#''How familiar should I be? Am I giving away too much about my emotional state? Am I giving away too little?''
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#it's never natural. it's always artificial.#It's always asking yourself ''is that too much? is that too little? is my tone right here? should i be smiling?''#''Does this person actually want to know? How long should I listen to this person talk about something I don't care about?''#''Is it reasonable to leave yet? Will I miss out? Will I appear creepy if I linger?''#''How familiar should I be? Am I giving away too much about my emotional state? Am I giving away too little?''#Obsessively trying to guess what the other person wants and is thinking so you don't weird them out.#Obsessively trying to remember what you know about the other person so you don't seem indifferent?#''No theory of mind.'' Fuck you. I wish I had no theory of mind#I wish I didn't have to waste mental capacity thinking about it.
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loved your new fic :) was wondering if you could possibly make a part two of it that would just be the morning after with lots of fluff n cute stuff as they just got back together?
obviously it’s absolutely your choice & there is no rush at all <3
SORRY (2) - T. KAULITZ
synopsis: for the first time in over a month, you wake up beside tom. at first, you are unsure of what to make of the situation, tom quick to reassure you.
content: tiny tiny bit of angst but mainly fluff
a/n: thanku so much!! part 2 to this - i feel like i hardly write fluff and all my page is smut (it gets a little boring sometimes) so decided to write this req to compensate for the lack of fluff i post. this is something a little short, but hope u enjoy!! 💞
warmth. the first thing i am able to register when my body begins to stir, eyes fluttering open and shut on the verge of consciousness is the heat that envelops my skin. the feeling is foreign, almost new to me, though somewhere within the haze i find the familiarity of it all, gaze slowly falling downward to find a pair of arms wrapped securely around my waist, the person who they belong to also just as close, soft breathing tickling the skin of my neck as his head rests beside it. i probably would pay little attention to the increase in temperature as i wake, if i hadn’t done so alone the past month, usually greeted with the harsh realisation that tom wasn’t mine anymore - until now.
but i don’t feel secure, nor happy, that i wake up beside the man that i love, as i had thought i would if the day ever came that i managed to get him back. instead, i feel strangely out of place, thousands of questions circling my mind as this situation leaves me more confused than ever. sure, i remember the night we shared, the passion, the raw emotion - it is one that cannot be mistaken for anything but truth, because if tom was lying about what he had told me, then god, he’s a pretty fucking good actor. hell, even i couldn’t brush his words aside ‘they weren’t you’. how could i? he had told me exactly what i wanted to hear, and yet i lay here, not as ecstatic as i should be, my heart failing to burst with joy at the sudden confession that he still loves me. he knows that he leads me blindly, his words sweet as honey, meaningful as gospel, igniting the dull flame within me whether they were true or not - i am far too devoted to consider their credibility.
tom however, clearly isn’t overthinking half as much as i am. his mouth agape, obnoxiously loud snores escaping from it, his body tangled within the sheets and my own - he probably wouldn’t notice if a burglary happened right next to him. hesitant to wake him, the idea of facing the awkwardness that will arise from whatever happened last night makes my stomach churn with utter dread. so i lay silently, eyes fixed to the ceiling, looking for any distraction from my wondering mind, though the quiet doesn’t help, fuelling the ‘what if’s’ that continue to give me nothing but a massive headache, eager for the remedy that is his consolation.
the secure grip around my waist begins to tighten, too much for it to be accidental. silently praying that he is just stirring in his sleep, my body stays still, head betraying my mind as it slowly turns to face him, only to be met with his own eyes fluttering open, a low groan leaving his lips as he stretches out.
“morning leibe.” he states so nonchalantly it is almost like we had never broken up, his lips nearing my own as they attempt to pull me into a kiss. i turn my head, slightly hesitant to melt into his embrace, unsure of what we are right now, the questions in my mind far too important to be ignored, even when his lips are so close to mine, soft and pink, almost gravitating me toward them against my will.
his eyebrows furrow at my rejection, arms slowly moving away from my waist, instead resting a gentle hand against my hip as he speaks. “what’s wrong? did i do something?”
my heart breaks, tugging at the strings at his confusion. honestly, he hadn’t done anything wrong - not right now anyway. i don’t know what we are, and that thought scares me, more than he realises at first glance. i have always been this way, liking answers to be clear, on paper, with zero doubt of them being interpreted differently. so this situation is a nightmare come true, tom’s intentions, though seemingly clear last night, still a hazy blur amidst the thoughts piling in my mind. and i hate leaving him in the dark, though he is unconsciously doing the same to me right now. but i know that it isn’t fair to shut him out as i always do, deciding to speaking my feelings, whether things end well or not.
“i just- i don’t know what we are. did you want me for a quick fuck last night, or-”
“you really think i want you for a quick fuck?” he asks, voice low and soft, lacking any anger within it as i had expected. instead, he remains calm, hands tentatively reaching upward to cup my cheeks, my entire face resting within his heavy palms. his thumb slowly strokes the skin next to my lips, face inches away from my own as the soft breaths escaping his mouth fan against my cheeks.
my silence speaks volumes - letting him know how confusing this whole thing is to me, though it seems the lack of clarity is clearly one sided: tom’s brows furrowed, eyes slightly narrowed as his mouth parts, little sound escaping from it. but my silence, whilst surprising to him, is equally precious, because it buys him time to continue. his hold on me strong, yet his words slow and soft as they pour from his lips turn out to be the most beautiful - and somehow reassuring, contrast imaginable, especially when in this moment, i desperately clutch onto any comfort that he shows. and, luckily for me, he intends to remind me that my worries are mere delusions - his confession music to my ears.
“schatz…c’mon, you know you’re more than that to me.” he seems at a loss for words, tongue swiping nervously across his bottom lip between words, knocking the small metal ring that adorns it to the side, playing with it in an irregular motion, his eyes just as skittish.
silence indulges the room as he awaits my response, his eyes scanning my expression almost desperately, the same way i had looked at him moments ago, the roles reversing far quicker than i had expected. he is waiting on me, seeking my reassurance, his statement coming out as more of a question, though it seems directed to the both of us. he is asking himself the same thing - soon realising that he is equally as keen to receive consolation as i am.
“i don’t know it’s just- weird, i guess? i’m not over it. i tried to act like i was, but look where i ended up, at some shitty club with a random guy at my hip.” each words that falls from my lips becomes harder to say, soon realising that this is the first time i have spoken about how i truly feel after we parted. feelings change, people move on and time continues to run its course, but none of that had happened, my soul just as empty as it had been the second he left. my expression mirrors my emotions, tears soon building around the brim of my eyes, threatening to spill from them with another word. but i take that chance, knowing that i am in far too deep to keep anything left unsaid - especially when he is here, and i have him listening, really taking in my words, instead of brushing them off as he did before. “and i can’t go through having my heart broken again. once was enough, don’t break my heart again, please.”
“baby…” he trails off, his arms wrapping tightly around my trembling frame, body following as it presses against mine, soothing me in the way i wanted, no, needed. truthfully, my confession couldn’t be taken as a complete surprise. i know it, and tom knows it too, his brief silence proving that he wants to try, the small circles trailed along my back temporarily taking away the pain, giving him the time to think about what he is saying, to properly consider his choice of words, rather than spewing out anything that will console me.
a minute passes, heavy breaths escaping from my lips, masked within the small sobs soon mixing into the soft air until they eventually turn into silence, my eyes soon drying, thin red lines stretched across the sea of white surrounding my irises, in place of the saltiness of my tears. it is at that moment when his face appears from my shoulder where it had once been resting, lips nearing my cheeks as they slowly, oh so slowly, begin kissing away the remnants of dried tears, gently making any evidence of my sorrow disappear, replacing them with the tender consolation of his company, though now it is beyond that - his kisses show far more than the reminder that he is here with me, they show that his love is there too, far stronger than his presence alone.
“i love you. i love you so much. never doubt that for a second. when you think you’ve lost everything, you’ll never lose my love for you. i could live a thousand lifetimes, and it would still be you.” it is clear that he means it this time, but if his words themselves hadn’t made that obvious, then the kiss that he places onto my lips afterward reaffirms their truth, compelling me to kiss back as soon as i am able to process the feeling of his lips, soft and pillowy, on my own.
this is love. not two people pretending to show affection, blinded by lust over true passion. because before tom, i realise that i had no knowledge of the word. the way his lips move slowly against mine, no sexual intent behind the kiss, drives me further and further into the abyss that is his love, devoted to him whether it is good for me or not. i am far too blind to be able to distinguish between right or wrong, my heart and soul in total agreement that he is the one, regardless of the fact that moments ago, i was unsure. all it takes is his reassurance, his lips on my own, to understand that nobody else is capable of making me feel this way.
seconds feel like hours, the entire concept of time slipping away as i latch onto him, lips becoming pink and swollen as they collide messily, unable to part despite the feeling of breathless that soon takes over. it didn’t matter, none of it did, because tom is my oxygen, and as long as i am able to feel his soft lips on my own, nothing else seems important. moments like these are unable to be recreated, heat rising between us, yet the distance only decreases, until my body is on top of his, tangled within the sheets, kisses soft despite the strong hold he maintains on my hips.
even when our lips separate, our foreheads remain rested against each other’s, content smiles spread across our faces, nothing needing to be said as our expressions sum everything up. his hand moves upward, running softly through my hair, removing loose strands that had found their way onto my face, tucking them slowly behind my ear. for the first time, i am not worried. i don’t waste a second considering ‘what if…’ or ‘what about…’, because it doesn’t matter to me, and once a peaceful silence envelops the both of us, it quickly becomes real, all of it - from the soft kisses, to the sincere confessions: love, there are countless ways to display it, but nobody seemed to get it right, until tom.
his fingers jab playfully into my sides, disturbing the peaceful moment, though it doesn’t alter my mood, a wider smile spreading across my face as i squirm above him, hitting his chest whilst small giggles leave my lips. in one swift motion, he manages to flip us over, somehow dragging the covers over the both of us in the process, his body now on top of my own. the same smile that fails to falter on my own face now spreads across his, though it doesn’t last as long, his mouth opening to speak whilst his hands run up and down my waist rhythmically.
“how does breakfast sound? whatever you like.” he lifts up, moving off of me and to the side, bringing my body closer to him, his arms snaking around my waist comfortingly, lips placing a quick kiss onto my forehead. “let me take you out today. shopping maybe? or what about that pizza place you like?”
“hm, i’ll take you up on breakfast. but can we stay here today? i’m tired, and i forgot how comfy your bed is.” i chuckle quietly, allowing the soft sheets to envelop me further, consequently snuggling closer into tom’s embrace, his body accepting my proximity as he wraps his arms tighter around me.
he laughs lowly at my words, nodding slowly against me, his head tilting to the side as his lips plant a firm kiss into my hair. “sure, anything you want schatz.” i smile contently at his response, sighing softly in relief, closing my eyes at the feeling of peace that soon takes over, careful not to take any of it for granted, relishing every second that i remain within his arms.
and he sticks to his promise. our bodies remain tangled together, wrapped up within the sheets until the familiar blend of oranges and pinks leak through a small gap in the curtains, casting its light throughout the room, somehow highlighting tom’s features in the most beautiful way possible, from the soft pools of brown that are his eyes, to his skin, so smooth it resembles silk itself, the golden rays melting onto his lips, still a light shade of red, decorated with the small metal ring that i have seen so many times. it is perfect: sharing ‘quick’ kisses - though they never ended that way, tom insisting on deepening them until we had to pull away, warm and breathless, meaningless conversations, soft laughter sounding throughout the room, filling the thick air with a reminder of our love for each other. the day ends the same way that it had began, my legs tangled within tom’s, arm draped lazily across his chest, his fingers running soothingly up and down my waist, lips planting quick kisses wherever they are able to gain access to. and, like clockwork, those lips utter the same words they had just hours ago, with the same truthfulness behind them as the first time they had been spoken, only this time, i am certain that he means it.
“i love you, schatz.”
requests are open! keep sending them in!!
#tom kaulitz#kaulitz twins#tokiohotel#tom kaulitz x reader#tom kaulitz fluff#tomkaulitz#tom kaulitz smut#kaulitz#tom kaulitz angst#bill kaulitz
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Hi could I request kissing in the rain with Morpheus after a fight?; thank you
[MASTERLIST] | [Sandman-inspired playlist]
“Is my love not good enough for you?”
In all of his passions, Morpheus can quickly come on a little too strong. Although, ‘little’ should be treated as a diplomatic euphemism. There’s an element of mindless obsession in him, an endless chasm that deepens the stronger his affection is. It scares you. Not because he’s changing into a violent beast of rotten flesh and unrequited love but because you don’t know how to handle it - for every nugget of gold you might think about, Morpheus shoves entire pounds of red diamonds into your hands. While such devotion sounds wonderful on yellowing pages of vintage romances, the reality is quite underwhelming: you feel burdened, pressured, as though there is a debt you have to repay him. And this imagined debenture is slowly but surely killing your love for him.
“I never said that and I never meant anything like that. I said that it feels like you’re smothering me and that’s exactly what I meant by it - you’re going a bit too fast and too strong for me.”
“All that I have given you is a token of my own affection. Human language is not quite sufficient in expressing it.”
“Do you ever consider how your actions make me feel? What am I saying, of course you don’t! You go around guessing what I want or need but never bother actually to ask. This,” you frantically point between him and you, “will not work like that. I don’t want it to.”
And without exchanging any more words, you shut the door behind you and left into the night. Wandering the empty, dark streets of the city, you have not headed anywhere in particular except forwards. Tears are streaming down your face. You couldn’t stop them even if you tried. Shortly after, the rain started pouring as though the night wasn’t cold enough already. A string of curse words leaves your mouth as you hug yourself tightly.
Rid of strength, both physical and emotional, you sit on the curb of some unnamed street you’ve never been to before. All of it is wrong. So very wrong… You have stumbled upon a man who was more than glad to treat you like a queen in a castle and the most rational thing to do, judging by your behaviour, was to tell him off for being too much.
You put your face in your hands. The cold rain was drenching you and you could no longer tell whether your palms were wet with rainwater or your own tears. A shudder shakes your body but you don’t care at the moment. Tomorrow you’re going to wake up with a cold but, again, it doesn’t matter at the moment. Nothing really does.
“I know you can hear me, Morpheus,” you whisper under your breath. “You always do, somehow. I want to make things right. I have to. Please, just… give me a chance.”
You feel heavy material around your shoulders. It smells somewhat sweet and musty like fruits and parchment. The warmth of the garment is a pleasant change from the cold rain. Surprised, you look up only to see Morpheus standing right in front of you. The small area surrounding you is suddenly dry, the rainstorm miraculously avoiding the feuding couple.
“It is unsafe for you to be out at this time,” he states in a voice strangely devoid of emotions. Morpheus appears indifferent as he helps you up from the curb. Is he not as upset as you had expected? “This is me giving you chance.”
You look away for a moment, gathering your thoughts. There is so much you want to say, it’s hard to decide where to start. You already messed up once and although you know Morpheus is lovestruck enough to let you break his heart numerous times, it was simply wrong to rub salt further into the wounds you have inflicted, even if it was not intentional. “It’s just… you don’t love like humans do, you know?”
“Why would I? I’m not human.”
Silence. Part of Morpheus expects this disagreement in the way he’s too familiar with - his heart being shattered, reality-bending love rejected as if it could never be good enough. Like he is not good enough to have a happy ending.
“Look, Morpheus, you’ve got all of eternity to fall in love and get your heart broken only to love again. I’ve only my life, not even a century. I want to be certain before I commit.”
“What would make you certain?” he asks immediately.
Truthfully, it’s a very expected reaction from him. Something about his predictability makes you scoff quietly. “You can’t just make me certain that I want this life. It’s consistency, reliability, trust… Time, Morpheus. I need time. With you; just the two of us being together, no grand gestures involved. I want to know you, not what you can give me.” Staring at Morpheus’s face, you think he looks a little lost as though it was beyond him to disjoin those two elements. A troubled sigh leaves your lips. In the cold night air, the expression of distraught turns into a barely visible cloud of fog. “What I’m trying to say is that I’m sorry, Morpheus. I shouldn’t have blown up on you like that. I know you mean well and that you only show just how much I mean to you but I need you to be patient with me. I’m still learning what it’s like to be loved by one of the Endless.”
“As much as I do not like idly waiting, I do have all of eternity to wait until you’re ready.”
His thin hands cradle your face. Morpheus leans in, your noses brushing against each other, but he lingers as though he was waiting. His shaky breath feels hot against your lips. Then, ever so gently, Morpheus tilts your head upwards only to lock you in a desperate, longing kiss.
You just know he isn’t going to have to wait long.
#the sandman imagine#the sandman fanfic#the sandman netflix#the sandman#the sandman fanfiction#the sandman x reader#the sandman x you#sandman x reader#sandman x you#sandman imagine#sandman fanfiction#morpheus sandman#morpheus imagine#morpheus x you#morpheus#morpheus x reader#dream of the endless fanfiction#dream of the endless imagine#dream of the endless x you#dream of the endless#dream of the endless x reader
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Following Stolas's strangled cry, a heavy silence hung between everyone. Michael's bright red eyes swept over each of the visitors in turn. Despite more ichor pooling from his form, he lacked any visible concern or fear.
His eyes lighted on Decarabia for a moment longer than anyone else, the faintest glimmer of familiarity in them.
Unfortunately, the Decarabia's own memory of the man was not enough to keep her steady. At the sight of his now mangled form, the young owl gasped, before wobbling on her feet and falling backwards, just barely caught by Marbas.
"Wh-What's going on here?!" Marbas spluttered, looking to Monch, Chemach, and Zagan desperately as he held his fainted sister. "Why is Michael here? Why--How--He's alive?!"
Chemach merely stared down at the group, completely absorbed in her own curious observation. Monch seemed as unnerved as the others, but they also seemed to have known what to expect from this.
Monch was the last one Michael looked to, and where his eyes locked, taking note of the crown upon their head.
Finally, he shifted, raising his head slightly to look directly at Monch. He opened his beak, and more dark blood flowed from it.
His voice was gurgling and raspy, but still he spoke.
Stolas shuddered. Was it just him, or had the chamber become colder?
He supposed it would have been too much to hope that Michael had finally been put to rest, after reading the bits and pieces from the journal Shamura had left behind. But to think, the man had been sealed away in a tomb for who knows how long?
"What are your intentions with me." Michael asked flatly. A strange mixture of emotions swirled behind his eyes--anger, fear, hope--but his voice and posture remained stiff and steady as ever.
"What?" Monch mumbled, only just barely managing to force the word out of their mouth.
"Study? Torture? Extermination?" Michael pressed, voice now curling into a dark hiss. "Though, given the state of your will, I suppose anything will be a welcome break from Shamura."
"We're not here to do anything!" Stolas suddenly yelped, flinching when Michael's head snapped to his direction, bones cracking in a fitting manner. "We didn't even know you were here!"
Michael remained quiet, so Stolas took the chance to continue talking.
"W-We don't... We don't know why Shamura kept you down here, or what they did to you, but... We read their journal, and learned about you... We... Mean you no harm--"
"If you don't wish to do anything to me, then leave." Michael cut in. "I was just beginning to tolerate my semi-isolation alongside her."
He spared Chemach a disgusted glance, causing her to give a mocking laugh as her feathers ruffled.
"L-Leave?! Why?" Stolas protested. "We're nothing like Shamura, we can help you--"
"Not only do I not want help," Michael began, finally moving. It took a great deal of effort, having only his arms to pull him along, but he turned around and began to drag himself back to the coffin, a trail of black smearing after him. "But I am beyond it."
"So you still believe that, then?" Zagan spoke up. "So fixated on your own despair, instead of taking the outstretched hand, you'll pull it down with you?"
"You sound just like your parent." Michael sneered, looking back to Zagan. "They should've had the sense to only have one of you--You just sound like a bunch of little clones, at this rate."
This made Stolas shudder, recalling Eligos' attitude and the fact he was so similar to the Stolas before him.
"Well... What about Narinder?" Stolas managed. "Don't you miss him?"
At this, Michael froze, fingers curled around the coffin's edge. He was silent for a moment, before turning away from the group.
"Even if I did miss him, I'm sure he still despises me for what I did. He should."
"Well, he doesn't. At least... He didn't, when he wrote about how he became a bishop." Monch supplied, managing to stand up a little bit.
"Lies." Michael spat. "He, of all people, should hold the strongest grudge."
"And why are you so certain?" Marbas asked.
"Because... Since I gave him the Red Crown... He is now just like me." Michael mumbled in return. "He is unable to ever die. But, if you read his recount of events, then I'm sure you already knew that."
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hey I’m glad you’re not weirded out or anything by the tickling stuff (I’m the anon by the way) I might write something with my tav after I’m done with the “my tav as a companion” part 2 with the list questions you made after my first one but I don’t how long that’ll take since I kinda feel weird writing about my tav in that way since they are based off myself not that I don’t want to do it I would like to write stuff like that for an OC I’ve never done it before but it kinda feels like I’d be doing something “naughty” which I guess I would be but anyways I’ll write something I’m gonna try and get over the awkward feeling so I can go more in depth with the “my tav as a companion” romance part because I feel like I can touch more on that
(sorry for ranting, longer than I thought it’d be)
I get what you're feeling exactly, and my only advice to that is to embrace it.
All writing in some form or another, is based on yourself. Every character you've written fanfics about, every OC you've made, every small headcanon, all of them are connected to you.
All of them, hold a small part of you in them, a small truth that you might not be unaware of. Writers can only write about their own experiences and emotions, even in fantasy and imaginary scenarios, you have to base it around something you're familiar with to be able to comprehend it.
I'm aromatic yet I write romantic stories, I have never felt romantic love so I base all of my romantic stories on how platonic love felt to me and mix it with what I think romantic love should be like based on what other people said.
I get the feeling of vulnerability when revealing things about an OC that holds a lot of your own cores as a human, that was based on your own image. That's why it's good to remember that everything else was also based on your own image, you just weren't aware of it. You've left a trace of your personality and your fingerprints on every character and subject you've touched.
Honestly, I am not in the best state health wise to answer this, but I didn't want to leave it sitting for long.
There is a fear of being cringe, I genuinely truly get it. I still feel it too a lot of times, fear of being too weird or off putting. It's so easy to tell someone to "just express themselves" until that self expression manifests in a way that doesn't fit the socially acceptable ideas of other people.
Who gives a shit if I don't like tickle stuff? What right do I have to judge you? What right does anyone have to judge you? None of us matters when it comes to your own writing and self expression, only you matter.
Likewise for me, I like cringe worthy stuff too! And I subtily microdose them into my writing because I don't have the courage to come outright and say it. I am afraid. You are braver than me in that aspect and honesty kudos to you for being yourself unapologetically.
I had an old writing blog where I only wrote tame fluffy stuff that everyone wanted, only expressed myself within social acceptable limits, only showed the most clean and sanitized versions of my art.
And you know that phrase about if you don't like what you're writing then other people won't? It's a huge fucking lie. That blog was so much bigger and more popular than this blog in a shorter amount of time.
I had triple the followers I have now, so many nice comments and reblogs, too many requests than I could keep track of. People loved the sanitized version of my writing.
I didn't, I hated it. It was empty and souless and I had to force myself to sit down and write it. Scrub away all traces of my own personality from it and make it the most appealing to the general public.
Words never flowed like they do to me now, I dreaded opening my requests back then, I dreaded checking on my notes.
And so I left it at the height of its popularity, didn't even say a thing just slowly ghosted away.
Don't do what I did, is what I'm saying. You have a lovely OC and if you want to put more of your own self and your own interests in them then so be it. I promise other people won't know and even if they connect the dots, they'd have to be actual weirdos to make judgments on a real human being based on an imaginary doll they move around.
Give Sean the tickle kink if you want that's perfectly okay. Base all of his companion answers around yourself if you want, make him an extension of you. Maybe he will slowly take what you've given him and evolve to his own character, maybe he will always remain a beautiful reflection of you, both of these outcomes are welcomed as long as they make you happy.
I did it with Sol, bpd isn't the best, and making an OC that represents all the worst traits I saw in myself and showing them love and care helpled me unimaginably. And fuck yeah I definitely base their answers around myself, every writer bases their writing around themselves, how else are you supposed to create originality? Your mind is the only completely original source that only YOU have access to!
It's a fucking gold mine, an exclusive library of experiences and moments that no one else but you know about. And you want to ignore it and put 13 layers of irony between you and everything you create? For whAT?
Kids love plushies and get attached to them because the plushies are their own OCs in a way, the dolls represent an extension of their inner psyche. So when kids hug and shower their plushies with love, or even get reinact a dramatic sad story with their dolls, it's them talking to themselves.
Art is communication, whether it be with an audience or with yourself. self-indulgence is the thing that makes art worth making. It's what gives it a soul, it's what sets it apart form AI bullshit.
And some people will see themselves in Sean. Did I tell you that the tickle fic requests I wrote had likes and reblogs from other people? I would've never imagined someone would like it besides the requester yet there were others.
We're all really weird, inside. If you're going to be original and create art that you like then it will be weird and cringy, same goes for me, same goes for everyone.
Embrace it, peel the layers of irony, be yourself unapologetically. You are worth it.
And side note, I really enjoy your requests and reading what you send me about Sean. But my own enjoyment always comes after your own comfort and boundaries. You don't have to answer any questions that make you uncomfortable in the "as a companion part 2" list.
I will always view these answers through Sean and as a reflection of him, never a reflection of the author. That's a right only you have and a line only you can draw.
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Am I Doing It Wrong?
