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onlyjaeyun · 2 months

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𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐒 – 𝟒𝟒

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐓𝐘𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑: 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞

⤥ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

⤥ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬!𝐀𝐔

⤥ 𝐰𝐜: 𝟔.𝟖𝐤

⤥ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: 𝐀 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐚𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐞, 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐞𝐬. 𝐀 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐧 𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐲'𝐬 𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐤.

“No fucking way!”

The exclamation of excitement reaches your ears before your brain can process the feeling of Jungwon’s weight basically falling onto your body as he wraps his arms around your shoulders and starts laughing in response to his birthday gift.

All you can do is join in on his laughter, tightening the hug and embracing the comfort it comes with.

“Thank you so fucking much”, Jungwon says and pulls away, the plane tickets firmly in his hands as he looks at you with big, excited eyes and his cheeks covered in the sweetest shade of pink.

“Don’t expect anything like this for the next five years, though”, you joke and embrace your adopted sibling into another tight hug, making sure to keep your eyes closed because the mere thought of meeting Sunghoon’s gaze makes your heartbeat double its pace.

There’s been this very significant yet subtle shift in the way he’s looking at you and although the two of you have been spending quite a bit of time around each other, you have yet to get used to it all. However, you’re in no way complaining about it because for the first time in almost a decade, you don’t feel this specific heaviness weighing on your chest whenever he’s around.

The past few weeks have definitely not been easy for you. No matter how healing and relieving the conversation with your brother about your past life choices was, you have yet to find the courage to face the one person you’ve been avoiding as much as possible lately, only for life to challenge you with his constant presence around you.

You still feel as attracted to Sunghoon as you did before the friendsmas dinner almost two months ago, maybe even more now that you’ve finally accepted the fact that you want him in many more ways than just sexually.

It definitely wasn’t easy for you to admit this to yourself and took you about three different and very lengthy conversations with your closest people but the longer you’ve thought about it, the more you’ve realized that there’s not really a point in denying your feelings any longer.

You want Park Sunghoon.

In the deepest bits of your heart you know no guy who’s entered and left your life has ever managed to even come close to him, but these are thoughts you’ve been a little more hesitant to explore. The thought of him becoming the one in your heart after years of hating him scares you, so much you’ve only ever said it out loud once to yourself in the darkness of your room after crying for hours over all the time you both won’t ever get back.

Park Sunghoon was the first boy to break your heart, yet even after all these years you’ve remained deeply in love with him. Some people might question your sanity, your mental and emotional wellbeing as well as your rational thinking, but to you it’s him. It’s always been him.

You have yet to figure out why exactly, but one thing you’ve always been subconsciously aware of is that your deep, vile hatred has always had its root in the pure, innocent love you’ve been carrying in your heart ever since he entered your life all those years ago.

There’s just something so special about him, which might be the reason why his lack of communication, his betrayal and the way he’s been treating you all these years hurts as much as it does.

You know there’s no point in wondering, guessing and imagining things when all you have to do is just talk to him, something all of your mutual friends have been very adamant about for the past few weeks (probably even years if you’re being fully honest to yourself).

But how come the only right way to finally receive all the answers and explanations to the question marks in your mind feels like the hardest thing you’ve ever had to do in your life? Why is it this scary?

Maybe it’s because you’ve never felt this strongly about all the other men in your life, not even the ones you had convinced yourself to be in love with and maybe it’s because the possibility of things not working out in the end has already broken your poor heart into thousands of pieces.

Every time your eyes find their way to the ring on your finger, one of the most meaningful and sentimental gifts you’ve ever received, you remember that after everything, Sunghoon knows a part of you which you’ve been keeping locked away and protected for way too long. To him, you’re not just a friend, you never have been. To him, you’re you. You’re an individual, your own person. In moments where the whole world was expecting something from you, to be a certain way or do and say certain things, Sunghoon was the one to just sit back and watch, cheer you on from the sidelines because his trust in you was endless. He always knew you’d find your way through it all.

When you first started to have thoughts like these, it felt wrong because you thought you’d discredit your friends and their places in your life, their undying support and love, only to realize that of everyone you’ve ever known, Sunghoon was the first one to believe in you.

He was there when Riki was too young to even understand what was going on, he was there when you had nobody. He was the first one to stay.

The more your eyes meet, the deeper the desire to just be close to him, feel his touch on your skin and lose yourself in the comfort it comes with, runs and you can’t help but allow yourself to catch a tiny glimpse of him from the corner of your eye.

“Stop staring, you’re being so obvious”, Jaeyun suddenly whispers into your ear, the sheer shock of hearing his usually so soothing voice in the midst of your daydreams is enough to pull you back into reality, “he’s not being subtle either, I can’t believe y’all had us fooled for so long. No wonder you guys got to fuck next door, I would have never noticed if I was drunk right now.”

With your eyes widened in absolute disbelief you slowly turn your head to the side to look at your best friend only to realize just how close he is.

“That’s a little too close”, Jaeyun jokes smiles charmingly, knowing that there’s one person in the room whose sole attention has been on you for the past five hours, “I really really don’t want him to beat me up again so, meet me in the kitchen.”

“Again? What does that mean? Jaeyun, where are you–”, but you don’t get to finish your whisper shouted questions as he casually jumps onto his feet and suddenly disappears in the hallway, leaving you no choice but to do as you’re told.

With everyone’s focus remaining on each other, except for Sunghoon’s (of course), you slowly get up and make your way to the kitchen, your heart brutally hammering against your chest as you try to think of possible scenarios for the upcoming few minutes.

As soon as you close the door behind you, Jake’s lips stretch into a big smile, his eyes turning into little half moons as the excitement becomes evident in every single one of his facial muscles.

“What–”, “For the love of whatever or whoever you believe in, please just talk to him”, your best friend is quick to throw the reason for his request into your face and all you can do is look at him with raised brows and widened eyes.

“Don’t you dare look ag me like I’m the crazy one when you two have been eyefucking each other for hours and I had to witness it all because I promised not to drink and it’s actually awful”, Jaeyun rambles, his usually so relaxed expressions are drenched in confusion, his whole body language lets you know just how much this has been weighing on him and if it wasn’t for the things he just said, you would have actually felt bad for him.

It takes you a few moments to process everything he just dropped onto you, but as soon as your brain has managed to catch up, you can’t stop the huge mixture of emotions from hitting you in all the right places.

“Jaeyun, I don’t know if I’m ready”, you whisper and feel the tears announcing their arrival as they burn in between your eyes.

“That’s what you think”, Jake sighs and rolls his eyes, behavior you’re actually not used to receiving from your usually so soft spoken best friend, “you’re more than just ready for this, my dearest friend. You’ve actually been waiting for this conversation for over nine years. Please, stop running away from this, from him.”

Usually Sim Jaeyun leaves you speechless with the rather out of pocket things he tends to say in the most inappropriate moments, yet this time he’s managed to leave you absolutely shocked with his honesty.

You don’t know what to say, nor do you have any idea how to react or what to do, but in the deepest pits of your gut you feel genuinely relieved to hear your hidden wishes to be confirmed.

Knowing that Sunghoon’s behavior towards you isn’t just a fabrication of your wishful thinking has taken a huge weight off of your shoulders and for the first time in weeks, the fog in your head clears up and you allow yourself to push all those doubts, worries and worst case scenarios into the darkest corner of your mind and focus on what your heart actually wants.

“Okay”, you whisper and take a deep breath, “you’re fucking right.”

“Fuck yeah, I am! Let’s fucking go!”

Jaeyun is quick to burst into loud cheers and words of enthusiasm in response to your agreement and with a soft sigh you wrap your arms around his neck and quietly thank him for his support.

You’re very well aware that the past two months have been quite difficult for your best friends too, especially the boys. Navigating your as well as Sunghoon’s emotional state couldn’t have been easy for three of the biggest empaths you know and knowing that they’ve spent all this time looking for solutions and the right ways to approach these sorts of things is something you feel incredibly grateful for.

“I’m gonna send him to our place now”, Jake explains once you get yourself to let go of him, “give me fifteen minutes to distract these fuckers, send the love birds to Seung’s place and give you guys all the space and time you need..and deserve.”

With those words your best friend quickly rushes out of the kitchen, leaving you behind with nothing but hope and excitement in your chest.

“Hoo–”, “Stop yelling, I’m here”, Sunghoon quickly interrupts his best friend as he randomly appears on the other side of the hallway, not brave and shameless enough to eavesdrop, yet anxious enough to wait in close proximity.

“Batshit”, is the only thing Jake responds with as the shock of Hoon’s sudden presence sends shivers down his spine.

“What did she say? She hates me, doesn't she? She never wants to spend another day talking to me or even in my presence, does she? Tell me the fucking truth, Jaeyun”, Sunghoon nervously rambles and subconsciously wraps his hand around his friend’s arm, pulling him closer as the feeling of his lungs hyperventilating becomes too overwhelming.

The past two months have been something close to hell.

When Sunoo reminded him of Jungwon’s birthday a few days earlier, Sunghoon was shocked since he’s been mentally stuck on mid December, his brain constantly replaying the events of the friendsmas dinner to make sure he doesn’t actually forget about it.

Of course he’s spent most nights talking to his best friends to figure something out, yet even after all this time he has no actual plan on what to say, do or even think.

He’s already accepted the fact that he’s never actually stopped loving you. The realisation that behind his deep hatred for you was simply because of how much he’s loved you all this time was one of the hardest pills he’s ever had to swallow. Almost a decade of genuine denial later he’s found himself in a headspace he has never, ever experienced before and if it wasn’t for the boys trying their very best to keep him distracted, he would have lost his mind already.

Most of his days were spent at the gym and work, places he knew he wasn’t going to be in agonizing pain because of your presence and yet he’s always caught himself looking forward to practice day because it meant he’d finally get to be close to you again, even if you guys never talked about anything but the most necessary things.

Maybe it’s because of how ashamed he is for all the things he’s done and said to you in the past and maybe it’s because his heart actually can’t handle the constant pain pumping through his veins whenever he’s near you.

Never in his life has he wanted anyone as bad as you

At first, Sunghoon was convinced it’s because you’ve all he’s ever known but the more time passed, the more he realized that it’s because you’re his person.

He’s already accepted the possibility of not being yours and he knows he could never be angry with you if that was the case.

Sunghoon’s just…tired. Mentally, physically and emotionally exhausted of the constant pretending, the hate and anger, all the pent up frustration and not knowing where he stands with you. You guys used to be best friends only for life and that god awful human being of a stepmother to tear you apart and turn you into actual enemies.

The mere thought of what might have been if he had only received that letter and never had to force himself to hate you makes his heart ache.

All these years could have been spent making life decisions together, being there for the other when they needed it the most and all those hurtful words could have been avoided.

But Sunghoon has no choice but to accept that this is how things went and there’s absolutely no way to undo and unsay everything and if it wasn’t for his acceptance of the whole situation, he would have spent even more nights laying awake wondering why life had to make him go through all of this.

Why life had to make you go through all of this.

If there’s one thing Sunghoon’s gonna struggle the most to accept, it’s the fact that he didn’t get to be by your side to comfort and hold you during your darkest times. All the times where Riki knocked on his door to cry himself to sleep in his arms because he didn’t want to burden you were the times where Sunghoon was silently praying that one of the boys had thought of you as the mental image of you going through all of that pain by yourself was enough to torture him mercilessly.

You’re strong; stronger than anyone he’s ever met. You always find a way to survive and make the best of everything life throws your way, that’s just how you are. that’s how you’ve programmed yourself to be. No matter what or who, you always know what to do, say and how to make everyone happy, even if it means sacrificing your own happiness for it.

Nobody has ever loved him the way you do simply because there’s nobody who loves as deeply, as genuinely and purely as you do. It definitely took him a while to understand this, but after watching the way everyone in your closest circle treats you Sunghoon has realised that they simply mirror your behavior towards them and it was that moment where he started genuinely missing you. Not just the way you used to love and care for him, but you as a person.

Your energy, so calm and comforting, something he’s never experienced with anyone before.

Maybe that’s why he’s so scared of losing you – again. It’s not like he’s actually got you back in his life yet but the mere thought of you avoiding him at all cost once you all graduate and live your new lives as adults makes his whole body go into panic mode.

He’d rather be close to you from this distance than risk it, but he knows he has to talk to you about all of this.

Sunghoon knows he owes you this, not only your current self but that twelve year old girl who cried herself to sleep because she didn’t understand why her best friend suddenly turned his back on her after she’s just given up her biggest dream.

And first and foremost: he owes this conversation to his own inner child.

Everyone involved in this situation deserves their own version of closure and no matter how much he hates verbal confrontation, Sunghoon is more than just willing to put his own comfort last to give you what you deserve.

With a soft sigh and a thin veil of tears blurring his vision, Sunghoon stares at his best friend and patiently waits for him to respond, not quite sure what he wants to hear.

“Go to our place”, Jaeyun suddenly says, his big hands gently grabbing Sunghoon’s face as he looks at his closest friend with a genuine, encouraging smile, “she’s agreed to talk to you tonight. I’m gonna send her up there and distract everyone else. Just go, I’ve got this covered.”

Hoonie doesn’t even get the opportunity to thank Jake as he turns around and disappears in the living room, hyping the remaining members of your group up and doing exactly what he’s just reassured him of.

Exhaling deeply, Sunghoon finally manages to find enough courage to make his way to the floor above yours, into his own home.

The following ten minutes feel like the longest ten minutes he’s ever experienced and as the silence of his apartment and late february night slowly become his nightmare, his breath hitches in his throat the second his ears catch up on your footsteps on the other side of the door.

You don’t know how long it takes you to find enough courage to knock on the door of Jaeyun’s and Sunghoon’s shared apartment, but after what feels like an eternity to both you and your former skating partner, you finally get yourself to let go of all the worries and take a deep breath.

However, you feel yourself choking on that exact breath as the door slowly opens and you’re met with the sight of none other than Park Sunghoon. Your first love, your first best friend, the first person who’s ever made you feel worthy of love and affection at the age of six.

Different than you had expected of yourself, you physically can’t stop yourself from looking straight into his face.

Maybe it’s because after all these years of hating his features, you finally see nothing but the young, innocent little boy who didn’t know any better than pushing the ones who hurt him as far away as possible to protect his tiny heart.

Your eyes nervously roam his breathtakingly beautiful features, the usually so stoic and cold expression in his eyes replaced by nothing but softness. It’s not necessarily something you haven’t seen before, since it’s how he looks at his boys and the people he cares about, it’s the fact that after all this time, it’s aimed at you and nobody else.

Sunghoon doesn’t say anything. All he does is take a step to the side with his eyes firmly focused on the floor as he waits for you to walk into the familiar living room and hopefully are the initiator of the whole conversation.

But he knows you won’t be.

There’s something gleaming in the soft colour of your eyes which tells him what exactly your expectations are of this and for some reason a sense of pride washes over him.

No words are spoken as you sit down on the armchair you had gifted them at their housewarming party, the feeling of being all alone in this apartment with just him feeling weirdly comforting to you.

But then again, you’re not very surprised because one thing about Park Sunghoon is that he’s always going to make you feel at ease, no matter where you are.

For a moment it feels like his heart is going to break its way through his rib cage as the pace of his heartbeats increase by the minute, but as soon as Sunghoon finds enough courage to lift his head and look into your eyes, he realises that this is the moment he’s been waiting for all this time.

“I’m sorry.”

The first thing to fall past his lips is an apology, something neither one of you has expected, yet he knows there’s no other way to start this conversation.

“You don’t have to–”, “Don’t – please, don’t trivialize me or my behavior”, Sunghoon is quick to stop you from doing the one thing he’s always scolded you for back when you two used to be close, something you’ve always struggled with as the wish to be loved and appreciated by the people you care for always overshadowed the feelings you’re entitled to.

“I’m sorry, Y/N”, he begins again, the usage of your name sending chills down your whole body as you attentively wait for him to continue at his own pace, “for everything.”

You don’t respond.

Sunghoon knows it’s not because you don’t have anything to say but because you know him well enough to give him the time he needs to process the mess in his head.

“The day of the competition, the one we’ve practiced so long and hard for, I was so excited”, Sunghoon can’t help the smile forming on his lips as all the memories from the favorite time of his life come flooding back, “I knew we were going to kill and make it to the nationals, everyone knew this. But it wasn’t what everyone else was expecting of us, you know I never gave a fuck about any of them.”

All you can do is nod, your body tense as the blood starts thrumming in your ears.

“I was already surprised that we didn’t pick you up on our way to the competition but my mother just said that your siblings would tag along, which is why you guys had to take your car instead of ours, so I didn’t think much of it, until I was already changed and ready, waiting for you to join me on the ice rink during the warm up.”

A deep sigh follows his little story and you can tell from the way he’s rubbing his knuckles just how much patience and willpower it’s taking him to maintain his calm demeanor.

“When I finally saw that fucking monster, I actually felt relieved because I thought she was going to tell me that you’re getting ready and not to worry, but boy was I fucking wrong”, it’s then that his anger finally makes itself visible as the tips of his ears start turning red, his hands now nervously playing with his rings and you actually appreciate how hard he’s trying to keep his composure a lot more than he probably thinks, “I can’t actually believe how naive I was because deep down I knew you would have never done this to me. You were my best friend, the only person I’ve ever let close to my heart.”

It’s his affirmation of your feelings being reciprocated which becomes the trigger for your tears and before you can actually comprehend what’s happening, you feel a single tear leaving a hot trail on your cheek as it makes its way down to your chin, but all you can do is remain as silent as before.

“I guess the anxiety and excitement from the competition clouded my brain because when that bitch told me about how you had decided to quit partner skating because you never actually wanted to do it with me, I didn’t even think that she might be lying. Which is kind of ironic because I never actually believed her anything before that because I always knew what kind of person she is.”

You can tell how much he’s been thinking about his decisions from that day, how much it’s been getting to him and just how much he’s been struggling to accept his mistakes.

Sunghoon has always been his biggest critic, heÄs always been the hardest on himself and while back then you never understood why he chose to be like this to himself, you now know it’s because of the constant state of competition he’s been put under ever since his very first day on this earth.

If there’s one thing his parents have never even tried to hide, it’s their favoritism towards Sunghoon’s older brother, their golden child. You still remember all those times you could barely stand on your feet after a long day of practice, where Hoon would beg you to stay a little longer because he hadn’t perfected a move, his father’s hawk like eyes constantly spotting a new mistake, running the young boy’s self worth and perception. No matter how hard he tried, it was never good enough for his father and even if Sunghoon had accepted this back in his teens, you can still tell how much it’s still affecting him, breaking your heart into millions of pieces.

“So, they started announcing our names and everyone was looking at me”, another deep sigh falls past his lips, his eyes nervously roaming your face, yet skillfully skipping yours as the shame and guilt suddenly becomes more overwhelming than before, “that was the moment I knew I wasn’t gonna listen to whatever you had to say. I was so heartbroken, so angry, I just…didn’t know what to do, so I decided to distance myself from you. To be really honest with you, I never even realized how much I started hating until a lot later but at that point it was too late, the feeling of being betrayed by you, my dearest friend, was simply too much and every single thing I had felt before turned into anger and hatred.”

Sunghoon takes a deep breath and finally lifts his head, his longing eyes meeting yours as you watch the tip of his nose redden, a sight you’re definitely not used to and yet find some kind of comfort in. The fact he’s not holding anything back, not even his tears, calms you down because as the tears are streaming down your cheeks, you know you’re finally being listened to and understood.

“I hated you, so fucking much”, he breathes and runs both of his hands through his thick hair, “you used to be the only person I’ve trusted and seeing you live your life like you didn’t stab me in the back made me so furious, so mad all I wanted was to hurt you. I wanted you to be in just as much pain as me because I thought – I never could have imagined what you had gone through and by the time I was actually mature enough, my ego took over and your presence brought out the worst version of me.”

To hear everything from his perspective feels like he’s ripping up all of your old wounds, yet also healing the ones hidden underneath as he finally gives you the closure you had longed for, for so long.

“Everything I’ve said about you and in your face, everything I’ve done these past few years were because I was too hurt to even think about listening to your version of the whole story and I – don’t know how to even ask for your forgiveness, Y/N. All these years I spent badmouthing and belittling, borderline harassing and humiliating you are in no way excusable and I take full accountability for it. Even if I regret it all right now, I can’t take back all the pain I’ve caused you, no matter how guilty I feel.”

Sunghoon, as usual, chooses his words wisely, every single one of them well thought through as he tries to think of all the things he’s wanted to tell you.

“You know, deep down I always knew that I never actually hated you because no matter how hard I fucking tried, I always found myself wondering if you need anything, if you’re being taken care of, listened to. And I don’t think you have any idea how badly I wanted to be in the boys’ place and just hold you in my arms, tell you that everything’s going to be okay because you always make it through whatever life throws your way.”

His sudden confession definitely takes you aback and it’s then that you realize just how hard you’ve been crying. Usually you’d push yourself into survival mode and suppress all your tears for later, the urge to hide your emotions and especially your vulnerability, something you’ve perfected over the years, only for all of your hard work to be gone in front of Park Sunghoon, of all people.

“The night of Seung’s birthday”, Sunghoon gulps harshly as the memories from that particular moment hit him at full force, “I felt like a fucking monster. Nothing I say or do can justify, excuse or make up for the fact that I treated you the way I did and I guess that’s why I’m still struggling to find the right words to apologize.”

At first, you don’t hear the shaking in his voice as you try to focus on regulating your own breathing all while listening to him, yet as soon as his voice breaks off at the of his sentence, you snap back into reality and feel your heart aching at the sight of Sunghoon’s tears.

“I’ve caused so much damage, so much pain, I don’t – I don’t know how to – what to do or say, Y/N. But no matter what you choose to do after tonight, I’m gonna spend my whole life trying whatever it takes to be worthy of your forgiveness.”

You carefully watch the way he almost aggressively wipes away his tears, a desperate attempt to control his emotions and the longer you look at him, the calmer you become.

“There’s so much more I want to say but I just – I can’t find the right words because no words will ever do justice for the apology you deserve, Y/N”, Sunghoon takes another deep breath, “so please, just…say something, anything.”

The physical distance between the two of you isn’t bigger than a single step, yet you still find yourself getting up on your feet to sit down right next to him, your whole body shaking as all the things you wanna say to him rush through your mind before you look up to meet the eyes you’ve been running away for longer than you can remember, the comfort they come with so familiar, you can’t believe it’s actually been that long since you’ve last allowed yourself to get lost in the sweetest shade of brown you’ve ever seen.

“You know”, you begin quietly, too scared your voice might break if you speak up, “the first few days after that fuck up of a dinner party, I thought I could never forgive you, but the more I thought about you, the more I realised how badly I wanted you back in my life.”

Your words send jolts of warmth straight in Sunghoon’s chest, his heart feeling heavy as you crush all of his worries with just a single sentence, the way you’ve always done.

“I can’t lie and deny just how much you’ve hurt me, Sunghoon”, the urge to reach for his pretty face and pull him close to you feels overwhelming and you still manage to suppress it all as you focus on the things you know you have to get off of your chest first.

“I’m not even referring to the constant bickering and bad mouthing because everyone we both know, knows I did it just as much and bad as you, so I guess we’re even when it comes to that”, you can’t help but chuckle, the sound easily eliciting a soft giggle from the usually so stoic young man, taking even more weight off of your chest.

“That night of Seung’s birthday, I did what I did because I thought I deserved it and the first few times afterwards I craved the pain you caused because it was the only thing keeping me alive after the breakup with Jaemin”, you feel the tears pricking at the corners of your eyes and just as you’re about to swallow them, you watch Sunghoon throw his head back with a soft sob, tears streaming down his temples as he tries to comprehend the fact that his biggest fear had become reality.

Because deep down, he always knew you had used him to punish yourself, because nothing was as disgusting and humiliating as sleeping with someone who had spent so much time treating you like actual shit. Sunghoon never wanted to admit this to himself, simply to save and protect his own heart, so to hear you admit it like this has managed to shatter his world all over again.

“But then…you started kissing me, holding my face and my hands, you even once told me how pretty I looked and I got so confused because you weren’t supposed to make me feel worthy of it all but you did. And the best thing about it all was, you barely ever said anything. It was your actions which showed me how much you regretted leaving me like that after the whole shit show in the lockers room.”

You feel heat creeping up in your neck as all the memories from your moments of intimacy come rushing back but with a soft sigh you look up and realize how much Sunghoon’s been crying, so without overthinking it too much, you reach for his face, gently caressing his damp cheek only for him to quickly place a bunch of soft kisses into your palm as your touch manages to calm down his hitched breathing.

It’s like the world has gone to sleep to give you both all the time and space you need to process lal these weird, never experienced feelings and for the first time in your life, your brain has managed to quiet down.

“It took me a while to understand why I felt the way I did but that night in Tokyo, where you let me fall asleep in your arms, I finally knew”, you never once avert your gaze from his as you try to take deep breaths in hopes of him imitating you, a soft smile creeping up on your face when Sunghoon does just that and before another set of tears can find their way down his cheeks, you take his face into your hands.

“It’s because after all these years, you still feel like home, Sunghoon”, you whisper as your vision gets blurry and the lump in your throat doubles in its size, “you’ve always been my home and you know that.”

And with those words, you manage to not only break his heart into thousands of pieces but actually heal every single open wound in the deepest bits of his cold heart, something he’s been longing for all his life.

“I’m so, so sorry”, he suddenly sobs and tries to move out of your hands, only for you to gently tighten your grip enough to stop his movements, knowing you need him to look at you for all the things you’ve still got to say to be valid.

You’ve waited for this moment for so long, you weren’t gonna let this opportunity go, no matter how much more heartbreaking and gut wrenching it’s bound to become.

“You hurt me”, you say confidently, nto ready to give in just yet, not even to torture him but because you promised yourself to never, ever let yourself down like you’ve always done, “you broke my heart, over and over again. Every time you said something to or about me, you reminded me why my heart had gone so cold and I also wanted you to be in pain. You deserved to be humbled and put in your place for all the things you’ve said to me so I won’t apologize for any of it because even if it wasn’t right, I felt justified in my behavior and so did you, Hoonie.”

At the sound of his favorite nickname in your voice after almost a whole decade of deprivation, Sunghoon’s ears perk up and despite the agonizing pain in his chest, he feels a sense of comfort embrace him in a way only you’ve ever been able to provide him with.

“I haven’t forgiven you”, you quickly clarify, more to yourself than him since the little voice in the back of your head is still filled with rage and the bitter feeling of betrayal and humiliation, whereas your heart has finally started to bloom with nothing but love and adoration for the one and only man you’ve ever felt connected to.

“You don’t have to–”, “Yet. I haven’t forgiven you yet, Hoonie. It’s gonna take a bit for me to get over the whole lockers room part and also some of the things you’ve said because no matter how much you feel like home, the wounds are fresh and they burn. And I know yours do too, which is okay. I know we’re going to make it through this.”

Sunghoon looks at you with genuine shock and surprise fleming in his eyes, followed by a gentle layer of deep sadness the longer he looks at you.

“It’s gonna take a while but we’ve also grown a lot since then, we have a lot of catching up to do, right?”

The enthusiasm and confidence in your voice manage to ease his heart completely now and before Sunghoon can overthink any of it, the one question he’s been suppressing for God knows how long finally makes its way to your ears.

“Can I – hug you?”

For a moment Hoon’s genuinely worried about your reaction, only for you to nod and almost overwhelmingly quickly wrap your arms around his shoulders.

As you bury your face in his neck, you can feel his whole body losing every bit of tension, his strong arms finding their way around your waist, pulling you even closer and a row of soft sighs from the both of you filing the empty space of the quiet living room.

Neither one of you dares to say anything, not a single word. For a moment, you’re afraid that all of this might have been a dream as all the exhaustion and tiredness overwhelms your brain, pushing you into a headspace you’ve never been in before.

Maybe this is what it means to be held by the one you love.

After what feels like an eternity, Sunghoon gently pulls away just enough to keep you as close to his body as possible, his hands carefully holding your face as if he feared to break you like a fragile piece of glass when handled too harshly.

You lose track of time as your former best friend lets his eyes roam your face, memorizing the features he’s had to admire from afar, finally up close,his soft breaths fanning against your warm skin and if it wasn’t for the adrenaline rushing through your veins, you would have fallen asleep right then and there.

“You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever had the privilege to lay my eyes on”, Sunghoon whispers and nudges the tip of his nose against yours, “and I hope that I get the honor of loving you not just in this lifetime, but every single one, Y/N. You know I never did, yet I will spend the rest of my life praying that destiny has written my name next to yours in every single universe because just thinking about loving someone who’s not you hurts my heart. My soul’s been longing to come home, snowflake, thank you for taking my hand and showing me the way back to where I belong.”

“H-Hoonie, I–”, “You don’t have to say it back, not now and not ever. Just keep looking at me with those eyes, will you, my love?”

All you can do is nod as Sunghoon pulls you into another tight hug, this time laying down on the couch, emotional and mental exhaustion overcoming the both of you and even if there’s still so much to say, you know that after tonight, everything’s going to happen when time’s right and as you slowly drift into the most peaceful sleep you’ve ever had, Hoonie’s gentle confession echoes in your head like the sweetest lullaby you’ve ever heard.

← 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 — 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 — 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 →

(A/N: i can't believe i'm finally back after exactly two weeks. this might not be what some of you guys expected but i'm very, very happy with how this turned out and i genui hope you guys love it just as much. i can't even thank you guys enough for all your love, support and patience, as well as all the reassurance and encouragement you've been sending my way. i love and appreciate you all so, so much and i can't even explain how full of love my heart is for you all. thank you thank you thank you thank you 🤍💐☁️✨)

TAGLIST: @soonigiri @en-happiness @lhsvibez @dammit-jjk @heerinnie @primroselover @jungwon-xo @szkstay @lostwonderwall @hoonieluv @certifiedmoa @doodlelibrary @ikeuizm @kpoprhia @sleeping-demons @imtoanonymousforyou @lalalovejay @ineedsomezzz @xrr-s4sha @viagumi @electrobutterfly @mimikittysblog @blurryriki @heelcvr @wonkifangirl @joonzseoulmate @kwiwin @hoondiors @seuomo @zerasari @love-you-twice @aloverga @marz-mars @velvtcherie @niniissus @abrazosolorcereza @ddazed-lhs @acphengene @skz-streamer @kshoshi @tya0 @yizhoutv @jebetwo @myheelody @seokgyuu @blockbusterhee @luvkpopp @heeslut4life

#enhypen smau #enhypen sm au #enhypen social media au #enhypen x reader #enhypen x female reader #sunghoon x reader #sunghoon smau #enhypen angst #enhypen smut #park sunghoon x female reader #park sunghoon smau #park sunghoon social media au #sunghoon smut #sunghoon angst #park sunghoon angst

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cybrsan · 5 months

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Miracle Of The Season — J.JK

STORY SUMMARY: Cast out of Heaven after a painful betrayal, you find yourself having to navigate the intricacies of human life without any guidance from the Creator or the family you have always known. Things only get worse as the holiday season reaches its peak, with reminders of the life you left behind everywhere you look. When a familiar face pops up, you aren’t sure whether to consider it a blessing or a curse.

PAIRING: Angel Jungkook x Fallen Angel F!Reader

RATING/GENRE: M ; angst, fluff, smut ; second chance romance, angel AU, soulmate AU

WORD COUNT: 17.2k

WARNINGS: Heavy themes of religious trauma, an initially negative view of Christianity transforming into a more neutral/respectful view of individual faiths, initial dismissal of other religions, difficult self-growth journey, homelessness, very brief mentions of murder and rape

OTHER/NSFW WARNINGS: Sharing one-bed trope (kinda), mistletoe trope (teehee), first time, fingering, cunnilingus, hand job, unprotected sex

A/N: This is a lot. The story definitely got away from me, but I think that's because there was so much I wanted to say. I definitely could have made this longer, and if I had time/wasn't such a slow writer, I probably would have. It's a heavy topic, but it's one that is near and dear to my heart and one that I think a lot of people can relate to. If you do, I hope this story feels a bit healing.

A/N 2: This is based on the vibes of his song "Standing Next To You" and the m/v for it.

LINKS: Part of the Jingle All The Way! collab with my talented, wonderful friends. Cross-posted on AO3 and (eventually) Wattpad. Banner made by the lovely @kithtaehyung.

"—let it snow, let it snow, let it snow!"

You take a deep, calming breath as you pass the carolers. Their cheerful voices grate on your nerves, but you keep your head down and continue walking. Lashing out at them won't do any good, even if it might give you a moment of satisfaction. It's not like they're the source of your irritation anyway; the crowded streets are abuzz with the unrelenting chaos of the Christmas season, and you have been on edge all morning.

Turning a corner, you enter a street closer to the shelter you have been calling home for the past year and a half. Immediately, some of your tension dissipates, and you feel like you can breathe a bit easier. There are fewer lights here and less noise, but a few decorations still attract your attention, like a moth to a flame. A nativity scene is proudly displayed in someone's window, and you stop dead in your tracks.

"Freedom of religion, my ass," you mutter bitterly as you tear your gaze away. Why does everyone and their mother seem to celebrate this stupid holiday?

