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a-spes · 4 months

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| THE SHOT YOU MISSED - One shot (3k).

| Summary - you're spending a day at the fair with your girlfriend, the sweetest mob boss that possibly exists and she makes sure that you've a good day.

| Tags & warnings - mob boss!Natasha Romanoff x fem!Reader, just a fluff writing, slight angst (?), beginning of a panic attack, guns, domestic domination (kinda), Natasha is the sweetest in that.

| MOODBOARD — ✧ — MASTERLIST — ✧ — TO REQUEST

You’re taking a deep breath, trying to chase away the tension from your shoulders. There is only one cartridge left in the gun you have been given, so you already know that you won’t have a second chance: if that shot doesn’t hit its target, the mission will be a failure, and it’s not an option. The stakes are too high for you to miss that one.

You’re doing your best to ignore your surroundings, a difficult thing to do when you’re used to paying attention to everything, especially when being in a crowded place. You could hear the conversations of those around you, the screams and laughs alongside the footsteps of the children running on the asphalt. They were meters away but it was still piercing your eardrums. Even your own breathing started to be unbearable, it was fast and loud because of the anticipation and stress.

The weapon is stable, you’re maintaining it with a firm grip despite the slight trembling of your hands. You have been in this position for several minutes, and your muscles are starting to ache.

You have to do it, now.

There is nothing left to divert your attention, and you are eventually able to forget about everything else. For a moment, you can’t hear anything, you only see the target that is right in the center of your sights. A pressure from your finger, a clatter that rings in your ears, and just like that the bullet is gone, straight toward your target.

“Fuck!” you screamed, and it takes all the control you possess to not throw the plastic weapon when you see that you missed it.

You ignore the way the showman glanced at you when you screamed, a mixture of annoyance and satisfaction. You have been here for almost half an hour and you didn’t move an inch, refusing to go back to your girlfriend with empty hands. But sometimes determination isn’t enough, all you’ve managed to do is to pop a balloon or two, but you need more if you want to get that coveted prize.

When your hand reaches into your jacket’s pockets, you’re unpleasantly surprised to find nothing. The desperation with which you are now searching isn’t enough to reveal one last coin and you realize that you’ve spent everything you were given by Natasha, which means the fun is over for tonight.

It is already over and you weren’t even good enough to win a little something.

You had no other choice than going back to your girlfriend with nothing to give her, which you find embarrassing because she will obviously ask what took you so long and you didn’t want to admit your failures, not in front of the woman you love. The second she saw you, she stopped talking with the rest of the group to focus all her attention on you, noticing the way you were avoiding her gaze. As you are trying your best to get over your frustration, she is running her finger over your furrowed brows.

“What's happening, sweetie? You’re tense,” she told you, she knew something was wrong the moment she glanced at you, there is nothing that could escape her gaze.

“I lost, again,” you mumbled, not really wanting to talk more about it, especially because you knew she would react that way: you wanted nothing more than to rip that smirk off her face.

“Oh, baby … come here” she cooed, trying to hide her smile - but she just can’t help it.

She opens her arm and you wait no more than a second before throwing yourself into her embrace. The moment she wraps her arms around you, pulling you into a tight hug, all your frustration is gone.

She is good when it comes to ease your worries: she spent the next hour dragging you everywhere, and you’re sure you’ve tried every ride at least twice. She even bought you cotton candy despite her strict rules about sweets, just to make sure you smile again.

At some point, you were separated from her, you let go of her hand for one second, just enough time to drink some water, but also for your girlfriend to disappear. She probably told you where she was going, but you hadn’t heard because of the screams and those missed words are the reason you’re now panicking.

You are turning around again, and again, and again, but it’s useless, you are lost without her at your side. Every time you think you spotted her red hair in the crowd, it turns out that it isn’t her and the minutes start to feel like hours.

You're being manhandled by the crowd, trying to sort out your thoughts until a hand comes to rest on your shoulder and pulls you out of your torment. You turn sharply, but fear is replaced by relief when you realise it's only her.

She doesn’t like to see you like this, with tears in the corner of your eyes, and she hates it even more knowing that she caused this. She wasn't expecting you to react that way, as she only left for a few minutes and this view almost makes her feel bad. Almost, because she knows that what she has brought you will make up for her mistake.

“I got a surprise for you…,” she said, but it was not much of a surprise as you could already see the stuffed toy she was trying to hide behind her back.

It is a black dragon that is almost your size, you saw it at the stand where you were playing earlier. You’ve spent dozens of minutes and dollars in that game without winning anything so you can’t believe that it took her less than five minutes to come back with the biggest prize.

“How did you do that?! It was impossible to win anything!” you exclaimed as the woman hands you the stuffed toy.

You immediately hug it, squeezing the dragon as tight as you can. It is the fluffiest and you’re already loving it. If you are a bit surprised that Natasha got you something that big, you’re trying to not think too much about it. She always tells you no for everything that could ruin the aesthetic of her house so you want to enjoy the plushie as much as you could before she changes her mind and takes it back.

“Thank you, I love it so much,” you told her, not letting it go, which made her laugh - the prettiest sound you’ve ever heard.

Even her knows that she’ll eventually regret it, but for the moment the smile on your face makes it all worth it. It became even more important than her house’s décoration.

“But?” she asked, frowning when she heard your tone, knowing that something else was keeping your mind busy.

“There is not but,” you replied, and this time it is your turn to frown at her question.

“I know when you’re lying, love,” she said, her hand brushing your hair away from your face so she could admire every feature of your face.

“... god, I hate when you do that, you’re so annoying,” you mumbled, perfectly knowing that she was right. You bury your face in her shoulder, trying to hide your embarrassment.

Even when you try your hardest to keep your thoughts for yourself, you are unable to do so. There is nothing you can hide from the woman because she is too good at reading people, her eyes seeing everything.

“Then tell me what’s in your mind, and maybe I'll stop being annoying,” she said, trying to hold back a laugh. She won’t say it because she doesn’t want you to be mad at her for real, but she finds it cute when you’re angry.

“I-didn’t-want-a-stuffed-toy-I-was-trying-to-win-one-for-you,” you replied, talking as fast as you could in hope she won’t retain anything of your rambling - which was doomed to failure.

You are a bit embarrassed by the situation because she succeeded so easily where you didn’t. For once, you wanted to be the one to give her a present, something you rarely have the chance to do because she is always the one who spoils you, but somehow she managed to turn the situation around once again, and you hate it.

She chuckles, relieved that it was nothing too serious. She gently grabs your chin to lift your head up and watch your expression. The moment she saw that hint of sadness in your eyes, she understood how affected you are by the situation, and she finds it surprising how something so insignificant in her eyes could be so important to yours.

“Then I could keep it and we’ll pretend that you won it for me, what do you think?” she asked, trying to cheer you up, not wanting to see that look on your face anymore.

“But that's not the same,” you whined, starting to complain about the unfair situation.

“Oh gosh, you're such a child,” she said, rolling her eyes at your answer - but even if she acts like your attitude is annoying her, deep down you know that she loves it. “Come,” she added, pulling you by the hand to guide you through the crowd after she handed the huge dragon to one of her men.

“Where are we going?” you tried to ask, but of course you don’t get an answer from the redhead.

When you eventually get to the stand where Natasha won the dragon and you lost your money, the showman looks at you with a wry grin. He recognizes you as the one who spent dozens of dollars in his game without winning anything and he is probably hoping that you are back with more money.

But as soon as his eyes landed on the redhead at your side, his face completely changed. He knew he messed up the second he noticed how her hand is resting at the bottom of your back as she guides you toward his stand. She puts down a bill, which the man takes with caution, probably thinking that there is a trap somewhere.

“We won’t need that,” she told him the moment the man made a move to give her one of the plastic weapons.

If he is about to protest, one glance from the woman is enough for him to understand that he would better keep his mouth shut. Instead, he watches her carefully as she takes her own gun out, a real one.

You are a bit confused when she puts the gun in your hands : it is the first time it happens. She has never let you touch anything that could be dangerous, and it obviously included her weapons. It has nothing in common with the fake guns you are used to, it is heavier and more impressive.

“Go on,” she said, trying to encourage you when she noticed you still haven’t made a move.

“What? With your gun?” you asked, unsure of what you are supposed to do now, “b- but I don’t know how.. I mean, I’ve never-,” you added when she nodded as an answer to your question, but she doesn’t give you time to argue.

“I know,” she cut you, already knowing what you were about to say, “but I’ll help you, don’t worry about it,” she added, putting her hands on your shoulder to turn you around so you’re facing the targets instead of her.

She stands behind you, and if you can’t see her, you could feel her hands roaming over your body. You’re barely listening to the advice she is whispering in your ears, your mind being entirely focused on her hands. She moves your shoulders and legs in the right position, then she wraps your hands with hers to be sure that you won’t miss this time. It requires even more concentration than earlier to not let yourself get distracted by your proximity with the redhead, so close that you could feel her breath on the back of your neck.

Even if it doesn’t feel right to do that, you shot. Three times, and you didn’t miss one, all the balloons popped under your eyes, granting you the victory. She immediately snatches the weapon from your hand, not wanting to leave it to you for more time than it’s necessary, but you don’t care, too happy about your victory.

“Theirs are rigged, you never stood a chance,” she simply said as if it was obvious, but it wasn’t. If she understood what was the problem in one shot, why didn’t you after you’ve tried countless times?

You start to feel a bit stupid as the realization sinks in ; you blamed yourself for something that wasn’t even your fault, something you should've noticed on the first shot. You now understand why the showman was looking at you that way, he must have been happy to see someone that was dumb enough to spend all their money in his stand, from the beginning he knew you wouldn't win because no one that plays along the rules does.

“I am so proud of you, malyshka,” she added, the sound of her voice pulling you out of the spiral of your thoughts - a deadly one.

The lower part of your back is now pressed against the stand, she turned you around so she could admire every feature of your face.

“Stop lying,” you mumbled, the expression on your face not matching the smile on hers - she is smiling but you want to cry, fearing that you might have disappointed her because of your mistakes.

“I am serious,” she immediately said, not leaving you a chance to argue. Her hand gently grabs your chin, lifting your head until your eyes meet hers. “It even makes me want to see you try with live targets now, you must be so hot…,” she continued, her thumb brushing your cheek as she gets lost in the pleasant scene her mind is playing.

But you are not enjoying it as much as she does. A shiver of disgust shakes your body at this simple image, the one of your hands covered in the blood of your victim.

You are not a murderer, nor a monster.

Even after meeting the redhead and being dragged into her chaotic life, you’ve never done a thing that was illegal. If you know about her activities, she always makes sure that you are nothing more than a witness. She likes her women to be innocent, she used to toss them as soon as she felt their souls started to be corrupted, but she was slowly changing her mind.

For the first time, she wants to see her sweet thing with blood on her back. There is nothing that could please her more than to see the glimpse of darkness in your eyes growing until you are too deep in it to step back.

For the first time she wanted to fully introduce her girl to her reality.

She wanted to corrupt you as much as she wanted to protect your innocence. There is no word to describe how much she appreciates this oblivious expression of yours and, right now, she is not missing a thing about the one on your face. She revels in the mixture of fear and disgust she could read on your face.

“I was joking,” she sighed, “so don’t worry your pretty little head with that, okay baby?” she said and you believed her, nodding.

You couldn’t see the smirk on her face - the only hint that she was lying - because she leans forward to kiss the top of your head, her hand brushing your temple one last time before she pulls away. You immediately whine, trying to grip on her arm so she wouldn’t leave but this only makes her laugh.

“Go get your prize now, so we can get home,” she said, ignoring the pleading look you’re giving her to gesture towards the showman.

You turn around and, indeed, you see that the man was impatiently waiting for you to make your choice, he probably couldn’t wait to get rid of you and your problematic girlfriend. You immediately point to one of the biggest stuffed toys, similar to yours, but before the showman could make a move, Natasha shook her head, showing that she disagrees with your choice. She takes your arm and gently moves it so you’re now pointing at the shelf where the smallest plushies are displayed.

“It’s one of those or nothing,” she said, her stern tone leaving no room for discussion.

She obviously doesn’t care about the pout on your face. She considers that she has already been pretty nice by gifting you that giant stuffed toy, so she definitely won’t bring a second one home.

“Fine …,” you replied, frustrated that you couldn’t freely choose, but it was the perfect opportunity to make her regret her decision.

You missed nothing of her expression when the showman took the strawberry bunny that was on the shelf. She rolled her eyes, obviously you choose the most childish of all, but she decides that the smile on your face as you’re handed it to her is worth everything. She gladly takes it, and even if she tries to pretend she doesn’t like it, you don’t fall for her lies. The kisses she lays on the top of your head, then on your lips, are enough to convince you to keep your sneaky words to yourself, enjoying the moment the two of you were sharing.

| MOODBOARD — ✧ — MASTERLIST — ✧ — TO REQUEST

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lingering-42-long · 11 months

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141 + extra Mother’s Day head cannons

A short little Head cannons for all of our favorite boys expressing their love to there girls who are mothers.

COD x Female Character

Warnings: none, fluff, adorable daddies.

Captain John Price

• he wakes you up with a kiss on the forehead and a coffee in hand.

• The little ones are still asleep and he just wants to spend time with the mother of his children.

• when your daughters and son decide that it’s time to get up, they are running around handing you flowers and cards and balloons with the words “Happy Mother’s Day” written on them.

• John is making you breakfast with the girls attempting to help and your son sitting on the counter coloring.

• every year he plans to take you out to a nice restaurant and you to go to watch a play at the local theater

• He gives you lots of kisses and tells you how amazing a mother you are.

• He gives you a spa treatment to use whenever you need and puts a crap ton of money on it as well as also giving you a Starbucks gift card with $100 on it knowing your coffee obsession.

Lieutenant Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley

• you’re a mother to be and about eight months pregnant with your first born son.

• because of the trauma Simon had to go through all those years ago he never really understood what Mother’s Day was and so didn’t think much of it when it was coming around.

• after hearing what some of his friends were doing for their wives he thought it would be best to do some thing for you in a similar fashion.

• he doesn’t necessarily want to go out and do anything too extravagant. He doesn’t see the need to.

• but he understands that you are carrying his child his first born, his son so he feels very obligated and very protective of you.

• he buys you your favorite flowers and does a huge amount of online shopping for things for you and for the baby.

• One might think that just because he has no clue about Mother’s Day that he would be a horrible gift giver when that is simply not true. Simon is trained to study all the little details in life and so he knows exactly what your favorite things are right down to the exact color shade and style.

• this man has read so many parent books he knows exactly what his child needs well before the due date and advise you whatever you could possibly need to make your pregnancy as smooth as possible.

• he will take you to your favorite place at the park where you two can have a quiet lunch together.

• it may not be much but it’s the thought that counts. He’s not a emotionally opened person but for you he is trying so hard to make sure that you know how much he loves and appreciates you.

Sergeant Johnny ‘Soap’ MacTavish

• your son was the first one to wake you both up as he was screaming on the top of his lungs saying happy Mother’s Day.

• Johnny just laughs and gives you a kiss, wishing you also a happy Mother’s Day before getting jumped on by his son desperately trying to wake up his parents so he could have breakfast, and show you his artwork that he had been working on for you.

• he bought you a really pretty and expensive pair of earrings and matching necklace. Don’t ask him how much it was.

• Johnny asks his parents if they could watch his son for the day as he takes you out for a couples massage and goes thrift shopping with you.

• this is a fun hobby that you guys have and enjoy doing.

• sometime during dinner at a simple bistro that you guys like to go to, he whispers into your ear about growing the family.

• let’s just say baby number two is on its way

Sargent Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

• he is very new at being a father only having two months with his newborn daughter.

• like Simon, he doesn’t know what to do for you for Mother’s Day so he calls his mom for help.

• She suggests that he do some thing for you or give something to you to make her feel special.

• he decides that he would watch the baby for the day while you go get your hair done your fingernails done and get a massage as well as give you some money to go buy some clothes and to hang out with your girlfriends.

• he’s not the best cook so he decides to order takeout for you both at one of your favorite pizza restaurants.

• when you get back home he sets the table up real nicely and make sure to get you some really pretty flowers and your favorite chocolate from the store.

• he also orders your favorite wine.

• Once your baby girl has fallen asleep, you both decide to watch a cheesy Romcom.

• it’s really simple but it’s the perfect Mother’s Day gift you could ever ask for.

Commander Alejandro Vargas

• this man is already making you breakfast for the day. His two older children have gone to hang out at one of their friends places while the youngest, a three-year-old, was in her highchair eating breakfast.

• he brings the food to you as you’re just waking up.

• Like Johnny, he bought you a beautiful set of earrings and necklace that the kids helped picked out.

• he’s going to take you out to a really nice restaurant and later dancing so he make sure to get you a nice dress that he knows that you would like.

• he buys every single rose from every single flower shop in Las Almes

• giving you neck kisses from behind as you’re getting ready.

•Asked his single brother to watch the baby while the other kids are having a sleep over at their cousins house.

• he spent the whole night pampering you and telling you how much he loves you and thanking you for his children.

• Spent the rest of the night having spicy time on the couch and bedroom.

Sergeant Major Rodolfo "Rudy" Parra

• because your two year-old son has a severe infection and is in the hospital, you both decide not to do some thing extravagant since most of your money is going towards taking care of the little one.

• with that being said, that doesn’t mean that he isn’t going to try for you.

• he is a simple man but he does what he can for you to make you happy.

• for some odd reason all of the roses in Las Almes are all sold out, so he buys a really nice mixed bouquet that he knows that you like.

• he also gives you a simple gift card to your favorite coffee shop with a cute card to go with it.

• you order takeout and have it delivered to the hospital, where you guys are at making sure that your son is ok.

• even though it’s not the Best Mother’s Day, you too are just happy to be together with your son.

König

• he always thinks really hard about what you would like for Mother’s Day.

• he’s not a social butterfly but he’ll make an exception for you. So if you want to go out to a restaurant he will do that for you.

• this man is just happy that he was able to find someone that loves him, and has given him two beautiful twin girls and one sweet boy.

• you too decide to do some thing super easy with the kids and take them to a park in his hometown in Austria.

• he looks like he’s on the verge of tears because of how happy you have made him.

• he gets overwhelmed easily with emotion.

• after going to the park he cooks you all a really good meal and the girls help him.

•After dinner, the both of you Play board games with the girls as your son is asleep in his bassinet.

• makes some hot chocolate for everyone.

• when the girls go to sleep, he pulls out a book that he wants to read with you.

• you two fall asleep in each others arms.

Alex Keller

• this dude is a Golden retriever when it comes to love. He gets so excited when he gets to spend Mother’s Day with you and his newborn son.

• since you just had the baby you’re still in the hospital, and he makes sure to take care of all your needs while you get pampered by him. He buys you a really cute t-shirt with the words ‘mamma bear’ on it.

• he gets you sushi from your favorite Japanese restaurant.

• plays card games with you and lets you win.

• watches TV with you in the hospital room while holding your hand and telling you how proud he is and he hopes to grow the family more in the future.

Philip Graves

• is a southern boy so his mama always taught him how to treat a lady.

• Think 1940s gentleman

• most people think he would have a son but he has a little girl instead.

• is a super proud daddy of his baby girl and even more proud of his wife.

• unfortunately for this Mother’s Day, he’s away with the shadow company in Mexico so he’s unable to spend Mother’s Day with you.

• he does send you a text letting you know how much he misses you and to have a amazing Mother’s Day.

• he sends you $1000 to go spend on whatever you want for your day since he knows that he won’t be able to splurge on you like he usually does.

• he cannot wait to get back home to you and his little girl.

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aerynwrites · 6 months

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Cherished

Alpha!Halsin x Omega!afab!Reader

A/N: Had this horny thought in my brain. Wrote it. Here you go. Lol. First time writing for this universe (A/B/O) so i apologize if anything is off - I didn’t lean into it as heavily as I probably could have but I still think you all will enjoy! <3

Word Count: 7.5k

Warnings: NSFW 18+ ONLY. Smut, PiV Sex, vaginal fingering, making out, semi-rough sex, marking, creampie, unprotected sex, cock warming, implied past abuse (not detailed), reader has trauma, but Halsin is there to help. Love confessions, after care, fluff, emotional hurt/comfort.

The medicinal smell sets a knot of panic bundling in your chest as soon as you open your pack.

With little grace, the contents are spilled onto the floor of your tent as you upend your bag hastily, shaking the fabric until every last item is before you, and the delicate tinkle of glass fills your ears.

No, no, no!

Your mind screams in panic and utter despair as you spot the broken vials peeking out from the green cloth they’re wrapped in, the fabric tinged a darker shade as the solution soaks it.

You quickly unwrap the precious items, fear ballooning in your throat as tears well up behind your eyes.

It’s gone. All of it. You’re entire supply of suppressing elixirs, soaking into the fabric that was supposed to protect them, rendering the solutions useless.

Fuck.

You should have been more careful. But then again, how were you supposed to know a simple tumble on the road would be enough to damage the goods in your pack? They’ve been through far worse with them on your person and it’s been fine.

Until now.

A sob breaks out of your chest as you stare at the shattered glass, and you search desperately through the carnage for just one unscathed vial, uncaring of the nicks the sharp shards leave on your finger tips.

You can make one vial stretch until you reach baldur's gate. It would be hard, it might not work but it would be something.

You won’t make it to the city on nothing. Not undetected. And you refused to let anyone find out the truth.

With palms pressed against your eyes in an effort to push away the tears you try to take deep steadying breaths. Between those and the blood roaring in your ears, you don’t hear someone approaching your tent until a fanilair shock of black hair pops through the entrance flap.

“There you are, we need help setting up-“

Shadowheart’s words die on her tongue just as her eyes fall onto you then the mess on the floor, her nose twitching almost imperceptibly.

It seems like slow motion as her eyes widen slightly, and she steps fully into the tent, closing the flap behind her before coming to crouch before you.

You hurriedly try to wrap the broken evidence and shove it in your bag despite knowing the action is futile.

Shadowheart reaches out, grabbing your arm gently. “What are you doing with suppressant elixirs?” She asks, voice lacking the accusing quality you expect.

Avoiding her eyes you shrink into yourself, readying yourself for the inevitable. “Why do you think?” You whisper, clutching the balled up cloth to your chest.

Shadowheart is silent as she thinks, and panic surges forward full force as you reach out to take her hand in yours in a vice grip.

“Please, you can’t tell anyone,” you beg, shocking the former sharr worshiper.

She shakes her head, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. “Was that all you had left? Do you have any more?”

You swallow thickly and shake your head no. “That was it. I don’t…I won’t make it to the city without it. And I… no one can know. I’ll…I can leave and travel ahead or try and find a secluded place to wait it out before meeting you all outside the city.”

The words fall from your lips before you really think about them but…it could work. You know the side effects of stopping suppressants, and despite wanting to keep this part of yourself hidden, you couldn’t risk being around this many alphas when the medicine left your system. No way.

Sequestering yourself is the best way.

Shadowheart looks at you, shock evident on her features.

“Are you mad? Do you know what happens when you quit usuing supressants? The effects are brutal when weaned off of them the correct way. Stopping like that-“ she snaps her fingers. “No. It’s going to be excruciating.”

You can’t help but bristle at her tone, that all to familiar alpha authority slipping through. The exact thing you knew would happen if they found out what you are.

An omega.

You pull away from the woman, frowning as you start to shove items into your pack once more.

“I don’t need you telling me what to do. I’m the one who has dealt with this my whole life, not you.”

The woman reels back at the venom on your words, eyes softening. “I wasn’t trying to tell you what to do, I just…I’ve seen it before. You won’t last, you need-“ she bites her tongue, as if afraid her next words will scare you, but continues after a beat of silence. “You’ll need someone to help you through this. You have to know that.”

“No, no!” You stand up abruptly, hands clenching at your sides. “I’ll be fine. I don’t need some - some alpha, to come and use me before casting me aside,” you spit, turning back to your pack again, desperate to busy yourself so you don’t lose yourself to panic.

Shadowheart doesn’t let up, concern evident in her voice. “What about Halsin, you two seem cozy enough and I know he’d probably be more than eager to help-“

You straighten up at this, turning to face her once more pack clutch tightly in your hands. “No! Shadowheart, please!”

Halsin…

She’s right. You two have been closer that usual, this journey to the city doing nothing but bringing you closer than you already were. You’ve both flirted and touched and danced around your feelings for weeks now but this…

No. The thought of him finding out, and it changing the way he looks at you. Changing his feelings or making him see you as this… thing - to be used and then tossed aside…

No, you can’t bear the thought.

With fists clenched tight, you stand your ground, trying to assert the title of defacto leader you’ve taken on.

“Just stay here. I’ll be…I’ll be fine, I promise,” you pause, thinking. “There’s an abandoned house we passed earlier today in our travels. It was back before the waterfall. I’ll be there. If you get to the city and more time has passed than normal then…you know where to find me.”

The woman’s lips settle into a thin line, arms crossing across her chest. “You’re denser than I thought if you think we’re traveling on without you. Tadpoles be damned,” she reaches out and takes your hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. “I’ll make up some excuse for us to make camp here for a while. If I don’t hear from you, I’ll come find you myself.”

Relief floods through your veins, and before you can think better of it, you step forward and wrap her in a tight hug.

“Thank you. Truly I…I don’t deserve your kindness, not after keeping this from you.”

Shadowheart shakes her head as you pull away, her hands resting lightly on your arms. “I understand a thing or two about not being forthcoming about certain aspects of your past, but…” she trails off, eyes flirting away before coming back to yours. “I do not think those around us will treat you the way you expect. I wish you would give them a chance. Give him a chance.”

You sigh. “A chance to what? Take advantage?”

The woman smiles sadly.

“A chance to show you that they aren’t as terrible as you assume they will be.”

———

Shadowheart has helped you pack the rest of supplies you’d need. Food enough to last a week, some fresh water, although the old house looked to be by a stream so if you run out you can get more.

She was still reluctant to let you leave, but after one last assurance she eventually did.

Which leads you to where you are now, exhausted and weary as you try to set up a makeship living situation in the abandoned house. It was early evening when you left camp, having seen the structure earlier in the day of traveling.

It took you hours to back track and the sun has long set, your only light being from the few candles you have lit and the moon streaming in through the crumbling roof in the corner of the dilapidated home.

But you are making quick work of the space, having moved any broken furniture to the back corner of the room and pulling any spare blankets beneath your bedroll in an effort to make a more comfortable bed.

You can do this. Hopefully the effects will be minimal and pass in a few days. Shadowheart said she would work on trying to get more suppressants for you, and then you could return like nothing ever happened.

Right?

You scoff slightly, trying to shove away the reality that settles in your mind. This is going to suck. And when you do make it through, the likelihood of having suppressants available is slim.