An end to my first DnD character, Roth. (as far as i know, the DM's crafty and who knows what she has in the works)
but this is roughly how i imagined her story to end haha
The fog is cool and damp, as it should be. The same as it was when she met him the first time, seeking solace in the comfort of being hidden by its cover when he found her and sapped away her negative emotions, nearly killing her in the process. She stands there again now, the familiar shaking and tightness in her chest but this time far heavier, not the tense ball of energy it usually is. She stares into the fog and knows he’s there, even before his silhouette appears, features still obscured by the fog as he stands a few feet in front of her.
“Am I doing it wrong?”
“What? Pretending you can act like a person? Or playing in this old BnB?” His words sting, but she’s here for answers from the one person who might be able to give them.
“You’re a being of negativity, am I being… upset wrong?” Using a stronger word than upset feels wrong. Like it’s not allowed, she’s not supposed to describe herself as feeling anything stronger than that.
“Are you really asking me for emotional support? What, do you want comfort.”
Her voice rips from her throat, “Am I doing it wrong?”
A beat of silence, curiosity wins out, after all, with this much negativity, he might as well get a good meal out of whatever this one is on about. “Explain.”
She takes a deep breath. The tears, the shaking, they’re already building up and she does all she can to control herself and the ball of stress sitting in her chest that’s ready to snap like a rubber band. She needs to at least last long enough to ask her question properly. “Being upset, being not okay. When everyone else is upset, they shutdown, they get quiet, or yell, or cry, and they get comfort. They get understanding and people wanting to help them and worrying over them. When I-,“ her voice breaks before she collects herself again, a humourless chuckle fights its way out. She bites the rest of it back, “when I’m not okay I get shaky, I laugh and shake and smile and talk too much and too fast, saying stupid things I wish I wouldn’t say and I get laughed at. I get looked at like entertainment.” the image of Cash and his amused look by the pool flashes in her mind, “It’s suffocating, like I’m banging on a glass wall and no one can hear me, they just laugh at my funny faces.” It’s hard to tell where the disdain in her voice is directed. Them for not understanding, herself for not being understandable to them?
Roth takes a deep breath, tears trailing, fighting so hard not to go into her panic state, she needs to be taken seriously right now, she can’t make herself into a joke. Again “Is it my fault? I’m not upset in a way they can understand so I just deserve to be laughed at? Am I doing it wrong?”
She can’t see his face through the fog, only hear his deep voice practically shake the ground as he chuckles, as it surrounds her or maybe it’s his odd black limbs weaving through the earth again. He continues to laugh as he decides on the best thing to say to drag out this meal of negativity before him. Despite the coldness leeching through her limbs, waiting for his answer, she really does feel a bit better. It’s nice to be able to say all this, to vent in some way. And really, who better to ask, to go to for this than the self-proclaimed king of negativity? At least with him, in this fog, she didn’t have to face that look everyone else gave her. Looking at her like some oddity, something not quite right and funny to see react under stress. Meant to be set aside when it’s no longer entertaining. It’s cold but for the first time in a long time, that tangled ball in her chest is quiet.
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knocking at the door
past! agent jack “whiskey” daniels x f! reader, ft. Steven Grant (implied Marc and Jake) x f! reader
summary: you didn’t expect your ex-boyfriend and former partner to turn up on your doorstep at 3 am.
notes: not a poly-fic, ANGST with a little fluff, canon-divergent from kingsmen: the golden circle, depictions of DID are limited to what is portrayed in moon knight, pov switching and jumps from past to present, extremely unedited
word count: 1.6k
You aren’t sure how long someone has been knocking at your door, but from the increasing volume and decreasing wait times between each hit, you guess that it’s been a while. You groan, rolling over and sitting up, careful to not wake Steven, who’s out cold next to you. Sliding into your slippers, you shuffle to the door and peer through the peephole, the sight you’re greeted with enough to have you wide awake and wrenching the door open.
A myriad of emotions rip through you — shock, anger, sadness — but mostly, you’re concerned about your ex-partner/ex-boyfriend bleeding out. You don’t say a word as you crouch down, steadying yourself and sliding an arm under his left one, wrapping it around him. “Think you can help me get you up right, cowboy?” you ask, the nickname all too familiar on your tongue.
He gives you a languid nod, getting his feet underneath him and tentatively standing. The two of you make the painstaking journey to the bathroom and you shut the door. You reach into the cabinet under the sink, pulling out your industrial first-aid kit. You invested in it after joining Kingsmen and started restocking it much more frequently after finding out about your boys’ secret life as Moon Knight.
Jack eyes it, glancing up at you with a raised eyebrow. You ignore his questioning look, instead asking him quietly, “Can you get your jacket and shirt off by yourself?”
“Already trying to undress me, sugar plum?” You give him a look and he grimaces, looking away. He shrugs off his blazer and starts unbuttoning his dress shirt as you pour some antiseptic on a sterile cotton pad. When he’s shirtless, you swipe the pad gently across the wound, earning hisses and curses through gritted teeth and a clenched jaw. The movements feel foreign with him; you never really had to do this with him — Statesmen took care of medical assistance with fancy equipment and state-of-the-art technology you carried on missions.
You finish cleaning the wound, starting to unravel a roll of bandages when Jack asks, “How’ve you been?”
You can’t help but glare at him. Is he fucking serious right now? What are you supposed to say: I’ve been good — took a while to recover after you broke my heart and transferred to our British counterpart to get away from you. I never wanted to see you again but here you are, waltzing into my life all over again and just when I’ve gotten myself together. How have you been?
You wind the bandage around his body, leaning over him to move it across his back. He still wears the same cologne, the one you turned him onto. You stumble a little and, instinctually, he places a steady hand on your lower back. You bite down on the inside of your cheek.
He’s watching you with those brown, puppy-dog eyes, half-remorseful, half-wistful, and all softness and awe. You swallow the lump in your throat. “I’m fine,” you finally say.
Jack didn’t expect an ambush upon his arrival to London, but he should have known that the car he climbed into wasn’t Kingsmen-issued. He’ll be the first to admit that he should have been much, much more cautious but his mind was preoccupied.
The moment Champ said they’d need a senior agent to go to England on request for help from Kingsmen, Jack jumped at the chance. Champ gave him a stern look and said, “You better not be goin’ there to turn Sangria’s head around, Whiskey.”
He wasn’t going to, he really wasn’t. He’d confused you enough, hurt you enough. He just… he just wanted to see you, in person. He missed you more than you could ever know, more than he’d ever let himself tell you. He told himself that he was just going to catch a glimpse of you, to maybe say hello, and if he was lucky, you’d let him bask in your warmth and kindness again. If only just for a little.
That all went to shit the minute the car driver pulled a knife on him.
Jack had looked up where you lived, so as soon as he’d disposed of the driver, he painstakingly steered the car to your apartment and climbed the three flights, winding up on your welcome mat. He mustered up the strength to pound on the door and eventually, in a flood of dim light like some angel, you opened up.
Now, here he is, sitting on the cover of your toilet, letting you patch him up. You’re still as beautiful as he remembers, somehow even moreso. You still manage to make him weak in the knees, after all this time.
His already-broken heart cracks a little more at the reproachful way you’re gazing at him. He realizes that his hand is still on your back and he withdraws it quickly. You move away just as swiftly, choosing to lean against your sink with your arms crossed. You don’t look at him, you’re actually looking everywhere else but him.
He wants to kiss you. He wants to hold you so badly that it makes his chest tighten painfully. He wishes he can tell you how much he’s missed you, how work isn’t the same. How he years for those Saturday mornings dancing in the kitchen and the lazy Sundays in bed. He’s aching to tell you that he loves you, that he never stopped despite what he told you that fateful day.
He wants to kiss you and hold you and tell you he loves you, but he knows those days are long gone.
He had been so happy with you. The happiest he’d been in a while. But he couldn’t shake the sinking feeling, that awful feeling that it would be ripped from him and he’d be left in shambles like he had been before. He was scared, so, so scared something would happen to you and Jack didn’t know if he could take that. He’d told himself, when you went on your first date, that it would be left at that. He’d tell you he had a great time but that it just wasn’t meant to be, but he wound up in your bed and head-over-heels for you.
He loved you so much.
He was so scared.
So he broke your heart, told you that he didn’t love you anymore, that you weren’t right for each other. Your tearful eyes still haunted him when he closed his eyes at night. You looked at him with such anger and betrayal that day as if you thought it was easy for him. He knew that’s what you thought, especially given his reputation, but the notion made him scoff. How could anyone think it was easy when his heart was shattering with each barbed lie he spewed, watching as each wedged itself into your own heart and tore it apart.
He drinks in your profile: the curve of your mouth, slope of your nose. You’ve uncrossed your arms, resting your weight on your hands, which grip the edge of the counter. He wants to take it in his own hand and press a delicate kiss to the knuckle.
There’s a knock on the door and an accented voice calls from the other side, “Love, are you okay? Did the dinner not agree with you?”
Jack notices the small smile that pulls on your lips immediately and finally tears his eyes away from you and looks around your bathroom. His eyes land on a framed photo — you and a handsome man in front of Big Ben, snow falling around you. You’re glowing, beaming in the photo, a stark contrast to the you Jack’s looking at now.
You sigh and open the door, letting the man (Jack know this has to be your new boyfriend) see the whole scene. He looks perplexed, understandably so, and asks, “Who’s this?”
“My old partner from Statesmen,” you reply, and Jack’s eyes dart panickedly to yours but you shake your head. “He knows about everything, Whiskey.”
Whiskey. The name cuts into him like a shard of glass. Jack watches you as you quickly explain to your boyfriend what happened and he nods along.
“Well,” your boyfriend finally says, “suppose we can’t let him leave like this, can we?”
“You can take the couch,” you tell Jack softly. Then, you remember something and say, “Steven, Whiskey. Whiskey, Steven.”
Ah. So that’s his name. Steven.
So the night goes like this: Steven leaves to make up the couch, you help Jack into the living room and onto the couch, bid him a good night, and walk back to your bedroom with Steven. Jack watches as Steven wraps around your shoulder and you wrap yours around his waist. He leans in to tell you something and it makes you laugh and Jack’s heart clenches.
He misses making you laugh.
As you climb in next to him, Steven says, “So, that’s your ex-partner?”
“Yeah.”
“Need us to take him out?” Steven asks. All of them know what he did to you, how much he hurt you. From the full-length mirror across the room, Marc rolls his shoulders and in the reflection of the window, Jake suggests that kill him while he sleeps.
You shake your head. “No, it’s all in the past now.”
Marc remarks from the mirror that it didn’t look that way. Jake agrees that the way your ex-partner/ex-boyfriend looks at you is far too similar to the way all of them look at you.
Steven pauses and then says, “He’s a good-looking guy.”
You shrug. “Yeah, but you’re handsomer.”
“That’s not a word,” Steven replies but he can’t help but smile when you lean over and kiss him.
“It is now,” you say. Then, you let out a big yawn and Steven pecks your forehead as he leans over and turns your bedside lamp off.
#jack whiskey daniels x reader#jack daniels x reader#agent whiskey x reader#steven grant x reader#moon knight x reader#kingsmen golden circle#kingsmen#moon knight#marvel
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38. The Lotus
RE8 | Wintersberg | Romance, Slow Burn | Action, Sci-Fi
Link to Master List
Ethan felt rather stupid sitting in bed, journal in his lap, wondering how to get back to wherever Eveline was. He assumed he needed to be in a state similar to sleep; something like a meditation would allow him to move through the layers of the realms of consciousness. How had he done it before?
His eyes closed and he inhaled, feeling as though he were sinking into darkness. Eveline. Where was Eveline? For too long, it was quiet. He could sense, not see, moving shadows around him. Voices. He simply kept his focus on her, kept mentally calling her name. Finally, a door. Ethan opened it without hesitation, but then cringed when he realized where he was.
Donna Beneviento’s home.
He crossed the threshold, heart beating even more rapidly than it had in the Bakers’ home. “Eveline?”
He didn’t know why he was here, and he hoped against hope it had nothing to do with Donna. But there was her portrait on the wall, staring impassively at him. The chill was even worse the second time around. As Ethan moved toward the sitting room, he ventured, “I am not going in the fucking basement, at all , so if you’re here--”
He heard something, someone, stir from the second floor. Ethan sensed that the person moving was hurt--wounded? With urgency rather than trepidation he ascended the stairs and blinked against the very blurry, strangely buttery surroundings. What was it about Donna’s home that distorted reality even more than it already was, here in these mold places?
Pain, trauma . The voices answered his silent question. Fragility of mind.
If he focused, he could sense it the way he sensed Heisenberg’s emotions. This place was full of death, sadness, insanity. Loneliness. But no bitterness. A twisted, learned, cruelty. But..naivety. So much fear. Fear of who? From what?
That one, he didn’t need an answer for. He already knew. Fuck Miranda.
Ethan entered a bedroom he’d never seen. A child’s room, he realized, noticing all of the painstakingly detailed lace blankets and canopies that enveloped the bed and window seat, as well as the writing desk. He looked blearily around, willing his vision to clear, and there was Eveline.
She was on the floor, wearing the familiar navy dress and black boots, but now her hair and body were whiter than snow. She looked frail and was crumpled away from him. Ethan strode over and without hesitation, sat by the girl. He blinked more as he pulled her from the hardwood, turning her over and pulling her into his lap. She still looked like a child, she hadn’t aged, but something was happening to her.
“Eveline?”
“Your hit got me,” she said with a smile and a hiss, and he balked. Before Ethan could even process this, she shook her head. “It’s okay, it’s my fault too. I’m not fighting it. I probably could.”
“Why are we here?” Ethan asked, glancing around the toy-filled room.
“I don’t know,” Eveline admitted, her eyes closing. Her skin was glittering, almost. Was she crystallizing? Ethan had read the report on Zoe, and was instantly reminded of those photos. What did that mean? “I guess I…thought I’d get along with her a lot. I like it here.” She laughed, a bitter laugh that didn’t sound like a child’s.
Now Ethan cradled her and shrugged, pursing his lips. “Yeah, actually…you probably would.” He didn’t want to say anything more insulting about how they were two nuts from the same insanity tree, spinning webs of horror that no human should be capable of creating. He had almost anticipated another fight, anticipated the girl to change her mind about giving up her power. But she curled into him, and he realized he could feel her…changing.
It was as though she were slowing down. Her energy was shifting. Not going away, he acknowledged mostly to himself. Changing. Into something different.
Karl’s soft voice echoed in his mind. You just…moved ‘em. They were in one place. One form. They changed form….with energy….you moved ‘em to another.
“So this is it, huh,” Ethan said, trying to muster any tone that wasn’t hollow with death. He’d wanted Eveline dead for so long that it seemed silly now to revel with joy. He could only feel tired from the waste of it all. So many wasted lives. Hers. The Bakers. Mias. All of those lost souls who wandered inside. Himself, even. Forever changed forms.
“I made you, I chose you, you know that?” she said hoarsely, and now Ethan realized she was actually leaning into him for comfort. He scooted closer, bringing her up into a more supported, cradled position. Just as he felt awkward about it, she noted, “Nobody’s ever held me before.”
“First time for everything,” he said solemnly. “What do you mean, chose me?”
Her eyes opened as if it took great energy to do so, and she looked at Ethan almost in admiration. “I can pick what happens to people. Heal them, or make them…different. I can even make some things out of nothing. To protect me. You, I healed. I wanted to keep you the way you were.”
Ethan snorted. “Because I was just a delight to be around?”
“I dunno,” she said, her pitch rising, betraying a strange innocence that she rarely displayed. “I liked how strong you were. Jack too. I wanted a strong Dad. Like in the few books I got to read. I always wished I could read books.”
Ethan put his chin on her head. She was getting colder, he could feel it for certain now. Stiffer, too. Had his arrival sped up the process? Maybe she had been waiting for him. He wanted to say something hopeful, and heard from his own voice, “Maybe when this is all over, when Miranda’s gone, you can come back, and read some.”
“That would be nice.”
After a moment of silence, in which Ethan tried not to get motion sick from the swimming shimmer of the room, Eveline opened her eyes again, as if forcing herself to not fall asleep. “Are you gonna know what to do this time, and not almost die like a dummy like you almost did last time?”
He snorted. “Don’t worry, I’ve been doing my homework.”
Appeased, she nodded and closed her eyes. “That’s one thing I never wanted to do.”
She giggled, and he smiled a half-smile until Eveline began to crack--he could see long fissures forming in her skin. The same golden sparks swam beneath them. Ethan’s eyes tracked down to her legs, where more cracks were appearing. When she spoke again, her voice was hollow, faraway. She clung to Ethan, her small hands wrapped into the fabric of his shirt as though she feared being ripped away from him.
“What else can we do when Miranda’s gone and I come back?”
He felt trapped; how could he lie, but how could he tell the truth and say he didn’t know if she’d ever exist in any humanlike form again? Ethan’s mouth moved in silence for a moment, but he found his voice. “Uh. We…have a library. You can read books. Maybe do art. We can go to town, get ice cream. Ever had an ice cream cone?”
“Never.”
“We’ll get you two, one for each hand. You can play in the garden, in the sun.”
When she sighed, the sound continued issuing, and Ethan held his hands out; her body slowly cracked into pieces, the golden sparks forming something of a ball in the center of her chest. Soon her body disintegrated, nothing but white dust cascading around him, and Ethan braced himself. Time to pull backward.
And he was sitting in his bed, his arms open. At first he panicked, wondering what he’d done wrong, but then, just like in the journal entries, he felt the warm energy transferring. It had followed him back. He only had to focus, to pull it into this realm. The essence of Eveline’s being, every word he’d ever heard her say, every cruel laugh and tantrum and wind tunnel of hate filled his mind, and Ethan sent those into the space where he’d held her, between his hands.
Now Ethan’s palms turned over and the heated air hissed, crackled. A crystal was forming on its own accord, just like before. Unlike the Bakers’ souls, or whatever they were--this crystal on his palms formed in the shape of a large lotus flower. It made strange sizzling, snapping noises as it jutted up and out, the petal shapes becoming wrapped in long, vine-like crystals that glittered in the darkness of the room.
Ethan felt the immense energy of this crystal without even fully understanding it, and he finally turned it in his hands, inspecting it. Parts of it had purplish and blue tints. But the middle was so white that it almost luminesced in the room. A pale hand reached out and touched it, and Ethan looked from the hand to the body--Eva, almost-human, looked back at him in shock.
“Incredible,” she said in a whisper.
“Suits her, somehow,” Ethan echoed, and he carefully stood with the heavy object in his hands. Eva withdrew almost reluctantly and disappeared from his view. Now he walked over to the locked trunk in the closet where he kept the other crystals, including the small ones Rose had made.
Before he placed the crystal flower in the trunk, Ethan gave it another gentle squeeze, almost like an embrace. “I’m sorry you were never held,” he admitted in a low tone, and placed the object on the blanket inside. The blond finished locking the trunk and turned with a sigh back toward his bed. Now he was fully exhausted, but excited. Eva’s notes had shown Miranda had very clear intentions of using Eveline’s power, and they had prevented that.
But it was still sad, and he was still tired. Ethan paused when the windows rattled from--thunder? No. A sound. A lightning strike, but then…a howl?
Eva’s voice hissed from the speaker. “Ethan, there is something outside!”
He bolted toward his boots and tripped into them, craning his neck to see past Rose and out the window. “Something like what?” he asked, reaching into the closet for his weapons.
“It’s the work of Mother, I just know it,” she said in a venomous tone, just as another howl pierced the roar of the thunderstorm. Ethan heard Rosemary’s cry, and he scooped her up while shouldering both the rifle and shotgun.
“Karl was right,” he said breathlessly, backing away from the windows just as he heard loud footsteps overhead. “Guess we pissed her off by finding Eveline first.”
“She will know Heisenberg is gone as well,” Eva reminded him. “Stay safe! I will help if I can!”
He was already in the hall, echoing the direction of the footsteps upstairs. A tangle of people met him at the stairwell, and he passed Rosemary to Alina. The women spoke rapidly in their own language as Ethan realized he was relieved at his own habit of locking everything up before sunset.
Ethan nodded at Maricara’s two sons, who had already been warned earlier that day, and who both held shotguns. “You stay here, watch the house. I’m going out.”
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Standing on the stove
Missing you so very much it hurts.
I don't want to be too clingy.
Thinking of ways to distract myself.
Trying to remember how you supported me in that week when you didn't need to.
I'll do everything I can to make space for us to meet like that again.
I just need to work through my own loneliness, be patient, not annoy, give you space - don't I?
Flashes of my childhood pass me by
Being fingered ecstatically into my first orgasm
Being filled with childish joy and overwhelm
Not grasping the moment
Exasperated
And later
Having waited for repetition.
For safety to return
Having tried to follow all rules and be a good kid.
Helping him in his burning need.
Surrendering and Vanishing.
But that joy has never returned.
Only vague hopes that he didn't think needed to be fulfilled long before replacing them with the rough pain of his unmet needs and endless devouring desire.
Blinding, paralyzing pain with which I had to pay
for the joy
(that I did not ask for,
or did I?)
I strained my patience and hope until the pain havocked my body and soul.
I still don't remember how I managed to let him go without him taking my life.
Maybe it was just childish belief he would follow through on a big threat, when he couldn't keep a simple promise.
I still wonder how I suvived.
Life passing before my eyes.
Unresolved pain.
Conflict.
Guilt.
Lonelines.
Everlasting excrutiating, strangling, heart-twisting torment.
I wish I would pass out or away.
No amount of crying will relieve this from me.
I need contact.
Wishing to be noticed in my pain
cowering on the floor, giving in to emotion, succumbing to pain and hoping to be met in it. I've never had that happen in time.
To the outside I'm either hysterical or frozen and stuck within myself.
I slowly return to the present.
Missing you still, but unsure, if I should protect myself this time.
They say love is worth being vulnerable for.
But they also warn you to not be stupid and fall for the same trap again.
Only that it is not the same.
Is it?
I cannot tell and it confuses me.
How do I know?
For how long do I wait, what is my part in this?
Being your supporter while also learning from gruesome life lessons.
How will I ever be healthy? How can I get to a healthier state in the first place?
Am I repeating my patterns or do I see them where they are not?
How can I stay clear sighted?
Neptune is turning me nebulous and fuzzy again
There my flatmate enters the room, meeting me with an innocent smile - g(r)o(w)ing through grief himself and being all too familiar with having to work through his own pain
He's so vulnerable and no person I would have hoped to accompany me through this
And yet I am so very grateful that he does!
I ask about his day and he answers me still smiling.
Unwilling to be devoured to his own pain.
So unlike me.
Drying my tears we talk about things within his realm that he understands and feel safe for him (or maybe it is me that understands that much less in the grand scheme of things)
My food is inedible.
I start getting the chocolate cookies
Sharing them between wounded souls.
Singing a song in a language we both don't understand.
Sharing a hopeful smile until we withdraw into our own worlds again.
There you are texting me.
I'm glad for the cookies and the song to have soothed my soul in between.
I'll keep myself open for you.
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Hard Drive, Hard Times. (cut down)
I just scanned through my hard drive, scanning through old text documents in search of some inspiration for another little blurb in my collection of words.
I found one. Read through the lyrics, all standard 19 year old angsty stuff. It was familiar, but oddly distant. I read on. They started making more sense, the clarity came back. My mental images began to flash again, they haven’t done this since I trained them not to. I was ok. Then i began to feel heated. I remember the PTSD. It’s been so long though... I finished reading, looked away from my laptop. Breathed in for a moment.
Was this really what it was like? The hundreds of times my own eyes caused me inescapable jail-cell grief? The mirage of memories that sabotage my emotional state and usurp it’s throne? I’ve gotten better at it. So much better. I have the choice now to not give in. But well, some memories, the forgotten ones, take a moment to wave bye to.
It made me remember what someone once did. An action they made, and the response I had. I had picture flashbacks, and honestly the images make me remember the way I felt in the moment I had it. And 19 wasn’t always the greatest time for feelings. In some ways yeah... in others...
It’s explainable, and I am grateful for that, but it’s not entirely understandable unless you’ve experienced it, or have enough empathy to kill a large horse. (that was sarcastic misdirection, but you still look confused, so just take a bite of whatever you’re eating, and crack on.)
What I’m wondering now...is: “Do my old habits outweigh my discipline today?”
“Do the years weigh on me, or is today lighter than last?”
“Do fires ebb and flow in brightnes, or a slow dim after their ignition apex?”
Too many questions on my brain. Time to let some go. There. A deep breath can be all it takes. And if I believed that years ago, then maybe the grief would have been a cousin, not my brother. Not my blood brother, from all those years ago. Yeah, it’s old propaganda at this point. If you’ve read any of my previous writings, you’ll know that this is the subject I frequent most, but you know what? GOOD. I know this well, because this is my FUCKING LIFE! THIS IW HOW I LIVE. AND DAMNIT, WHY SHOULD I NOT BE ABLE TO EXPRESS THE COSMOS UNFOLDING BEFORE MY EYES IF YOU SHOULD GET THAT SAME CHANCE? AND WHY WAS SHE NOT THERE? AND WHY DID MY FUTURE GET NUKED BY MENTAL DISEASE? AND CAN I STILL BE GREAT, OR WILL I SETTLE AND CALL IT THE SAME? Who knows. Stories are stories, not reality.
Here’s what I know.
Brick walls remain standing if you put the bricks in the right place.
I’ve certainly fucked up a couple of mortar mouldings along the way, but I’ve got a trowel, and some time before the sun goes down again. I don’t know about tomorrow, but I know I’ve got a minute. And where’s there’s a minute, there’s a breath, and in a breath comes a moment, and in a moment comes a chance, and in a chance comes faith, and inside of faith comes miracles.
Watch my resolute mortar skills build a house for my aching age. My morose memories, and fallible fictions. The time’s are gone. My tires are getting thinner and thinner, but these bones know how to work, and work hard. Just a minute or so left now. But that sun can’t pierce through clay. If only it knew.