You know that for many, Christmas isn’t necessarily a holy season. Some humans just use the holiday as an excuse to wear obnoxious sweaters, play the same song on repeat, and spoil one another with gifts. Yet reminders of the celestial realm, of the life you have been cast out from, are everywhere. The nativity, for one. Then there are the carolers singing their songs, and the cartoonish cherub decals that can be found on shop windows, holding banners that proclaim, “Buy one, get one 20% off!” Even the name of the holiday is marked by one of His monikers. Christmas.

It makes you sick.

The weather doesn't help, either. Drawing your coat more tightly around yourself, you try to ignore the relentless chill that settles deep in your bones. You’re definitely not dressed warmly enough, ill-prepared considering the sensation of being cold is something you’re still getting used to. It is yet another item you have added to your ever-growing list of "whys.” The question of why God created snow joins the ranks of "why did He make spiders?" and "why is He the most selfish being in existence?"

You sniff. Perhaps you let your emotions get the best of you at times.

Emotions. Another thing that’s somewhat new. As an angel, you didn’t really have those. The only thing you ever thought about was following orders and how better you could praise His name. Ugh. It’s hard to believe now that you were ever so single-minded. Though, towards the end, you suppose that wasn’t the case. It all went awry when you started this “list” of yours—when you started questioning things.

The moment that doubt had first crept into your mind seems like a lifetime ago. Reaching the status of archangel was something you had been working toward for millennia. It was a position that allowed you to work more closely with humanity; you were able to actually guide their paths and alter their destiny.

At first, it was everything you had ever wanted. The miracles that occurred because of your intervention made you feel like you were doing something worthwhile. But you quickly learned that not all of your missions would be quite as fulfilling.

You will never forget the first time you were put in charge of administering a holy test. The man had done nothing wrong, yet your higher-ups still insisted that he needed to be "tried by fire." The divine reasons were beyond comprehension, or so you were told. But watching the man suffer as everything he loved was taken from him, seeing the desperation and despair in his eyes… It felt wrong. That feeling stayed with you even as you watched the man's faith remain unbroken. Somehow, that made it worse.

And then there were those who committed sinful acts and escaped punishment. You saw murderers and rapists living their lives in peace while innocent souls suffered unjustly at their hands. The scales of justice seemed unfairly balanced, and you began to feel crushed by the weight of your guilt.

Thus, the degradation process began. For the longest time, you thought it was a myth, a scary story told to keep angels in line. If you doubt, if you disobey, you begin withering away into nothingness. You'll start to feel things, to lose your sense of purpose. It will be painful and overwhelming and, eventually, you'll cease to exist entirely. You were told that if it were to happen, you must report it to a superior at once. But you were terrified.

There was only one person you trusted enough to share the way you were feeling—your other half, your celestial counterpart. The one who knew you like no other did. Your Astrom, Jungkook.

There is an old celestial folk tale that documents the first creation of an Astrom pair. It is said God took one star and split it into two. Neither half could live without the other, nor would they want to. It is difficult to describe the way you felt for him, as angels are devoid of personal desires or emotions as humans experience them. It was simply as if being with him was as natural as breathing. He was the only being other than the Creator that you felt beholden to, that you admired.

When you first revealed your doubts to him, he simply listened, displaying a level of patience that you found comforting. He answered your questions about morality, about justice as best he could, trying to reassure you that everything happened for a reason. Yet no matter how persuasively he argued, your doubts wouldn't go away.

Eventually, you began to start contemplating letting yourself fall from grace. The thought was terrifying, but at the same time, there was a certain allure to it. To Fall meant to renounce your celestial responsibilities, and that included no longer having to inflict pain on innocent souls.

When you confessed this dangerous thought to him, Jungkook gave you a look that you couldn't decipher. All you remember is what he said next: "If you Fall, I shall Fall with you."

His words had been unexpected, and you didn’t know whether to take comfort in them or not. You didn’t want him to share your fate, to bear the burden of your guilt. Could you live with yourself if he Fell too? The answer was an obvious no. But the mere thought of being alone in your struggle was something you couldn’t stomach either. So, you attempted to keep your dissent to a minimum and perform your duties as required. But it wasn’t long before everything fell apart regardless.

Eventually, you were discovered and brought before the celestial court. You were accused of blasphemy since questioning Him was an unforgivable sin and sentenced to Fall, to be cast out from the life you have always known. Yet, the real blow came when you found out who had betrayed you.

Jungkook.

Your Astrom.

The one you had trusted implicitly, the other half of your celestial star, had betrayed you in the name of divine loyalty. The pain of the Fall, the feeling of your grace ripped from your body, the scorching burn of your wings as they turned to ash—none of this could compete with the raw, gut-wrenching anguish of his betrayal.

Even now, months later, remembering makes you feel as if you can't breathe, as if you might die. Every memory of him is like a punch to the gut, and the city, so full of noise and life, does nothing to drown out the agony. Some days, the pain is so vivid and unbearable that it feels as though you are Falling all over again.

A rough shove against your shoulder makes you stumble, and the man who ran into you barely grunts out an apology before continuing past. At least the disruption is a timely one, allowing you to pull yourself out of your thoughts before you spiral. There’s no point focusing on the past when there’s nothing you to do to change it, especially not when you have a myriad of new human concerns to deal with.

Your job hunt was, once again, unsuccessful. You keep telling yourself that it’s because it’s so close to the holidays and you’ll have a better chance once the new year comes. In reality, you’re sure it’s because you have no experience, no schooling, and no useful knowledge.

At least you’re familiar enough with the city now that zoning out didn’t prevent you from getting to your destination.

Lost Star Shelter.

The place you’ve been calling home. It’s certainly not perfect, but little on Earth ever is. You feel awful stepping past the crowd of people waiting outside its doors, knowing that they, like you, have nowhere else to go. You've been fortunate enough to secure your spot due to your volunteering efforts and the fact that the manager, Naomi, seems to have taken a liking to you. But not everyone is so lucky.

You step inside, greeted by the familiar smells of disinfectant and something cooking in the kitchen. The place is buzzing with activity as usual—mothers trying to soothe crying children, elderly folks chatting away in groups, and a few lone souls quietly scrawling job applications.

"Long day?" Naomi catches your gaze from behind the front desk, her warm smile a stark contrast to the weariness etched in the lines of her face.

"Isn't it always?" You head over and pick up the clipboard she slides toward you, scanning your list of tasks for the day. As expected, it's long hours of mindless labor, but you don't mind. Not only do you need to earn your place here, but volunteering gives you a sense of purpose similar to your previous heavenly duties. And you have the satisfaction of knowing you're actually helping, not harming.

"First on the list," Naomi points to an item at the top of your clipboard, "is the donations room. We just had a big drop-off and could use some extra hands sorting through it all. But grab some dinner before you start, okay?"

You nod, her straightforward nature getting a slight smile out of you. "Yes, ma'am."

You navigate your way towards the crowded dining area, where a line of people has formed, waiting for their turn to get served. The cooks, all volunteers like yourself, are bustling about, serving portions of the day's meal which looks to be a thick stew accompanied by fresh bread. The food is simple but hearty, more than enough to keep you working through the evening. You make a mental note to slip into the kitchen later and thank them for their hard work.

You find an empty seat at one of the long tables that occupy the space, making yourself at home amongst the people who are engrossing themselves in their meals or with idle chatter. You even join in on a conversation with some older women across the table, who are engaged in a spirited debate about soap operas. Your knowledge of pop culture is sparse at best, but they seem delighted to fill you in on the latest drama, their laughter infectious.

After your meal, you make your way towards the donations room. The sight of piled-up clothes, toys, blankets, and other items is both overwhelming and heartwarming. Naomi wasn't kidding when she said they'd received a large drop-off. It's a daunting task, but you roll up your sleeves and get to work. You start by sorting through the clutter, meticulously separating everything into various categories—men's clothes, women's clothes, children's clothes, etc., and items that need repairs or cleaning. Hours pass by unnoticed, the rhythm of work almost meditative.

Your thoughts inevitably wander back to Jungkook. A pang of longing shoots through you. He was the one who would always be by your side when you had to perform menial tasks like this in the celestial realm. You wonder what he would think of your new life. Does he look down on you from up high with pity or disdain, or does he simply not think of you at all? You aren't sure if you even want to know the answer.

As time wears on, the room gradually becomes less cluttered and more organized. You're just about to take a break when Naomi appears at the doorway, her aging features softened by the warm glow of the hallway light behind her. She takes in your progress with an approving nod.

"You've done well," she says, stepping into the room.

You can't help but feel a sense of pride at her words. "Thank you, Naomi."

She strolls around the room, her observant gaze sweeping over the sorted piles, her hands touching a few items here and there.

"It's amazing," she finally says, "how much kindness there is out there, even when it seems like everything is falling apart. No matter how rough things get, we can choose to be generous, choose to help others. That's what makes us human."

Her words resonate with you. You’ve seen the worst and best of humanity firsthand; the same species that wages wars also unite in times of crisis, offering support and showing kindness to total strangers. How much is influenced by higher powers and how much is purely human nature, you wouldn't presume to know. Your very existence has blurred the lines between supernatural influence and mortal will.

"True," you say, looking up at Naomi from where you're still seated on the floor surrounded by donations. "That’s a nice way to look at things."

Naomi's smile broadens at that, and she gives one last cursory glance around the room before saying, "Well, I'll let you get back to work. Don't stay up too late."

"Goodnight, Naomi," you call after her as she steps out into the hallway, half-waving at you as she goes.

A little over an hour later, you step back to admire your work. Each item has been categorized, ready to be cleaned and redistributed. You move on to your next set of responsibilities: cleaning up the common areas and helping close up for the night.

The smell of cleaning supplies clings to your skin as you make your way back to your sleeping quarters—a small, shared room filled with single beds. Careful not to disturb anyone, you move towards your assigned bed, its familiar creaks and groans echoing softly under your weight as you settle into it. Exhaustion pulls at your muscles, but you need to wash up and change before you sleep.

You grab your shower caddy, change of clothes, and quietly make your way to the women’s bathroom. The fluorescent white lights flicker to life as you enter, revealing a row of curtained shower cubicles. You choose one at the end and let the water heat up as you undress. The hot water cascades over your tired body, soothing your muscles and washing away the sweat and grime that has built up throughout the day.

Shower done and teeth brushed, you pull on fresh clothes and make your way back to your bed. As you settle back down under the covers, you notice something strange on your bedsheet. A crisp scorch mark is visible against the fabric, and when you observe it more closely, you're shocked to realize that the shape almost looks like… fingers? Your heart hammers in your chest.

"Impossible," you whisper to yourself.

The sight of these burns is not unfamiliar to you; in fact, you have been the cause of such marks before. It is a common occurrence when celestial beings interact with the mortal world—remnants of their powerful energy left behind. But as you stare at them now, a sense of unease creeps over you. Could it be Jungkook? The thought flickers through your mind, but you quickly brush it aside. Why would he make himself known in this way and then vanish without even seeing you? You can't allow yourself to hope.

Dismissing the thought, you force yourself to rationalize that it must have been an accident. Perhaps someone burned it while it was being ironed. It’s easy enough to convince yourself; after all, it’s only three and a half slender marks—it could be anything. But the unease remains as you lay down on the bed, your mind filled with questions. You eventually succumb to sleep from sheer exhaustion, your dreams filled with memories of Jungkook.

The next day passes in a blur—the usual routine of job applications, food preparation, and cleaning duties. The burn mark on your bedsheet remains a mystery. You track down the volunteer who did the laundry, and she swears she wouldn't be so careless as to burn someone’s belongings. Despite her assurances, it's the only explanation you are willing to believe. You return to your bed to find that the sheet has been replaced with a fresh one, the burn mark gone as if it never existed.

You spot an older man sitting on a bed in the corner; his mouth moves silently, and the rosary beads dangling from his fingers lead you to believe he’s praying. A small, faux Christmas tree, no larger than a water bottle, stands on a box next to him. The sight stirs something with you, an uncomfortable feeling once again settling in your gut. You don’t understand his faith. How can someone continue to pray to a God that has obviously forsaken him?

You wait until the man finishes and safely tucks the rosary beads into his shirt pocket, right above his heart, before you approach.

“Excuse me?”

He looks up at you with a smile, eyes crinkling around the edges. "What can I help you with, dear?"

"I noticed you praying," you begin tentatively. Despite your personal qualms with religion, you don’t want to seem as if you are disrespecting him or his beliefs. "I hope you don't mind my asking, but how do you keep your faith? Under these circumstances?"

He doesn't seem bothered at all by your blunt question. Instead, he chuckles softly and pats the bed beside him, inviting you to sit down. You hesitate a moment before complying.

"Faith isn't about having all the answers," he starts, his voice a mere whisper in the quiet room. "It isn't about being rewarded for good deeds or punished for bad ones. It's about hope. It's about believing that things will get better."

“Hope? Still? Despite… despite being here? I mean, aren’t you upset with God?” Your voice is barely above a whisper as well, a mixture of curiosity and frustration seeping into your words.

He remains silent for a while, his gaze wandering towards the small Christmas tree on the box beside him.

"No, I'm not upset with God," he finally replies. "Man is given free will, and it is man who chooses what to do with it. Crisis, poverty… God didn't create these. They're the consequences of human choices." His words are sincere, spoken with a calmness that only comes from years of contemplation. "God doesn't promise us that life will always be easy or free from hardships. But He does promise that He will be there in those times of trouble. You see, faith isn't about expecting God to fix our problems, but about having the strength to face them."

“I envy your strength,” you admit with a hint of admiration in your voice.

“Strength is born from struggle, dear. You’ll find your way soon enough.”

“I hope you’re right.”

The conversation lingers in your mind long after the man's words have faded into silence. You sit on your bunk, staring at the ceiling, pondering them. His unshakable faith is both alien and inspiring to you. Even when you were an archangel, before any doubts seeped into your mind, your faith was nothing like his. It was a duty, an obligation, a resolute certainty that was less about personal beliefs and more about the world you were born into.

His mention of hope sticks out to you the most. You look around the room again, taking note of the different symbols of faith scattered across the room—crosses, menorahs, and even a small prayer mat in one corner. Each person in this room believes in something larger than themselves, something that gives them hope. And you? You're not certain what you believe in anymore. But maybe, just maybe, some of your anger has been misplaced.

As the daylight fades, you find yourself wandering outside, the crisp evening air bringing a kind of comfort you couldn't find inside. You walk aimlessly, your feet following the now-familiar sidewalks. You end up in a park, and you make a seat for yourself on a deserted bench.

Looking up into the sky, now painted with hues of orange and pink, you let yourself miss Heaven for just a minute. To miss Jungkook. Even the Creator. You can never go back to worshipping Him, nor do you want to, but you can't deny the connection that once was. As much as you wish everything never happened, you are grateful for how much you've grown since.

Suddenly, you’re disoriented by a bright flash of light and a shrill, piercing sound that makes your entire body jolt. You shut your eyes and cover your ears, but it does nothing to dull the pain. It's as if the noise is coming from inside your mind. You half-crawl, half-fall off the bench, curling in on yourself, unable to think anything, do anything, until it finally comes to a stop.

The world pauses around you; the birds stop chirping, the wind stops blowing, and people are frozen where they walk. A familiar feeling washes over you, and your breath catches in your throat. You can’t bring yourself to open your eyes. Even in this form, even as a human, his presence calls to your very soul. You hadn’t realized how incomplete you felt, how empty you were, without him by your side. He’s your other half, and he always will be. The realization makes you want to cry. You had hoped after the Fall, after you became human, that would cease to be true. You can’t stand the fact that you’re still irrevocably tied to him, even after all that he’s done. As always, fate is cruel.

“Y/N.”

He speaks your name with a quiet reverence as if he can hardly believe you’re there in front of him. The familiar, honeyed tone of his voice reignites your longing for him with full force, but you still stubbornly keep your eyes closed. You can’t look at him. You aren’t strong enough.

“I cannot believe you are alive.”

What?

His statement shocks you enough that your eyes fly open of their own accord, and for the first time in months, you're met with the sight of Jungkook. You're not sure if you perceive him differently now that you are mortal, but he's even more captivating than you remember.

His dark hair curls softly atop his head and is tousled ever-so-perfectly. His skin is beautifully tanned, and the way his tall figure is silhouetted against the sun makes it seem like he's glowing. His wings are obsidian, gargantuan in size, seemingly consuming the entire park with their reach. He's magnificent, so beautiful it hurts.

But it is his eyes that have you frozen in your spot—those beautiful, brown doe eyes, filled with so much emotion that it takes your breath away. He's not supposed to be able to feel unless… unless he has begun the degradation process, as you had.

“Y/N,” he repeats, his voice trembling. "I thought you were dead."

“I don't understand,” you manage to choke out, trying to sound more composed than you feel. You pull yourself to your feet, grimacing at the pain radiating throughout your body. How much of it is physical and how much is emotional, you can't tell.

He takes a step closer to you, his hands outstretched as if to ensure that you're real, but you recoil instinctively. He flinches at your reaction but still grabs your arms, grip unrelenting even as you attempt to pull away from him.

“Protective markings have been burned onto your ribs.” Hurt flashes across his features. “Were you hiding from me?”

“What? No.” You manage to break free and back up a few steps, putting some distance between you. You feel exposed and vulnerable under his gaze, remembering how he always seemed to know what you were thinking even before you did. "I didn't even know I had them."

"I need you to explain everything," he demands.

“You need me to explain?" You scoff and cross your arms over your chest defensively. "What about you?”

“Me?” He tilts his head slightly, his confusion obvious.

“Yes, you!" You take a step closer, anger simmering just beneath the surface. "After all, you’re how I ended up in this situation, right?”

“What are you talking about?”

"You betrayed me!" you hiss. “I confided in you, and you told me you understood. That you were with me. And then you turned around and proclaimed me a blasphemer!”

He doesn’t respond right away, and it’s as if you can see the cogs turning in his head as he pieces things together. “Y/N… I would never.”

His admittance makes you pause. Angels aren’t supposed to lie, though you know not everyone abides by that law. However, Jungkook has always been one of the most dedicated to the commandments.

“That’s not what Namsu told me.”

“Namsu? The Throne?”

“Yes, the Throne. The one who exiled me on the orders of up high.”

His eyebrows furrow. “You… were exiled? You did not wither?”

"Wither?" you scoff. "That's a myth, Jungkook. A cover-up to hide the fact that when angels start to stand up for what they think is right, they get cast out. And it's thanks to you that I'm here now."

"I… no." The intensity behind the word takes you aback. "I just wanted to help you; I thought you were sick. I went to one of the Cherubim for guidance—I would have never turned you in for some kind of punishment."

His words hang in the air, making your heart pound in your chest. He was trying to help you? The thought sends a flurry of conflicting emotions through you.

"Help me?" You repeat his words, mocking him in your disbelief. "Your way of helping got me exiled! Cast down and made mortal."

"I did not—" He cuts himself off, his gaze dropping to the ground. "I never meant for any of this to happen."

"Yet it did!" you snap, crossing your arms tightly around yourself as if they could somehow shield you from the pain his presence brings. "And now I'm here, and nothing will ever be the same!"

"I am so sorry." His apology is whispered so softly that you almost don't catch it. But you do, and it hits you like a punch in the gut.

Your head feels as if it's about to implode. He didn't purposefully betray you—in fact, he was trying to save you. But even so, his actions have led to your downfall, and now you're stuck here on earth, far from the light of Heaven, vulnerable and mortal, while he remains immortal and untouchable. Perhaps that's the part that hurts the most. The fact that now you are separated not by betrayal but by the very nature of your beings.

Your voice cracks as tears fill your eyes. "If all this is true, then why wouldn’t you have looked for me?”

“I looked everywhere at first, but I could not sense you anymore.” If it was possible, you think he would be crying too. “Namsu is the one who told me what happened. He said that you… that your doubt consumed you, and you did not survive.”

The information hits you like a ton of bricks. Your knees almost give out for a second time, but Jungkook reaches out and grabs you by the elbows, steadying you.

"I… I had no idea." A bitter laugh escapes your lips as you look up at him. "You didn't know anything, and I presumed the worst of you."

His fingers tighten around your arms in a reassuring squeeze. "We can always start over, Y/N."

"Start over?" you echo, incredulous. "You make it sound so easy."

"And why would it not be? We were not the ones to blame for our separation. Come back with me."

"I'm human now. The only way I can come back is… is if I'm dead."

His grip loosens, his face paling at your words. "I did not mean to suggest… Of course, I do not want you to die," he hastily corrects himself, glancing down at the ground. His wings flutter uneasily behind him, betraying his discomfort. "There must be another way."

"If there was, would it even be safe? I mean, why would Namsu do this?" you ask, staring at him. You're not sure if you're asking him or simply musing aloud. Even so, the question hangs heavily in the silence between you.

Finally, after what seems like an eternity, Jungkook speaks again. His voice is barely above a whisper when he says, "I wish I had the answers you seek, but I don't. All I know is that I will do everything in my power to rectify this situation." He turns away from you, scanning the horizon as if searching for something. "I need to return and confront Namsu. He must account for his actions."

"No, it's too dangerous. What if he forces you to Fall, too? You can't risk it, Jungkook."

He looks back at you, his expression hardening. "I will not let him get away with this, Y/N," he says resolutely. "Deception is not a virtue of a Throne, especially not in such grave matters."

"And you won't let him, but you need to go about this carefully. Going to him directly won't work—he's too powerful."

Jungkook tilts his head, regarding you skeptically. "It almost sounds as if you are asking me to be deceitful."

"Not deceitful, just… stealthy?"

He doesn’t respond immediately, his brow furrowed as he mulls over your words. After a moment, he exhales slowly, pulling back from you to pace the grass in thought. "Stealthy," he repeats slowly, his voice distant. "That would require careful planning. Secret meetings. Misdirection."

"Yes," you agree, watching him closely. "All of that."

He stops suddenly, turning to look at you. "Very well. I will do whatever it takes to get to the bottom of this."

Your chest tightens, and you gnaw at your bottom lip. His resolve both comforts and worries you. You don't want him to risk himself for you, but part of you is happy that he is willing.

"However,” Jungkook breaks your train of thought. "It sounds like I may need to be a little bit more human to pull this off. After all, none of this comes easily to angels, but mortals lie all the time."

You raise an eyebrow. "And how are you going to achieve that?"

"You will have to teach me, of course." He says this as if doing so will be the easiest thing in the world. “The degradation process has already started for me, as I am sure you are aware. It should be easy.”

"You're serious?"

Jungkook had always been so straight-laced, the epitome of angelic perfection. The idea of him playing at being human is almost laughable.

"Completely," he responds, his intense gaze never wavering. "I am willing to do whatever it takes to bring Namsu to justice and try to fix this. Fix us. If that requires adopting some mortal habits, then so be it."

"Alright," you finally concede, shaking your head in amusement. "Time for a crash course in 'how to be a human' 101."

He smiles faintly at that, the corners of his mouth tipping upwards just so. It's a small thing, barely noticeable amidst the tension still hanging heavily in the air between you two, but it's enough. Enough to remind you that the way you felt about him in Heaven, despite not being able to feel, was some kind of love. You don't know where that leaves you now or what you're going to do about it, but procrastination is another human skill you have come to love. Maybe you'll teach him that eventually.

"Lesson one," you start, pointing a finger at him in mock sternness. "Humans don't always speak so formally or in such grandiose phrases. ‘I am going to bring Namsu to justice' sounds archaic or like something a two-bit superhero would say."

His lips quirk upward into a more genuine smile this time. "I see," he replies, his voice deliberately casual. "So how would a human say it?"

"Well, for starters, you could use slang," you suggest.

Jungkook’s brows furrow, an almost comical look of concentration on his face. “Slang,” he repeats, testing the word on his tongue.

“Yes, slang. Humans don’t always pronounce every single word, and they often come up with new, shorter words to replace certain phrases. You could say something like, 'Namsu’s gonna get what he deserves.'”

He nods, repeating your words slowly. “Namsu... is going to get what he deserves.”

You burst out laughing at his attempt. The prim, stoic angel fumbling his way through human speech? It is truly a sight to behold.

"Laughing at my expense?" He feigns hurt, but there's a playful twinkle in his eyes that gives him away. "I guess that's lesson two then: humans are full of mirth and mockery."

"You're catching on quickly," you reply, still giggling slightly. “And yes, we like to laugh.”

He observes you a moment longer before finally allowing a soft chuckle to escape his lips. It's a deep, rich sound, but it feels tentative like he's not quite sure if he's doing it right.

“Laughing…" he murmurs, puzzling over the concept. “Such a peculiar expression of joy. But I like it."

"As you should," you reply, a grin still playing across your face. "It's one of the best parts about being human."

Jungkook studies you for a moment, a smile tugging at his lips. "It suits you."

"Hm? What does?"

"Being human."

"I’m not sure whether to take that as a compliment or an insult.”

"There is a certain spontaneity in humans. A vibrancy that angels lack." Jungkook’s gaze intensifies, his voice lowering to almost a whisper as he steps closer. "It makes you shine more brightly. Like the sun."

He's so close to you now that you can make out the subtle flecks of gold in his eyes. Your heart pounds in your chest as his words wash over you, warming you from the inside out.

"That—" You clear your throat, trying to steady your shaking voice. "That sounds like a compliment."

"It is," he confirms, his gaze flickering down to your lips for a brief second before rising back to meet your eyes. "But it is also an observation. A fact."

You want to kiss him. The thought shocks you—you've never kissed someone before, let alone wanted to. It must be a human impulse. You can't help but imagine what it might feel like, the warmth of his lips against yours, his skin beneath your fingertips. You want to feel his hand on your cheek, his fingers tangling in your hair. But the danger of your respective positions impedes that thought, and you push it down. He's an angel. You're not. Him being your Astrom, the connection you had before your Fall, none of it matters now.

"Okay," you manage to squeak out, trying to ignore the electricity that seems to be sparking between your too-close bodies. "Human lesson number three: we're big on personal space."

"Oh?" Jungkook raises an eyebrow but doesn't step away. "Is this too close?"

You swallow hard. "A bit."

You swear you see a hint of mischievousness cross his features before he complies, stepping back just enough to leave a sliver of space between you. "Better?"

"Now you're just teasing me," you retort, though there's a soft smile playing on your lips.

"Is that frowned upon?"

"No," you admit. "In fact, it's quite human of you. Now, it’s time for a real challenge." He looks at you quizzically. "We have to convince Naomi to let you stay at the shelter."

"Ah," he nods, understanding dawning on him. "I see. Another part of being human—negotiation."

"Exactly."

"Then lead the way." With a snap of his fingers, time resumes for the two of you and his wings have disappeared, making him appear fully human, and you head back to Lost Star.

"Naomi, please," you beg, giving your boss the best puppy eyes you can muster. "He needs a place to stay."

Naomi crosses her arms over her chest and drags her gaze over Jungkook in a way that suggests she's scrutinizing every cell of his being, from the top of his head down to the tips of his toes. "There's no extra beds, hun. I'm sorry, there's nothing I can do."

"Then he can stay with me!"

"You and him, sharing that tiny little twin bed?" She scoffs. "I'd like to see you try."

"We'll make it work!"

"It's still against the rules. One body to one bed."

"I know it's not ideal, but just for a few days until we figure out something else," you urge her. "I wouldn't be asking you this if it wasn't important."

Jungkook steps forward, interjecting smoothly, "I will respect the rules, and if you feel my presence is harmful or disruptive in any way, I will leave immediately."

Naomi looks between you and Jungkook, and then she sighs, throwing her hands up in defeat.

"Fine, but only for a little while. And you can't sleep in the main room. Take my office—the couch is a pull-out."

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" You pull her into a hug that she returns with a loving exasperation.

"If there's even a whiff of trouble, both of you are gone, understand?"

"Yes, ma'am! I wouldn't expect anything less."

You grab Jungkook’s hand, dragging him along behind you as you lead him through the shelter. You pass through some of the busier living areas, and it's as if everyone can’t help but stare at him. You can only assume that, despite his wings being hidden, he still emits some sort of otherworldly aura that draws people in. Plus, by human standards, you suppose he's quite attractive.

Jungkook seems unbothered by the attention, too focused on his surroundings and curiously taking in every detail.

"All these people live here?" he asks, incredulous. "This place is quite small."

"Shh! Lesson four: lower your voice when you're talking about other people. The last thing we need is for someone to overhear and think you're judging them."

"Apologies," Jungkook replies, his voice dropping to a whisper. "But my previous comment was not meant to be judgmental. I’m just… surprised. I thought humans usually lived in family units, but everyone here doesn't seem to be related."

I’m. Doesn’t. He’s already using contractions—you must either be a good teacher or he’s a quick learner.

"You're right," you agree, and as you glance around, your heart aches a little. "Not everyone is fortunate enough to have that. This place is for those who have lost their families or homes."

"Lost their homes? Like in a fire?"

"Sometimes. Or maybe they didn't have enough money to pay their taxes."

"I don't understand. Are there not enough homes for everyone? Why do you need to pay for such a basic need?"

You pause, the innocence of his question hitting you surprisingly hard. Of course he wouldn't understand the complexities of human society, of money and social class, of poverty and wealth disparity. You didn't either; at least, not until you Fell and were forced to figure it out.

"That is a complicated issue," you admit, running a hand through your hair. "And not all humans agree on how to solve it. Some people think everyone should have a home, regardless of whether or not they can pay for it. Others think that if you can't afford it, you don't deserve one."

He looks so confused that you would be tempted to laugh if the tone of the conversation wasn't so serious. "That doesn't seem fair. In heaven, everyone has a place."

"Yes, well, Earth isn't heaven." There's a bitterness to your words that you hadn't intended. "And why our Creator chooses to leave things like this is a mystery to me. I mean, why not use some of His power to help?"

"The ways of the Almighty are impossible for us to understand," Jungkook quietly replies. "And it's not for us to question."

You snort in response, crossing your arms over your chest. "Well, aren't you a dutiful little angel?"

Jungkook frowns, clearly not understanding your sarcasm. You sigh and shake your head.

"I'm sorry, Jungkook. It's just hard to wrap my head around sometimes. It's why my so-called degradation process started in the first place. Look at them—" You gesture to the people huddled together around the small television in the corner of the room, others sharing a meal or helping to care for the younger children. "They're good people. Why do they deserve to suffer?"

Silence lingers between you for a moment. When he responds, he doesn’t answer your question. “Their heavenly rewards shall be plentiful as long as they keep to their faith.”

“Does that make all of this okay?" You scoff. "Why are they being tested like this? In fact, why do they even need to believe at all to be given a home in the celestial realm? If a person is good-hearted, why isn’t that enough?”

Jungkook looks away from you. "I don't like these questions."

“You don’t like them? Or you don’t like how uncomfortable they make you feel?”

Before he can even bother replying, you let go of his hand and open the door to Naomi's office, hurrying inside, eager to get some space. It's small and cramped, filled with stacks of paper, an old wooden desk strewn with an old computer and various office supplies, and a well-worn couch wedged against the wall.

"It's not much," you say. "But it's home for now, I guess."

"Home," Jungkook repeats softly, eyes scanning the room. He zeroes in the billboard behind Naomi's desk, filled with photos of smiling people, letters from those that she has helped. A smile tugs at his lips. "It's nice."

"You say that now. Just wait until you're trying to sleep and a couch spring is digging into your back."

"I don't actually need to sleep," he reminds you.

You roll your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest. "Right, I forgot. At least we won't be fighting for the blanket."

"I can pretend to," Jungkook offers, a spark of amusement in his eyes. "The idea of laying next to you is not unwelcome."

You blush, taken aback. "W-what… you…" You take a deep breath. "No, that won't be necessary. And lesson five: don't flirt with people unless you mean it."

"What is 'flirt’?”

"Flirting," you explain, trying to keep your blush under control, "is when people say or do things that suggest they're attracted to each other."

"I see." He pauses for just a moment before asking, "And how do I know if I'm attracted to someone?"

You sigh exasperatedly. Who knew teaching an angel to be human could be so tiring?

"It's… well, it's kind of hard to explain. Especially because, as an angel, you don't really feel, at least not until the degradation process is nearing its end. But basically, it's like you have an inexplicable urge to be around this person a lot. You think about them often, their happiness makes you happy, and you want to be closer to them, maybe even touch them or hold them. Some people also might feel their heart beat faster, or a fluttering in their stomach."

As you speak, Jungkook’s eyes never leave yours. They gleam with curiosity and understanding, drinking in every word you say. He seems to be processing the concept, and then he suddenly smiles. "So, like how I feel about you."

Caught off-guard, you blink at him, speechless for a moment. And then the panic seeps in.

"No, Jungkook, that's not correct," you insist, your words tumbling out in haste and denial. "You can't… we can't… you're an angel. I'm—" Fallen, you want to say. Human, you need to say. But you don't.

"Why not?" he asks simply, his gaze steady.

"Because!" You scramble for an explanation, desperate to avoid the truth of your own feelings stirring within you. "Because angels aren't supposed to feel that way."

"But I am no longer a pure angel," Jungkook counters. "The degradation process has begun. We discussed this already."

"But that doesn't matter! The whole reason we are doing this is so you can learn the skills you need to figure out a way to stop Namsu from forcing anyone else to Fall. Once you do, you'll be able to stay in Heaven because withering isn't real." Before he can say anything else, you open the door. "I'm gonna grab my stuff from my bed. I'll… I'll be back in a second."