The truth will come out one way or another. A thought you choose not to wrestle with tonight in favor of crawling into your bedroll.

Consequences can wait. Right now you just want to sleep, to hide from the torment that is to come.

———

Pain .

It’s the first thing that registers in your sleep-addled mind, ripping away the last tendrils of slumber as a crushing ache pulses in your stomach. It radiates outwards, making your very bones groan in protest as you curl in on yourself, the discomfort nearly blinding as you try to orient yourself.

The next thing you notice is the heat, like fire licking at your skin as you shove yourself out of the bedroll, moving to settle on top of it instead. The air, despite it being barely dawn, offers no cool reprieve against your sweat slick skin. Your clothes stick to you, plastered to your body as if you’d just jumped into the nearby river.

Another cramp seizes you, but this time another feeling accompanies it. A feeling that has become a stranger to you since taking the suppressants.

Need.

Bone deep, soul crushing, need floods through you, your core throbbing with it and calling out to the one thing that’s not here.

No. You don’t need him.

You don’t need an alpha to help you, you refuse to need him. You’ve done this your whole life by yourself. You can do it now.

But can you? That little voice in your head asks, that voice behind your baser instincts, the one you’ve kept hidden for so long.

It’s been years since your last heat. The suppressants effectively wiping away anything and everything that made you an omega. And now…it’s as if all of the things you’ve held at bay have come crashing down. Showing you what you are, as if saying ‘ here I am. You can’t run from me.’

You shake your head. Mouth dry, tongue thick as your mouth parts on a broken sob.

Gods, help me.

————

Time passes in flirting bouts of consciousness. Night gives way to dawn before you succumb to unconsciousness - only to wake again worse than before, but this time with sunlight streaming through the broken windows.

The fever never abates, and you manage to reach the meager few feet to wretch your water skin from your pack, downing the contents entirely in one go. But it does nothing to ease the ache or the heat beneath your skin.

So you give in. Naively hoping your own touch will help the need subside, will satiate something within you.

It take more effort than you expect to peel your pants from your legs, every touch to your feverish skin making arousal shoot through you, adding to the slick already coating your thighs. The fabric pulls way wetly from your damp skin until you finally toss them to the side, in favor of sliding desperate fingers beneath the waistband of your underwear.

As finger slide through your wetness, the relief is there. But barely. No matter what you do, no matter how many fingers you use it barely touches the ache in your core. Like a quick summer rain on a forest fire…it offers no relief.

But you keep trying, tears slipping down your cheeks as the first, the second, the third, orgasm rips through you, leaving you exhausted but no where near satiated.

Sleep claims you then, when the sun is starting to set once more.

You have no idea how much time has passed the next time you wake, the hours passing in a haze of lust and pain and tears.

You come and go from consciousness, feeling as if your body is both shutting down and just starting up at the same time.

Has it been hours? Minutes? Days?

Time doesn’t seem to exist in this small house in the woods. Until finally some semblance of lucidity comes to you at the same time as an all too familiar scent floats in on the breeze though the windows.

Halsin - no, you shake your head.

Alpha.

Fear shoots through you at the same time the primal instincts do. The baser part of you craves him - urges you to go to him. But the fear is stronger. The fear of the past - of those who used you.

The fear wins out.

You all but leap from your bedroll, your knees buckling beneath you as you do, your heat having taken most of your strength.

You struggle agaisnt it as you stand, hearing a faint call of your name just as you manage to grasp the edge of a nearby table and push in in front of the door.

He calls your name again, and you bite the inside of your cheek to keep the moan from falling from your lips.

Go to him. He’s yours. He’ll help. Go to him. Go to him. GO-

“No!” You shout, pressing yourself against the table, “Halisn go . Away ! Please…”

The last word comes out on a sob, unable to contain everything roiling within you. Your need, your fear, your utter love for the man outside. It’s too much.

You hear a gentle thud on the door, as if he’s pressed his forehead to the other side, his hand pressing to the wood.

“I only wish to help. I promise, I did not come with any other intention.”

His words are muffled by the door separating you, and you push yourself harder against the table at your back, the edge digging into your spine.

“H-how did you find me?” You ask, fighting for every word agaisnt your foggy mind.

It’s quiet for a moment until he finally speaks. “Shadowheart came to me this morning asking if I had any knowledge of healing herbs or elixirs for…for heat.”

You let out a shaky breath. You want to be angry. Angry at your friend for betraying you. Angry at the situation. Angry at yourself for getting you here.

But you’re just tired. You’re tired and exhausted and in pain and you don’t know what to do.

“ Please,” Halsin begs, a sound you’ve never heard fall from his lips before. “I only wish to ease your pain. To help in any way I can. I will not touch you if you do not wish. I swear it on the life the Oak Father granted me.”

Clutching the edge of the table is the only thing keeping you upright, your nails digging into the wood.

“I don’t..you can’t control it. They never can. I know…I know what will happen.”

The words are quiet, so quiet you don’t know if he can hear you. But he does, and his voice is gentle and kind, and everything you've ever wanted to hear in a situation like this.

“You are wrong,” he says plainly. “I do not pretend to know what you have suffered at the hands of other alphas, but I know they can be cruel. I just…I hope you know me well enough - trust me enough to know I will not be the same.”

Fuck.. fuck!

You don’t give him a verbal answer, instead you just barely manage to move the table away from the door in order to open it. You watch with bated breath as the man on the other side visibly flinches, no doubt being assaulted with the scents and smells of your untamed heat.

You watch, fingers clutching the edge of the door as he stills, shoulders rising with a deep breath as that all too familiar golden sheen rolls over his body. You almost move to slam the door closed again, but stop short when the magic fades away and his eyes flutter open, showing you hazel instead of that druidic gold you’ve seen before.

He gives you a small smile, and the motion eases you somewhat, that fear slowly creeping away. You move aside to let him in, and he enters slowly, taking in the room before his eyes fall to you as you close the door.

He takes a step closer then, but slowly, giving you time to move away or ward him off if you so wish.

You don’t. You can’t.

That need inside you is still there and it’s stronger with him this close. Begging you to pull him closer, to have him touch you, to have him make it all go away. The effort required to refuse these needs is worse than the pain you’ve been feeling since you left camp, and you want nothing more than to give in.

So you stay still as he approaches you, holding one hand up to press gently against your forhead, eyes widening as he feels the heat coming off you in waves.

Gods… his touch is like a soothing balm against your skin, and you can’t stop the whimper that leaves your lips as you all but melt into him, gasping when he pulls away.

“You’re burning with fever,” he says, concern lacing each syllable as he reaches for you again, this time not touching you but letting his magic free as his eyes fall closed.

You wait with bated breath as the magic golden glow hovers in the air in front of you, lighting his palm as small yellow tendrils reach for you.

It’s over in just a few moments, and the room is cast in the dim glow of the dusk once more as Halsin looks over you worriedly.

“When was the last time you ate? Drank?”

You shake your head, trying to remember, but the only memories that fill your mind are muddy and confused.

“I don’t…I don’t know. When I left camp? I drank water not long ago..I think,” another cramp rocks you where you stand, and you would have crumpled to the ground if not for the two strong hands that catch you. “I don’t know, everything is hazy I can’t remember.”

Halsin inhales sharply, brows furrowed as he shakes his head. “That was days ago,” he looks around, gently leading you to your bedroll when he spots it, urging you to lay down. “You must eat. I will fetch more water from the stream close by and then I will see what I can do to ease your pain.”

With those simple instructions he’s gone as fast as he appeared. And the arousal is back as strong as ever. But you try, you try to do what he said. Managing to pull the rations from your pack and nibble at an apple and some dried meat. You almost finish by the time he’s back, a bucket filled with fresh water in his hands.

He approaches you once more, movements still slow and cautious until he’s kneeling at your side, refilling your waterskin before offering it to you.

You sit up moving to drain the contents like last time, but he stops you, tugging at the skin gently.

“Slow. You will make yourself sick if you take it all in one go. Take your time,” he says, tone gentle.

You try to listen, but between everything buzzing around inside you and the desperate thirst you just now notice, it’s a herculean task. But you do it, not only to avoid making your situation worse but because some part of you, that tiny voice in the back of your head…it wants to please him.

You push the skin away, arms curling around yourself as another wave of pleasure rolls through you at the thought. You double over, laying on your side as your knees come to your chest, desperate for the discomfort to stop.

“Halsin, please…” you beg, unashamed to finally admit you need help. “Do something, I can’t take it anymore.”

You can hear his breath hitch and are assaulted by a faintly sweet smell. A calmness washing over you, offering the only brief respite you’ve had in days.

He’s trying to calm you.

You can’t find it in you to care. Relishing in the only relief you’ve had since you’ve left camp. But you know it won’t last, and that thought alone is enough to make tears spill over once more.

Halsin shushes you quietly, voice soothing as he hovers a hand over your shoulder. “Don’t cry, my heart. I will do everything in my power to help you, I swear it.”

You nod, trying in vain to wipe away the tears.

“Please, hurry.”

As soon as the words leave your lips, you see the faint glow of magic once more, feel it reaching out for you as Halsin slowly moves his hand down over your body then up once more.

It takes him longer this time, and the relief you felt just moments earlier is already starting to fade away. You nearly cry out when Halsin withdraws from you, frustration costing his features as muttered curses fall from his lips.

“Those suppressants are a poison,” he finally says, his words venomous. “An affront to nature as it was designed.”

Shame fills you as he speaks, joining your already muddled emotions. “I’m sorry,” you manage to whisper, voice broken.

Hazel eyes snap to yours, lips set in a fine line as he shakes his head. “This is not your fault,” he assures you, voice firm. “Society has spread the lies that you, omegas, are something to be claimed and taken rather than cherished and treasured as the oak father intended. They made you afraid, fearful of who you are. Pushed these things upon you so you could hide-“ a low growl slips past his lips, as he cuts himself off.

He pauses, shoulders falling as he lets out a sigh before looking to you once more.

“These elixirs are beyond my comprehension. The medicine runs deep in your veins I…I know of no natural remedy or spell to counter its effects.”

Dread settles deep in your belly at the realization that you basically have two options at this point. You can either wait out the symptoms and hope the fever doesn’t harm you or…give in to the need. Something that doesn’t scare you as much as it did at first, but something you still don’t know if you can trust.

But you want to. You want him to touch you, to hold you, to do all of the things you’ve imagined him doing. But you want him to want it too. Not because of some biological drive but…because he desires you.

And maybe…maybe he does. Who else’s could come all the way out here? What other alpha would have resisted touching you this long? You can think of no one else. Anyone else would have given in by now, you know it’s as excruciating for him as it is for you.

So why is he here if not out of care for you…out of love ?

Another tremble runs through you as you sit up, eyes searching his own before you speak.

“Can you just…hold me? I just need, something, anything and I -“ you pause as another cramp takes your breath away. “I understand if you don’t want too - or think it would be-“

Gentle hands on your cheeks stop you in your tracks, and once again you practically melt into his palms, his touch the only thing providing any relief.

“It would be my pleasure, my heart.”

You sigh in relief, hands immediately falling to the hem of your shirt, the still damp material uncomfortable against your skin. You watch as Halsin reaches for his own vest before hesitating, eyes flitting to you in a silent question.

Once your shirt is discarded and you’re down to your small clothes you give him a small nod, reaching out to him instead this time, fingers tugging at the lacings of his clothing. You try to focus, try to push past the lust fogging your kind. But it’s harder the closer you are to him, noticing every minute detail of the man in front of you.

The way his breath hitches as you untie the laces and he helps you tug the article off his body. His scent assaults you as he does so. The way his muscles ripple beneath his skin as he reaches for you. The heat rivaling your own wafting off his skin in waves as he pulls you close to him before bringing you both to lay on your makeshift bed.

He completely surrounds you, the smell of pine and the earth and something so subtly sweet it could only ever remind you of him. His arms tighten around you as you press your cheek to his chest, the light dusting of hair tickling your skin in the best way as his chin rests atop your head.

The longer he holds you to him, the more relief seeps into your bones, that tormenting ache dissipating ever so slightly. But it never leaves completely, still tugging at the edges of your mind and making your fingers twitch from where your hands rest against his back.

You can’t take it anymore. The need too great, your desire finally winning out as you pull away just enough so you can look up at the druid. He gives you a pained smile, clearly holding back the same what you are, and that’s enough to finally make you take action.

Before the alpha can process your intentions you have a leg thrown over him, rolling until you sit astride his hips. Your hands brace against his chest as he looks up at you, brows drawn together in confusion.

“What are you-“

You cut him off with hands against his cheeks, thumbs brushing his lips as your eyes travel over his face.

“I want this,” you finally say, voice barely a whisper in the night. “I want you, but I-“ you have to bite back the tears that clog your throat. “ Promise me. Promise me you’ll be here when we’re done. Promise me you won’t leave when you’ve gotten what you want. I can’t…my heart can’t bear it.”

Shock crosses Halsins face, followed quickly by what you recognize as a firm resolve and finally…the softest look you've ever recieved. He reaches up, taking one of your hands in his own to press a gentle kiss to your palm, then to your wrist before finally tugging you down so you’re chest to chest, your nose brushing his.

Before you can blink, strong arms wrap around you, holding you to him as he flips you both over, your back now against the blankets as he hovers over you.

“You are not so easily cast aside, my heart.” He tells you, voice full of reverence. “You plague my thoughts both waking and sleeping. Your taste lingers on my tongue each time we kiss. You’ve captured my entire being, heart and soul,” he presses a chaste kiss to the corner of your lips as tears slip from your eyes. “I will be here when you wake this day, and every day to come. I will cherish you as you deserve, as all those in the past have failed to do. If you will have me.”

Words fail you in light of the poetic ones he whispers to you. So you do the one thing you’ve been denying yourself for days. Leaning up your press your lips to his, nearling crying out at the utter relief that washes through your veins when he returns the action, lips meeting yours in frantic eagerness.

You pull away but his lips never leave your skin, trailing down as you reach up to thread shaking fingers through his bronze locks.

“ Please,” you beg, desperation hanging on the simple word. “Touch me, I can’t take another moment without it. Without you.”

Halsin is quick to oblige, his hands moving over you in a hurried rush. He rids you of your underthings before divesting himself of his own clothing and sinking to press fully against you. You can feel the hard length of him pressing against your hip, and your back arches instinctively into him, desperate to feel more of him.

Halsin groans, unable to stop the way his hips thrust against your own, one hand falling down to take your hip in a bruising grip.

“You do not know what you ask of me,” he warns you, voice low. “I have craved you for a long time, my heart. Once I start…I do not know that I will be able to stop until I know you are mine.”

You shake your head, reaching up to tangle your hands in his hair as your legs move to wrap around his waist. “I don’t want you to stop,” you beg, “make me yours, please.”

The need inside you is burning at an all time high, reaching a crescendo you didn’t even know possible as you lay beneath the powerful alpha above you. You know he could do whatever he wanted to you, with or without your permission. But you know he won’t, which just adds fuel to the fire in your veins.

You want him. You want him to claim you and make you his, a feeling you’ve never had before. You’ve been hiding your whole life, but now, laid bare before him…You're no longer afraid.

As if sensing any residual fear seep from you, Halsins lips crash against yours once more, wasting no more time. You feel his hand trail between you both, fingers touching you where you want him most.

You cry out against his lips as his fingers slip through your arousal, teasing your entrance before coming back up to rub rhythmic patterns against the sensitive bundle of nerves.

“You’re so wet for me,” his voice is husky next to your ear, almost a growl as he senses your complete and utter need. “Are you…Do you think you are ready?”

It’s a genuine question, born both from actual concern but also impatience. You can sense he’s already holding back, willing to do whatever you need in order to not hurt you, but also wanting desperately to sink himself into you fully.

You nod your head, you’ve come so many times since you’ve been here, your legs are sticky with your slick. There’s no way you couldn’t take him.

Your hands scrabble at his back, pulling him closer to you, your thighs squeezing his hips firmly. “ Please , Halsin,” you beg, voice a pathetic whimper.

He needs no more encouragement. You feel the head of him slide through your wetness before he’s sinking into you at a pace that is both soothing the ache within you and also stoking the flames.

A keening sound rips itself form your chest as he settles against you, and you expect him to wait, to be ever the gentleman and hold still for much longer than you can take right now.

But to your shock and utter relief, Halsin does no such thing. He starts a firm and fast pace, his hips retreating before thrusting back into your own, filling you completely each time and driving the breath from your lungs.

Gods he feels so good. It feels right. There is no pain, no discomfort, just the feeling of being so full it somehow completes you, as if Halsin was made just for you.

My alpha.

Halsin growls, head dropping to the crook of your neck, nipping at the delicate skin as his fingers dig deeper into your thighs.

“Yes, I’m yours, little omega, and you are mine.”

His words nearly shock you from your pleasure, not realizing you had said your thoughts out loud. And he…He called you his omega. Usually being referred to by your biological designation would anger you, make your fists clench and that all too familiar black anger build in your chest - but now…

The way he said he is yours. Giving himself to you and simultaneously calling you his own…it made stars burst behind your eyes, your orgasm crashing over you so suddenly it steals your senses from you.

Blood rushes in your ears, your eyes clench shut, and you can feel the faint rawness in your throat as you cry Halsin’s name.

Halsin doesn’t still as you come, only slows his thrusts as he works you through your high, grunts of pleasure brushing against your skin as you clench around him, your nails dig into his skin so hard you’re sure there will be evidence of this encounter for days to come.

Warm lips press beneath your jaw, and you turn your head up willingly, silently begging him for more.

“Are you alright, my heart?”

His voice is soft, but strained, and it’s only then that you realize he’s still hard, thrusting haphazardly against you in an effort to satiate his own needs but not overwhelm you.

Warmth blooms in your chest at his words and actions. No one has ever asked you that in the past. They just took and took until they were stated and then left…

You give him a small nod, pushing back at the tears burning at the back of your eyes. “Yes I-“ your voice croaks weakly. “I’m fine, I - I’m more than fine.”

Yet even as you speak, you can feel that all to familiar burn spread through you once more. Your release had soothed the ache momentarily, but it’s back, slowly seeping back into every limb, your core churning with desire once more.

Another whimper escapes you, as you turn to nuzzles Halsin cheek. “ Gods, it’s still there,” you cry, frustration painting your words.

Halsin hums low in his chest, turning to press a gentle kiss to your temple, uncaring of the sweat beading there.

“It may take a while for your body to get rid of the suppressants,” he says softly. “It may be several days before it is completely out of your system.”

He must see the way your eyes widen, feel the way your breath hitches, because he soothes your worries with a kiss, pressing his weight into you in an effort to comfort you.

“Do not let that worry you,” he says, hands sliding up your thighs until they rest on your waist. “The need will lessen with each passing hour, especially if spent with someone else.”

You hear his unsaid meaning. The need will pass with each release, like an overflowing bucket being emptied a spoonful at a time. Shakily, you nod, accepting his answer before letting out a whine when he pulls away from you.

A momentary stab of panic shoots through you, as he separates himself from your sweat slick skin, leaving you achingly empty as he pulls from you with a hiss.

You reach for him blindly, only just now realizing how dark it is. Halsin arrived as the sun was already dipping below the horizon but now it’s nowhere to be seen, the last rays of light slipping away sometime earlier, leaving the small room lit with nothing but weak candle light.

Halsin is nothing but a large dark mass in the poorly lit room, but you reach for him all the same, practically melting into him when his hands meet your flesh once more.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he assures, lips pressing to your forehead as his hands settle on your hips.

He urges you into a new position slowly, lips never leaving your skin as you settle onto your hands and knees, fingers digging into the blanket below you as he kisses over your shoulder and down your spine.

His hands move in the opposite direction, moving from the crook of your hips, up your sides before brushing over the swells of your breasts, gentle teasing stiff peaks between his fingers as he finally leans over you.

Your head falls forward as his lips brush your ear, your need burning anew and more fiercely than before at this new position.

“Is this alright?” he asks again, and for the first time tonight his careful consideration makes a tiny flicker of frustration burn in your chest.

For the first time since you can remember you’ve never been more than alright. But now - needy and vulnerable and displayed for him…

You groan, pressing back into him as his hands slide back up to your waist.

“Yes, I’m fine just, please!” Desperate need and desire flair up in you so violently it nearly makes your hips buckle, the only thing keeping you upright being Halsin’s firm grip.

“Please, alpha, take me.”

Calling him alpha, you presented before him, the sent of sex and sweat and heat, in the air…It’s all too much for the both of you.

The man behind you lets out a feral growl, and if this were any other man you’d be slightly afraid of what he’d do. But now…Utter excitement and arousal spread through your veins like liquid fire as he enters you in one swift thrust.

He was deep before, touching you in places you’d never felt before, but like this… You nearly choke on the scream of pleasure that tears from your throat. You drop your face into the blankets beneath you, stifling your sounds as Halsin continues his brutal pace.

A hand leaves your hips as calloused fingers slide beneath your jaw, pulling you up from the blankets just enough to turn your head to the side. His grip is firm but not ungentle as he leans down to capture your lips in a bruising kiss.

“Do not hide from me,” he says, teeth tugging at your bottom lip before he pulls away to nose at your cheek. “I wish to hear every sound you make. I want to hear my name fall from your lips, I want the Oak Father himself to know who you cry out for.”

A particularly hard thrust, the harsh grip on your hips, and his unusually filthy words make you come for a second time, obeying his demand to not hide your noises.

Your fingers dig into the soft fabric beneath you, and as Halsin continues his movement within you, you’re afraid you might tear it to shreds.

Gods… you can feel everything. Every vein, every ridge, every inch of him inside you. All of your nerve endings are on fire and you’re so sensitive you don’t know if it’s pleasure or pain pulsing in your core.

And for a moment it seems like Halsin isn’t even close to reaching his end despite him already driving you to your third release.

He presses down into you, one arm wrapping around your hips to keep your semi-limp form pressed to him as his other hand slides up to tangle into the hair at the base of your neck. He doesn’t pull harshly, instead he presses you further into the bedroll and covers beneath you, arching your back in a way that makes him hit impossibly deeper, reaching the end of you.

“Oh, fuck, Halsin!” you cry his name in pure ecstasy, as he fucks down into you, taking you and claiming you just like you wanted.

You feel it when his hips start to stutter, can hear his breathing grow even more ragged than it already was, his grip on your hips tightening as his thrusts turn more shallow.

It’s like you can sense his hesitance, and before he can ask the question you know he wants to ask you find yourself answering.

“In me,” you practically sob, pressing your hips back into him. “Come in me, please…”

He lets out a sound you can’t even identify, something close to a sigh and a cry of relief as he falls over you. His chest pressed flush against your back as he braces himself on one arm beside your head.

His head falls next to your own, lips pressing against you as his teeth tease the skin at the crook of of your neck.

You can feel him hesitate, pulling away until you reach up to tug him back down.

“No I- do it,” you beg. “Please I…I love you - please, do it.”

Part of you is panicked when he hesitates at your words, but it’s fleeting as Halsin’s teeth dig into your flesh. You cry out as he breaks skin and your third release washes over you, bringing Halsin over the edge with you.

His breath is hot against your skin as he moans, hips snapping into yours as he spills into, stilling as he slowly brings both your bodies to the ground.

His entire weight is settled on top of you, and you can't find it in you to care. In fact, you crave it. The feeling of him caging you in, his sweat slick skin against your own as he laps lazily at the new mark on your neck.

Eventually he turns, nuzzling at your cheek until you manage to turn to let him capture your lips in a kiss. It’s a slow, sensual thing. His tongue reaches to slide against your own as his arms move to slide beneath your body. He rolls you both onto your side, keeping you connected as he curls himself slightly around you, holding you against his chest.

He breaks the kiss only to trail his lips down, back to your neck hovering over the mark of his bite before placing one last kiss there.

For the first time in days you don’t feel the creeping burn anywhere. The first true relief you’ve felt truly settling over you as you relax back into the body behind you.

His arm sits snugly around your waist, his fingers tracing gentle patterns into your skin and up under your breasts before repeating.

“Are you…” He trails off for a moment. “Did I hurt you?”

You shake your head, turning to try and catch his eye over your shoulder, chest swelling with adoration when you see the concern flickering in his gaze. Your hand falls down to cover his own, giving it a firm squeeze.

“I’m perfect,” you assure him, pressing a kiss to his lips before settling into him again, fingers tracing absently over his arm around you.

“I…” Now it’s your turn to think about your words. “I’m sorry. If…what I said was - uncalled for.” Your words are stuttered and unsure.

You don’t want to apologize for what you said, because it was the truth. But you also don’t want him to feel obligated to return your affections just because of what transpired.

Sensing your inner turmoil, gentle fingers settle beneath your jaw, turning you to look at him once more. His brows are furrowed as he gazes down at you.

“Does it hold truth?” he asks simply, no accusation or frustration present.

You nod, reaching up to card a hand through his hair. “Yes I - they were true. I do…I think I’ve loved you for some time now but…”

His eyes soften. “You were afraid.”

You nod, eyes falling away from him in shame. But Halsin doesn’t let your feeling last long, he presses a gentle kiss to your cheek before resting his forehead against your own.

“I must admit that I feel the same,” he says, voice a mere whisper. “You have taken my heart in your hands and held it captive in a way I haven’t experienced in my long life. I do not wish to let you go easily.”

You smile, lips brushing his own as you speak. “Then don’t,” you say, reaching down to tug his arm tighter around you, “I’m yours. I meant that too.”

Halsin sighs in what you assume is relief, leaning down to press a kiss to your shoulder as he adjusts to hold you closer to him as you relax in his arms.

“And I am yours,” he tells you. “Now, sleep. This is far from over, but I will be here when you wake.”

Earlier, the thought of it taking days for the suppressant to work from your system made fear grip your heart. But now…

Now there’s just a warm syrupy feeling that settles deep in your belly as you take his advice and let your eyes fall closed.

Because with Halsin…you know you have nothing to fear.

#Halsin x reader #bg3 x reader #bg3 halsin #Halsin #bg3 #baldurs gate 3

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loveshotzz · 6 months

Text

My name’s Elvira, but you can call me tonight

steve harrington x eddie’sbestfriend!reader

Tongue Tied

summary: A Halloween party, Brenda, and teaching Steve that shotgunning isn’t just a trick guys use to kiss girls.

wc: 2.9k

warnings: My blog is 18+ fem!reader, slight jealousy, and a little insecurity if you squint, fluff, weed smoking and mentions of drinking.

<- 🎃 chapter one | mini series masterlist

Tina’s ‘witches brew’ was maybe just as bad as the music she picked, but Steve Harrington was staring at you from across the crowded room.