After it’s done. I’ll put this hard drive inside of the computer inside of the brick house. Seal off all the windows and doors. The cracks and slits. The roof and floor will be tight and sealed. The sun will not be inside. The shadows will echo against the cold wonderment. It will be space without stars. Just a hard drive. With memories inside. As my own skeleton evaporates by the grace of that sun. Just the legacy of a Red House left. Nothing but lovely words.
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she’s insignificant
chapter 3: the dangers inside
the umbrella academy x reader
disclaimer: i do not own the plot/storyline of the netflix tv series and i do not own the umbrella academy characters.
warnings: swearing, mentions of death
masterlist
y/n stared at the blue energy in the courtyard before deciding to join her siblings as they rushed to see what it was. as she ran down the stairs she caught sight of klaus holding a fire extinguisher.
"what are you doing?" she caught up with him.
"something" he shrugged, bursting out the door first. "out of the way!"
"thats not going to- klaus what the hell?" y/n went to stop him only to watch as he tried to extinguish the mass of energy. she shook her head in disbelief, stepping beside vanya.
klaus chucked the extinguisher when he realised it wouldn't work.
"what is that gonna do?" allison shouted over the loud noise. klaus threw his hands up.
"i don't know. do you have a better idea?" he stepped back in surprise as another flash came from the portal. luther pulled klaus back.
"everyone get behind me!" and in true sibling rivalry diego nodded, shielding vanya and y/n.
"yeah, get behind us!"
they watched, brows furrowing at the familiar figure that dropped to the ground. as they stepped closer the vortex disappeared.
"is that-?" y/n looked up at vanya, peeking around diego to see.
there, in a too large sized suit, stood their missing brother. he pushed himself to his feet taking in their appearance.
"does anyone else see little number five is that just me?" klaus questioned as they walked closer. the said boy stared down at himself in confusion before looking back at them.
"shit" he cursed.
--------------------------------------------------
they all moved back into the kitchen, letting five do as he pleased while he explained what he needed to.
he placed a chopping board and knife on the table while the others stood at the other end. y/n stood off to the corner, not entirely comfortable with them after being accused of murder. "what's the date? the exact date"
five walked around, grabbing bread to make himself a sandwich. vanya answered, "the 24th"
"of what?" five pushed walking back over.
"march"
"good" he pulled out two pieces of bread, laying them on the chopping board.
"so, are we going to talk about what just happened?" luther raised an eyebrow, expectantly but five stayed silent. "its been 17 years!" luther stood, frustrated but five wasn't taking any of his bullshit.
"it's been a lot longer than that" the shorter boy walked towards him before blinking behind him to grab the marshmallows. luther sighed,
"i haven't missed that"
"where'd you go?" diego piped up, unfazed.
"the future" five sighed, "and it's shit by the way" he opened up the bag of marshmallows.
"called it!" klaus raised his finger.
"do you want one?" five looked up at y/n, referring to the sandwich, a soft gleam in his eyes. the others shared a look, of course he had only missed her. she gently shook her head with a small smile. "i should have listened to the old man" five walked to the fridge, pulling out a jar. "he knew. travelling through space is one thing, travelling through time is a toss of the dice"
he paused as he opened the peanut butter, looking up at them again before noticing klaus' attire. "nice dress"
"oh, danke" klaus twirled loose material around. allison rolled her eyes.
"how did you get back?"
"in the end i had to project my consciousness forward into a suspended quantum state version of myself that exists across every possible instance of time" he continued making his sandwich like he hadn't just shocked them.
"that makes no sense" diego scoffed,
"well, it would if you were smarter" five shrugged, ignoring the way diego stood up to fight him. luther held him back.
"did you put a decimal point in the wrong spot?" y/n asked, surprising the others. she crossed her arms, thinking "it was probably a miscalculation in your proof of the existence of a bound for the number of limit cycles of planar polynomial vector fields of fixed degree."
five paused, thinking it over before realising she was right. "it should have been 0.57" he mumbled.
"how long were you there?" luther changed the subject, obviously confused.
"45 years" five went back to his sandwich making. "give or take"
everyone sat back down in shock.
"so what are you saying? that you're 58?!" luther narrowed his eyes in disbelief. there was no way.
"no" five looked up, speaking through gritted teeth. "my consciousness is 58. apparently my body is now 16 again"
"how does that even work?" vanya croaked out, still shocked at the situation.
"delores kept saying the equations were off" five shrugged, stepping away and looking off into the distance as he took a bite of his sandwich. "bet she's laughing now"
"delores?" vanya asked. y/n froze, he had kept her? at the girl's movement, or lack thereof, allison looked over at her, raising her eyebrows.
y/n shook her head, waving it off.
five picked up the newspaper on the table, staring at the picture of their father.
"hm.. guess i missed the funeral"
"how'd you know about that?" luther questioned, defensive.
"what part of the future do you not understand?" five narrowed his eyes, slightly amused by his brothers incompetence. "heart failure, huh?"
"yeah-" diego started only to be cut off by luther.
"no" there was silence for a moment before a kitchen knife stabbed into the table beside luther's hand.
"if i had murderous intent, luther, you'd be the first on my list" y/n scoffed, walking out.
they all stared after her in shock.
"nice to see nothing's changed" five sighed before following her out.
"thats it?" allison asked, turning towards him as he walked. "thats all you have to say?"
"what else is there to say? circle of life" he called back.
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vanya walked up to five in the parlour where he stood staring at his painting.
"nice to know dad didn't forget me" five turned to her, "read your book by the way.. found it in the library that was still standing"
he started to walk around, noticing y/n sitting on the balcony above. she had her legs dangling through the bars, calmly reading a book. he turned back to vanya.
"thought it was pretty good, all things considered" he stared her down, "definitely ballsy, giving up the family secrets. sure that went over well"
"they hate me" vanya frowned,
"well there are worse things that can happen" five was obviously trying to cheer her up, in his own way.
"you mean like what happened to ben?" there was a pause, both thinking it over.
"was it bad?" five asked softly, he knew y/n was still listening. he heard the faint sound of a book shutting. he looked away as vanya nodded.
"y/n had a hard time dealing with it.. the worst of all of us. dad forbid her from going on missions after her reaction.."
"her reaction?" five turned back, eyebrows furrowing, this wasn't in vanya's book.
"she nearly tore our souls out.. she was devastated and couldn't control her emotions. dad said it helped her though, something about a new ability. he trained her alone from then, forcing her to find you" vanya shrugged, sighing, going silent.
"find me?" five pushed, "what do you mean find me?"
"she said she did.. did she not?" vanya looked surprised now.
"no, no she did.. just didn't stay long is all" five shook his head, frowning.
"yeah well, they stopped trying when she lied to dad"
"she lied?" five looked back up at where she was previously sitting but now she was gone, the only thing left behind was her book and a wisp of smoke.
--------------------------------------------------
"ben.. i'm- i'm scared" eight sat cross legged in front of his statue. "my powers are getting stronger and i'm scared to hurt the others. i wish you were still here" she refused to cry no matter how much she wanted to. she couldn't let the same thing happen.
"i'm scared ben. what if i can't control it? what if hurt somebody? you're not here to help me and i-.. it hurts sometimes. dad doesn't understand, he never did but it hurts to suppress my emotions like he wants me to. we try so hard and he still never thinks we're enough.." she paused, pulling her knees up to her chest. "what if i am weak? what if he's right?"
unbeknownst to her ben's ghost sat beside her. "you're not weak" he shook his head, moving to look at her face. "you'll never be weak, you're so strong. please keep being strong for me" he pleaded with her as she continued to blame herself. he hated this. he hated not being there for her. he just wanted her to be okay.
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y/n walked beside five, standing under his umbrella with him. they didn't speak as they walked back out into the courtyard. the siblings all stood in line with luther in front of them, carrying their dad's ashes.
"did something happen?" grace looked at them all, smiling despite the occasion. they all looked up at her.
"dad died.." allison answered, confused. "remember?"
"oh, yes of course" grace nodded, expression turning more somber.
"is mom okay?" allison asked, now worried about how grace was acting.
"yeah, yeah she's fine" diego quickly defended, "she just needs to rest, you know, recharge" allison looked incredulous but dropped it nonetheless.
pogo stepped forwards, looking up at luther. "whenever you're ready, dear boy"
luther breathed out, opening the lid and dropping the ashes in a pitiful pile. they all frowned.
"probably would have been better with some wind" luther griped,
"does anyone wish to speak?" pogo ignored it, looking at the rest of them. everyone stayed silent, looking away. "very well.. in all regards, sir reginald hargreeves made me what i am today, for that alone i shall forever be in his debt. he was my master and my friend and i shall miss him very much.." he paused, "he leaves behind a complicated legacy-"
"he was a monster" diego cut off, still staring down at the ashes. klaus laughed. "he was bad person and a worse father. the world's better off without him-"
"diego" allison scolded, glaring at him in surprise.
"my name is number two. you know why?" he looked over at her. "because our father couldn't be bothered to give us actual names, he had mom do it"
"would anyone like something to eat?" grace asked, smiling again, unaware of what was happening.
"no, its okay mom" vanya denied, albeit confused.
"oh, okay"
"look, you wanna pay your respects" diego stepped out in front of them, "go head, but at least be honest about the kind of man he was" he looked at pogo now.
"you should stop talking now" luther warned, anger growing. diego glared at him for a moment before fully turning to face him.
"you know, you of all people should be on my side here, number one"
"i am warning you-" diego ignored him,
"after everything he did to you" y/n sighed, crossing her arms to her chest, fighting wasn't going to fix any of them. klaus and five shared a look. "he had to ship you a million miles away"
"diego stop talking-" luther tried again. diego was definitely hitting a nerve. he jabbed a finger into luther's chest.
"that's how much he couldn't stand the sight of you!" luther grabbed his arm and swung at his head. diego ducked. they begun fighting while everyone else backed away.
"boys! stop this at once!" pogo attempted to stop them, moving back despite this.
klaus held an arm out to shield five and y/n. the former slapped it away. they continued to fight, diego egging him on and landing several punches. klaus began to chant while vanya yelled at them to stop.
"klaus" y/n warned, gaining both his and five's attention. her eyes were turning black, she was struggling.
"y/n? are you okay?" five hadn't been there, he didn't know what she would do if she lost control. pogo walked away, not wanting to stay. klaus nervously watched y/n while the others watched luther and diego fight.
"i don't have time for this" five sighed, beginning to walk away, leaving y/n with klaus under his small pink umbrella.
that was when it happened. y/n froze as they knocked ben's statue.
"aw" klaus complained while allison glared at them.
"and there goes ben's statue"
"klaus?" y/n's voice scared them all. she sounded weak. she gripped his jacket, tightly. "klaus"
"what's wrong?" he looked down at her, watching as she fought her emotions. her eyes were turning black but she kept fighting it.
diego pulled out his knife and vanya's shouting at him to stop made it harder for y/n to calm herself. he threw it at luther, cutting his arm.
"klaus" she called again and he held her arm unsure of what to do. "i-i can't.. i can't-" she let out a pained whine as her eyes darkened, she was letting go. suddenly diego and luther let out shouts of pain.
"what's going on?!" allison watched them, confused and distraught. vanya quickly left their mother's side, pulling y/n into her.
"its okay, you're okay" vanya whispered to her, trying to calm her. "it can be fixed, you're okay, just relax. try to relax" listening to vanya's heartbeat she slowly calmed down, the blackness of her eyes seeping away and diego and luther straightened, no longer in pain.
y/n stared at them in shock and guilt before shaking her head and running inside. she locked herself in her room again. she was truly a demon.
--------------------------------------------------
one by one the siblings left, y/n watched sadly as they all abandoned her again. she was always left alone, the family problems only got bigger when they got together. she sighed, maybe she was better off alone.
--------------------------------------------------
y/n looked up from her book as she heard frantic footsteps around the mansion. peeking out her door she noticed vanya slowing down in front of five's room.
"oh thank god" she disappeared through his doorway but y/n could still hear her voice. "i was worried sick about you"
five had talked to vanya? why hadn't he come to her?
"sorry i left without saying goodbye" five's voice answered softly. what had he been doing? y/n quietly left her room to hear better. she wanted to be apart of her brother's plans too. she didn't want to be left out anymore.
"no, i'm the one that should be sorry. i was dismissive and i guess i didn't know how to process what you were saying.." vanya paused, "i still can't to be honest"
"maybe you were right to be dismissive" five huffed, that didn't sound like him at all? what was he really doing? "maybe it wasn't real after all.. it felt real. but well, like you said the old man did say time travel could contaminate the mind"
well vanya referred him to a therapist y/n tried to sense the room. something else was going on. carefully using her power she felt another person.. klaus. when vanya walked out y/n quickly turned to smoke, gliding along the floor, past five who watched vanya leave. klaus pulled himself out of the closet.
"that's so touching, all that stuff about family and dad and time"
"will you shut up? she'll hear you" five warned him, walking back over.
"you're lying to vanya?" y/n appeared next to klaus, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow.
"it's nothing you should worry about" five dismissed before looking klaus over again. "i thought i told you to put on something professional"
"what? this my nicest outfit" klaus gestured to it. y/n snorted when five scoffed.
"we'll raid the old man's closet"
"whatever, as long as i get paid" klaus shrugged, beginning to walk behind five.
"when the job is done" they stopped just above the stairs.
"so, where are we going?" she followed along, smiling innocently at five who raised an eyebrow at her.
"not we, just klaus and i" five shook his head, shoving his hands in his pockets.
"five" she frowned,
"y/n" he mocked.
"just let me come, please don't leave me in the dark. i just want to help you" she pleaded, she had missed him.
he thought it over before sighing, "fine" he turned to walk again but klaus stopped him.
"but just so we're clear on the finer details" he waved his hand around, talking over the plan. "i just got to go into this place and pretend to be your dear old dad, correct?"
"yeah, something like that" five agreed, exasperated.
"what's our cover story?" klaus continued, ignoring five's look of annoyance.
"what? what are you talking about?" five shared a confused look with y/n who shrugged.
"i mean was i young when i had you, like 16.. like young and terribly misguided" five agreed just to get him to stop but he didn't. "your mother, that slut, whoever she was, we met at.. the disco and you can be his sister"
"i am his sister?" y/n raised an eyebrow, but klaus only smiled, clicking his fingers.
"okay, remember that. oh my god the sex was amazing"
y/n scoffed, walking away first, five following. "what a disturbing glimpse into that thing you call a brain"
"don't make me put you in time out" klaus waved a finger at him.
as they walked out the door onto the street y/n paused.
"what's wrong, baby sis?" klaus asked, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. "you're not backing out already?"
"no!" she quickly denied, looking up at him as she snapped out of her starstruck daze. "it's just.. i haven't left the house in 16 years.."
klaus and five shared a sorrowful look. what had happened to her?
tags: @rxses-and-reverie
#tua#the umbrella academy#tua x reader#the umbrella academy x reader#tua x sibling reader#the umbrella academy x sibling reader#five hargreeves#klaus hargreeves#allison hargreeves#diego hargreeves#vanya hargreeves#luther hargreeves#five hargreeves x reader#klaus hargreeves x reader#allison hargreeves x reader#diego hargreeves x reader#vanya hargreeves x reader#luther hargreeves x reader
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Camila Noceda and Flawed Parenting
A perspective by a flawed person with loving but extremely flawed parents
I’m genuinely baffled at some people’s hostile reaction towards Camila. Like… do any of you have flawless parents that always know the best solution instantly, make no mistakes and never get emotional?
My parents are great. They’re super supportive and I love them very, very much. Overall I think I got very lucky in the parents department.
But god, they are far from flawless. I still live at home, and despite all the good, there’s moments when I can’t take my dad anymore. He’s the kind of dad that stayed up until two am to help me with homework when I was in school, and he does so, so many things to make sure I’m happy. I know that. But despite all of this, I have told my mom in emotional moments before that I’m not sure if I can keep living with him, because for all his good sides, he has a couple of fatal flaws that sometimes make him unbearable.
My mom listens to me and is very open to being educated on certain topics, but she has her flaws, too. She hates when I fight with my dad, and gets so torn up about it that I’ve once apologized to my dad out of fear of her getting into a car crash otherwise. She’s very vocal about certain flaws of mine, and sometimes uses the things she does for me as leverage against me when she gets very emotional.
And both of my parents pay a lot more attention to my brother because he needs it more, because he’s more of a “problem child” while I “seem so capable” even when I’m not.
And guess what? I’m not a perfect child. I make mistakes sometimes, some of them pretty severe. Just like Luz, I’m the kind of person that struggles to communicate certain issues of mine to her parents. I’m stubborn, and when I get emotional, I say very hurtful things sometimes. So do they.
And this has nothing to do with my parents being horrible or abusive. They’re neither of those things.
The takeaway from this should not be that my entire family is made up of terrible people, but that we’re all flawed in our own ways, despite loving each other and trying our best. There’s things about my parents I wish I could change, and there are things about me that my parents wish they could change. And to an extent, that’s perfectly normal.
In our strengths and flaws and frustration with each other, we’re all human.
Specific, spoiler-y Camila and Luz things under the cut since this got very long.
We have no indication that Camila has a pattern of emotionally manipulating Luz. Her “emotional manipulation” as I’ve seen some people put it, is people for some reason thinking that the second you become an adult, you’re suddenly perfect and can no longer make mistakes, lest you’ll be dubbed horrible and abusive.
The whole concept is absurd to me. There is no perfect way to parent. There simply isn’t. Of course, there’s some genuinely abusive patterns that are horrible and inexcusable. But out of the parenting styles that aren’t, which one works depends on a number of factors, one of which absolutely includes that every child is different and has different needs. Camila is an amazing parent for Vee, giving the kid everything she’s ever longed for. She’s not an ideal parent for Luz. And that’s because Luz and Vee have fundamentally different needs.
Likewise, Luz is a pretty great child for Eda, but not a perfect fit for Camila. Luz relates to Eda a lot more than she relates to her mom, and that’s why the two of them have an easier time understanding each other. Both of these mother-child relationships exist, and one is not more doomed to fail than the other, but I think you’ll agree that the better you understand someone and where they’re coming from, the easier it is to communicate, pick up on certain signs, etc.
As mom and daughter, Camila and Luz are both flawed and have issues seeing the other’s perspective because of how different they are. And we should simultaneously acknowledge both of their roles in the issue and give both of them the space to learn and grow past those issues.
Luz struggles to communicate her problems. She doesn’t want to burden people in the demon realm, and it’s a given that this started out as not wanting to burden her mom. So she keeps quiet about her issues. Camila tries hard but can’t read her daughter’s mind, so there’s only so much she can do to understand and help the way Luz needs her to. Hell, Eda, who Luz is a lot more open with than her mom, struggles to help her, because Luz doesn’t tell her what’s wrong. I don’t see anyone calling Eda a terrible mom for that.
Camila tries her best, but she struggles to understand her daughter because of this, and because of how fundamentally different they are. She loves Luz’s creativity, we actively see her supporting it in the new episode—she keeps the weird stuff Luz made because she thinks Luz will regret throwing it away, and even plays along in what she assumes to be some elaborate role play because “she’s glad Luz kept her creativity even though it’s not made things easy for her at school”. But at the beginning of the show, said creativity got out of hand and people got hurt. Luz could’ve gotten hurt. So of course Camila had to interfere. I love Luz dearly, but she thought it was okay to bring snakes to school and set off fireworks inside a school building. Creativity is great. Doing reckless stuff that causes people to get hurt is not.
In sending Luz to camp, Camila tried to have someone else fix her issue because she didn’t know how to help Luz. That was a mistake, and a bad one at that, but she’s realizing that. She looks disheartened when Vee tries to throw out Luz’s stuff, because she never meant to change her daughter or take that part of her away. She just thought Luz needed a reality check—which, for the record, is something the narrative actually agrees with.
Luz spends her time in the demon realm getting reality check after reality check, realizing that even her ideal fantasy world where she has everything she always wanted doesn’t mean she’s free of consequences. She goes overboard constantly, causing:
-Eda to be forced to fly into a trap because Luz is chasing a fantasy (Witches before Wizards)
-Eda to almost be branded by her sister because Luz doesn’t think through why Eda doesn’t use magic to publicly announce her presence constantly (Once Upon a Swap)
-Eda and the twins to get kidnapped by a Slitherbeast because Luz stole Amity’s wand (Adventures in the Elements)
-Her friends to get hurt when she goes overboard trying to help Willow (Wing it like Witches)
-Eda to be captured and almost petrified because Luz thought she could just steal from the Emperor with no consequences in an attempt to help (Agony of a Witch)
I’m like 90% sure these aren’t even all. None of those make her a terrible person, for the record, but as all humans are, she is flawed and makes bad choices. She learns from these experiences and matures, just like her mom had hoped she would at camp. She’s also made friends there, which was another thing Camila wanted for her daughter.
You’ll probably realize that a lot of Luz’s behaviors I mentioned follow one of two patterns: 1. Luz’s idealized fantasy world causing problems, when she walks around with rose tinted glasses and gets people in trouble in the process because she hasn’t thought about the consequences, and 2. Luz trying to help someone she loves, but instead making things worse in the progress. The issue with this one is often that she doesn’t communicate her ideas/listen to the people she’s trying to help—like when Willow and Gus said they’ve had enough of Grudgby, or how she never actually talks to Eda about the healing hat idea before doing something reckless.
…does the latter one sound familiar to you at all? No? Because it’s the exact same thing that Camila did.
Some of the things Luz does are reckless and actively endanger others and herself, and that’s something that I think we need to acknowledge before judging Camila. As Luz’s mom, it’s Camila’s job to interfere in those situations. That she made a mistake while trying to protect Luz doesn’t make her a terrible person, especially as, again, the narrative proves her right to an extent.
I’m not saying her making Luz promise to come back and stay isn’t something that hurt Luz—it absolutely is. But it was born out of desperation. She’s emotional and in shock. She’s so full of pain and regret. She just wants her fourteen year old daughter home safe, and there’s nothing abusive or even morally ambiguous about that.
From Luz’s perspective, what she says is absolutely heartbreaking, but from Camila’s, it’s perfectly reasonable. I doubt Camila has the full picture, but even if she does, she’s had a full fifteen seconds to process that her daughter has not only been lying to her for months, but chose to leave her, and is in the demon realm of all places. Of course she’d be emotional and upset about that! Who wouldn’t? Camila isn’t a robot. If she’d been calm about this I’d be way more concerned, honestly.
My parents don’t get mad that easily, but if I would lie to them for weeks on end, they’d be pissed off too, not even taking the running away from home part into account. That’s a normal thing. People don’t like being lied to. Camila is absolutely devastated in that moment because she’s scared that Luz left because she hates her, when Luz actively states that her leaving wasn’t about her mom—which is another thing we should really be acknowledging.
Abusive parents suck and abuse should obviously never be apologized or trivialized, but saying something hurtful in the heat of the moment isn’t the same thing as being an abusive parent. My parents have done this. I’ve done this. And yes, those things can be emotionally manipulative, but there’s a huge difference in whether that’s a habit or a person speaking out of hurt and desperation in a very specific context. I doubt there’s anyone on the entire planet that hasn’t had a bad moment where they’ve said something like this because they were hurting. People lash out when they hurt, and they beg for reassurance when they’re scared. That’s something we all do.
The whole mindset of “all parents have to be perfect and can never get upset or make any mistakes” is harmful as hell, and honestly also very unrealistic. No parent is perfect, and especially people like me who have a relationship with their parents that’s very good overall should know that.
Once you have a child, parenting is a non-stop learning process, every day for the rest of your life. Taking away that room to grow and expecting perfection isn’t helping anyone, especially not struggling single parents.
And I see Camila as someone who is very willing to learn, because at the end of the day, all she wants is for Luz to be happy. Let’s give her some time to wrap her head around this whole situation. Let’s see what she says once she sees for herself how happy Luz is in that world, may it be via the videos eventually coming through or Camila visiting and meeting Luz’s found family, her friends and her girlfriend.
Ultimately, I don’t think Camila will force Luz to stay at home, but we have to give her some time. She wants what’s best for Luz, and she’s gonna need some convincing that a dangerous magical world is what’s best. I feel like that’s very normal considering the circumstances.
Her and Luz need to work on their communication on both ends, they both have things to learn, but I’m certain they’ll manage to fix their relationship in the long run.
If the bunk bed is any indication, I think Vee is gonna stay in the human realm permanently while Luz sleeps at home but keeps attending Hexside in the daytime. That feels like a solution that keeps everyone happy, and allows Luz to spend time with all the people she loves. I can’t see her being forced to choose at the end.
As a closing statement: Eda isn’t an ideal mom, Amity isn’t an ideal friend or girlfriend and neither is Luz, Lilith isn’t an ideal sister… but that’s because no one is ever an ideal anything. Being flawed is a big part of being human. Everyone has different facets to their personality. Their flaws are what makes them such great, relatable, believable characters.
And I feel the same way about Camila. She’s an extremely believable character that reminds me of my own parents, flawed but very loving nonetheless.
(Also honestly, I think it’s pretty telling that some of you guys immediately bash the black single mom that’s obviously trying her hardest while giving the benefit of the doubt to Alador, who has been portrayed as neglecting and threatened his six year old daughter on screen. This was already a thing before we knew much about either of them, and I’m disappointed but unfortunately not very surprised that it still is.)
#the owl house#toh#lumity#luz noceda#Camila noceda#Camila the owl house#toh spoilers#owl house#Camila toh#toh meta#eda clawthorne#luz x amity#eleena rants#noceda family#yesterday’s lie#toh season two#the owl house season two#Vee Noceda#spoilers#owl house spoilers#the owl house spoilers#luz toh#luz the owl house#toh Camila#character flaws#long post#spoilers under cut#Personal
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Cheating!h blurb where ana asks why they dont have sex or at a party and she’s trying to pull him into a room and y/n watching him try to make excuses and then next time having sex with y/n he says anna keeps trying and she has the pride he doesnt give in... or something exploring that situation
warnings: smut, cheating, angst
“Anna, I just-“ Harry huffs as she tugs him into a spare bedroom of the party after he had put up a valiant fight to keep them in the main area.