You slam the door behind you, leaving Jungkook alone in the room. It's a struggle to keep your composure as you head towards your bed. All you can think of is his words, the nonchalance with which he said them. You can feel your traitorous heart yearning for him, but you can't let it sway you. Whether it was an accident or not, his betrayal led to your Fall. Led to you being human. And he's an angel. No matter what you feel or what he thinks he feels, nothing can happen between you now.

As you gather your meager belongings, the man you spoke with earlier approaches you with a sympathetic expression. "You alright, dear? You didn't get evicted, did you? I'll give Naomi a piece of mind if that's the case."

"No, no," you quickly reassure him with a forced smile. "My… my friend needs a place to stay for awhile, and there's a one body to one bed policy. Naomi was kind enough to let us use the couch in her office for a few days until we figure something else out."

"Your friend, hm?" His eyes twinkle mischievously. "That fellow you walked in with? Can't say I blame you. He's quite a looker."

"It's not like that," you blush, hurriedly stuffing the rest of your belongings into your bag. "Anyway, don't worry. You'll still see me around."

The man grins and gives you a friendly pat on the shoulder. "I'm glad to hear it. This place would be much drearier without you."

You bid him goodbye with a wave and make your way back to Naomi's office, feeling like you're walking towards the edge of a cliff. As you open the door, you find Jungkook staring out the window. The streetlight spills in through the gap in the curtains, bathing him in a soft glow. He turns as you enter.

"Gathered your belongings?" he asks, his voice calm as if the previous conversation never happened. For a moment, you feel robbed—does he not understand the gravity of what he said? But you suppose it's better this way. Easier, at least.

"Yes," you respond, a bit more brusquely than intended, setting your bag down on the floor. He's still staring at you, and you flush under his gaze. "I'm just going to set up the couch. And stop staring at me so intently. Humans get nervous about stuff like that."

"Another lesson," he remarks. "Understood." Jungkook watches you for a moment longer, then turns back to the window without a word.

You get to work, unfolding the couch and covering it with your bedding. The silence between you is thick; you can feel the tension radiating off of Jungkook despite his apparent calm. Your heart pounds in your ears as you busy yourself with smoothing out some wrinkles in the sheets, a futile distraction.

With a deep breath, you break the silence. "Alright, I'm done."

Jungkook turns to look, and his eyes scan the makeshift bed you've prepared. "You've made it look inviting."

"Should be okay for a few nights," you reply curtly, avoiding his gaze. "I'm, uh, gonna go ready for bed. I know you don't sleep, but feel free to sit at her desk or something. Make yourself comfortable."

You exit the room and head down the hallway to the bathroom, leaving Jungkook alone with his thoughts. You can’t shake off his confession and your own rush to deny him. The truth of your feelings, or rather the depth of them, is something you aren't ready to face.

After getting ready for bed, you hesitantly return to Naomi's office. The door creaks upon opening, and Jungkook turns from where he's seated at Naomi's desk, looking up at you with his intense gaze.

"Goodnight," you say softly, trying not to let your voice betray how uneasy you feel.

Jungkook nods. "Goodnight," he replies, and his voice is gentle, concerned. You feel a pang of guilt at the distance you've created between the two of you but say nothing more, falling into a fitful sleep.

Sometime during the night, Jungkook figured out how to work Naomi's dinosaur of a computer and discovered the wonderful thing that is the internet. When you wake, he flocks to your side like an excited child, eager to share everything he has learned about humans, their emotions, and their behavior.

"Slow down, Jungkook," you chuckle, holding up a hand to halt his barrage of words. "I can't absorb all of that at once."

"Oh," he says, blinking in surprise. "I forget that human minds process information more slowly. Should I take this as another lesson?"

You shrug, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "Sure, go for it."

Despite the tension last night and everything unsaid between the two of you, you find yourself falling into an easy rhythm with him. He's eager to learn and keen on understanding humanity—your humanity. Throughout the day, he continues his studies, glued to the computer screen as you complete your daily volunteering. He takes breaks every once in a while to come find you and ask questions.

"I've come across some terms that are perplexing," he says, leaning on the front desk as you catalog some information. "'Memes' and 'emojis' appear prominently in human interactions online, but I don’t really know what they are or how they’re used.”

You answer question after question until you realize you aren’t getting work done, so you have to come up with a plan B. Leading him back to Naomi’s office, you pull up Netflix on the computer. Jungkook watches the screen in fascination as you explain streaming and scroll through all the shows.

"Let's try Friends," you say, clicking on the thumbnail.

You leave him to watch as you finish up your tasks for the day, checking occasionally to see that he’s still engrossed in the show. Instead of constantly badgering you with questions, he writes them on a notepad you provided and waits until the end of the day to go over them with you. You answer each one as best you can, completely endeared by him.

It's during one of the show's more depressing moments that he asks you about lying and betrayal, echoing the heavy undertones from the other day. His question takes you by surprise, his gaze focused intensely on your face as he waits for an answer.

"Lying is a tough one," you say, trying to keep your voice steady. "Sometimes it's out of fear or selfishness. Sometimes people lie because they're trying to protect themselves."

"And betrayal?" Jungkook asks, his voice unnaturally calm.

You sigh, looking down at your hands. "Betrayal… it's when someone breaks your trust. It hurts, Jungkook. It hurts a lot."

He watches you for several long moments before finally speaking again. "I see," he says softly. "And that's what you thought I did to you?"

You swallow hard, feeling the knot in your chest tighten. "Jungkook," you start, but falter, not knowing how to put your feelings into words.

"I did not mean to betray you," Jungkook continues. "I realize that my actions may have led you to believe that I deceived you, but it was not my intention. I'm sorry."

"I know." You believe him completely, but the wound is still so fresh that you can’t bring yourself to fully trust him again. Not yet. "I know you didn't mean to, but an apology doesn't fix everything. Consider it another lesson—trust, once broken, isn't so easily mended."

Jungkook plays with the skin around his nails, an anxious habit he seems to be developing the more human-like he becomes. After a moment, he says, "I understand. I will try harder."

"Try harder doing what?"

"To understand you better. To understand all humans more, their emotions and their beliefs. Maybe understanding what trust really is will teach me how to earn it back and make up for my mistakes." He's so earnest, so genuine, it almost brings tears to your eyes. "I think I want this as much as I want Namsu to answer for his crimes, if not more. And maybe that makes little sense, but maybe… maybe that's quite human of me."

"And maybe that's progress," you say softly, looking at Jungkook with newfound hope.

Your new normal is spending your days with your time split between performing your volunteering duties and teaching Jungkook all about human life.

Christmas is only a week away now, and everyone around you seems to be buzzing with excitement. At this point, even the inside of the shelter has been decorated. The hallways are lined with lights and garlands, and the common areas even have a few trees set up with donated presents underneath. And, as much as you have dreaded the holiday, you can't deny that watching Jungkook experience it for the first time makes you hate it a little less.

Despite the initial stiffness that comes with being an angel unfamiliar with human life, he has quickly adapted to life at the shelter. He's kind and patient, and he’s always eager to help out where he can. The children, in particular, have taken a liking to him. He's become their favorite storyteller and always has the kids hanging onto his every word.

One afternoon, you find him sitting with them, singing a song in an ancient celestial language. Everyone will assume it’s some gibberish language he’s made up for one of his stories, but it reminds you of home. His voice is beautiful, melodic and soothing, with a honeyed quality to it that would make anyone stop and listen.

You stand in the doorway and watch, a smile tugging at your lips. He catches your eye and winks, the action so human and unexpected that it startles a laugh out of you. The children turn to see what's so funny, but you just shake your head, telling them to continue listening.

He comes to you when he finishes, smiling brightly. "Did you enjoy the song as well?"

"I did," you reply truthfully, your heart fluttering at his attention. The feelings you have been trying to resist are becoming increasingly persistent the more time you spend with him.

"That's good to hear.”

Suddenly, the kids clamor over to you both, giggling and pointing at something above you. You look up, and all the color drains from your face. Mistletoe. Who the hell put it here?

Jungkook looks between you and the mistletoe, obviously confused. “Why are you angry with that plant? It’s quite beautiful.”

“It’s a tradition, of sorts.” You say the word with disdain. “When a couple—not that we are one—walks under the mistletoe, they’re supposed to kiss.”

“Kiss?”

“We don’t have to, it’s stupid—”

“No, let’s do it. It's a part of the human experience, right? Let's consider it another lesson."

Heat rushes to your face, and you stutter incoherently, looking around the room for a way to escape. But the children are watching expectantly, their eyes wide and eager. You swallow hard, your heart pounding in your chest.

"Alright… close your eyes," you tell him.

He listens obediently, his eyes fluttering closed. You had never noticed just how long and pretty his eyelashes were until now. Bracing yourself, you take a deep breath and lean in, placing a soft kiss on his cheek. When you pull back, you're greeted with a perplexed expression as he opens his eyes.

"That was nice," he says after a brief pause. "But that’s really what a kiss is? In the show, they did it a bit more like—"

He leans in to demonstrate what he means, his lips brushing against yours. It's soft and a bit awkward at first, but he quickly gets the hang of it, pulling you closer. Against your better judgment, you let him, allowing yourself to get lost in the moment. His lips are softer than you would have expected. His fingers lightly squeeze your waist, sending a jolt of electricity through your body, and it's not until you hear some of the children giggling that you are reminded you have an audience.

You quickly pull away, breathless and flushed with embarrassment. Jungkook, however, is grinning from ear to ear. "That," he says. "That is how they did it."

"Again! Again!" one of the kids shouts, pulling at your arm.

Jungkook chuckles at his enthusiasm. "I think we should get back to our story," he says, ruffling the boy’s hair lovingly. Then, turning back to you, he murmurs, "Thank you. For the lesson."

You can barely speak coherently, but you manage to squeak out a small “you’re welcome” before rushing out of the room. How on Earth are you supposed to get your tasks done now? It's impossible to focus, your mind running in circles over his touch, the feel of his lips against yours.

When you return to Naomi’s office later that night, you’re relieved to see that Jungkook isn't there yet. You take a moment to sit on the edge of the bed and process your thoughts, your fingers tracing absentmindedly over your lips. A shiver passes through your body, a heat blooming in the pit of your stomach. You drop your hand, clenching it into a fist to stop the trembling.

"Nervous?" a voice asks, startling you out of your thoughts. Jungkook is standing in the doorway, watching you with an unreadable expression.

"I… no," you say.

"Don't lie," he chides gently, sitting next to you on the bed. “I can tell when you do that now, you know.” He keeps to a respectful distance, but he turns his gaze to you. “I think I'm starting to really understand this human thing. Emotions and all that.”

"Is that so?"

"Yes. They can be painful sometimes but also quite beautiful."

You watch as he turns his gaze back towards the room, and silence stretches between you again. However, it’s different now from how it used to be; it's not awkward or unsettling, but comfortable. His vulnerability makes you want to be honest, to admit to the way you feel.

Just as you’re about to say something, he continues, "But now it's time for me to learn about something else. I need to start strategizing for the coming confrontation."

"Right, Namsu," you say. You almost forgot about Jungkook’s original intentions. You clap your hands and get up, heading to the computer. "Alright. Let's research."

With Jungkook sufficiently prepared, the time soon comes for him to return to the celestial realm. However, he insists on leaving at night, so he can spend the day with you. He referred to it as "a date," and you practically tripped over your own feet, much to his enjoyment. He has certainly developed a penchant for teasing you.

You decide to take him into the heart of the city, so he can observe people in their natural element. There seem to be even more decorations than you remember, and people are bustling about to finish their last-minute shopping. However, you find yourself handling the chaos a lot better with Jungkook by your side.

He hasn't let go of your hand since you stepped out of the shelter, his thumb lightly rubbing circles over your knuckles. Every once in a while, he squeezes it lightly, a silent assurance that he’s there. Whether he notices your nerves and is doing it to comfort you or is doing it because he wants to, you're grateful for it.

His doe eyes dart this way and that, eagerly drinking in the scenery. You try to explain what everything is—the office buildings, luxury apartments, and tiny shops buried in alleyways—but he's more interested in the people. It isn't until you stop in front of a Hindu temple that his attention is finally captured by a building. He cocks his head to the side, eyes wide in wonder as he takes in the sight of it. The temple is a beautiful structure, with elaborate carvings and statues lining its walls.

"What is this place?" he asks, his voice full of awe.

"It's a place of worship for those that practice Hinduism," you explain.

His eyes sparkle with interest as he takes a step closer to the building. "Can we go inside?"

You glance at him, surprised by his request. But something in his earnest gaze breaks down your hesitation. "Sure," you say softly, leading him inside.

The inside of the temple is even more impressive than the outside. There are vibrant murals depicting different gods and an intoxicating scent of incense that fills the air. You gesture to the bell at the entrance. “Would you like to ring it?”

“What’s it for?” he asks, picking it up gently.

“It’s supposed to be a way to announce your arrival to the deities.”

Jungkook shakes it, the twinkling of the bell echoing in the large room. “Pretty,” he remarks as he places it back where it belongs.

He then follows your lead as you move towards the main shrine, your heart pounding in your chest as you realize what you're about to do. An angel of the Christian God at the altar of a different one? You're almost afraid you'll be struck down where you stand.

He takes in the offerings with a small smile. "It's all quite beautiful," he remarks. "It's a shame that their gods aren't real."

You know Jungkook means no harm and that it is what he has been conditioned to think for thousands of years, but you still bristle at his easy dismissal of their beliefs. “We’re real. Our God is real. Who’s to say the gods of their religion are not?”

"There is one God. That is what we were taught."

"Yes, it is. But we were also led to believe the withering was real. Just because it is said does not mean that it is true.”

Jungkook is silent for a moment, eyes still fixed on the offerings. Then he turns to you. "You truly believe that?"

"I don't know," you confess, feeling a little exposed. “I don't know what I believe anymore. I'm just… questioning. It's complicated."

"You have given me a lot to think about," he admits, his tone quiet. “For all I know, you might be right. I shouldn't have dismissed their beliefs so easily. I apologize.”

You stare at him in surprise; you hadn't expected him to back down so easily. "It's okay," you reassure him. "I'd say being open-minded is another lesson, but unfortunately, not all humans are."

You continue to walk around the city, introducing Jungkook to as many things as possible. Everything he does fills you with affection, whether it be him trying hot dogs from a street vendor and declaring them divine, or joining some kids who were playing soccer in a park. At one point, he kicks the ball so hard that it lands in a tree branch, and you can’t help but laugh as he clumsily climbs up to retrieve it.

When night falls, you end up at the pier, watching the shimmering water beneath the stars. Jungkook is oddly quiet, looking out at the horizon with a distant expression. The silence isn't uncomfortable, but it does leave you feeling a little uneasy. You reach for his hand, and he startles slightly before turning to look at you.

"Penny for your thoughts?" you ask.

He smiles slightly. “I’m guessing that’s some sort of human expression, and you’re not actually going to give me a penny.”

“You would be correct.”

“I’m thinking about a lot of things.” He exhales as if letting out a breath he has been holding. "You, for one. But I'm always thinking of you so that much isn't a surprise." You blush and swat at his arm. "But I’m also thinking about my beliefs."

"What about them?"

He takes a moment to get his thoughts in order, grabbing your hand more tightly as if you're his anchor in a stormy sea. He answers your question with another. "What if everything we have been taught is wrong? I mean, we have never spoken with the Almighty directly. Angels, apostles, they can all take His words and twist them for their own purposes. We've seen it in action with Namsu, and with how the Bible has been changed to promote hatred."

You're taken aback by his frankness, the depth of his vulnerability. You have no answers for him, but you can relate to him and offer what little understanding you have come to have.

"So maybe it is wrong, and things have gotten taken out of context or changed as the years have gone on. Like you said, we cannot talk to Him, so we can’t ask for the truth. Or, maybe it is all part of a bigger plan, and unwavering faith is the answer.” You pause, steeling your resolve, before continuing, “But it isn’t for me. I can’t live that way. But how you decide to live is your choice. Who you are is your choice. I cannot decide that for you, and neither can He.”

He frowns. "I don't know how to make that choice. Who even am I? What am I without my purpose? Without Him?"

"Perhaps we're not defined by a single purpose we've been given," you answer quietly. "Maybe we're more than that."

"More than our purpose?"

"Yeah," you say, a soft smile tugging at your lips. "Maybe we don't need a purpose. Maybe it's okay to just exist."

Jungkook’s gaze turns thoughtful, considering your words as if they are the most precious thing in the world. "Just exist," he repeats, his voice barely above a whisper. After a moment, he stands up, looking at you with a newfound fire blazing in his eyes. "I need to return. I will talk to some of my confidants, gather information, and then confront Namsu."

You knew it was coming, but your stomach still drops. You're scared for him, for what will happen when he leaves. But you see the determination in his eyes, the steel in his gaze. You know better than to try and stop him now.

"You'll be careful, right?" you ask, your voice shaking slightly.

"I will."

He pulls you up and envelops you in his arms. His embrace is comforting, protective, and for a brief moment, it makes you forget about all your worries.

"Promise me," you whisper into his chest.

"I promise," he says, his hands rubbing soothing circles on your back. He pulls away after a moment, but not before brushing his lips against your temple. "I will return. For you."

His words weigh heavy in the air as he pulls away fully, breaking the physical contact between you two. His gaze lingers on you for another moment before he turns away and disappears into the night. You're left standing on the pier alone, the cold wind making you shiver. Wrapping your arms around yourself, you head back to Lost Star, where you have nothing to do but wait.

It’s Christmas Eve before you know it. The holiday you have been dreading feels even worse with Jungkook’s absence, and frankly, you don’t know how to handle it. You plaster a smile on your face for the sake of the children, playing along with their excitement over what presents they are going to get and stories of Santa Claus. But every time someone brings Jungkook up, wondering where he is, you feel tempted to run to Naomi’s office and hide.

Speaking of Naomi, she has been keeping a close watch over you, mothering you as per usual. You know she can tell that something has happened. Once you step away from the festivities to do some of your work, she pulls you aside.

“Honey, what’s going on? These days you seem so out of it; you’re just flitting around room to room, acting like a ghost.” When you don’t answer, she frowns. “It’s because of that boy, isn’t it?”

"He… he needed to go home. He had some things he needed to figure out," you manage to say. It's not a lie, just an oversimplification of the truth.

She wraps an arm around you. "He's going to come back. I saw the way he looked at you, and you at him. And if he doesn't, well, screw him."

"Naomi!"

"Sorry, sorry. He was sweet and all, but you're my girl. I'll always have your back." Naomi declares, patting you on the back.

You accept her comfort, fighting back your tears. If only she knew your fear didn’t revolve around him coming back—of course, part of you is scared that something will happen to him, but the rational part of your brain, the part that knows his strength, has no doubts he'll be alright. In actuality, your biggest fear is that he won't be able to stay with you, and you’ll have to go through the pain of losing him all over again.

He's an angel. You're human. There's no future there. Your traitorous heart made you fall harder and harder for him without sparing that a moment's thought, and now you have to will yourself to accept that you'll always be in love with someone you cannot have.

The rest of the day passes in a blur, nothing but forced cheer and mindless chatter. Naomi sticks by your side as much as she can, making sure to redirect everyone who asks you questions about Jungkook. You're grateful for her presence, her constant support, and now more than ever, you realize how lucky you truly are to have her in your life.

As soon as everyone is in bed and your tasks for the day are done, you seek out the solitude of the pier once again. You've been coming here daily since he left. A sentimental thing, mostly, since it was the last place you saw him. But you also hope each night will be the night he returns.

The wind is strong tonight, the kind that chills you down to your bones, and the stars are hidden behind the clouds. You wrap your scarf more tightly around yourself, gazing aimlessly at the turbulent water. Suddenly, there's a bright light and a shrill noise. You aren't scared this time, and it's not nearly as overwhelming as it was. He must have tempered it somehow, made it less painful for you.

The light fades, leaving behind a figure that is unmistakably Jungkook. The sight of him fills you with such relief and happiness that you rush forward, throwing your arms around him. He envelops you in his arms, his wings folding around you, a sigh of contentment escaping his lips as he buries his face in your hair.

"I missed you very much," he says, breathing deeply.

"I missed you too," you whisper, tears prickling at your eyes. "I knew you'd come back."

"I said I would, didn't I?" he teases, pulling away just enough to look at you. "And I have news."

"What happened?"

You stay locked in his embrace as he speaks, bringing one of your hands to his face to stroke his cheek, to follow the line of his jaw with your fingers. He lets you, as eager to feel your touch as you are to feel his.

"I confronted Namsu," he begins. "But I wasn't alone. There were other angels who had started the 'degradation' process, those who were too fearful of retribution to say anything. I told them everything, and we confronted the other Thrones about Namsu and everything he had done. They didn’t approve of his actions, and they punished him for it."

"Really?" You ask, eyes wide with surprise. "Just like that? They believed you?"

A soft laugh bubbles up from him. "It wasn't quite that simple. There was plenty of arguing, plenty of disbelief. I’d never seen anything like it. But in the end, Namsu was banished from the celestial realm."

Relief washes over you at his words, the tension you hadn't even realized you were carrying leaving your body. "That's incredible.”

Jungkook shrugs slightly, but there’s an unmistakable look of pride in his eyes. "I’m just glad he has gotten what he deserves. Now you have justice." He places a gentle kiss on your forehead.

"And what about the others? The ones who have started to degrade?" Your heart clenches at the thought of them being punished for something beyond their control.

"They're safe," Jungkook assures you quickly. "The Thrones have promised to take care of it all. They're going to convene with Him, to see if the Heavenly teachings can be altered. Things are changing up there; I think it's all going to be alright."

You're overwhelmed with emotion, both relief and dread tugging at you simultaneously. It is good to know that things will be changing, but what is done to you has been done. And now, Jungkook has no reason to stay with you. You take a step back from him.

"What about you?" you ask quietly, barely daring to meet his gaze.

"What about me?"

"You have no reason to stay anymore. You can return to your normal duties. You did what was right, and everything is fixed."

"I did what was right, yes, and I'm sure things will be much better from now on," Jungkook agrees. But he steps forward, taking your hands in his and looking deep into your eyes. "But now, I need to do what's right for me."

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, my star." Your heart stutters at the endearment. "I'm not going anywhere. I want to be with you."

"But… you can only do that if you're—"

"Human, yes," he interrupts.

"Jungkook! You can't! You can't Fall for me," you half-shout, half-whisper. "You're a good angel, you—"

"Y/N." The force behind his voice stops you. "Even before you showed me the beauty of being human, before I knew how to feel, before I even knew what love was, I would have done anything for you.” His confession takes your breath away, and you wobble on your feet, moving a few steps back from him in your shock. “If you had simply asked it of me, I would have stood with you in the fires of hell for all eternity and still been grateful for each moment spent at your side."

The tears you were holding back begin to fall. "You would have?"

“I would. I can. I will.” He moves closer to you with each beat between words until he stands directly in front of you, only a hair's breadth away. Gently, hesitantly—as if for the first time—he takes your hand and presses it to his chest right above where a human heart would be. “Just say the words, and I will fall for you. I will forsake myself and turn my back on Heaven. The pain of losing my wings will be inconsequential compared to the pain of having to be without you.”

"W-what words?"

He smiles, eyes crinkling at the edges. "You know what I want to hear. Be honest. Even better, be selfish, like a human. Tell me what you really want, and I will oblige."

You hesitate. You have been fighting your feelings this entire time, so sure of the fact that Jungkook would choose to continue his life as an angel. You never wanted him to Fall for you, to be torn away from the life he has always known the way you were. But he deserves to make the choice himself. If he wants your honesty, you will give it to him.

"Speak, Y/N," Jungkook urges, his gaze never leaving yours.

"I want…" You begin slowly, your voice barely a whisper. "I want you. I want you to stay with me." He grins, relief clear in his eyes. "Then I will."

"But you shouldn't have to Fall!"

"Fall or not, it won't change anything," he assures you. "I chose this path before even knowing there was a choice. I chose you from the second we were created.”

"Even if that means giving up everything?" you ask.

Jungkook’s expression softens. He reaches up and tucks a wayward lock of hair behind your ear. "Does it seem like I’m giving up everything?" he muses aloud, his eyes never leaving yours. "Because from where I stand, it seems like I’m gaining everything.”

"Smooth-talker,” you laugh, a tear slipping down your cheek. He brushes it off with his thumb, his gaze softening even further.

For a moment, you just stand there, looking at each other. It's quiet except for your breathing and the sound of waves crashing against the pier. You have been so afraid of asking him to make this choice, and yet he seems so certain about it, as if it was what he wanted all along.

"Are you sure about this?" you ask him one more time, seeking reassurance. "Once done, there's no going back."

His answer is immediate, "I've never been more sure about anything in my life."

"This will change everything," you say again.

"I know," he replies simply.

"Come find me when it's over," you whisper, placing a gentle kiss to his lips. "I'll be at the shelter."

As you go to leave, you can't help but glance back over your shoulder at Jungkook, taking in the appearance of him and his wings one last time. He's still standing there, watching you go with love evident in his gaze. It quells some of your worries. And then you blink, and he’s gone.

The hours that creep by feel like days. You busy yourself with meaningless tasks, cleaning the office, flipping through an old book left on the table, scrolling TikTok. None of it does anything to dull your anxiety, and you're weighing the pros and cons of tearing your hair out before you finally hear a knock on the door. You shoot up to your feet, heart pounding in your chest. Slowly, you open the door, and there he stands. "I'm here," he says simply. "As I promised."

You pull him into a hug once again, burying your head into his chest. You can hear the beat of his human heart and, unable to stop yourself, you burst into tears. You know the pain he just went through, can remember experiencing it yourself like it was yesterday, and you can hardly believe he went through something so awful to be with you.

"I'm sorry," you whisper, tightening your hold on him. "I'm so sorry."

"Don't be," he coos, gently stroking your hair. "This was my choice."

You swallow hard and pull back from him so you can look into his eyes, searching for any sign of regret. You find none.

"Are you okay?" You ask anyway, your heart aching at the thought of what he has given up.

"I am," he assures, his voice full of conviction. He leans down, pressing a soft kiss against your lips, and when he pulls away, he's smiling. "I wondered if doing that would feel different now that I'm fully human."

"And does it?" you ask, smiling back up at him.

"Yes," he admits, tracing an invisible line down your cheek, your neck, your collarbone. You shiver at his touch. "It feels more real. Stronger somehow. It's like you're the break of dawn after a long night."

Your breath catches in your throat. "Being human certainly hasn't changed the fact that you have a way with words."

"Only when it comes to you," he replies, his fingers never ceasing their journey across your skin. They make their way back to your waist, where he plays with the hem of your shirt. "There's one lesson we never covered, you know."

"A-and what would that be?" you squeak as his fingers caress the smooth skin of your stomach.

His voice drops lower, and he tugs you closer by your belt loops. "Human intimacy."

You flush at his audacity but don't pull away. "And what would be the best way for me to teach you about that?"

"Hm…" He leans down so that his lips hover over yours, and you can feel his warm breath with each word he speaks. "I think I would respond well to some hands-on practice."

Your heartbeat thunders in your ears as his lips press against yours in a slow, searing kiss that turns your knees to jelly. He takes his time exploring your mouth, his lips moving delicately against yours. His hands are warm on your skin, trailing up and down your back as he pulls you closer.

"Then I suppose we should get started," you manage to whisper when you finally break apart, breathless.

Jungkook moves into the room, closing the door behind him, and sits down on the edge of the pull-out bed. He stares up at you, his once-innocent doe eyes now dark and hooded with desire. You float towards him as if being pulled by a magnet, and he pulls you down so that you’re straddling his lap. Your hands rest on his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat under your touch.

"I think I should warn you," he says, hands sliding down to rest right above the curve of your ass, "I might be a slow learner."

You roll your eyes, a short, playful chuckle escaping from your lips. "I think I can handle that."

The room fills with an easy silence as you continue to explore each other, experiencing sensations new for the both of you. His hands trace every curve and dip of your body, his touch curious yet surprisingly confident. Your fingers trace the lines of his face, his jaw, his chest, and then find their way under his shirt to the newly-formed scars on his back. They are rough against your fingertips, a stark contrast to the rest of his smooth skin.

"You aren't in pain?”

“No,” he assures you, his hands sliding to a similar position on your own back. "Were you for long after?"

"No, but I'm still worried," you smile sheepishly.

He laughs and kisses your nose. "Don't be. Don't feel like you have to be gentle with me. I won't break."

You laugh in return, your eyes twinkling with delight and a touch of mischief. "Is that a challenge, Jungkook?"

He hums in response, his gaze never leaving yours. "Maybe."

His teasing reply only spurs you on. Rising to the bait, you lean in to kiss him, this time with a boldness that leaves him momentarily stunned. But he recovers quickly, matching your fervor and deepening the kiss. Your hands weave into his hair, pulling him closer, and his hips jut up against you almost involuntarily. You moan at the sensation, and he stills.

"What was that?" he asks.

"That," you breathe out, "is what human intimacy sounds like."

"I want to hear it again."

His lips find yours again and this time it's deep and demanding, all teeth and tongue and the promise of what’s to come. His hands grab your waist, forcing you to grind down against him as he once again lifts his hips up to meet your core. Another moan escapes your lips, the sound quickly swallowed by his hungry mouth. He tugs at the hem of your shirt, his fingertips skimming against the skin of your lower back. Eagerly, you lift your arms, and he pulls it off over your head.

"Jungkook…" you whimper, clutching at his shoulders. He responds by nuzzling into your neck, his hot breath making you shiver with pleasure.

"You're so beautiful," he murmurs against the curve of your neck, his lips tracing the column of your throat, down to your chest.

He places a gentle kiss above each breast before descending lower still, sucking one into his mouth. His lips and tongue move expertly, drawing gasps from you as your nerves ignite with pleasure. His hands are firm on your waist, holding you securely against him as he devotes himself entirely to exploring the new terrain, and you grind against him wantonly. You can feel that your panties are soaked with the proof of your desire.

"Jungkook," you say again, your hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. His name is a plea, a prayer. "I need more."

He pulls back, his lips swollen from his ministrations. "And so I'll give it to you."

You eagerly crawl off of him, shimmying out of your jeans, before settling with your back against the pillows. You grab at the air, beckoning him closer. He does the same, now only in his boxers, and slots himself on top of you, his bare skin against yours intensifying the burning desire coursing through your veins. His hard length presses against your core, and you whine.

"I don't know what I'm doing," he admits in a low voice, his hot breath fanning against your face as his eyes search yours for assurance.

You reach up, caressing his cheek. "It's okay," you soothe him, your hands then trailing down his back to rest on his hips, encouraging him closer. "We'll figure it out together."

His lips find your neck as his hands explore every inch of you, his rough fingers exploring the softness of your flesh. He slides one down over your stomach and lower still, feather-light touches teasing you until you're gasping beneath him. His fingers trace the edge of your panties before sliding the fabric down. You lift your hips, aiding him in removing the last barrier between you. He tosses them aside before returning his attention to you, his fingers skimming along your trembling thighs. His fingers move gradually, inching steadily upward until he's touching you where you're most sensitive. You let out a soft gasp, gripping the sheets.

"Is this okay?" he asks. You nod eagerly, unable to get the words out, and he chuckles, placing a gentle kiss at the base of your throat. "Good."

Always the over-achiever, he slides down your body until his face is level with your core, focusing intently on his work. His fingers move with a slow, calculated rhythm that quickly has you dripping for him. Eventually, he slips one of his fingers inside of you. Your breath hitches, your hands clutching at his shoulders for support.

"Am I doing this right?" he asks, uncertainty creeping into his voice as he looks up at you from between your thighs.

"You must be," you gasp out, encouraging him with a roll of your hips. "Don't stop."

Grinning, he adds a second finger, working you open until you're panting and squirming beneath him. Your back arches off the bed as his fingers work their magic, curling in just the right way that has you seeing stars. Praise tumbles from your lips, but you're sure that it just sounds like nonsense, your thoughts too muddled to form coherent words.

"You're so wet," he murmurs in a low, gravelly voice that only adds fuel to your desire.

Without warning, he lowers his mouth to your core, his lips and tongue joining his exploring fingers. The sensation is electric; your breath hitches, and an animalistic moan escapes you. He takes it as a sign of encouragement, doubling his efforts. Your fingers find their way to his hair, threading into the dark strands, seeking purchase. You can't help but pull, and he moans against you, the vibrations only furthering your pleasure.

"Jungkook," you warn, "I'm—"

A coil of white heat tightens within you before snapping. His name slips from your lips as you climax, sparks dancing behind your eyelids as he continues to pleasure you, eagerly lapping up your release. He doesn't stop, not until you physically pull him away from you, body shaking with overstimulation. He climbs back up your body, his lips finding yours in a gentle kiss. You can taste yourself on his lips.

"You okay?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

His pupils are blown out with desire, his hair slicked back with sweat, and he's so attractive that just the sight of him has you clenching your thighs together.

You nod, cupping his face in your hands. "More than okay," you assure him. "That was amazing. Now," you slide your fingers down his chest, sliding over the waistband of his boxers. "Let's see what we can do about you."

You hook your thumbs around the fabric and pull them downwards, and he does the rest of the work, kicking them off. You reach down, your fingers tentatively wrapping around his cock. He gasps, his head falling forward against your chest as you begin to stroke him with a slow, measured rhythm.

He nearly whines, his grip tightening on your hips. "That feels… I can't…" His words dissolve into soft, broken moans as you continue to work him over.

Suddenly overtaken with need, you stop, pulling him in for another searing kiss. "I need you inside of me, Jungkook," you gasp against his lips, "Please."