You’d only ever seen Top Gun once, and in all honesty you didn’t even need to watch it to know that he looked better than Tom Cruise. The brown leather of his bomber jacket fits snug across his broad shoulders, and tappers tight around his waist. It’s half way zipped up, revealing the white shirt underneath and the aviators that he’d walked in wearing dangling from the collar. The weight of them pulls the fabric down enough to catch a glimpse of the dark hair that covers his chest, and your throat dries up at the thought of him shirtless. His Levi’s are light washed and well worn, a soft outline of where he usually keeps his wallet dangerously close to where your gaze wants to linger. The black combat boots he wears somehow make his feet look even bigger, your thighs press together under your dress.

His eyes roam the length of your body the way you hoped they would when you decided to dress up as The Mistress of the Dark herself. Your plunging neckline begs for his hungry gaze, and you push up your chest to encourage it. A thick black belt hugs tight around your waist, accentuating your curves in a way that has you feeling more confident than normal. Especially when you catch the way he bites his bottom lip in a smirk, darkened eyes lingering on the fake dagger resting against the softness of your tummy. Wiggling your long black nails at him, you can’t help but relish in the fact that a simple wave makes the former king of Hawkins cheeks flush the same shade of red as your lips.

It had been four days since that night with Steve. A whole 96 hours and the boy across the room from you has occupied your thoughts for every minute of every single one. It was becoming a real problem, but yet here you were at a Halloween party you’d already said no to because you knew he would be here.

Robin’s very obviously telling a story next to him, her hands moving wildly as she gets more worked up with whatever is happening in it. She’s too focused on the way Nancy’s giggling in front of her to notice that her best friend isn’t listening, the full weight of his attention making your insides warm.

Is this what it’s like to be one of those girls?

Steve chugs the rest of his beer, throat bobbing with every large gulp before wiping his lips with the back of his hand. He holds your gaze even when you see him say something to Robin who waves him off, lost in the oldest Wheeler’s big blue eyes, and the first few steps in your direction is enough to send your heart into overdrive.

You almost lose sight of him when he starts to cross the makeshift dance floor in the living room, his wild auburn hair the only thing staying in your line of vision. It’s a mess of dancing bodies, and orange and black balloons already starting to lose their luster falling from the ceiling.

His eyes meet yours in the crowd and you feel the heels you can hardly walk in start to carry you closer, stepping over the empty cups and streamers that litter the floor. His smile widens, and you can’t find it in yourself to be embarrassed when you feel your cheeks push up doing the same.

It’s when Steve finally makes it to the edge of the crowd, stopping just a few more steps away from you when it happens. When she happens.

Brenda.

She’s dressed as Madonna, her perfect blond hair teased just right, giving it more volume than Steve’s even on his best day. Black fishnets cover her toned legs, with a matching tutu that leaves little to the imagination stopping just above the curve of her ass.

The corset she wears gives her breasts the kind of push that you know is the reason for Steve’s blush when she steps in front of him. Perfectly manicured pink nails dragging up his chest before her palm flattens just underneath where his sunglasses hang.

His eyes flicker between the two of you, a nervous laugh leaving his mouth at whatever she’s saying. He scratches the back of his neck when he responds, and it makes her throw her head back in flirty giggles before her fingers start playing with his jacket zipper.

The sting of rejection is harsher than you thought it’d be, and you hope he can’t see the way it wipes the smile clean off your face. Girls like Brenda always seemed to be the boy’s kryptonite. The urge to find your best friend is what keeps your feet moving, almost like that was your plan all along. The joint you stashed away earlier in his jacket pocket calls your name, and you don’t look at Steve as you walk past the two of them, even when you see his hand reach out for your wrist.

It’s just Steve anyway.

You keep telling yourself that, hoping that it will ease the slight lump in your throat. An anger bubbling just under the surface turning the heat in your stomach into something more like lava, a volcano bubbling, just ready to explode as you try to convince yourself that you don’t have a crush.

When you find Eddie in the next room, his tongue deep in his girlfriend Cece’s mouth on the couch, and you can’t hide the bitterness that drips from your tone.

“Make sure to get some oxygen so you don’t pass out, Jesus Christ.”

Your rude interruption makes them both pull apart with a loud smack, the fake blood he’d sloppily smeared down the corners of his mouth almost gone leaving a pink stain on his pale skin instead.

“What’s your deal? Can’t you see I’m a little busy.” Eddie’s gaze narrows into an annoyed glare, “Aren’t you supposed to be doing the same thing to Harrington.”

“That’s not why I came,” you snort, crossing your arms and it makes him raise his eyebrows in disbelief.

“Bullshit.”

The two of you stare each other down, unwavering, it’s only when his eyes flick towards the dance floor that he sees the cause of your sour mood. The hard lines on his forehead soften before he rubs a ringed hand over his face with an exasperated groan. Cece wraps her arms around his waist tighter, hearts taking over her pupils when she gets a front row seat of her boyfriend being your best friend.

“Here,” he sighs under his breath, pulling open his jacket to pluck out the perfectly rolled joint inside his hidden pocket. He holds it out to you in a peace offering.

“Thanks,” you mumble as you take it, giving him a weak smile before tucking the cone in your belt next to your lighter, “Go back to sucking each other's faces off, sorry to interrupt.”

Your joke makes her giggle, and Eddie grin in the kind of way that's contagious.

“He’s an idiot,” the metal head tries to comfort, “Honestly, he’ll tell you himself.”

“I’m fine.” You keep your expression as unreadable as possible, but you know it's futile to try and hide from him, “It’s just Steve.”

It’s colder outside than when you first got here, and you don’t have nearly enough alcohol in your system to keep you warm. Goosebumps rise on the inappropriate amount of skin you have showing for the season, making you wish you’d grabbed your jacket. The breeze rustles the leaves that refuse to let go or their brittle branches, mixing with the muffled bass of the music inside, while your heels make a hollow thump against the wood of Tina’s back porch.

Pulling out the joint and your lighter from your belt, you take a seat on the top of the stairs that lead to her backyard. There’s a shiver that runs down your spine as your thumb flicks the wheel that brings the flame to life, a temporary heat warming your face as you spin the fat end over the fire to burn it evenly. The earthy smell hits your nose, shoulders already relaxing before you take the first toke. Bringing it to your lips, you tuck your lighter back inside your belt, leaning back on your palm to look at the clear night sky above you as you inhale your first drag into your lungs.

It’s just Steve.

When you exhale, your eyes stay trained on the white wisps of smoke that shades the twinkling of the stars behind it and you try not to think of Brenda’s pink nails running through his hair. Your next hit is much bigger. The music from inside gets louder, making you jump when you hear the sliding glass door open. Straightening up, you turn around with a glare ready for whoever the intruder is, only to be face to face with the boy you’re trying to convince yourself you don’t like.

“Hey, there you are.” His smile is easy, and you hate that it warms you like the sun just from looking at it.

You raise your eyebrows in acknowledgment, hollowing out your cheeks taking another drag before bringing your gaze back to the sky. His boots sound heavier than your heels against the wood, some steps making the deck creak under his weight. The silence is thick with words on the tips of both your tongues, but neither one of you is willing to break it first. He sighs awkwardly out of his nose, rubbing his palms against his thighs before taking the seat next to you. Your knees knock together, and the heat of him so close sends another shiver down to your bones.

“Jesus, you have to be cold. It’s like 40 degrees outside.” Steve doesn’t hesitate to start shrugging off his jacket, and you clock the movements from the corner of your eye.

“Steve, no, really I’m fine,” you try to protest but he doesn’t listen, thick tan arms coming into view.

“Please, I can hear your teeth from here,” he chuckles, standing up to drape the leather over your shoulders, and you try not to stare at the way the hem of his shirt rises up revealing a dark happy trail.

It feels like he’s everywhere when your shoulders slot into the warm pockets where he just was, wrapped up in him just like on your couch. The spice of his cologne clings to the fabric on the inside, and you have to fight back the urge to bury your nose into the collar and inhale.

“Well aren’t you gonna be cold now?” You ask, finally daring to meet his eyes, taking another hit.

“Nah, I’ll be alright.” He winks with the kind of confidence that makes your face hot, clasping his hands together over his spread knees making your shoulders bump.

“So, Top Gun huh?” Giggling, you finally earn a Steve Harrington eyeroll.

“Look, I didn’t have to buy anything okay. I wasn’t even going to come tonight, until I heard,” he stops himself, pink dusting his cheeks and you don’t think it's from the frost in the air, “I’m surprised you’ve even seen it, doesn’t seem like your type of movie.”

“What’s my type of movie, Steve?” You grin with a cocked brow, letting the end of the joint rest against your bottom lip, the heat from before blooming deep in your gut when he tracks the movement licking his.

“I don’t know,” his heavy gaze makes your throat bob, “You tell me.”

You don’t think you’re talking about movies anymore.

“Isn’t Brenda going to be looking for you?” You tear your eyes away from him, taking another hit to seem nonchalant. The loud snort you get in response makes you jump.

“Brenda? No, I’ve been dodging that girl for months.” Running a hand through his hair, he dares to snatch the joint from between your fingers like he was some kind of professional or something. “Is that why you ran off on me in there?”

“I did not run off!” You huff, ducking your head inside his jacket to glare at him from over the top of it, “Why would I do that?”

Vulnerability softens Steve’s features when he looks at you tucked into his coat like it’s always meant to keep you warm.

“I don’t know,” he repeats quietly, “You tell me.”

Too scared of rejection, it’s his turn to look away bringing the joint to his mouth in an attempt to take a hit. You watch him hollow his cheeks, impressed for a second until he opens it to exhale and blows nothing out. A giggle slips past your lips that breaks the tension, making him groan loudly trying to fight his own smile.

“Look, I’m still new at this okay.” He sighs, a breathy laugh escaping him with a shake of his head handing it back to you. He’s only a little embarrassed, too enamored by how cute you look giggling at him.

“Hey, the confidence was there, you just gotta work on the technique.” You tuck your bottom lip between your teeth, something sweet dancing behind your eyes when you scoot a little closer. “Do you want me to shotgun it for you?”

It’s Steve’s throat that bobs now.

“Aren’t guys supposed to do that to girls? I mean, I’ve seen Eddie do it at a few parties…” he starts, eyes going wide when you scoff at him.

“Wow, your feminism is showing.”

“No, that’s not what I meant, it’s just like in movies - I’m not saying girls can’t - wow this is not coming out the way I want it too, I’m just going to shut up now.” Steve stammers, running another nervous hand through his hair, blowing out an exasperated breath before meeting you

with sheepish eyes.

“Are you driving tonight?” You ask, looking up at him from under your lashes, bringing the joint to your mouth.

“No, for once.” He gives you a lopsided grin that makes your head spin.

“Good.” Turning your body towards him, the confidence you’re trying to hang onto wavers being this close again.

It’s just Steve.

He looks nervous as you feel, but tries to hide behind a quiet laugh, the amber of the beer he drank inside lingering on his breath. The warmth of his palm finds a home on your fishnet covered thigh that’s revealed to him by the side slit of your dress, fingertips pressing into soft skin. The heat behind his stare makes your body buzz as you inhale the last little bit of the joint into your lungs, beckoning him closer with a hum, and a curl of your long nails you snuff the rest out on the stairs. Surely Tina won’t mind.

“Really?!” Steve half whispers, half yells but the whites of his teeth show giving him away.

The corners of your mouth twitch as you lean forward catching the way his gaze flicks down, and how the view makes the gold specs inside his eyes darken. Resting your hand on his cheek, the stubble tickles your palm when your fingers spread out, your thumb coaxing his chin down to open up more for you. His long lashes flutter when his nose bumps with yours, heads turning just enough for lips to brush for a second and you feel the blunt ends of his nails dig into the holes of your fishnets.

You release your hit, feeling him steal the air from your lungs, his hand daring to move up your thigh to your waist where he tugs you even closer. He holds it in for a second, both of your eyes meeting down the bridge of your nose but neither of you pulling away.

Do it.

When he exhales there’s hardly anything left, but you take it anyway, your fingers finding their way to the hair at the nape of his neck. He squeezes at the dough of your hips, in a silent plea to put him out of his misery and just when you think you’re about to show him mercy the sound of the music getting louder and the sliding glass door opening makes you both jump away.

“Hey! - Oh shit! Sorry Harrington, I didn’t know you were out here.” Eddie tries to apologize profusely with his eyes when he sees the glare you’re shooting him. “I just sold the last of my stuff and Cece’s ready to go, so if you still need a ride?”

Your best friend looks at Steve begging him to take the opening to hopefully spare his life.

“I didn’t drive tonight if you can actually believe,” Steve laughs nervously scratching the back of his neck, “or obviously I’d love nothing more for you to stay.”

He says the last part softly, just for you more than pleased when he sees you try and fight the smile from taking over your face.

“Maybe next time,” you look at him from under your lashes hoping that he picks up the fact that you want a ‘next time.’

The blush that turns the tips of his ears pink tells you he does. He watches you get up and start to shrug his jacket off, shaking his head as he stands up to stop you.

“Keep it tonight, honey. It looks better on you anyway.”

-> chapter three

#my writing #steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington thoughts #steve harrington series

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httpknjoon · 2 months

Text

(re)starting over again | kth; 13

plot | Your four-year relationship with Taehyung was going well and strong. Until he was involved in a car accident, resulting to him losing some memories. By some, it means everything that happened five years ago. Things he remember? His friends, his bakeshop, and his ex girlfriend from the past. With that, you tried to keep up, restarting over again.

words | 3.8K+

genres | fluff, angst, amnesia au

pairing | taehyung x reader

note | it's been so long! let me know what u think of this one. enjoy!

main masterlist | series masterlist

Maybe it was a sign.

After two years of focusing on other aspects of your life, you finally opened yourself up for getting into the dating game. But, nothing has been fruitful in these last three dates you have gone to. Or Martha is just a bad matchmaker.

Well, it’s not her fault your date cannot come tonight. Your date, Jung Hoseok, was not able to show up tonight. You had to wait for almost thirty minutes in that chair, with your ex-boyfriend in front of you with his own date, before Hoseok called to say that he was needed in the hospital all of a sudden.

“Hey, YN?” You can sense how gentle his tone is when you answer the call.

“Uh, hey.” you chuckled awkwardly, easing off the twist you could feel in your stomach. “Where are you?”

Then, you heard a small sigh from the other line followed by a sentence, “I’m on my way back to the hospital. I’m sorry.”

“Oh…”

Your heart dropped. You felt your shoulder deflating with that sad, pathetic sound you hear from a balloon when air slowly empties. Not knowing what to say, you waited for him to say something.

“I’m really, really sorry, YN. I am so excited to meet you but I got a call from the hospital and there was this big road accident. They needed me back there. I’m so sorry.” he explained.

Pursing your lips, you looked down your lap, “It’s fine, I understand.”

No second thoughts, you just replied that. You used to work in the same field as him. Of course, you know how hectic and stressful working in the hospital can be, particularly in the emergency department, where Martha said he works.

“I’m really sorry. I promise to make it up to you. Thank you so much, YN. I appreciate it so much.”

“No problem.” you hung up. You took one last sip in the cold glass of water.

Don’t look at him. Don’t look at–

Stubborn, your eyes rolled to your side, where you can see him without really moving your head. A boxy smile is formed on Taehyung’s lips while he chat with the woman in front of him. You can only see the lady’s back but you can tell that the two are having a great time with each other’s company.

Well, at least one is having a great date.

When you became conscious of your nose flaring, you looked away and decided to go. The host instantly met your eyes, where you see the last thing you want to see from someone: an apologetic smile. You returned it with a forced smile.

“He had an emergency,” you told him with an awkward chuckle even though he didn’t say anything.

He nods as he helps you with your coat, “That’s a shame.”

“I know. My best friend even picked this pretty dress for this date.” you quipped in an attempt to lighten up the conversation. The host laughed at that. You turned to him as you fixed your beige-colored coat, “Anyway, I’ll go back here next time with him.”

You walk out of Starry Night and almost instantly, your smile fades away from your lips. You hoped Taehyung didn’t notice you leaving. Maybe he didn’t, he is on a date. Of course, he won’t pay attention to someone who left him and never showed up again after saying that she would come back to their house to talk—

Stop.

Those rambling thoughts almost suffocated you within seconds as you got lost in it, making you shake your head. Your jaw tightened before you reached for your phone. I should just go home. You click on the app to look for your ride. And within a few seconds, you spotted someone just right around your location.

“This one’s just a few minutes away–”

“YN?”

You froze, index finger a few millimeters close to touching your phone screen as you were about to book for a ride. He didn’t have to repeat your name again just so you could tell who said it. Before saying anything, you turned around. Your eyes widened while your shoulders raised, acting surprised. It was probably a lame try.

“H-Hey!” you greeted him, tone a bit higher than normal.

“I thought you were already gone.” he chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. “Long time no see! How are you? Why are you outside?”

“Oh, uhm, I’m fine. I’m actually going home. How about you?”

“I’m about to go too. I just came here from Seoul to meet someone,” he replied. “I actually drove coming here.”

Your eyebrows raised in real surprise, “Oh, you’re driving again?”

“Yeah, it became handy since the bakery now does ‘For Delivery’ orders. I do the delivery job most of the time.”

You nodded in delight, “That’s really great. It’s nice to hear the bakery is growing more successful.”

You smiled, hoping that he felt your sincerity, and Taehyung replied with a small thank you. His hands were in his pants’ pockets while you rubbed your hands together, both looking around. For a few seconds, you two waited for someone to say something. But no one did. This invincible, empty space between you two grew bigger in a short silence. You can only hear the jazz music from the restaurant inside and the crickets which are somewhere outside tonight.

You took that time to scan your eyes from his shoes to every feature of him you always notice. He seemed taller, maybe because of the shoes. His shoulders did look a bit broader, making you wonder if he began going to the gym again. His cheeks still seem soft but slimmer than the last time you saw him. You hope he’s been eating well, and taking care of himself. His hair did not change much. He still keeps the same length. Not too short, not too long. And when your eyes travel back to his eyes, your heartbeat stops when you realize he is looking directly back at you. In a snap, you turned your eyes away.

“So… you said you are going home?” he recalled, breaking the smothering silence.

You nodded, “Yeah, I’m just waiting for my ride.”

Liar. You haven’t even booked a ride yet. Well, you were just about to if he didn’t suddenly show up.

“Or I could just drive you home?” he offered, making you look at him.

“You’re driving back to Seoul, right?”

“Yeah, why?” he asked, nonchalantly.

“It will take you longer to drive back home. It can take an hour,” you told him as you know how far these two cities are from each other.

But he shrugged it off, “It’s fine, I don’t mind.”

For someone who just ran in with an ex unexpectedly, he seems to be handling this better than you.

Because it was just strange for you. Happy? Sad? Scared? Neither of those. Admittedly, you were surprised when you saw him inside. But now, talking to him, you just don’t know what to feel. You were never prepared for what to do when you see him again. For hell’s sake, you stopped planning this last two years. You just let things happen and never expected life would send Taehyung to Incheon while waiting for your date– Wait, date!

“But how about your date? Are you not going to drive her home?” you asked, recalling the woman he was chatting with earlier.

Why is he even here? He should be with her right now. Did he forget about her?

Expecting a different reaction, you were confused when he narrowed his eyes as he said, “Date? What date?”

Your brows furrowed, “Weren’t you just on a date with someone inside?”

“Hmm...” a tight smile formed on his lips, making you assume that you were right about him forgetting his date. But he continued, “Do you mean Ashley? She’s a client who wants to have my cakes on her restaurant’s menu.”

“Oh.”

It was like a bucket of cold water splashed over you. If you can just facepalm yourself right now without looking stupid, you would. Instead, you looked down and grimaced at your dumb assumption, remembering how you spent your free time while waiting earlier wondering and eyeing him and his date.

On the other hand, Taehyung has to bite his cheek to stop himself from smiling at your flustered reaction. He felt like what happened broke the tension that had been lingering between you and him. His heart has not stopped beating like crazy ever since he talked to you five minutes ago. His hands, that are still in his pockets, were trembling that you might notice it so he kept them there. He really didn’t think this through when he approached you.

It took you a few more seconds to look at him again. This time, with a look he recognized from one of the photos he saw in the photo album before. It was an apologetic, guilty expression that he finds adorable.

“I’m sorry. I thought that you were on a date.”

He shook his head side by side, “I don’t– I’m not.”

He had to stop himself from saying he doesn’t date or did not date anyone ever since you two went separate ways. It may sound like he has been miserable this past couple of years– he’s not. He just doesn’t feel like putting himself out there again. Especially when he feels like he has some unfinished things from his past relationship. But he was relieved to see you here. He can tell you’re doing great.

The color, the brand, the familiar fruity scent of air freshener.

These were the first things you noticed as soon as you got in his car. You almost felt comfortable in the passenger seat since everything was almost the same as his old car when you two were still together. Even after the whole accident, he ended up choosing the same things he chose before he forgot those five years of his life.

“So… when did you start driving again?” you asked to fill the empty silence while he drove, following the address you typed in his GPS.

“Just a year ago. Jimin was worried at first but eventually became supportive,” he replied, smiling at you when he mentioned his best friend.

“It’s funny, you have almost the same car you have years ago.”

You don’t know why, but you felt like saying that. It was totally in contrast to how quiet you were about your relationship with the people you met here. You avoided talking about your past relationship with Taehyung, specifically the accident and its aftermath, ever since you moved to Incheon. The friends you made here barely know about him. They know that you were in a long-term relationship years ago but they are not aware of the accident and why you two broke up.

“Huh, really?” Taehyung kept his eyes on the road but you could tell he was interested to hear more about it.

“Yeah, it has the same color and brand. I can even tell you the air freshener you used because you like the same ones from that Japanese brand.” you quipped, chuckling.

“Okay, what is it?” he challenged you.

You didn’t even waste a second to answer, “Air Spencer, the Squash one. But it smells like citrus. You like it because it’s strangely boosting your mood and you don’t know why.”

Taehyung laughed at that, agreeing, “And until now, I don’t know why! But I just bought it when I saw it while shopping months ago.”

“You were curious about its packaging?” you guessed.

“Yep.” Taehyung smiled. “And I think it was the best purchase I made for this car.”

You laughed at that before recalling a similar sentence from the back of your head.

“See– I mean, smell! Don’t it smell good?”

Taehyung opened the door to his car’s passenger seat after waiting for you to finish your graveyard shift for almost an hour. When you were on your short break, you two exchanged texts and he brought up this topic: after almost a year of looking for a good air freshener. He bragged about this air freshener until your break ended since he was so sure that you would love it too, knowing that you get dizzy if he used those strong scents.

You cannot help but laugh with his childish enthusiasm, “Okay, okay! Let me take it in for a minute.”

You smiled and he watched you calmly inhaling the fresh citrus scent. Then, you slowly opened your eyes. For a thrill, you kept a plain expression on your face.

“And? What do we think?” he asked.

You raised your hand with a thumbs-up, grinning. “This one’s great! Keep it.”

“I knew it! Okay, this is officially my best purchase of the year.” he quipped before turning the key to start the car.

You softly smiled at the memory. It felt easy remembering it now and the same as talking to Taehyung about the past now. Strange. You remembered how many times you stopped yourself from talking too much about it before when Taehyung got back from the hospital.

“Can I ask something?” Taehyung said as he stopped for a red light in an empty intersection. He took the time to glance at you.

“Yeah, sure.” you shifted on your seat, feeling more comfortable now.

“What you were doing in the restaurant alone?”

You looked away as you replied, “I… I was supposed to meet up with someone.”

“A date?”

The traffic light turned green and he kept his eyes on the road when he asked that. Even though Taehyung denies it, he felt something in his gut while waiting for you to answer. There is just something in him heightening that just wants to hear a confirmation that yes, you are dating someone.

“Yup.”

His stomach dropped as he held the steering wheel firmer.

You continued, “But he had a work emergency. So, he had to skip tonight.”

“Oh, what’s his job?

If your boyfriend prioritizes his job over you, then–

“He’s a doctor, working in the emergency department. So, I understand when he called and explained earlier.” you cut off any thought he had.

A nurse and a doctor. That seems to fit perfectly for each other.

“How long have you two been dating?”

“Oh, no. We’re not dating dating. Tonight was supposedly our first date. My friend from work set us up for a blind date. They have been trying so hard to get me into a relationship for months now after I agreed earlier this year. But so far, nothing great has been happening.” you joked as you looked outside the window.

Do you know how comfortable you must be to talk to an ex about your current status in dating?

But this is easy.

Talking with him. Maybe because you two haven’t seen each other for a couple of years. You feel okay telling him everything. Or maybe because it was just with him. It was like you were talking with the guy you met years ago. But whatever the reason is, you prefer this whole conversation to the ones you two had after the accident.

“Well, I haven’t been in the dating scene for a long time. I am just focusing on the bakery. I already lost count of customers who want to set me up with their daughters and granddaughters.”

Taehyung brought up his own dating status after you opened up yours. You were being honest, he can feel it. And it would be unfair if he didn’t reciprocate the same thing. The fear he had to look miserable when admitting he didn’t date anyone after you faded when you opened up about your own status– without looking miserable at all. Just honest.

“Really? Why did you never get into one?” you asked.

And even though Taehyung can think of a good reason in the back of his head, he only replies with the same reply he said to everyone who asked him before.

“Eh, I don’t feel like it.”

“There. That’s my building.”

You pointed your index finger to your apartment building after Taehyung took a left turn. He looks at the white, five-floored building, sticking out like a sore thumb as it stands between high towers of buildings. He slowed down and stopped in front of the said building. He waited for you to remove the seatbelt before calling your name. You look at him.

“Hey… uhm, The shop might have a small celebration in Seoul after the whole contract signing thing and I was hoping that maybe you can come? I’m sure Jimin would invite you too if he was the one who met with Ashley tonight. You can also bring some friends from here if you want to.” he suggested, trying to maintain his composure as he spoke.

It took you a few seconds to respond. You looked at him then looked away for a few moments. Then, looked back at him again. It lasted for only less than a minute. But Taehyung felt like it was the longest one minute of his life until you nodded.

“That sounds nice. I’ll think about it…” you replied, not really wanting to commit to a final answer tonight. “But thank you so much for driving me home.”

“No problem. You're welcome.”

You got out of the car with your purse in your hand. The cool breeze blew your hair and you had to tuck it at the back of your ear as you took one last peek down to the open window. You have this small smile on your lips that just brought warmth to his chest.

“I didn’t change my number. Did you?” you asked.

He shook his head for an answer.

“Then, I’ll reach out if I can celebrate with you guys. Okay?”

The last time you told him something about reaching out, you ended up typing and erasing letters in your phone a thousand times. But now that you two met each other incidentally, maybe you will find it easier to send him a text.

“Okay. It was nice seeing you again, YN.”

A faint smile formed on his lips, revealing those familiar smile lines you used to trace years ago. You reciprocated it.

“Yeah, you too. Drive safely back to Seoul.”