Her hands are unbuttoning his already barely buttoned shirt, running down his bare skin, and he is cut off by a sloppy kiss to his mouth.
Fear shoots up through him, it’s not YN, he doesn’t want this with her.
“C’mon, it’s been almost six months and you still haven’t touched me. Just fuck me,” Anna complains, fed up with the lack of or more like nonexsistence of their sex life.
It was near impossible to believe, someone like Harry who oozed sex out of every pore of his body wasn’t sexually active or interested in fucking his girlfriend.
When Anna takes a different approach of going for his belt buckle, mouth trailing against his collarbone, and attempting to get to his groin - which hadn’t hardened in the slightest.
“Enough,” Harry states firmly, grasping her wrists lightly and making her look at him, “I don’t want to have sex right now, okay?”
His girlfriend’s face falters, “You never want to.”
“If you don’t like it break up with me,” He hisses, knowing YN is going to get suspicious the longer they’re in a room together.
Anna, who really did have a kind heart, frowns, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pressure you into anything. I would never force you to.”
Harry just rebuttons his shirt, “S’fine. Let’s just get back to the party and have a good time, yeah?”
She nods as Harry swings his arm around her shoulder, unlocking the door, and pausing when he sees YN a bit of the ways down the corridor - staring at the two leaving the bedroom.
“I’m going to get a drink,” He dismisses bluntly, his focus set on the girl who was visible angry with him in the kitchen.
Before he can get out a word, she steps forward and swipes her thumb against his collarbone.
It comes back with the waxy substance of Anna’s bright mauve lipstick.
“Have fun in there, did you?” YN asks, she tries to keep her tone cool and unbothered by Harry sees right through it to the insecurity.
“You know I didn’t,” He replies between gritted teeth, how could she get jealous when this was all her?
He didn’t want a girlfriend.
Well he did but he only want her and she fucking knew that.
“If you wanted me to believe you, maybe you would have wiped her lipstick marks from your neck and chest,” She chuckles and it makes Harry’s hair on the back of his neck stand up.
It was the distinct chuckle and tone she used when she was upset but wasn’t going to admit it over her dead body.
Before he can call her out, she shoulders past him, disappearing into the dancing crowd of people and out of his side.
“Fuck,” He mutters, running a hand through his hair before trudging off to find Niall and Zayn - to distract himself.
-
“Stay the night, please?” Anna asks softly when Harry pulls up to her small, quaint little house that fit her perfectly.
“M’sorry. I have a long day tomorrow.”
It was a lie. It was rarer that he told the truth to his girlfriend than fibbing.
“So? Let’s cuddle, do something,” She begs, frustrated with her emotionally and sometimes physically distant boyfriend.
Harry shakes his head, “Maybe next weekend.”
He always said that.
It never happened.
—
As soon as he drops off Anna, his next stop is a route that is ingrained in his head front and backwards, her apartment.
He has a key, doesn’t bother knocking and just barges into the dimly lit house with her shoes tossed clumsily on the floor - almost trips.
When he finds her, she’s in a towel - freshly showered, and brushing through her hair in her small walk-in closet.
She heard him come in, knew he was storming in here, and still didn’t turn around when he slammed open her bedroom door.
He’s crowding behind her, knocking the brush out of her hand, and pinning her to the wall, “You’re so bloody ridiculous. You jealous little brat.”
YN doesn’t respond, her body still wound tight with tension and a gluttonous feeling of rage for earlier in the night.
“Been fuckin’ you and only you since I was seventeen. Y’know that I didn’t fuck her, didn’t even touch her and you still have the nerve to act like a crybaby,” Harry seethes, his whole chest pressed against her back, no room to escape.
“Her lipstick was all over you,” She argues back weakly when his hands come to the knot in her towel, teasing at unraveling.
“Yeah because she was begging me to fuck her and I said ‘no’ so she tried to get in my pants and I pushed her off.”
“Why?” YN murmurs, quiet in the small space.
“You fuckin’ know why,” Harry growls with his teeth grazing across her bare shoulder blade.
“Say it.”
“I pushed her off ‘cause you’re the only person I’ve fucked since I was seventeen. My cock is yours,” He rasps, untying the knot and letting the towel drop.
He wishes she would just end all this bullshit.
Let him have her fully and completely but she was so fucking afraid of getting hurt when it wouldn’t happen.
“Go on, tell me who owns this cunt,” Harry demands, hand tucking between her thick thighs to cup her puffy mound in his hand.
“H,” She whimpers as his finger lightly slides up the wet groove of her center with a careful drag.
When she doesn’t give him the answer he wants, he gives her clit a hard pinch, “Don’t make me repeat myself.”
“Yours, fuck - it’s yours,” YN huffs at the slight but welcome pain on her nerves - relaxing when it returns to soft strokes.
“Anna is pretty, y’know? Had her on me, kissing my neck, unbuttoning my shirt and shit,” Harry hums against her ear, two fingers sinking into the tight heat of her body.
He continues, “Didn’t even get hard when that happened. That’s how fucking trained I am for you. What a tight fucking leash you have me on.”
YN turns a bit into putty at his words, insecurity slow flooding out of her body, and feeling more like how she usually does.
“How do y’ever forget? How much I love you?” He asks in true disbelief, it literally oozes through his pores how much he adores his high school sweetheart.
“Don’t-“ She squeaks desperately.
“Why won’t you let me tell you how much I love you, baby?”
His voice like dark, sweet honey that seeps into her every nerve-ending and makes her feel lethargic, in a boneless silky way.
“Stop plea- Just touch me,” YN begs when his fingers crook into against her plushy, tight walls with focused strokes.
“You need to admit it, y’stubborn little thing. I know how in love you are with me,” Harry pushes, needing to hear validation from his favorite person on this earth.
He squats down, spreading her cheeks, and leaning in to lick from the top of clit all the way back to her other entrance.
His large palms keeping her apart, digging into the thick skin until his fingers are white - tongue finding her core and darting in to her most sensitive area.
“H, oh my god,” YN moans, head falling forward against the wall, pushing her hips backward into his mouth.
“Darling, c’mon. Show me how sweet y’can be f’me,” Harry goads encouragingly, it always took a little bit of effort to get her to break.
“I love you….s’much,” She whispers, voice cracking on the last syllable as he rewards her with a suckling kiss to her clit and slips his fingers back in.
“I know y’do, baby. You know I’d never give it to anyone but you,” Harry coos, anything to get her to soften her harsh edges, chip away at her stone wall.
Her hand reaches behind to weave through his hair, her stomach sucking in harshly as she feels her tight band snap as she releases.
“O-oh, you’re mine. Y’mine,” His love chants as she rides out her intense wave of her orgasm as he helps her through it.
“M’yours,” Harry agrees immediately, standing up and a smile breaks on his face when she turns around and wraps him into a hug.
“I love you. I know you didn’t touch her. I just hate it,” YN murmurs softly, undoing his shirt and sliding it off of his shoulders.
His smile fades at her words, “Then make it stop. The minute you tell me you’re ready to make this work, I’ll break up with her.”
“I’m no-not ready,” She stammers, eyes widening like a deer in headlights at his words.
So afraid. So fucking scared.
“Okay, okay,” He soothes when he sees her chest start to rise faster and faster with anxiety.
He doesn’t want to drop it.
He wants to shake her and ask her how the fuck she doesn’t see that they’re already in a relationship and she’s being blinded by irrational fears.
Harry waddles them over to her messy bed, pushing her back and adjusting until she’s in the center - staring at him with doe eyes.
He loves her so much it hurts to look at her for too long.
When he tugs off his jeans, taking his phone out to put on the side table - he sees an unread text from Anna.
I’m sorry about earlier. I really want to make it work with you. You’re a great guy x
Harry should feel bad. Maybe his stomach should have dropped or something at how awful he’s being to that girl.
But when his love is splayed out, pliant and malleable for him, he can’t find an ounce of fucks to give as he tosses it on the bedside table.
He had been in love with this girl since he was sixteen, never fell out of it, he was addicted to her - willing to go through all this bullshit if it meant he had her.
It always felt like the first time, crawling on top of her, and bending down to pull her puffy lips into a strong kiss as he slides in, always a pleasant stretch.
As they move together, in a familiar rhythm, she murmurs against his lips, “One day, I’ll be ready.”
“Please, make it soon, darlin’,” Harry pleas, swallowing harshly before pushing his emotions into hard, deep thrusts.
#cheating!harry masterlist#cheating!harry#harry styles writing#harry styles imagine#harry styles one shot#harry styles x yn#harry styles x reader#harry styles x you#harry styles fluff#harry styles x y/n#harry styles fic rec#harry styles masterlist#harry styles#Harry styles smut#Harry styles angst#Harry styles au#cheating!Harry blurb#blurb
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Hold Me Close | JJK
Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader, ex Namjoon x Reader (ft. brother Jimin)
Genre/Tags: brother’s best friends au; (dash of) angst, fluff (sort of), smut
Warnings: foul language, feelings of insecurity, minor accident caused by inebriation, getting drunk, sexual content (oral, unprotected sex but be safe please!), JK has a hip tattoo and at some point has grey hair (18+)
Word count: 22k
Summary: When Jimin hits a crisis, he enlists the help of his older sister - you - and his best friend, Jungkook, to put the pieces back again. That proves to be difficult when 1) Jimin’s a brat and a certified pain in the ass, and 2) Jungkook has grown and suddenly, you can’t keep your eyes off him.
A/N: I wanted to write something fun for a change and saw @ladyartemesia‘s brother’s best friend list and thought it would be a nice trope to explore because if there would be an ideal bratty younger brother, it would be Jimin. This was sooo much fun to write but also reminded me again of why I love my baby sister more than anyone in this world. Hope you all enjoy!
##
Three - the number of missed calls you probably now have just in the last 5 minutes, the vibrations piercing through your pocket and onto your thigh. It might be important, but so is keeping your attention on the department Director to your right, who is complimenting the man to your left, over a proposal that you spent weeks working on.
You force a smile because in front of your entire department isn’t really the time and place to refute and complain. It doesn’t help that Chul accepts the credit because anything to get ahead, right?
Just another reason why you dislike this job. Perhaps your boss telling you that you’re too emotional or too soft to be in this industry has gotten to you, but then again, there’s not a bone in you that’s ambitious and competition-craved, unlike your parents. But you try, at least. It’s the least you can do for something that’s expected of their eldest child.
The Director flips a page and turns to you. “Glad you could contribute to this, Ms. Park.”
He did assign it to you but you suppose your name just flew off his head, but you remind him anyway.
“Thank you for the opportunity to work on it, Mr. Yoon. I’m truly learning a lot,” you fake a smile and wish for this to end.
Soon enough it does and you bow towards the managers present, one of them giving you the compliment you needed to hear, and excuse yourself before another call comes in.
Best brother ever, the screen announces, and you curse yourself for still not changing his contact name and for having an easy-enough password to guess.
“I swear to god, Jimin, this better be an emergency,” you cuss to the person on the other end, already boiling at the thought of him possibly calling to ask how to fix a broken toilet or what kind of oil he’s supposed to buy for frying because he’d done both too many times for you to count.
“___!” The sound of a relieved huff is what greets you, the voice familiar.
“Jungkook?”
“Yeah, hi,” he says. “Uh, we’re at the hospital.”
Your eyes widen and you scold yourself for missing the calls, but then again, you wouldn’t have known because Jimin’s wolf cries precede this moment of an actual emergency.
“What? Why! Is my brother okay?” You cry out, hands already working on collecting your files and feet rushing towards your desk to pack up.
“Yeah,” Jungkook affirms. “He’s fine. He just—“
“I AM NOT FINE!” You hear your brother shriek in the background, sound a little soft due to distance but you don’t miss the farcical tone of his statement.
“Dude, it’s just a sprained ankle. You’ll live,” Jungkook tells him calmly, away from the phone.
You sigh in relief because Jungkook is definitely the person to believe in times like this.
“From 1 to Jimin, how dramatic is he?” You ask.
“Jimin. Times two.”
“Damn, okay. That actually seems worse than the injury itself huh?”
Jungkook laughs in agreement.
“I’m just packing. I’ll go to you guys right after.”
“Alright. General Hospital, emergency room. Just follow the tone of the weeping man-child.”
“I feel so empty. What am I gonna do with my life now!” You hear in the background.
You laugh at your brother’s antics because you’ve heard that exact line not long ago after his building owner told him again that he can’t have a pet in the apartment. But who knows with Jimin this time around?
“Got it. See you in a bit,” you say, then head out to hail a cab.
**
You arrive in the emergency room and follow the sound of the weeping man-child and true enough, you see your baby brother lying on the bed with his right leg nestled on pillows, ice taped on the swollen ankle.
You rush to his side and assess if there’s any other part that’s being treated. “What the hell happened to you?” You worriedly ask. “Is this because of work? God, Jimin. I told you that company overworks you! You don’t even get enough rest.”
Behind you, you could hear muffled laughter, and paired with your brother’s sheepish smile, you could already tell he got it over something silly. He’s avoiding your gaze, causing your worry to turn to frustration.
You cross your arms and you give him a stern look. “Park Jimin, look at me and tell me what happened.”
He plays with the hem of the blanket draped over him and with a sickly sweet smile, the one he uses on you to get himself out of trouble, he says, “I may have drank and perhaps had my foot stuck in a gutter and I may also have moved about when Jungkook told me to stay still and well…” Arms laid out before him as if in presentation, “here I am!”
He’s beaming, as if it’s something to be proud of. You know it’s his tactic but still, your brother’s ability to go from one reaction to another astounds you.
You turn to Jungkook for confirmation and he nods at the accuracy and absurdity of the situation, causing a worried feeling in the pit of your stomach because how the hell are you going to explain this to your parents?
“You forgot the part about you screaming that you hate men and you don’t want to love anymore,” Jungkook adds. It’s classic Jimin that it actually makes you laugh.
You, as his older sister and Jungkook, as his best friend of 15 years, should be used to this already but your brother is plucked from a classic romcom as the hot mess character and that carries with it amusement and predictability.
You're about to ask for an elaboration to put more context in the scene that’s playing in your head of a crying Jimin flailing his arms and a bemused but laughing Jungkook trying to shut him up, when the doctor comes in.
She checks the clipboard then on Jimin.
“Thankfully, there’s nothing broken,” she says, jotting down on a pad. She starts instructing how to properly wrap the ankle, prompting Jungkook to stand next to you and Jimin to nip at his fingernails because the brat won’t even pay attention to how to care for his own injured foot.
After handing you the prescription, the doctor tells Jimin, “We’ll just wrap you up with a cast and give you the crutches then you can head home.”
“So I’m not staying?” He asks.
“No need,” the doctor clarifies. “It’s just sprained but it will take several weeks to properly heal and it will be sore for a while,” she states, then calls a nurse and instructs him to prepare the supplies.
“You said you’re a dance instructor? The injury was aggravated by previous mild sprains so I require complete rest. You absolutely cannot move. Just stay in bed and follow the instructions I’ve written down.”
You and Jungkook release a sigh of relief, thankful that it’s nothing serious, the concern over what prompted his outburst temporarily at the back of your mind, until Jimin speaks up.
“But, something else feels broken.”
“What is it?” The doctor asks, suddenly worried and checks the board for anything she might’ve missed.
“My heart.”
“Yah!” You smack Jimin’s arm in embarrassment, which he returns with a smack on yours, a common sight for you both and Jungkook who’s bared witness to the violence you and your brother inflicted upon each other growing up.
The doctor rolls her eyes. “She’ll come back,” she says, then heads towards the door.
Jimin scrunches his nose in annoyance. “She’s a he, by the way!” He shouts, causing the others present to turn to him, as if such a situation is scandalous.
“Do… you have a boyfriend I don’t know about?” You nervously ask.
While your 3-year gap sibling relationship is rooted in violence that’s caused bruises, buckets of tears, timeouts, and your parents almost giving up on making you two get along at many points of your lives, you and Jimin have somehow grown up and have found the right balance of telling each other important things while also staying out of each other’s business.
The “growing up” only happened midway through his college life, when he realized that even with his best friend next to him, you were still his lifeline in the big city of Seoul and the only other reminder of home.
Because even with him knowing what it takes to make it in the competitive entertainment industry as a choreographer, in his heart, he’s still the younger child who’s used to being taken care of. That meant regularly demanding your presence in his dorm when he was still studying and then crashing your place when he’d started working. For food, mostly. The ranting about things just came naturally after.
“It’s Tae,” he shyly reveals, meeting your eyes for the first time and suddenly, he’s your little brother again, the one whose snacks you used to prepare or whose wounds you used to treat when your parents weren’t home or were too tired from work.
“Your roommate?”
“Yeah. He left today because he got this photography gig where he gets to travel the world.”
“I didn’t know you had a thing,” you say.
“We didn’t,” he huffs out in frustration. “I didn’t know I liked him until he said he booked a one-way ticket and didn’t know when he'd be coming back. And he was so excited and I was really happy for him but also felt like it was too late. Like should I have said anything? What if he felt the same way? Would he have stayed?” He sighs, looking sullen this time.
“He may have, or he would still be taking the trip. Regardless, no one should be giving up on dreams for anybody, Chim. That’s not how it’s supposed to work,” you say, not meaning to sound as if you’re reprimanding him, but the look he gives is enough to tell you that he understands. He’s heard variations of that same sentiment before, anyway.
Jungkook feels the tension in the air and breaks it by stating that he’ll be driving everybody home.
“I’ll be staying with my sister,” Jimin announces, his annoying smile now back, and he knows you can’t say no; by obligation or by choice, you won’t tell.
“There goes my weekend,” you gripe.
“I won’t be a nuisance, I promise,” he says then crosses his heart, like it actually means anything.
“You’re a nuisance even when you’re not injured, what more now?”
“I’m not that bad,” he defends.
“Oh, but you are.” You turn to Jungkook. “You know, I actually tried to push him back in our mom’s vagina but even her uterus didn’t want him anymore.”
“Ouch okay, I will pretend I didn’t hear that,” and you all laugh as Jimin is transferred to the wheel chair and pushed by the nurse, signaling Jungkook to go ahead and retrieve his car.
**
You arrive at your apartment with a Jimin-clad Jungkook in tow, the worry of not having cleaned up quickly dissipating because this is your brother, and he shouldn’t complain.
Jungkook assists Jimin in the bathroom while you set up your bed by piling up pillows for his foot.
“I don’t have clean sheets for the sofa bed in the other room,” you say, “and it’s not cleaned up, as I didn’t expect to house an injured child this weekend. Just sleep on my bed first.”
Jungkook guides Jimin to your bed and helps him settle in, with your brother looking all smug with the treatment he’s getting because he knows you don’t give up your bed that easily.
“What about you?” Jungkook asks, seemingly more worried about your inconvenience than the actual cause of it.
“I’m fine with the couch. Wouldn’t wanna sleep here with him and accidentally hit his foot. He might murder me or something.”
“Thanks, Sis. I’m very comfortable here. I think I’ll be sleeping well tonight,” Jimin states, then yawns, drowsiness kicking in from the medication.
You roll your eyes and close the door. You lead Jungkook to your kitchen and offer him a drink.
“I’m sorry for him, Kook. Did he drag you out of work?” You ask.
“Just had to call the tattoo parlor and reschedule my Friday appointments,” he says, downing the glass of water. “He was pretty emotional over the phone and wanted to drink at 4PM and well, you know the rest.”
“Ugh, such a pain in the ass,” you mutter, massaging your temples. “But was he serious about the whole Tae thing?”
“Seemed like it. I think it just took an abrupt change for him to realize what he felt,” he explains. “But you know him - falls fast, moves on faster. He’ll be okay. You’re here,” he continues, flashing you his bunny smile, the one that used to cause you to pinch his puffy cheeks out of cuteness.
But that’s when he was a lanky 10-year old with his awkward front bangs. The man in front of you now sports long dark locks and a sharp jawline, tattooed arms and probably a built figure, if the way he carried your brother as if he’s a feather is any indication of his strength. His bambi eyes, usually scrunched large nose, and child-like smile are the only things that remain from that memory of him.
“You know I can’t stand my brother for long periods of time, Kook,” you pout, earning you an amused laugh.
“He actually already invited me over the weekend, asked me to bring my PS4 so we could play.”
“That bitch has to rest, what is he talking about?”
“Same thing I told him. I’ll just make up some reason that my player caught fire or that I dropped it while running or something.”
You give him a straight face. “The hell would he buy that? You can just not bring it.”
“I’m just gonna match his drama,” Jungkook shrugs, earning him your laugh, which for him is all tones of sweet and soothing.
A smile forms on his face at the thought of making you laugh like this, something he secretly enjoys. This particular sound would most likely be etched in his mind, among the several others that he caused.
There was that time when you caught him doing chubby bunny as a consequence and seeing him stuffed with marshmallows made you secretly giggle because 15-year old you didn’t want to indulge in their silly antics; Jungkook heard it though.
There was that other time during Jimin’s 14th birthday at an arcade, Jungkook went over the basketball game’s railing to get the highest score and you alternated between scolding him and laughing your butt off. He snuck the tickets he won in your pile though so you would have enough to get the Tinkerbell tea set because he knew your obsession with fairies.
When you visited home for their high school graduation, you all cooked dinner and he overdid the glazed sweet potatoes, causing them to get stuck on the plate. You tried to hold your laugh but gave up once he started dancing; he was so embarrassed but that’s when he knew he’d willingly make a fool of himself to hear you laugh like that.
And 3 years ago, your large group of friends went on a ski trip. He was attempting to run up the slope but kept sliding, and even from a distance, he could pick out which laughter was yours; it was probably the only remedy to an otherwise heartbreaking weekend, considering that you were there with your then-boyfriend, Namjoon.
Reminiscing those causes his heart to feel like floating, like always, then the words “nobody dates my sister” pulls that heart down to crash into reality, like always, too, the reality being that you’re his best friend’s older sibling.
You’ve been off-limits since Jimin threatened Jungkook and their other friends about cutting off their dicks if anybody tried to date you when they were 16, but you were probably off-limits even before that. Jungkook mentally shakes his head.
He doesn’t like being told what to do but then again, Jimin is his best friend, the tiny feisty 10-year old who fought off the bullies who tried to take Jungkook’s snacks. It had been them against the world since then, and so far, the only person he thinks who’d ever come between them is you.
Jungkook is pulled out of his thoughts at your call of his name, prompting you to repeat what you just said.
“I said, thanks again for being there for my brother like, ever since. If it was just me I would’ve disowned him a long time ago.”
Jungkook giggles, already used to the drama that is your sibling relationship. He’d witnessed too many wrestling matches, scream fests, and pulled pranks in the last 15 years. While you’ve both gone past those, your complaints about each other is something you haven’t really outgrown yet.
“Well, I’m glad you didn’t disown him,” Jungkook chuckles, the words ‘he’s the only link I have to you’ quickly dissipating in his mind.
“You know he just craves your attention and riling you up is the way he does it, younger sibling and all. I would’ve done that if my brother wasn’t 7 years older. Jimin tends to be immature around you but he’s the best person I know. I wouldn’t have survived anything if it weren’t for him.”
This brings a smile to your face, their origin story warming your heart more than you care to admit. Your brother is fierce and a fighter, you’d give him that.
“Well, he’s just as lucky to have you, Kook.”
It’s the tenderness in your voice that makes him feel like he’d just won a prize, and he wishes you don’t notice the flush of his cheeks. If you do, you don’t mention it, because not long after, you say that you’ll wash up, signaling him that it’s time to go.
Jungkook drives home that night feeling like his pre-adolescent self, the giddy feeling of when you first pinched his cheeks the same one he feels right now. It’s when he first developed his crush on you - you’d been arguing with Jimin and said you wished he was as behaved and as adorable as Jungkook, prompting your brother to point out Jungkook’s large nose, which you responded with by saying it adds to his charm.
Petty fights, like always, but it’s when you told him to not listen to what other people say if they’re out to put him down did Jungkook realize that you and Jimin were cut from the same cloth.
Soon after, every little moment with you, every glimpse of your life outside of being his best friend’s sister became more and more enthralling to him. The fact that you were getting prettier each year just served to solidify his affection for you. And also made it difficult to hide his hard-on every time you’d show up for breakfast in your cloth shorts when he’d sleep over your parents’ house, or when he’d see you in your pretty outfits in the bars you all frequented once he was in Seoul for college.
He’d let himself think of you during the times he wasn’t in a relationship, and he’d slowly let go of the bit of hope he’d have every time you were in one, partly because your relationships were usually long-term, compared to his, and also because your ex-boyfriends were nothing like him, which is safe to say that he wasn’t your type.
Maybe it was the age, the level of maturity, maybe it was the sense of security, maybe he’s just not the kind of guy who could give you what you want, although honestly he doesn’t know exactly what that is.
But if Namjoon - your intelligent, upstanding, businessman ex-boyfriend who was also really handsome and kind - and your subsequent heartbreak are anything to go by, then Jungkook is clearly reaching for the stars with you. Not that you’re out of his league, but he’s more like in the outskirts, just lying in the edges, the border between what’s possible and what isn’t, but definitely far from the center of action. Even tonight, the most time you’d spent together in years that wasn’t in a party, was because Jimin had been hurt.
If anything, though, his long standing admiration for you hadn’t really gone away. And he doesn’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.
**
The weekend with Jimin staying with you wasn’t that unbearable, primarily because he was rendered immobile on your bed and was usually sleepy. You were thankful that Jungkook dropped by to keep your brother company while you caught up on errands and chores.