Your hand guides him back to your core, and his breath hitches. “Are you ready?”

Nodding, you lift your hips to meet him. He pushes into you carefully, slowly, each inch an intense sensation for both of you. Your body clenches around him as if welcoming him home, a strangled moan escaping your lips. One of his hands clasps yours, bringing it to rest on the side of your head while he buries his face in the crook of your neck, his heavy breaths fanning your skin. He's shaking against you, and you feel just as overwhelmed.

You squeeze the hand that's holding yours, urging him on. "You're okay," you whisper, "I'm okay. Move."

He nods, pulling out almost all the way before thrusting back inside of you. Your body jolts at the sensation, gasping his name over and over.

"You feel incredible," he breathes out, the statement more for himself than for you. “So perfect.” Your fingers thread through his hair once more, pulling him down to meet your lips.

His hips set a steady rhythm, filling the room with soft sounds of skin on skin and heavy panting. He lets out a low groan as he adjusts his angle, hitting a spot inside of you that has you crying out and grabbing at him wherever you can reach. You wrap your legs around his waist, throwing your head back against the pillows.

"That's it," you whine, "Right there. It feels so good—"

Your words cut off into a choked moan as he thrusts into you at that exact spot again and again, his movements becoming more erratic. He's close—you can tell by the way his body tenses and how he gasps desperately into your mouth.

"I'm… I'm—" he stammers out, breath hitching between each word.

"I know," you gasp out, meeting him thrust for thrust. "Me too."

You pull him as close as possible, holding him to you as you both chase your release. Your eyes squeeze shut, and your nails dig into his skin as a wave of pleasure crashes over you, even more intense than the last. You moan his name as you come, shuddering beneath him. He moans into your neck as he follows you over the edge, his hips bucking uncontrollably as he buries himself deep inside you.

He collapses on top of you, burying his face in the crook of your neck, his heavy breathing tickling your skin. He stays there, nestled inside of you, his heart pounding against your chest, matching the rapid rhythm of your own. You feel dizzy, your senses overwhelmed by him—his scent, his taste, the feel of him on top of you and within you. You caress his back, slowly tracing the contours of his scars with gentle strokes, the action soothing for both of you.

Eventually, he shifts, carefully pulling himself out of you and collapsing onto his back next to you. His hand searches blindly for yours, lacing your fingers together once he finds it. He brings your joined hands up to his lips and places a soft kiss on your knuckles.

"Is… are you…" He lifts his head to meet your eyes, unable to form words.

"I'm more than okay," you assure him softly, brushing a stray lock of hair off his forehead.

"Good," he whispers, a contented sigh escaping him.

His eyes roam over your face once more before closing, his grip on your hand tightening ever so slightly. Together, you lay there under the sheets, and the silence goes on for so long that you almost think he fell asleep.

Then suddenly, you hear him say, voice barely above a whisper, "I love you." You look over to see him staring up at you with adoration in his gaze and a soft smile on his lips. "I know I don't have to say it since surely there can be no doubt that everything I have done for you is out of love. But I want to say it anyway. I want to continue saying it for the rest of my life. I have loved you since before I even had the capacity to feel it, and I will continue to love you until time ceases to exist."

His confession leaves you breathless, and you can do little but turn on your side, grab his face, and place a gentle kiss on his lips. Tears prick at the corner of your eyes, threatening to spill down your cheeks.

"I love you too, Jungkook," you whisper against his lips, "So very, very much."

He lets out an audible sigh of relief as if he had been holding his breath, waiting for your response. His free hand reaches out to caress your cheek, wiping away a tear that had managed to escape. "I knew you would say so, but I'm happy to hear it all the same."

The two of you get ready for bed, and, for the first time since commandeering Naomi’s office, you fall asleep together in each other's arms.

The day you have been dreading has arrived—Christmas. Despite your initial hatred, however, you find yourself actually participating in the festivities around the shelter. Just like as many others do, you aren't going to consider it a holy day. You're going to use it as an excuse to be happy and spend time with your loved ones.

You join the group of children who sit by the pile of gifts, their excitement palpable as they eagerly wait for Naomi to declare it time to open them. Small hands tug at Jungkook’s sleeve, pulling him down to their level as they bombard him with questions about where he's been. He settles down amongst them, answering their questions as honestly as he can. His eyes meet yours over the sea of eager faces, and he stretches out a hand towards you, inviting you to join him. You sit right on his lap, making some of the kids giggle.

"Alright, everyone, it's time!" Naomi's voice echoes through the shelter, immediately quieting the children down.

As each name is called out and the kids scramble to collect their gifts, you can't help but smile. The pure delight on their faces is infectious. Noticing your happiness, Jungkook pulls you back so that you’re leaning against his chest, his arms wrapping around your waist.

He places a gentle kiss on your neck, murmuring, "You seem happy."

"I am," you say, placing your hands over his. "The holidays aren't so bad with you around."

"I'm glad." He turns your head so he can place a quick kiss on your lips, one that is light and soft and sweet, full of love. "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, Jungkook," you echo, smiling brightly.

Later, Naomi corners the two of you, pulling you aside. "I've been thinking about what to give you," she says. "I—"

"Naomi, you don't have to give me anything!"

"Don't interrupt me," she scolds, but there's no bite behind it. "Like I was saying, I was thinking it over, and I realized that the best gift I could offer is not anything material. From tomorrow on, you will officially be a supervisor. A paid supervisor."

Your eyes widen in surprise, and you glance at Jungkook, who is beaming at you with pride. You turn back to Naomi, stuttering out a response.

"B-but Naomi, I couldn't possibly—"

"Yes, you can," she interrupts, her tone firm. "From the day you arrived here, you have been working as hard as any of us. You deserve this." Before you can argue any further, she thrusts a small envelope into your hands. "Consider it an early Christmas gift and your first paycheck. And my office? It's yours."

"Thank you, Naomi," you manage, your voice choked with emotion. You pull her into a hug, hoping it can express everything you don't know how to say.

She pats your back, chuckling. "If anything, it's an excuse for me to take some time off. I'm getting old and need to start sharing the burden. Don't expect it to be a walk in the park!"

You pull away, wiping a stray tear from your eye. "Of course not. I'm ready to be worked to the bone, ma'am."

"That's what I like to hear," she comments, her voice carrying an undertone of pride. She turns to Jungkook, her gaze soft but words sharp. "Take care of her, will you?"

"Always," he replies without a moment's hesitation, which earns him a small nod from Naomi.

Eventually, the celebrations wind down and people start to retreat to their beds until only you and Jungkook remain. Instead of doing the same, you decide to return to the pier and watch the water for a bit, not ready for the day to end. The two of you walk in comfortable silence, hands linked tightly as if promising not to let go.

Sitting at the edge of the pier, Jungkook wraps an arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer to him. His body heat seeps into your skin, fighting away the cold, and you rest your head on his chest, letting his strong, steady heartbeat lull you into contentment.

"Who would've thought we would end up here?" you reflect, staring out at the ocean.

Jungkook laughs softly, his chest rumbling beneath your ear. "I don't think either of us could have predicted this."

"I never thought I would be happy that any of this happened, but I am. Are you?"

His gaze softens as he takes in the sight of you. "More than I could possibly put into words," he admits.

"Will you miss it, though? Heaven?"

"I thought I would," he says, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. "But Earth has its own kind of heaven. You're here. Naomi is here. The children are here. I have so much more yet to discover, to experience." His gaze returns to you, eyes soft and full of love. "How could I miss anything when I have all of this?”

Your heart swells at his words, his declaration warming you like nothing else could. You reach up to cup his face, your fingers lightly brushing his lips. His eyes flutter shut for a moment at your touch before opening again to hold your gaze.

"You're right," you whisper, your voice barely carrying over the sound of the waves. "This is our heaven. Here, with each other. And who knows, maybe we'll end up back there someday."

"You think?" Jungkook asks, raising an eyebrow. "I must say, I'm a little surprised hearing that from you. I didn't think you had faith anymore or wanted it for that matter."

You shrug. "Honestly, I don't know. I don't have my original beliefs anymore, that's for sure, but I don't resent it all like I once did, either. I think I've just found a new kind of faith. A faith in myself, in people, in goodness, and in love. There are so many different kinds of religions out there, and at their core, they're all about trying to understand the world around us, trying to find ways to cope and move forward. I think that's what I'm doing now, in my own way."

"That's beautiful," Jungkook says, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "Somehow both simple and complex. Just like life itself, I suppose."

"And what about you, Jungkook?” you ask, pecking him on the lips. How will you move forward?"

"Honestly, I'm not sure, either. But I think I'm happy to find out, as long as it's with you."

You hold each other close, each hoping your touch can express what no words could possibly convey. Love. Gratitude. Hope. The promise of a shared journey. What more could you possibly ask for?

TAGLIST: @yessa-vie

#jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook angst #jeon jungkook fluff #jeon jungkook smut #jungkook imagines #jungkook scenarios #bts imagines #bts scenarios #bts smut #bts angst #bts fluff #bts au #jungkook au #my fic #collab

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thewintersoldierdisaster · 6 months

Text

a/n: a little festive mat fic! written fairly quickly and minimally edited, but i wanted to get something out for the holiday! not too much more to say except i hope you guys all have a wonderful holiday and i’ll be quiet for the rest of the year, writing and stockpiling fics lol

word count: 4.8k

tw: a little innuendo, nothing crazy

summary: after spending the day hanging out with the team, you have some news for mat

“The snow was a nice touch,” you grin at Holly Horvat. A light dusting of snow is falling outside, the grass in the Horvats’ backyard already white.

Holly laughs, “oh, you know me. I have a connect to make sure even the weather is perfect for our events.” She pours M&Ms into a few small ramekins that are going to be placed around the kitchen island and dining room table where the kids will be decorating gingerbread houses.

The house is bustling with people and noise and you can’t help but love it. You miss having huge family gatherings, ever since your parents moved off Long Island and down south. The rest of your family is scattered to the winds, so it’s nice to be folded into the big team family get togethers. Joining a group of women who love any excuse to throw a party has been one of the biggest benefits from your relationship with Mat.

Half a dozen kids run past you - you spot the Bailey boys and Brock’s two oldest kids in the group as they blur by - holding jackets and their sneakers. “Mini sticks is getting moved outside,” Noah grins as he breezes past you, swiping a handful of M&Ms from the little bowl.

“Stay warm,” you tease, watching him follow the kids out the back door. A parade of adult men follow him - Wahlly, Casey, Josh, Brock, and finally Mat, who stops to give your waist a little squeeze.

“Kiss for luck?” He asks, puckering his lips at you in a dramatic duck face. You giggle and plant one on him, pulling back before he can slip his tongue past your lips.

Mat leans slightly against you, his face a little flushed already from the twenty minutes of mini sticks that’s been going on in the basement. “What do you need luck for?” You ask, carding your fingers through his hair.

“Jacky’s got a wicked wrister,” Mat grins, referring to Casey’s oldest, “and no idea how to aim. Do you know how many pucks to the head I’ve dodged?”

A snort of laughter makes Mat’s lips turn down in a frown. “Oh, I guess you just don’t care about my health,” he sighs dramatically, pulling away from your side. “It’s fine. I’ll take a slap shot to the head and then you’ll see how much you miss my charming personality.”

“Dramatics,” you murmur affectionately, hooking your fingers in his belt loops. “He’s five and you guys use a Nerf ball. I think you’ll live.”

“Maaaat!” Jack comes barreling through the room and crashes into your fiancé’s legs. “C’mon! Everybody’s outside.” The little boy looks adorable in his puffer coat, a little beanie pulled haphazardly over his blonde hair. He wrinkles his face up at Mat in an impatient frown and you can’t help but egg him on.

“Yeah, Mat,” you prod him in the side, looking innocent, “everyone’s outside already.”

He rolls his eyes at you, but grins down at Jack and swoops him into his arms, making Jack shriek with laughter. You prop your chin in the palm of your hand and watch Mat tickle Jack’s belly while he carries him outside. Jack’s little sneakered feet are kicking in the air, narrowly avoiding Mat’s head.

“He’s really good with the kids,” Kristy Cizikas comments, coming into the kitchen with baby Cole propped on her hip.

You scrunch up your face at Cole to make him laugh, “it’s because he’s a big kid himself, right Coley? Huh? Is Matty a big kid?” You giggle at your own baby talk and warmth blooms in your chest when you’re rewarded with a gummy baby smile. “Ooh, you make cute babies,” you tell Kristy.

She shakes her head affectionately, “I swear, they’re all Casey. It’s like my genes didn’t even try.”

“Hey, in like six months you and Mat can start catching up to the rest of us,” Sydney Martin teases, easily passing Alice to you when you reach out for the one-year-old. Alice immediately grabs a chunk of your hair and you wince, untangling chubby fingers from the strands.

You hum noncommittally as you work. “We’ll see what happens,” you shrug. “Might be nice to just be the two of us for a bit.”

“But don’t you want that all the time?” Syd laughs, gesturing to you now that Alice’s fingers are hooked in your mouth. You pretend to nibble on them, making her shriek with laughter. She finishes helping Holly set out the candy, knowing the rest of the kids will start wandering their way into the kitchen.

“One day, definitely,” you nod, settling Alice more securely on your lap, one arm looped around her stomach. The little girl slaps her palms happily on the countertop and you giggle, resting your chin on her head. “No rush though.”

As you settle at the table with the kids, the other guys trail in and out of the backyard, the noise of mini sticks floating inside.

You get to be in charge of Alice during decorating, sitting in between Syd with Winnie and Ashlee with Luca while the kids decorate their pre-made houses. You squirt a line of frosting onto the roof and Alice uses her little pincer grip to place M&Ms on the line. “Oh, good job,” you tell her in a bright, encouraging voice. She rewards you with a half melted piece of candy smushed against your cheek.

“Mommy,” Winnie’s little voice pipes up, “Ali’s makin’ a mess.”

“So are you, Win,” Sydney laughs, wiping up a smudge of frosting off of Winnie’s sweater. “Everyone is going to make a little bit of a mess and that’s okay.”

From your spot at the island, you can see right out the back door and you watch the mini sticks tournament that’s happening. Kids versus adults and honestly, it looks like the adults are having a rough go of it. Mat’s on the ground, a pile of children fighting him. Whally has Cal’s oldest on his shoulders and you honestly wonder how that ended up happening. Sticks have been discarded and the Nerf pucks are strewn around. You watch Casey pull Jack out of the pile on top of Mat, his little arms and legs kicking. From the ground, Mat jokingly sticks his tongue out at Jack and you shake your head. Of course he has beef with a five-year-old.

Bo and Gunnar join the fun outside and Mat slaps the little boy’s hand in a high-five. Your stomach swoops a little. It’s always such a turn-on when Mat interacts with kids, but it’s a little different now.

Alice pats your hand and grumbles a little. “Whoops, sorry, Al,” you squeeze more frosting onto the house for her to decorate.

“Distracted?” Ashlee asks, pulling Luca’s frosting covered hand away from his hair. She wipes his fingers off with a napkin and gives him a pretzel to stick onto his little house. She pops another pretzel into her own mouth.

You hum. “Just making sure he’s not being totally steamrolled by a pack of kids,” you laugh lightly. While Alice works on the roof of her house, you put a few Starburts in place to act as a little pathway going to the door.

In the backyard, Mat stands up, Mack and Wyatt Bailey hanging from each arm. He shakes them gently and you can see both boys’ heads fall back with wild laughter. Meg looks up from where she’s helping Blake with a pattern of Smarties on her roof. “Honestly, if he wasn’t busy with, you know, his actual job,” she laughs, “I’d hire him as a babysitter. The kids loved when he lived with us.”

The entire kitchen of women laugh when the back door slides open and Mat steps back inside, shaking melted snow from his short hair. He stops and looks up, scanning the room full of laughing women. “What?” He asks, eyebrows drawn together. “I interrupt something? Want me to leave so you ladies can keep talking about me?” He laughs brightly, flashing his teeth.

“You can stay,” you offer generously, tilting your head up as he passes for a kiss. Mat’s hand is freezing when it cups your jaw and you flinch a little. He mumbles a ‘sorry’ against your lips before kissing them. When he pulls away, to a soundtrack of ‘awww’s from the women and a joking ‘get a room’ from Sydney, you continue, “but you have to take orders from toddlers, if you do.”

“Like I’m not already doing that,” he laughs, swiping a thumb over your cheekbone and sucking it into his mouth. “Frosting,” he explains, smirking. Your cheeks flush.

Winnie stands up on her chair and leans into you, poking at your cheek with her fingers. “Red, I wanna be red!” She bounces a little and looks over at Mat who scrunches up his whole face at her and tickles her sides, making her shriek with laughter and flop back into Sydney’s arms.

Sydney laughs and tickles Winnie’s side, “girlfriend, you’re collecting boyfriends around here like they’re Pokémon cards.”

Satisfied by the chaos he caused, Mat backs into the hallway, explaining, “I was sent to get more jackets and gloves and sh-stuff,” he course-corrects before letting the curse slip. “It’s freezing out there.”

He’s gone, rummaging through the massive hall closet, before reappearing wearing his own coat and holding an armful of the other guys’ outerwear.

“Who’s winning?” Holly teases, while you all watch Mat struggle to pull a beanie on without dropping anything. He fails spectacularly and gives up when he realizes that everything’s slowly falling to the floor.

Mat scoffs. “The kids, obviously. They’re unhinged,” he grins widely and you can tell he’s having a blast. There’s a chorus of his name being shouted from outside and Mat scoops up the dropped outerwear before dashing off to rejoin the fun.

Sydney leans in and nudges your side gently. “He’s going to be a great dad,” she whispers, smiling knowingly.

You chew at the inside of your cheek and manage a barely convincing smile. “One day, definitely,” you reply, holding an Oreo for Alice to chew at.

She shoots you a little side eyed look and you studiously ignore her, focusing on telling Reese Cizikas how great her house looks. Things start to get messy - well, messier - after a while and the kids get antsy until they’re turned loose from the table to run off around the house. While you clean up the candy, the guys come back inside with the older kids and you can’t help but laugh at how the three youngest men, including your fiancé, have kids hanging off of them.

“If you kids let go of the guys,” Holly says warmly, “I’ll pass around some hot chocolate.”

It’s a mad scramble for the kids to abandon Mat, Noah, and Oliver - and they actually look mildly offended when the kids just toss their jackets back at them in their dash for hot chocolate. You take some of the gear from Mat and lean up on your toes to kiss his cheek, “don’t look so sad, you can have another play date with your friends soon.”

“Menace,” Mat grins, reaching around to pinch at your ass.

“I’ll text Kristy,” you giggle, continuing the joke, “Jack can come over and beat you at mini sticks again.”

“I’m gonna toss your phone into the ocean,” Mat deadpans.

You lower your voice and lean closer to him to whisper, “how will I send all those pictures you like?”

“You can keep the phone,” Mat replies immediately and you laugh, tugging at the open edges of his jacket. He pulls you close and you wrap one arm around his waist, his body warm even though his hands and face are cold. You bury your face in his chest and stifle a yawn. Mat’s hand is warming your back where he rubs it up and down your spine. “Still feeling gross after that bug?”

“Not gross,” you tilt your head to look up at him, still cuddled against his chest, “just tired. Haven’t been sleeping well.”

“We can head home, if you want,” Mat offers, but you shake your head again. You like it when the whole group is together and you want to keep enjoying the time with your friends.

You pull back slightly from Mat’s arms, his hands still resting on your back. “I just need a little bit of sugar and I’ll be good to go,” you smile at him. His eyes twinkle before he leans down and plants a smacking, dramatic kiss on your lips.

“Good to go?” He teases when he pulls back.

“Not that kind of sugar,” you giggle, delighted by him always.

“You guys are disgustingly cute,” Ashlee says, breaking into the Mat Barzal bubble that you’ve been enveloped in for the last few minutes. You startle a little and some of the other wives laugh.

“Oh god, she forgot we’re even here,” Sydney shakes her head, an exaggerated frown on her lips.

Meg smirks, “thank god we interrupted them before it went too far.”

Your cheeks are warm from the teasing and Mat just turns on the charm, grinning widely at his teammates’ wives. “It’s all part of the Barzal charm,” he wiggles his eyebrows.

“What charm?” Bo chirps, coming into the kitchen with Tulsa on his hip. “All you’re good at is league mandated iPad time.”

“Don’t forget all the time he spends sitting on his ass on the ice,” Noah grins wickedly.

“Tell us,” Casey asks you, “is it part of his charm when he messes up common sayings?”

You giggle, sucking your lips into your mouth when Mat glares down at you.

“You guys suck,” Mat flips them off, immediately apologizing when he realizes some of the kids are still in the room. “Sorry, Holly, Meg.”

They waive off his apologies, sending him into the den with a tray of snacks for the kids. They’re watching a movie, Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer if the familiar music is to be believed, and you know half the dads are also in the den, napping on the couches. Mat disappears for a while too and you leave him to the movie, knowing he’s exhausted. You get to hang out with the girls for a few more hours, interspersed with hugs and drawings from Gunnar and Winnie, before the party starts to break up.

Everyone’s gone slowly and then all at once, and you and Mat are walking the three blocks towards your house. He bumps your hip with his as you walk, his fingers laced with yours. “You coming to the game tomorrow?” He asks, getting a sense of what the week ahead will look like.

“Mhm,” you hum, “I’m going to go with Syd, so I’m not sure if I’ll end up staying the whole game. So make sure you do all the good stuff in the first.”

Mat bumps your hip again and you laugh, the sound echoing in the cold air. “I save all my best stuff for you,” he retorts, unlocking the front door and letting you step inside before him. He winks at you, his entire face scrunching up in his terrible attempt.

You scoff at him and flip the switches to turn on the Christmas lights, bathing the whole house in the warm glow of multi-colored string lights. You sigh happily, loving the over the top decorations you’d insisted on and the way the entire house smells like pine and cinnamon from diffusers and candles left open but unlit. Mat crowds your space and kisses the back of your neck.

“Couch time?” He mumbles against your skin.

“Couch time,” you agree, muffling another yawn.

You race to the bedroom, changing out of your clothes as quick as possible to get into comfy sweats and sweatshirts. Mat tosses a pillow at your face to distract you, but you swat it out of the air, nearly getting your foot stuck in the leg of your sweats.

“You like when I’m a weighted blanket,” Mat says, voice muffled by the sweatshirt he’s pulling over his head. “Why are you racing me to be on top?”

You don’t waste time pulling on your sweatshirt in the room and instead dart back out to the hallway and skip down the stairs, flopping onto the couch in just your sweats, completely topless. Mat’s hot on your heels and grumbles when he sees you yanking the fabric over your head. Smugly, you reply, “I don’t wanna be squished today. I want to use you as a body pillow.”

He submits to his fate and flops down onto the couch, oversized enough that the two of you could lay side by side and be comfortable, and opens his arms for you to crawl onto his chest. The both of you love the soft pressure of the other person laying on top of them so you’ve had to come up with a contest over the course of your relationship - first person on the couch gets to be on top. More often than not, you end up sprawled over Mat since it’s an easy way to transition into couch sex.

Now, you’re so tired you definitely will be keeping all of your clothes on. But you hum happily when you settle on top of him, your knees tucked nicely against either side of his hips, straddling his lap. When you curl up against his chest, your lower back stretches pleasantly and you wiggle a little, wrapping your arms around his torso and tucking your head under his chin. Mat’s arms wrap around you, one hand covering the back of your head so his fingertips can stroke against the shell of your ear.

He pulls the decorative blanket off the back of the couch with his other hand and arranges it over your bodies, making sure his feet stick out on the end so he doesn’t overheat. “You good?” He asks, his jaw bumping against the top of your head when he speaks. You nod against him and close your eyes, settling into his warmth. Mat turns on the TV, flipping it to ESPN before letting his hand rest low on the curve of your back, fingers grazing the top of your ass.

Mat’s heart beats steadily under your cheek and his hand is warm where it rests on your head. Couch time is exactly what you needed today. Your eyelids flutter shut every so often and you must fall asleep for a little nap because the next thing you know, it’s darker outside and Mat is running his thumb over your cheekbone.

“Hey,” he whispers and you lift your head to look at him blearily, momentarily confused.

“Hi,” you mumble sleepily, brushing your nose against his chin. “What time’s it?”

“Just after 4:30,” he replies and now the TV’s playing a rerun of The Office. He chuckles at a joke and rubs his fingertips against your scalp in a little massage. “You’ve been out for like forty-five minutes and I would’ve let you sleep, but I’m starving.”

Your heart skips a beat and you’re fully awake now. “Oh, same,” you say casually, rolling off of Mat and tucking yourself against his side. “I actually would love a piece of that gingerbread house that I ordered.”

“Gingerbread house?” Mat raises an eyebrow. “When’d you get that?”

“It was delivered the other day,” you explain. “I wanted something cute for our first engaged Christmas.”

Mat sits up, taking you with him and you wiggle around so you’re sitting cross-legged on the couch, facing him. “I totally forgot to show it to you,” you shrug, proud of yourself for being so normal. “But why don’t you go take a look and bring me back a piece?”

“Yeah, okay,” Mat shrugs, scratching your scalp once before getting up. “Dessert before dinner usually means eating you out, but gingerbread is cool too.”

He says it so casually that you don’t really process what he says until he’s already in the kitchen. You bounce up on your knees to look at him over the back of the couch, yelping his name when it finally sinks in. He’s laughing as he pulls the new box down from where it’s been sitting on top of the fridge. “Took you long enough,” he laughs, popping the top of the white cardboard. “That nap really must’ve taken it out of you.”

You scowl at him but don’t reply, anxiously waiting to see his reaction to the gingerbread house. He pulls it out of the box and his lips quirk up in a little smile. “It’s cute,” he says, looking at the house, professionally decorated. “Way better than the ones the kids made today.”

A laugh works its way out of your mouth as he studies it, taking in the details. “Huh,” he mutters, more to himself than anything else, “three people. Must’ve read your order wrong, Squeaks.”

“Oh?” You breathe. “There were supposed to be me and you…” You trail off.

“Yeah, they’re here,” Mat reads the little names iced onto the gingerbread people. “There’s you and Mat and…” he falters, squinting at the third figure, bringing it closer to his face, “Baby B?”

He looks over at you, forehead creased and eyebrows drawn together over his nose. “Baby B?” He repeats the question and you smile carefully at him, hand sliding across the back of the couch so your fingertips rest on your stomach.

“Baby B,” you confirm shakily. Tears well at your lower lash line and you watch Mat for his reaction.

He blinks at you, eyes darting between your face, your stomach, and the gingerbread figure held in his hand. “Wait? Seriously?” He sounds dazed and you can’t blame him. You were freaked out when you took the test a week and a half ago. It’s been the hardest secret you’ve ever had to keep. “You’re…there’s a baby?” His eyes are wide and his jaw hangs open a little.

You nod. “It’s, um, been hanging out for like six-ish, seven weeks,” you whisper, flattening your hand over your stomach. Mat’s eyes track your movement and he exhales a shaky breath.

Mat breathes your name and crosses the room in a few large strides. He cups your cheeks in his hands and studies your face, wiping at the tears that drip from your eyes. “Hey, c’mon, why’re you crying?” He asks, panic edging his tone.

“I know it’s earlier than we planned,” you shrug, “I’m going to be insanely pregnant at the wedding. We won’t get to be, like, newlyweds at all and the honeymoon’s going to have to change or be cancelled altogether.” You ramble on, all of your stress releasing in run-on sentences. You already love the baby, but getting pregnant before the wedding definitely wasn’t the plan.

Mat chuckles a little and you realize it sounds a little watery, like he’s trying to hold back his own emotion. “We’ll figure it out,” he says gently, squatting down so he’s closer to your eye level. “I’m gonna be a dad?”

“Yeah,” you confirm again. “Are you freaking out? Because I’m freaking out.”

“I’m definitely freaking out,” Mat confirms on a hysterical little laugh. His fingers tremble a little against your cheeks. “But it’s a good thing, right? Like, we’re gonna make the coolest babies.”

You nod. “They’re going to have amazing hair,” you giggle wetly.

Mat leans forward to kiss you softly, tasting the tears on your lips. When he pulls back, he rests his forehead against yours, quietly breathing with you. “That, uh, wasn’t a stomach bug last week, was it?”

“No,” you shake your head against his. “I’ve had some pretty aggressive mid-morning sickness this past week.”

“How the hell did I miss that?” He asks and it’s mostly rhetorical because Mat is not the most observant of men on a good day, let alone during a week and a half period where they’re playing a game every other day.

You lean back and tap at your stomach with your fingers, “baby’s already pretty good about not inconveniencing you. It was bad after you’d already left for practice.”

“I kind of can’t believe our baby’s in there,” Mat says, looking down at your stomach. His hands fall to the back of the couch and his fingers twitch, like he wants to reach out and touch you, but he doesn’t.

“Me either,” you admit. “And I’ve had a week to get used to the idea.”

“Shit, Squeaks,” he shakes his head again, a little smile playing on his lips, “a baby. We’re gonna be in charge of a real baby.”

Your answering laugh is a little hysterical. You’re obviously not the first of your friends to have a baby, but it feels insane that you’re here, especially before the wedding. Your parents are going to be so annoyed. “Good thing we have friends who know what they’re doing,” you murmur, covering Mat’s hands with yours and lacing your fingers together. You look at your joined fingers and your heart lurches in your chest. Quietly, you ask him, “we’re going to be good at this, right?”

“Hell if I know,” Mat admits. You frown at him - that was less than reassuring, but at least he’s honest. He jolts a little, his eyebrows lifting into his hairline, and you cock your head at him in a silent question. “I realized,” he says, a little sheepishly, “that I never said I was happy about this, but I am. I’m excited, scared as shit, but excited.”

“Me too,” you let loose a relieved laugh. You hadn’t realized how much you needed to hear Mat say he was happy about the baby. It’s been a weight on your shoulders ever since that positive pink line appeared on the test. “Um, there is one thing you could do for me right now though.”

Mat perks up and nods, “yeah, whatever you need, babe. You’re going to be so sick of me and how attentive I’ll be.”

You have no doubt about that, but for now - “can you get me a piece of that gingerbread? I’ve been craving it since the stupid thing was delivered yesterday.”

Mat laughs and stands up to retrieve the cookie, much to your delight. It’s been taunting you for more than twenty-four hours now and you nibble at the gingerbread version of yourself happily. Mat flops down onto the couch next to you and you tuck yourself up against his side. His hand absently runs up and down your arm, his eyes focused in the direction of the TV, but not actually paying attention.

You’re quiet at his side, knowing he needs to process the news. You were lucky in that you were alone when you found out so you could freak out without Mat seeing just how scared you were. Now that it’s been a week of knowing and Mat’s reaction wasn’t a total meltdown, you can relax a little, even start to get excited about having a little summer baby. Mat will get to spend time with you and the baby since you’re due in late August, by your admittedly shaky math.

Subconsciously, Mat’s hand wanders down your side, splaying on your waist, fingers stretching to cover part of your stomach. He rubs his thumb against your ribs and a little huff of disbelief leaves his throat. “Too bad you’re not due before the wedding,” he says, looking down at you with a little smile, “she could’ve been in the wedding, like Gracie at Bearsy’s wedding.”

Your throat clogs with emotion, thinking of your baby being at the wedding, and you bury your face in Mat’s side so he can’t see how tears well up in your eyes again. “You can’t say cute shit like that to me right now,” you mumble, “my hormones are in overdrive.”

Mat pulls you onto his lap so you’re straddling his thighs. He kisses the corner of your mouth and you sigh, resting your arms on his shoulders. “Let me know when I can start saying cute shit,” his grin is shit-eating, “because I just realized that there’s a chance we could put the baby in the Cup this summer.”

“Gotta win it first,” you counter, teasing him. He rolls his eyes and lets his hands drift over your stomach, broad palms covering the expanse of the still flat area.

“Got a new motivation now,” Mat replies and even though he still looks stunned, you can see how excited he’s getting about the baby.

You look down at where his hands cover your stomach and it’s all too easy to picture his hands holding a newborn baby with his eyes and your nose, a little shock of Mat’s dark hair on its head.

You can’t wait.

#mat barzal #mat barzal x reader #mat barzal x you #mat barzal fic #mat barzal imagine #nhl fic

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russellsppttemplates · 6 months

Text

It's like we won't even be there (Lewis Hamilton)

Mercedes has three power couples

Note: english is not my first language. After a long time, I'm finally posting this request.

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tw: mentions gender inequality, misogynistic ideals

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog

"Everyone on social media has an inkling that you're bringing someone to the race. Is it your belle, Mr. Hamilton?", you teased your boyfriend as he got ready for bed.

You had arrived in Abu Dhabi a few hours earlier, caught a cab to the hotel where your boyfriend had been resting before media day.

"Is that so?", he wondered, "I haven't told anyone outside the team. And even them, I told them you would be joining as my guest, only a few people actually know about us", he assured.

"I don't mind it, we'll have to be public at some time. Three years dating outside of the public eye, plus another year of what the kids call soft launching, whatever happens this weekend, happens", you tranquilized him.

This had been an ongoing conversation for you for as long as you've dated. His lifestyle came with many implications, particularly not always being home and public eye. You also spent a lot of time focused on your job, building the company now associated to your name to the people in the finance business, so the latter question was the biggest one. While you were successful, it hardly impacted your life when it came to the public eye or social media. You had your accounts, sure, but they were private and they never got in the way of your job.