Turning your back, you walked to your building. You thought about how tonight was unexpected. Running to an ex you never saw for the last two years and how amicable everything between you two is, considering how you went on separate ways. Before opening the door, you turned around. Surprised to see him still there, you chuckled and gave him a small wave.

He waved back. And when he sees you getting into your building, Taehyung begins to drive away. The same smile stays on his face unconsciously. He hummed along to the pop song from the radio. Just when he was driving along the long highway back to Seoul, his phone rang. He accepted the call after seeing who it was.

“Hey, I’m on my way back,” Taehyung stated.

“Oh, okay. How was tonight?” Jimin inquired, still unaware of unforeseen events that happened.

With his head on the clouds with whom he just spent the last thirty minutes, Taehyung replied, “It was… unanticipated.”

“Huh?”

Confused, that was the only thing his best friend managed to say. That’s when Taehyung snapped out to reality.

“Oh, I’ll tell you about it tomorrow. But it went great.”

“Taehyung told me everything.”

Almost two weeks after you broke things off with Taehyung and moved into your new apartment, you found an unexpected guest on your doorstep. Jimin holds a familiar box of their own bakeshop cake as he offers a sympathetic smile on his face.

“Then, Jisoo told me where you moved,” he explained further before you pushed your door wider to let him in.

You still haven’t changed from your work clothes since you only got home like ten minutes ago from your new job. You see him looking around your place and you are glad your home isn’t as messy as it was days ago. Then, he turns to you.

“I brought you this carrot cake as a gift. I know you love Taehyung’s cheesecake but we ran out of those today.” he quipped, handing you the box.

“I like your carrot cake too. Don’t worry. Thank you, Jimin.” you smiled but it slowly faded, “I’m sorry if it was too sudden.”

Your voice sounded small as you apologized. Knowing Jimin for years now, he became one of your closest friends too through Taehyung. You knew he was probably surprised too when he learned about what happened between you and his best friend. You thought that maybe he was mad too.

But instead, Jimin sighed and opened his arms for you. You sighed too before hugging him. It felt warm and comforting.

“You don’t need to say sorry. You don’t owe anyone anything,” he said. “I came by to check how are you. You’re my friend too, you know?”

And before you could answer, he spoke again, “Actually, how about we talk about this over food?”

That’s how you two ended up having a one-on-one conversation in a McDonald’s parking lot for hours. You opened up about your feelings and thoughts the last few days before Jisoo’s wedding and how you reacted after learning about Taehyung meeting Lily. Thirty-four minutes past eight in the evening, you ended up telling your side. Empty ketchup packets lay on the hood of Jimin’s car next to crumpled burger wrapping papers. You and Jimin leaned on the car.

“I just felt like we need to be apart. I’m burning out, I needed to get away. We needed to be on our own.” you exhaled.

“But what if his memories come back?”

There was never a time you thought about that question every time you felt down since the accident. It made you stay before. But you later figured out that hope is tiring you out and you cannot give anything from you anymore.

“I cannot hold on to a what-if, Jimin,” you replied. “I thought I could. But he’s in another timeline and I don’t exist in that part of his life. As much as I want to stay with him, I know that he’s still thinking of something else from his past.”

Reality hurts, and sometimes honesty too. You just sighed with how melancholy that realization made you days before deciding to leave Seoul.

“I know, I’m sorry. I just…” you looked at Jimin when he had to pause and take a deep breath to speak again. “I really hate how that accident changed everything for you guys.”

You took a sip from your Sprite, looking at a distance, “I know.”

Me too.

taglist rules

RESTARTING OVER AGAIN TAGLIST [🔧🔨 ]

@iamkookiesforyou @aianloveseven @hoodalmighty @taebangtanbabe @nooojaaam @hiimnothing @hiqhkey @kthsmoon @annenakamura @taebangtanbabe @shin-ie @prlan @starlight-night0 @teddybeartaetae @http-fayeradise @tannies-luv @betysotelo18 @honsoolgloss @aurorathi @paulaaa97 @satisfied18 @telepathytae @talkyoongitome @my-current-mood-is @sofilsword

PERMANENT TAGLIST

@dunixxd @cixrosie @jksjx @embrace-themagic @buttvi @starbtslove @missseoulite @vanntaesworld @kenqki @imajinthis @stopeatread @seolaquotes @greyrain23 @chimchimmarie @petalsofink @jayhope88 @moonchild1 @laylasbunbunny @nikkiordonez12 @ficluvr613 @misshale21

#bts angst #bts x reader #bts series #taehyung angst #taehyung fluff #taehyung x reader #taehyung au #taehyung series #bts amnesia #taehyung amnesia #bts established relationship au #taehyung established relationship #restarting over again kth

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srgntjamesbuckybarnes · 8 months

Note

Hey, I was wondering if your asks were open? If so, could it be possible to get bucky x reader oneshot or something with a reader who sprained/broke their wrist pretty bad? I sprained my wrist pretty bad and need a little something to cheer me up.

Doctor's Order (1)

Summary: Y/N sprains her wrist; Bucky is the only Avenger to understand.

Rating: Everyone

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 800+

A/N: Not Beta’d. To the person who requested this, get well soon!

Part 1

“It’s not that bad.”

“It happens to everyone.”

Those were the phrases used by the Avengers to console Y/N. It was ironic coming from the enhanced bunch. To an ordinary person, it was that bad and it didn’t happen to everyone. Especially not to the overly experienced enhanced Avengers telling her otherwise.

Who would have thought that bracing a fall could seal someone’s fate for months. Bedridden on a grade 3 wrist sprain wasn’t ideal but it was necessary. Y/N had been restless, eager to use both hands again, to feel normal again. Instead, Y/N’s wrist was bandaged lying limply at her side.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Sighing, Y/N used her free hand to mute the television. Her day had been filled with non-stop visits from the Avengers but none of them understood. They couldn’t understand something they hadn’t experienced. She’d rather be left alone. Attempting to push herself up, a lightning bolt of pain shot through her wrist and Y/N was once again reminded of the helplessness she felt.

No sooner than the yelp escaped Y/N’s lips did the door open.

Clutching her wrist to her chest, Y/N whispered, “Please just leave me alone. You don’t know how it feels-” Her voice caught in her throat when her eyes met concerned cerulean orbs. If anyone knew what she was feeling, it was Bucky Barnes.

Slipping through the crack in the door, Bucky crossed the bedroom with a yellow smiley face floating above him.

“It's from the team,” Bucky announced awkwardly, tying the balloon to the bedpost.

“Oh.”

Before Y/N could thank him, his cool Vibranium palm pressed into the center of her back helping her sit up. His flesh hand shoved a pillow behind her to prop her up.

“Thank you,” Y/N muttered. “You didn’t have to do that. I could have leaned on my good arm.”

Bucky stepped back, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “I know, but you don’t have to do it all by yourself.”

Y/N gnawed at her bottom lip. Guilt swirled in the pit of her stomach. She hadn’t expected Bucky to be the one to walk through the door. “Listen Bucky, what I said-”

Bucky shrugged. “You don’t have to explain. I get it. The team means well.” Bucky’s eyes suddenly lit up, then he pulled a card from his back pocket. “It’s not much but,” he trailed off with the card extended between his Vibranium fingers. His face scrunched up as his flesh palm slapped the center of his forehead. His fingers made quick work of removing the card from the envelope. “Sorry about that,” he mumbled, handing her the card.

Y/N chuckled at his awkwardness. Staring at the front of the card, Y/N smiled at the happy face with the words “Get Well Soon!” printed across it to match the balloon. Written in black ink and all capital letters was the word “You” followed by an arrow pointed to the smiley face. Y/N didn’t need to ask who wrote it. Y/N didn’t understand it, but Bucky always wrote in all caps.

Bucky rubbed the back of his neck gauging her reaction as she one handedly opened the card.

The bottom read, “IN MY OUR HEARTS,” followed by a bunch of the Avengers names. Each name was written in all upper-case letters. Rather than calling Bucky out on signing the Avenger’s names, she thanked him.

“You should elevate your arm, keep the swelling down.”

“Thank you, Doctor Barnes,” She mocked.

The super-soldier grinned. “I’ll just let you get back to,” he waved a hand toward the television, “whatever that is. Let me know if you need anything.”

Before Bucky could reach the door, Y/N called out, “Wait.” Bucky turned around. “I could use some company,” she said sheepishly, patting the side of her bed.

Bucky blushed. He raced toward the bed like a dog finally allowed on the furniture. Kicking off his boots, he sat cross legged beside her. His hands respectfully on his knees. Y/N unmuted the TV allowing foreign voices to fill the space. The silence between them was comfortable.

Glancing at the smiley face bobbing at the end of the bed then to Bucky’s upturned palm, she extended her injured wrist lacing her fingers with his. Startled, Bucky’s head snapped over his shoulder to look back at her. She was smiling. The corners of his lips twitched upward. “What are you doin’?”

Averting her eyes back to the screen, she shrugged. “Elevating my wrist.”

The cool contrast of his Vibranium arm acted as ice providing her instant relief but she would never admit it.

Bucky smirked, his Vibranium thumb running feather light circles over her bandage. “Just what the doctor ordered.”

Next Part

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chichikoi · 18 days

Text

hiraeth.

part II. synopsis: she watches as cassian falls for another, grappling with her own hidden affections and their newly snapped mating bond in the process. pairing: cassian x fem!reader fandom: a court of thorns and roses (book series by sarah j maas) genre: angst warnings: none a/n: house of balloons/glass table girls, this is his song... i love him. fluff part two coming up OBVIOUSLY, im not fucking ending it like this i cant do this to my #1 loverboy babygirl kitty princess beloved. @joyseuphoria hi <3

Cassian had always been the beacon of power and resolve, with a demeanor rugged and unyielding. But beneath the surface was vulnerability, and she knew that it was written in the stars for her to remain by his side as his closest friend and confidante, never to become one to uncover that side of him.

But it didn’t make it easier. Watching him as he fell for Nesta’s every glance, every touch, every word that escaped her mouth seemed to throw him deeper and deeper into a trance. And she was fine with that, and accepted it. Accepted that she would never be the object of his softened glances, his featherlight touches, his-

Her thoughts halted as Cassian stormed into the room, frustration radiating off him in waves. She glanced up from her book, her eyes immediately catching the tension etched onto his features. Without a word, she closed her book and shifted, making room for him on the couch.

Cassian collapsed beside her, his movements rough yet familiar. He stretched out, his feet finding their place on her lap almost instinctively. Y/N didn't flinch; instead, she settled into the comfortable silence, waiting for Cassian to speak.

"It's Nesta," he finally muttered, his voice heavy with frustration. "Training with her…it was like walking on eggshells. One wrong move, and she was tearing into me with those ice-cold eyes."

She listened attentively, her gaze soft as she absorbed his words. "It was like she was always testing me," Cassian continued, his voice growing softer with each word. "Pushing me to my limits, making me question everything I thought I knew about myself."

Her fingers instinctively started to massage his feet as he spoke. It was a small gesture, one born out of years of friendship and trust. Cassian didn't protest; instead, he leaned back against the cushions, allowing the soothing touch to ease the tension from his muscles.

As the minutes stretched on, their conversation ebbed and flowed, the weight of Cassian's burdens slowly lifting with each passing moment. Y/N listened, offering words of comfort when needed, but mostly content to provide silent support.

Cassian's breathing eventually evened out, his body relaxing against the cushions. Y/N glanced down to find him fast asleep, his features softened by the serenity of slumber. She smiled softly, her heart swelling with affection.

Suddenly, chains, bolts, and locks shifted, loosening, their weight growing just a little more tolerable. A soul peeked through. Broken, scarred, and trembling — with fear, she realized, but it stretched further and further. Yearning, searching.

It was as though a tether had snapped into place, an invisible thread binding her to Cassian in a way she had never felt before. Confusion flickered as she processed the intensity of the connection, the undeniable pull drawing her closer to him.

She was aware that this was not happening in the slightest. A mind trick. A dream, she thought. betraying once, the jolt of real-time that pushed through her. Burning her cheeks and stealing her breath. How the waking world slipped past the knobby parts of her fingers like a whisper, barely there, because dreaming was just a fancier word for getting lost. It held her there, suspended in imagination and for every second, it felt real. Like she could grasp the outlines and the textures. Like she could touch the weather, drink the clouds, and taste the sunlight.

The gods who had her in a chokehold withdrew.

Death feared her too, it seemed.

He was soaring in the air, and she was on the ground. She tried to reach him but he was far, far out of her reach. Seconds ticked by, and then minutes, and every thought that tried to sneak its way in, through this thick veil, bounced off and dissipated into thin air.

Because she then remembered… that beautiful things shouldn’t be broken. And she had a knack for breaking things.

The soft rays of dawn streamed through the windows of the House of Wind, casting a warm glow over the sitting room where she and Cassian had fallen asleep. As she stirred from her slumber, she found herself alone on the couch, the imprint of Cassian's presence still lingering in the air. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes, her mind foggy with the remnants of… dreams? Visions? She felt as though the very fabric of her existence had been torn asunder, leaving her adrift in a sea of uncertainty, but when has that ever stopped her?

So she stood on the ground and longed.

part II here >>

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spacedace · 8 months

Text

Reluctant War AU Part 3

Part 1 Part 2

More of the brain worm that has taken me over, gonna probably post it to Ao3 here before too long. Already got another part started and so many ideas for additional stuff, someone please send help I've been consumed by this thing lol

Sorry if Waller seems out of character, outside of fandom I'm mostly familiar with her through Justice League the animated show & Justice League: Unlimited and her vibe there has always struck me as "deeply incredibly unlikable character that also kind of has a point but also has done so much fucked up shit in the name of her goals that you don't really care about her point anymore." So you know, complicated lol. If she's completely unrecognizable let me know, but I'm hoping she feels at least somewhat like Waller.

Forgot to say this in the last update, but still feel free to use all this as an overly long prompt if yall want. Literally anything I throw out to the void should be treated as a prompt lol If there's anything at all interesting to you in any of this nonsense go for it <3 <3 <3

---

Amanda Waller was someone who did what needed to be done.

Ruthless, heartless, vicious, cruel.

She’d been called it all. Wore the words thrown as insults as a badges of pride and valor. Because at the end of the day, when it came to the problems she was given to face, the issues she was meant to solve, those words meant she’d done what others had been too squeamish or cowardly to do. Life was a never ending slog of trolley problems and she the only one unshakable enough to pull the levers that needed pulling.

It wasn’t so simple as a matter of greater good.

Greater good was what the weak willed muttered to themselves after having feelings over doing the bare minimum. A justification used by people on all sides to do what they wanted with fractured, faulty logic thrown around like truth was a thing immutable. To assuage their guilt when they were forced to make a call they didn’t want to.

It wasn’t a matter of greater good. It was a matter of preservation. Of protection. Of digging through the filth to find the threats skittering beneath and crush them with ruthless abandon. Of facing a god and not blinking because if you did it could cost the world.

Of doing what needed to be done, no matter how underhanded or atrocious it was.

Hands dirty.

Hands red.

Hands wrapped tight around the throat of something that could threaten to destroy it all.

When the Ghost Investigation Ward had been shoved her way with it’s sucking wound of a budget, it’s bloated incompetent staff, its asinine methods she’d seen a rotted limb in need of hacking off. It hadn’t been until she’d been conducting her inspection, digging through the trash for a few pearls of effective agents she could snatch up and put to work elsewhere, that she’d truly seen what they were working on. The potential.

Potential to better arm themselves with in the forms of the strange new weapons being created.

Potential for threats far greater than anything even she had thought possible before.

The GIW as it had been when she’d first come across it was a fetid waste of time and resources. A laughing stock agency only secret because no one took them seriously enough to look. Made stupid and useless with its own conceited delusions of importance it didn’t actually have. Yet.

She went to work on it. Hacking away as she’d originally intended, but this time with a different goal in mind. She ripped out the weeds with bare, calloused hands and planted proficiency and loyalty in their place. She took over as director herself, tossing the self-aggrandizing fool that had been running the place into the ground to the dogs as the culprit for misappropriate spendings, saving the agency by tweaking things until their ballooning budget was pinned neatly onto the former director as an embezzling charge.

Then she got to work.

The Fentons were brilliant, if entirely insane. But Amanda could work with that. She’d reigned Harley Quinn in - more or less - she could do the same to the two deranged scientists that so eagerly wanted to be apart of the fight against the dead. Especially when the benefit came in the form of the inventions they threw together so easily, especially when those inventions were weapons.

It took very little to get them on board with her plans for the GIW. Keeping their focus could be a chore, at times, but she didn’t even have to really do much in the way of pressing to get them back where she wanted them. They craved knowledge and understanding nearly as much as they craved the eradication of the entities themselves. Letting them have the first look at a new subject here, free reign over a vivisection there, it took so little to fuel their fervor and keep them busy working on the projects she set for them.

Things had been going smoothly.

For a time at least.

Until Phantom.

He’d been the main focus of the previous director’s attention, the big fish he’d so desperately wanted to catch and put up on his wall. Amanda wouldn’t lie and say it wasn’t a tempting prospect, but not one she’d put above the other projects she had set in motion since taking over. No, Phantom was powerful, enough to be a real problem one day, but she could the awkward youth in the way he held himself, the inexperience in how he handled situations. She had time to get everything else in order before focusing on getting Amity Park’s would-be hero brought to heel.

And he would be brought to heel. One way or another.

Hands dirty.

Hands red.

Hands wrapped tight around the Core of a fledgling god and bending him to her will.

An artifact, old an powerful, recovered with some effort. A means of controlling specters, of chaining them to the will of the artifact’s wielder. Dangerous in the wrong hands. Dangerous in the right hands.

It was shattered, and even whole and functional Phantom was resistant to its power. But Amanda Waller prided herself in her ability to see the potential in things. It could be repaired, be made better. Even gods could be bound, be made to kneel, with the right pieces, with the right application of force.

It was just a matter of time to gather everything needed.

Phantom didn’t know he could single handedly destroy every last member of the Justice League. The baby fat, the innocent eyes, the split-second hesitations when he fought. He knew enough to be confident in fighting the usual ghosts that haunted Amity Park, but he still very much saw himself as a little fish. Maybe it was the part of him that was still Daniel Fenton, gangly teenager not quite sure what he was truly capable of yet.

She had time before the Fenton’s son truly became an issue. Time to judge if his parents’ obsessiveness would overcome their - rather shoddy, by Amanda’s estimation - parental instincts and continue to hunt him once they knew the truth. Time to get as much out of them as she could before hand, should they falter at the idea of attacking their own son. Time for the staff to be repaired and returned to working order, to get the other items needed for the truly big fish hidden on the other side of the veil between worlds.

She had time.

Until she didn’t.

Pariah Dark had not been something she thought she’d have to account for - not yet, at least.

If he wasn’t already dead, she’d ring the Ghost King’s neck with her bare hands. His arrival had opened Phantom’s eyes to what he was capable of, of just how big of a fish he was. Worse still, Phantom’s defeat of the war mongering King changed the state of play. Phantom was no longer an impressively powerful half dead teenager.

He was King Infinite.

He was an Ancient.

He was getting on her last damn nerves.

Phantom’s rogue gallery were now firmly under the boy’s control. Still distinct nuisances around Amity Park, but no longer considered true concerns. They were loyal to their boy king, delighting in ruffling his feathers but never crossing the line into treason or attempted regicide. Which meant that the GIW was the only thing that held his attention.

Amanda took the time to send a care package to the former GIW director in his tiny, dank prison cell. As thanks for his carelessness in revealing to the entire town - both living and dead - of the agency’s existence and their intentions. Had he stuck to standard protocol, Phantom would have been none the wiser to their presence. Would have scratched his head and shrugged his shoulders at the ghost that went missing upon occasion. Would have been boredly uninterested in the people his parents had begun working with. Would have been taken by surprise when they finally came for him.

But no.

No that self-obsessed, fame chasing imbecile had to go and announce to everyone and their dead mother that the GIW existed and exactly what it was they were in Amity Park to do.

Phantom knew what they were there to do.

They could only count on his naive certainty that he could broker peace with them for so long.

Peace. As if he and his people weren’t the invading force, the monsters slipping in through the cracks between worlds, the latest threat that had to be accounted for. As if he himself hadn’t rent their world asunder himself in another world, another time. No. Peace was not something they could hash out with this baby-faced monarch with his too-big crown. Peace was the assurance of safety, security. Of control of the situation.

There could be no peace.

The higher ups were somehow surprised when Phantom took that to mean there would be war.

Amanda Waller was not.

The Fentons, as suspected, took the right side when all was revealed. Steady hands and flinty eyes as they crafted the weapons that would be needed for the coming fight. Minds even sharper in their maddened grief, hearts set on revenge for the son lost and the entity that stole his face and friends and sister in his garish pretense at humanity. They were blinded to the reality of the situation in its entirety, the potential in what their son truly was, but at the end of the day it didn’t really matter. They did what she needed them to do, they could believe whatever it was they wanted so long as they did.

By the time the boy king and his armies marched upon the Amity park facility, preparations had been put into place. The base in Amity had been stripped back to bare essentials, everything of importance moved to more secured locations.

The weapons labs.

The artifact.

The girl.

All tucked well away from the front lines where Phantom and his motley crew could not reach. Their time to be put in play would come, but not yet. First she needed to gauge what Phantom and his people were capable of, what they were willing to do in the name of what they wanted. Amity Park was a pawn well sacrificed on that front. As were the other facilities she’d left easy to find.

The problem with making children gods, with giving them crowns and calling them King and giving them armies to play with, was that they thought there should be rules. That even in the trenches tearing apart their enemies, there was a certain level of playing fair that everyone was held to. They thought there was a way the world worked, of how things should be that blinded them to more effective options even as time stretched on and desperation set in.

It was the Dead’s problem though, not hers.

She reached out to the Justice League. Sour faced, unhappy, bitterly reluctant to accept that she needed their help. Stone faced and barely containing their rage at what little they knew of the situation, they agreed to a meeting.

She didn’t let herself smile until she was well and truly alone in her office.

Greater good. A lie people told themselves. A fairytale told to children. A means of convincing the weaker willed that they had no choice, that they had a noble duty to bend to. A belief that could be wielded like a weapon if the fantasy of the idea had dug in deep enough. And there were few it had dug into so deep as the members of the Justice League.

Amanda Waller was someone who did what needed to be done.

Hands dirty.

Hands red.

Hands clenched tight on a victory long in the making.

---

Part Four

#dc x dp #dp x dc #dpxdc #danny fenton #amanda waller #GIW #ghost investigation ward #Jack Fenton #Maddie Fenton #bad parents jack & maddie fenton #cause none of this is angsty enough yet lol #tw references to vivisection #tw references to death #waller out here playing 3d chess #of course she wasn't surprised by the inevitable war she was just hoping she'd have her secret weapon ready before it actually kicked off #oh well she still has plans B - J to get through #and all the variations for each #gonna take care of her ghost problem and her justice league problem in one fell swoop if she gets her way #just throw some GIW agents into the meat grinder for a bit while she gets stuff in order & so she can see just what Danny is willing to do #anyway wonder what Elle is up to during all this #i'm sure she's fine and there's nothing to worry about #waller playing the long con yall

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sugoi-and-spice · 8 months

Text

Commission for the AMAZINGLY patient @i-likebread . Thank you so much for such a fun idea and again, for your patience during my summer writing dry spell. ^_^

Pairing: Sukuna x Reader, Yuji Itadori x Reader

Summary: At the end of the day, curses were trophic beings. Sukuna? Of course, he was an apex predator. He knew how to wait, to watch, to be patient. To wait until his prey was in exactly the right position where victory, making the kill, was guaranteed. Enter: Yuji’s new little girlfriend. The ingénue. The prey.

Rating: Explicit - Minors DNI

CW: Dub-Con, Non-Con, Rape by Deception, Cuckholding, Rough Sex, Virginity Loss, Painful Virginity Loss, Manipulation, mentions of Ero-Guro

If you're interested in getting your own Commission done, please refer to my Commission Sheet and shoot me a DM or e-mail! ^_^

Cross-Posted on AO3.

Everyone had told Yuji Itadori that it was a bad idea. A very bad idea. After all, just dating as a Jujutsu Sorcerer at all came with its fair share of risks. Dating as a Jujutsu Sorcerer while sharing a body with the King of Curses? It should’ve rendered him completely celibate. But to go beyond that, to not only date, but to date a normal, powerless girl with absolutely no knowledge of the existence of Jujutsu society and curses?

Now that was downright stupid.

Those were Gojo’s words too! Satoru Gojo’s — the stupid idea savant! That had certainly gotten Yuji to second guess things. When he left to meet her for their first official date, he’d gone there with all the intentions of breaking things off. But then…

Well, there wasn’t any big revelation. She’d just been her. And he just couldn’t let her go. There were very few moments in his life these days that were able to be just sweet and simple. So any he could have, he knew that he had to cling to, and cling to tight. And moments spent with her? They made him feel like life would never be complicated again.

So six months later, here they were at the matsuri of a temple near her school. And boy, watching her knelt over the shateki stall, silly little tongue sticking out of her mouth as she concentrated so deeply on the balloon she was aiming at, could he not regret it any less. Especially not when she looked so damn cute in that yukata.

POP!

“I got it!” she jumped back from the carnival game with a squeal, accidentally knocking Yuji in the chest with the pellet gun.

“Oomf—!”

She gasped, “Oh my gosh I’m so sorry!” and rushed forward to check his chest, almost hitting him in the face this time, “Are you hurt?!”

He was able to anticipate it this time though, catching the muzzle of the rifle in his palm with a laugh, “I’m fine, I’m fine. Let’s just put this down, alright?”

She relinquished it immediately, bringing her hands to her face to try and cover her blush as she nodded frantically. The moment had finally caught up to her, the fact that she’d almost taken him out twice with the toy rifle and got completely in his face, touching his chest. And the cutest embarrassment came along with it.

That was one of the things he really liked about her. She was shy and soft-spoken, but that didn’t stop her from ever living or hiding her true feelings when push came to shove. Especially when they involved other people. She often got ahead of herself, feet moving before her brain, throwing manners out the window if it meant helping somebody in need, blurting out the silliest little nonsensicals to try to ease an awkward silence. But never failing to revert back to that shyness and feel embarrassed about it in a way that always brought a smile to his face.

“Your prize, Miss.”

They both turned back to the game-tender, and Yuji instantly froze when he saw the prize being handed to her.

A little yarn doll, just big enough to be a keychain, and it— holy shit, it looked like—

“Aww, look at him Yuji!” she beamed, holding the doll up next to his face, “It looks just like you!”

He could feel his heart freeze with dread, his stomach twisting.

“W-What are you talking about?! No it doesn’t! It’s got tattoos!”