With another work week coming filled with meetings and events, you had Jimin stay with Jungkook first. He insisted it wasn’t a bother; his work as a freelance artist and a part-time tattooist gives him control of his time.
It’s the weekend after the incident when you hear a knock on the door, not expecting to see Jimin with his casted ankle and crunches; behind him are 3 large luggages and a few boxes.
You’re just about to process the sight before you when he says, “I got sacked from the company when I said I couldn’t get back to work next week. And I can’t afford to pay rent anymore, even if I get a roommate and I…” he turns to you, almost shameful, “I have nowhere else to go.”
You sigh because really, your relationship with your brother is hinged on fights you don’t really mean, pettiness that drives you crazy, and an unconditional love that you both deny but undeniably share. So you open the door wider and laugh at his “you’re the best sister in the world” claim and your usual response of “you only have one.”
Jungkook arrives with the last box and you help bring in all the stuff that seems never-ending, making you wonder how these fit in his car and how he managed to bring everything, including your brother.
“Park Jimin, you have so much stuff! You might as well have hired a mover,” you cry out.
“Oh I did,” Jimin answers, pointing to Jungkook.
You cock an eyebrow because obviously, movers get paid.
“I told him you said you’re gonna make us dinner.”
“Except I didn’t,” you scrunch your eyebrows and turn to Jungkook, amused at his sudden change of expression, bambi eyes widening at his innocence.
“I swear, he seemed so convincing,” Jungkook claims, hands held up as if in surrender. He bites his lips and looks at the ground. “I can just go, really. I’ll just force him to treat me to lunch when he’s healed and I can wrestle him if he doesn’t.”
“Don’t be silly, Kook. Stay for dinner,” you crack a smile. You walk to your kitchen and take out the pork belly to thaw. “I won’t make you steak though. That’s reserved for my wine nights when I want to bask in my singleness,” you call out.
“Also,” you turn to Jimin, “you don’t deserve my steak.”
Your brother laughs, knowing that it’s your way to mask the kindness you’re showing.
Later that night, with dinner out of the way and your spare bedroom set up for Jimin to stay, you guide him to the sofa bed and make sure his foot is elevated, bell just within his reach that you instructed him to ring when he needs you.
“Thanks, ___. You—”
“Are the best sister in the world, I know,” you cut him off.
“I was gonna say you should get some rest and to not worry about me. I’ll be fine,” he smiles.
You nod and head out the room, the worried look on your face not going unnoticed by Jungkook, who’d just finished wiping the dishes.
“Everything okay, ___?”
You heave out a sigh.
“What the fuck am I gonna do with him, Kook?” You ask, the reality of your injured and now unemployed brother dawning on you. “What am I gonna tell my parents?”
Oddly enough, it’s when you and Jimin were finally adults did your parents think to check up on you both. Perhaps living under the same roof didn’t warrant that, but with both children now living independently hundreds of miles away from them, they’ve ensured to call every week. Your conversations mostly revolve around Jimin, though, the words “take care of your brother” not having an expiration date, apparently.
You know the weight of the words - it’s not just because you’re older but because by your parents’ standards, you’re also the more stable and financially secure one by nature of your 9-5 corporate job in a fancy building that requires you to wear corporate attires, in contrast to Jimin’s late-nights in a dance studio busting moves in sweats.
Your parents are partial to your kind of work, given that they’ve spent more than half their lives in the same field and always wished you’d both do the same, even if you promised yourself you wouldn’t give in to the world that took so much of your parents’ time from you.
Much as you want to believe you’re just doing your job as the older child by entering the industry, you were too much of a people-pleaser who just wanted to make her parents proud.
Jimin, on the other hand, was smart enough to only apply to the performing arts programs of prestigious universities in Seoul and was good enough to actually land a scholarship in the same school as you; your parents were backed in a corner and couldn’t do anything.
You’d never tell Jimin but you always admired him for that; it takes a lot to stand up to your parents without actually standing up to them. You’re just glad that between the both of you, someone was brave enough to go for what they genuinely wanted.
“Tell them the truth?” Jungkook shrugs. “I mean, what’s the worst that could happen?”
“You act like you don’t know what my parents are like.”
True, Jungkook thinks, but he also knows things have improved on their end. “Well, if anything, they’re more receptive now. They would congratulate Jimin on the choreographies they’d see those idol groups dance. They ask him about work, too.”
You smile at the thought, something your brother never mentioned, but you can imagine how happy that might’ve made him. Jimin, as you’ve found out, is a sweetheart to his friends - affectionate in all ways and very expressive - something he isn’t to you and your parents. The same can be said about you, and you soften at the thought that you and Jimin really aren’t that much different from each other.
Jungkook picks up on the thoughts going through your head. “He probably didn’t tell you because you know him, he’d go all soft if he does, and Jimin has this persona when it comes to you. And it isn’t the soft one.”
“Goes both ways, I guess.”
“It’s not the end of the world, and he doesn’t seem to think so. He’s going to be fine.”
**
Jimin, in all sense of the word, is not fine. It took a few days until he cracked. He went from being an obedient patient who followed the doctor’s order of staying in bed, to one who constantly walked around and complained that he had nothing to do.
Going on dating apps makes him sad, looking at job openings makes him sad, not being able to move and dance makes him sad. And your heart breaks for him, knowing what it’s like to lose your sense of direction and motivation at the loss of something or someone important. You allow him to let out his frustrations, though, listen to him when he rants, feed him his favorite food, and call Jungkook over with his PS4 that isn’t actually broken.
In fact, calling Jungkook has been your go-to, especially when you’re running out of things to say to comfort Jimin. Most times it’s really just so they could play PS4 together, prompting Jungkook to leave it at your place so Jimin could stay preoccupied and not feel too down when the job lists come up empty. He tires easily though, and it’s after he’s been tucked in bed that you usually settle for a cup of tea in the kitchen, Jungkook now the one listening to you talk.
It usually starts with the topic of Jimin, followed by some memory from your childhood that you and Jungkook get hysterical over, followed by a story about your work, and then a story about his. His stories are more interesting though. He shows you the paintings and digital pieces he makes for clients, and tells you amusing bits about his tattooing gig like amusing patterns and memorable customers.
Hearing all this sends warmth through you because of how much he’s grown. While you’re only 3 years older, you met Jungkook when he was a shy 10 year-old, a complete opposite to you and Jimin’s naturally sociable selves. He went from smiling sheepishly to joking around and giving you high-fives in the 5 years before you went to Seoul to study.
Of course he’s grown when he followed your brother to the same university, having seen him with different girls, going to the same parties because your friends had taken a liking to him, and attending his art exhibitions. He went from greeting you under his breath to calling out to you at a bar while he’s surrounded by his peers.
This was the kid who used to follow your brother around - even joined the dance club in high school - and would dunk his head in water if you asked him to, but now he’s forged his own path, doing what he loves, and enjoying every bit of his time that he controls.
Personally, you’re also just happy that he can be available for your brother and for you, too, seeing that the nights you used to spend forcing yourself to sleep are now spent in good conversation with him.
He’s also gotten way more attractive in the past few years, something you’ve only noticed now. Perhaps it has much to do with the physical closeness when you talk - your kitchen bar isn’t that long, anyway - where you’re able to pay more attention to his defined jawline, his dark eyes that anybody could get lost in, the curve of his nose, and the perfectly-placed beauty marks on his face. Come to think of it, maybe Jungkook has always been handsome, but you stop your thoughts before they go anywhere restricted.
It’s one Saturday night when you arrive home, after having drinks with your friends, to a very drunk Jimin and a tipsy Jungkook, gorging on fried chicken. Just thinking of cleaning up is already giving you a headache, which is aggravated by your brother’s drunk singing of classic yet cringey sad love songs.
“Yah! Look at the mess you’ve made,” you smack Jimin’s arm, pointing to the chicken crumbs on the floor. “And alcohol, seriously? You can barely walk properly and now you’re drinking?”
“I’m injured, unemployed, homeless, and heartbroken. Leave me alone,” is all he says, then proceeds to belt out an insanely high note that pierces your ears and which causes Jungkook to laugh, used to this already and may have been enduring this the past hour or so.
“He’s been like this for the past 4 hours,” Jungkook says.
“And you let him?”
At the final high note, Jimin passes out on the couch, body limp over the empty space to his left.
“He wanted to drink his frustrations away, thought it might help,” Jungkook responds.
You sigh in annoyance but think he’s right, too. Jimin was out drinking his frustrations the night he got injured but at least now he’s doing it in the safety of your home.
“I guess,” you shrug. “Can you take him to his room before he severs his neck?”
Jungkook laughs but follows. He carries Jimin over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and you pretend to not look hot and bothered at how easily he could carry your dead-weight brother.
You follow to the room shortly and place an aspirin and orange juice on the side table, knowing it’s Jimin’s hangover drink. You remove the strands of hair that have stuck to his forehead and tuck him under the covers.
Jungkook looks at you fondly; for someone who always claims you should’ve disowned her brother, you sure have a very affectionate way of showing it.
You step out of the room and take in Jungkook’s tipsy state, red cheeks and glassy eyes giving him away.
“You should stay,” you tell him. “You drank and I doubt you’d sober up anytime soon, but try anyway.”
He nervously accepts but not for the reasons you think. He’s nervous because aside from those sleepovers at your house when you were younger, this is the first time he’s sleeping under the same roof as you, and that makes him giddy but anxious at the same time. He hopes you don’t catch him mid-dream saying your name; that would be too awkward to explain.
He goes back to the living room post-shower, a blanket and large pillow on the couch and you, tucked in the corner with a glass of juice.
“Did you want to sleep already? I can go to my room if you are.”
“No, it’s okay. I’m not that sleepy yet, you can stay.”
He refuses your offer of a drink. Unsure of the appropriate distance from you now that there’s space to go around, he settles on the other end of the couch. You smile at him as he sinks on the corner and he smiles back as you take baby sips from the glass. You both settle in comfortable silence, appreciating the quiet as a reprieve from the mind-numbing noise from earlier.
You take a big gulp and he couldn’t hold the chuckle at your wide eyes hidden behind the glass.
“So I’m guessing your hangover drink is apple juice?” He asks, not missing the similarity with your brother.
“Yeah. Jimin hates it so I’m sure he’ll never take it. He used to finish all the orange juice at home and I was mad because I wanted orange juice, too,” you say with a pout. Jungkook’s heart skips a beat at how adorable you look and goes for an ah, that’s why face because he remembers you fighting Jimin over it before.
“So you just switched to apple juice?”
“Yeah, pretty much. It’s really good. I thought he’d switch too just to annoy me but he said he really doesn’t like it.”
“Look at you two, being all civilized for once,” Jungkook teases. You throw a pillow at him and laugh at his comment, but you don’t disagree.
“Yah! We’ve always been civilized, okay?”
“Now that is a lie. May I remind you of the time you two wrestled in front of me over a piece of pop tart. How you tackled him to the ground and he pulled your hair and the innocent treat was crushed in the process.”
“Hey, I was 15 and I called dibs on the strawberry!”
“Or that time you both wanted to watch different movies and had me choose and I felt like I was signing a death sentence either way? But it didn’t matter because you still got into a pillow fight?”
“His choices were always so boring!”
“Or that time when…” You throw him another pillow.
“Yeah, yeah. I get it. We weren’t always civilized,” you give up, laughing so hard with him at the memories. “You witnessed the worst parts of us, huh?”
“I didn’t really have a choice, did I?” Jungkook cocks an eyebrow.
“Well, you were the only one who stayed. The rest of your friends would run out once Jimin and I started going at it.”
He laughs at this because if only you knew why he always stayed. He actually liked that you’d let him referee you two, he felt wanted.
“Hmm, it takes a lot to handle the Park siblings, I don’t blame them.”
“Wow, Jeon Jungkook. Calling out your elder. Where is this bravery coming from?” You tease.
“I drank, remember?”
“Not much though.”
He shrugs. He doesn’t know, too, but he likes seeing you look flustered. “Enough liquid courage, I guess.”
You deem his answer satisfactory but it does make you recall all those petty fights growing up.
“Sorry you had to witness all that,” you say, giving him a shy smile. “Our personalities were always just clashing and it was harder not to fight each other.”
“I think you two are just so similar, that’s why.”
You look at Jungkook, eyes wide at the statement you’d only ever thought to yourself.
“He thinks the world of you, you know?” He continues, sensing your now serious demeanor. “He used to tell the mean older kids that you’re his sister and you’ll fight them if they hurt him because he just knows you’d protect him no matter what.”
You laugh and roll your eyes but Jungkook knows you agree.
“For schoolwork, he would always write about you as his role model or the person he looks up to.” Jungkook doesn’t miss how your eyes soften at this. “He never found out that I knew but I’ve read parts, how he wanted to be strong and kind like you, to be independent and smart and hardworking like you.”
Maybe it’s the remnants of alcohol, or this apple juice is just fucking delicious but you’re getting emotional.
“And honestly, I don’t think that’s changed. He’ll always look up to you, whether he’ll say it or not.”
And there goes the water works, causing panic in Jungkook and he immediately goes to you. Noticing your non-movement, he uses the edges of his hoodie to wipe the tears that have begun flowing from your eyes. He stills for a moment but seeing how you haven’t pushed him away, he continues.
You look up at him with watery eyes and quivering lips. Somehow you should be embarrassed but something about Jungkook having seen the worst of you and being nothing but a huge help these past few weeks, you feel safe. No judgment whatsoever, just an air of understanding and care.
“Why are you telling me this?” You ask, and Jungkook feels weak at how you look. He didn’t mean to make you sad but all he wants to do now is hug you until you feel better.
“Because you’ve been so worried and so hard on yourself, as if it’s only your burden to carry.”
You try to object but he cuts you. “Jimin’s an adult. He’s crying and drinking and sulking but that’s normal. He’ll be fine and get himself together. I know that. Even he knows that. You know why? Because it’s what he’s seen you do.” Jungkook wipes another stray tear.
“Whether it’s a breakup or a work thing, he’s seen you take hits but never back down, never let anybody walk all over you, never let them take away the best parts of you. He’s struggled before, too, but he always got back up.”
“He’s good and strong that way,” you reply softly.
“Like I said, he has a good role model,” he smiles, nudging your shoulder.
It’s meant to be playful but it’s comforting for you, and you’re leaning on his shoulder before you know it, ignoring the way he briefly stills at your action.
“You’re a good person, Kook. We’re lucky to have you.”
You’re so close to him and he can feel the heat radiate from you. It’s too quiet that he’s afraid you’d hear the thrumming of his heart, from your words and the affection behind your still head on his shoulder. The situation calls for it, he thinks, so he lays his hand on your back and rubs circles on it.
He’ll chalk it up to liquid courage again if you ask, but you don’t. Instead you snuggle closer, chasing his warmth. He swears he could pass out with just this, but he tortures himself more by holding you even closer and he swears, even with his thick hoodie, he could feel your smile.
**
Over a month since the gutter incident - as you like to call it - you, Jimin, and Jungkook have found a pattern of cohabitation, and yes, that includes Jungkook, seeing as how he’s become a staple in your household and your life.
At some point, Jimin had sulked less and would spend his time watching dance videos to remind himself of the feeling, even if it was just virtual. He’d even expanded his choice of employment by checking job openings as a fitness instructor and a ballet teacher for children.
He’d also done his regular foot exercise once the pain became bearable. Still unemployed and heartbroken though, he’s been shameless in making your place his own home, with most of his belongings now removed from their boxes, and inviting Jungkook over any time, any day. Not that you minded though, since he’s been nothing but a literal angel.
Living in a studio on his own, Jungkook usually has ramen or street food as dinner, which is why Jimin used to invite him over his shared apartment with Taehyung so that Jungkook could at least have home cooked meals every once in a while.
It’s why he’s often over your place on weeknights he doesn’t have a shift at the tattoo parlor. That and because Jimin still wants him over to play video games. Jungkook brings food over or pays for delivery though, and you welcome the initiative.
On weekends, you’re all busy doing your own thing in the living room together, which carries over to movie nights. The young ones pass up on their friends’ invites to a party while you, well, your friends would rather spend their weeknights with their partners instead. So your night of basking in your singleness now means doing so with your brat of a brother and his dependable best friend.
It’s a Saturday afternoon when you get home from doing errands and you find both men in your living room, with Jimin reading a book on some dancer’s biography and Jungkook busy on his laptop. Your brother’s face pops on the screen and you decide it’s not a personal matter so you plop next to Jungkook on the floor and softly rest your chin on his shoulder, something you’ve maybe done once or twice before.
“What you up to?” You ask, an impressed look on your face at the snippets of Jimin dancing, some of which you’ve never seen before.
“I’m working on his application video,” he says, pointing to your brother. “Since he’s not able to dance when he tries for jobs, he thinks sending them a video to show his skills will help.”
“Oh, like a visual CV of some sort?”
“Yes!” Jimin states. “Want them to know what they’re missing out on, and that’s a lot.”
You roll your eyes but mentally agree; your brother is the most talented person you know.
“Kookie’s been kind enough to work on it for me although he’s been on it for hours,” he continues, a playful smile on his face.
“Give him a break, Chim. He’s done so much for you already,” you say, getting your own laptop and setting it up on the table.
“Nah, it’s the least I can do. He’s helped me so much, ___.”
“He fought off your bullies 15 years ago…” You cock an eyebrow.
Jungkook chuckles. “Yes. And more. Helped me with school work, my confidence, my social skills…”
“Gave him tips to woo girls because he was too shy to ask them on dates,” Jimin adds.
“Hmm,” you mumble. “What you gotta be shy for? Just flash them your smile or show them your toned arms, they’ll probably jump on you right there,” you say nonchalantly, unaware of the way Jungkook’s heart stills at your comment.
“He doesn’t want them to jump on him, ___. He wants them to actually like him, or love, whatever. He’s a romantic, you know,” Jimin teases. “Would travel to the ends of the earth or fight to the death for the woman he loves, whoever she is,” he says matter-of-factly, unaware of the way Jungkook’s breath hitches because if Jimin only knew.
“Aww, Kook. That’s cute,” is all you say, smile genuine though, he wishes he could see it everyday. But cute, really? That’s it?
He chooses not to dwell on it and instead asks you what you’re up to, to which you respond that it’s a presentation you have to work on. You’re frustrated at your lack of design eye and it looks so bare; you want it to look professional but still eye-catching.
“Maybe I can help!” Jungkook states.
But of course, you think. You’ve been accommodating an actual graphic designer in your home, surely it’s fair that he help you out, right?
“Yes please, Kook. I need to blow these people away with my smarts and my non-existent creativity,” you laugh.
Jungkook sets aside his laptop, adoringly quick to prioritize helping you, and works on your presentation. He knows just the right color and font combo, even helping out on which details to include, what visuals to add, and how to make it exactly how you want.
You’re amused at how easily he works on it. He's meticulous, working on the size of the texts and the angles of the patterns. Jimin chides him for his perfectionism but unbeknownst to both of you, Jungkook’s laser focus is a means of distraction with how physically close you’ve been to him the past hour, eyes flicking from him to the screen.
He wants this to last but also can’t wait for it to be over because of how nervous he is, especially with your constant praises for something really basic, but which he finds so charming all the same.
Pretty soon he finishes and returns your laptop to you and retrieves his, quick to get back to work and focus on something else, which still proves futile once you remove your sweater to reveal a camisole underneath, and tie your hair on a high bun, thus exposing more of your shoulders and neck.
He shakes off the tingles he feels, pretends to be completely unbothered by his attraction towards you that seems to intensify day-by-day. He looks forward to seeing you, and when he doesn’t, he yearns to. He’d been used to admiring you from afar but these past weeks showed that he has all the reasons to admire you even up close.
You’re just as brilliant, feisty, and funny; sassy too like Jimin but in a captivating way, yet so kind-hearted just the same.
The three of you settle in a comfortable silence, each busy with your own task at hand. With your knees touching Jungkook’s, your questions on any additions you make on the presentation, and him asking for your approval on the video (which he seeks, oddly enough from you and not from Jimin), your eventual quick agreement on dinner and your teamwork in preparing it, it all feels so familiar, like it’s home.
**
The next evening, you find yourself sandwiched between Jungkook to your right and Jimin to your left, who moved from his center seat to lie down, with half of his tiny body settled comfortably on top of you and Jungkook. Your brother insisted on watching “How to Be Single” tonight, like a slap to all your faces.
It’s during one of the scenes with the protagonist’s ex when Jimin randomly asks, “___, do you regret breaking up with Namjoon?”
It may seem like a question out of left field, but with everything that’s happened, Jimin has been quite reflective lately, particularly about love. He’s had his fair share of partners but unlike you, is more a feeler than a thinker; gets out of relationships as fast as he gets into them; takes it one day at a time whereas you always have to consider the future.
You don’t need to ponder on the question; you’ve gone through this multiple times with your best friends but never really with your brother.
“Sometimes. But there was too much on the line and it was unfair to both of us if we carried on.” You sigh, recalling the moment you both decided it wouldn’t work. “It was something we had to do but doesn’t mean it hurt any less.”
Jimin hums, thinking back to the days he’d barge in your apartment and ask for leftovers when really, he just wanted to be near you so you had someone to cry to, just in case. That was over 2 years ago and it took you a year to finally say that you were over the relationship. He used to note your choice of words - “I’m over us,” never “I’m over him.”
Next to you, Jungkook is picking on his nails, unsure if he should be part of the conversation. He’d heard about the break up since you had common friends. It was quite the shock, knowing how you and Namjoon were.
You pick up this nervous habit, aware that he might not know what really happened. It wasn’t a secret but there was more to the story.
“We just wanted different things,” you say then turning to both of them, “so you two better make sure you’re on the same page with the person you date, talk about what lies ahead, what you want, what you’re willing to compromise and what you aren’t.”
“That’s good advice, yeah Kookie?” Jimin says.
“Why you focusing on me?” Jungkook asks.
“You’re the one focused on the dating, not the settling. You avoid those conversations.”
“You don’t want to settle?” You ask, now curious. You’ve seen him with girlfriends but thinking back now, his relationships never really lasted.
“It’s not that,” he glares at Jimin. “I’m more of a live-in-the-moment kind of guy. Thinking about the future is great, I mean, any mature individual does that, it’s just…”
He heaves out a sigh, hoping he’s not shooting himself in the foot with his statement. “What good is the future if you don’t take care of what you have right now? Isn’t the present more important because it’s what’s assured? The future is literally dependent on that, so the now is what I want to focus on.”
He rests his head on the couch, nervous of your reaction. He knows you’re a planner, needs to see things far ahead to know what to do.
There’s no one way to go about life, he acknowledges that. He just doesn’t want you to think he’s not a serious guy. With his developing feelings for you, not seeing him as a potential partner is literally the worst thing that could happen.
Jimin continues with the movie he paused but in your mind, all you could think about was what Jungkook said. If you and Namjoon hadn’t obsessed about the future, would things have been different? Would you still be together?
The sinking feeling comes at the realization that maybe they still wouldn’t. What if your ‘present’ with him then wasn’t good enough in the first place? That the “could be” was more exciting than the “what is”? Suddenly there’s clarity, you just don’t know if it’s the good kind.
Still, it doesn’t keep you from sinking further down the couch until you’re leaning on Jungkook’s shoulder. And like the few times that you have, there’s a comforting feeling in the act.
“You must’ve made your ex-girlfriends really happy, huh Kook?” You ask, head shuffling near his upper arm. “Focusing on the present and the moments and all that.”
You wish it was something you did, but Namjoon was just like you.
“I guess you could say that,” he answers shyly.
“But that was just it though, right Kook?” Jimin says. “Made them happy but not enough to fall in love.”
This prompts you to look at him, wide eyes full of questions. “How come?”
He turns to you and if he tried enough, Jimin right behind you would blur and there’s just you, overhead light illuminating the best parts of your face which is, well, everything. You’re absolutely breathtaking.
And at your question - how come he never fell in love - comes his own realization. For all of his talk of living in the moment, tucked in the corner of his mind is the thought of the future he’s only ever dreamed about, the one that he’s always wanted, well, with you.
“I - I actually don’t know.”
**
Adopting your brother, and by extension Jungkook, isn’t as bad as you expected. Sure, Jimin is still a diva and annoys you just because he wants to, but he makes you laugh more, compliments your cooking more, and encourages you to go out and have fun. Most times you do, but if you’re being honest, you’ve been enjoying time spent with him and Jungkook more.
Your movie and PS4 nights are chaotic and only egos are harmed. You and Jungkook help Jimin with job hunting, monitor his practice dancing, and watch dance videos with him. Two months since the gutter incident, you’ve gone to the park, the beach, and the river, perfected making choco-walnut cookies, and built fairy houses.
Your days are more tiring yet satisfying, as if your apartment actually feels like a sanctuary, save for Jimin’s provocation leading to your bickering, but even that has become a welcome addition in your daily life as well.
Jungkook though is altogether a different story. You two have gone grocery shopping together more than once, had spent some mornings on a run, and some weeknights he even picks you up from work then you both grab some of Jimin’s favorite food for dinner. Those are on top of the many nights you’ve spent drinking whatever in the living room, bidding him goodnight either out the door or on your couch. You’re not exactly sure what to make of the giddiness but you shut down whatever unusual feeling there is before they start to mean anything more.
**
It started with a missed deadline, then an oversight of a risk, then your workmate Chul getting the last laugh. Sometimes, no matter how good you think things are going, all it takes is an extremely bad week, made up of extremely bad moments, to make you doubt yourself. You think some more, then you end up doubting everything else.
Am I good enough for this job? Can I really make a career here? Is this what I really want? Is this going to make me happy? Why the fuck am I still single? It’s the sudden feeling of uncertainty that overwhelms you, makes you second-guess, and suddenly you’re not as stable and secure as you thought you were.