"I just don't want people to lash out on you", he replied, sitting next to you on the bed, his fingers tracing shapes in your hand, "I've seen how brutal they can be, I've felt how brutal they can be, and I don't want that for you. They'll gossip because that's how things work, but I don't want them breaking the respect line.", Lewis stated.

"Lew, I understand and appreciate your concern, but I'll be fine. I have you, our families, our friends, I'm going to be just fine. I don't know how they'll react, so I'll work with whatever happens", you smiled, snuggling into him as he caressed your face.

"Good morning, Y/N! How have you been? I haven't seen you in so long!", Carmen said as she hugged you once you arrived in the hospitality, Lewis kissing your cheek briefly before he headed for his meeting.

"Hello, gorgeous girl! I've been good, and you?", you greeted her with a kiss on each cheek after saying goodbye to Lewis.

"Same old, busy but managed to come and support G this weekend. You, however, seem to finally let it out", she smirked, walking with you to the coffee station and serving yourselves, sitting in the balcony as you overlooked the track.

"There's no point in keeping it a secret, I guess. We did it for a while, and this past year we both realised that we want to be able to go out and not be worried someone will see us and whatever consequences it could bring. We're adults who hope other adults will behave like such", you smiled.

"A hard thing to do sometimes, for them at least", you heard a female voice coming closer to you, "I don't believe we've met before, but Toto said you were hanging out here", the blonde woman said.

Suzie Wolff had been someone you looked up to since you were little, so this was a proper fangirl moment, "sit, sit! This is Y/N!", Carmen introduced after giving her a brief introduction.

"I keep missing you whenever you join us for the races!", she said, "the pandemic didn't help, and lately I've been so busy with the F1 Academy that I've hardly been to races myself", she reasoned, beginning the start of a conversation that was only interrupted for lunchtime.

"Press usually have a field day with powerful women related to this sport. You should be able to get away with it because you don't work for racing, but they love going on and on about how we got to where we are because of who we date", Suzie shook her head.

"Absolutely, because George is very interested in Family Offices and he got me my job", Carmen rolled her eyes, "you try and give that guy math stuff and you see how it turns out! Besides, not many people actually knew who he was, they're not very into motorsport, only a couple of them!", she teased.

"Agreed! The only way I was able to have my own company was because I name dropped Lewis, who I didn't know at the time. He doesn't know his numbers all that well. It's so easy for them to point fingers, but it's really just because they hate to see a powerful woman get the job done", you offered, seeing your partners arrive to the table along Laura.

"Social media is going crazy about you, Y/N!", Laura, one of the team's social media managers said while you had lunch, "there's people who spent the whole morning trying to find out who you were and they were faling to find your accounts. Apparently, they were looking in model agencies and such until someone pointed out you studied at the same university as them, and it's pointed them in the right direction I'd say?", she shrugged her shoulders, showing you her phone as she scrolled through media, "they're still trying to find out more, but they only have a few articles from your company and a picture of you when you graduated that is on the university's Wall of Fame!", she made you giggle, fondly looking at the wall of pictures you saw everyday on your way to lectures.

"Are you on the Wall of Fame and didn't tell us, Y/N?", Carmen exclaimed at the new information, "it's barely anything, I'm still there probably because someone forgot to remove the picture", you blushed, suddenly feeling like the table's attention was on you.

"Why would they take out the picture of the most beautiful woman with the most achievements?", Lewis charmed, holding your hand in his as he smiled.

"Are you guys ready for the race? If all goes well, we can get back to the points!", Suzie cheered as she handed you and Carmen your bottles of water.

"Lew has been beating himself up a lot lately, hopefully everything works in their favour", you held your hands together after setting the water bottle on the counter.

It was very touch and go, but the boys ended up with good results given the position they started in.

"Congrats, my love!", you said in Lewis' ear as he squeezed your torso over the barrier, delighting the sight of everyone who was watching and seeing the happy couple, "couldn't have done it without you, gorgeous girl", he yelled back, stealing a kiss before running to the mechanics.

"I'm just going to check where Suzie is and then we can go for dinner, guys", Toto stated, squeezing George's and Lewis' shoulders before checking is phone to see if his wife had seen the text he sent about said dinner.

"The F1 Academy paddock is closed, you can see it from here that nobody is there", George pointed out as his boss frowned.

"I would help you, but I have to go and look for Carmen, too", George scratched his cheek as they walked along the corridor, seeing Lewis open his driver's room door and slumping his shoulders slightly, "Y/N is not here either".

"Where have the Mercedes missus gone...?", Toto muttered.

It didn't take then long to hear the mix of your three giggles coming from the lounging area, the three of you sat in the smaller sofas around a coffee table, hot drinks in your hands as you discussed something avidly but in a relaxing way still.

"Are the three of you willing to have dinner with the three of us? We'll still let you speak between yourselves, okay? It's like we won't even be there!", Toto joked.

#lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton fanfic #lewis hamilton fluff #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic

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bagerfluff · 7 months

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Love and Limps

Harry Potter x Slytherin Male Reader

Prompt - "Why did you help me?"

Harry cursed himself as he limped towards the hospital wing. Harry had accidentally fallen during quidditch practice and now had to limp his way to the hospital wing. It hurt but Harry was able to push through it. For about half of the journey.

Now that he had been walking with his limp for ten minutes it was starting to hurt. “Bloody hell” Harry whispered as he leaned against the wall. “You okay Potter?” Harry looked up at the voice to see Y/n standing a few feet away from him.

Harry sighed as he looked away from Y/n. Y/n L/n the king of slytherin. Harry didn’t feel like getting teased, so he said he was fine and started to walk, or limp, away. But when he was a few feet away, he tripped.

Harry closed his eyes as he waited to hit the floor but he didn’t. Harry looked up to see that Y/n had caught him. “So you're fine?” Y/n asked with a small smile on his face. Harry looked back down at the floor as he blushed. Why did Y/n have to look so good?

Y/n shifted Harry so he was standing up but once Y/n realized that Harry could really stand he picked Harry up. Bridal style. Harry blushed as he wrapped his hands around Y/n’s neck. Harry tried to get down but Y/n just said “just trust me Potter”.

Harry stopped moving after that. Harry thought as Y/n carried him to the hospital wing. Why was Y/n helping him? Y/n was a Slytherin. Slytherins hate Gryffindor's. But when Harry thought about it Y/n never really did anything mean.

He mostly kept to himself. He didn’t join Umbridge. And Harry heard that he refused to torture the first years, Y/n even helped during the war. Maybe Harry was wrong about Slytherin's. The more Harry thought about it, the more he realized that only Malfoy and his goons were mean.

Every other Slytherin was fine, nice even. Harry realized that he was wrong, along with everyone else. Harry wondered how many first year Slytherin's were hated because of what people in the past did.

Harry was so caught up in these thoughts that he didn’t realize that Y/n had placed him on a bed. “Again Potter” Madam Pomfrey said before she left to get a potion for Harry’s leg. Harry expected for Y/n to leave but he stayed.

He was sitting in the chair next to Harry’s bed. “Why did you help me?” Harry asked as he looked over to Y/n. Y/n looked up from the floor and looked at Harry with a face of confusion. “Because you needed help” Y/n answered.

“But why?” Harry asked again. Y/n smirked as he got up from the chair. Y/n then leaned closer to Harry to whisper in his ear. “Because I like you Potter”. Harry blushed as Y/n leaned away from his ear and walked out of the hospital wing.

Once Madam Pomfrey came back with the potion Harry was still blushing. “Here Potter” Pomfrey said and Harry drank the potion. Harry then walked out of the hospital wing but when he got back to the dorms he realized that something was in his pocket.

Harry pulled it out and realized that it was a piece of parchment. Harry unfolded it and blushed when he read it.

Sunday, 10:30, Hogshead. See you there, Potter

Harry smiled once he realized who it was from. Harry entered the dorms with a smile. Already thinking about what he was going to wear.

#lgbtq #harry potter #harry potter x male reader #harry james potter x male reader #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fandom #harry potter x reader #male reader #male reader imagines

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krirebr · 6 months

Text

More Than This 1

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x f!reader, Steve Rogers & f!reader

Word Count: ~4.1k

Summary: Arranged marriages have always been used to solidify business deals among the ultra-wealthy. Your stepfather wants to be in business with Harlan Thrombey, so now it's your turn.

Warnings: Heavy angst, age difference, adult themes, institutional sexism, a very brief conversation about the possibility of abuse, explicit language, the slooowest burn - Warnings will be added as needed for subsequent parts. All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Masterlist

A/N: And here we go! A huge thanks to @drabblewithfrannybarnes for helping me nail down some of the worldbuilding details and @paperweight91 for reading so much of this and especially telling me how to fix the scene that refused to be fixed. You're both the best!!

Any comment, reblog, or ask to let me know what you think will be greatly appreciated. Even if it's just screeching at me. As always, thank you so much for reading! 💜

It was uncommon to be called to your stepfather’s office. The high rise on the edge of Studio City had housed the heads of his family since the silent film era, give or take a remodel and expansion or five. You’d only been here a handful of times, mostly left out of the family business. When his assistant opened the door for you, you were surprised to see a small group of people, all in expensive business attire, surrounding your stepdad, Joseph Rogers, at his desk. Even more surprising was the figure standing in the corner, staring out the window – your mother.

“Mom?” you asked, unable to hide your confusion. She just gave you a tight smile in return and turned her attention to her husband.

“Sweetheart,” he called to you. It’s what he’d called you since you’d first met him as a child and it had always felt patronizing and empty. You were well aware that you were an annoyance he’d been saddled with when he’d married your mother for her late first husband’s connections. Eighteen years later, you wished he’d drop the pretense already. “Please, have a seat,” he gestured to the leather chair in front of his large oak desk.

You sat down across from him. “What’s going on?” you asked, an uneasy feeling building in your gut.

“Congratulations are in order,” he said, smiling at you. “You’re engaged.”

Years of experience at bullshit industry and society parties had you pasting on a benign smile. This was your fourth, no fifth engagement, the first one dating all the way back to when you were 10. They’d all dissolved for one reason or another, the business arrangements at the heart of them disintegrating too. But looking around the room at all the extra people in attendance, you knew better than to dismiss this outright. You were older now. Many of your friends from school had found themselves married as part of business deals in the last few years. Love matches were uncommon in the circles you frequented. There wasn’t much patience for love when this much money was at stake. But still, just because it was expected, that didn’t make you any more ready for your turn.

“That’s wonderful,” you said, putting all your effort into keeping your tone even. “May I ask whom I’m engaged to?”

“Ransom Drysdale,” Joseph said. “He’s the grandson of Harlan Thrombey, the mystery writer. We’ve been trying to secure the movie rights to his works for years and this should finally cement it. It’s fantastic news for our family and this studio. The joining of our families should create many opportunities for all of us. Ransom is one of the most eligible bachelors in Boston. You should feel very lucky.”

Lucky was the last thing you felt right now, but you kept your face schooled as you ran through your mental Rolodex to try to figure out if you had any social connections to this man. The fact that he lived on the other side of the country made it less likely but not impossible.

“So,” he continued, sliding a stack of papers across his desk to you, “all you need to do is sign and initial the contract where it’s marked, and we can get started finalizing the details for the wedding next month.”

At that, all your poise disappeared and the smile dropped off your face. “Next month?”

Joseph nodded. “It’s important to strike while the iron is hot with deals like this. So go ahead and sign so that we can all move on to the next stage.”

Your heart thumped wildly in your chest. This was happening. This one was real. “Shouldn’t I read it first?” you asked, somewhat desperately.

He shook his head, “No need,” he said, gesturing to the man you recognized as one of the family lawyers standing beside him. “Julian has already gone through it with a fine-toothed comb. All of our interests are well represented. It’s all in legalese anyway. Impossible to understand if you aren’t a lawyer.” He chuckled and many of the people standing around the desk, staring at you, joined him.

“I just–” you stammered. You didn’t know what to do, but you knew you couldn’t pick up that pen.

Irritation bloomed on your stepfather’s face. “Lydia!” he called.

Your mother stopped staring out the window and stepped up to your chair. “Honey,” she said gently, putting her hand on your back. “This will be such a good thing. And then we can get to all the fun parts of planning the wedding!” She picked up the pen and held it out to you. You took a moment to look at her. Her features were drawn and her eyes looked exhausted. She’d looked that way as long as you could remember. It did nothing to reassure you.

You glanced at the door behind you. You knew you weren’t getting out of this room without signing the contract. You took a deep breath and took the pen from your mother. There was nothing else to do. No other choice. You quickly flipped through the papers, initialing where indicated and signing the last page. Your hand was shaking so badly you weren’t sure any of it was legible.

When you turned over the last page, Joseph clapped his hands together. “Excellent!” He took a large binder off the desk and passed it over to you. “We’ve put some information together for you on your new fiance. Ransom will be in town next week to take you to dinner so that the two of you can get to know each other. Now, I’m sure you want to go celebrate, so we won’t keep you any longer.”

At the clear dismissal, you stood up. Many people in the room offered their congratulations and you nodded to them, forcing a strained smile. Then you made your way out on shaky legs, needing to see the one person who might be able to help you process what had just happened.

You’d been six years old when you and your mother had moved into the Rogers mansion. You were terrified, already able to sense Joseph’s indifference towards you. But your comfort during that time, and all the time after, had been his son, Steve. Twelve years old, still reeling from the death of his mother and just as deeply lonely as you, he’d named himself your protector, shielding you from his father’s annoyance and your mother’s sorrow. He guarded you from monsters when you woke up in the middle of the night after a nightmare and would stare down your bullies on the playground. You were very quickly inseparable.

When you became engaged the first time when you were ten, sixteen-year-old Steve had taken you out for ice cream, telling you not to worry too much, there was so much time before anything would happen and that everything would be ok. When the arrangement had fallen apart, he’d hugged you and whispered in your ear, “See? I’m always right.”

That was the memory you couldn’t stop thinking about as you let yourself into your stepbrother’s apartment, using the key he’d given you on the day he’d moved in. He wasn’t in his front room, so you moved all the way to the back, to the spare room he used as an art studio. You lightly knocked on the doorframe as you entered, trying not to startle him. He was standing with his hands on his hips, staring at a half-finished painting, but looked over his shoulder as soon as he heard you. There was a warm smile on his face, but it dropped as soon as he took in your expression. “What happened?” he asked as you flopped down onto his couch.

“I think I might be really fucked, Steve,” you said quietly, your hands still shaking. You couldn’t get them to stop.

“What happened?” he asked again, more forcefully this time, as he dragged a chair from the corner of the room so that he could sit right across from you.

“Your dad, he–” You stopped and shook your head. Steve’s face darkened. “I’m engaged,” you said with a helpless shrug.

“Okay,” he said evenly. “That might not be the most dire thing. You’ve been engaged before. Nothing ever comes of it.”

You sighed. “They’ve set a date this time.”

“Oh,” was all he could say at first, surprise on his face. “That’s new.”

“Yeah.” you nodded. “A month from now.”

That had Steve sitting up straight. “The hell?!”

“It’s happening this time. I can feel it.”

“Hey, no,” he said, reaching out to touch your arm. “Let me try to talk some sense into him. Buy you some time. He might listen to me.”

You shook your head. “Everything’s already signed. They made me sign. I don’t think there’s any getting out of it.”

“He give you a name?”

“Ransom Drysdale.”

Before he was able to stop himself, Steve grimaced.

“Fuck,” you muttered, briefly covering your face with your hands.

“No, it’s– I’ve only met him once or twice, ok? I don’t actually know anything about him.”

“But you don’t like him.”

“He’s–” Steve paused, clearly trying to find the words that wouldn’t upset you even more, “a strong personality.” He looked at you carefully. “And he’s older than you. Older than me, even.”

“I know,” you sighed, reaching for your bag and taking out the folder. “They gave me this.”

You handed it to Steve and he paged through it. “This is intense. Do you think they gave him one about you?”

You shrugged. “Dunno. Probably. Can’t imagine it says anything interesting.”

Steve nodded, seriously. “It’s probably pretty thin. Just the story of that time you completely freaked out when you weren’t allowed to bring Mr. BunBun to school with you.”

You grabbed the pillow next to you and hurled it at him. “You’re such a dick!” you laughed. “I’m very upset!”

He batted the pillow back at you and cackled when it hit you in the chest. “He deserves to know the kind of person he’s marrying. The kind who throws a five-alarm tantrum when she’s separated from her stuffed bunny.”

“I was eight, asshole!” You laughed again but then your brain caught on something Steve had said. “Holy shit, he’s marrying me. I’m getting married. I don’t know anything about him. He could be anyone. You don’t even like him! He could hurt me and–”

“Hey, no!” Steve interrupted quickly. “I might not know much, but I know that. He won’t do that. I’m sure of it. And if he ever even tried, I’d be there so fast. They’d never find his body.”

“Will he be kind to me?” you asked quietly. He opened his mouth to say something, but you stopped him. “Be honest with me. Please.”

He sighed. “I don’t know.”

“Well,” you said, trying so hard not to cry, “I guess at least now we know exactly how your dad feels about me.”

Steve closed his eyes and quietly said your name. When he opened them, there was a resolved look on his face that was painfully familiar. His ‘I’m going to fix this’ face. He was intractable when he got like this. He set his jaw. “I’m going to talk to Dad.”

You shook your head. “Steve.” Your stepfather was just as intractable as his son. This would only result in a shouting match that wouldn’t go anywhere.

“It’s going to be alright,” he said resolutely.

All you could do was say “OK,” with a wan smile, knowing it was a lie. You lay down on the couch and curled up on your side. “Do you mind if I stay here for a bit?”

“Of course not. Lola good on her own for a while?”

You nodded. Your little dog was probably asleep in her kennel. “Yeah, for a while.”

“Do you mind if I keep working on this?” he asked, gesturing to his painting.

“I like watching you paint,” you said, trying to find comfort in the familiarity of something you’d done since you were small.

He stood up and turned back to his easel, and you did your best to focus on watching him paint and not think about how, if this went through, you’d have to move to Boston and you wouldn’t get to have this time with your brother anymore.

As expected, Steve’s talk with Joseph yielded no results when it came to your future. The only thing it seemed to have any effect on was their own relationship, Steve announcing to you that he was no longer speaking to his father the next time you saw him. You hadn’t expected anything else.

For your part, you spent the next week vacillating between going overboard preparing for your first meeting with Ransom—pouring over your folder on him, making salon appointments, shopping for a dress that would make the right impression—and pretending your problems didn’t exist. As such, the day of the dinner still snuck up on you. You were a nervous wreck.

The plan was for him to pick you up at your apartment, but an hour before he was supposed to arrive, you got a text from an unfamiliar number telling you to meet him at the restaurant instead.

So now you sat at the table, alone, in a new dress with your hair done. You’d arrived ten minutes early, and he was now 20 minutes late. You took a deep breath, staring at the empty seat across from you. He would show up. He had to.

Another ten minutes passed and, as you waived off the server for a third time, you let yourself consider what it would mean if your future husband had stood you up. You should go. It’d be pathetic to stay. And even if he did show up after you’d gone, it’d make a point. Show you had a backbone. You should definitely go.

Just as your hand began to inch toward your handbag on the table, the hostess came through, leading a tall, handsome man to your table. She stopped beside you and then ducked away. The man looked at you critically. He said your name like a question and, when you nodded, he sat down. He didn’t introduce himself, but he could only be Ransom.

He was dressed nicely in an expensive sweater and slacks, but much more casually than you were and looking around the restaurant than most of the other people there, too. And when he sat down, you could see the places in his sweater where it was threadbare or torn. You tried very hard to not take it as a sign of how he felt about this dinner, felt about you.

You cleared your throat to say something, you weren’t entirely sure what when he glanced at your glass of water. “You don’t drink?”

“No, I do,” you said, but when he smirked you realized how that sounded. “I can,” you amended, but that sounded odd too. “I mean, I don’t have anything against it. I was just waiting for you.”

He snorted. “Well, aren’t you polite?” His tone made it feel like the worst thing you could possibly be. He flagged down the server and ordered a glass of the Macallan 18, then huffed impatiently while you asked questions about their wine selection. You didn’t know how he could be half an hour late and make you feel bad for taking your time ordering.

Once you’d finally made your choice and the server left, you tried not to squirm as he gave you a once-over with his eyes. You felt disappointing without really knowing why. You tried to shrug off the feeling, but then Ransom said, “How old even are you?” with scorn in his voice.

You cleared your throat. “Twenty-four,” you tried to say with confidence.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered.

You did your best not to shrink in on yourself. Maybe he was just nervous too. It was a weird situation. But, “Didn’t they tell you about me?”

He snorted again and rolled his eyes. “Gave me a whole binder. I never opened it.”

You looked down at your empty place setting, embarrassed. You’d studied every inch of what they’d given you, hoping to show him how seriously you were taking this and he couldn’t care less. “Oh,” was all you were able to say.

He grinned a little meanly. “You got one too, didn’t you? Don’t tell me you’ve memorized facts about me that you were ready to rattle off to impress me.”

“No,” you growled out. You weren’t going to let him make you feel small just for trying to show interest in the person you were going to have to spend the rest of your life with.

He swiped one hand over his mouth and chin. “My god,” he muttered, “this whole thing is fucking ridiculous.”

The waitress came back and set down your drinks. Ransom immediately took a large gulp of his scotch. You itched to do the same, but you suddenly felt like proving a point. Even if you weren’t entirely sure what that point was.

You were ready to order, but Ransom hadn’t glanced at his menu yet. Just as you were about to ask for a few more minutes, he said, “Go ahead and bring me another one of these right away,” and gestured with his drink in dismissal. She nodded and left.

Fuck it, you let yourself take a large drink of your wine. “Do you know what you’re going to have?” you asked, nodding to his menu.

He shook his head. “I have dinner plans after this.”

Heat shot through your whole body. “I thought these were the dinner plans.”

He rolled his eyes again. “Getting a head start on the nagging?” he asked, dryly. “Wow, it’s like we’re already married.”

You opened your mouth to do something, you weren’t sure what. Everything in your mind had gone white. But once again, Ransom beat you to it. “Alright, let’s get this done. You’re moving into my house. Fine. But I already have everything we need, so I expect you to pack light. I don’t need your shit cluttering up everything.”

You didn’t know what to say to that. You didn’t know how to have a conversation with him. Someone who left no room for you and seemed not to care at all about anything you had to say. And then there was the voice in your head that kept shouting about how incredibly important this dinner was to the rest of your life. And now it wasn’t even dinner. So when you opened your mouth to speak, what came out was, “I have a dog.”

He stared at you for a moment, seemingly surprised that you’d spoken at all. “What? No. Absolutely not. You’ll have to get rid of it. I hate dogs.”

You didn’t even bother to try to think through the static in your head. “She’s coming with me. I don’t care what else happens, I’m fucking bringing my dog.”

Ransom just narrowed his eyes and stared at you for a moment, then, “Fine. Just keep it away from me. And if it destroys my house, you’re getting rid of it. I’m serious.”

“She won’t,” you said, as sure of that as anything. “She’s a good girl.”

“Whatever,” he said, as the server returned with his second drink. He slid his empty glass to the end of the table, then said, “The bill,” without looking at her. As she took his empty away, he continued to you, “I don’t know why you want to deal with a dog and a baby, but…” he shrugged.

You just blinked at him, trying to catch up with the massive leap he’d just taken. “Baby? What? Who said anything about a baby?”

He laughed, loudly. “Oh my god, they didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?” you asked, harshly, panic starting to build up in your chest.

“Of course, they fucking left that to me. There’s a clause in the contract,” he said, “requiring you to get pregnant with my child within the first year.”

You stared over his shoulder, you couldn't look him in the eye, horrified and speechless. You couldn’t breathe. How were you supposed to breathe?

“You seriously didn’t read your own marriage contract?” The judgment in his tone had you shrinking in on yourself. You couldn’t help it.

“They didn’t give me any time,” you said, quietly. “They just made me sign it.”

“And you always do what you’re told, don’t you? Yeah, you look like a good girl.” He said it the same way he’d called you polite when he’d first sat down with you. Like it made you weak. Stupid. You’d never thought so before, but now you wondered if he was right.

“Fuck,” you whispered.

He chuckled humorlessly. “We agree on that,” he said. “This whole thing is fucked.”

At some point, without your notice, the server had returned with Ransom’s card and the receipt. He signed it quickly, then stood up. “Listen, now, at least, we can go back to our parents, tell them we met, chatted, got to know each other. Everything is hunky dory. And then do whatever we want for the next three weeks. Right now, I’m going to try to salvage my night. You go do,” he gestured vaguely at you, “whatever you need to do. I’ll see you at the wedding.”

And then he was gone and you were alone.

You sat in the back seat of the car on the way back to your apartment, running over every moment of your evening. You kept thinking about the way he’d looked at you, talked to you. A baby. You were supposed to have a baby with him. A child that you’d have to raise. By yourself, judging by how invested in all this he seemed to be. Forty, fifty years of him looking at you like that, talking to you like that. And a baby. You leaned forward and asked the driver to take you to your parents’ house instead.

Once you arrived, you said you needed to speak to your stepfather urgently and were shown to his study. You stood in the middle of the room, too anxious to sit down, and waited. Everyone was making you wait tonight.

Several minutes later, Joseph finally came in. “We weren’t expecting you tonight,” he said. “How did it go?”

You ignored his question, which you guessed was an answer in itself. “Please don’t make me do this,” you pleaded.

“Sweetheart,” he sighed, disappointed, and moved over to his bar, pouring himself two fingers of decanted whiskey. “I’m sure it wasn’t that bad.”

“It was. It was awful. He’s– I can’t do this. Please, please don’t make me.” Your voice broke, but you couldn’t be embarrassed about it, not when you were staring down an entire lifetime with him.

“Everyone gets nervous before their wedding. You’ll be fine. This is important. To all of us.”

“It’s not nerves!” You were close to shouting, suddenly. “You weren’t there. You don’t know. There have to be other families we need things from. It doesn’t have to be this family, does it? It doesn’t have to be right now. Please, please, anything else. I’m begging you, don’t make me marry him, have a child with him.”

He chuckled lightly. “Oh, that’s what this is about. It won’t feel as scary once the baby is here. You’ll make an excellent mother.”

You just stared at him, agape. He wasn’t listening to anything you had to say. “How could you not tell me that was part of the contract? I deserved to know. I wouldn’t have signed!”

His face hardened at that. “You were naive to not expect it. Of course, children are part of this. I admit that the timing is a little fast, but Harlan insisted.”

“Joseph, please listen to me. I can’t. I can’t. Please. If you care about me at all, you won’t make me do this.”

“You’re being ridiculous. It’s done. Everything’s signed. You signed. Now,” he said and took a drink, “it’s getting late. It’s high time you went home. Hopefully, you’ll be able to calm yourself down there.” And then he left the room, ignoring you as your whole world fell apart.

As you left, you passed your mother in the hall. Neither of you said anything.

When you got home, Steve was waiting for you, having already let himself in, holding Lola in one arm. “How did it go?” he asked seriously. You shook your head and finally let the tears fall. He pulled you into his arms, smushing you against your dog, and gently guided you into your home.

Part Two

Tag list is open

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#ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x female reader #ransom drysdale #chris evans fanfiction #fanfic #steve rogers #knives out #captain america #reader insert #arranged marriage au #kris wrote something #more than this #ce characters

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mncxbe · 6 months

Text

You look... familiar

𝑫𝒂𝒛𝒂𝒊, 𝑭𝒖𝒌𝒖𝒛𝒂𝒘𝒂, 𝑹𝒂𝒏𝒑𝒐 𝒙 𝒇𝒆𝒎!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

~ In which you're Oda's little sister and join the Ada~ consider this an Oda appreciation post

°☆○

𝑫𝒂𝒛𝒂𝒊

he'd be so surprised and conflicted; he had no idea that one of the closest friends he's ever had had a little sister

you don't even have to introduce yourself for him to know who you are. the auburn hair, deep brown eyes with that distant look, the curve of your nose and brows were unmistakably his

he pretends to be unbothered by your presence but deep down he's torn to pieces. why didn't Oda tell him about you? Where have you been all this time? How comes you joined the ADA? Did you know who he was?

his thoughts are plagued by unanswered questions but as soon as you walk up to him and extend a hand for him to shake his mind goes blank

he shakes your hand, searching for any sign of recognition in your eyes and sighs in relief when he doesn't find it

he can play the role of your funny, goofy colleague without a worry. you don't know about the past

that night he barely sleeps, he's lost in deep thought; but he promises himself that he would protect you no matter what. he owes that to Oda, to himself and in a way to you

over the next few months he tries not to get too close to you; the sight of you alone is enough to resurface some memories he'd rather keep hidded, but he does his best to be friendly and keep you safe

I don't think he'd ever open up to you about him knowing Oda and if you ever bring up the subject he'd simply brush it off

𝑭𝒖𝒌𝒖𝒛𝒂𝒘𝒂

at first he doesn't know who you are but he vaguely recognises your family name

he wasn't close to Oda so your presence doesn't affect him too much, but he does find the coincidence quite uncanny. out of all the people who could've joined the Ada it had to be the sister of the boy he saved all those years ago

Fukuzawa doesn't treat you any differently; after all, you're just another employee, but once he notices the strange way Dazai acts around you he can't help but wonder if there's more to you that he doesn't know about

probably runs a background check or something and ends up finding out the whole story so now he has to live with it (+1 trooma)

𝑹𝒂𝒏𝒑𝒐

much like Dazai he feels nostalgic when he sees you

you resemble Oda so much it hurts, but he doesn't let it show

overall, Ranpo does his best to help you get used to your new job, takes you with him on different cases and even shares his sweets with you

he doesn't ask much about your past since he knows it's a sensitive topic for you but if the subject of Oda is ever brought up he's gonna tell you he knew him for a while and that he was a wonderful person

Ranpo would get many of those deja vu moments when you wear clothes that belonged to your brother or use the phrases he did; in a way he likes it. it feels like part of Oda is still with him

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd x reader #bsd headcanons #ranpo x reader #fukuzawa x reader #dazai x reader #dazai bsd #bsd fukuzawa #bsd odasaku

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biblio-smia · 7 months

Note

Hear me out…

Clapton Davis with a popular!s/o

i'm hearing you out and i'm seated while doing so.

part two | part three

there is, without a doubt, a social pyramid at grizzly lake.

it's not extreme in the sense that people in different social circles don't interact at all (they do), but you won't find someone like ione foster having lunch with riley jones (although they used to be best friends...).

most students will have a group of friends they've had for years, unwilling to give up the integrity of that group for anyone reason - shutting anyone else out. you can talk to someone outside of your group, but know your place - you're not getting invited to that party on saturday.

as for you? you float somewhere near the top, not quite sure how it happened. you had so many friends you were constantly walking around in a pack of people - people just liked you, gravitating towards you and finding their eyes linger as you walked down the hall.

at grizzly lake, you were untouchable.

it didn't surprise clapton davis to see you in physics on the first day of the school year (he'd had a few classes with you throughout high school). but it did surprise him when your new teacher for the year, mr. kendall, sits you down at a lab table in the back of the room, away from all your friends. you give them a sad smile but take your seat, setting your things down and propping your head up on your hand.

you barely react when mr. kendall points his pencil to the space right next to yours and calls out, "clapton davis."

maybe it's because you know the entire room is watching you that you keep staring straight ahead, looking rather bored, expression unwavering as clapton slides into the chair next to yours.

he does look at you, eyebrows raised and lips upturned in a small smile, but clapton doesn't say anything. he slouches in his seat and eventually joins you in looking straight ahead at the board, wondering if you'd respond or ignore him if he tried to talk to you.

it's not like clapton hasn't thought about it before - he's considering finally working up the courage to go up and start a genuine conversation (or at least ask you for your number or something) at least once a week for the past year (though you've been on his radar for much longer). since freshman year, clapton has made exactly two comments that were directed to you, seven jokes while in your vicinity (four of which you laughed at), and probably over a hundred remarks in classes you shared (which still counted!).

sander thought the tally was against him. sander was also beginning to think clapton was seriously going to try and talk to you. no matter how much sander warned him, clapton insisted you were nicer to outsiders than they perceived.

now was clapton's chance to prove himself right - except the bell has rung and you're slinging your bag over your shoulder, picking up your notebook and meeting up with your friends. clapton can hear your laughter as you exit the classroom, eyes falling to the space you'd just occupied and realizing you'd left your pen.

there really isn't anything special about it (other than that it'd been in your hand), but clapton picks it up anyway, staring at the most common type of pen in the country for a few moments before finally, carefully, placing it in the front zipper of his backpack.

clapton was sure the absence of that pen made absolutely no difference to you; there were probably five pens exactly like that one in your pencil pouch. and yet, clapton made a little bit of a show of returning your pen the very next day. after all, it was the thought that counted, right?

"hey," clapton begins as soon as mr. kendall takes a tired seat at his desk, letting the class attend to each other. he's digging in his backpack and you're looking at him with a confused tilt of your head. clapton comes back with a grin and a pen in his hand. "you forgot this after class yesterday."

"huh?" your lips part and your eyes blink once, twice, three times before you finally realize what clapton is saying. "oh!" you say finally, still not quite recalling ever abandoning a pen. "thanks," you say sincerely, taking the pen from clapton and using it to write your name at the top of the worksheet that had been handed out. at least you won't have to dig another pen out now.