“Yeah. And four arms,” she rolled her eyes, “But look! It’s got your hair and eyes and that mischievous little smirk,” she wiggled it closer to his cheek, “That’s all troublemaker. All Yuji Itadori.”

He swatted the little doll away from his face, growing more and more prickly the longer she held it so close to him, “Is not!”

She giggled, taking his whining as embarrassment over being teased rather than anything serious,and pulled the doll back to clutch into her own palms lovingly.

“And it’s cute…” she blushed a little as she whispered, “...just like you.”

Yuji softened at the sight.

He needed to take it easy. It’s not like she could know the history there, the thing it actually looked like — he’d made absolute sure that she hadn’t, after all.

But still, the question remained:

“What’s it supposed to be anyway?” he asked, “A mascot or something?”

He had to know, it was just uncanny how much it looked like Sukuna. And this temple didn’t have any ties to the Jujutsu world that he knew of. Not that he knew a lot. But he hadn’t seen any sorcerers or cursed energy residuals in the area. If anything, it was weird how few curses — even flyheads — were in this area, considering how old the temple was.

“I guess it’s the guardian spirit of this temple,” she answered.

Yuji’s eyes widened. No. No, there was no freaking way.

“This thing?” he pressed in disbelief, “But he— I mean it looks more like a demon than a guardian spirit.”

“That’s kind of the interesting thing!” she explained excitedly, “My homeroom teacher was telling us about it last week. I think the story goes, that in a war between spirits and humans, the peasants this temple served were constantly caught in the crossfire. That is, until a dedicated, benevolent demon came along and vowed to protect the temple even while the rest of the world burnt around it.”

She presented the doll to him, “This little guy is that demon.”

It was all Yuji could do to not roll his eyes at her. Okay. Now he knew it was just a coincidence. Because sure. Benevolent. That’s what Sukuna was.

What a bunch of crap.

Oi. Sukuna suddenly gruffed in his head. I’m plenty fucking benevolent.

Yuji went rigid. Sukuna didn’t talk to him often. And honestly, he preferred it that way. He could nap and plot and flit away the time however he did in his own soul, while Yuji enjoyed the life surrounding his. Rarely did he actually tune in and observe Yuji’s life unless there was a battle or an… opportunity at hand.

So the fact that he seemed to be paying attention now was more than a bit worrying.

What, you gonna tell me that the story is true or something? Yuji snapped right back at his squatter bodymate. That you actually protected a temple?

Could be.

Yuji’s breath hitched.

O-Oh yeah? he demanded, trying to not reveal his wavering confidence. And what was the catch? There’s no way you were some guardian out of the goodness of your heart.

He could practically hear Sukuna smirk inside his head and it unnerved him. Sukuna was privy to all kinds of information about curses and Jujutsu that Yuji learned at school, a lot of which even involved the King of Curses himself. Yet he hardly had anything to comment on then. So why was he so damn talkative about this story?

I protected the shrine… Never said shit about the people in it. And then that horrible, raucous laughter of Sukuna’s echoed in his head.

“Shut up!”

“Huh?”

Yuji snapped back to his girlfriend, who stared back at him with wide, confused eyes. Shit. He said that outloud, didn’t he?

“Sh-Shut up— no way they’ve got fluffy ice!” he tried to save, pointing past her to a nearby stall, “We gotta get some!”

She looked behind her, following his finger, and then laughed, relieved that it was something as simple as that rather than something she might have said, “I swear, all you ever think about is food, Yuji.”

“That’s not true… I think about you a lot.”

…is what Yuji would’ve said if he were smoother, more confident, and convinced that a line like that wouldn’t send her running for the hills. But of course, he wasn’t any of those things. So he just rubbed the back of his head with a sheepish laugh and nodded when she suggested they go get in line for some.

He wanted to just enjoy the night, to forget about curses and Jujutsu and most of all Sukuna — he practically dared the curse to make another fucking remark, to get all of his unwelcome commentary out now while he could. But the inside of his head had gone, thankfully, radio silent. So he made peace with the fact that Sukuna had gotten bored with all of this and had gone back into his own soul to sleep.

But no. Sukuna was not gone, nor bored. Far from it.

He was hungry.

Sukuna watched Yuji’s little girlfriend through his host’s eyes.

He’d excused himself to go use the restroom soon after they’d gotten their fluffy ice to split, and now he’d just stopped to watch her, sitting on a bench near the edge of the temple, the mouth of the forest, and enjoying her frozen treat with childish glee. The lovestruck fool was living in the moment, watching her with a heart full of warmth and just wanting to take it all in.

For Sukuna however, his stare was full of a hunger growing more and more ravenous with every second.

Of course she looked delicious at all times. In her school uniform (girl’s uniforms were one of the few innovations of this era he could fully get behind), in her gym clothes the times she and Yuji went jogging together. Even that little floral sundress number she’d worn on their last date had really gotten his motor going. She was just a gorgeous little thing, and exactly his type.

Sickeningly sweet and salaciously stupid.

But there was something about her right now, dolled up in a snow white yukata, walking under the warm glow of the traditional lanterns, down the path of a temple he once called home — she looked like she could have existed just like this, a thousand years ago. That she could’ve encountered him when he was at the height of his power, looking just like this.

It took everything in him not to utter “Extension” and tear her to pieces in front of every pair of prying eyes right here on this stone path.

But no. He had to control himself.

He had to plan his moves carefully, he couldn’t just cause havoc willy-nilly, not without raising an unignorable alarm for the Jujutsu Sorcerers to put Yuji Itadori and himself down like Old Yeller. No, now was not the time to rape and pillage and have his fun.

It didn’t mean he was happy about it, though.

Somehow, there was something even worse about not being able to have his way in this form then it had been when his soul was fractured for a thousand years. At least before he’d manifested, he was held back by the fact that it was impossible to do anything else — he literally couldn’t have physically let loose even if he wanted to. He was essentially stuck in purgatory.

But now, when he had the full ability to ravage but had to keep himself in check, with only himself and his self-preservation to answer to? God, it practically fucking burned. It wasn’t right. If he didn’t get some kind of outlet soon, he was going to go crazy.

It was like he was a dog, kept chained and locked up within the cage of his own skin. But that’s not what he was. He wasn’t a fucking housepet. He was a hunter, a predator.

And a damned good one at that.

There was a huge difference between other Curses and Sukuna. The sorcerers had decided to define this difference by grades. But Sukuna believed that the real explanation was much less academic, much more simple.

After all, just because a curse was “Special Grade” didn’t mean that it was worth a damn. It could have all the cursed energy in the world, but if it didn’t know how to properly hunt? It’d be lucky to last a century.

They were trophic beings at the end of the day.

Low-level Curses, like flyheads? They were, at best, Primary Consumers. If he were being blunt, most of them were Producers, barely above algae. They tended to draw in more Jujutsu Sorcerers than they were worth. Sitting fucking ducks.

That waste of space from the Juvenile Detention Center? A Secondary Consumer. He could pick off the herbivores that were humans. Injured zebras falling behind the herd like his host and the little girl with the hammer.

And the little patchwork punk? The one that dared to put his pathetic mitts on his soul twice? Sukuna would be generous and call him a Tertiary Consumer. He sure did give that Seven to Three Sorcerer and his host a run for their money.

But Sukuna, himself? Of course, he was an apex predator. He knew how to wait, to watch, to be patient. To wait until his prey was in exactly the right position where victory, making the kill, was guaranteed.

Enter: Yuji’s new little girlfriend. The ingénue.

The prey.

…

Okay, so maybe she was some low-hanging fruit, but it’s not like he could be too choosy. And boy was she ripe for the picking.

Besides, a top of the food chain hunter such as himself knew how to make some fun, a chase out of anything.

Yes, little Yuji Itadori should’ve listened to his teachers. Dating a non-sorcerer, bringing such a tempting piece of meat into his eyeline and waving it around so proudly was a very bad idea.

And Sukuna lived for bad ideas.

“Extension.”

She perked up as Yuji re-approached, “Hey—!” then paused, head cocking as she noticed something… different about him.

“What’s with the…?” she gestured over her face, indicating the black marks now running across his skin.

“They were doing some face-painting at one of the booths,” he answered simply, lowly, “Looks good, right?”

She flushed a bit at the timber of his voice, eyes dropping to the cup of fluffy ice in her hands. Even imitating Itadori, there was a huskiness, a darkness in Sukuna’s voice that couldn’t be masked. And it sent shivers straight up his prey’s lovely spine.

“Y-Yeah… Looks really good.”

He smirked. Trap set.

“Really good, huh?” he purred, sitting on the bench not only next to her, but with his legs pressing hard against hers.

Her cheeks flushed, giggling as he slid his arm behind her shoulders on the bench, and giddy embarrassment set her body afloat. She liked this, liked it a lot. She always wanted Yuji to sweet-talk and touch her like this, more than she really should honestly. But she was way too embarrassed to ever admit that herself. So this extra flirty mood he seemed to be in at the moment was sending her straight to Cloud 9.

“...Uh— Uh-huh. R-Really good.”

She hazarded a look at his face again, the intensity, the uninhibited desire burning like coal in those lazy-lidded eyes sending an all new feeling of excitement through her body. One she’d been denying for a while.

With a squeak, she looked back forward, jutting the cup of fluffy ice over in his general direction, “D-Do you want some more?!”

He barely paid the measly little treat any mind, far more invested in the delicacy so pretty and wrapped up in an obi for him.

“Yeah, why not.”

She turned towards him, eyes focussing on his tight chest rather than his sinful eyes, so that she could pick up the spoon and feed him. But before she could even touch the utensil, he reached past it, towards her, and caught a little drip of sweet syrup at the corner of her mouth with his thumb.

Her breath hitched, loud and embarrassingly. But this only seemed to spur him on. He brushed it slowly along the length of her lower lip, pressing it in ever so slightly when he got to the center, kissing the pad of his thumb to her teeth. He could feel everything about her through this, the way her throat bobbed anxiously, the shuttering breath against his skin, the way her tongue sank forward instinctually to meet him.

She couldn’t help it, the hypnotic lull that it pulled her into. Her eyes started to shutter closed, but in doing so she noticed something.

His nails.

Sukuna clocked this almost simultaneously, whipping his hand back before she completely lost her stupor and bringing the thumb to his own lips, nails hidden from sight. He made a show of licking the residuals of sweetness off of it, eyes boring straight into hers.

“Tastes even better this way,” he purred.

She flushed and turned away quickly and completely, her back to him, beyond embarrassed, “Y-Yuji—!”

“What?”

“That’s so embarrassing,” she squeaked.

“What do you mean?” he husked, leaning in from above her, pressing impossibly closer into her back, “What’s so embarrassing about loving the way you taste?”

Sukuna could feel her cheeks heat up as he slotted his nose into her shoulder, “In fact…”

He pressed his mouth, motionless, into the nape of her neck. He breathed into it, doing everything in his power to get a whisper of a taste of that skin, without devouring her whole.

“I’d love to taste more.”

He ran his hands down her arms, nails catching on every goosebump. They were going slow, teasing, but they weren’t stopping. No, they were not stopping their descent. Not until they got to—

“Y-Yuji,” she gasped out an embarrassed laugh as his hands slipped down to cover her own over the cup, sticky and cold from the fluffy ice dripping forgotten over them, “Come on, there are people around…”

“And?” Sukuna’s fingers weaved with her own squeezing tight, his hips slanting flush against her ass, “If there weren’t people around?”

She tilted her head back, startled by how close his lips were to hers when she did so. Startled, but not scared off. No. Intoxicated. Caught in the center of the spider’s web.

Trapped. Right where he wanted her.

Sukuna’s smirk widened and he caught her lips, all pretense gone. He was going in for the kill.

There was a reason why she was easy prey, and it wasn’t just because she was meek and malleable, easy for Sukuna to overwhelm even without powers.

It was because she wanted this from Yuji, had wanted it for a while, actually. If he didn’t know from all the needing looks and batting lashes she’d sent his way over the last six months — a virgin whore if he’d ever seen one — it was more than obvious now. The way she grinded against him, gasped excitedly as he shoved her against a tree, back arching as he turned the top of her yukata into a belt, exposing her bare chest to his rough, relentless palms.

He was brought back to the other fucks he’d had under this very tree, when he’d been able to dig his claws into the flesh of shrine maidens until he felt bone. Or that village girl whose spine he’d snapped in half as he came.

This wasn’t nearly as physically exhilarating as those times, but there was something oddly even more exciting about it on a sentimental level. Of course, it was his first fuck in over a millennia, and a virgin at that (his fucking favorite), but she was Yuji’s too.

Yuji’s girlfriend, Yuji’s love, Yuji’s prize to be won — and he’d stolen her right under the brat’s nose. The only thing that would make it better would be if Yuji could actually see it right now.

He could let that go for now though, especially considering how pliant and eager she was, the way she held back her yelps and locked down any complaints as they slipped down to the cold, crackly ground, her bare back grinding hard into the bark. He knew that it hurt her, he could smell the blood and feel the way her breath hitched in his mouth, and yet miraculously, she didn’t say a word. She wanted this to happen, she wanted to make him happy. And she was too shy to voice anything that might result in otherwise.

“You ready?” he purred, already shoving his pants down to his knees and giving himself a few preparatory pumps, regardless of her answer.

She gulped, and nodded hurriedly.

As soon as he moved her panties to the side and rubbed the head of his cock against her entrance exploratorily, Sukuna knew she was lying. Her body was clearly not quite there. She was plenty wet, sure, but she was still tense from the nerves, and shallow from the lack of prep.

That was fine though. Actually, it was great. That added ring of resistance? That’s what made virgins and victims the absolute perfect prey, that’s what made them intoxicating.

He couldn’t have held back if he wanted to.

Without any other warning, he slammed his hips forward, fucking her fully.

She cried out with a volume that was clearly not all from joy. She was hurt. And he almost came on the spot at the sound.

“Are you okay?” he asked, just to keep in character. He didn’t care either way.

“Mm—! Mm-hmm!” she nodded frantically, tears clear in her eyes and hesitant to open her mouth, lest she reveal the actual pain she was in.

Oh, a little tough girl, huh? He could fucking fall in love.

Sukuna kept a serious face, but inside he was splitting in two, smiling.

“You sure? Do you want me to stop?” he insisted. It’s not like he would, even if she wanted to. But the idea of her powering through the pain, begging him to keep going even as he broke her? It was just too good to pass up.

“Y-Yes,” she yelped out in such a sweet, strained voice, “P-Please, keep going Yuji!”

He reached forward, running a hand through her hair, that once perfect little updo now frazzled and ruined with leaves and dirt, “I’ll be gentle, okay?”

She sniffled and put on a brave, quivering smile, nodding. He dragged out of her to the tip, slowly, expertly, pulling from her the first little gasp of pleasure.

Then he bottomed out inside her.

She cried out loudly, nails clinging into his back with vicelock strength as he fucked her, truly fucked her. She tried to make those cries sound pleasured, like moans. But she couldn’t hide the screams they truly were. She pulled him closer so that she could try and muffle them into his shoulder.

But that wouldn’t do. No, that would not fucking do.

The hand in her hair tightened, pulling her head back harshly so that she had nowhere to direct her noise but into the night sky as he pounded into her. She bit her lip, trying to keep them at bay.

“Fuck, it feels so good,” he groaned, genuinely, “What about you, baby? Do you feel good?”

She tried to just get away with nodding and whining.

“Tell me baby,” he pressed, “Tell me it feels good.”

“I-It… It feels good!” she finally cried out, desperate for him to stop, “Y-Yuji, it feels so good!”

He pressed his lips into her cheek, almost cumming on the spot as the streams of tears down her skin touched his tongue.

“I love you so much,” he growled shamelessly.

She smiled a face-splitting smile, eyes wide and puffy, and body completely open and raw, as she tried to love away the pain.

“M-Me too!” she almost gagged, “I love you too!!”

In this life, the previous, or even the next, Sukuna was sure he’d never cum as hard as he did when he saw that face.

Yuji stared down at her in absolute horror. What had he done? No, what had he done?!

His girlfriend, that pure, perfect girl, the one true light of his life, was laid out beneath him, a complete mess. Covered in dirt, hickeys, and a sheen of her own sweat and tears.

Raped.

Her bare chest rose and fell heavily (he could be thankful for that at least), and her cheek rested against the twisting roots of the tree they were under as she tried to catch her breath.

No.

No, no, no, no, no—

Her eyes blinked open as she felt a splash against her flesh, pulling her from her post-sex daze. She turned to look up at Yuji, instantly shocked to see him hunched over her and sobbing uncontrollably.

“Yuji?” she gasped, “Yuji what’s wrong?”

“I… I-I just—” he choked, trying desperately not to throw up. His fingers ran shakily across the divots in her skin, the scratches and bitemarks, “Are you o-okay?”

She followed his stroking hands to her marred shoulders and whipped back to him with a gasp.

“Ohhh, sweetie no— don’t worry about those! I’m fine!”

“A-Are you sure?” he rasped.

“Of course!” she pulled him down into a tight embrace, “I loved it, Yuji.”

Those words stabbed him harder and hotter than anything else she could’ve said. Made it all so much worse.

“I absolutely loved it.”

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sc0tters · 9 months

Text

Not Gone For Long | Quinn Hughes

summary: you broke up with Quinn two weeks ago, but what happens when you two run into each other at a bar?

request: yes/no

warnings: none.

word count: 1.63K

authors note: I have had this idea in my head for literal hours icl but since I came up with it I’ve been dying to get it written. This is also my first attempt at writing an imagine for an NHL player, so I hope you like it!

Never go to bed angry with each other.

That was the first rule that you and Quinn made when you got together and neither one ever believed that if it was broken it would soon bring the end of the relationship, but it did.

The two of you had spent two months fighting before you finally mustered up the courage to pull the plug on the relationship when he was on a two week road trip with the team.

And with that three years of a relationship were sent down the drain.

You never thought that leaving him would be easy. You knew that it would be tough on your heart as he was everywhere you looked, on billboards, the TVs at bars, even on the insides of your eyelids when you attempted to sleep.

Your best friends were your total support system during the last two months as they made sure that you never had more than a few seconds to think about the boy that you loved obviously not counting your time in your bedroom because that’s where he seemed to attack your mind.

The apartment you once dreamed of before Quinn was now the place you called home. It was a one bed place but it was all you needed as you settled back into the mundane life.

Unbeknownst to you Quinn had been a total wreck from the moment he walked back into the apartment to see it in a shell of its former self. If it wasn’t for his teammates he would have knocked on every door in Vancouver until he found you, but when the boys reminded him that you had left when he was gone for a reason it made him want to stay home instead.

Quinn wanted to be mad at you for leaving in the way that you did yet the only thing that replayed through his mind was how the last thing he said to you was “see you soon,” no kiss, not even a hug, he just walked out of the apartment. Leaving you by yourself for the next two weeks.

The moment Ellen learnt about the break up she went was on the next flight over on a mission to comfort her son. That night he cried so hard that his lungs ached and his throat burned.

It didn’t help that the Canucks had been through another subpar season, but his upset state wasn’t helping that as he hadn’t scored since you left. Sometimes he wondered if you still watched his games, each time that he’d skate onto the ice he’d search for your face in the crowd and each time he was left empty handed.

Somehow despite all this, your relationship didn’t actually end on bad terms, you two still loved each other and had truly learnt that absence really does make the heart grow fonder.

The fight that broke the camels back though now felt minuscule, if he didn’t want to come with you on your business trip to Paris you didn’t really care. You’d settle for those two weeks without him rather than the last two months, every day of the week.

Now it was present day and your friends managed to convince you to join them on a night out. It was going to be your first as a single woman. You had even managed to get a smile onto your face, not a fake forced smile but instead a real one.

Yet it felt like a balloon full of water burst above your head as you saw him.

Quinn had been dragged to the same bar by his teammates as they celebrated the fact that the season was over.

Your friend saw that you tensed up and as she followed your line of sight she was quick to apologise “we can go somewhere else if you would like?” She proposed not wanting you to have a bad night.

But as there were five of you in the group this was a moment you didn’t want to be selfish in “this bar is big enough for the two of us.” Your voice was soft as you shook your head not letting your eyes leave the boy as you stared more so in shock.

He looked like he had lost weight, hadn’t shaved so his facial hair was now growing out of control, the curls that you loved but he hated were now proudly sat on his head.

Quinn wished that he had seen his hairdresser though the second he saw you. He actually heard your best friends laugh first, it was funny how the sound irritated him.

When he thought he was dreaming or that his sleep deprived mind was playing tricks on him, he spun his head around locking eyes with you.

His cold beer glass masked the sweatiness of his hands as he chugged the last of the bland liquid before he got up “anyone else need a refill?” He watched as you walked off heading in the direction of the bar.

It was the perfect time to talk to you, yes he knew that it was selfish but part of him just hoped that you were as caught up by the breakup as he was.

So he made his way over to the bar, making sure to avoid the drunken men that walked into his path as he was desperate to never lose sight of your little green dress that he loved so much on you.

You thought he never noticed that when the told you he liked that dress on your first date you went out and bought it in seven other colours. But he did, Quinn noticed everything yet that original dress still remained his favourite.

The familiar sound of your acrylics tapping on the table sent shivers down his spine “hey,” his voice came out like a croak causing your eyes to go wide.

You stared at him through the corner of your eye knowing that if you faced him, it would have been over for you “hi.”

If you two hadn’t broken up his fingers would have been on your jaw forcing you to look at him “can you look at me?” He asked feeling the tears begin to well at his eyes “please?” The beg was enough to make your hearty break all over again.

You looked at him not caring that you makeup was now very much ruined as tears ran down your cheeks “I’m sorry,” you blurted out not knowing what else to say.

But it was also true, you did feel sorry about breaking up with him. You wished that you’d handled things better. Yes this was the best way to protect your heart but besides for that it was the worst possible option for every other thing.

Just like old times Quinn didn’t hesitate to comfort the girl as he wrapped his arms around her pulling her into a hug “I know,” he placed a kiss on your head ignoring how your tears were soaking his shirt.

The coldness of those tears hit him like a dose of reality, you left because the relationship had grown cold.

This was the first time he had hugged you since January, it was now April.

He never meant to stop putting in effort but one day it sort of started and he didn’t know how to stop it. And he was so stressed about hockey that he let the fights you two had fall into the back of his mind.

Whilst he had spent the last two months thinking you were the bad guy, he realised that it had been his fault all along.

That was almost the problem with the whole thing, you each blamed yourselves for putting the knife into the relationship.

Quinn swore that he had been doing it over time and you were just the one to give it the final push.

You finally got your breathing under control causing you to look up at him as your chin rested against the his chest “why are you here?” You asked not trying to be rude but you swore that if you were in his shoes even you wouldn’t want anything to do with yourself.

He let out a soft laugh as he dragged his thumb against your cheek “missed you,” he confessed as he watch the pad of his finger clean in the smudge of your mascara.

Hearing that he must have also had a rough time made you feel sick to your stomach “thought you would have hated me.” You mumbled still thinking that this was all a dream.

Quinn would have been lying if he said that your words didn’t break his heart “could never hate you.” He softly smiled trying to tell you that he meant every word.

As much as he enjoyed being with his friends he wanted to leave “come with me?” He asked holding his hand out for you to grab.

The way his hand interlocked with yours told you that this wasn’t a dream “we should talk somewhere a bit more private.” As much as you wanted to say that you could go back to his apartment and be fine, you knew that things needed to change.

And if they didn’t then you would be having to move on forever.

The stars shone down on Vancouver as you two snuck out of the bar, despite the fact that both friends groups watched the interaction neither decided to stop it.

Sitting in his car that parked at a lookout spot looking over the city as you two ate food from your favourite takeaway restaurant you learnt one thing:

You weren’t letting him go as easy as you did this time.

#quinn hughes #quinn hughes imagine #hockey imagine #oneshots #imagines #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes x y/n #hockey imagines #nhl oneshot #nhl imagine

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lilac-5ky · 11 months

Text

Roommates from Hell, pt.1 (Toji x Fem!Reader)

Chapter 1: Stolen Fries taste best

(pic from loving yamada at lvl999, adorable manga, recommend)

Chapter 2 | Story Masterlist | Masterlist

Plot: Out of all the women that come and go in Toji's life, you're the only one he calls his friend. But when he suddenly forces his way into your apartment, the feelings you've kept from him are put to the test.

Setting: Pre Hidden Inventory Arc. Toji and reader are both in their late twenties, no Megumi in picture... yet :p

Themes: Cohabitation, Mutual Pining, Friends to Lovers

Warning: Slight sexual content minus the actual smut.

A/N at the bottom

“You’re late. Again.”

The small silver bell at the top of the glass door notified you of a man’s arrival, his heavy steps refusing to wipe themselves upon entry, spreading mud all over the now-blotted checkered tiles of the dimly lit diner. You’d been expecting the owner of those shoes for the past six hours, his untimely arrival coming as a bitter aftertaste to an afternoon full of childish joy and mayhem— popped balloons, colorful confetti, and half-eaten pieces of cakes swept into one big pile at the room’s southernmost corner by yours truly.

“I never said I was coming,” the voice retorted, its defiant sound overshadowed by the gruesome screech of a metallic chair. “Not interested in celebrating some brat’s b-day, ‘specially if it ain’t mine.”

“How many helpless children must have spent their birthdays without their no-good father, I wonder,” you wiped your hands against your cherry-red apron, pushing the broom back into place. “If your goal is to repopulate Japan, I’m certain you’ll succeed.”

Hefty fingers mindlessly combed through a head of obsidian black, little spikes forming and then settling back down. “None, as far as I’m concerned,” sarcasm dripped from his tongue.

“Well, I find that hard to believe,” you mumbled under your breath, circling through the room to ensure everything was dealt with: leftovers in the fridge, gift wrappings in the bin, and the large aforementioned pile of garbage waiting to be scooped up. “You’ve known Kenzo since birth. Even if this ain’t your thing, the least you could’ve done was make an appearance. He kept asking about his favorite uncle all night long.”

“Except I’m not his uncle. Don’t mix me in with your sister’s family, I ride solo.”

Sigh.

“My sister’s family might as well be your family, Toji. You know how much Hinata and her kids adore you.”

“Good for them, I suppose.”

Another sigh.

“Can you at least tell me what was so important for you to not even pick the goddamn phone up?”

As if the device had grown sentient, a generic tune began tooting from the back pocket of his sweatpants, eradicating your final hope that it’d simply run out of battery.

Without budging from his seat, Toji twisted an arm around his back to pull his flip-phone out, the silver-tinted lid slamming shut as soon as he’d peered at the caller’s number, his next immediate move being to drown the sound in a glass of leftover Coke, fizzy bubbles playing the device’s final requiem.

You didn’t need to ask to know it was a woman, and he didn’t need to answer that she, whatever the name of his latest conquest was, happened to also be the reason for his being unfashionably late.