It’s this feeling that you carry over the day after at your friend Jin’s and his wife’s baby shower. Between their growing family, Yoongi’s hit-making record label, Hoseok’s renewed contract as a travel show host, Yuri’s PhD, and Na-eun’s engagement to her college boyfriend, you feel so… lost. Like you’re just getting by, just letting time pass until there’s something big and meaningful to look forward to again, whatever that is.
Of course your friends would never make you feel any less; that’s really on you, which is probably worse.
The party is on full swing; gifts have been given and time has come for full-on socializing where you all get to talk about how great your individual lives are. Except for you. And maybe Eun-ha on the corner who doesn’t seem to be happy being here, but that’s not your problem.
Somewhere near the bar is Jungkook, beer in hand and clearly enjoying himself. He’s a staple in events like this and he fits right in with everyone else - self-assured, content, in control, and may be on his way to a date, seeing as how that pretty girl hasn’t left his side all afternoon. Not that you were monitoring, though.
For once, you’re actually hoping Jimin was here so you can whine together, but the group he used to choreograph for invited him to their concert, so there’s that.
You’re on your third glass of champagne when you head inside Jin’s enormous house, away from the laughter and obvious put-together lives of your friends, when you see him, the man who was once your embodiment of stability, of a “good and secure life,” as your parents had said.
He sees you, flashes his dimple-bearing smile, and walks towards you, looking extremely good in a white polo and denim jacket, brown hair slicked back.
“___!” He greets, his arms immediately engulfing you in a tight hug, providing you the physical warmth that you haven’t felt in a while. You sigh into him, your head on his firm chest, his now sturdier frame but a reminder of the time that's passed.
You linger, prompting him to gently stroke your back like he used to after a long day at work.
“You needed this, huh?” He observes, voice low and comforting.
You release yourself from his hold and look up at him, his sweet smile a contrast to his commanding presence.
“Unfortunately,” you sigh.
“Boss still not giving you due credit? Colleagues still not making it any easier? Stress still at an all-time high?” He asks, and it’s either he still reads you so well or your problems - or you - haven’t changed one bit.
“You’re just not your usual energetic self,” he continues. “I mean, I haven’t seen your genuine smile since you arrived.”
He’s been watching you? Somehow that sends heat to your cheeks and quickens your heartbeat.
“Just tired, is all. Plus, Jimin’s been living at home after a little accident,” you finally respond.
His face makes this charming worried expression. “House already a makeshift wrestling ring?” He laughs.
“You’d be surprised at how little damage there is in my apartment. Safe to say we’ve grown up,” you say, wide smile finally adorning your face, which he returns. You haven’t felt this light the whole week.
“It’s nice to see you again, Joonie.”
**
You and Namjoon find a spot in the large living room, with the 2-seater couch being the only one available, the physical closeness making it difficult not to be mesmerized by his gorgeous face. His laugh is still the same, the feel of his hand under yours is still the same; the attention he gives, his thoughtful and wise words, and ability to make you feel cared for haven’t changed.
You’re smiling more, eyes sparkling for sure, and you can’t help the way your body reacts the way it does - knees chasing his, hand tucking your hair behind your ear, voice going a key higher.
He’s still the same confident and self-assured man that you fell in love with, that you once saw a life with. It’s almost intoxicating, the way he speaks, sees the world, sees himself. You could easily fall into this again, into the ideal, the safe and secure, the expected, the could be. You think of the reasons why it didn’t work out, of what you chose when you decided to call it quits. His phone rings. He excuses himself but you still hear him. And you’re reminded why.
“I’m sure the gown looks beautiful, love. I’ll leave the party soon and meet you and our parents at the wedding planners’ office. See you in a bit.”
Your heart should be breaking but it’s just your pride that does.
“I’m sorry, it was my uh—“ he says, unsure.
“Your fiancé,” you smile, as if reminding him.
“Yeah it’s… it’s pretty recent and we uh… we’re planning to have it in 3 months,” he explains, eyes turning sullen, lips curling into an apologetic smile.
“Congratulations, Namjoon. I’m so glad you’re happy,” you say, hoping he picks up the sincerity in your voice.
He sits across from you again, hand on top of yours, his smile hopeful, and for the first time, you see him struggle with what to say. So you don’t give him a chance to.
“What are you still doing here?” You playfully nudge him. “You have somewhere else to be.”
“You’ll be okay?”
“Of course. Don’t worry about me.”
He lingers this time. Maybe in another life you would’ve worked out, you would’ve loved each other better, you would’ve fought for each other. But not in this.
He leans forward and places a soft kiss on your forehead and you shut your eyes, absorbing all the words he wishes he could say. I’m sorry. I will always care about you. I hope you find your happiness, too.
Your eyes follow him as he walks out the door, out to the woman who could definitely give him what you couldn’t. From across the room, a pair of eyes follows your movement too, the way it has since you entered the party four hours ago.
**
Whatever worry you initially had about getting drunk at your friend’s baby shower is out the window. You don’t mind anymore, not with your 5th glass of champagne and your 3 shots of vodka because of course, it’s Jin. You laugh along with your friends although you’re too dazed to process what they’re saying.
Your jaw is sore from laughing over things you don’t understand so you decide to head inside, maybe call it a night and take the drinking back to your place; at least you’d be in your pjs and not in a tight dress and heels.
You’re pulling open a door that just won’t budge and you exert what little energy you have, causing you to trip on yourself only to be held steady by strong hands on your waist.
“That’s a sliding door, ___,” the familiar voice says, tone low but still teasing.
You turn around and meet chocolate eyes looking down at you and you stare back even in your embarrassment.
“I… I think I’m drunk,” you stutter.
You’re met with laughter. “No shit, ___. Think I didn’t notice that?”
“I…” You say, looking down at the hands still holding onto you.
He quickly removes them, worry painting his face and you wave him off before he could apologize.
“Let’s go to a bar, Jungkook.”
**
You reasoned your decreased alcohol tolerance to your friends, which they didn’t buy but waved you off without much fanfare. They probably sensed you were out of it for a while. Or probably saw the exchange with Namjoon, who knows.
But you’re now at a bar eating chicken wings and fries like you’re about to run out of food, the guy next to you chuckling and reminding you to breathe every once in a while.
You finish your meal quickly and pout when you realize he’s barely touched his food.
“You’re not eating,” you state the obvious.
“Sorry, too entertained,” he laughs, the child-like sound now so familiar, you’d recognize it anywhere.
He’s just smiling at you and you feel so small under his gaze. He saw you talking with Namjoon, taking shots, and almost tripping earlier. He’s probably wondering who this person is; definitely not the one who’s been semi-housing him the past few months.
You bury your face in your hands. “I’m so embarrassed,” you cry out.
“Hey now,” he says, hands gently removing yours from your face. He stops the one tear before it falls off.
“God, how many times have I cried in front of you, Kook? This is humiliating.”
“No one’s counting though,” he states. “It’s your drinks I’m counting and I’m thinking maybe you’ve had enough.”
You nod and he orders a can of soda and a glass of water. With light chatter and glasses clinking in the background, you two fall in comfortable silence. He’s quietly picking on his food, eyes roaming the bar while yours flit from him to the space between you, somehow wishing it isn’t as wide as it is right now.
“I had a bad week,” you finally say. He nods.
“My friends are all accomplishing so many things, achieving their dreams and I’ve been stuck in the same company for 5 years.”
He nods again.
“I’m a 28 year-old who got drunk at a baby shower and flirted with her ex only to find out he’s engaged.”
Jungkook pretends not to be affected at the confirmation that you were indeed flirting with Namjoon but he nods just the same.
“And?” He asks.
“And? I’m in a bar with you, and I cried, and I’m acting like a baby because I had a terrible week and ended up doubting everything and now think I can’t get my life together. I mean, between my brother I can’t properly help, a job I can’t seem to stand out in no matter how hard I try…” You release a deep breath. “And a relationship I couldn’t keep because I wasn’t enough and I…”
“Hey, don’t say that,” he says angrily. “You’re none of those things.”
“I wasn’t sure if I wanted to have kids. And Namjoon always wanted to be a father,” you blurt, the words not stinging as they used to.
This stuns Jungkook. Jimin had always mentioned it was a mutual breakup but never said anything more. Jungkook didn’t think it was because of this.
“I thought I wanted a family, too. It was so easy to fall into the idea of that kind of life with him because he was the perfect person to have it with. But then one day I just started doubting it,” you sigh, recalling how hard you used to be on yourself for suddenly wanting something different.
“Sometimes I think, what if I gave myself more time, what if eventually I’d be sure?” You take a long breath. “But the uncertainty was too much and it wasn’t fair to him,” you huff. There was no blame game; you both knew it wasn’t anyone’s fault.
“Quite the dealbreaker, huh?” Jungkook wonders.
“Yeah but looking back, the other issues were just bubbling under the surface. The future was so enticing and we talked about it all the time, it seemed much more important than well, us,” you explain.
“It was Jimin who made me realize that I hung onto Namjoon for the relationship, the potential, what it meant. He was the epitome of stability and I was the same for him but at some point, even that wasn’t enough.”
“So, earlier. Why did you, uhm,” he starts, hoping it doesn’t come out wrong.
“Flirt with him?”
Jungkook nods.
“Being with him used to make me feel like I had it together, you know? Like I had it figured out because he did and it was silly but I don’t know, maybe I wanted to trick myself into thinking that by being close to him in any way, I had it together.”
“You don’t need to have it together all the time. You just need to have it together enough.” His whole body turns to you.
“You had one bad week, we all do. But it’s over now, isn’t it? Your friends doing well in their careers? So are you. You know what not to compromise on, what to stand up for, which battles to fight. I’ve heard enough of your stories to know that there are people at work who respect you, look up to you. The way your friends, your brother, and I look up to you.”
Your lips are quivering, forcing yourself not to cry again tonight. He just always knows what to say. “That’s really sweet, Jungkook.”
“Thanks, but I wasn’t trying to be sweet. I was just being honest. You’re a lot of good things to people, ___. Isn’t that what matters? Being a little off at work and drinking then flirting with an ex don’t make you any less of a person. Okay? You’re allowed to slip up every once in a while.”
You let this sink in.
“Look at you, Jeon Jungkook. When did you get this wise? It’s like I just blinked then you’re all of a sudden so grown up.” You tease to keep yourself from breaking down.
“Like I told you, much of what I know, I got from Jimin. And what he knows, he got from you. Maybe try listening to yourself, yeah?” He smirks.
You nod, smile creeping on your face the same way all the heat is rushing to your cheeks. You feel comfortable like this, being vulnerable and sad and doubtful but he’s holding you close without touching you, making you feel safe with just his presence. In the now noisy bar, your bodies angling towards each other, and with his tender smile, you feel a type of intimacy you’ve never felt before. It’s reassuring yet enticing at the same time. And this scares you.
You both stay for another hour until you decide it’s time to head home. Jungkook had taken a cab, too in anticipation of drinking so you both decided to walk back to your apartment, knowing the couple of blocks would be enough to sober you up.
The streets are still alive with the nightlife just starting but the noise starts to tone down once you reach your neighborhood. The long walk is soothing, as Jungkook leaves you to your thoughts, except for the times he has to steady you because, well, your vodka shots are still in your system and a walk isn’t enough to flush them down. Still, you’re calm, a feeling of acceptance overtaking you.
“Thanks for tonight, Jungkook. I hope I didn’t ruin any potential date or anything just because I couldn’t get the door open,” you laugh.
He raises an eyebrow.
“That, uh, girl seemed really into you,” you stammer.
He chuckles, hands in his pockets and cheeks flushed at the implication of your observation.
“That wasn't much, we were just chatting.” He turns to you. “I could see your scrunched eyebrows from where I was and thought you needed help,” he shrugs.
You sigh. He was always helpful, ever since he was a kid.
“You know, you were always the good guy. Jimin’s other friends were so rowdy and immature. Yugyeom was always sprawled on the couch with his feet up like he owned the place; Sejun was always finishing our ice cream, and Sunghoon was such a flirt.”
Jungkook laughs, recalling the times you were scolding all of them for messing up the house and being so annoyingly noisy and eating your snacks.
“You were always the well-behaved and mature one. Like, you barely engaged in their pranks and stupid boy talk. You’d rather watch it all unfold until it was too much and you’d help me in the kitchen always. I remember your glazed potatoes. God, that was so hilarious.”
“That was embarrassing.”
“It was funny! And adorable. You were always so kind.”
“Thanks but uh, I wasn’t trying to be kind. Well, sort of. I wanted to impress you. And I—” He doesn’t know where this is coming from but it’s like word vomit, especially now that you’ve started to walk more slowly and are looking at him.
“It was an opportunity to be near you. Kinda wanted a lot of that back then. Even now, actually.”
You gulp, unsure of what to feel or how to react. You thought you were imagining his lingering looks, or how his eyes shone a tad brighter and his smile was a bit wider when you were around. But he’s not saying what he’s saying, right?
“I, uh. Well, maybe you look up to me like an older—“
“Don’t say sister because I never saw you as one,” he interrupts you, frustration laced in his voice as if the word is venom. “Not when I was a teenager, not in the years after, and especially not now.”
You hesitantly turn to him, his nervous face a contrast to the offended tone of his voice just seconds ago. He nibbles on his lips, a mannerism you noticed when he was a teenager who always seemed shy around you and would only relax after you talked to him.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbles. I didn’t mean to sound angry. I just—“
“That was your angry tone?” You tease, your laugh affirming him that you’re not upset one bit, just… unsure. You’re flattered, definitely; he is a very attractive man. Still your brother’s best friend, though.
This eases him, but prompts him to test the waters.
“I’m a gentle boy, what can I say? Most times, at least,” he says, and you don’t miss the playful tone of this voice, his eyes peering down at you, making your breath hitch and your hands clammy.
You wrap yourself with your arms - really to wipe the sweat off because you’re feeling nervous - but Jungkook takes this differently, as anyone would, and immediately unzips his jacket and puts it on you.
You slow on your tracks and you feel even warmer. He follows your pace but urges you to speed up once he feels a droplet on his cheek. You’re glad you opted to wear low heels today, tiring your calves only a little but allowing you to walk fast enough until you’re on the steps of your apartment in time to miss the sudden downpour.
Well, Jungkook doesn’t because as he enters, a portion of his torso is wet, his black shirt sticking on his skin to tease you of his toned abs that you definitely will be thinking about tonight. Between that, his damp hair, and soaked veiny arm, you curse your mind for the images it’s currently making up.
All he did was indirectly tell you he has a crush on you, right? Or did he? He doesn’t seem as bothered as you expected him to be if that was the case so maybe you misinterpreted?
You can’t stand this wet version of him so you say you’ll get him a towel but are too flustered so you hit the wall as you turn towards the bathroom, eliciting a loud “ow!”
“You okay?” He asks worriedly.
“Yeah, still drunk I guess,” you lie. He smirks and probably knows you’re lying.
“I’ll take care of myself, don’t worry. Go wash up and get ready for bed.”
“Are you ordering me around?” You ask, trying your best to reestablish yourself as the one in authority because you can’t take how this man is making you feel nervous and unsettled and not in control.
“Do you want me to?” He simpers, flustering you even more. What is with him?
You roll your eyes and trudge to your bathroom. You’re technically sober but with Jungkook’s looks, the sudden flirty tone of his voice, and his innuendos, you might as well be drunk again.
You open the door and seconds later he’s by your bedroom, a glass of water in one hand and apple juice in the other. The bottle of aspirin is tucked under his arm by his rib and he asks you to get it and you think he's evil for testing you but you take it, acting unbothered. He follows you to your room and you don’t stop him.
Glasses now on your bedside, you tuck yourself in. “Thank you, Jungkook.”
“For what?”
“For staying with me? Listening to me?” You test the waters, too. “For caring for me?” And his smugness disappears. Before you is a man, all strong and tough yet his smile is the tiniest, softest you’ve ever seen on him, and even from where you are, you could see the tips of his ears turn red.
“I really appreciate everything,” you conclude, and you mean it.
He gathers himself before he looks you in the eyes. “Don’t worry about it. Anything you need, just tell me.” You nod.
“Sleep well, ___.”
**
You don’t sleep well. In fact, even with the rain pouring outside, you feel so hot, you end up shedding your shorts.
The closeness with Jungkook has been gradual and if anything, it’s been comfortable. You convince yourself what he has is probably just a little crush; convincing your heart to still is a different story.
Jungkook, on the other hand, can’t stop smiling. He was testing the waters tonight, gauging how you would react to his flirtation and teasing. It was partly the alcohol but then you’d gone all shy and flustered; he thought it was worth a shot.
He was half expecting you to scold him like you used to do with Sunghoon, or berate him like those guys at work but you did neither. You don’t seem to hate him, even with his indirect confession to you, and that’s really better than what he’d hoped.
**
You wake up dissatisfied with your sleep and take your hangover necessities; dealing with Jungkook last night did add to your inebriation.
You head out to the kitchen to prepare some beef bone soup to help with the headache, hands trying to remove the sleep from your eyes. You move like you’re on autopilot like most post-night out mornings and then you hear someone gasp.
“Shit, woman. Learn your manners and put some clothes on,” Jimin shouts.
It wouldn’t have been bothersome had Jungkook not been here but of course, he is. Next to your brother, eyes wide and definitely trying not to look at your bare legs. It dawns on you that you indeed removed your shorts because of that very man and your face contorts in shock and embarrassment.
“Fuck. Jimin! Grab me my shorts on my bed, please!!!” You cry out and stand behind the counter.
He’s too scandalized to complain so he rushes to your room and you feel so hot all over. You avoid Jungkook’s face at all costs, which apparently is what he’s also doing.
Jimin throws your shorts on your face. “Get yourself together, jeez,” he scowls.
“You’re the one invading my space, okay, both of you,” you bite back.
Jimin’s making faces like he always does when you scold him and Jungkook sits next to him, chuckling.
“I shouldn’t have welcomed you, you brats. I’m used to walking around my apartment in my underwear so this is a lifestyle change.”
“Oh god, shut it. Nobody wants to imagine you without clothes on,” he cringes.
For some reason, your eyes find Jungkook, who visibly gulps. You glare at both men, and Jimin responds with an evil smile.
You return to what you were meant to do and start getting ingredients. Jungkook starts to feel bad and approaches you, mumbles to Jimin that he’ll just help.
Jungkook appears next to you. “Did you mean that?”
You sigh. “I didn’t. Of course you two are welcome here.”
“I was referring to the other one,” he says with a low voice.
Your eyes widen and you smack his arm. “What is wrong with you? Stop teasing,” you loud-whisper, but he doesn’t miss the way you try to hide your laugh.
“You’re cute when you’re flustered,” he smirks, and you get flustered even more.
You’re a 28-year old getting scandalized over playful comments by this ridiculously good-looking man and you feel so pathetic but you can’t deny that it’s exciting you. It’s been a while since you’ve had someone flirt with you and pay attention to you like this, make you all giddy and entranced as if you’re an adolescent getting her first love letter or being told by her crush that she’s pretty.
There’s playfulness there but affection, too. You see it in the way he stops the teasing and smiles to himself, then proceeds to help you cook, looks at you with fondness while you eat, then forces Jimin to clean up with him.
This continues for the next few weeks. His lingering looks on you are more flirty now and he smirks when you look away and try to hide your flushed face. His tone of voice when Jimin is nearby is lower, as if he’s telling you a secret.
He no longer stiffens when Jimin moves to the corner of the couch and kicks you closer to Jungkook so that your brother can make space for himself. In fact, it’s the opposite now, with Jungkook finding ways to be near you - when the three of you are on a grocery run, when you’re all on the couch for movie night, and especially when Jimin opts to sit on the floor - shuffling closer, knees grazing each other’s.
You’ve kept your head to yourself, fighting the urge to rest it on his shoulder and he definitely noticed this, so he’s started to edge you, in a way. The once lingering finger touches when he hands you something are no more, so are the “accidental” elbow brushes.
He stands close to you just enough for you to feel the heat off him but not enough to feel him. His arm over your chair leaves his hand thisclose to your shoulder and you swear you can feel the sensation even then.
You’d stopped smacking him after this one time he flexed his bicep and you started to imagine how good those arms must look.
You found out shortly after when he and Jimin convinced you to join them in the gym because Jungkook had a voucher to a free yoga class since a client of his is a teacher; safe to say she wasn’t happy when he popped in the studio to say you were taking his slot. Jungkook and Jimin did a workout, your brother now in a better condition.
After the session, they made you wait as they finished and Jungkook really had to remove his red jacket to reveal his stupidly gorgeous toned and tattooed arms in a black fit sleeveless top. He caught you ogling and the devil crossed his arms to fucking flex and smirk when the conversation he was having with one of the trainers didn’t even seem that amusing.
Of course, his outfit just sent your mind into another dimension with the images of what could be underneath that black top and again, you find out one morning exactly how glorious it is.
It’s one of those post-bar night mornings - you’ve allowed Jimin to enjoy the nightlife again as long as he had chaperones, which essentially were you and Jungkook. You’d woken up and stopped by the hallway at the sound of someone gasping and you look up from the hallway, slack jawed as you watch Jungkook pull his shirt off from the back of his neck with one hand, coffee-stained clothing lying on the counter.
His black sweatpants are hanging low on his hips and does he not have any boxers on?? His tiny waist spreads out to his muscular back, and when he turns, his sculpted chest almost blinds you; pecs just the right perk and torso so taut but not intimidating at all. It’s... beautiful. It looks so smooth and captivating; your eyes can’t help but trail down south and is that black ink that’s peeking underneath the waistband? You gulp at the thought of Jungkook having a hip tattoo because what the fuck? Is he trying to kill you? And his…
“Do you have a shirt I can borrow?” He asks, and you jerk from where you’re standing.
Your eyes turn to the appropriate body part they should be focused on and he’s smiling like he’s an angel, as if he literally didn’t just try to murder you with his exquisite bare body.
His smile is so sweet and you know he’s playing you because he totally caught you drooling at the sight of him. Your throat is dry and suddenly you can’t speak, which really isn’t surprising by now because he’s also taken away your ability to form coherent sentences.
“I, uhm. I’ll get one of Jimin’s.”
“I don’t fit in his clothes. Don’t you have large ones?”
He knows you do, and you nod, unclench the thighs you didn’t even realize had betrayed you, and retrieve one of your oversized Disney t-shirts and approach him. You stay at a safe distance because any closer you might fall into temptation and you throw him the shirt.
He chuckles and turns to his side to slowly put it on because of course there’s a fucking dent down there that he wants to show off.
You turn and trip on your foot because god knows how dizzy you feel from the show he just put on.
“Careful,” he calls out and even with your back turned, you just know he’s smirking.
He beats you to the bathroom shortly after and he took his time.
You decide to wait with your brother who’d been so ecstatic over an audition he landed for a fairly new and small entertainment company as a choreographer for a hip-hop group.
They told him his contemporary dance background and versatility are just what they need and you soften at his joyful face; he says he feels like a new person again. You listen to him excitedly and give encouragement.
You perk at the sound of the bathroom door opening because you really need to clean the wetness down there and you trudge out of the room so you could finally shower, slightly upset at Jungkook’s clothed form.
You groan. “Ugh that was so long,” you mindlessly say.
“Oh it is.” His smirk is back and you are pissed. You bang the door and pull your hair out of frustration.
He doesn’t even need to touch you for you to be a whimpering mess. He knows it. And you’re in trouble.
**
Jungkook is busy for the next two weeks, having shared that he has a couple of on-site art installations outside of the city and a tattoo piece that will need more than one 5-hour shift. You tried not to seem affected when Jimin teased him since it was going to be on a woman’s breast this time.
“This the same one who had her vagina tattooed? The one who asked you out after?” Jimin asked.
Your eyes were burning your phone screen because you absolutely cannot be affected.
“Yeah,” Jungkook laughed. “That was fun.”
Jin calling you was your saving grace and you spent the next half hour in your room, talking to him over nursery room ideas because Hoseok couldn’t make up his mind over a neon green or a fuschia pink wall and Yoongi wanted dark grey because “babies can’t even identify colors,” which is true but Jin needed you as the one with a more palatable taste.
Jungkook had knocked to say goodbye, which is more than his usual yelling, and you noticed him linger before you heard the steps away from your door.
**
It was day 5 when you realized why you’d been so grumpy and you hated the moment you did - you miss Jungkook. You’d gotten so used to seeing him every few days - picking you up from work, playing rock-paper-scissors to determine who’ll choose dinner, laughing at his high-pitched child-like laughter, talking to him about work and other things… you even miss his flirting and teasing.
He’d been such a staple in your life the past months, and not just to referee between you and Jimin. Jungkook, with his listening ear, his heartwarming passion for his work, and ability to soothe and comfort you in the silence, just feels so stable. And not in the way you used to think. He’s so laid-back and just there, always dependable, like you’re sure whatever it is you’re feeling, he’ll know what to do and say.
Jimin used to say that Jungkook was always the person he needed for anything and now you understand why. He emits a certain calmness, joy, and consistency, like whether you’re flying or drowning, he’s the pillar grounding you or keeping you afloat.
You’re always tempted to send him a message but you two don’t text and it’d be weird to just start now, although it doesn’t help that he doesn’t text you, too. You shrug it off and convince yourself that it really might just be a silly crush, one he acts on when he’s around you but probably forgets when he isn’t. Or maybe he went out with that girl, who knows?
On the day that he arrives, he's set to drive Jimin to the audition and watch him, too, while you’re just happy to be able to do errands and clean the house on your own.
The doorbell rings and Jimin, whom you’ve reminded to shower so he won’t be late, answers the door and you try not to look intrigued when you hear him rambling about how good Jungkook apparently looks because how else can he look better?
With ash-grey hair, that’s how. You couldn’t help it. You peeked and turned your head before he could turn to look at you.