"sure," clapton says easily, though your focus is now on the equations in front of you rather than the boy next to you.

and for the first time in history, clapton is suddenly compelled to do his work. his eyes glance between you and the way your eyebrows furrow in confusion, your paper, and the textbook the two of you have to share. he flips through, eyes falling on an equation that looks pretty similar to #2. he punches a few numbers into his calculator confidently, sliding it over to you. your focus on your paper breaks, eyebrows slightly raised in confusion again (it's a cute look on you). you look at the calculator to clapton, who has one of his famously lazy smiles on, and back to the calculator. your face relaxes into a small smile.

"thanks," you say softly, ready to write down the answer clapton has presented you before you realize it's clapton davis.

"wait," you shake your head, laughing lightly. "there's no way that's right."

"what?" clapton scoffs lightly, arms on the table and sliding towards you to take a good look at his calculation. "that's totally right."

"clapton, you shouldn't even be getting a decimal," you laugh a little harder now, taking the calculator - his calculator - and clearing his answer. you stare at your paper for a few seconds, biting your lip lightly as clapton simply watches, completely focused on the way your bottom lip springs out from the hold of your teeth. he barely realizes you're stuck until his curious eyes wander down to your fingers and see them hovering over the small buttons of his calculator.

"plus 27," clapton offers, reaching over to hit the respective buttons, fingers lightly grazing yours for just a moment. completely bullshitting.

"how'd you get that?" you ask curiously and too sincerely, forgetting who it was you were talking to. but then clapton grins and shrugs and you roll your eyes, hitting that clear button again - but there's a smile on your face.

"are you trying to sabotage me, clapton?" and clapton remembers exactly how you had completely captivated him earlier - of course you knew his name, but he'd never heard you say it before today.

he wanted to hear it more.

clapton shrugs, leaning back in his seat. "retaking physics wouldn't be so bad if you were my partner again." smooth.

"okay, the school year barely started," you laugh. god, why can't you stop smiling?

clapton leans forward again, crossing his arms on the table and setting his head down on top of them. he doesn't move as you reach into his space to flip the page of the textbook, your arm right up against his, but you don't move either. your arm stays there as you read and try to comprehend whatever it is you're supposed to be learning. clapton doesn't even try to pretend to read, his eyebrows raising as he looks up at you.

you feel warm under clapton's constant gaze, suddenly, weirdly self-conscious. your face is warm and you try, uselessly, to use that pen to direct clapton's attention back to the problem at hand.

"clapton."

"hmm?" clapton hums as you look over, not bothering to look away. he smiles instead at how flustered you seem to be when you avert your eyes (as if you'd been the one who'd been caught staring).

"we have to finish this." you're glancing at the clock. there's a little bit of class left, but everyone else is much further along.

clapton tries not to falter when you say we, picking up his pencil and nodding in agreement. he feels your eyes on him as he scribbles out different numbers in each blank space all the way to #10.

"done," clapton smiles, completely satisfied. he slides on his oversized sunglasses, fingers swiping through the music library on his ipod. he's close enough for you to look over curiously, unable to hold in a laugh as you get a peek of clapton's music choice.

"sting?" you're leaning in closer now, the soft scent of your shampoo reaching clapton's nose.

"uh, yeah. they're like the bruno mars of 1992!"

you laugh again, shaking your head.

"what?" clapton scoffs lightly, smile on his face.

"nothing! nothing, that's just... not the type of music i thought you'd listen to."

clapton chuckles, eyebrows raised, body and attention turned completely towards you. he's holding out one of his wired earbuds for you and you decide that physics worksheet can wait.

it takes a lot of explaining afterwards to try and assure your friends that clapton davis walking you to class (and, in turn, being late to his own), earbuds dangling from both your ears while clapton excitedly explained the cultural significance of sting's fields of gold, did not mean anything. they don't believe you, teasing smiles and curious glances making that obvious.

though, you're not sure you believe yourself, either.

hello i got carried away <;3

please let me know if you'd like me to write more clapton x popular s/o + any specific scenarios!! i love love love pathetic loser men <;3

requests are open! | masterlist

#clapton davis #clapton davis x reader #clapton davis x you #clapton davis fluff #josh hutcherson x reader #josh hutcherson #detention 2011 #v + clapton #v writes

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alrtyhoney · 11 months

Text

VAMPIRE!

(You can't love anyone 'cause that would mean you had a heart.)

The rundown: Miguel had an image to uphold and you are in the way of him keeping up appearances.

Content: Miguel x !Reader / Angst! (wc: 2011)

Miguel had an image to uphold. He is of many things; stoic, cold-blooded, mean– some of the words you’d hear from whispers and passing spider-men. Of course he knew that, knew everything that came from everyone’s mouth. The walls talked, and by walls, it was mostly from those people that tolerated him.

“You know people would talk more nicely about you if you weren’t so..” Peter B. trailed off, trying to find a description that didn’t seem offending. Not that it ever bothered Miguel, but he wasn’t in the mood to be sent out early back to his universe.

“Stoic? Restrained?” He listed a reply, uninterested.

“Closed off.”

He wasn’t exactly expecting that. It wasn’t like the people knew him well enough to see who he was way past his shell of a tough man. He wasn’t closed off– He wasn’t heartless enough to not let people in and by people, you. Only you.

It was only you that saw through him; the only one who tried to put the bricks of the wall he had built down one by one. You were gentle– genuine. Every word that he wasn’t. You made his brain short circuit, his spine rigid, and palms sweat.

The problem was, while Miguel was all those mean words, he was also dense; unknowing, stupid, insensitive. He didn’t know how to love.

You were patient. It was satisfaction enough that Miguel had given you attention before; like you existed and wasn’t like any of the million other spider-men. You knew you weren’t imagining it when he had softened around you.

Days passed and melted into months– months into years and years into moments he couldn’t take for granted. Just how could he push you aside when you have been nothing but perfect to him? Before you knew it, he had asked you to be his and when he did, you saw nothing of what they called Miguel.

It was surprising– Miguel wasn’t as overbearing with someone. And while everyone was delighted that someone had made him less hostile, a few comments had made his stomach churn in shame. (Who knew a woman was all he needed to release tension– jeez! / I wonder how y/n could put up with someone so nonchalant. Poor her.) They probably didn’t mean harm, but it made Miguel undeniably embarrassed.

And before he knew it, he was pushing you away– slowly.

(“What ya working on, boss?” You had plopped on one of the tables from his office, legs swinging as you watched him from his platform.

“Work. Something you should be doing too.” Miguel had answered, still focused on the plenty holograms but lowering the platform nonetheless. Something you’ve learned about him was he’d never be direct– everything he’d imply was for you to figure out. It wasn’t like you didn’t expect him to be an easy man, but it was still a privilege to know the little things about him.

You jumped off from where you were sitting to join him, reading the reports from the desks that surrounded him, while stealing glances to what he worked on. It took every strength for Miguel to not soften his shoulders– jaw tightening so the smile that was threatening to seep through wouldn’t show. God, he yearned to touch you; to have you near him all the time.

Something about you made him feel normal– just him.

“Date night?” His body jolted slightly when you whispered, your warm breath fanning over his ears as you lovingly nuzzled your head against the crook of his neck. You had risen onto the tips of your toes, chest pressed against his as you waited for his response.

He chuckles, the sound deep and resonating in your chest as you draw close to him. Unable to restrict himself anymore, he turns to you. He puts his weight against the machine behind him, positioning you between his legs. His crinkled eyes and warm smile make your heart swell, and for a moment it's just the two of you: no worries or troubles. No image to uphold.

"How could I possibly turn you down, amor?" he murmurs affectionately, planting a soft kiss on your forehead. He revels in the giggle you let out and it makes him shiver with so much love.

“Oh, I don’t know,” You trailed off jokingly, drawing circles on his chest. “You seem busy.”

“Never too busy for you, you know that right?” You hummed softly in reply, leaning your body against his and letting him play with the strands of your hair.

Suddenly, Jess came into view, her gaze focused intently on the papers in her hands. It wasn't until she had realized that someone was in the room with her. "Miguel– oh, y/n, what are you doing here?" she asked in surprise.

Miguel quickly rises to his feet, coughing and shifting nervously. He turns to face away from you, “Leaving. She was just about to leave.” Miguel blurts out, tone dismissive.

You feel the heat of embarrassment and confusion spread quickly through your veins as you stand there, your heart aching. You had stared for a second or so before he finally looked back at you. “Leave. Now.”

Your eyes widened and that was the cue you needed to go. “Right– right! Was just about to leave.” You quickly scurry to leave, murmuring a soft ‘I’ll see you later.’)

You were respective of Miguel; knew of what troubled him. After that occurrence, he had pampered you– apologized a million times in between opening up. I didn’t mean it, love. He said, she caught me off guard.

You were still patient. You understood that it was never his intention to hurt you, but your mind was blaring alerts in bright red. Do you perhaps embarrass him? This wasn’t the only time it had happened– wasn’t the only time he had left you in a clueless state.

(“So, you and y/n.” Hobie had begun, tinkering with his machines and carefully extracting different parts from them.

Miguel was aware that the seemingly casual conversation was only a ruse to distract him while he continued to steal from his devices, but he indulged nonetheless. Reprimanding him wouldn’t help anyway. “What about her?” Unbeknownst to him, you were in the same place. You couldn't help but feel your eyebrows rise up to the sound of your name.

“I don’t know, you tell me, you dense bloke.” Hobie let out a huff, then plopped himself down in an office chair and began to spin it around in circles. He knew about it anyway. You would tell him about Miguel and your relationship, told him what made your heart race and what troubled you greatly.

Hobie wanted to hear it from Miguel– wanted to confirm your uncertainty.

Miguel hesitates as he ponders, eyebrows knitted together. He clicks his tongue in frustration before finally giving an answer “An associate? Coworker? I don’t know what you want from me.”

You felt a sudden weight crash down upon you— your mouth became parched and your chest seemed to constrict. It was like something was pressing hard against you, making it difficult to breathe. An unwelcome realization dawned on you as you pieced it all together.

“Ouch. You hear that, y/n? If I was you, I would’ve dumped this oaf.” But you had been gone before Miguel even got the chance to set his eyes on you and he knew he had messed up again.)

“I’m not closed off.” Miguel had muttered under his breath– a bit too defensive to his liking as he clicked away on his keyboard aggressively. Peter didn’t miss the shift on his behavior and he decided to push further.

What was with everyone and questioning about his personal life?

“You know what I mean– Jess, help me out here.”

“What he means is, it wouldn’t hurt to be less uptight.” Jessica said, “I mean, look at you and y/n. It’s not so hard to be friendly.”

Peter's eyes widened in surprise and disbelief, his furrowed eyebrows clearly expressing his disagreement. “Friendly? Look me dead in the eyes and tell me the heart eyes he’s shooting y/n is friendly.” He butted in with Mayday babbling in the carrier strapped to his chest like she was on the same page as his father.

Jess rolls her eyes, “I just don’t think Miguel’s the type to be all lovey-dovey.” She replies, both hands lifting in a gesture of surrender. “Besides, y/n is waaay out of his league.” She can already imagine it - Miguel trying his best to sweep y/n off her feet with corny pickup lines or gestures that didn’t seem like him.

They didn’t know about them; no one did. It wasn’t like they made their relationship public.

Blood rushed to his ears as they continued to banter about him, frustration brimming to the point of overflow. They continued to talk about him like he wasn’t there in front of him– like what he felt didn’t matter. He finally turns to them, expression clearly unamused.

And unbeknownst to him, you were just around the corner. You marched towards his office, chest puffed and heart pounding as you advanced. Your mind was made up, finally giving in to the voices waving red flags. It wasn’t fair– wasn’t just that you had given your heart for him to throw around. However, his voice stopped you from making your appearance known; it was firm– angry.

“The fate of the multiverse depends on me,” He started off and it takes all the strength in Peter to not roll his eyes, “I do not have time to be in a relationship– let alone be with someone as soft-hearted as y/n.”

It was like a strike to the gut and you only want the ground to swallow you whole now. Your legs threatened to buckle, begging you to leave but you couldn’t. It was wrong of you to eavesdrop, but you couldn’t help it; His words were answering every question you had in mind in the worst way possible, breaking you apart and squashing every butterfly that fluttered inside your stomach.

“Just what do you mean about that?” Peter comes to your defense, shoulders stiffened.

“I do not need someone weighing me down.”

Peter was having none of it— absolutely did not believe every word that fell from his lips. He knew it was love; the lingering stares, the small touches. He wasn’t a fool to ignore the signs, Miguel just needed a push. “But you tolerate her more than the others! You like being around her!”

“Peter, just leave it.” Jess attempts to calm the escalating tension, but her words seem to fall on deaf ears as Miguel speaks again.

“Isn’t it our job to endure? What’s another headache to tolerate?” He said before finally looking away, ready to walk out. “Now stop asking because I have enough of having her around. Don’t make me talk about her too.”

What he didn't expect was that you were already standing in his path, cheeks wet with tears and lips pressed together in a deep frown. His heart sank as he took your presence in, letting it seep like a rain of needles. The realization had hit him like a bag of bricks. You had heard their conversation– heard every single thing he said.

You quickly wiped away your tears, focusing on anything but the face of the one who caused them. You couldn’t bear to look into his eyes, not when he had you clutching your chest as you listened. It threatened to leap out, pounding against your ribs. “Yeah Peter, I think he said enough.”

“Amor,” He had whispered, walking towards you only for you to step backward in return.

You had left the scene and the shame that swallowed him was nothing compared to the embarrassment he swore was unbearable. Miguel is of many things; stoic, cold-blooded, mean. And they were right– all of it.

#alrighty honey ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚#across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara atsv #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #miguel o'hara angst #atsv angst #across the spider verse angst

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deebris · 2 months

Text

Seems like destiny

Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!Reader

Synopsis: After spending years in the bone marrow donation system, encouraged by the army, Simon was finally notified that they had found a match. He just didn't expect to find out that he would be donating it to his own son, who he had with his teenage love and never knew.

Warnings: Family problems, panic attacks, teenage pregnancy, swearing, mention of diseases such as leukemia, murder, archaic ideas, anguish.

Word count: 3.5 k

Any questions or errors, please let me know.

Simon always remembers how the army encouraged soldiers to be blood donors. There was a great concern within about it, as it was one of the ways the government found to help hospitals and people who depend on transfusions to survive.

Then campaigns for bone marrow donation began, but it was so rare to find someone compatible that after 6 years on the waiting list, Simon thought he would never find someone who would need him. But that changed two months ago when he received a call from the institute informing him that he should go there immediately.

He underwent more medical exams than he had ever done, and although he was a tough guy, he couldn't deny the pain he felt in the weeks following the procedure. Among so many people dying in beds waiting to find a donor, someone could finally heal because of him. It made Simon feel good about himself, as good as he hadn't felt in a long time. That had been one of the reasons why he joined the army: to help people.

Now he could only hope that whoever he donated to would improve. He found himself during the day thinking about it, wondering if in a few years it would affect him as much as it does now. It's not very fresh in his memory, but Simon is able to superficially remember the day he registered on the bone marrow donor list. He had been in the army for a short time, still a soldier, and "Ghost" didn't even exist yet.

He thought this would be put aside. He didn't understand if he would need to donate more often, not really knowing the process deeply. That's why when he received another call from the same institute, he thought there had been some mistake, or that they would need more, but the reason for the contact surprised him.

The recipient's caregiver wanted to meet him and was willing to break the standard anonymity by revealing their identity. Accepting the offer would mean that he would also need to disclose his personal information, which is why he hesitated so much. But as he constantly replayed the woman's words in his head, he grew restless.

"The caregiver wants to meet you," that's what she said. Could the recipient be a child? Or perhaps an elderly person? Or maybe someone who was already so ill that they could barely decide for themselves. He shouldn't have any information about this person, even something as empty as what that lady had let slip.

"You should accept. Everyone would like to have the opportunity to personally thank the person who saved their life," were the words of his Captain, John "Price." And it had been the push that Simon needed to agree to the idea.

Now, standing in front of the hospital room door, Ghost debated with himself whether he should open it. Just a few meters away was the little boy who had been haunting his mind for the past few days. And how did he know it was a boy? He had been directed to the children's oncology ward when he arrived at the reception minutes ago, as soon as he was cleared by the unit director, who already knew about the situation and the breach of anonymity.

Furthermore, the clipboard with the patient's information on the door also made it clear that it was a boy. The name "Lucas" was printed on the paper, accompanied by a surname that was familiar to him. There weren't many people in the UK with that name, which caught his attention.

All that separated him from the family was that door, dividing the cold hospital corridor from the room he could only hope would be less disheartening and empty. He didn't know if he would find a smile on the other side, or if he would be met with the sad gaze of the child's mother.

This woman had contacted him through a letter. On that day, he hadn't yet notified the institute that he was willing to speak with her, so the letter came anonymously since nothing had been filed. He read what she had to say, revealing some things, such as the fact that she was a single mother and was extremely grateful to God for sending him to save her son. Some paragraphs were difficult to read, where she recounted how she had lost hope before.

The little comfort he found in that text was when she talked about the boy. In those passages, her handwriting was less shaky, and he was sure she was happier when she wrote those parts of the letter. He knew that this had been her attempt to persuade him to come meet her, but without her knowing, he had already decided. Simon kept the piece of paper with him and reread it in his spare moments.

That stirred his emotions. He thought he had managed to harden his heart after everything he had been through, but he was wrong. Deep down in his soul, he was more emotional than he let on to others. He hoped that "Soap" would never find out, or he would be eternally tormented.

"Damn," he muttered softly, snapping back to reality. Simon began to bitterly regret agreeing to this. He should have declined and moved on. He could leave, but he was already here, so he mustered up the courage to knock on the wood.

He considered himself presentable in the civilian clothes he wore, accustomed to the heavy military equipment he carried all day at the base, and also missing the mask covering his face. Simon adjusted the collar of his dress shirt, as a way to occupy his sweaty hands, more nervous about the approaching footsteps he heard than his appearance.

Before the door opened, he had already told himself he would remain silent and wait for the boy's mother to start the conversation. If she asked who he was, he would state his name and explain why was there. But as the woman inside was revealed to him, he fell silent not because he had decided to, but because he was speechless. Suddenly, those seconds he spent admiring the child's surname on the door seemed like a scene from a comedy movie to him. How ironic it is considering he was just thinking about you moments ago and, like magic, you appeared?

It seemed like you took a few extra seconds to recognize him, and he doesn't judge you for that. Although you have changed and are now an adult woman, with a more mature face and body, he had changed much more since he was a teenager. Back when you two were in school, he was shorter and thinner, and he didn't have any of the scars on his face.

But it wasn't just that which changed in him. You stared in complete shock at how different the demeanor of the guy you were in love with was. He was more serious, more intimidating, very different from his brother, Thomas, whom you had seen years ago, just a few days before he was brutally murdered along with his wife and child.

Your legs went weak, and your eyes burned with tears threatening to overflow. You wanted so desperately to say something, but nothing could come out of your mouth. Was this real, after all? You withdrew your hand from the doorknob, not realizing you had been gripping it tightly until now, and sat in the nearest chair to avoid collapsing to the ground.

Your blood pressure had surely dropped, as you were sweating cold and seeing black spots. What were the chances, after so many years and after everything you had been through, of finally finding him just when you weren't even trying anymore?

Your memories since you found out you were pregnant began to flood back. You vividly remember your father's reaction when he found out you were having a baby; what he said when found out that the neighbor's son, Simon, was the father of the child; how you struggled to escape him after he took you away to another state, to cover up the shame of having a "prostitute" as a daughter.

You never managed to tell Simon, and when you returned to that town, the town where you two met, he was no longer there. You didn't have a penny in your pocket and only survived that week because of Tommy's help. He gave you a bed to sleep in, food, and clothes, both for you and his nephew. You remembered the perplexed expression he had when analyzed Lucas's appearance, it was impossible to deny that he was a Riley.

It was because of him that you found out Simon was in the army and that he hadn't come home in months.

You never managed to thank him properly. Just two days after showing up there, Tommy handed you half of the money he had in a bank deposit. He told you that a good part of that money belonged to Simon, and therefore, it belonged to your son too. You rented a hotel room so as not to continue bothering his wife, especially since she now had to cook and clean for five people.

You left for the hotel with the promise to reward him someday and continued making visits while anxiously tried to contact his brother on his phone, but Simon never answered. You didn't have a cell phone and couldn't spend the money Tommy gave you so lightly, deciding to prioritize your son's needs.

Several voicemails were recorded, but there was never a response. You felt angry at Simon. You screamed into your pillow, frustrated for not being answered and repeating to yourself how stupid he was. But the possibility that maybe he was dead haunted you. Tommy had told you how complex his work in the army was, that it was more dangerous than usual.

You always feared what you would find when you saw him again. He could have a wife, a beautiful house, and everything you ever wanted to have with him one day but couldn't. He could have children, children who had the opportunity to grow up with him, unlike Lucas. And then when you found out that no, none of that had happened, a kind of happiness flooded your chest, even though nothing in the world guaranteed that he would want anything with you again. The last time you had anything, you two were barely adults, until one day you left without saying anything. You thought he hated you.

That lasted until one time, when you went to Tommy's house, there was nothing there but blood. You still remember how scared you were when you found the broken door and called the police, who surrounded the scene of the violent crime that had just happened. You waited so long, but so long for Simon to show up. What kind of person doesn't attend their own brother's funeral? That's when you decided to forget him and threw away the phone number you had written down.

Some more time later, when Lucas had just turned 7 years old, your life was turning upside down again. It all started with symptoms of a common virus. He had fevers, weakness, and got tired very easily. Then he started losing weight and getting pale. Many pediatricians said it could be anemia or hepatitis, but more symptoms kept emerging. Joint pains came, as did swellings, and after a year of medical investigation, the diagnosis came: leukemia.

You entered a state of denial. Was there something wrong with his diet? Or his lifestyle? It could be genetic, but there were no cases of cancer in your family. Maybe the Rileys had some?

Since that day, your life has never been the same. With each passing month, your son only got worse. You would give all your savings, live on the streets, or even rob a bank if it meant seeing your baby well again. Fortunately, the government offered treatment for free, but some medicines needed to be acquired more urgently than the hospital could provide, and medicines for such treatment were not cheap at all.

The only thing that could cure your boy was the marrow from a compatible donor. You prayed so much that you could save him, but when the tests were done, it was impossible. If no one in the family could donate, it was almost a death sentence. Your last hope was your father. You hoped to never have to see him again, let alone tell him where you had run away to, but now you were no longer the same foolish young girl who depended on his money.

Despite everything, you knew he loved his grandson, and a single phone call was enough to make him come running. In recent years, he had been worried about the two of you, not knowing where you had gone. He never had the courage to admit he was wrong, and apologizing was never his strong point, but he regrets every day what he did. That day he didn't know how to react. He wanted to kill Simon, the brat who got his only daughter pregnant, just as he was afraid you would become a joke in neighborhood for having such a young son. He only managed to think about leaving to avoid a disaster, never asking what you wanted or how you felt.

For the first time, when he saw you so tired and alone, he held his tongue to not say anything that could ruin everything. Instead, he hugged you tightly, and you were so craving someone's company that you curled up in his arms just like when you were a little girl. He was a grumpy and archaic man, someone who made many mistakes, who still makes them, but he still has humanity within him.

Unfortunately, he was not a match either.

You stopped daydreaming, and you didn't realize how bad you were until you saw an adult Simon crouched in front of you, shouting in the hallway for a doctor, but you tried to silence him by grabbing the nails on his rolled-up shirt sleeve, catching his attention. The last thing you want is for the doctors responsible for your son's health to be alarmed, thinking he's worsened. These professionals worked as hard for him as you did. Simon seemed to understand and went to close the door to prevent curious eyes from appearing.

Simon looked at you with sadness, and it crushed your heart. He was afraid you wouldn't be able to breathe properly again; he knew you were desperately begging for air, but couldn't draw it in. He hesitated to touch you, but gave in to the desire and placed both hands on your cheeks. He was incredulous. It was really you, the girl he loved most in his entire life, more than he thought he was capable of loving another woman. Simon had imagined so many times meeting you again, and he had so many doubts.

"Calm down," he repeated in a whisper, locking his eyes onto yours. He knew panic attacks; he had experienced them himself several times. "I know. I know, dear. It's a lot to process."

"You…" your voice tried to come out amidst desperate breaths, while also trying to swallow the lump in your throat. Your hands grabbed both of his wrists, and your thumb smoothed over the skin, feeling his heartbeat. "It's you who…?"

"Yes. Yes, it's me, the donor," he quickly confirmed, even before you could finish the question. "Don't speak. Breathe."

You were managing to calm down and think more rationally. Understanding hit you like a bucket of cold water, and your embrace made the big burly man he had become freeze. The feeling was so strange. Of course, among so many people, the only one who could save your little son would be his own father. The person with whom he shared half of his genes.

"He's yours, Si," your voice sounded like a spell in his ear, the old nickname sending shivers down his spine. Your tone was so gentle that he barely understood the meaning of the phrase. But soon he felt his lips quivering, recounting the events of the past few months and how unbelievable this would sound if he told this story to someone. "I swear he's yours," you repeated as if that made it easier to assimilate.

The content of that letter invaded his mind again and again. He felt horrible.

Simon pulled you closer to him, your bodies almost merging. You were still beautiful, even in your disheveled state, betraying exhaustion. And even after so much time, it was as if nothing had changed between the two of you. He knew there was a small body behind him, sleeping peacefully in the bed, but he didn't dare to look. He could hear the sound of the machines, and then it all came crashing down on his shoulders at once: he had a son with you. By his calculations, the boy should be 9 years old. Wow! He hadn't seen you in over a decade.

"I have so many questions," he confessed with a choked voice, and you don't remember ever seeing him cry before when you were younger.

"I searched for you so much. I called so many times," the last thing you wanted was to make him feel guilty, but hearing that, he felt like he should have kept searching for you too. As soon as you left, he went asking where your father had gone. He worried and tried to find out something, until enlisted in the army, and then all he did from then on was just think about you; never seeking; never trying in any way to find you again because it seemed easier to accept that you had left forever.

You tried to distance yourself, even though you hated it, to look at his face one more time. Simon allowed you to run your fingers over his features until your eyes landed on your son behind him. He knew where your gaze had gone, but he didn't follow it. And of course, you would understand what was happening.

"Look at him," you pleaded with tenderness, but he shook his head while rubbing his eyes, as if they hurt. "You're hurting me doing this, Simon."

The last thing he wanted was for you to think he was rejecting the boy, so he stood up, fighting the weakness in his legs and slowly approaching the bed. The child's face was turned exactly in his direction, as if anticipating he would be there, but his eyes were closed, and his breathing was peaceful. It was only then that Simon realized how he was hyperventilating until he felt your hand gently pushing him closer.

His heart hammered in his chest, overwhelmed by anxiety and fear, as he watched his pale and still son. Each step was a journey through an ocean of uncertainty, each breath an effort to maintain composure in the face of the storm raging within him.

As he leaned over the fragile and inert body of the boy, a wave of emotions engulfed him. His broken heart cried out to stop the affliction that plagued his son, that beloved being he barely knew.

Tears blurred his vision as he stroked Lucas's hand, so small and vulnerable compared to his, so similar to yours. Each touch was a silent promise to stand by him in every moment, even in the darkest and most painful.

He found himself whispering words of comfort, as if each sentence could ignite a spark of life in his son's dormant soul. He pleaded to the heavens, to the stars, to any higher power that could hear, for a miracle, for a chance to see those childish eyes shine for the first time in his life. He was an identical copy of Simon at that age, and it made him wonder if the color of their irises was also the same, the same shade of brown. A sudden curiosity arose: what was his voice like? Would it sound like yours, so gentle and reassuring, or could it somehow sound like his?

There, in that moment, time seemed to freeze, the whole world disappearing. It was as if he were dreaming. There was no way all of this could be true, someone must be playing a prank on him. He wanted to look at your face again, to smell you while he ran his hands through your hair to make sure it was really you, flesh and blood. "He's going to be okay," he poured out the words, even though he knew the danger in promising that, and you dove into them, knowing you didn't have to face everything alone anymore.

#simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x y/n #simon riley imagine #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost x you #cod modern warfare #call of duty #imagine #x reader #simon ghost riley #mom reader #mother reader #task force 141 #angst #ghost cod #ghost call of duty #cod mw2

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natalievoncatte · 9 months

Text

This was it, the moment of truth. The plan was going flawlessly, and in a few minutes, Lena would have what she needed to complete and launch Non Nocere. She was about to save the world.

(You mean your master plan, Lex’s voice snickered in her head)

Lena shook it away, as she had so many times already. When Kara glanced at her, Lena played it off as the cold. She was, after all, standing outside in the actual Arctic, brutally aware of how underdressed she was even in a heavy woolen coat and doubled up leggings.

Even here at the roof of the world, Kara was gorgeous. The sunlight glared off the ice and yet it only seemed to make her more radiant, her sun kissed skin practically glowing, blue eyes the color of the sea darkened by a distant storm.

“I’ll never understand why your cousin built this place here,” said Lena.

“He didn’t. There was an ancient Kryptonian outpost here from long, long ago, when my people were more expansionist. They abandoned any plans to colonize other solar systems thousands of years ago.”

Lena looked at her, damning her own curiosity. Kara, for her part, looked far away.

“Why?” said Lena.

“They decided they’d done enough damage to their own world.”

Lena blinked. Turning away, Kara inserted the key into the locking mechanism and unleashed a series of heavy grinding sounds as the doors parted.

Within, it was warmer.

(At last I walk these hallowed halls, a conquerer)

Not by much, though.

Lena drew in a breath and looked around, allowing herself a moment of unrepentant awe. The ceiling arched high overhead where the crystalline walls joined to form a peak, giving the Fortress of Solitude the air of a great cathedral. This gave a reference to the statue of a handsome man and beautiful woman, pressed side by side with joined hands and expressions of fear and hope as they gazed off into some distant star.

“That’s Jor-El and Lara, my aunt and uncle.”

Superman’s parents, Lena thought.

“Don’t your family have statues?”

“Kal-El created the memorial,” said Kara. “He didn’t know about my family until I told him.”

Lena huffed.

“I have a hologram of my mother,” said Kara. “It’s really just a computer interface. She doesn’t… I remember them in my own way.”

Kara cleared her throat, and Lena saw tears welling up in her eyes. A twist of pain turned in her stomach and her hand fell on Kara’s shoulder.

(That’s it. Play to her emotions. Use them like she used yours.)

“I hate this place,” Kara whispered.

Lena pulled her hand back.

“Why?”

“I thought I’d be excited to show you. There’s just so much I’ve always wanted to share, but this place is a tomb. When I’m in here, it’s like home, but not. It’s just a reminder of everything I’ve lost, and it makes me feel sick how much I want to go back.”

“Of course you want to go back,” said Lena. “It was your home.”

Kara let out a low, shuddering breath.

“It was, but it’s not anymore. I’ve lived on Earth now longer than I did on Krypton.”

She was looking up at the statues, or past them, perhaps. Lena couldn’t help but study her profile, the curve of her jaw and the soft lines of her face. How could someone who could crush coal into diamonds with her hands and kill with a glance be so angelic?

(Such an innocent face to hide such betrayal)

Lena swallowed, trying to still herself and tamp down the sympathy she felt.

“I envy him.”

“Who?”

“Superman. My cousin. He’s so lucky. He only gets the good part, the blessing from my uncle and the special heritage. For him, this place is joyful. It’s the answer to all his questions and full of strange wonders and joys. He tries to mourn them but how can he mourn something he’s never known?”

“I’m sure it must be sad for him, wondering what they were like.”

“He never knew them to disappoint him, either. It want his father that created Medusa. Sometimes I just wish I could forget it all. This place reminds me I don’t really have a home.”

Lena turned to her sharply.

Kara sighed. “My home is still out there. Argo, I mean. It’s basically a new Krypton. I could go if I wanted. Kal is there with…” she trailed off.

“Lois,” Lena added. “I pieced it together pretty quickly after you told me your identity. He’s Clark Kent, isn’t he?”

“You’ve always been too smart,” said Kara, and she sounded so genuine, so admiring, that it made Lena briefly wish she didn’t have to do this. That it had been real.

“I can’t go back there. I can’t be part of that society anymore, where people don’t get any choices in what they do, or…” Kara looked directly at Lena, dragging out the pause a beat too long. “Who they love.”

“What do you mean?”

“On Krypton, we had what I guess you’d call arranged marriages.”

“So you’d never have been able to be with Mon-El.”

“I wouldn’t have been allowed to choose him, no,” said Kara, “though thinking back, really thinking about it, I don’t think I would have in the end.”

Lena looked at Kara, who still stared up.

“Why?”

“We were only together because…” she let out a long sigh. “Because I don’t have a home anymore, not really. I can’t go back to my own people and I don’t belong here.”

“Of course you have a home, Kara,” said Lena, lightly touching Kara’s arm.

“You’d don’t know what it’s like,” said Kara, choking back a small sob. “No matter what path I take I have to kill part of myself. I can’t be Kryptonian and human, no matter how hard I try. The Kryptonian side keeps taking things away from me. I can never be my whole self with someone.”

Lena swallowed.