It was always like that. He was always like that. He went out with one girl after the other; from women of extreme beauty and poise to mindless bimbos who couldn’t tell tea leaves and coffee beans apart. He’d spend some cash to butter them up with expensive meals at overpriced restaurants, or VIP entrance at the hottest club, or even pay for the name tag on their designer clothes, but come next morning, he was either caught stealing straight out of their pockets or checking whether the tag was still attached to the dress for him to return it to the store—at which point, the vast majority gave up, except for those few poor souls who earnestly believed they could fix him, though they never would.

If there were two things in this world that remained unfaltering and resolute throughout the eons, then that was the earth’s orbiting the sun, and Zen’in Toji’s being the bastard of a man you knew and loved— special intonation of that last part.

It was quite the oxymoron. To know him as an irredeemable scumbag with no intention of changing, and to love him for all he was; a sentence as contradictory and controversial as the man before you. What was there to love? He never gave two shits about the people around him dying, and if he could encourage or partake in their deaths then he certainly would. He gambled every cent of cash in his hands away, and his every attachment ended with the disposal of his used-up condom. He was vulgar, cynical, and brass, and he possessed a great charisma of making people dislike him at first glance. His only saving grace was his good looks and even those he managed to scrape on a daily basis.

So, really, what was there to love about a man whose place fitted best among the pile of garbage in the corner? What was the point in all that?

He never answered your question, and when you realized he wasn’t planning to, you dragged a second chair to his side, propping your elbows first and then your chin over the vinyl backrest, feet landing at each side. You took in his expression— sour and undeniably agitated, with a frown tugging at the scarred corner of his lower lip, and a glare too icy to be meant for the wall of American-styled neon billboards he mercilessly studied. Something definitely bothered him, and as a huff stiffened his chin, the reason became evident enough for you to point at it.

“Woman or work?” you gestured at the blood that dribbled below his ear and down his neck.

He followed your forefinger with his eyes, thumb scrubbing where the gush began. He seemed oblivious to his injury, though it wasn’t as if his becoming aware changed a thing.

“So it is a woman,” you gladly seized the chance to rub salt into his wound, drawing a frustrated grumble from him.“What did you do this time? Stole her car and crashed it into a tree? Blew all her savings on cockfight betting?”

“Horse races,” he had the nerve to correct.

“Or… did you by any chance bring an uncalled ménage à trois to her bed?”

“What kind of man you take me for?” Toji protested.

“A very, very, veeeery bad man,” you smirked, and he returned it. You knew him like the back of your hand. There was no need to pretend otherwise after well over a decade’s worth of friendship.

“If a very bad man is what I am, then why’d ya let me in?” he asked. “A young unprotected woman all by herself in the middle of the night letting such scum in never ends well. Thought you were smarter than this.”

“If I was smarter, then I wouldn’t be calling you my friend, would I?”

His grimace turned into a full-blown devilish grin, the kind that secretly had your heart buzzing against the frail set of bones of your chest. He always looked so dazzling when he smiled, that sometimes you couldn’t find fault in those women wanting to believe in his pretty lies, because you, too, wanted to. You hoped that whatever the price for those smiles was, you would one day be able to afford it and gain ownership of his heart, no matter how wretched or blackened it was.

“You are a real idiot to mix it up with me,” he conceded. “Though, you are a greater idiot for letting that term define us. I bet your nights serving meals at some kiddie place get rather lonely. But I could help. I could make you feel really good, Y/N. So good that you’d risk some prick getting in, lest he is me.”

His tongue poked out his mouth, giving his bottom lip a brief lick while he peered at you through half-lidded eyes. He had this way of turning things sexual in the blink of an eye, selling himself so well that your refusal to buy seemed commendable— despite the unmistakable affection you held for his face. Little did he know how much you longed to push that chair to the side and rip his cocky expression along his black-sleeved shirt off his body, making it so that neither of you had a place to hide from the other.

Now, that’d feel good.

“My nights are fine as they are, thank you very much,” you countered your instincts much to his disappointment. “And if I ever needed myself a helping hand, know that you’d be the last I’d call!” Not as if you’d pick up, anyway, you mentally added.

His gust of interest fizzled out as soon as it surged, your rejection forcing him to rock back and forth between the chair’s legs. He wasn’t interested in continuing this. It was enough for him to take in the dusty pink shading of your ears and smile to himself, knowing you were still the kind of woman affected by his charms. Yes, that certainly was enough, for now.

“I’ll clean you up,” you declared, getting off your spot in haste and strolling through the bar in search of a clean towel.

Once you found it, you let it soak under the faucet and brought it back to him, rubbing against his skin regardless of his petty attempt at gritting his teeth. You placed one hand on his shoulder and another at his jaw, pushing them apart to no avail. Every muscle in his body was stronger than your entire bodily force combined, and he was awfully willing to flex that difference between you, just as he was at letting you straddle his hips and climb all over his body like some sort of feral monkey in heat.

A string of profanities that ranged from “bastard” to “shit-eating-asshole-shithead” poured out your mouth while Toji smirked, and smiled, and grinned, and didn’t even try to stop you from knocking the two of you onto the ground, palms barely managing to stable your head over his face. Your pleated skirt had risen, or rather flipped, over your panties, revealing the strawberry pattern panties you were wearing to his greedy hands as they hiked up your flesh without an ounce of shame.

“Wh-What are you doing?!”

“What do you think I’m doing?” he cooed, burying his calloused fingers under the elastic waistband of your underwear.

You felt him trace the inward of your thighs in languid strokes, the fabric stretching the further his hand dipped— closer, and closer to your now-pulsing core, but never so close as to make actual contact. His hot breath tingled your lips, smelling of nothing in particular, but a sweaty tang of a woman’s deodorant that still lingered in his clothes. Had he fucked her before making it here, you wondered, heart tightening at the thought.

Your legs wiggled shut, unable to fully repel his hand, and for a brief moment, you considered letting him go through with this— whatever this was. Even if you came to be another conquest won, you didn’t care. All you needed was for him to hush all logic from your brain, and fuck you senselessly against the checkered tile floor of the “kiddie food place” you served meals at.

“Toji…” you begged, uncertain what you were begging him for until you felt the warmth in your thighs subside.

“Makin’ sure to preserve your maiden’s dignity,” he said as he fixed your skirt in place. “Wouldn’t want some perv catching sight of your cute little ass, would we?”

His condescending tone made you want to throw a slap across his face and then yours; for thinking that maybe this wasn’t a mistake, that you could really move past the pretense of friendship and aim at what you really sought. But he’d been right once before. You were stupid, stupider than all those girls combined, considering you knew and still wouldn’t mind being dragged down with him one bit.

“Fucking asshole,” you blurted as you pushed yourself off him, dumping the cloth on his smug face.

Your lip quivered as you stepped onto your feet, unable to quite shake the feeling of incompletion from your core, walls pathetically clenching around nothingness. You refused to look at him, lest you caved in a second time, and thus you paced around the booths, stopping before the one window whose blinds didn’t block the magnificent parking lot view. Only a black SUV was left— most likely his newest rental.

Following a beep, you watched the lights flicker white, his reflection in the window lifting the chair back up. You crossed your arms over your chest and waited, your impatience and frustration churning into a dangerous mix within your guts, as the asshole whose name wasn’t worth saying moved past you and walked straight to the door, not a single word or goodbye said.

“What about your phone?” you asked, at last paying him a look of spite.

“I’ll text ya my new number.”

“We both know you won’t.”

He glanced over his shoulder and showed you his pearly white canines, his expression not polished enough to be called a smile. You rolled your eyes in the opposite direction, spotting his old device blinking a variety of different lights, refusing to die just like its bastard of an owner.

“What should I do with this?”

“How the hell should I know?” Toji shrugged. “Get rid of it, or toss it in some burger. I’m sure no one will be able to tell the difference. Later,” the bell chimed as the door collided with the frame, chiming a second time as his head popped in a moment later. “Loved the raspberries.”

“They were strawberries, you scatterbrained swine,” you cursed, but he’d heard none of it. The car was gone, and so was he, and it was for the best that he didn’t get to witness the strawberry-colored shadow that loomed over both your cheeks.

Fanning some of that heat away, you returned to the table, surprised to find a white envelope with the name Kenzo hastily written on the front. Cash. Lots of cash. Enough cash to keep a low-end apartment afloat for at least a couple of months. An excuse and simultaneously the answer to all your previous questions.

“You fucking bastard,” you hummed, the term switching to one of utter endearment.

When the first instance of a wintry breeze came charging at the semi-exposed features of your face—a scarf’s fluff tucked right below your nose— you knew that walking all the way to the location where the unknown ID claiming to be Zen’in Toji ordered you to meet up was probably a bad idea.

For starters, you’d turn into an icicle long before making it back to your workplace. Not to mention you had no foolproof way of guaranteeing the person you were about to meet wasn’t some random impersonating psychopath. But when you finally spotted the yellow curvy “M” upon the rectangular red sign that spelled the fast food chain’s name, you narrowed down the psychopaths to that one cheapskate you happened to know.

Walking into the nearly vacant dining area —only the first two booths near the door occupying a family of four each— you detected him almost immediately. He was the only one seated in his wing. Head slightly tilted to look past the window, golden highlights showering the curve of a nose as it arched into thin eyebrows, calm eyes glinting with subtle emerald, and fingers that absentmindedly tapped away onto one of the two paper-covered trays. He had the decency to wait for you before getting into his food, though that didn’t stop him from munching on the occasional fry.

You tugged the handbag off your shoulder and slowly approached him, hesitating to enter his field of view, if just for a moment. He seemed so peaceful and serene, that if you had the guts, you’d snap a picture of him right then and there and make it into your phone’s wallpaper. But you didn’t. You’d never be able to explain it to him in a non-humiliating way, should he catch you in the act, and so, you shook the notion off and marched in his direction, his eyes lighting up in recognition.

“What’s the point of calling me out here for lunch if we are gonna have burgers?” you dropped your bag at the far end of the table. “Why not eat at our place?”

“I like the fries here better,” he bit onto one as if to affirm his claim, licking the salty essence off his fingers. “You should be glad I got you some, too,” he nodded toward the closed dome-shaped box that lay in front of you. “Nuggets over burgers, right? Didn’t know what toy ya wanted though. Cashier girl told me bunnies are quite popular with girls your age, so I went with that.”

Ignoring, or rather postponing your answer to his outrageous suggestion, you peered through the contents of your meal’s box, spotting the wrapped-in-plastic purple-colored bunny key chain right at the bottom between the small portion of deluxe potatoes and even smaller portion of chicken nuggets that still steamed hot air. You were surprised he remembered everything about your order, down to your preference for milkshake over other beverages, and perhaps you would have shown your gratitude if it wasn’t for that last comment of his gnawing at your pride.

“How old did you tell the cashier I was, again?” you gritted, trying to suppress the toy’s cuteness within your fist.

“Didn’t. Just said it’s for some kid I know. Probably thought it was for my daughter or something.”

A pair of googly eyes popped out from their sockets, the bunny’s head in serious danger of coming right off.

“Stop acting like an old man,” you muttered in embarrassment. “A nine-month head start in life doesn’t make you old enough to be my father.”

“Still older than you, kid,” said Toji, his fingers latching onto his wrapped-up burger. “Now eat up. Didn’t pay ya lunch for it to go cold.”

Annoyed by his remarks, but oh-so terribly starved, you decided to let things slide, the two of you lunching in a period of temporal truce. He went through his burger in big bites, clearing it out before you even finished your portion of nuggets. You mildly wondered why he’d held off if he was this hungry, but didn’t press on the reason behind his invitation until after his tray was half-emptied.

“So… why’d you wanna meet up? Got something to tell me?”

“Mhm, I actually do. How would you like us to be room—Nah, that doesn’t sound too right,” Toji shook his head off, dusting the excess salt off his fingers. “I decided I’m moving in with you.”

“You, what?!?” You shrieked, eyes wide with shock, resembling those of your newly acquired key chain.

“What I just said. I’m moving in,” he repeated as if you hadn’t heard him the first time around. “Got everything right here. I’ll pop by later so you can show me my room.”

You glanced down at what he tapped as “here”, spotting a large black duffel bag that rested on his feet. He wasn’t joking, you panicked. He was being 100% serious about this. Directing your milkshake to your mouth, you took a nervous sip, nearly choking on the plastic straw between your teeth, while Toji kept staring at you, awaiting no answer in particular. After all, he wasn’t asking. He was proclaiming.

“Why would you want that?” you asked once you regained the ability to think rationally. “Weren’t you the one who said you ride solo?”

“Numerous reasons,” he stated, drawing his forefinger forth as if to recount. “For starters, rental prices going up, gas too. Inflation in the market and all that crap. Your place is also closer to work, and” he leaned closer, “wasn’t your neighborhood the one on the news recently? You know, those serial break-and-enter cases? As far as I’m aware, the culprit’s still running loose, could be a cursed spirit or something. You can’t see ‘em, but I can. I’ll keep ya safe. Wouldn’t you want that? Sounds like a fair deal to me, at least.”

The repetitive pattern of a catchy pop song blasting from the speakers served as a backdrop to your thoughts, eyes flickering between the table and his face. He wasn’t exactly wrong about what he said. The girl next door was the robber’s last victim, and from what you’d gathered, it seemed like the ones targeted were exclusively single women in their twenties. Curse or not, that was the intruder’s type, and you just so happened to tick both of those boxes.

From a standpoint of reason, his suggestion sounded fair alright, but this was Toji we were talking about. The man whose name was your first thought in the morning and the final afterthought in the night. The man you were coincidentally in love with.

Living with him would entail being around him a lot more than you could handle. Waking and sleeping and eating in the same house as him, spending your days off together, bickering about bills, take-out, and the TV remote’s ownership, doing things that only couples got to do, and of course, sharing a bathroom, which on its own meant seeing him parade through the cramped little space of your apartment in nothing but a soggy towel, hair slick and teeth beaming as he’d be asking if you’d like to join him in the shower—

You hit the break on these thoughts and pressed your forehead flat against both palms, feeling the heat exuding through your fingers. You were only able to keep this relationship platonic because of the distance he put between you. If he were to suddenly close it, what would come of you? How on earth would you be able to hold back?

“Don’t you want me?”

“Huh?” you bit at the straw again, snapping it in half.

“I said, you hate the idea of living with me that much?”

Toji certainly didn’t mince his words, but the way he was looking at you, brows furrowing and lips quivering into a frown despite the edge in his tone, almost made it seem as if hearing your rejection out loud would hurt him, and because of that, you had no choice, but to shake your head in denial. You wanted this. More than words could express, you wanted to be with him like that, even if you refrained from disclosing that truth.

You wanted him.

“What about your girlfriends? Wouldn’t they be against you living with some woman?”

“Nah, I’m done with that. Done with all of ‘em.”

“But my apartment is too small. I don’t think it’d suit you—”

“I’ll manage,” he cut you off.

“I don’t even have a second bed-”

“We can always share,” he smirked, letting out a light-hearted chuckle as he watched color paint your cheeks. “Couch is fine, too. So, whaddya say, roomie?”

“…Fine,” you conceded, very well knowing you’d come to regret this decision. “But we need to set some ground rules! No trashing the apartment, no throwing your ‘work tools’ all over the place, no smoking, no drinking, no loud music, and no bringing in random women. No starting fights either! You’ll help around and pay half of what’s needed, so no gambling your money away. Those are my terms.”

“You drive a hard bargain, roomie,” Toji said, balancing his chin atop his elbow. “Fine by me. Told you I’m done with half those things anyway, and I don’t mind helping you with anything. I mean that.”

But I could help. I could make you feel really good, Y/N.

His words from that night still lingered in your mind like an unfulfilled promise, and when he phrased it like that, you couldn’t help but be reminded of how good his hands felt that night, creeping all over your skin as if he owned it— as if he owned you.

“G-good!” you said, picking up a fry off his tray and tossing it in your mouth, lest you said something stupid.

“No one taught you stealing other people’s food is rude?” Toji shot you a glare unequal to your crime.

“It’s not stealing if you are done with it!” you protested. “You haven’t touched your fries in over ten minutes now.”

His tongue clicked against his mouth’s roof, producing a series of “tsk” sounds while he shook his head in disapproval. “Didn’t take ya for such a brat, Y/N. Disrespecting me in my face right after we came to an agreement? That’s some bad business ethics.”

You rolled your eyes at his comment, barely keeping yourself from groaning. “I’m so terribly sorry, sir. I shouldn’t have stolen your esteemed fries, sir. Won’t ever happen again, sir. Please allow me to express my profound remorse, sir.”

Although Toji knew you only addressed him as such to get on his nerves, he was still pleased enough to grace with you an unsuspecting smile, seconds before you shoved a ketchup-covered potato against his mouth, smudging the left corner of his lips in a way akin to that of his right corner scar. He blinked, clouds of fury gathering in the bleakness of his eyes and cheeks puffing up, painting the most adorable expression you’d ever seen him wear.

“So cute,” you gushed, unable to suppress a hearty laughter that agitated him even more, red blooming across his cheeks— most likely by the lack of oxygen, you interpreted.

“Fucking brat,” he hissed, dipping the last of his fries in ketchup and then stuffing your mouth with it before you could even react. “I’ll show ya how it’s done!” he declared, your lips puckering against his fingers, condiment spreading all over like lipstick. His other hand forced your head in place, stilling your chin for him to work on his masterpiece, making a much bigger mess out of you than you had made of him.

“Hmphmmph!” you hummed while Toji laughed, a deep sound that reverberated straight from his guts, his eyes glinting along with his teeth in sheer joy that convinced you to give up so as to not spoil his fun. It was rare to see him genuinely happy.

“That should teach ya to behave,” he spat, smugness in every aspect of his features as he pressed his thumb onto his mouth, cleaning the ketchup off with a lick. “But you did address me properly, so you’ve earned the right to choose. Napkin or my lips? Which one?”

Stupefied as you were, you didn’t understand the full context of his question until you felt the sudden warmth of his mouth flutter over your skin, the tip of his tongue sloppily gathering the leftover ketchup off your right cheek. Your jaw popped open, a small gasp escaping as a result of his action.

“Too slow,” Toji whispered, hooded green eyes peering right into yours. “I’ll ask again. Napkin or my lips? What’s it gonna be, doll?”

“N-n-n-napkin!” you must have stuttered at least a thousand times before forming a comprehensible answer. He was so close that if he tilted his head any closer your lips were sure to touch. “P-please get me a napkin.”

“Please?” he chuckled, acting as if was really going to kiss you and then pulling away. “Be right back.”

Even after Toji let go, you could still feel the weight of his thumb holding you down, your eyes zeroing in on his black sweater as he set off for the other side of the room where the napkin and condiments stand was located. You heard a few whispers coming from beside your table, catching three pairs of eyes shooting daggers right at your back.

“Don’t they have a home?” a woman’s voice echoed first.

“Kids these days…” a man added.

“Honey, don’t look at their sinfulness, it’s the devil’s work.” A second woman concluded.

You were on the verge of experiencing a cardiac arrest, and you were pretty darn sure you would have if Toji hadn’t returned with the napkins in time, his hand snatched by yours as you forcefully dragged him out of the place, spelling frantic apologies at whoever was listening.

Once you’d made it outside, you sighed in relief, winter’s viciousness coming as a much-needed slap across your face. You took in a few breaths, letting go of his hand and padding a few steps away from the store’s windows, afraid you were still the focus of their attention. Toji followed, one hand stuffed inside his jeans pocket, while the other held the duffel bag over his shoulder in a lazy manner.

“Can you give me a lift to work?” you managed to ask, dodging his stare even as he stepped to the front.

“I would, but I can’t. Gave the car away.”

“You did what?”

Nothing about your reaction was funny in any shape or form, but he seemed amused enough to break into a soft chuckle, his eyes, too, softening ever so slightly.

“Planning to walk around town like a bloodsucker?” he asked, bringing a napkin to wipe your lips with greater care than you’d think. “How dirty,” he cooed, gently tapping at the center. “Next time, I won’t ask for permission to kiss you, roomie. Let’s go.”

“W-Where?” your voice came out so frail that you doubted he’d heard your question, his bag bouncing over his taut body with every step he took outside the parking lot.

“You asked for a ride, didn’t ya? Come.”

A/N: Launching a new series because I have so many feelings bottled up that I'm in danger of farting hearts and rainbows and shit. Decided to take the time off and write this fic for myself cause I needed it, but then I thought why not share it with the world? First time writing for Jujutsu Kaisen and Toji in particular, so hopefully it's received well!

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marlynnofmany · 5 months

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A Mystery Easily Solved

I’ve got to say, one of the best things about working on a courier spaceship is the downtime. Sure, some deliveries need constant monitoring, and some days we all need to multitask on other moneymaking ventures to make ends meet. But other times we’re doing fine moneywise, and there’s a nice long span of time until we reach our destination.

Today I was spending that time reading in the crew lounge, lying sideways on the couch so I didn’t fall through the tail gap, with Telly the ship’s cat purring against me.

Originally she was The Human’s Animal, restricted to my quarters, but that didn’t last long. Her adorable nature and pestcatching abilities won over everybody, even those of the crew who had exoskeletons that couldn’t properly appreciate how soft her fur was.

I was stroking that mismatched fur with one hand and holding up my reading tablet with the other when Mur walked quietly through.

(I say walk, though really there should be a different word entirely for movement that involves that many tentacles slapping against the floor.)

Anyways, I didn’t really pay attention. I was busy reading, and the lounge was open to anyone. Apparently the rest of the crew had other things to do, which was really their loss.

I didn’t notice when he walked by the first time, but when he came back, he was moving weirdly slowly. I peered around the tablet.

Is he trying to sneak up on somebody out in the hall? I wondered. He wasn’t looking at me, and the expression on his blue-black squid face was one of frowning concentration. I didn’t interrupt.

He moved into the hall, and did indeed have a conversation with someone there, but it was a hushed one that made me even more curious. I lowered the tablet as Mur came back in the company of Paint.

She also looked serious — a mottled orange lizardy person who was colored like the Painted Sunset she was named for, and who was rarely quiet or still. She seemed to be looking for something.

“What’s up?” I whispered. Telly flicked an ear, but only settled in deeper, still purring in a way that said she wasn’t going to give up her comfy spot any time soon. I kept stroking her while I set the tablet on the end table.

“There’s a mystery sound,” Paint whispered back. “Mur said it sounded like an engine problem.”

“We shouldn’t be able to hear any engines in this room, at least not that loud,” Mur said. “Did somebody leave a bit of machinery under a table?”

He seemed honestly baffled, and I hid a smile as it dawned on me what they might be hearing. “Which direction is it coming from?” I asked. “Is it over here?”

They did some careful listening and moved closer.

Mur climbed up on a chair. “Are you doing it??”

I shook my head, grinning and still petting the cat. “No, but you’re close.”

Paint moved in with her head turned sideways for listening. “Oh!”

“Oh what?” Mur demanded.

I shifted position just enough to disturb Telly, who stopped purring and raised her head with a meow of objection.

Paint laughed. “It’s the cat!”

Mur pressed tentacles against his own face. “I can’t believe I forgot they make engine noises.”

“They do,” I said with immense satisfaction, petting Telly again. “And I believe that serves you right for the tentacle-pop noise I couldn’t figure out awhile ago.”

He sighed like a deflating balloon. “Yeah okay, that’s fair.”

“How does she do that?” Paint asked, joining me in running a hand across Telly’s fur. “Oh, she’s so warm!”

Paint’s people are called Heatseekers for a reason. I told her, “She might sit on your lap if you’re still.”

Paint was of course delighted by this idea. Mur threw several tentacles in the air and declared he was off to do something productive with his time.

“Have fun!” I said. “We’ll be here petting the engine noises.”

He grumbled as he left. Telly made more sleepy meows when she was moved from one spot to another, but with two pairs of hands giving her ear scritches and attention, she settled down again.