You’re currently by the kitchen counter, tiptoeing to try to get the cereal box on the top shelf to check if you need to buy another or if it would suffice. Or if it’s even still edible. You’ll be off for a quick grocery run if only you can get this stupid box out.
Then a large hand is touching your lower back and the fresh scent of detergent fills your nose. You stiffen as an arm is raised to easily grab the cereal box you’ve spent the past 5 minutes trying to get and fuck do you miss his touch, his scent that you realize is just as comforting as his soft sweatshirts, and the way you feel a jolt of electricity even at the slightest brush of his body on yours.
He places the box on the counter. “You should’ve asked,” he says, voice low.
“I can do it,” you respond, gaining the courage to look at him and your lips betray you at how they part because he looks so good with his new hair.
“I know. I just like it when you ask.” He tries to keep his eyes on you but they keep falling to your lips, the one he’d been imagining the feel and taste of. But your eyes lock on his, letting yourself be hypnotized.
You feel his touch drift away from you and you stop him, as your hand finds his and keeps it on your waist, and it signals him to grip tighter and pull you closer. And you let him. You angle yourself so you’re standing chest to chest, you could almost feel his heart beat just as fast as yours.
“What else?” You indulge yourself because you just wanna know. You've missed him and you can’t reconcile the flirting with his recent silence.
Jungkook bites his lip, knowing it’s his signal to tell you how he feels.
“I like it when you say my name, when you listen to me talk and take me seriously. When you don’t make me feel bad about the things I do, the things I choose.”
His hand that isn’t on your waist glides through your arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake. It settles on your cheek and you hope he doesn’t notice just how hot it is.
“I like it when you pout and when you smile with your eyes,” he continues. “And I like it when you need me because then I know I’m not the only one, because fuck do I need you,” he continues, both hands pulling you closer to him until his breath grazes your mouth.
“Want you so much,” he mumbles, before he eliminates the distance and you feel his soft lips on yours, moving tenderly, carefully, as if the purpose is to seek validation that you feel the same way, to ask your acceptance of the overwhelming affection he has for you.
Your lips move gently like his, languid yet electrifying and euphoric and you hold onto him for support, just so you won’t lose yourself even more than you already are.
This now feels surreal. You’re not thinking about anything else - not the before or the after - just the feel of him at this very moment and how it’s making you feel alive, carefree, unbound. And you wonder if all your other kisses had felt this good before. Or maybe just different.
You and Jungkook keep your steady pace, focusing on the soothing feel of each other’s lips, of the sensation of something sensuous and tender.
The aggressive pull of the bathroom door jolts you awake from a dream it seems, and you’re ducking down and crouching on the floor behind the counter before your brother notices anything amiss. Jungkook’s surprised but holds his laugh at how scared you look, the first time he’d seen you be afraid of your brother.
“Kook, has my sister left for the grocery?” He calls out from his open room, probably dressing as he speaks.
Jungkook looks up to check on Jimin. “Yeah, she just left,” he answers after deciphering your hand gestures from underneath him.
“Ugh, I forgot to tell her to buy my cereal. I think the one on the top shelf isn’t edible anymore.”
Jungkook smirks, thanking the heavens that Jimin didn’t tell you, otherwise Jungkook wouldn’t have had the best kiss of his life. He felt you; you moved with him, you felt him. And he can’t be happier.
He has a chance with you. He really has a chance with you, and even at the risk of being caught, he’d do this with you over and over again.
“Let’s go,” Jimin calls out. “I’ll just text her.”
“I’m sure she knows,” Jungkook smirks then heads out, leaving you with a dazed feeling and a heart that won’t slow its beating.
**
Your time alone with your thoughts only served to confuse you even more. It felt nice. He felt nice. You’d never really considered Jungkook as anything more than, well, your brother’s best friend, even if he’d been the one you preferred out of all of Jimin’s friends dating back to middle school.
His well-behaved nature and boyish charms were always endearing to you and even when he grew up, his confidence and compassion just amazed you. But it was always from afar. You think it’s the same with him; his affection may just be a little infatuation borne out of his idea of you growing up. You’ve learned enough that the idea of a person, of a relationship, of a could be isn’t always enough.
Another thing you think about is that Jimin is very protective of his friendships. You know that more than anyone, when you dated Taemin in high school.
You were both seniors and had gotten close because he was Jimin’s dance captain and mentor, someone whom your brother looked up to and admired. Your relationship ended during your first year of college, with both of you saying things you eventually regretted. Safe to say it was your first heartbreak, one that resulted to Jimin’s as well, as his friendship with your ex was also affected.
You and Jimin barely talked about it, seeing his own disappointment because of the resulting strained relationship with Taemin. You thought that the elder would at least maintain a friendship, but he didn’t.
The most Jimin said about it was when he told you, eyes downcast but tone quite angry, to “keep off my friends and don’t date any of them, please.” You were home for a break and he stormed out of your room before you could apologize. You realized later on that his heartbreak was worse than yours; you told yourself you don’t want to be the cause of that pained look on his face ever again.
His friends are off-limits, he made it pretty clear. Taemin was a mentor but one Jimin eventually did without. But Jungkook is his best friend, his brother. They’ve looked out for each other for more than half of their lives; you can’t even imagine what would happen if you and Jungkook get together and then fight, or break up.
You wouldn’t want Jimin to have to give up a friendship that means more to him than anything. Or more accurately, you wouldn’t want to lose Jimin over something that might not mean as much anyway.
You stick to the latter thought, especially when both men arrive home and Jimin is beaming, his smile something you’d never admit actually makes your heart feel all sorts of fuzziness and pride. He’s so excited and you feel it, too, moreso because he informs you that he got the job.
“They really liked me! They said I can really mentor the group and their team is so creative and passionate…” Jimin goes on, narrating every single thing that happened right as he entered the studio. You’ve never seen him this elated, not even with his previous company that was at the top of their game.
“And they said I don’t have to work right away! They’ll wait for my doctor’s clearance but I can go to work to observe and get to know them more.”
Your eyes moisten because not long ago, you saw the joy in your brother wither away, his passion deteriorate, and his plans go on a standstill. But now, it’s like he didn’t go through a slump or moments of weakness, like he didn’t go through a depressive mode when he thought he’d lost everything. He’s really a fighter, and you truly look up to him.
“I wouldn’t have made it if it wasn’t for you two,” Jimin continues, pulling both of you in a three-way hug because of course your brother wouldn’t hug just you.
This prompts Jungkook to wrap his arm around you, hand gripping your waist while yours settles for mere pats on his lower back. He tries not to dwell on this minimal contact, or on the way you purposely avoid his gaze. He tries not to think too much when you actively lean towards your brother more during your dinner out, or how you jerk away when any of Jungkook’s body parts comes in close contact with yours.
He’s thinking maybe you’re not in the mood for his playful antics or maybe, he really pushed too far with the kiss from earlier, and it sends him in an internal panic mode because just as his hope of starting something more with you was blooming, it quickly gets shot down just like that.
It’s when you pass up on games and drinks in your living room when you get back so you could just stay in your room did Jungkook think that he may really have blown his chance.
**
You try to be subtle in your avoidance of Jungkook but it’s harder than expected, especially since Jimin still invites him over. With the excitement of the new job now steadying, Jimin announces his checklist for getting through a crisis - healed foot, check; new job, check. That’s pretty much it, really. “But I still need you two,” he says.
Jungkook comes over and at the start, you notice how he still tries. He attempts to catch your gaze, goes near you, engages you in conversation, makes jokes, lingers before leaving… only to be met with eyes that don’t seek him, short answers, forced laughter, and cold goodbyes. And you absolutely hate it.
He’s around yet you miss him even more than when he was away, but you can’t fall into the things that made you feel something for him in the first place.
Living with Jimin made you appreciate him so much more, and you’re glad you get to be this close with him for the first time, and you don’t want to jeopardize that.
Jungkook had much to do with the newfound attachment with your brother, yet it’s exactly why you’re hesitant to give Jungkook a chance. Their relationship is sacred, similar to how yours with Jimin is. What you and Jungkook have is a by-product of those, and it’s not the priority. Somehow you think all three can’t coexist; you can’t have it all, really.
Whenever Jungkook makes an effort, Jimin’s plea to keep off his friends rings in your head. You know, too, that Jimin gave his friends an ultimatum - date my sister or keep your dicks, something like that. It was funny when you heard of it, but it’s definitely not a laughing matter now.
Those words were said years ago yet they still hang above your head. You wish Jungkook would just make it easier for you, but why is it that when he stopped trying did you feel your heart break, as if you’re losing something you never had in the first place?
**
It’s easy to reason you feel sick and tired; you’ve been spending later hours at work so spending more time in your room and asking the boys to make dinner instead seem reasonable. But tonight, Jimin isn’t having it.
“We’re celebrating, stay here,” he says, pulling you to the couch next to him. Jungkook is on his right, his once tendency to stiffen around you back again, and you sadden at the thought because he looks so uncomfortable.
“Celebrating what?” You ask, grabbing the beer being handed to you.
“I’ve been working for 2 weeks and I haven’t reinjured my foot,” he says, his smile blinding you.
Normally you’d roll your eyes at his shallowness but you just agree and mindlessly sip the beer, eyes veering off in the distance.
“Is it a guy?” Jimin asks out of nowhere and you try not to choke. “You only ever get this sulky when it’s about a guy. Is it someone from work?” Jimin states with furrowed eyebrows.
“Oh! Is it one of the managers who’s been trying to ask you out but he’s the ex of your close friend?”
You try to remember when you told him that but it was definitely a months-ago issue.
“Or did you have an epiphany and realized you actually like Yoongi? Or Hoseok? Or maybe Jin but he’s married?”
“What the hell, Jimin!” You say, smacking his arm. Your eyes flit to Jungkook who’s focused on the TV.
“The first one,” you lie to satisfy your brother.
“It’s kind of a code, you know? He’s Yuri’s ex and she really loved him and I don’t want to ruin my friendship over something I’m not sure is worth it anyway.” And with that, you see Jungkook’s jaw clench. He knows about Yuri and the manager; they were merely a fling, so he knows you’re lying.
“How do you know it’s not worth it if you haven’t even tried?” Jimin asks, incredulous.
“I don’t know, it’s just… Yuri’s my friend and I don’t wanna mess up a friendship.”
“Seems like you don’t trust your friendship with Yuri enough, then,” Jimin states like it’s a fact. This hits your more than it should. Do you really not trust in your relationship with your own brother? Surely you have a basis to be hesitant, but if it only it were that simple.
Jimin picks up on your silence and asks again. “How are you and the guy like? Do you have moments with him?”
“Lots of them,” you say, your eyes finding Jungkook just on the other side of the couch and he’s never felt farther away.
“And for the first time it’s like I get to savor them. Whether it’s something sweet that he does, or if we’re just together in silence, or when he’s being flirty,” and you don’t see it but Jungkook catches you smiling at the thought and god does he wish you’re lying about this one unless it’s about him. He wishes it is.
“Sounds like a keeper if he gets you to enjoy moments, don’t you think? For someone like you?” Jimin says, cocking an eyebrow.
“Like me?”
“You think too much, you know? You plan, you analyze, you manage risks… I mean, yeah sure they help I guess but this isn’t a job, ___. There’s no profit to be earned here, no losses,” he points out.
“The only loss is you missing out on something good because you’re too focused on what could happen, and not what’s actually happening, right now.” He's told you a variation of this before, but somehow this hits differently, and more than it should.
“Did you teach that to Jungkook, too?” You ask, a smile creeping up and you digress because you need anything to stop you from walking to Jungkook and holding him close to you.
“No, he taught me that,” Jimin states. “I know it seems like I teach him a lot - well, all I really told him was to never let anybody dictate what he wants and deserves in life, and I stand by that, but to be clear,” Jimin turns to you, “I learn just as much from him. He’s his own self; nobody tells him what to do.”
It’s all meant to be assuring, comforting even, if only Jimin knew. And if only it were that simple. The tension is suffocating but your brother breathes easy. You love him more than you can ever say and his happiness has meant more to you than you ever imagined. You just wish your own didn’t come at a cost.
**
A few days later, Jungkook is back at your place and you had quite the reflective week and opted to stay in your room.
Some days you just want to bask in your own thoughts; absorbing yourself in your own emotions helps in figuring out what to do, you’ve realized. You’re still a thinker and a planner - that’s probably never gonna change - but you’re starting to at least let yourself feel and enjoy the now, or something like it. You just wish the person you want to spend your now with hasn’t changed his mind.
It’s almost midnight when you decide to head out, your early dinner long digested and you feel hunger creeping in.
You exit your room and stop in your tracks at the sight of Jungkook in your kitchen, all alone. You definitely weren’t ready for this.
“Oh, I didn’t know you were still here,” and you regret it immediately, not wanting to sound disappointed.
He looks up, alarmed at your presence because he wasn’t expecting this, too.
“Jimin fell asleep on me but don’t worry, I was just about to leave,” he responds, eyes not meeting yours.
“He’s also gonna be coming over my place now since he’s able. Don’t want you to feel like a prisoner in your own home,” he says, motioning to your room where you’ve been hiding recently.
“Since you’re avoiding me and all,” he continues, and you don’t miss the hurt look on his face.
You mentally give yourself a pep talk because you definitely want him to still come around and you’re definitely being stupid.
“I… I wasn’t avoiding you,” you say, blocking his way by the couch as he’s about to reach for his jacket.
He stops in front of you, ensuring some distance. “Yeah, I guess. I mean, you were just not minding me and making sure you stayed as far away from me as possible.” He’s trying to sound bitter but you’re his weakness and he will always go soft on you because his tender eyes are definitely not a match to his bitter words.
“I just didn’t know what to do. You didn’t exactly say what you felt and—“
“I kissed you, ___,” he says, tone suppressing frustration.
“I told you I needed you, wanted you. And you kissed me back. The way you looked at me that day, the way you held me… it meant more, I could feel it. So I don’t know how you could just act like none of that happened, like it didn’t matter,” he continues.
“Jungkook… you’re my brother’s bestest friend. And he’s very protective of his friends, of you.”
And it’s ironic, Jungkook thinks, how Jimin is the reason why you two had met, got close; how Jimin’s what got you together but is also who’s keeping you apart.
“He’s also the one who constantly reminds me to go for what I want, to never let anybody tell me what to do,” Jungkook says.
“Yeah but this is different. I don’t want anything to come in between you two, the same way I don’t want anything to come in between him and me.”
“So it’s okay for him to come in between us? You really think he’d be okay with that? That he’d keep the two people he loves the most from being together? From being happy?”
And you hate that he’s right.
“What Jimin is to us is out of our control,” he states. “But that shouldn’t be why we can’t try, right? Because god I’ve wanted you since I was 15 and and I’ve waited too long for this and I’d either fight for us or keep us a secret, I don’t care. Just don’t lie to me, please.”
By now he’s standing in front of you and he could pin you against the armrest if he wanted to but he’s keeping his hands to himself, fists clenched at the control he’s trying to maintain because of his intense feelings for you. He’d make you feel it all too, if you just let him.
You can move away if you wanted; there’s space for it. But you don’t. Jungkook bared everything to you, braving through just to be with you; the least you could do is be honest. So with your own strength, you look up at him.
“You made me fall for the moments, Jungkook. You made me fall for you, and there were so many things to consider and I—“
Your rear hits the armrest, as you’d reflexively walked back as he started to move towards you, slowly eliminating the distance. His arms, sandwiching you, are propped on the couch to support his spread out frame, his face now level with yours. You’re burning with how he’s looking at you with so much hope and yearning.
“Go on,” he says, voice low, his eyes wandering all over your face and you feel your heat dampen with just his gaze.
“I didn’t know what to do with what I’d started to feel for you because you were off-limits but that didn’t keep me from wanting you and—“
His lips graze the side of your neck and with your breath hitching, he proceeds. Open-mouth kisses trail your neck, with just enough wetness and just enough heat to leave you wanting more. You angle your neck for more access and he smirks at this.
“And what?” He urges you, mouth focusing on the other side of your neck now, head nudging yours to adjust.
“And I avoided you because—“
You grip the couch for support, as you unravel with his hot breath on your skin.
“That seemed easier than to keep at what we were doing knowing that—“
He licks a sensitive part by your ear and your strangled moan spurs him on.
“I couldn’t have you the way I wanted to.”
At this, he stops.
He focuses his gaze on you again. Jungkook holds onto the tiniest shred of self-control he has left just so he can savor you like this, emotions unraveling and your body falling apart before him.
“How exactly do you want me?”
You steady your breath and as much as you want to give in to your carnal desire and attack his lips, you want him to know how much this means to you. You’re still scared but being with Jungkook steadies you, makes it all feel worth it.
You’re crossing this line now, and you’ll stick with him whether you’ll both come clean or keep it a secret. He wants you enough right now; you’ll figure out what to do eventually.
Your hand finds his face and fingers trace the scar on his cheek. You let yourself drown in his beautiful eyes, knowing on clear nights you could see galaxies like this.
“I want you close, Jungkook. I want you to hold me, when I’m sad, happy, confused. I want to hold you that way, too. I want to savor every moment, let you know everyday what you mean to me.”
Your featherlight touches on his jaw send shivers all over his body and he hums at the sensation. You caress his lips before he could bite them again, palming him with your thumb and feeling its softness.
“I want you to fall apart under my touch, want to make you feel good, kiss you like it’s always the last time.”
Jungkook thinks he deserves a prize for how well he’s keeping himself together and not yet taking you on this couch like his dick is telling him to. But he needed to hear all that, needed to look in your eyes while you said them.
Then you smile at him, eyes filled with desire, and that’s all it takes for him to lose his resolve and plunge into you, your plush lips against his soft ones, melding together again like a literal dream. He straightens his stance so his hands can cup your face and he feels you smile in the kiss, relishing in the care and attention he’s giving.
It starts tenderly then quickly turns heated, his eager hands trailing down your arms and waist, and your own entangling his hair, pulling the strands as he nips your lips, prompting them to open.
Your tongues explore each other’s mouths, his lingering taste of rootbeer somehow making him more addictive. You swallow each other’s sounds, both of you still having half a mind to tone down, knowing that only a wall separates your wanton moans and your sleeping brother.
His grip around you tightens and you pull him closer, your hands now around his neck, fingers thumbing his cheeks and you’re losing yourself to him, as the past few months of undeniable attraction and sexual tension climaxing at this moment where you finally give in to what you’ve been trying to suppress.
Jungkook, on the other hand, feels a sense of calm even with his hard dick and his thumping heart because he’s dreamed of this, dreamed of you, and you’re here wanting him, too. All the memories of watching you from afar, blushing at how beautiful you are, missing you when you were away, heart breaking at how happy you were with someone else, fly by him like a movie because he’s got his ending - you.
He’s lived for moments most of his life and always knew to savor them, to bask in them because he doesn’t know when he’ll get to have those again. But nothing comes close to right now with you and he decides to make sure he’ll have you like this everyday.
Both your actions continue, hands stationary but mouths eagerly moving against each other, stopping momentarily for air but smiling, laughing in the kiss.
You give in first, fingers slowly trailing down to graze at his chest and he shivers, curses mid-kiss and you giggle, and he’s on cloud 9 again, realizing he can hear the beautiful sound that is your laughter everyday.
Suddenly it’s all thoughts of what’s ahead for both of you, imagining what that would be like - feeling, holding, touching each other. You’re both so lost in your little world, minds traveling from now to tomorrow and it’s exciting, so incredibly alluring to be savoring this moment but also thinking about the next.
You’re light-headed now because kissing him is like a drug, soothing yet exhilarating at the same time and you’re aching to feel him. “Jungkook…” You whine.
And then.
“HOLY SHIT,” you hear a gasp.
Your eyes burst open and you feel Jungkook stiffen before you try to push him away. You both stull, looking at each other, some distance now between you, and you can hear a pin drop with how quiet it is, the tension so thick that you’re afraid to move.
You knew at one point you’re gonna have to tell Jimin but not now and definitely not in the middle of a fucking make-out session.
“Is this a hookup or are you both finally out of your asses and would actually like to properly date because god knows it’s about time?”
You and Jungkook slowly turn to the side, eyes wide at your brother who’s leaning by the wall, checking his nails as if he didn’t just give you a heart attack.
“WHAT?” You ask.
“Jungkook’s been into you since forever but never had the fucking guts to do anything.” Jimin sighs and rolls his eyes at the man. “You’re not exactly subtle with your staring.”
Jungkook can’t seem to wrap his head around what's happening because his mouth keeps moving but no sound comes out.
“Neither are you,” Jimin eyes you this time. “You forget I’m good with reading people. And also, I’m friends with Yuri. She doesn’t even remember that guy,” he laughs because of course they’re friends. You feel so stupid; you should’ve known he was trying to catch you in a lie when he asked if your sulking was because of a “guy.”
“So you’ve always known?” Jungkook finally finds his voice.
“About you, duh. She’s recent,” Jimin points to you. “It’s like, one moment you’re friendly then you’re flirty then it’s like you can’t stand each other. Get your shit together, people. I’m literally right here.”
God, you and Jungkook were definitely not subtle. And underestimated your brother, too.
“So you’re not mad?” You confirm.
“No.”
“But… you said you were gonna cut my dick off,” Jungkook stammers.
“And you told me to keep off your friends because of Taemin,” you add. “You stopped being friends because of me,” you remind him, voice almost a whisper.
Jimin takes a deep breath because now he has to come clean.
“We stopped being friends because of him. He hurt you, ___, and you didn’t deserve that,” he admits, avoiding your questioning gaze. “I heard you crying to Jin about what happened and I got angry and wanted you to stay away from my friends because they were all assholes.” He continues, jaw clenched at the memory. “Well, except for him,” he cocks his head towards Jungkook.
“He was the only good guy. I never really minded if he went for you because... iknowhe’lltreatyouwellandyoudeservethat,” Jimin says.
And you’re not gonna lie, you feel like crying. Jimin’s been trying to protect you all this time.
Jungkook, on the other hand, isn’t taking this all too well.
“You said you were gonna cut my dick off…” He says again, tone low and unbelieving.
“That didn’t stop you, did it?” Jimin counters, earning him a sigh of defeat because he has a point.
“I just wanted it to happen naturally,” he explains. “I mean, I didn’t plan on getting heartbroken, injured, unemployed, then homeless all at once but it happened and you both helped me and that unintentionally brought you together and I…”
He turns to you both. “I realized how good you are together. Not just in taking care of me but in taking care of each other, too.”
By this time, Jungkook has found his feet and is back to standing in front of you, his hand intertwining with yours. You let out a laugh because this whole time, Jimin wasn’t in the dark. But then again, he’s a smart ass too and would’ve figured it out.
And would also push it. “I actually got over Taehyung months ago so like, I’ve been okay for a while,” he shrugs.
And just like that, he gets on your nerves again because that’s how he’s been getting his way, by reminding you of his “broken heart that’s still hurting.”
“You little bitch! Do you also have a new apartment now and you’re not telling me?!” You shriek, and Jungkook next to you is finally laughing.
“Oh no,” Jimin responds. “I’m really still homeless.”
And he smiles his sickly sweet smile and you can’t help but mirror it. Your brother is really something, and you don’t know what you’d do without him.
Some seconds pass and you’re just all basking in this moment because for the first time in months, it really feels like things are looking out for all of you.
“So in that case,” Jungkook turns to you. “Would you like to go on a date with me?” Hopeful eyes staring at you, a weight off his shoulder now that he doesn’t need to hide anything from his best friend. He can just focus on falling in love with you and making you do the same.
“Yes,” you excitedly reply, hand trailing down his chest again. “And in that case, would you like to continue this in my bedroom?”
Jungkook feels his dick twitch. “Fuck, yes.”
“Guess I’m gonna have to sleep on the couch now,” Jimin groans, but you don’t miss his playful tone. “You’re both welcome, idiots.”
**
You’re pushed to the wall right as the door closes and Jungkook’s lips meet yours immediately. It tastes much sweeter knowing there’s no need to hide, to be careful. It’s liberating and it’s making you feel more.
He kisses you harshly as his hands make quick work of your shirt, pulling them off then slowly kneeling down in tandem with his mouth sucking, licking, and kissing down to your breasts, then your torso, causing your chest to heave at the pleasure from just his mouth.
His hands aggressively pull down your bottoms and his tongue finds your clit before you can even process his action. He’s nibbling your bud and laving at your lips and pumping his fingers in you all at once, you don’t know where to focus.
You feel the desperation and intensity with every move, the sensation overwhelming and eliciting lewd sounds from you. He alternates between moaning and cursing on your cunt and that just adds to the pleasure.
“Eager, aren’t we?” You ask with a smirk.
“You have no idea,” he responds, head buried between your thighs, one of which is currently resting on his shoulder. “Some of my wet dreams may have been because of you.”
“What the fuck Jungkook!”
“I was a growing boy with raging teen hormones!” He says in between breaths. But he doesn’t relent. Fingers curling in your hole, tongue swirling on your clit, and hand squeezing your ass, he’s determined to make you cum now, and with a hard suck, you do.
You jerk away at the oversensitivity with his mouth still on you and you pull him up to give him a kiss, tasting yourself on him.
At the sight of you bare, eyes half-lidded and steadying breath, he stills.
“Is everything okay?” You ask.
“Yeah I just…” He starts, stepping back a bit, and his eyes roam your body, smile creeping up his face. “I never thought I’d get to have you like this. I always admired you from afar and you always felt so out of reach and I…”
“Jungkook,” you stop him.
“I’m here with you right now, barely any distance. I’m not your best friend’s sister, okay?” Your hand reaches out to him and he takes it, let’s you pull him closer. “I’m the girl you like whom you’ll take out on a date after you fuck her senseless. Got it?”
“Y-yeah,” he stammers, a shy laugh escaping him.
You kiss him softly. “No need to admire me from a distance anymore. You have me, right here.”
“Okay.”