“Just look what it did to us,” said Kara, turning to Lena. “I almost lost you because of it, because of the lies I let myself tell.”

“Kara,” Lena lied, “I’ve forgiven you. We don’t have to re-litigate this.”

“Maybe you have, but I’ve never apologized to you properly. I’ve just been trying to smooth it over and fill in the cracks and I know how hard you’ve tried but it’s not enough for me to just let you do all the work.”

“Kara…”

“I was such an asshole,” Kara said, and Lena blinked. In any other circumstances, she’d have made a joke and chided Kara for her unusual profanity.

“I mean about the Kryptonite, but about other things, too. I shouldn’t have treated you one way while I was in the suit and another way when I wasn’t.”

“I’m still not sure which one was real,” Lena blurted.

(No! No, what are you doing? You have to make her think all is forgiven so she’ll take you to the armory!)

“They both were,” said Kara. “I was angry about the Kryptonite, and I was scared. I admit it, Lena. As much as I trusted you then and I trust you now, I didn’t know what to think. My best friend was making a poison that only hurts me.”

“I didn’t know it was you,” said Lena. “If I’d known…”

Kara swallowed.

“I know.”

“If I’d known, I would have come to you about Sam. I would have come to you about a lot of things, Kara.”

Kara tried to blink back tears and failed. Something about seeing her cry openly while wearing the suit made her seem so small and delicate.

“I wish I could be human,” said Kara. “I wish I could just be the person you thought I was and we could just be us.”

(Us? Lex snarled. You’re nothing more than a dog to her, that can be put down when she’s done with you!)

Lena’s throat tightened and tears stung her eyes.

“You know, when I was fighting Red Daugher, Lex’s clone of me…”

Lena looked at her sharply.

“I… I couldn’t beat her. I was losing. She… she killed me. My heart stopped. I was gone.”

Lena choked out a soft sob, unable to restrain it.

“Why are you telling me this?”

“I knew I couldn’t go. I had so much to stay for. I don’t know how I did it but I dragged myself back from the other side, I just… I thought of Alex and J’onn and all my friends and everything I have to live for, everything here, on Earth, my home. Even that wasn’t enough.”

“What was?”

“You,” said Kara. “I couldn’t go without making amends with you, or at least trying. You’re my lodestar. I’ll always come back to you eventually.”

(She’s just trying to keep you in line. It’s a lie. It’s always a lie, she’s all lies!)

“I’m glad. I need someone around to safe me from assassination attempt number 547,” said Lena. The joke turned to sand in her throat, her voice on the edge of breaking.

“I’ve spent weeks trying to think of a magic combination of words that will make it better, but there isn’t one, is there? I can only tell you how sorry I am that I did what I did and promise I never will again. I’m so sorry I hurt you. It’s the worse thing I’ve ever done.”

“Kara…”

(Just let her trust you. You’re almost here. Myriad is here. The answer is here. Fuck her sentimental bullshit. She-)

Kara slowly reached out and caressed the back of her fingers against Lena’s tear-stained cheek.

“It’s crazy how dying made me realize so many things.”

“Like what?”

“All the things I never knew I wanted to do, until I knew I’d never do them.”

Lena swallowed, hard, fighting the urge to lean into her hand and press the warm skin to her own.

“Like what?”

Kara leaned in, filling Lena’a space, and Lena was acutely aware that she was the only warmth in this frozen place. Kara’s other arm swept around her, Kara’s fingers spread wide across Lena’s back.

“Is this okay?”

(No! NO NO NO!)

“Yes.”

(You can’t do this! You killed me, Lena! You killed your only brother for her and she’s a liar and a-)

Kara kissed Lena the way she did everything: Fully and completely. As Kara drew them together, Lena tipped back just a touch, as Kara seemed to tower over her, surrounding her in a warm embrace. Their lips met softly, chastely. Lena felt like she was in middle school again. It was as if she’d been rewound back to before her first clumsy, lip-pinching kiss in a boarding school bathroom.

She wasn’t sure whether it was Kara who deeepened the kiss, or her. In the end, it didn’t matter. Kara escalated by degrees, pausing as if to murmur an apology at any moment. Lena grasped her like was the only solace in a raging storm, feeling those steel cable muscles flexing beneath her suit.

Then she squeaked in Lena’s mouth when Lena grabbed a handful of ass, and Lena giggled.

“Do you want this too?” said Kara.

(You killed me!)

Yes, Lex, and I would again.

“Yes,” Lena admitted, and it was as if some great heavy weight had fallen from her shoulders.

She threw herself into Kara, shivering.

“It’s cold in here.”

Kara pulled Lena tight, wrapping them both in her cape.

“Let’s get what we came for and go home.”

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heliads · 10 months

Note

I’m not sure if you write for Marauders or not, but I thought I would ask. I’ve also never requested before, so apologies if I do this wrong.

My request is a Regulus Black x a female Potter reader where they fake their deaths to hide from Voldemort and destroy all his horcruxes in secret. Once they’ve destroyed all the horcruxes they reveal that they are alive to Sirius and James, and there is a cute reunion scene that’s really fluffy.

Again, sorry if I did this wrong. Thank you so much!!

oh i would do anything for the marauders (including writing for them)

masterlist

Night has fallen when Regulus Black tells you that he’s leaving. He waits until now, the final hour, as if hoping that the dark shades of midnight will hide what he’s planning from the rest of the world. Regulus will be found out, of that he is certain, he just hopes that he’ll have enough time to do some sort of good before he’s caught.

The smart thing would be to leave before anyone got word of his disappearance. Regulus is not smart when he comes to you, however, or so he admits when he shows up on your doorstep when you were just about to go to bed.

Regulus says that he’s leaving alone. It doesn’t explain why he showed up to say goodbye, or perhaps the thought of that solitude is the very reason for it. Regulus is alone except for when he’s with you. Every time that he was lonely, he sought you out. It makes perfect sense that now, when he fears the quiet abyss of death, he would want a farewell from you one last time.

You, however, are unwilling to let him go. It was hard enough having to endure the past few years estranged from him like another brother to let go. You’re a Potter, he’s a Black, and even though Sirius switched over to your side, Regulus hadn’t. Not yet. Not until now.

It had all but torn you to pieces, choosing loyalty with your brother James and his best friend Sirius when Regulus seemed so far away. Regulus had always been kind to you throughout your years at Hogwarts, the two of you closer than anyone despite how your scarlet school robes clashed with his emerald ones, and just when you swore nothing could separate you, he signed on with the Death Eaters.

Now he’s in front of you, telling you that he’s going to take down the Dark Lord or die trying. It seems like a fool’s errand, and a dangerous one at that. That’s what you tell him after you get over the shock of seeing him after such a long time, once you remember to invite him into your house and lock the door securely behind you.

The outside is blank and dark, but in your home, you’ve never felt more alive. You had wondered what it would be like to see Regulus after so much time, and it’s like you’re back at Hogwarts instead of in some small apartment close to your job. He’s here, and you’re here, and the thought that he’s about to go fling himself into the grasp of unwarranted death is unthinkable.

Perhaps that’s why you let it happen under only one condition: that you be there too. Regulus is a brother and you are a sister and the two of you understand each other, you always have. That’s why you know without a doubt that Regulus will not stray from this quest, even though you try to persuade him from it nonetheless. It’s why he knows better than to fight when you assert that he won’t be doing it alone.

You did try to talk him out of it a little, at least. Why would it be him of all people to try to take down Voldemort? When there are so many witches and wizards fighting in the cause, why should he be the one to die?

You had not gained much by way of explanation. “It’s my responsibility,” he had said simply.

Regulus would know about responsibility. Regulus, who joined the Death Eaters to appease his parents, who regretted the choice from the moment the inked skull appeared on his forearm. You’ve caught him staring at the accursed tattoo for hours, only when he thinks no one else is around. You know he only feels comfortable wearing long sleeved shirts so he doesn’t have to look at it and remember what he became.

It is his responsibility to save the wizarding world, and so it will be yours, too. Regulus isn’t pleased at first when you tell him that you’ll be going with him on the quest to hunt down the horcruxes, but you refuse to change your mind. When the moon hangs high in the sky later that night, you think he goes to sleep with a smile at the thought that he’ll have such a lovely traveling companion. He tells you as much when you set off, anyway.

He might as well be smiling about something, you won’t have much reason to do so until the difficult deed is done. You’re already leaving under terrible circumstances as is; in order to avoid detection from the Dark Lord and his followers, you and Regulus have staged each other’s deaths. When your friends come upon the scene later, they’ll believe that Regulus, a Death Eater, came by your home to kill you, a member of the Order of the Phoenix. You fought back and managed to wound Regulus enough to end his life, but not before he returned the favor for you as well.

It’s a horrific sight, the illusion of both of your bodies lying side by side. Your brother will find this out later, and be sick with grief. Regulus’ brother too, even if the taint of betrayal will make the whole scene wretched with wrongness. For now, though, you have no time to think of possible reactions nor the difficulty of what you are forcing your friends and family to endure. The only objective in your mind is how to destroy the horcruxes so that the war can be won.

Regulus knows of the first, a locket in a cursed lake somewhere deep underground. He takes you there first, and it takes him weeks to sleep off the aftereffects of that awful potion hiding the locket. Whenever you close your eyes, you see the rings of fire you had to conjure up to fight back the Inferi swarming from the lake, how they had emerged from the greenish lake ready to drag Regulus into the water the second he bent his head to drink.

Regaining the locket is an awful thing, destroying it more so. It takes the two of you several days before you’re able to do it for good, and all the while the accursed relic whispers lies in your ears, trying to convince you to abandon each other. When a wave of rage so strong it almost kills you makes you black out and slam the thing with the Killing Curse, it works at last. You’ve never used an Unforgivable Curse before. It takes surprisingly little willpower to do.

Regulus talks you through that. It’s easier to address the use of Avada Kedavra than the ugly truth both of you know, which is that there will be no guarantee that either of you will make it out of this infernal quest. It took everything in you to find and destroy the locket, which at least you knew about. What of the other horcruxes? How will you survive them, too?

The two of you travel across the country, listening in to wizarding news and doing your best to find out what the remaining horcruxes could be. You share space, you share secrets. You’ve never been closer to Regulus in your entire life. The thought that the two of you went a year or two without speaking after you left Hogwarts is unthinkable now. How could you breathe without him?

After dark, he lies awake, watching the light from a charmed lantern flit across the ceiling. He says, you don’t have to do this. Stay with him. Risk your life like this.

You prop yourself up on one elbow so you can get a better look at him. The furrows in his brow are more pronounced now, and the shadows under his eyes, which have been there since the day you met him, are now dark enough to look like the hollows of a skull. Of course I do.

As if the universe meant to reward your faithfulness, you’re blessed with a clue the next day. Regulus recognizes a Death Eater furtively walking down a street and follows him, overhearing the man tell one of his friends that Lucius Malfoy was apparently given some strange token of the Dark Lord’s. They’re both jealous that they weren’t given Voldemort’s refuse, apparently, but their complainings are like music to your ears.

Malfoy’s item is a diary, and it writes pages of frantic scribblings in an attempt to save itself before Regulus hits it with Fiendfyre which, strangely enough, works. Stranger still was trying to break into Malfoy Manor to find a journal, but all’s well that ends well. You got in, you got out, and although there are definitely some house elves under Lucius’ employ that will wonder why they heard voices in the dark that one night, no one is the wiser.

The next secret you hear is not an item but a place, the family home of the Dark Lord’s mother. The two of you comb the place relentlessly until you find an old ring buried deep beneath the earth. Just to be sure, you check it for curses, and after a great deal of difficulty, are able to remove the dark enchantment before destroying it for good.

You lie awake that night, musing aloud before you can stop yourself. “We only barely caught the curse on that one. What if the other ones were enchanted as well and we didn’t know it?”

Regulus sits up, brushing dark hair out of his eyes so he can look at you. “What if we’re both going to die because we didn’t catch something in time, you mean?” He asks.

You nod reluctantly. “I don’t want to seem like I’m losing faith, because I’m not, but– I worry sometimes, you know?”

Regulus stands, takes both your hands in his palms and kisses them. “I rely on your worries, Y/N. They keep us alive. And no, I don’t think we’re cursed. Not yet, at least. If we were, I could at least die with you. That’s worth something, isn’t it?”

You laugh. “That’s morbid, Regulus.”

“But true,” he muses.

He tells you he loves you the next day. It feels like it’s been a long time coming. You have never been one to declare love immediately, but it’s different with Regulus, always has been. If you were in the mood to be honest, you would admit that you have been in love with him for years, ever since the two of you were small enough to hide in your brothers’ shadows and find each other there. You have loved him since the start. You will love him until the end.

Taking down the next horcrux is almost easy, if such things were allowed to be said. You’re fuelled by the hope that this might be the end. Standing over the shattered bits and pieces of Helga Hufflepuff’s Cup, you almost believe it. It’s funny, you always thought that you would somehow be able to tell when you finally destroyed the last of the horcruxes, like you could feel it in the air or something.

You feel nothing when the cup is destroyed. It scares you. You and Regulus have been extremely careful to keep yourselves hidden, but you dare to poke your heads out of the shadows for a little bit to determine if you were successful or not. Although you hear rumors that Voldemort seems weakened, that his forces have started losing battles despite him being at the helm of the attacks, he is not yet dead.

It’s heartbreaking. After all of your efforts, your trials and tribulations, every injury and weakness the two of you have sustained on the quest to defeat the Dark Lord, it still isn’t enough. You listen, you spend weeks and then a full month waiting for information, but nothing comes. There is no sign that there are any more horcruxes, but Voldemort has not died. How could it be so?

You come up with a tentative solution in the end, which is to go to Dumbledore for advice. In a way, it seems almost childish– why should the headmaster have any idea what to do, other than the fact that he led your school where the two of you first met and studied? Then again, Dumbledore is the most powerful wizard of his age. If anyone would know how to proceed, surely it would be him.

Regulus agrees readily enough, recognizing the necessity that if the two of you cannot find a way to continue on your journey, it will never end, and before long the two of you are Apparating near familiar territory and walking up to the castle on foot. You disguise your faces with a simple charm; the two of you are supposed to be dead, after all, but all it takes is one glance at you and Dumbledore is smiling and telling you that he’s glad to see two such familiar corpses up and about.

You laugh, you can’t help it, and remove the charm once you and Regulus are safely in Dumbledore’s office and out of sight. After explaining your predicament, Dumbledore sits for a moment in contemplative silence and then says at last, “It must be the diadem.”

You and Regulus exchange glances, then look back at him. “What diadem?” Regulus asks.

“The diadem of Rowena Ravenclaw, of course,” Dumbledore muses. “Tom Riddle– the Dark Lord, if you like your pleasantries– was captivated by the magic of the four founders of Hogwarts. You have told me already of Hufflepuff’s cup, this is the expected companion piece. It must be somewhere within the castle, but where– but where–”

He clears his throat after a lengthy pause. “I give both of you permission to scour the castle for it. I will caution the staff not to look too closely at either of you. Take however much time you need, but I would urge you to hurry. More of us die by the day, and it would do us no good to have our friends fall as a consequence of our own dillydallying.”

You look up at him. “And what happens after we destroy the diadem? It must be the last horcrux, or the last one he’s created so far. Will that kill him for good?”

“No,” Dumbledore murmurs, “that will end the horcruxes, not the monster who made them. Once the horcruxes are gone, he will be severely weakened and search for however has been hunting down his creations. You two are lucky that you have not died already, you know. I have no doubt that he has already begun attempts to stop you from completing your goal.”

You shudder, remembering past encounters. Death Eaters had nearly caught up to you many times, and on numerous occasions, they had, requiring firefights of spells and hexes before you and Regulus could escape to relative safety.

Beside you, Regulus tenses, obviously thinking along the same lines. “How do we survive once we destroy the last of the horcruxes? How do we stay out of his sight?”

Dumbledore sighs, weary and heavy. “I will put a stop to him,” he says at last, and that is that.

You and Regulus conjure up your charms once again, disguising your faces to all students who happen to pass by. You look in towers and dungeons, empty classrooms and great halls. It’s a mad memory rush being back here, and it is difficult not to mix memory with your current situation.

When a few hours of searching pass by, though, and neither of you have found even the slightest hint of a diadem, your fond musings are replaced by desperate anger. This is your last step, surely, if you could just find the thing. It would all be over if you could merely find one diadem in one castle.

Regulus leans against a nearby stone wall, eyes cast up to the sky in a plea for help. “Where would a diadem be? In the Ravenclaw dorm, maybe?”

You shake your head. “Dumbledore said it wouldn’t be there.”

You pace back and forth, trying to wrap your head around the issue. What other sections of the castle are particularly known to Rowena Ravenclaw? You’ll wear a path into the carpet beneath your feet while you try and think, but nothing seems to work until the wall opposite Regulus suddenly shifts away, revealing a door.

You and Regulus stare at the room that has appeared out of nowhere. “Do you remember a hidden room near here?” Regulus asks faintly.

You shake your head. “James loved tracking down every secret passage, and he told me most of them, but I don’t think even he knew about this one.”

It’s nice to have a first. You smile to yourself, then take Regulus’ hand when he offers it and walk inside the mysterious room.

The chamber is packed to the gills with objects great and small. It occurs to you that even if the diadem is somewhere in here, it could take years to sift through all this junk. You and Regulus look at each other, shrug, and each take a corridor in which to search.

About half an hour has gone by before Regulus gives a shout. “Found it!”

You race over to his side, and stand, breathless, looking at the very same artifact that’s caught his attention. It’s old, dusty, and not particularly noteworthy, but it has this terrible feel to it that all of the horcruxes had in turn.

“This is it,” you whisper. One last shot. Then, the end.

Regulus lifts his wand, summons a tendril of Fiendfyre, which goes straight through the diadem, shattering it like glass. It’s silent for a moment, and then, when the last shard of the diadem falls to the ground with a quiet crunch, you’re both rocked backward by a boom like a cannon. This, at last, you can feel. This is it.

Dumbledore is waiting for you when the two of you emerge from the room. “I’ll take my leave of you,” he says, “and thank you.”

You nod. “What do we do now?”

For a moment, despite the burden that has now been placed on your old headmaster’s shoulders, despite all the lives that have been lost and those that will still be taken, Dumbledore smiles. “You can go home.”

Sirius used to stay the night at the home of you and your brother, you remember that from your school days. It would then follow that, with everything in peril and friends disappearing by the day, Sirius would be at James’ right now. It certainly saves a trip for you and Regulus. Dumbledore gives you their address before you leave, and he tells you to waste no more time.

As if there is anything in the world that you want more than to see your family. You and Regulus Apparate a street or two down from the house, then walk over, hand in hand. Before you know it, you’re waiting on the threshold. The lights are on somewhere in the back of the house; you can hear voices, then a shout of a laugh you remember as Sirius’. It’s more quiet than it used to be, a little more hesitant. He’s lost a lot, the elder Black brother, but he’ll gain some today, too.

Regulus squeezes your hand. “Let’s come back from the dead,” he says.

You smile at him. “That sounds good to me.”

The doorbell echoes through the house, ceasing all conversation. There are slow footsteps to the door, a pause as someone looks through the peephole, and then all of a sudden the door has been flung open and you’re engulfed in a whirlwind of a hug. Your brother is here, your brother is lifting you off the ground with the force of his embrace, and it’s been so, so long since you’ve seen him, but you’re back again, and everything is okay at last.

James’ eyes are as wide as saucers when he finally leans away to get a good look at you. “Y/N, you’re– I swear, if you’re a Death Eater using Polyjuice, I will hurt you so badly–”

You laugh. “I’m me, James. Just me. If you want proof, though, I offer up the memory of when you were a first year and totally in love with Lily and you had me–”

James cuts you off quickly. “Alright, alright. It’s you. God, it’s you.”

A figure appears behind James, and a quiet voice asks, “Regulus?”

James moves aside so Sirius can see his brother. Regulus stands perfectly still, says, “We tried to fix it, Sirius, we hurt him, the Dark Lord, we–”

Regulus told you years ago that he wasn’t that affectionate with his brother. It’s to be expected, of course, divisions between brothers rarely settle themselves sweetly. You suppose that’s why Regulus looks so stunned when Sirius reaches out an arm and hugs him. You’re not sure if he’s trying to crush his younger brother or just make sure that he’s actually real, but they both look vaguely confused when it’s over. Happy, though. Glad to be alive.

The news will come out later that week that Voldemort is dead. Dumbledore did what was promised and killed him. That means the war is over, and that means you can rest at last. You’ll get a place to stay with Regulus. The thought of leaving him now that the two of you can be together without fear is unthinkable. You don’t want to be without him, and thanks to your suffering on the path to destroy the horcruxes, you won’t have to.

Dawn breaks. And you think– you think this might be it. Not a harsh end, but a soft one. A quiet aftermath. You’ll live, and Regulus will too. That’s more than you expected during those months on the run. When the two of you went to sleep unsure if you’d wake up in the morning, your wildest dreams could not encapsulate the wonderful life you have right now. It is marvelous, and it is yours. That is all.

requested by @bookishirishdancer, i hope you enjoy!

harry potter tag list: @rogueanschel, @cameronsails, @neewtmas, @lovesanimals0000, @with-inked-solace, @sher-lokid7, @eclliipsed, @frenchgirlinlondon, @23victoria, @ilovexavierthrope

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myouicieloz · 7 months

Note

Irene and you have been together for the past couple months, but have only gone as far as making out. But, this time is different and you tell her that you’re ready to go all the way, which leads to your first time together.(smut)

Show me how

Bae Joohyun x reader

Warnings: smut, nsfw

Word count: 2.9k

Notes: sorry for the wait!!! i wanted this to be sweet and cozy, almost like a hug from someone dear yk? i hope it is to your liking <3

Dating Irene was like a summer breeze: it was easy, fresh, and cozy, just like feeling the sun on your skin, after spending too much time locked up at home. Unlike your past relationships, you felt completely comfortable talking to her about anything. You were always on the same page, and you couldn’t help but fall in love with her more and more each day as you observed her kind, caring and cheerful nature.

Even though you have dated people before, you’ve never gone too far beyond just a few kisses or touches, simply too insecure and scared to be that exposed in front of others. Besides, you’d never actually trusted any of your past partners, either. They were clearly only using you for your body and your fame— trying to prove a point by attempting to ruin the shy, reserved girl from the group. As much as you knew that was how most of them saw you: merely a prize, waiting to be conquered, you couldn’t help but to feel used and lost, wondering if the problem wasn’t, in fact, yourself.

Which was the reason you were so insecure about evolving things with Joohyun, ever since you’ve started dating.

Truth be told, most of your hesitancy came as a way of protecting yourself. Being thrown into the industry by your parents so young— first as a child model, then as a trainee, and even now, as a senior idol— has pushed a lingering feeling of being constantly displayed to others on your skin, since that’s how you’ve always felt: exposed to tabloids and cameras in every way dimmed possible, from such a young age. Your whole life, ever since childhood, has always been rushed. Not once did you remember not being pushed to do things or act more mature than your age. In response to that, building up rough boundaries and ensuring your own peace and quietude were the first things you did, as soon as you managed to obtain full control of your life and your actions. You so desperately needed it; you’d accept nothing to be rushed, at least not anymore.

Which was why Irene and you were so perfectly matched. You felt it from the first time you were introduced to each other, through Joy.

You’d been talking nonchalantly in the girl’s parents’ cafe when Irene barged in, making you immediately drawn to her— as were everyone else at the establishment. She simply had such an angelical aura: like an untouched piece of marble, beautiful to look at, and too exquisite to touch.

“I think you’d get along well. You both seem like you need some company, you know.” Joy’s words made you both laugh awkwardly, at the time. Yet, she was right, in the end. Both of you had been alone for many years, longing for something that just seemed impossible to find in the current days. At least, not with such a technological world and people’s routine being so energetic, frantic, and intense.

After your first encounter, mediated by Sooyoung, you started seeing each other frequently. You enjoyed talking about art, and she’d even agreed to join you in your latest hobby: ceramics. The two of you spent hours together, getting messy with clay, laughing, going on coffee dates and walks in parks that were full of green— your favorite color, she quickly learned. It was easy to be in Irene’s presence, and, for you, it was even easier to fall in love with her.

You shared sweet kisses by moonlight, stayed up until late watching the stars, and for the first time in so long, life felt right to you; like it wasn’t made of demands or expectations that left a bitter feeling in your guts.

For once, you felt as bright and happy as a butterfly, in a garden full of flowers. With Irene, life had a meaning, a purpose.

She’s also been nothing but respectful to you in all those months you’ve been dating, too. Not even once had she pressed you about sex, always making sure you were comfortable with everything and ensuring you two talked out your issues and boundaries. You got to know each other deeply before your bodies interlocked, and that was something you’ve never had with your previous relationships. You loved Joohyun for who she was: the kind, attentive, caring leader and friend with so many deep interests and hobbies. You could spend the rest of your days with her and still feel like there were so many parts of her to unravel. She was indeed pure art, an untouched angel.

And, while it had been crucial for you to take things slow, you now realized you truly felt ready to take a further step into your relationship. She was patient, calm, and you felt ready. As you stare at Irene, chatting ever so sweetly with her bandmates, your chest fills with warmth, knowing much you absolutely adored being hers and how lucky you were to have her to yourself. You trusted your girlfriend more than anything in the world, and you desired her so, so much— in every way dimmed possible.

With that, couldn’t help but to gawk at her body as she walked towards the bar built in Yeri’s garden, the wooden structure put up to celebrate the maknae’s birthday. It was a simple and reserved celebration, yet your eyes were practically undressing your girlfriend right in the middle of the garden, for everyone to see.

You wanted her badly, like you’ve never wanted anything else in your life. And it’s not like you needed anything else, either. Not when you had her, making you feel so safe and secure. So right in a world full of wrongs.

Irene must’ve noticed the frown on your face— as you’ve always been pretty expressive— because she approached you quickly, placing her free hand on your waist in a delicate motion, “Hey, is everything ok?”

You take the drink she’s been holding in your hands and take a sip, nodding, “It’s all good. I’d like to go home, though. Do you think Yeri would be sad about it?”

You watch your girlfriend’s brows furrow, scanning your body in search of any signs of discomfort. When she doesn’t find any, her expression turns even more confused.

“I mean, we’ve just sang her happy birthday, and the girls wanted to—” You cut her by brushing her long, thick hair off her shoulders, fingers hovering her elbows as you bite your cheek to suppress a smile, once you feel her shiver. You’ve never touched her like this, specially in a semi-public space. Sure, you’ve fooled around many times, but you’ve never presented yourself with such assertiveness, such hunger.

Irene gulps. She feels her self-control escaping her body when your mouth brushes hers, mint breath caressing her skin. Yet, your sultry lips never found her mouth, and Joohyun finds herself opening her eyes— never even realizing when she closed them.

“Home, please?” You ask again, making a show of sipping on her drink. Irene’s gaze follows your mouth— all of her focus on the way you suck on the straw: so eagerly… much inappropriate for the scenery.

Safe to say, you find yourself humming happily in your girlfriend’s car not even five minutes later, as Irene eyes you suspiciously from the driver’s seat.

Despite nearly dying of curiosity, Irene doesn’t utter a word until you’ve arrived at your massive house, eyes still narrowed at your direction as if she expects you to regret your decision and tell her to go back to Yeri’s place immediately. She’s absolutely conscious of the anticipation working its way on her skin; it heats her to the core, and soon enough, it becomes impossible for her to stay put. Just the thought of having you, being the one who has the privilege to touch you, unravel you, make your eyes roll in pleasure… It’s enough for her panties to dampen and her hands close into fists, preventing herself from grabbing you by the hips and fucking you.

She licks her lips, staring at you through her lashes, still expecting. You’re the one in charge; with one word, your girlfriend will grant you all of your darkest, dirtiest wishes. The only thing you have to do is ask. Say it, even, and it’s yours.

You know it as much, as you interlock your fingers with hers and take your time going up the stairs, through the hallways as you kiss Irene without rush, ravishing her taste and her sweet, plumpy lips.

“I want you, Joohyun.” You breathe, guiding your girlfriend onto the mattress as you take your time untying your dress, letting it fall down your shoulders at its own pace. Even though you find yourself bare in front of her, you don’t feel threatened in the slightest. “Want you to make me feel good.”

If anything, you can only feel safe, respected, and loved. Feelings you’ve spent so long searching for. Far too long.

She extends her hand to you, holding you with such tenderness it nearly makes you melt on the spot. Soon, you find yourself under her, being smothered with kisses that trail down your chin to your neck and chest. However, Irene’s warm mouth stops just before touching you— to grant you plenty of time to process it all through, most certainly.

In fact, the words that brush past her lips reassure you of that, as she looks up, tone bearing a hint of hesitance. As much as she was nearly jointing from need, she wanted you to be completely clear of your wishes, “Are you really sure?”

You nod. “The most I’ve been in my entire life.” You murmur, scratching her scalp. Your touch is both reassuring and demanding, bringing her closer to your skin.

You let out a loud moan once her mouth is finally on you, and God was it worth the wait. Her saliva-soaked kisses leave a trail down your abdomen until every inch of skin is hers, and she’s reached your thighs. Her eyes are dark and don’t leave your piercing gaze, either, as she lowers herself until she’s reached your core.

You can tell she’s studying you: taking note of every touch, every kiss that has you gasping and stuttering. Irene takes delight in testing your preferences, attuning herself to what pleasures you the most. Ravishing herself with your body’s reactions, like the attentive woman she is.

“You are too beautiful, my love” She praises, grabbing both of your legs as she opens them, now presenting you completely exposed to her. You try to close them, involuntarily, but Irene shushes you, pecking the inner skin until you’ve relaxed enough for her to start teasing, once again. It’s only then that she bites, and even though her teeth barely sink in, it’s enough for you to jerk your body forward, a surprised gasp evading your lips.

It makes her laugh, adding another memory to her mind. “You’re sensitive, pretty girl.”

It’s the way she hums that provokes such sensations out of your body, you decide. The precise pressure her lithe fingers apply to your waist, the way she palms your breasts, twisting and pinching your nipples until they’re red enough to her liking— each time a little harder, to entice a louder moan. She’s playing with you as she wishes; as she’s always dreamed of, and it’s driving you absolutely crazy. You’re drenched, and Irene hasn’t even touched you properly.

She gathers your wetness with two of her fingers, going up and down on your slit until she’s gathered enough coat that she finds them sticky, noticeably wet. Only when she’s deemed enough, her fingers leave your sex and find their way onto her mouth, sucking without any rush. Your own throat starts to water as she does so, her eagerness dense enough to make you divert your gaze, feeling your face heatening up. You don’t keep your looks averted for long, since those same fingers gently tap your lips, gagging you as far as they can without making you choke.

“I’ll take care of you, Y/n.” She whispers, with her thumb caressing your mouth, encouraging you to continue. Which you do, with your eyes never leaving her hungry gaze.

Once she decides you’ve done your job of cleaning well enough, Irene’s attention returns to your pussy, as she lowers herself once again to your core.

“Do you want me here?” She blows on your cunt, smiling against your skin as she hears your loud whines. She does not pity you at all though, placing a languid, slurpy kiss on your pussy before moaning, too. This was heaven, for both of you, “Or perhaps here?”

You were sure you were mumbling too many incoherences, now. Not that you cared, anyway. You couldn’t, not with the way her nails were scratching your skin so gently, or her own wet, loud grunts that reverberated onto your pussy and made you see stars, not a single thought going through your mind. All you could think of was how desperately you needed to cum, how ardently you wish Irene’s mouth never leaves your skin.

You feel her hot breath fade from between your thighs. Thankfully, her fingers find their way to your dripping cunt before you even manage to whine, the mix of sensations making you press yourself onto her hand, so she’d reach further. You loved her so much. You needed more.

“S-so good.” You murmur, lost in pleasure. As soon as you close your eyes, dropping your head back to deepen your sensations, Irene places kisses onto your abdomen, now going all the way up until your lips interlock in a slow, deep kiss.

“Don’t close your eyes, my love.” She whispers, with her fingers still working onto building up on your pleasure. She squeezes one of your breasts as she says so, enticing another particularly loud moan from you—just as she intended to. Your sounds were the most heavenly melodies to her, and Irene simply couldn’t believe she’s spent a lifetime without hearing them. “Look at me when I fuck you. Fuck- you’re so tight, dearest.”

The low pitch in her voice makes you clench, humming as you keep your eyes on her.

Irene’s fingers are knuckles deep inside you, her rhythm intensifying as she nearly retreats them fully from your cunt to ram on you again. Your back arches, and she licks her lips, drinking from your reactions. It’s nearly unbearable, to have such focus on yourself; her sole attention, adoring and memorizing every inch of your body in her mind. Her gaze, so hungry yet compose, her light kisses on your burning skin, and her thumb brushing your clit without paying much attention to it—it all works you up to a hard, shaking orgasm. You can feel the waves of pleasure building up in your cunt, yet you can’t seem to muster the right words to tell Irene just that. It’s all glossy and unfocused, not even enough air to calm you down from the orgasm you can sense that is so soon.

“D-don’t stop, please. Oh my fucking— don’t stop, ’so close,” You manage to utter, gripping your girlfriend’s hair ever so desperately.

She does feel you, though. Before you even say it. Irene can tell, from the way your pussy clenches, tightening around her hold. “Come, princess. For me.”