Her purrs were loud, and Paint’s grin was full of joy.

~~~

The ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book. More to come! And I am currently drafting a sequel!

#my writing #The Token Human #humans are weird #haso #hfy #eiad #humans are space orcs #cats #the sequel book is going well btw #just wrote a long conversation about food #and those are always fun in a multispecies setting

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whatifyoulivelikethat · 1 year

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aftermath, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: The aftermath of the break-up between you and Jeon Jungkook, navigating the various stages and finding out that easy isn't living.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; it's what you think it is but also not; mentions of alcohol consumption; anger turning into angst; slow burn; yes, there are a few Taylor Swift references; smut (fem reader, heavy making out, breathplay, hair pulling, slight D/s dynamic, handjob, nipple play, edging, penetrative sex); non-idol!AU - ex!JK x ex!reader, switches between Jungkook’s POV and yours, ft mystery man (less mysterious if you Google his name lol), yes, he was chosen for story reasons

“Stop staring at her.”

Maybe if he stared long enough, he would burn holes into the back of your skull and you would finally fuckin’ notice he was right here.

Maybe.

“Dude. You’re being creepy.”

You were smiling at your phone screen. Why the fuck were you smiling? What was there to be smiling about? Furthermore, what did you need to look so good for? Oversized black bomber jacket with balloon sleeves and an overpowering ruffle at the shoulders. Short slinky dress with red-orange flames screen-printed all over. Black thigh-high heeled boots. Fuck, who the hell were you trying to impress? The person texting you, hah? Why did your hair look so effortlessly in place and why was your makeup so sultry with that red stain on your lips and smoked-out liner? Hm?!

Jeon Jungkook chewed on the left side of his lip and watched you walk up to the service counter, ordering a…

“Lemon cake and hot green tea. No sugar in the tea.”

“Bro, just get up and talk to her.”

Jungkook felt knuckles whack the back of his head and turned around to the annoyed face of Park Jimin, who was nursing an iced coffee and glaring at him. Oh. Right. He was supposed to be catching up at with his friend, not going all National Geographic at his ex-girlfriend.

But what were you so happy for?

“Didn’t you break up with her? What’s your problem?” Jimin questioned, confused.

His teeth involuntarily slid back and ground bone-to-bone, eyes narrowing at the questions. Jungkook wanted to tell Jimin to shut up, but then your voice came back to him, if you want to react less emotionally, you have to take the time to sort through your initial reaction and the other options. So, instead, he picked up his lukewarm coffee and tapped the bottom edge against the table, thinking about the other, less emotional responses he could have.

“Yeah.”

Mmm.

Eloquent.

Came out a little gruffier than he wanted, but too late now.

Jimin frowned. “You never said why. I thought you were head over heels for her.”

He clicked his tongue and restrained himself from looking back. You would pick a table further away from the counter. Perhaps near the window. But why were you here? You used to come here with him. Conversations and dates. Who were you meeting? But if you were meeting someone, you wouldn’t have ordered before they arrived. Hm. Then there was the whole situation with the way you were smiling at your phone.

Like you were amused.

Playful.

Fuck.

“Hello? Earth to Jungkook, do you copy?”

He blinked hard and bit on his straw, not sulking but sulking. “S’nothing.” Great, he was mumbling now. Surefire sign you’re upset, you always reminded him. Everyone can tell. Just say it. “Actually, that why I wanted to talk to you.”

Those bright eyes and full lips turned into little circles. “Huh?”

Jungkook cleared his throat and glanced at Jimin under his hair. Furrowed brows and balancing his long, tattooed fingers on the lid of his ice coffee, not wanting to ask but asking anyway, because his ex-girlfriend seemed to be fucking fine visiting the places they used to visit and smiling like she was cool with not being with him anymore and that sucked, but it was easier to be mad than sad. He didn’t want to be sad in front of people.

Especially in front of people he was close to.

Especially in front of you.

So, Jungkook stayed mad.

“Did you hook-up with my ex or not?”

Jimin blinked at him.

“Hah?”

Shit.

You cut into the lemon cake, chewing thoughtfully.

A quick look at your nails and, shit, you should really repaint them before they started looking too rough. Two weeks was about as long as you could go before the nail growth was somewhat unbearable. This was about halfway through week three. Good preparation and high-quality polish could only get you so far before life eventually wore the manicure down.

Sigh.

Today was the first day you had decided to walk out and do something by yourself that wasn’t work, grocery shopping, or… wait, that was it. You had no other reason to go outside. Ack. You had another bite of cake. Been a while since you had this taste.

Your phone hummed on the table.

With your left ring finger, you checked your messages. And then you paused, because instead of reading a text, you were looking at a soundwave.

Voice message.

You reached over to your cup of hot tea, taking a sip and letting it scald you.

Breathed in and breathed out in a calm hiss, thinking.

Chewed on cake.

Ugh. You didn’t want to be that girl. But what were you gonna do? Almost eight billion people in this world and you were going to be hung up over one? One? And, anyway… In terms of too fast or too slow, you never knew what could happen, right? You hadn’t known with him, and you wouldn’t know with this one unless you started actually talking to him instead of skirting around with surface level shit. You hated that, so you shouldn’t do it. Your brain prodded you annoyingly with thoughts. Don’t be a hypocrite. Stop fucking around. Argh, okay. Okay. Fine.

You reached over to your phone and let it hover over the play button.

Wait.

Maybe you should listen to it in the car.

Yeah.

You put your phone back down and resumed eating and drinking.

You weren’t avoiding it. Okay, kinda. There was no point in dancing around the issue when you were by yourself. Get to the point. You came here specifically because it used to be your favorite café and it still was. It had nice memories attached to it, but then you stopped visiting it after… him. And for what? Did you combust from reminiscing? No. You were eating cake and having tea like you always did. The snack was just as tasty alone as it was with a partner. You were talking with another guy and you could bring him here eventually if you felt like it.

Maybe you should have been mad or sad about the whole Jeon Jungkook thing, but at this point it was just wasted energy and you were tired.

Tired of not feeling like yourself, tired if feeling like you couldn’t do things because you were reminded of him. So what? Everyone had good and bad. He wasn’t that bad of a guy. Faults were faults, and you had to decide if you could live with them or not.

Or he could decide, and start a dumbass argument.

Honestly, that was what you were most salty about. Yes, it was your nature to fight fire with fire, but you shouldn’t have. At least not so explosively. You were glad Jungkook hadn’t met your teenage self, that was for sure. Still, you had that habit of not mentioning when you were experiencing a bad day. Of course, they happened and without reason, same shit, different day. Those sorts of negative thoughts came in waves, after all. Mostly you didn’t want Jungkook to hover over you and try to make you feel better, because he would do so, and, if what he tried didn’t work, then he would be depressed and then it would begin, the endless cycle of you feeling like crap, him feeling like crap, so on and so forth until you felt better so he could feel better. Same shit, different day. Tiring. So, sometimes you didn’t mention bad days, but if he caught you on a bad day and acted emotionally, which did happen, it ended…

Poorly.

Jungkook was a passionate guy.

He thought a lot too.

Some things could be fixed, but some things got burnt to a crisp and then there was nothing to salvage.

Ugh.

You should have kept your temper more in check. Ah, well. You knew that now, but now was too late and you had no cake left, just a bit of hot tea and a voice message from a guy who wanted to know you.

You know what.

You actually wanted to know him too.

He had a cute smirk.

You neatly cleaned up and tossed the packaging, walking out with the paper cup, going back to your car to listen to that voice message that contained an alarmingly deep voice that surprised you with its sexiness. Well. Well, then.

Time to burn it up, maybe.

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit.

Okay. Okay, he had two choices. Let sleeping dogs lie or poke them, which may or may not result in the positive outcome he wanted. It probably wouldn’t, because you were fire and burned everything in your path, and while that could be a good thing, fuck, a very good thing, but this…

This wouldn’t end well for him.

Mostly because Jungkook now realized, after finally speaking to Jimin, that he was wrong in thinking that you were sneaking around and trying to sleep with his best friend, when in actuality you were contacting Jimin repeatedly and being secretive because you were planning a grand event that included all his friends and a big party for your boyfriend’s birthday, but then he beat you to the punch and broke up with you before anything could come to fruition.

So, yeah.

You were probably really pissed at him.

Jungkook wouldn’t be surprised if you wanted to set him on fire.

Ugggggggh, me, you stupid dummy!

He was sitting on his couch and slowly sinking to the floor, mentally berating himself for his pride and his overthinking, because of course Jungkook wouldn’t have thought like this if, as Jimin pointed out, he had some insecurity about her leaving him for someone else – and, unfortunately and infuriatingly, Jimin is damn right, because Jimin was kind and sweet and not nearly half as brash or annoying as Jungkook was.

Or thought he was.

And you could get anyone.

Anyone. With that body, that gaze, that confidence? No one would stand a chance. He hadn’t and he was fine with that, until he went and fucked it up, and now he knew you could go out and do whatever and whoever if you wanted, you just had to want to. And, obviously, you went out and visited your favorite café. Without him. To top it all off, you had smiled at your phone, clearly texting someone.

Shit.

Jungkook slapped his hands to his face and groaned, his ass at the edge of the couch and two centimeters away from collapsing to his abstract black-and-white living room rug that you had picked out when he moved in after he nagged you saying that he was bad at interior design and needed help, but secretly he only wanted to annoy you into making decisions for him.

He should… say something.

It wasn’t going to end well.

Fuck!

He hoped the person you were talking to was not cute. You liked cute more than handsome, he knew. You liked cute faces, deep voices, and diligent, hardworking people who knew who they were and weren’t easily swayed in their beliefs.

Which he was everything he was.

He just had the wrong belief and went way too far into the deep end without putting his pride aside and straight-up asking, thus leading to him being single and, now, angry at himself. For someone who thinks so much, you act too fast, you used to tell him with a laugh, mostly referring to his aggressiveness when playing video games.

Jungkook sadly plopped onto the floor for a good while, thinking about what he had done.

You were horny.

But, also, you were trying to change, so you weren’t about to coerce this guy that you were barely getting to know to drop his pants. Although he probably would. You were pretty convincing when you wanted to be and there were some telltale signs signaling that you two had some shared… interests. Yeah. However! You were trying not to go that route for once in your life.

It was pretty difficult.

He had sent you more voice messages. He even sent one he considered embarrassing, where he was singing, which would have been cringe as hell except it turned out to be the complete opposite. The stark contrast of his sweet, angelic singing voice and his deep, sultry speaking voice was shocking. Unreal. Was it possible to fall in love from just that knowledge? No. Was it possible to find your heart racing and imagining indecent things?

Possible?

Yes.

Did that make you a degenerate?

Maybe.

Hence why you simply made a comment about his talent and how impressive it was. You did not, in fact, mention the sudden intense desire to march over to wherever this guy was, rip off his shirt, and run your tongue all over his chest so you could hear the varying tones of the delicious noises that he would surely make as you teased his skin and who-knows-what-else. Mostly what was stopping you was that you hadn’t asked to see him in person yet.

Anyway.

Now you were stuck with the age-old question – jack off or distract yourself?

Or keep talking to the new guy?

No. You couldn’t do that. You were trying to change, and that meant not basing the foundation of a relationship on sex and good conversation. The latter, fine. The former? Apparently got you in trouble, apparently made you a problem, apparently was not good, and you didn’t used to care about that stuff until you lost him.

Stupid love.

You sighed and plopped down on your bed, frowning.

Your phone was laying on your pillow, having a nice nap.

You knew you should probably talk to someone about it. Anyone. But you avoided it, because you didn’t want to put Jeon Jungkook in a bad light to anyone, ex-boyfriend or not. You simply avoided everyone’s questions until they all died out and left you alone. Then you spent countless nights, much like this one, analyzing why you felt the way you felt about that thing that seemed to invade way too much of your life.

Jungkook accusing you of cheating on him.

You used to think, ah, I don’t overthink things, but even if you didn’t actively think about it, you found yourself holding back, not doing things that you would normally do, all because what if someone misinterpreted your intentions? What is there was just something about you that implied such a thought? It would have been easy to brush off if it was some random, but the person that you had thought you would spend the rest of your life with had accused you of lying.

The one thing you hated most, lying.

Which you had been doing at the time, but not about what he thought it was.

Which made it a harder pill to swallow, which made you stubborn, which made you not say anything or bother correcting him with receipts, because fuck him, fuck Jeon Jungkook for accusing you of cheating, fuck him and his, I’m breaking up with you, and you bluntly accepting it and leaving.

Ghosted him.

Didn’t even bother asking for an explanation or reconciliation.

Be the bigger person, yeah, that was what all the self-help books and podcasts said, but honestly you didn’t give a fuck. How the hell were you going to go on, living with the knowledge of Jeon Jungkook accusing you of lying, the one thing you hated most in this world? Who cared what his reason was? Who cared what it all meant? Not you on a bad day.

You winced.

Nothing you could do about that now.

The only way to make things different was to act differently in the same situation. If you were going to see someone new, you couldn’t just seduce them and drive them to the brink of insanity so that they were begging to fuck on the first meeting. You already did that.

With Jungkook.

And we know how that one ended.

So, you were doing the whole meet-a-guy-on-a-dating-app thing, switch to texting – probably too quickly but whatever – and slowly build up to a first meeting.

Slowly.

It had been a week and he was sending voice memos of him singing and maybe you were already shamelessly flirting.

Okay, you were trying and that was the point. Also, he was making it too easy and being too cute with his reactions. Being able to hear the sheepishness in that deep voice, mmm. And he simply couldn’t refuse you when you prompted him to switch to speaking directly instead of text. He did whatever you asked, not questioning it.

Maybe you should call him.

Hm.

Your hand found its way to the pillow where your phone was having a serene siesta.

You wanted to, but there was something that was holding you back. It would be easy to be blind about it, but you had to be honest with yourself before getting to the serious playing around. You didn’t need to bring up a picture of new guy. You knew exactly what he looked like – and that was the problem.

Born in the same year.

Muscular with a cute face.

The same height.

Seriously sexy when absorbed in their interests and adorable as fuck when flustered.

Able to be flustered easily by you, the intoxicating fire.

New guy didn’t have tattoos though. Not any that you could see in his photos, anyway. Mhm, you can sit here and pretend all you want but there are too many similarities to him and Jeon Jungkook, missy. Your brain had a point. Maybe this was what having-a-type meant. Or maybe this screamed rebound, which is exactly what you didn’t want it to be, so you were holding back.

But new guy was so.

Fucking.

Cute.

Pairing the combination of his loveable demeanor with the contrast of how built he was and that was the lethal combination right there. Plus, it was obvious he liked you. It would only take a little push. You flicked your wrist and unlocked your phone with your fingerprint, immediately bringing up the last thing you were doing. His latest text, saying he was off to shower, but promising he would be back after. Your phone normally vibrated to notify you, but this time it didn’t have to.

In real time, the voice memo popped up.

You played it.

That distinct deliciously deep voice shyly murmuring, “I’m back.”

He was only sending it because he knew you liked it. You could tell by his tone. Hear the hope in it. Well, shit, you could have all these dumbass overthinking reasons to not do something risky, or you could answer the hint of anticipation in that bated breath.

Don’t, your brain said.

You ticked your head. The call button was right next to his name.

You pressed it.

“Surprised?” was your greeting.

Maybe you weren’t making headway. Maybe it wasn’t that serious. Maybe you were in for-fun mode, out to break hearts to protect yours. Not that Jungkook would know, because he was standing in your favorite place in the world, and you weren’t here to answer his maybes.

He jumped as the intercom buzzed and scratchily announced that the leftover bread from the bakery was being put on flash sale. Most likely because it was going to expire today.

Yes, Jeon Jungkook was standing in the savory snack aisle of your local grocery store. A lot of people preferred the sweeter snacks – that was him, he was a lot of people – but you wanted the salty ones, which meant you and him never had to fight for snacks. He would eat all the candy and you would be chomping on seaweed. Harmony.

Until he fucked it up.

Yes, we get it. You’re an idiot. Move on, me.

But Jungkook couldn’t move on, because he was moping and picking up the last bag of shrimp chips like it was the goddamn Holy Grail and hoping your communications with mystery man were not going well. Well, he didn’t know if it was a man but it would hurt more if it was and his mind was conjuring worst case scenario to terrorize him. Or guilt him. Or both.

He clutched the shrimp chips like they were his lifeline and shuffled out of the aisle.

He didn’t even really like them. Well, he did. He would eat any snack. They just tasted better when they were with you because you loved them and used to talk about how you ate them a lot as a kid. Jungkook used to tease you for not liking candy enough. Were you even a kid? And then you’d put him in a chokehold. A real one, not a metaphorical one – although you had him there too.

He shouldn’t have taught you that. Was a bad idea.

Well, he couldn’t even be regretful about that anymore.

Sigh.

Where the fuck were the shrimp chips?

You were staring at the label that indicated they were discounted. Right there, in glaring red ink. They were clearly sold here. You reached back, feeling around for that familiar packaging. You would recognize the ridge of the shrimp chips right away. Nothing but the turtle chips. Fuck! Who the hell bought the shrimp chips? You squinted at the cart of the old lady at the far end of the aisle.

Was it you, lady? Hmm?!

Before you could harass said old lady, she leisurely rolled off to the next aisle.

Fuck.

Not that you would fight the elderly for shrimp chips, but maybe you had put people into a headlock for less.

Not maybe, you had.

Anyway.

Perhaps you shouldn’t have come after dinner. Damnnit. You marched out of the aisle and searched the endcaps, hoping that perhaps there was a spare bag left behind or possibly another display. Nope. Sad times. What else were you craving? You came all the way over to your local grocery store to get a familiar nostalgic snack, only for them to not have it, therefore you must purchase something random so the cashiers didn’t think you’re a weirdo for leaving empty-handed.

Not that they would notice.

Or care.

Hm.

You were about to collect what was left of your shattered expectations and get out of there before you stopped, seeing a colorful display with a poster of a joyful marshmallow standing under a starry sky, beside a tent and a campfire. The stacked boxes under the brightly saturated sign indicated the product contents of chocolate, graham crackers, and marshmallows – a s’mores kit.

Was…

Was the marshmallow going to roast himself as sacrifice?

Or… was the marshmallow going to eat these s’mores?

Before you could debate the ethics of the vaguely cannibalistic nature of this marketing tactic, you remembered Jeon Jungkook’s favorite dessert was s’mores. In fact, he nearly caused a fire on your gas stove in his desire for said sweet treat. There was a lot of yelling and smoke and throwing open the window to your next-door neighbor staring wide-eyed at you as the smoke alarm blared.

You recalled gasping that you burnt the rice and scurrying away.

What? You weren’t going to throw your boyfriend under the bus.

Er.

Ex-boyfriend, now.

You reached out to the box. A fun activity for the family, it said. You didn’t have a family. Just you and some what-ifs. You held the box, feeling the weight. It was substantial, but not that heavy. Get it together. What were you going to do? Freak out every time you thought about Jungkook? Come on. He doesn’t deserve that. The best thing you could do was have a good opinion of him, despite him being a little shit.

Hey.

You meant that in an endearing way.

… Yeah.

You sighed and tucked the s’mores kit under your arm. This was how life was. People were too complicated to fit in neat little boxes and situations were too convoluted to have a correct or right resolution. You would probably feel even shittier if you tried to act on emotions and get into his face about it. You had to take the L. Eat the damn s’mores and maybe think about finally meeting the new guy. The conversation had been nice and fluid once you got him talking about himself, something he had been reluctant to do because he didn’t want to seem arrogant.

You had asked him if he was.

He had replied with, “Maybe a little?” The self-doubt in his response had made you laugh, as if he wasn’t so sure himself. But the whole point becoming someone’s potential one and only was bragging about yourself, so might as well lay out everything you got, right?

You didn’t even like sweets.

Maybe the new guy did, though. Maybe you should try to like them a little more.

You bought the box of s’mores and went home.

Normally, people cried into wine or chocolate, but Jungkook was crying into a bag of shrimp chips.

Okay.

Not actually crying, because then he would ruin the shrimp chips, but pretty damn close to sobbing into the crispy snack while watching the latest popular drama and wondering what you were doing. Hopefully you were happy, doing stuff you loved. Cute stuff, like watching cat videos or those home renovation shows you seemed to have great interest in. You told him you wanted to learn about houses so that you would have knowledge when buying one with him. Smart. So smart. Oh, man, why were you so smart and why was he a dum-dum? That’s not fair, Jungkook. You’ll handle all the interior design stuff because you’re artsy, oh, wait, I’ll have to narrow down the options so you don’t buy seven different diffusers. He chomped away at the shrimp chips, sniffling at the memory.

He was being lame.

Also, a little self-centered, because this was not all about him. You had been in the relationship too and technically you were the one who was hurt. He should not be the sad one sitting here on the floor in front of his television and stuffing his face with shrimp chips as he watched the male lead and the female lead go through some misunderstandings. He should be thinking about how he could be a better person.

Jungkook frowned.

Were shrimp chips gluten-free?

He checked the label.

Yes. Whew. His doctor had warned him he shouldn’t have gluten late at night, as it would upset his stomach. Step one into being a better person, take care of one’s personal health. At least he was doing that right.

Right-ish.

Back to chomping away.

Maybe you were happier without him. That would suck, but at least you would be doing well. What more could he ask for? Besides rewinding time and boinking some sense into his own head. Something to ask Doctor Strange once they would inevitably meet. It would be awkward to ask for a favor right away, but what’s the worst that could happen? Utter chaos of the timeline and disruption of subsequent timelines connecting the various multiverses?

… On second thought.

Jungkook wondered if the female lead would just tell the male lead that she already liked him. You wouldn’t have a problem saying something like that right away. It was very cool of you, always being the first to admit how you felt. Never hiding anything.

It was at that moment that Jungkook choked on a shrimp chip and starting hacking up his lungs.

He had to punch his chest to gain some semblance of breath back. There was a lot of wheezing and scrambling for the water bottle on his coffee table. Ugh. His throat felt all fucked up.

Hmmmm.

Did you throat feel like this when he rammed his dick into it? He never asked. He had been too busy feeling good and ascending to the heavens to ask questions. He should have been more thoughtful on that front. Maybe if he had been more considerate…

You had a vibe going on here, me, and you just ruined it by thinking about sex.

Oops.

Anyway.

Back to watching drama and crying over shrimp chips despite one of them trying to end his life.

You opened the box of the s’mores kit and the graham crackers were all crushed.

“Fuck.”

You could roast marshmallows and top it with melted chocolate and graham cracker powder?

You struggled and made do, realizing with a quick taste test that, yes, this was too sweet, but you had tea and resilience, and your never-say-die attitude reminded you that you could do anything, including making a very messy but possibly innovative dessert. If you added some yogurt, would it become a s’mores parfait? Hey. That could be a thing… somewhere.

Well, it was a thing here in your kitchen right now.

At least you didn’t start a fire.

“Maybe you should do something.”

He stared off into space and answered hollowly.

“Like what?”

“I don’t know,” Park Jimin dragged out exaggeratedly. “Talk to her? Maybe your ship has sailed, but at least you could get some closure. For my sake.” He muttered the last bit under his breath.

Jungkook did not want to hear that his ship has sailed. He wanted to hear that the ship was right here, docking to the port. Or… something like that. Whatever. Anyway, Jimin was doing a shit job of helping him figure out how to repair the gaping wound in his chest. Talk to her, yeah, like that was gonna solve anything.

Psh.

Jungkook pushed the food around on his plate. A surefire sign he was feeling like shit. He always ate. Few things could stop him from eating.

“Are you dying? Why are you disrespecting your dak-galbi like that?”

On second thought, Jungkook shoveled it into his mouth. Food comas were a thing, right? Maybe he could eat himself into a stupor. Maybe he could induce an actual coma if he consumed enough alcohol and food.

Only one way to find out.

“Oi, don’t eat that fast, are you trying to give yourself a stomachache? Oi. Jungkook!”

You woke up.

Heart racing, world swirling, touching your face, and there they were, tears, uninhibited by logic anymore, blurry faces and that kind of anger that was more sad than angry, but fury won, because you didn’t want to show that you were sad, burying it deep inside until your dreams broke through your subconscious and replayed it for you, the yelling, the throwing of cushions, the snatching of the keys and the furious tossing of your shoes on and then running, running, you shouldn’t have ran but you did, you ran and ran and ran and cried into the wind just like how you cried into your pillow right now and for what, for nothing, for something that was over and dead, over and dead.

It was fading.

Fading.

The memory, and now your tears, curling into your pillow, suffocating yourself in cloth, trying to close it out, breathing nothing and seeing black, in, out, in, out, until your lungs felt like they were burning.

You threw your head up, gasping.

Face dry.

Not a chance that someone would catch you crying over Jeon Jungkook.

Not that anyone was here except you.

You were still someone though.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

How could he think I was lying when I hate lying most in this world?

And no one could see you cry, no one could see you fall apart, no one could think that they had any power over you, because you weren’t weak, you couldn’t be made a fool of, you would rather tear it apart yourself then let someone else think that they could get to you.

You ruined everything, me.

And maybe you did.

Maybe you did and now what? Nothing. Nothing but bad dreams and an empty bed and shuddering breaths as you wiped your eyes with the duvet and pretended your nose wasn’t stuffy, sliding back down to the silence, breathing quietly, he used to be right here and now there was no one but you, but you were someone and not a chance that someone would see you crying over Jeon Jungkook.

You were someone.

And there was nothing anyone could do about this aftermath, nothing to do about you yelling irreversible things and him yelling irreversible things, both of you tearing apart what you built together like it was nothing, over what?

Pride.

Fear.

The usual suspects.

There was no point in asking why no one fought for anyone because everyone was wearing masks of mad and secretly sad. Yeah, you could die on this sacred ground. You could. That would be real fuckin’ easy. But easy wasn’t living. You didn’t pick easy when you picked Jungkook, and you didn’t pick easy when you walked away either.

This limbo wasn’t you.

You sighed.

Breathed out.

Held your breath for thirty seconds.

Easy isn’t living, me. Just go on a damn date.

You are a dumbass, me.

He was too full and too drunk and a blob on his own bed. Jimin tried to convince him that he needed someone to take care of him, but Jungkook just pushed his hyung out the door and bade him good night. Jimin kept urging him to talk about it, but Jungkook was, he was talking to his head every second of every day and it wasn’t doing anything but giving him a headache, and now he had a fat headache and a bursting-at-the-seams tummy.

Oof.

So now he was a blob.

Hopefully he wouldn’t throw up.

He felt around and found the water bottle by his bed. Okay. At least he had water. There was a packet of hangover meds in his nightstand drawer. For emergencies like this. Jimin had reminded him that he couldn’t keep doing this to himself, but joke’s on Jimin, Jungkook knew he could. Had been and quite frankly was thinking about sulking to his heart’s content, maybe even until the end of time, because everyone was telling him he couldn’t, so stubbornly he continued.

Out of principle.

Something like that.

Okay, maybe Jungkook was secretly seriously considering gathering his courage to speak to you face-to-face. Maybe. It was all his fault, after all. For not believing, for making up a narrative that tore you and him apart, all his fault for burning that bridge you two built together, and for what, for nothing but pride and fear and wasn’t he getting a little old for that?

Jungkook sighed, feeling far too sober and reasonable.

Should have drunk more.

Maybe you didn’t need the closure, but he wouldn’t know unless he asked, and he was done assuming, done thinking he knew what was what. It was clear that he didn’t. He didn’t even know if he needed closure, but the aftermath still stung even now, scorched by the everlasting fire, and maybe he was stupid for thinking some silly little words could do anything for this situation, but it was something, right, and something was better than this nothing, nothing but a bad signal flickering weakly, couldn’t connect because there were too many walls separating you and him.

Jungkook knew exactly where your apartment was, and could confirm that there were probably many walls separating you and him right now.

If you were in your apartment, that is.

You had to be. It was the middle of the night.

He should be asleep.

Jungkook resumed his blob form and waited for his dreams to take him.

Or nightmares.

That was not a choice he could make, unfortunately.