And before he can attack you again, you lead him towards your bed. Your fingers pull the waistband of his sweats as you sit on the edge and look up at him, wide eyes eager for something.
“Shirt off,” you say, and he follows.
Your eyes meet your hands that are slowly ridding him of his remaining clothing and you swear you could come again at the sight of the tiger lily tattoo resting on his hip. It curves with his semi-defined v-line, the stem trailing downward, like some pathway to his throbbing dick that’s leaking with some pre-cum.
You take him in your hands and he bucks at the feel of your soft skin around his length that’s aching to be inside you. Your eyes stay on the tattoo; something about it is so hot and you kiss it, lips then exploring the expanse of his hip and up to the part of his torso that you can reach, feeling the ridges of his definitely smooth abs, now tensing at the sensation.
All the while, your hand is stroking his member, up and down as you continue kissing and licking his pelvis and just like this, he already tastes so good. He grunts with your ministrations, head falling back at the intense pleasure. His hands fall to your hair as you take him in, tongue traversing his dick and your heat clenches at the salty taste of cum and the feel of his veins as his shaft twitches in your mouth.
At the vibration caused by your moan, he stops you, removes himself from you and then lays half your body down on the edge of the bed.
“My turn,” he says smugly.
You’re about to protest but he swirls his tongue all over your cunt again, the pad of his thumb flicking your nub and you moan his name instead. You haven’t fully recovered from your first orgasm yet but he seems determined to give you another one. He’s eating you like a man starved, as if he plans to slurp you dry.
“More, Jungkook,” you breathe out, then he’s pumping his dick and thrusting into you, the stretch just a tad bit painful but so, so good.
He quickly adjusts, spreads your legs open for his easy access and the view, and he growls at the supple flesh that's taking him so well. It’s so erotic, watching himself go in and out of you like this, then hearing your deliciously hypnotic moans louden as his hands start kneading your breasts like it’s some dough he’s molding to his liking, his fingers flicking the hardened nipples.
“You feel so fucking heavenly, ___,” he pants. “Fuck, fuck. Can’t believe you’re mine.”
“All yours, Kook,” you respond, delirious now because his movements are really sending you to another dimension. “Fuck me harder,” you beg, and he follows.
He adjusts again, flushing your legs against you and the angle in which his dick hits your sweet spot causes your eyes to roll to the back of your head.
You’re screaming expletives and it’s just urging him to go harder, deeper, faster, his sweat trickling down his temples and forming on his chest.
“Cum for me, baby. I need to feel you,” he huffs.
He’s in a frenzied state and he’s losing himself in you, his mouth now parted and he joins your filthy wails, which are in tune with the sound of skin slapping on skin.
You feel your body spasm and you call out his name before you give in, heart stopping for a moment and he feels the stream of your cum coat his dick that’s just savoring this a bit more.
But you clench and it’s all it takes, his own seed spurting in you and your back arches as he comes down from his high by languidly kissing your breasts, one hand around your lifted waist and the other, intertwining your hand.
“Fuck, you feel so good. So much better than I imagined,” he utters, sounding so winded at the intensity of his orgasm.
He’s too tired to even move, body now resting on top of you, chest heaving and bated breaths escaping him. You massage his head and he moans even at that and you laugh but soften at the intimacy of it all.
He finally gets himself off you and you chuckle as he sneakily opens the door and tiptoes to the bathroom, careful not to be caught naked by your brother. He returns with a wet towel, wipes you, then lays next to you, his arm secured around your waist.
He’s smiling so fondly, lips now peppering kisses all over your face. “You’re stuck with me,” he states.
“Nowhere I'd rather be,” you reply, your own soft kiss now turning greedy again, and you think it’s gonna be a long night.
**
You wake up tired but you’re not complaining. It was quite the evening, after all, and you’re reminded by the fluff of grey hair adorning your chest. Jungkook likes to cuddle, you’ve learned, and he couldn’t sleep without a part of his body touching you.
You release from his hold and head to the kitchen after washing up, not expecting your brother to already be eating his cereal.
“Oh my god, can you wear shorts?” He huffs.
“Bitch, you’re in my apartment,” you bite back, laughing at the face he makes.
Your front is to the counter when Jungkook approaches and unlike before, heads to you, arms wrapped around your waist from behind and places a kiss on your cheek. “Good morning.”
His voice is hoarse and you hold back a moan because it just brings you back to last night when after you came the second time, he fucked you softly for your third, then fucked you hard for your fourth, then softly again this morning for your (extended) fifth. God, this man will be the death of you.
He nuzzles your neck and you giggle.
“Manners, you two. You’re like teenagers,” Jimin scowls.
“Well, I am living my teenage dream,” Jungkook announces.
Jimin grimaces but softens at the look of his two favorite people looking so happy. “Okay, this is gonna take some getting used to.”
You and Jungkook playfully nod in agreement.
“Also,” he turns to Jungkook who’s now managed to tear away from you. “Are you gonna be here again tonight because you know, I kinda wanna sleep on a bed and all. Couch is great but like, no.”
“You better find your own place soon if you don’t want to keep sleeping there every night,” you reply smugly.
“Okay, now gross!” Jimin, dramatic as always, pretend-gags at the implication. “I’m gonna look for places. Jungkook, you’re still my best friend. We’re going apartment hunting tomorrow.”
“But…” You start.
“No. Nuh-uh. You had him last night and you’re going out on a date today. You need to share my best friend.”
And you all laugh at him throwing a tantrum. He and Jungkook start to bicker and you walk towards your room to grab shorts because it really is awkward when your brother is there.
The doorbell rings as you’re about to walk back and you open the door, a surprised look on your face.
“Hi, is Jimin there?” The person asks.
**
You head back to the kitchen, your guest in tow and you call out to your brother.
“Chim, someone’s looking for you.”
Jimin looks up and almost falls off the chair.
“Taehyung?” He says, trying to mask the nervous tone of his voice. “I…”
“I have something to confess,” Taehyung cuts him off, eyes nervous but hopeful. “Can we, uhm, maybe talk somewhere else?”
Jimin nods and quickly follows him out.
You walk back to Jungkook and he tugs you close, hands back to your waist. “What’s that about?”
You bite back an excited squeal as you think back to what Taehyung told you at the door.
“Let’s just say, you might not need to help Jimin look for an apartment anymore,” you respond.
Jungkook smiles and pulls you in for a hug, reveling in this absolutely perfect moment.
“You Park siblings drive me crazy, you know that? And you two make me so damn happy.”
##
masterlist
#jungkook#jungkook fic#jungkook x reader#jungkook smut#jungkook fluff#jungkook angst#brother's best friend#hold me close#oneshot#mine
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Naive (3)
Masterlist
Pairing: demon!Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader
Summary: You pick up on the lies in Wanda’s life and she decides to show you the truth.
Warnings: 18+ ONLY, dark!fic, demon things™️, more hints at dom/sub because I’m a whore for demon!Wanda
A/N: I can’t believe that it’s been a month since I posted the last one 😭 I have some things planned for the next part and so on but I also kinda wanna take requests again??? idk we all know how I get overwhelmed easily with that so we’ll see what happens there. anyway tell me your thoughts on this please!
Previous part
Waking up feels like gasping for air after being trapped underwater. You aren’t sure how long you were asleep, but the mid afternoon traffic quickly alerts you of how much of the day has passed.
Despite your head feeling like it’s made of cement, you manage to stand up, slipping off thin pajamas as you walk into the bathroom and stop at the mirror. Your skin seems tender in places and you’re a little bit startled when there isn’t a single indication of the bite marks and scratches you feel, even after rubbing your eyes a few times and turning in every direction possible. Deciding to let it go for now, you reach for the shower stall to turn on the water, detouring to the bedroom instead when you hear your phone ringing.
“Hello?”
“You didn’t save my number, did you?”
“Wanda?” You pull the phone away long enough to quickly clear your throat. “I mean hey, Wanda! What makes you think I didn’t save your number?”
“You answered like you didn’t know who was going to be on the other end.”
“Okay, you caught me,” you admit after a moment of silence. “I promise I’ll save it as soon as we hang up. Anyway, what’s up?”
“Remember that pet adoption center you pointed out to me?” You acknowledge her with a hum. “I was thinking about getting a cat…Wanna tag along?”
“Absolutely! I was just about to shower though so I can be ready in an hour or so.”
“Perfect! I’ll text you when I’m outside.”
The two of you say your goodbyes and you keep your promise of saving her number, typing in her name and hesitating on the emoji keyboard. Realizing you’d spent far too much time contemplating this, you simply save what you have and hurry back to the bathroom, something in your brain urging you to not keep her waiting.
-
Within an hour, she sends you a text in all caps and a smiley face that tells you she’s arrived, and you can’t hide the fact that you’re surprised when you come outside and she’s waiting on the passenger side of the car.
“Hey! How are you?” she greets cheerily as she approaches you with a hug, and you shiver when her hand touches your lower back. “Are you cold?”
“No, I’m okay.” You smile and thank her when she opens the door for you, attempting to collect yourself as she crosses to the driver’s side again. “I’m really happy to see you again.”
“You are?”
“Yeah,” you admit quietly as she pulls away from the curb. “Is that such a bad thing?”
“No no, I just didn’t want to assume you were enjoying our time together as much as I was.”
She places her hand over yours while she glances at you, smiling as she squeezes your fingers and thigh lightly. You feel a rush of something traveling from the places she touched to your brain, only slightly aware of the fog settling in your mind.
“Well I didn’t want to be too enthusiastic about it and scare you away if all you wanted was friendship,” you clarify, meeting her eyes when she reaches a red light.
“I suppose you’re looking for more too, then.”
“I am now.”
The light turns green and she breaks eye contact, but the little smirk that follows tells you everything you need to know. At least, you hope it does.
-
“I think he’s the cutest one we’ve seen yet,” you comment about the kitten that hasn’t looked away from Wanda since you approached his area. “He seems really drawn to you, too.”
“How did he get the name ‘Baby Satan’?” Wanda inquires with an employee, who approaches you with a chuckle.
“It’s actually Baby Stan, because we used to have an adult cat named Stan as well and needed to tell the two apart. We were going to give him a new name but decided to leave that up to his new family.”
“It says ‘Baby Satan’ though,” you cosign with Wanda, gesturing to the extra A mixed in with the magnetic letters that spell the kitten’s name.
“Oh, I’m so sorry! I don’t know how that got there,” the employee apologizes as she reaches over to fix the sign, and you watch her freeze as Wanda touches her arm.
“Don’t be sorry. Keep it; I want to adopt him.”
“Okay, right this way,” the employee mumbles as she turns awkwardly and stumbles over to a desk, and as the two of you follow her, you look back to see Baby Satan still staring at the woman beside you.
“What was that about?” you speak up finally once you’re in the car with her new furry friend, and Wanda frowns at you while fastening her seatbelt.
“What?”
“Why did that employee react to you like that? You touched her and she started acting really weird after.”
“Oh, Kim’s fine!” she assures you as she fixes her mirror before pulling out of the parking lot. “I actually asked her about that while you were looking at scratching posts and she said I’d overstepped her boundaries and made her uncomfortable. Don’t worry, I apologized and everything’s good again.”
“She told you her name?”
“She was wearing a name tag, babe.”
Babe...that’s new. Still, the sudden nickname doesn’t completely distract you from the fact that you’re certain there was no name tag on Kim’s uniform. You’re debating with yourself about bringing this up when you notice her heading toward Lane County.
“Are you taking me to your house?”
“Yeah, if you don’t mind.” She glances at you and over her shoulder toward Baby Satan before turning back to the road. “I figured I could introduce both of my kittens to the place they’ll be spending a lot of time in.”
Her fingers brush over your knee as “my kittens” leaves her lips, and you’re almost embarrassed when your hips involuntarily buck slightly. Noticing the small change in your behavior, she takes advantage of your head turned toward your own window and allows her instincts to continue driving while she stares at you, placing her palm on your thigh and rubbing circles on the fabric covering it that brings her closer and closer to your core.
“Home, sweet home,” Wanda announces as she pulls her wandering hand away to park the car, jumping out a second later and grabbing her furry son from the backseat. “Hey there, Baby S.”
You step out of the car in a similar fashion of pulling yourself out of a swimming pool, taking in the fresh air and trying to relax yourself as you follow her into the apartment building. The hallways reflect the quiet and clean neighborhood as you make your way into the elevator and up to the 6th floor, suddenly entering the most empty apartment you’ve ever seen.
Of course there’s furniture: a couch with a TV mounted on the nearest wall, a dining table with a set of matching chairs, a few stools placed at the island and kitchen appliances that are shiny and new. But there isn’t any personal artwork, posters, books or even just a lamp that you could tell Wanda purchased herself with one glance.
“Are you staying in an AirBNB or something?” you ask as she carefully places Baby Satan’s carrier next to the couch, and she chuckles.
“I guess technically it was one before I moved in, but I’ve been here for two years.”
“Okay...so where are your pictures?”
“What?”
“Where are your pictures?” you repeat, maintaining a steady voice despite the expression she gives you as she faces you again. “Pictures of your family, friends, you as a child?”
“If you knew my family, you’d understand why you don’t see them here.” She startles you by practically growling her words but you press further.
“Okay but you also said you love plants and we’re the only living things in here.” You step back to put more space between you while quiet shuffling noises are heard inside the carrier. “What’s really going on here?”
You can easily spot the shift in Wanda’s emotions: going from defensive, arms crossed and eyes glaring to resigned with slightly sagging shoulders and a defeated sigh.
“Fine, you got me.” She bends over to pick up the carrier again and passes you on her way to the door, stopping a few feet away. “If you’re serious about pursuing a relationship with me, then I should probably show you my real home.”
“I don’t know...”
“Come on, love.” She comes just close enough to bring your hand into hers and a tingle spreads through your body, causing you to pull away but her grip only tightens. “I promise I’m not going to hurt you, and this is the only time I’ve lied.”
You find yourself being drawn closer to her, and an almost familiar feeling washes over you when her thumb begins rubbing gentle circles into your jaw. The metal on her ring is so cold it almost burns upon contact, yet you nuzzle into her more with each pass along your skin.
“Don’t you want to be good for me without being forced to your knees first?”
If the fog surrounding your consciousness wasn’t so thick, you might’ve been shocked by this side of her, so calm yet demanding you serve her. But the hand on your jaw seemed to cover every inch of your body and sink into your nervous system, forcing you to fall into her and let her lead you back to the car with a simple arm around your waist. You’re buckled into the passenger seat again and a slightly blurry grin greets you from behind the wheel seconds later.
“I can’t wait to make you mine.”
Your head falls against the car window as she drives to the edge of Lane County, and your altered vision picks up on businesses turning into isolated suburbs into grassy fields into forests. You travel along narrow, winding roads past the tallest of trees with very few spaces in between, and your hazy state of mind prevents you from panicking when Wanda turns onto a dirt path that doesn’t even seem to be safe for bicycles. The wheels bump along the forest floor until she comes to a stop just outside of a two foot dwelling, similar to a cave.
Once the two of you are out of the car again, she holds your hand with her free one until you reach the cave, instructing you to sit in front of it while she does the same. She places her palm on the door, and her rings seem to come alive as they interact with it for a few moments before it swings open and the three of you are sent flying through a tunnel. You land with a groan on the hard floor and dust yourself off as you carefully stand, any questions dying in your throat as you face Wanda again, now standing before you in her true form.
“Welcome home.”
#wanda maximoff#wanda maximoff x reader#dark!wanda maximoff x reader#avengers x reader#marvel x reader#frosty's dark!fics
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Sweet Almost Goodbye
Xiao x Fem!Reader
Tags: Angst to Fluff
Sumary: Xiao had no plans to ever have a family of his own. Finding out that you are pregnant with his baby set him on edge, unsure. He's not ready.
~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~
How are you suppose to tell him?
The news brought shock and surprise to you, it made you a bit excited and nervous.
What would Xiao think?
How will he take the news?
The thought of what his reaction may be formed a pit in your stomach. There you were, going up by the elevator of Wangshu Inn, as the sun was setting.
The closer you get to your destination, the uneasiness grew. What would happen if he lashes out? What would happen if he asked you to leave?
With a sigh, you walked up the stair that would lead to where your lover usually stays.
As you looked upon the view that the balcony provided, you saw that the sun was no longer visible, the stars starting to show up.
"You've arrived." Your heart swell at the voice of your lover, a smile forming on your face. Looking back at him, he eagerly walked up to you and greeted you with a gentle hug.
The first few weeks of your relationship was quite awkward, back then he could not even hold your hand without being as stiff as a board.
"Can I hug you?"
"I don't think that's necessary."
"But... I really want to."
"I am... not familiar with mortal rituals. I would not be the best for those kind of activities."
"Pfft... It's just a hug, Xiao. Plus you do these 'mortal rituals' with people you love. Now come here, silly Yaksha."
And surely enough, your first hug was not very comfortable, but it was a moment you would never forget.
Pulling away from the hug, you sighed heavily. Xiao did of course noticed the change in your attitude.
Where is that bubbly, cheerful, all smiles Y/N that he has grown to love?
Something must be off.
You looked down, how do you start off?
The silence filled the atmosphere with tension. Your hands started to shake.
"You seem like you're not yourself today." Xiao had broken the silence, something he usually doesn't do.
Looking up into his eyes, you grabbed both his hands in yours. "There's this very important thing that I need to tell you." Your grip on him tightened, hoping for him not to disappear.
His face showed confusion and somewhat worry, the look on your face told him that the matter was serious.
"You know how lovers would slowly grow? How they would be faced with many things and challenges in life together?" You started, not knowing exactly what to say. Through his confusion, he nodded.
"Well.... we may be going through one of those things." You whispered in a hushed tone. He didn't get it.
Was something wrong?
Has something happened that would affect your relationship?
"Xiao..." You silently called out his name.
"I'm... well..." You felt his hand squeeze yours, silently telling you to just say it.
"I'm pregnant."
He let go of your hands immediately, and your heart ached at his action.
Oh no...
He let out a chuckle. Slightly backing away, looking at you with an expression that had your eyes swelling with unshed tears.
"S-surely this has to be a joke." Xiao said in a quiet voice.
'What was that supposed to mean?' His words sent needles to your heart.
"We're gonna have a baby, Xiao." You said stepping closer to him, but he raised his hand, telling you to stop.
You held your hands to your chest, your heart pounding so fast. "It means that our love has blossomed."
"No." Xiao turned his back on you. "I didn't.... I didn't want this."
"X-xiao?" You stuttered, he surely didn't mean that right? He loves you, you loves him. Sure it wasn't expected, but you promised yourself to welcome your baby with open arms, teach them, show them the good in the world, love them with all your heart.
"I never wanted to start a family." He looked back at you, frustration in his eyes. "I thought that it would just be you and me. I didn't want a... a burden!" His words shocked you, a mix of emotion swirled inside you, pain, frustration, dissapointment.... anger.
How dare he say that about your baby?!
"Xiao, this is your child your talking about!" Tears started to fall from your eyes, staining your cheeks. "Why would you say that?!"
No, it doesn't matter how much you love him, he doesn't get to say those things about your baby. You believed that your baby is special, and you're not going to stand for the bastard you love to tell you that they are nothing but a burden.
"How could you?!" You stomped closer to him, your hands balled into a fist. "Here I thought that you are so amazing. That you're not the murderer that you claimed yourself to be."
You let put a sob.
"But no!"
You punched his chest.
"You don't deserve to be loved!"
Punch.
"You don't deserve to be happy!"
Punch
"You don't deserve a family that will love you."
You throw a weak puch at his chest, letting more of your tears fall as you sobbed.
He held you wrists pushing you back a bit to look up at him with your glossy eyes. What hurt even more is that he seemed unfazed, unaffected.
"I don't need you to tell me what I don't deserve. You're right, I don't deserve those things." He calmly said, letting go of your wrists. "And I... would feel at ease if you just leave." Before you could even respond, he vanished, leaving you to break down onto the floor, covering your mouth to silence your sobs.
He left you with tears and a broken heart.
2 Months Later
Your mother has been very helpful in taking care of you and your baby. Giving you tips and advice for a healthy pregnancy. You now stayed your parents' house in Qingce Village, a more quieter place than the Harbour.
You had told her of what happened between you and your 'previous lover' two months ago, crying into her arms as she saw you on your heartbroken state. Your father was not at all happy with Xiao's wrong doings towards you.
But you reassured your parents that it no longer matters, what matters now is your baby being well taken care of. And with that, you must take care of yourself as well. So no thinking about that Adeptus bastard.
In Wangshu Inn however, Xiao has felt that your departure has left a hole in his heart, everyday, every night alone on the balcony of the Inn, the place that you two once shared as a place to openly be together and express your love towards each other.
He would sometimes look at the guests of the Inn at the ground floor. He would see families spending time together, all smiles and happiness. Is that what it's like to have a family?
Sure, family comes with it's problems and such. But... it's family, people that will be your home and happiness.
Verr Goldet has noticed that you no longer go to the Inn and the Adeptus has grown more melancholic than usual. Something was definitely wrong between that two of you, she would think.
Xiao would look at the view provided by the balcony. He admits that he was looking for you from there, maybe you would come back to him. But he caught no sight of you.
Every time he would go out, he told himself that its to "scare off evil and cleanse the land", but he just used that as an excuse to look for you.
He found you, of course, since you aren't really hiding from him. But, even then, what would he say? Of course he should apologize, but how? He doesn't know any of that stuff.
But he has to make a decision....
"Alright, Y/N. Why don't you have a little rest while your father and I go to the village square?" You just nodded as they exit the house. Some alone time would be nice.
You were standing in front of a full body mirror in your room, shirt rolled up to show your baby bump. You were thinking about names for your baby just earlier. Even though it's gonna be a few months till they're ready, you just find naming them makes you smile.
"How about, if your a girl, I'll name you... Crystal? Or maybe Rose? Or Amethyst!" You laughed a little, seemingly having a conversation with your unborn baby. " But if your a boy... Hmmm...." You caressed your baby bump.
"I haven't thought about anything yet, but I'll tell you when I do, baby." You whispered with a smile.
Then, suddenly a green and black smoke appeared and revealed a person that made your smile drop.
"Y/N" Xiao quietly called out your name, looking at your eyes through the mirror. Sighing, you pulled down your shirt and turned back to face him.
He looked down at your stomach, his heart swelling at imagining that a baby is inside you, your and his baby is inside you.
"Didn't think I'd see you again." You let out a bitter laugh, making the man in front of you wince a little. "What are you doing here?" You asked with a rather harsh tone.
"I mean no harm." He started looking at you with a sense of nervousness within him, your unexpressive gaze made him feel crushed.
"I just want to apologize. And see how you and our baby are doing." He seemed to be hesitant in reaching out to hold you. But you, you were seething, did he just say 'our'?
He acted so childish, so cold and now he came back to apologize and immediately think that all will be fixed.
"Y/N..." You were pulled out of your thoughts by his call, you looked back at him with a glare. "I... love you. So so much." He stepped closer but this time, you raised your hand up and stopped him. "I wasn't ready, I was scared of what's gonna happen." Xiao added.
"I was scared too." Your eyes started to become glossy. "But I thought that you would be there." You looked up to him with your teary eyes, showing him your vulnerability once again. "I was wrong." You shook you head, his features softened and you notice the tears start to form in his eyes as well. "I shouldn't have expected too much. It's for the better we split up rather than stay in a relationship that will no longer contain love."
"If you're here for closure, Xiao. I can assure you that me and my baby will be just fine." You smiled despite the tear that managed to fall out of your eye.
He shook his head, quickly taking a hold of your hands and kneeling onto the floor. "Xiao, what are yo-"
"Please..." He brought your hands to his lips kissing them gently, you felt a few of his tears fall onto your hands. "Please forgive me. I'm truly sorry, my love." He was full on crying. You tried to take your hand back, but he didn't let you.
Still, the thought of you wanting to pull away from him made his heart ache. He didn't wanna let go of your hands. "I'm sorry about everything I said about our baby. I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I'm sorry." He kept repeating over and over. "I'm so stupid! I can just never treasure things that are important to me!" He felt frustrated of himself.
"Xiao, stop!" You demanded, pulling him back up to his feet. Once he looked at you, your heart clenched at the sight of his tear covered face, his hair messier than usual, his eyes held pain and regret.
"W-what exactly do you want?" You stuttered, rubbing your thumb along his knuckles. "D-do you want me to just forgive you... and then you'd walk away?"
He shook his head. "I-i want you." He whispered, coming closer, he hugged you, resting his chin on your shoulder.
"I want our baby." He pulled away, kissing you forehead.
"I want my happiness." Then his kissed your nose.
"I want my family, my everything." He then kissed your lips, the feeling of his soft lips on yours felt refreshing, something you didn't know you missed due to all the other emotions inside you. You both pulled away to catch your breath.
"Please, let me have my family."
"Oh, Xiao..." You caressed his cheek, feeling the wet tears that had fallen from his amber eyes. "We're here, we're your family." You both looked down at your baby bump, both of you smilling.
One Hour Later
As you and Xiao cuddled on the couch together and silently whispered sweet words to one another, the door opened, your parents walking in and were shocked to see the Adeptus and you snuggling.
"Aha! I see that you're the one who broke my babygirl's heart!" Your father exclaimed, much to your surprise.
"Xiao was it. Now I don't care if you two already made up. I'm still gonna talk to you about how to properly treat my baby." You laughed when Xiao let go of you and sat up straight.
You were surprised that he didn't pull the 'no respect for the Adepti' card.
"Papaaaaa." You whined as your father led Xiao into the kitchen to talk.
Your mother sat beside you and looked at your face. "I see that you two have been crying." She caressed your cheek.
"I'm just really happy right now."
#genshin impact x reader#xiao x reader#xiao#genshin impact#genshin xiao#genshin impact xiao#genshin impact angst#genshin impact imagines
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