The permission was all you needed to reach your high, and you nearly get overwhelmed by the amount of pleasure you feel. It escalates to your whole body until you find yourself as a trembling mess, chest moving frantically to adjust your fast breathing. You let out an even louder whine as Irene’s mouth is on you again.

“Shh, take it easy. I’m just cleaning you up, love.” She tells you, once you try to move her head from her cunt. And, even though her words add a bit of a scold, there’s a hint of a smirk on her face, as she adds. “Don’t whine. What kind of girlfriend would I be if I left you so messy like that?”

Now that you’ve come down from your high, Irene’s words make you blush. She didn’t have time to make a joke or give you a reassuring tug, as she usually would, though. Her focus is on your sex, as she pays long, sloppy licks to it. Her nose brushes your clit— the post-orgasm sensitiveness making the sensation twice as hard, and you bite your lip to keep yourself from moaning and begging.

“J-joohyun…” You try to get her attention, after what it feels like a lifetime. You can feel the pleasure starting to build up again, and your girlfriend is clearly dozed out, vigorously enamored with your cunt as she eats you out for her pleasure. With one last harsh suck on your clit, Irene abides to your wishes, her face now in front of yours.

You take a minute to brush her delicate features, before speaking anything. Her defined jaw, her long lashes, her lustrous eyes. You adore her; she truly makes you feel like the luckiest woman in the world.

“Perfect.” She murmurs, breaking the gap between you as her lips kiss you with gentleness. Her words make you smile onto the kiss, caressing her neck as you bring her even closer. “My love.”

“I could say the same of you.” You divert your eyes to the covers, insecure about your following words. Breathing deeply, you continue, “Thank you for this. And for not rushing me, even after so many months. I loved it, and I love to be with you.”

As you stare at Irene’s big, chocolate eyes, you find nothing but the purest form of love. There’s no possible way to not feel comfortable under such embrace.

“I’d wait many more. Years, even, if it means having you by my side. I’m in love with you, Y/n. Not just for sex, not for your body.” She clarifies, hiding her face on your neck as she always does, when you find yourselves tangled in a messy embrace. “I love you for who you are. Your qualities, your flaws, your passions… And I’m very thankful to feel loved in so many ways by you, too.”

You frown, playfully poking her ribs. “Are you saying I’m flawed?”

Irene rolls her eyes, silencing you with a kiss.

“Shut up, you idiot.”

And soon you’re making out again, with the promise of a long, long night. You feel respected, safe, and secured. As you run your fingers through your girlfriend’s small waist, you immediately know: there’s no place elsewhere you’d rather be.

#red velvet x reader #red velvet imagines #red velvet smut #irene smut #red velvet irene #bae joohyun #irene x reader #bae joohyun x reader #sol writes

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slaybestieslay946 · 4 months

Note

uhhh you asked for requests SO luke x fem reader where she joins him with kronos pls😓🙏

thank you for ur request, sorry it took kind of a long time to get to it! i took it in kind of a dark/tragic direction, but hope you enjoy anyway!

Revenge, or Justice?

MASTERLIST

word count: 2100

pairing: luke castellan x nemesis!reader

warnings: kind of manipulative behaviour? they're not good people yall!!

a/n: decided to step out of my delusion for five minutes and confront the fact that Luke Castellan is not my perfect little princess :((

You understood Luke Castellan, in ways no one else did.

Around camp, he had always been the golden boy, charming, talented, kind. But you could see through him, and his act.

As a daughter of Nemesis, you could practically smell the need for revenge. Every time you saw him, it was like a flashing beacon. The twitch of his face each time someone mentioned his quest, or he caught a glimpse of that scar in the mirror.

The way he tossed and turned in his sleep, waking up from nightmares to stare at the ceiling angrily.

It was so obvious to you, and you always wondered how no one else saw it.

For years, you hardly interacted. Your worlds would never collide, even if you understood him better than most people. He probably didn’t even realise you knew his secrets. That was until he approached you up front, a few days after your 18th birthday.

“Hey, Y/N.” He said as he strode up to your table, greeting you like you were old friends. Which you probably should be, considering you’d shared a cabin together for the past 5 years.

“Oh, hi.”

“Mind if I sit here?” He asked, gesturing to the seat opposite you.

You shrugged noncommittally.

“So, what’s up?” You asked, pushing your food around your plate.

“Nothing really.” He was obviously lying.

“Why are you here then?”

“Do you not want me here?”

“I never said that. I was just wondering why you’re suddenly showing an interest when we’ve never spoken to each other before.” You explained calmly, you didn’t sound bitter about it, because you weren’t.

“Hm, that’s true.” He muttered, resting his chin on his palm, “I suppose I just wanted to ask you what you think of it all.”

“All of what?”

“Camp. Life. Whatever.”

“This place? It’s alright. I’ve been in worse places.”

“Hm, that’s true.” He mumbled, seeming slightly lost in thought, as if trying to decode your answer.

“Luke, can you please just cut to the chase? What do you want to ask me?”

“Nothing. Don’t worry about it, sorry for bothering you.” He said, and quickly stood up, walking away in such a hurry that he left his tray behind.

That first interaction confirmed all of your suspicions, Luke Castellan was hiding something, and you were going to find out what that was.

Eventually, you managed to get it out of him. You cornered him in the woods one day after the campfire, and demanded to know what he was plotting. Of course, you couldn’t have known that he would declare his hatred for the gods and how he wished they could be overthrown, but it wasn’t exactly surprising. You’d always known something was off about the boy, even when you couldn’t properly pinpoint it.

“I just, I thought you’d understand, y’know-”

“‘Cause I’m the daughter of revenge?”

“Well, yes, but also-”

“No, you're right. I do understand. The gods have treated me like shit my whole life. They dump us minor children in your cabin, along with all the ones they’re too ashamed to claim. And all you major children, you're treated like you don’t exist, probably because there are too many of you to count.” You explained, looking directly at him.

He returned your gaze, and in his eyes you saw the realisation that you knew him better than he ever thought. And that he knew you in return.

“I always saw you looking at me, did you know?” He asked, not breaking eye contact.

“That you were the same as me? I had a feeling. Ever since you came back from the quest you seemed different. Angrier.”

“Huh. I didn’t think I was so obvious.”

“You weren’t. I just know a want for revenge when I see it. It’s in my blood.”

“You didn’t see anything then, because I don’t want revenge. I want justice.”

“Same difference, Castellan.”

III

It didn’t take long for you and Luke to begin making plans. He had later confessed to you that they all came from Kronos who had visited him in his dreams, insisting that the only way to overthrow the gods was to resurrect him.

You hadn’t been too happy about that. You didn’t like the gods, but that didn’t mean the titans would be any better. But Luke assured you he was only using Kronos, stringing him along to help achieve your joint goal.

Did you believe him? You believed that was his intention, but whether he could actually execute that was a different matter entirely.

Despite your slight reservations, you still chose to help Luke with his main plan, which was to steal the master bolt.

Strategising wasn’t exactly your biggest strength, but luckily Luke had learnt a thing or two from Annabeth, and he was able to formulate the plot to steal Zeus’ bolt during the winter solstice. It was something which suited him, being the son of thieves.

Meanwhile, it seemed your main role was to be his emotional support. You weren’t overly thrilled about it, but if it helped to achieve your end goal, you could deal with it.

Soon you realised just how necessary you were to Luke’s plan. He would’ve certainly cracked by now if you weren’t there to reassure him that what he was doing was right. As much as he seemed solid in his convictions, you could tell that without Kronos nudging him, he would never have acted on any of them.

Although, if it weren’t for Luke, you wouldn’t have either.

“Do you trust me, Y/N?” He would ask as you went over the plan once again, desperate for some kind of validation.

“Yes. I trust you a lot. You can do this.”

“And we’re right to do this?”

“Yes. You want justice, remember?”

“Yeah. That’s what I want.”

He preferred it when you called it justice and not revenge. He was still so righteous in some ways. Old habits die hard.

Luke only truly proved his dedication to the plan when he was revealed as the thief. He abandoned his sister and betrayed all of camp for the cause, and as you both fell through the portal backbiter had created, your trust in him was cemented.

You were in it for the long haul now, there was no going back. And as sad as you were to see Annabeth’s poor little face, you were more disappointed that she hadn’t understood. You’d thought she was a smart girl, so how could she not see that what you and Luke were doing was right?

The next few months were rough, and it took you back to the old days when you were alone and on the run. Except this time you had someone beside you each step of the way. During that time was when you stopped seeing Luke as merely an ally that you tolerated, and more of a friend you trusted.

He was strong and intelligent, and more firm about his convictions than ever before. And each day, your certainty that you made the right choice grew and grew. You hoped your mother was proud.

Luke was right. You were fighting for justice. Justice for the minor gods and their children who were constantly overlooked.

But equally you understood a large part of your decision to go against the gods had been about selfish revenge. And you were ok with that. Revenge was your thing, it always had been.

Over time, your feelings for Luke continued to grow, and you could tell he felt the same way. You’d always been able to read him like a book, and you didn’t know if that was because you were good with people, or because he laid his soul bare to you.

You hoped it was the latter, and as he hugged you to his side during rough nights on the Princess Andromeda, you knew all your hopes had come true.

But you also knew that any ‘love’ was just a footnote in your stories. You were both much more focused on your goals.

This time, it was ‘your’ plan that was put into practice. Kronos wanted to revive Thalia, to put another demigod into play that could fulfil the prophecy. But it was your idea to poison the tree and allow the campers to retrieve the golden fleece for you.

After all, you knew every demigod wanted glory, to appease their parents. What better way to goad them into doing your dirty work than with the promise of a great quest?

You were pleased to finally have a proper role in the planning, and you realised that this was your greatest strength, understanding people.

After all, it was what had led you to Luke, and now what allowed you to aid Kronos, and it worked. You were one step closer to realising your dream.

Luke had been distant ever since he found out Thalia was alive again. He suddenly seemed conflicted, torn between past and present.

You had always thought it would be Annabeth that came between him and his goal, but it seemed Thalia was the real problem.

He was determined to recruit her too, insisting that she’d fit in perfectly, and that she was certain to see things his way. You weren’t so sure. In your eyes, Thalia would only serve as a distraction for Luke, something to pull him away from his work. And something to pull him away from you.

You’d always thought that it would be just you and him. That you needed each other, in a way that went deeper than a silly teen romance. You understood him, you always had. When you looked into his eyes, you saw yourself, your ideals, your future, reflected back at you. And you thought it was the same for him.

But apparently not, apparently you didn’t know him best. She did.

“Are you sure you want to recruit her, Luke? What if something happens?”

“Like what?” He asked, his voice derisive and mocking.

“Oh, I don’t know, her saying no and then running you through?”

“She won’t say no.” He said firmly, brushing you off once more.

So when you heard Luke was injured, your immediate thought was that Thalia had run him through. And, of course, you were right.

Ethan, your half-brother, had brought him to you, back to the Princess Andromeda, and as twisted as it was, the first thing you wanted to say was I told you so.

That was of course, until you saw his broken body in the infirmary, and all thoughts of anger were forgotten.

“Oh, god, are you okay? Please tell me you're okay.” You cried, rushing over to him, and crouching beside his bed.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’ll survive. Just please don’t say ‘I told you so’ yet.”

“Okay soldier,” You responded, your voice so choked with emotion that you couldn’t help but let the term of endearment slip out.

“Do you-” He paused to take in a deep breath, his body shaking as he did so, “Do you still trust me?”

You nodded furiously.

“You’ll be with me till the end, won’t you?”

“Of course I will Luke. Till the very end.”

VII

You wonder if you knew then just how it would end. Possibly you did. You were both doomed from the moment he sat down at your table.

But you kept your promise to him. You stayed with him until the end, you survived through all those months of watching him change from the boy you trusted into the man you feared.

You stood by and watched as he grew cruel to everyone around him. Normally you were the exception, but you weren’t entirely immune to his scathing words and glances.

You sat by his body as he bled out, the golden blood of a titan shifting into the red blood of a mortal. And you didn’t resist as you too were taken.

Sometimes you wondered what your relationship would be like in a world without gods. Or at least one where they cared about their children.

Would you have even met? Would you care for each other without that common thread of anger running between you? You hoped so. You hoped that your twisted relationship was just a product of circumstance, and that the feelings were real. You hoped that they could have formed without the codependency and the paranoia.

But the truth was you were from different worlds, tied together by your goals, so desperate to achieve justice. Or revenge.

And the real tragedy was not your failed love story, but the fact that even after so much sacrifice, you still couldn’t achieve what you wanted.

A world where you didn’t need to be an archangel of revenge at the age of 18. A world where you could simply live.

#luke castellan x reader #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #luke castellan #pjo #writing #fanfic #angst #not looking good #betrayal

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onlyhereforthestories · 1 year

Text

All It Takes Is A Bet (Alexia Putellas x Reader)

A fic from me finally! Well a normal fic. Sometimes writing is an escape for me and that last fic was just that. This one is more what I normally write and i have enjoyed writing it. To the person that requested it thank you <3

You weren’t a hugger, but when you did hug someone you knew that you made an impact. You had been told this fact not long into your teen years, a friend of yours had been dumped by a boy and you had given her the only comfort you knew people liked to receive. A hug. Which was a major shock to your friends group at the time because you had not once hugged any of them in the year you’d been friends. The friend that you hugged didn’t let go for a solid 5 minutes and was asked why by the rest of the group. She simply stated that you gave her the best hug she had ever had, even better than her own mothers.

That’s the interaction that started the constant in your life that was people doing whatever possible to receive a hug off you. For the most part you found it funny to see the desperation of some people to get something you didn’t really understand as being that wonderful, but it frustrated you a lot too. There was a reason you didn’t give out hugs unless they were needed, you found them to be vulnerable. And being vulnerable was not something you did in front of people, not unless you loved them.

This fact was highlighted even more when you joined Barcelona woman’s team. The girls there were different to everyone else, they had a constant need to be touching one another in some shape or form. They all respected your space and kept the touching to light brushes or piggy back celebrations only until the day you hugged Alexia for the first time.

It was the dying minutes of a league game, Barca needed to win to stay at the top of the table but your opponents were making it very difficult. You were all getting frustrated but no one more than Alexia. She always had felt that overall responsibility to be the one who changes the game and right now she was struggling to make anything happen, a fact you could see written all over her face every time you caught sight of it.

You were a forward by nature but today you were put in behind Jenni and had a bit more of a playmaker role and that’s just what you did a minute before the final whistle was being blown. You dropped in deeper than you had all game and picked up the ball from Mapi, as you turned you spotted Alexia making a straight run through the middle of the oppositions centre backs so you played a ball over the top which landed pretty much on the woman’s front foot. All Alexia had to do was control it with that first touch and slot it past the on rushing keeper, something she did with ease.

As soon as the ball hit the back of the net she was running at you, you had assisted a few goals for the Spanish superstar already but this one felt different, it felt important. So when she got close to you and jumped you did the unexpected and caught her, squeezing her in a tight hug that she stayed in for as long as was deemed acceptable for the middle of a game. The rest of the girls dog piling on top of you in celebration for not only the goal but the first hug you had given a member of the group.

The win was celebrated all together but that wasn’t the main talk of the dressing room, no the main talk was you hugging someone. Alexia found herself at the forefront of the questioning, most of them along the lines of what she had done for you to get the extra treatment.

You saved your captain from the questioning by telling the girls they could all get one hug on their birthday. This seemed to pull the teams mind away from questioning the hug that happened to who was going to get the next hug off you.

That was the first of many hugs you would go on to share with the woman everyone called their captain, a fact that both annoyed and excited some of your friends on the team. Each and every hug you shared with Alexia in front of them was spoken about and questioned, the teasing going unnoticed by the two of you. You remember after one hug Alexia had told them that your hugs were the best and that’s why she kept going back for more which had ended up with you running away from a mob of women football players all threatening you with a drowning if they didn’t get to know what it was like to hug you.

“Come on y/n, when are you going to admit that you either love La Reina or give us all more than one hug a year on our birthdays?” The tone of Mapi’s voice was both teasing and whiny, giving away the fact that she was very much hating and loving the conversation she had started.

“I will be doing neither of these things. I don’t hug people unless its needed and I don’t do feelings.” You went back to the porridge you had in front of you whilst the other women around the table shared a silent conversation.

“Okay how about this then.” Leila had a smirk on her face so you knew that whatever came next was going to be interesting in some way or another, never the less you nodded for her to continue when you realised she was waiting for the go ahead. “If you can refrain from hugging Alexia for the next week we will believe you don’t have feelings for her and stop asking for hugs from you all the time.” This had you confused, surely this was to easy. It wasn’t like you were actually in love with the woman they were talking about. Were you.

“You have a deal.” In your head this was the easiest win of the week, you don’t do hugs so having to have even less of them can’t be a bad thing.

Your thoughts on the bet changed by the end of the day, after a pretty successful weight session where you felt like everything moved really well, you sat down for lunch. Sitting at a table full of empty seats was your first error. By the time your chicken had cooled down enough for you to take a bite, the rowdy crew had joined your once silent table.

Claudia was whispering to Patri and Mapi before she cleared her throat and directed her eyeline to your figure. “So, we have all been let in on your current bet, well all of us that care.” The woman glanced to the table full of the more mature players on the team, of which the closest to you, Sandra turned round and stuck her tongue out at Claudia in retaliation to the comment. “and we want you to know if you do hug the all mighty caitana of ours, what do we get?”

Your eyebrows rose up at this, you were not sure what they were getting at but you knew this would not end well for you. These woman who you cared a lot for, were all strong headed and would not let you get away with anything.

“I did not make this bet in the first place! I don’t not have to do anything with a loss here, which won’t happen because I don’t do feelings as I said.” The words fell on deaf ears, all the women around you just continued to look at you waiting for a better answer than that. Throwing your hands in the air slightly in a very off character show of silliness you spoke “Fine. If I fail, which I won’t I will add again, you can all get a hug each.”

The girls all shared a look with one another, communicating silently about the offer you have given them and whether they would get any better if they pushed. When Mapi turned to you with the smile you could only describe as mischievous, you knew they were happy with what you had offered.

Once the girls had all nodded and attempted to get you to shake on it, which you would not, they finally left you alone to eat your now cold food in peace. Well as much peace as you could get with the lot of them around you still making jokes and laughing about the silliest of things. Something that although you might complain about to them you would never take for granted, being part of this team and this group was always worth the slight inconvenience.

You were putting your plate away when you caught a glimpse of Alexia, the midfielder gave you a small smile before starting to walk towards you. You had started greeting each other with a small hug recently and that came to mind as she got closer. You could feel the eyes of some of the women on the table you just left on your back, you couldn’t hug all of them more. In a moment of sheer panic you turned on your heal and bolted out of the dining room before she could reach you, there was no way you could lose the bet but you also knew you would not be able to deny the beautiful woman her hug. Oh fuck you were in for a long week.

You made it to the stairs down to the pitch when Pina came running up to you with Patri hot on her heels, “That was real smooth and totally not a giveaway to the fact that you are so loosing this bet.” Before you could tap the back of the young players head, they were off back in the direction of the food hall.

You shook your head and started towards the field muttering under your breath about stupid bets with silly teammates and blue eyes so captivating they made your mind fog.

Alexia noticed a difference in you right away, you were not going near her and when you did you would link your fingers behind your back and avoid as much eye contact as you could. A complete change to the stage you had got to with the Spanish midfielder, and Alexia was pretty sure that the group of women giggling and whispering just over her shoulder had something to do with it. She made a mental note to get some information out of them after she spoke to you.

“Whatever is going on here we are talking about it Wednesday, we have dinner with Alba that you promised her you would be there. And as cute as you are all nervous, I do like seeing your eyes.” This got your attention and your head snapped to meet her face. You sheepishly smiled at her and nodded your agreement of what she had told you. You had promised the younger Putellas sister you would have dinner with them after Alba had hijacked a coffee morning of you and Alexia’s. When Alexia went to reach for your fiddling fingers your eyes widened and you hurried out a goodbye before running for the pitch to start training as a distraction.

You were so unsure about your feelings right now, you were so sure this would be easy but it wasn’t. You had never wanted to feel someone's touch before so desperately but you did now, All you wanted was to pull Alexia into you and not let go. God you were in deep.

The next few days at training were hard, between the constant teasing from the group of that you had now dubbed children and the avoiding as much contact or interactions as you could with Alexia in person, you were exhausted. What you didn’t know was that Alexia had managed to find out exactly why your mood towards her had changed, she had overheard Pina and Patri talking about the distance you had obviously put between you both and they were giggling like school girls about you losing the bet very soon.

She could see the toll it was having on you, the twitch in your fingers when she got close and the slight longing look in your eye when she caught it. Alexia decided it was time to step in and help if she could, she hated seeing you and not hugging you at the very least. She was going to talk to you alone and plan how to get through this, and maybe give you a hug to get you through if you didn’t think it was cheating. She was starting to understand that she felt stronger feelings than she had thought previously for you but she wasn’t going to put that on your plate just yet. It wasn’t the time and she didn’t want to lose what you had started to build. This plan of hers would require getting you alone without anyone knowing though which was not going to be an easy task. The girls were keeping both eyes on you at all times waiting for you to break.

Alexia’s only plan was to see you outside of football, that’s how she found herself outside your apartment door. She was nervous which was odd, she was here to help you out but it felt like more. It felt personal and private to be here alone, especially with how she has been feeling over the last month. Shaking that thought off she knocked softly and stepped back to give you some space when you opened the door.

You pulled the door open with a small confused frown on your face, you were just settling down to watch some old game footage for the evening and you weren’t expecting any visitors. Upon seeing the person behind the knock, your face changed into a small, shy smile and you didn’t even asked why she was there just opened the door wider and stepped to the side to allow her to come in.

Alexia whispered a small thank you as she walked past the doorway but what threw you off guard was the kiss she pressed ever so softly to your cheek as she passed you. It had you frozen with your door wide open and staring straight ahead of you. The sound of Alexia hanging her coat on the rack broke you out of your shock and you closed the door and lead her through to your small kitchen to get her a drink.

After getting two bottles of water from the fridge and handing one to the Spanish beauty, you lead her through to the front room to sit on the sofa. You wouldn’t lie to yourself, the itch to hug her was high. Since you laid eyes on her on the doorway to your apartment all you had wanted to do was hug her, be held by her, hold her. But you couldn’t, not if you wanted to keep to the less hugging you are used to, that you would like to continue just with the exception of her.

“Game footage?” Alexia’s smooth voice broke through the silence and caused you to look at her. Having her in your house was surreal, she looked even more beautiful sat in your environment. Your brain flashed to quiet mornings in, sipping coffee on your sofa with the woman cuddled with you speaking about anything and everything. Shaking your head to rid yourself of those unneeded thoughts, you tried to remember what Alexia had just asked.

“Oh yeah, it’s the final you guys won last year. The Copa de la Reina.” You had asked for the footage to see the style of play in which the women played in major tournament games, something you hadn’t seen yet in person. Jona had been more than happy to send it to you, seemingly excited about your thought process and enthusiasm.

“This was a good game, the girls played so well. We would have scored even more if you were there.” You could feel the flush creeping up your neck without your control. You were never one to take compliments well, you just didn’t know what to do or say when someone gave them to you, so you nodded and ducked your head so that the woman next to you couldn’t see what effect she had on you.

Alexia however could see the redness on your neck and it filled her with warmth and hope, hope that the conversation she is about to initiate with you will go the best way it can. It wasn’t a conversation she was planning on having with you today but she felt like it was the right time, that it was only fair to you that you know what she is feeling.

“You scored enough La Reina.” You had broken out of your shyness and gone down the teasing route. You even sent the woman next to you a small cheeky wink.

This took Alexia by surprise, you laughed at the shocked look on her face which snapped her out of it. Digging her fingers into your sides had you barking out a louder different laugh, the woman with you giggling along before taking mercy on you and stopping the movement of her fingers.

As you took a moment to calm your currently ragged breath, you looked up and noticed the position you and Alexia found yourself in. She had one hand behind your back on the sofa which meant she was leaning slightly over you, her hair falling over her face. A face that was only inches away from yours, a face that was smiling down at you and had a look in her eye you couldn’t quite place. Alexia reached up slightly and swept some of your hair behind your ear before doing the same with her own before she spoke.

“This wasn’t how I planned on telling you this but life sometimes works in weird and wonderful ways. I was going to talk to you about this today anyway but right now all I want to do is kiss you. Please can I kiss you?” Alexia held eye contact with you the whole time she spoke, it was only when she finished that her eyes dipped to your lips. You were at a loss for words no words could explain what you felt right now, but you knew you wanted to kiss her too so you nodded.

Not a second after your head had moved did you feel the soft press of the lips that the women you had been slowly falling for connect with yours. You both took a few minutes of soft sweet kisses to map out each other’s lips, both leaning back in whenever a break in the kiss happened neither wanting it to end. By the time Alexia pulled back, you found yourself laying under the older woman, her hands on either side of your head so you weren’t being crushed. You could feel your cheeks heating up once again when you thought about what you just did and what could come from this so you tugged her closer so you could hide in her neck.

Alexia shifted you both so you were laying sideways and she started running her hands through your hair. You had melted into her, snuggled under her chin and soaking up the calmness of the moment when your brain triggered. Pushing yourself backwards away from her you thumped to the ground, hard. “What are you doing y/n? Did you hurt yourself?” Alexia was leaning off the sofa looking over you. Your eyes were wide as you processed you lost the bet, you would now have to deal with the constant asks for hugs and they would know you liked Alexia. You were freaking out and Alexia could see it.

“Y/n carino?” She called you, she didn’t want to startle you but she needed to get through to you. “Miel?” The pet names were slipping out but she didn’t care she was just trying to get through to you. Deciding that her voice wasn’t going to help she got down and kneeled by you before cupping your face and brushing your cheek with her thumb. She saw the moment you come back to her, your eyes locked and yours welled up. “Hey it’s okay, can you tell me what’s got you upset? I’m sorry if I shocked you. I shouldn’t have forced you into that.”

That fully snapped you out of your current running thoughts, you never wanted her to think she did something wrong here. “No, no. You didn’t force me at all, I promise I wanted that just as much if not more than you did. It was more the cuddling after, I lost the bet.” You saw the relief wash over the brunette beauties face before you saw the smile take over and the laugh that bubbled up and out of her mouth. You were confused about what was funny about that but you weren’t complaining about hearing the woman’s sweet laughter.

Alexia composed herself before she explained, “Lo siento, it’s just that I kiss you and all you think about is losing a bet with the girls. You’re lucky I like you and know you because otherwise my pride would be incredibly hurt. And because I know you I know you are worrying about whatever they said you had to do if you lost the bet, but don’t worry about that because they don’t need to know you lost. You have 3 days left before you win and we both know I want you to win.” You blushed at the wink she sent your way as well as the words she spoke, she wanted you to win so maybe you hadn’t lost just yet.

Alexia held out her hand for you to take, which you did without hesitation, and when you grasped it she pulled you both back up onto the sofa and back into a similar position you were in before. This time your back was pressed into her front and she pressed a kiss to your hairline before pressing play on the footage and spending the evening talking the game through with you.

It was the final day of the bet and you, albeit through cheating, were finding not hugging Alexia easy. Yes that was only because you got to hug her outside of being with the team so not hugging her around them wasn’t really a concern to you anymore. The only problem is that the girls were getting suspicious, the longing looks and slight sadness that was you at the beginning of the week had disappeared and they had all noticed. Alexia pointed it out last night and had warned you that they would come at you today to try and win the bet they so really wanted to win.

The two of you had devised a plan that you were sure would catch the others off guard, not to mention prank them at the same time. Your only issue was you weren’t the best at putting things on like emotions so you just hoped the girls didn’t look too much into your facial expressions.

When you saw Leila backed by Patri and Pina on either side of her heading in your direction at training you almost bolted off the field, but they were there already and you bolting wouldn’t make you look any less suspicious anyway. You tried to look a little annoyed before they even started talking so they would get the hint you’d had enough with all this and you wouldn’t have to do the plan you put into place, but they didn’t and so it was time to put the plan into play.

“You’ve been too happy for a girl that has had no physical displays of affection with their major crush in almost a week. Well until today, you’ve got this miss grumpy pants expression on your face constantly.” You grunted at that, at least your slight annoyance about their presence was working in your favour.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” You decided the vague approach would be the best, you weren’t one for sharing your feelings normally anyway the girls usually had to prise it out of you and that was what they would have to do for this fake information too. But to put it on a bit more you dropped the sides of your mouth a little when you looked off and saw the Spanish beauty you hoped one day soon you would get to call yours. When you both were ready for that.

You saw Leila follow your eyeline and spot who had made your expression change, turning back to you she gave you a confused look before speaking again, “Why haven’t you spoken to her today, you are normally attached at the hip even though we’ve got this bet on. Has something happened?”

Now was your chance, you mustered up all the thoughts of sad kitten and puppies in the hope of bring at least a single tear to your eye. Blinking rapidly you felt a drop on your cheek and the shocked expression of your friends told you it had worked, and worked at the right time too because before they could ask what was happening or why you were sad training was resumed. Step 1 complete.

You avoided any and all interaction that wasn’t football based throughout all the training session and Alexia help her part of the plan by staying as far away from you as she could. You could tell that your plan was working because by the time you got changed and went to the food hall, all the girls who had a bet with you were huddled round a table whispering and glancing over their shoulders.

Step 2 was well into motion. You kept your head down and collected your food taking it to one of the tables as far into the corner as you could and made sure you had your back to the rest of the hall. When you heard the footfalls head your way you made sure to straighten your posture before grunting out a “What do you want?”

“I want you to come and sit with us like normal. I know you won't talk about what is wrong and I get that but don’t ignore us.” Leila had a point and you knew it. No matter the plan you didn’t want to upset your friends so you stood up and followed her knowing that this might mess up the plan.

When Alexia entered the food hall after her captains meeting, she was confused when she didn’t spot you at the table you said you'd be at. When she scanned the room and spotted you at your normal table she was slightly confused that makes the plan trickier. Deciding that this was obviously okay with you as you were there she went ahead with the plan with the slight change of location although she needed a few minutes to think of something to say now.

The original plan had been for you both to whisper random stuff in a heated way to make it look like you were arguing and then you to storm out but now Alexia actually had to think of words to say that weren’t going to hurt you.

You were listening quietly to a conversation Patri was having with Claudia when Alexia made her way over, you had seen her walk in a little while ago and thought maybe she was going to pull out of the prank plans you had because of your change of location but maybe not. When she reached you, you noticed the faraway look in her eye. You thought maybe she was detaching herself from what she was about to say.

“I need you to leave me alone y/n, I asked you yesterday for you to do this but you still tried to come near me at training. I’m your captain not your friend, I don’t want to be your friend.” You knew she didn’t mean it but you couldn’t help the pang of pain you felt from hearing her say this, at least getting up and leaving because you were upset wasn’t hard to fake. Because you didn’t.

“What the hell Ale?” “Jesus what’s wrong with you?” “She's done nothing to you.” Alexia was bombarded with angry teammates but she wanted nothing more than to run after you. She could have swarm she saw a tear leaving your eye as you got up which wasn’t part of the plan.

“She stopped whatever was happening between us, I liked her and she just stopped.” Alexia wanted to teach the girls a lesson still like planned so she said what you asked her to days ago when you made the plan. She looked around the group as their faces fell, each and every one of them at least had the decency to have guilty looks plastered across their faces.

“Oh god what have we done.” Leila was the first to speak and before Alexia could ask her what she meant, even if she already knew, Claudia was spilling the whole bet. Alexia listened to it all before she turned on her heels abruptly. “Idiotas” With that being said she left the hall in search of you.

Alexia found you in your safe spot, the pitch. You were laying in the centre circle staring up at the clouds that had just covered the sun, temporarily giving you a relief from the heat. She made her way over to you and laid next to you before snaking her fingers down your arm and slotting your hands together. She was incredibly relieved when you didn’t pull away, even let a small smile slip out when you squeezed her hand.

“You didn’t mean what you said right?” Your voice was small and insecure she could hear it. Alexia vowed to herself at that moment she would do all she could to make sure you never doubted how she felt for you from that moment on.

“Well maybe slightly…” Alexia was cut off when you attempted to sit up and pull your hand away, something she didn’t let you do. “No wait listen hermosa, I meant that I slightly meant it because I don’t just want to be your friend. I want to be your one, the one you feel safe with, the one that you call on bad days, the one that hopefully one day you come home to. I want you to be my girl.”

You could feel the tears slip down your cheeks as you pulled on the woman's hand to get her closer to you, just where you wanted her. “I was yours the moment you hugged me that first time.”

The smile you shared would be one you would remember for a long time, both of your building feelings shone in your eyes. You tugged a little harder on your joined hands and Alexia fell into you. You didn’t even give her a second to think before you connected your lips to hers. The two of you sat there on the training ground pitch sharing sweet kiss for a few minutes, soaking up the new development in your shared chapter.

When you pulled back to lay back down Alexia followed, she tucked her head into the crook of your neck and made herself comfortable against your side. She was just doing off in the comfort you made her feel when the scream came from the tunnel.

“Your hugging La Reina! We win. Y/n you better get rid of your girl because I want me promised hug.” Leila’s loud mouth really did project in the quiet of the almost empty field.

You bolted upright, grabbed your now girlfriends hand and shared a quick look before saying. “Run.”

#woso x reader #woso imagines #woso imagine #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas imagines #alexia putellas x reader

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