First dates were difficult because you had to chose the one outfit that would represent you. In the off chance that you only ended up meeting this person once, you felt that your clothes had to give off a distinct impression of who you were. Similar to that age-old question of, if you were a ghost and stuck with one outfit forever, what would you want to wear?

Morbid, but effective.

Something you could live by.

Oh, yeah, me, also perhaps you should try to impress the new guy.

You didn’t want to admit it but the truth was the truth – this was less about him and more about you and taking responsibility for whatever came, good or bad. Because, yes, maybe it wouldn’t turn out well, maybe nothing was meant to be, maybe you were driving in the metaphorical fast lane and accelerating way too recklessly, but it wasn’t like you to let up on the gas, and the only way to found out if there was any chance at all was to put on some damn clothes and just do the damn thing.

That how you were before…

No. You were someone before him and you’re someone now.

It wasn’t fair.

But life wasn’t fair, life was complicated and maybe even a little immoral sometimes, and that was how it was so you got dressed. White cropped t-shirt. You look so good in those, even if they’re simple. Big black hoodie with a cheeky-looking ghost in the back, peeking up with a mischievous little smile. I love oversized stuff on you. It makes you look so small and cute. Short black skirt, pleated, with a chain hanging off the hip. You hooked on a little keychain of a tuxedo cat to the top of the chain, something for you to know and maybe for others to find out if you took off your hoodie. I’m glad you like wearing short skirts. You have great legs and I love looking at them. Thick thigh-high black socks to block out the cold. Aw, man, sucks that it’s getting cold now but you have to protect those precious legs. You would wear your heeled boots with the big silver buckles shaped like moons. Thick soled and heavy, ah, like mine.

You looked at yourself in the mirror.

Your fashion is nice because you always match me.

You could hear Jungkook’s voice even though he wasn’t there and you just had to stand there and accept that life wasn’t fair and that you would hear it for a while until you forgot the sound of his voice and it wasn’t fair that you still couldn’t decide if you actually wanted to forget it or not.

But nothing changed if you only stood still, so you walked over to your front door and put your shoes on. Checked your black bag with a frowning smiley face icon printed on the front and slung it over your shoulder, safely tucking it by your hip.

Paused.

Glanced at the hooks by your door and picked up the thick maroon-colored scarf, lopping it around your neck as you opened the door and walked out, holding your keys in your hand.

Who the fuck is that?

Now.

Now, Jungkook was fully and completely aware what he was doing was wrong, even if his original intent was perfectly sensible. Completely normal. Nothing wrong with what he had initially meant to do but shit got sidetracked the second he spotted familiar legs and a black hoodie, with a cheeky ghost printed onto the back, that’s the one, and was that a man walking next to you, dark-haired and handsome, kind of close, turning his head and laughing at something you said, something Jungkook couldn’t hear because he was a block away, staring wide-eyed with his legs moving of their own accord.

Wondering what this guy had that Jungkook didn’t have.

That white sweater didn’t do much to hide the broad shoulders and muscular frame. Clean blue jeans and a very nice smile, eyes that crinkled up when he laughed, covering his mouth. It wasn’t fake. Jungkook had hoped it was a fake laugh but it looked genuine as fuck and now Jungkook was stalking his ex-girlfriend on his way to her apartment to have that talk that Jimin kept telling him to have, the talk to get out all these pent-up feelings, but now he should just turn around and try another day.

But life wasn’t fair.

He wanted to say he was simply too dumbstruck to stop himself, but Jungkook was pretty sure it was sinful jealousy that was giving his legs the strength to follow at a block’s distance.

He wanted to tell himself something comforting, like she has terrible taste but the guy was pretty good-looking actually, or he doesn’t seem that interesting but you seemed very invested in what he had to say at the intersection, so interested that you two missed the crossing signal, or he can’t make you laugh but you did, you laughed and he laughed at the missed signal and it looked like a scene of out a movie, two adults holding insulated cups of some warm drink and shyly smiling over light sips in between conversation.

And the creepy ex-boyfriend squinting at the scene from a block away.

Yup, that’s me. You’re probably wondering how I got here.

You started crossing and Jungkook jogged to catch the light just before it changed.

This was really stupid all around, but he didn’t care. He wanted to know if this new guy knew your affinity for green tea and lemon cake yet. He wanted to know if new guy liked your oversized hoodie and skirt, because it was one of his favorite outfit combinations on you. He wanted to know how you felt about new guy, because new guy looked like he had an impressive personal best at the bench press, and Jungkook wanted to know if it was better than his, not that it mattered.

But it mattered.

Jungkook avoided the streetlamps that suddenly turned on, trying to stay out of the light. He didn’t know how recognizable he was in his massive black parka and black jeans with rips at the knees, but he wasn’t chancing you suddenly turning around and recognizing his knees.

He made sure his face mask was on securely before pulling the hood over his head.

New guy put his hand on your head and Jungkook almost skidded to a stop as a different hand fluffed your hair.

You playfully swiped at new guy’s hand and now Jungkook was close enough to hear that deep laugh at your reaction.

You used to take Jungkook’s hand and put it on your head and when he asked what you were doing, you simply told him that you liked the reassuring weight.

How did I not get it?

Jungkook watched as both you and new guy stopped, realizing you were holding his wrist.

In slow motion, you reluctantly let go and dipped your head, apologizing.

New guy waved his hand, apologizing himself, bowing even.

Night was falling, falling.

You beckoned, indicating that the walk should continue.

Jungkook followed and watched you talk to this man in front of your apartment complex. He tried to sort out the feeling, because there was a part of him that hadn’t given up yet, and another part that saw that life wasn’t fair, and the last part him thought maybe this right in front of him was meant to be and maybe his part of your fairytale was over.

The man leaned over and deliberately kissed you on the cheek, politely not going for the lip kiss.

He waved and stepped back, back in the opposite direction, but Jungkook was on the other side of the street now, circling, coming from the other way as he watched new guy wave to you and you wave back, yelling at him to be careful and watch where he was going.

“Kim Gunhak! You’ll trip if you don’t turn around!”

And this Kim Gunhak almost did, catching himself and looking sheepish, giving you one last smile before turning around.

You waited until he was too far away to make out and then headed into your apartment complex.

Jungkook fought with himself, unsure what to do now, wondering what was right.

You had only just taken off your shoes when your doorbell buzzed.

The intercom was in the hallway, but you were right next to the door, so, instead of checking it, you opened it, expecting a confused delivery person who was looking for your next-door neighbor around the corner or a neighbor inquiring about a lost dog or maybe even some drunkard who had the wrong apartment, literally anyone but the person who was standing at the entrance of your front door.

Jeon Jungkook.

He looked very sober.

His cheeks were pink from the cool night.

You thought you would have something to say, something vengeful and witty and spirited with fire, but your eyes connected with those big brown ones and suddenly you were staring at him and he was staring at you, frozen, couldn’t speak, afraid to jinx it, feeling like something otherworldly was happening right now, impossible that Jeon Jungkook was right there, someone you had known so well not that long ago, but now his eyes were flying saucers from another planet.

Unrecognizable, the feeling in those eyes.

You remembered crying and that hurt.

But easy wasn’t living.

Sometimes living meant you got hurt.

You remembered every detail on his face, from his dark eyebrows to his black hair, longer now, to those expressive dark brown orbs, to the shape of his pink lips accented with a silver ring, to the mole underneath them. Little details that you loved about him. You remembered you should be mad at him. You felt like maybe you should be.

But, like ashes, there was nothing but smokey remnants after enough time passed.

Jungkook spoke first.

“I’m… sorry.”

It was cold and you should close the door, but you were stuck, transfixed by his words.

“I know you hate those words, because actions mean more than I’m sorry but…” He sucked in a shaky breath and helplessness looked right at you. “I thought of a thousand actions and none of them can take back what I thought was true, because in that moment I betrayed you, the moment when I left myself believe in something that I made up in my mind more than I believed in you.”

He looked like he was going to cry and you hated it when Jungkook cried because then you felt like crying, like you had made him cry even if it wasn’t directly about you, but this was about you.

“When I realized I could be wrong, I didn’t want to admit it.”

Pride.

“By then I said some shitty things and you were already out the door.”

Fear.

“You said I was too stubborn and headstrong for anybody, even you,” you breathed, every memory scored pain, burned into your brain.

Jungkook shook his head. He didn’t try to come closer even though you could tell he wanted to. He didn’t cry even though you could tell he wanted to. He didn’t stop his lip from trembling because he wanted you to see that he was honest, that he didn’t want to hide even though past him would want to.

“I’m sorry. You always told me to be aware of my initial reaction so I could sort through the other options and react less emotionally, but I failed you, and I failed us, and I know I shouldn’t say this, but I wish I could take it all back, the first thought about you and Jimin, and everything after, because if I just said that very first thought out loud instead of holding it in, I wouldn’t be watching you live life without me.”

Your thoughts whispered to you, cruel and unfaithful poison seeping.

It's my fault.

Maybe it was. Maybe it wasn’t. Maybe Jungkook was being unfair to apply what you said to this situation and maybe he wasn’t. It was hard to tell and hard to know the answer. The funny thing about life was that there was usually no answer. There was only shit that happened and acting on too little information too much of the time. Maybe it would be apt to feel anger now, because Jungkook gave you the obscure hint that he had seen Kim Gunhak walk you home, perhaps just the kiss on the cheek goodbye part but it was spying all the same, and yet, instead of anger, you felt something else.

Relieved.

“You saw my date drop me off?” you asked quietly.

Jungkook looked away, ashamed.

“Yeah.”

Now.

Now you saw it was pointless.

Your fault. His fault. Who cared whose fault was it? You could spend all day and all night and all the time thereafter trying to decide whose fault it was, but at the end of the day the earth beneath you and him was scorched by an imperfect love, and it was fine to walk away. It was fine to tell him that he could walk away too, fine to walk away from the ashes of this fairytale.

You can walk away from our fairytale, Jungkook, me.

He raised his head, making eye contact with you again, taking a deep breath.

You gazed back.

Saw flecks of what could have been, lights still alive in those big brown eyes.

Pride.

Fear.

Not a chance that someone would catch you crying over Jeon Jungkook.

“I…”

The usual suspects holding you back.

“I… told myself I could do anything,” you said, not breaking eye contact and you saw he believed that you could; he always did. “I only had to put the effort in. Meet people and open up a little. Even if it was fake it ‘til I make it, and I almost made it.”

The world was blurry and cold, all around.

“Almost.”

Not a chance.

“I almost did, Jeon Jungkook, but then you had to go and apologize.”

The tears came down, and Jungkook instinctively reached out to wipe them away, but then he stopped, suddenly afraid. You stepped back and wiped your cheeks yourself, surprised at that suddenness. Was this what getting older and growing up meant? Allowing yourself to be in touch with your emotions?

Mortifying.

You stared at him, almost accusingly, and it was all falling apart.

“I’m tired of trying to figure out who was wrong.”

Everything was all wrong.

“I’m tired of trying to rethink every little thing, all thanks to you.”

Painstakingly re-wiring every thought so all those little things didn’t remind you of Jungkook, giving in sometimes to the memories and feeling aghast that both of you had dropped the lit match onto the bridge you built together, burning it, burning it all down.

“I’m tired of missing you.”

You didn’t want to be that one, but you grabbed him by the front of his parka and shook him hard, out of frustration and that thought that no one should catch you crying over a boy, of all things, a silly boy who had made you laugh and loved sweets and your fashion and had always eagerly listened to you talk about whatever with stars in his eyes like you his everything, and so you refused to cry in front of him so you could always look cool and tough and not affected, but now you shoved your head into his chest and cried, cried about how you couldn’t be the person he thought you were, a person worthy of his love, because the truth was deep down you were weak, deep down you were made a fool of, and deep down Jungkook did have power over you since some part of you stupidly hadn’t given up yet. If you had been worthy, why would he have any reason to question your faithfulness? You must have done something wrong. The unknown had eaten away at you all this time, prevented you from crying and prevented you from trying to reconcile, and here Jungkook was beating you to it, so the least you could do was be honest and cry.

It was the worst, letting yourself cry.

He wrapped his arms around your shoulders, holding you to him.

You pushed him away, glaring, fiercely rubbing at your eyes with the bottom of your sleeves.

“Don’t lie to me.”

Shook your head, stumbling back into your apartment, swinging at the door and missing, your red scarf falling from your neck, falling, falling, warmth slipping away.

“Don’t try to make me feel better when all you came here to do was to heal yourself.”

“I didn’t come here to heal myself.”

Jungkook bit his lip, looking guilty, following you inside, but only a step.

“I came here to try and get you back. I was going to fight that guy with my bare hands.”

Your tears paused, blinking hard to clear your vision.

“What?”

His eyes shifted and he sucked on the inside of his cheek, frowning slightly. “Well, if this was a movie, I would fight him, but it’s not, because it’s unlikely you would take me back after I beat up some poor guy.”

“I would kick your ass,” you snapped, annoyance clearing the sadness. “Not to mention Gunhak is a workout maniac, as much or more than you. He wouldn’t be beaten by you so easily.”

Jungkook pouted.

You froze.

The moment hung in the air, a stillness with too much meaning.

“Well, I would already lose anyway,” he mumbled, glancing at you. “You were always my weakness.”

Those big brown eyes and you noticed his ears were red, his cheeks were flushed and even his fingers were scarlet. This moment was a choice, a moment to stop and consider the options, but all you did was follow your instinct, reaching forward and grabbing his wrist, pulling him to you, ignoring his wide eyes and confused squeak, pulling and closing the door, cutting off the cold, and now it was just you and him, you holding his cold hands and rubbing, closing your fingers around them, not knowing if this was a bad decision or not, probably, but what made a decision good or bad?

No answers.

“I hate you,” you muttered. “You watch too much drama and memorized all the good lines.”

Your gaze flickered to him and Jungkook pulled a face, looking remorseful again, except this time he seemed less sure of his guilt.

“Sorry?”

You bit your lip.

“You’re stubborn and headstrong too, Jungkook.”

He nodded, not denying it.

“But you’re my good influence,” he chirped lightly.

Then he winced.

“Were. Were my good influence.”

Corrected himself, tone pained.

Heart racing, looking at your world, holding onto Jungkook’s hands, and he stepped closer tentatively, warmth and memories, and the line of having a possibly uncomfortable conversation tomorrow was not crossed yet, not yet, and you squeezed his hands, those big brown eyes asking you if the impossible was possible, and you didn’t dare open your mouth, because the real answer was that you didn’t know, he didn’t know, no one knew, nothing was meant to be, everything was impossible until someone made it possible, and maybe that those someones could be you and him.

You tilted your head.

Familiar breath.

“You can tell me if you like him more than me,” Jungkook whispered shakily. “I’ll probably cry, but I’ll understand eventually.”

The tips of his hair touched your forehead.

“Can you shut up, Jungkook?” you hissed back. “Just shut up and close your eyes if you want me to kiss you.”

Flecks of what could have been, lights still alive in those flying saucers, and his lashes lowered, casting darkness over the stars in those big brown eyes, closing them.

What are you doing, me?

You kissed him.

He should have accepted what was, was, but Jungkook couldn’t and now you kissed him and his brain reminded him that you could be the one to break his heart this time, but Jungkook told his brain, I don’t care, and kissed back, trying not to cry all over your face. If this was your revenge arc, Jungkook would gladly be part of it. He had kinda been a shithead. He could understand the audience perspective.

Also, you were kinda hot in your revenge arc.

What?

Jungkook had told you many times before that he loved your legs.

You let go of his hands and placed your palms on his cheeks, exhaling into his mouth, and he never said it before, but he loved that shit, it got him inappropriately hard inappropriately fast, something about the heat and the calmness of your sweet breath that drove him crazy.

He did love sweets, after all.

“You’re so cold.”

Your kiss on his cheeks, his gasping mouth, grazing his lip ring. Soft, plush, perfect lips murmuring against his skin, familiar and sensual and comforting, and he was seconds away from crying, so instead he drew in a shuddering breath, falling into the more R-rated thoughts because if he didn’t let arousal take over, he was seconds away from becoming a motionless, emotional puddle on your hardwood floor and that wasn’t how he wanted this to end.

Yes, Jungkook was relying on sex to keep himself mentally stable.

Sorry, you’re too sexy and I want you too much.

“It’s cold outside,” and his reply came out a little more childish than he intended, too breathy and shivery, it was just so nice, so fucking nice that you were kissing him again, tracing his ears with your fingertips, loving caress, pulling him closer.

Your smile against his lip ring from his silly response.

“I’m warm. Touch me,” you breathed against his chin, hot and heavy.

Okay, maybe Jungkook knew all nice lines in dramas, but you knew all the lines to the porn videos.

Not that he was complaining.

His hands finding your waist and your teeth sinking his lower lip and he whined, the sting of pain coursing through him, a sharp detail of reality proving that this was no dream. His fingers curling into the thick fabric of your hoodie, grasping for your body, warm and getting warmer, yanking you closer. Your tongue tracing his skin, your hands framing the sides of his neck, stripped honesty vibrating in the millimeters of air between your faces.

“I always liked the sounds you make,” you purred, wisps of breath from your formation of words dancing between his trembling lips. “Like you’re desperate for me.”

“I am,” he found himself admitting. “I always am, please, breathe in my mouth, please.”

A ripple of surprise, but you wasted no time, covering his lips with yours and sighing into his throat, making his eyelids flutter and his whole body shiver, and if this was the last time then Jungkook was just going to leave it all on the table, all the things that made him feel good, he wanted them, all the things he remembered you liked, he would do them, like letting go of your hoodie and sliding his hands into your hair, turning your head to kiss your ear and suck on the space right under it, tongue and lips and teeth, your hitched breath at his touch, he missed it, the soft scent of your hair products filling his nose, he missed it, he missed the taste of your skin and the way you impatiently yanked his clothes off, cleanly unzipping his parka and pushing it off his shoulders, forcing him to let go up your head and just dump it on the ground, kicking off his shoes to a different directions, persistently keeping his lips on your neck and letting the fervor take over, insistently pushing you deeper inside your apartment.

He missed it, the way you enjoyed him.

“Can you–”

But you didn’t complete your irritated request, abruptly shoving him into the wall and making him gasp, and then the next thing he knew he was pressing his head to the wall and moaning as you bit down above his collarbone, running your tongue along that sensitive skin, your nails dragging down the sides of his neck, leaving lines of wanton fire.

“Too many layers,” you growled, tugging at the collar of his long-sleeved gray shirt even though it was the only layer separating you and him, but you were right, he agreed that it was too many layers, and Jungkook hastily yanked it up and over his head, tossing it to the side and then you bent down, your hands splayed over his right shoulder and the left side of his hip.

Pink tongue sliding out.

Licking up his chest.

Watching him as you did it, causing blood and pleasure to rush to all the right places.

He moaned, loud and pornographic.

You cocked an eyebrow.

He reached out and pulled at your hoodie and you made it crumple to the floor, then body to body again, face to face, kiss to hungry kiss, his hands going up your white crop top and under your bra, whining deep in his chest as you exhaled into his mouth again, thrusting your tongue into his lips when his fingertips brushed your nipples.

You backed off a little, taking your tongue away.

“D-Don’t stop.”

You paused, searching his eyes.

He hadn’t really confessed it before.

“It’s hot,” Jungkook panted. “When you do stuff like t-that.”

He squeezed your breasts to help get his point access but also for comfort as you scrutinized him, uncertain if he was sincere or not. Fair enough.

“Like what?” you asked, prompting him to clarify.

Heart racing, hot all over, adrenaline and fear fueling his pleasure, because there was something wonderfully dangerous about this territory. He had some inkling, but before he didn’t really bother to ask too much. You always did what you wanted to and naturally it leant to a certain power dynamic, but you never asked to take it further than sporadic, fleeting moments. And, well, Jungkook had never thought about how it would feel to admit out loud that that part of you it turned him on.

It would feel embarrassing, and yet he was enticed by that rush.

Aroused by it.

“When you treat me like you own me.”

Your eyes on his, not breaking the gaze.

Reaching up, running your fingers though his hair, sending tingles down his spine.

“Do you want me to own you a little?” you murmured.

He reached up and closed your fingers around a fistful of his hair.

“Maybe a little more than a little.”

You tugged.

The sting of pain, moan tumbling from his mouth, his hand falling, circling your waist.

Closer.

“I can take more,” he whispered to your lips.

You pulled and closed your hand over his erection fighting his jeans and Jungkook felt his whole body electrify, bucking his hips to your fingers and seeking your lips, but there was no kiss, only a controlled stream of breath to swallow, and the groan bubbled up in his ribcage. Alive. Raw pleasure. Intoxicated, driven by ferocious need, his fumbling hands undoing the button of his jeans, forcing down the zipper, everything being pushed down, and then it was your hand to his hot, taut skin, flicking your wrist by his head to deliver a shot of pain and a stroke of pleasure from the other, torn between the two sensations and the lightheaded feeling of your forceful breath pushing the air out of his lungs, forgetting that he could breathe from his nose, didn’t want to anyway, living was only living when it was on this hazy thin oxygen from your exhale.

Yes, Jungkook was pants down, shirtless, letting you jack him off and pull on his hair as you breathed into his mouth.

That was not how he thought this conversation would end but he was not taking any second of it for granted, rubbing your nipples, kneading your breasts, making sure you felt pleasure too, but the thing that seemed to make you smile most was the sounds he made, so Jungkook upped the desperation level in his tone and tucked his hips back slightly, changing the angle of your stroke.

“Fuck, yes, lower, closer to the head, fuuuuck, right there, a-ah…”

And you knew it all, the right pressure, the steady build up from slow to fast, until you had to focus and simply clutched his head, digging your nails into his scalp, panting against his shaking lips, fast and intense pressure consuming him, chasing the glorious high, closer and closer and closer.

He pinched your hard nipples and rubbed the tips, moaning unashamedly and probably too loud, keeping his lower body rigid so you could control the pace, your name tumbling out of his mouth, deep, needy, looking down to watch your hand firmly wrapped around his stiff cock, the head dark red and pleasure throbbing up his torso, you’re so good, fuck, you’re so fucking good, your breasts in his hands, perfect, groan pitching to helpless whine, almost…

You stopped.

“Fuck!”

His entire body jerked as you squeezed and simply froze at the very last second, at literally the singular point of almost no return and you stopped, and he was too far gone to be ashamed of the pathetic whimpering he was doing now, gripping your hand around his twitching length and nonsensically begging you to continue, but the moment was gone and, by the look of your devious smirk, it was all on purpose.

Fuck!

In his horny-induced haze, Jungkook attempted his best puppy eyes.

Your hand slid down his head and traced his jaw.

“I’m not gonna let you cum on the floor,” you teased.

He pulled a pout. “Come on… It’s not like floors can’t be cleaned.”

Your grip pulsed around his cock so hard he nearly gasped in pain.

“You’re not going to last if you cum once before pussy.”

Okay.

You were right, but the truth didn’t make Jungkook happy.

Not until he was balls deep into you, condom wrapper falling from his hand, you taking the moment to stretch your legs over his torso casually, adjusting your hips under him, and then he was deeper, surrounded on all sides by silky wet warmth that pulsated around him, so good his head involuntarily tipped back, his hair trickling his shoulders as he slid out a little and then back in.

Oh.

God.

He was very happy now.

“F-Fuck… I hate this position… you f-feel too fucking g-good…”

“It’s just missionary.”

He jerked his head down to see you smirking at him. Looking smug fully naked, juicy thighs flush to his abs and your body was essentially folded in half as he leaned down, sucking in a breath as your pussy clamped around his length, slow and controlled and every centimeter gripped tight like his dick owned money.

“You have the most control in this position,” he puffed.

“You wanted it,” you hummed.

Jungkook squinted in mock suspicion. Then he gave up on the act rather quickly.

“Yeah, I want you.”

Slid out and back in, shuddering.

“I don’t want anyone else but you.” Pleasure snaking through him with every thrust, breathless, slow and deep at first, but gradually adding power, harder and rougher, smacking hips to crotch, erotic electricity all over, his hair falling over his eyes, looking down, staring into yours. “I know I’m balls deep right now, but you have to believe me.”

You reached up.

And.

Patted him on the cheek.

“Jungkook, we can have the deep talk after the two minutes it takes for you to finish. I promise,” you assured cheerfully with a smile.

Hey!

He scrunched up his face and glared at you. “Excuse me, I last longer than two minutes–”

You planted your hands onto the mattress and thrust up into him. He choked at the sudden slingshot of ecstasy that pierced through him and his entire tirade about how he was going to last way longer because you technically edged him which was very mean by the way, yeah, all that was instantly forgotten as you tightened your jaw and all around him, creating an insane pace that his body immediately followed, too much carnal instinct and not enough sanity, the sound between you and him suddenly louder, wetter, rhythmic smacks and panting gasps, your mouth opening and your pink tongue licking the air, hint of a smirk at the periphery of your lips, and Jungkook felt like he should be mad about that, but it was turning him on more, fuck, he felt his cock twitch as he watched that agile tongue writhe, teasing sin, he was doomed, he was one of those freaky people that was into this stuff now.

That was what he got for admitting the truth.

Your hand shot up and you tangled your fingers in his long hair, gripping his head to get the leverage to fully fuck him from below plus add the aching pain of your nails digging into the scalp to the torrent of sensations ransacking him right now.

He groaned and his eyes rolled back, the orgasm slamming into him.

All over him, shooting out all over his nerves, potent pleasure so powerful that his hips bucked and shivered, only pure will allowing him to continue thrusting, but it appeared you had been holding back, oh fuck, skyrocketing his shivering orgasm to uncontrollable crashing waves from every throb of your walls, the slickness between your bodies painting onto his inner thighs and crotch, your name torn from his throat, low and hoarse and raw, drowning in the most concentrated bliss he knew, drenched in sex and sweat, wishing it was forever.

It always ended too soon.

Fuck.

“Um.”

You sat in front of him, wrapped in blankets as he was wrapped in his own cocoon of blankets, watching his lips twist and shift, looking uneasy.

“I’m super serious,” Jungkook finally settled. “About starting over. I mean, I know we just…”

“Fucked like a bad porn storyline?” you offered.

He winced, shifting his eyes. "Er. Yeah."

You dropped the jokes. “I’m serious too. Let’s start again. I learned my lesson. No more surprises.” You sharply poked his knee through the blanket. “But you have to talk to me. Whatever it is. Even if you think I don’t wanna know. Uncomfortable or not, better sooner than later. And I will do the same.” You nodded, more yourself than him, promising to hold yourself to it. Kept your gaze on him so he knew you were serious about doing so. You took it all in, messy black hair, big brown eyes, dreams of what could be. You and him could make the impossible, possible.

You and him only had to put the effort in.

“I wanna know everything about you, Jungkook.”

There was real worry reflected back at you. “What if it’s not good?”

You shrugged. “I already knew you weren’t good. I went on one date with one guy and you were already stalking me.”

His brows furrowed in indignation. “Hey, I happened to stumble onto your date by chance!”

“Oh, yeah, and by chance you followed us all the way to my apartment?” you countered.

His jaw flapped. “W… W-Well…”

You raised your eyebrows. Both of them.

Very high.

He puffed one cheek and looked away. “I just… hadn’t decided what to do…” he mumbled. “Or how serious you were, because if you were super serious, I wasn’t going to talk to you…”

You blinked in fake disbelief.

Jungkook muttered something like, I meant I wasn’t gonna try to sleep with you or anything if you were dating another guy... Mmm. You poked him. He shifted his eyes. Then ticked his chin at you.

“What about you, huh? You did it too.”

You shrugged. “Yeah, I did. I didn’t start dating you only because you’re cute, you know.”

He blinked in confusion.

You shrugged. “Fucking is important to me in a relationship. You always wanna fuck me. That’s what I want. Especially now that you admitted that you want me to own your ass in bed, making you even more appealing. Mmm. We have to explore that more.” You nodded sagely, greatly satisfied with your decision. “Therefore, I will talk to Gunhak in the morning.”

Jungkook sputtered, cocooning himself further into the thick blankets, slowly turning red. “That’s… W-Well… I wouldn’t date you unless I thought that you were the hottest woman that’s ever existed...”

You cupped your hand around your ear. “Pardon? Jeon Jungkook, are you saying that you’re shallow?”

“I’m not shallow, don’t twist my words!”

“I can twist something else–”

“Stop, t-that’s scary, don’t come under here! Hey!”

masterpost

#jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts smut #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you #jeon jungkook smut

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