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taegularities · 4 months

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colour me in: blooming | jjk (m)

Summary: You're the flower blossoming in Jungkook's living room, no matter how relentless the rain. And you're the sun he tirelessly orbits — warm as a home.

➳ pairing: Jungkook x reader ➳ rating: 18+ ➳ genre: fwb/f2l, fake dating; hints of angst, fluff overload, suggestive ➳ warnings: full jk pov!, fluff fluff fluff, but also crying, bits of insecurities, mommy and daddy issues, their friendddsss <3, oc's favourite blanket smells like him <3, his feelings for her are consuming him in a gorgeous way 🥺, grocery shopping 🍏 and then a housewarming party, jk chocolate chip nips appreciation (oc pinches them lol), horniness, implied sex + implied boner, sexual tension, flirting and teasing and bickering, yearning, convos about their relationship/life, cooking together hehe, jk is so… jk, kissing/making out, the ending ♡ ➳ word count: 15.6k ➳ a/n: domesticity is my favourite city and i never wanna leave lol. i've genuinely been enjoying fluff more than i ever thought i would. this chapter made me so damn happy and i hope it has the same effect on you guys, too <3 let me know how you liked it; feedback is always appreciated 🥺 also, there are lil sub-headings to avoid confusion with the timeline!! enjoy!! 🤍 ➳ a/n2: even though i am a tiny bit late… happy birthday @jkaxl. love you so much, axelle <3 ➳ listen to: daylight by taylor swift (ty anon <3) | full collaborative playlist 🤍

SERIES MASTERPOST | TAGLIST MASTERLIST | WIPs

”Are you happy?”

“I’m… I’m adjusting to it all. It’s new. But so far I feel— relieved.”

“Okay.” He pauses. “I’m sorry I didn’t encourage that feeling earlier. But… you know. You found your way on your own, and somehow, I find that just as remarkable. If not so much more.”

“Thank you.”

Silence breaks the dialogue, but there are still shreds of unspoken words he’s not letting out yet. Right on the tip of his tongue, resting quietly; so you wait. Let your weary gaze slump to your lap, blinking until you hear a rustle and a—

“Do you want to come over sometime?”

You don’t know.

So you respond in just that uncertainty, “Maybe at some point? When it’s… not so overwhelming anymore.”

“I understand. Hey,” another break in his speech, “I’m proud of you.”

Your heart suspends for a fraction of a moment, but you feel the seething, searing pain. Fresh, clumping up your throat.

“…Thank you.”

THE SUNDAY AFTER THE PRESS CONFERENCE

When Jungkook locks the door, the apartment is quiet, but the living room light still glowing.

Still fired up and hot, the cool back of his hand pats his warm neck and cheek. Your name threatens to tumble off his tongue, but an oddly calm feeling advises against it. And as he carries his bag into the living room, setting it down next to a big flower pot you so wanted, he sees why.

Because you’re curled up on the couch, temple against the back of it, legs pulled in. Your favourite blanket — that you swear constantly smells like him — is draped half over you, falling off one of your shoulders.

You’re sound asleep.

Jungkook recognises the pout even from afar; lets his eyes drift from your face to the hand peeking out of the blanket. Brushing a piece of paper that is holding on for dear life, attempting not to slip off your lap.

What if he never moved? If he kept staring?

Back in college, one of his dearest professors used to say, “You know it’s art when even blinking feels like a waste of time. You don’t want to spend a second not looking at it.”

That very semester is still a major component of Jungkook’s memory. Ever since, he’s seen a handful and a dozen and a hundred pieces that matched the words once uttered.

Just, never as much as today.

The sky has obscured since he left two hours ago — he wonders how fast that time passed for you. Either way, he reckons you didn’t rest until your body forced you to. Because it’s not anywhere near bedtime; but the changes in your life constantly add to your exhaustion.

He wanted to help. He did all morning before you sent him away, arguing that, “You’re already doing too much. And you hate paperwork anyway!”

To which he expressed, “But I don’t hate you or having you here!”

“Just go!” You reached to his left nipple, poking it, and he, wearing a frisky smirk, instinctively threw a protective hand over it. “The muscles demand your attention desperately. Just don’t look at other girls’ butts, ‘kay?”

He chuckled.

You made it sound like a life-altering goodbye to a year-long journey instead of a brief trip to the gym. He nodded solemnly, nearly saluting as he agreed, “You’re right. Gonna make sure I’m able to crush you extra hard.”

But it seems you crushed and knocked yourself out well enough. And that after he sent out various emails with you, drafting and crafting a battle plan, googling salient issues and their solutions, and writing down lists of everything still left to do before you can actually move in.

The two of you are lucky the landlord is laid-back. Usually, they don’t let anyone move in so quickly; demand a couple months. And you’ll already be settling here officially the very next.

Not that it makes any difference.

You already spend your dusks and dawns here, clinging, reluctant to go home. And he won’t tell you to; he’d be a fool to. Plus, he hates his bed cold.

Jungkook’s steps are slow, muscles painful to the touch. He sweeps his tresses back as he nears your slumbering, balled up form, soon pressing a hand into the arm of the couch. Suppressing a groan, he leans in; frees your closed eye from a lock before he plants a kiss next to it.

You stir with the softest flutter of your eyelashes, just a teeny tiny bit.

God. You tilt his world off its axis.

“Baby,” he whispers.

It must be pulling you out of the remnants of your doze, because your muscles awaken, corners of your lips twitching. The movement of your legs finally pushes the paper off the blanket, and Jungkook hurries to catch it before it can drift to the floor; places it on the table.

He kneels; and for the briefest, smallest moments, you flinch when your pupils eventually align with his. Then, relaxation floods you anew, and you grip the blanket, sliding it back over you — only for it to glide down again.

You smile — a tired beam, accompanied by a sigh. Not quite wide, because you’re not fully there yet, but still so genuine. Stretching a little, you murmur, “You’re back.”

“And you’re still working,” he scolds, albeit cushioning his words by bringing a fingertip to your jaw. Flicking affectionately, softly. “Did you eat?”

“Mhmmm. But it’s—” Your hand taps for something, moving under the blanket; and a second later, you’re lighting up your phone, squinting at it. “It’s not late. Gonna eat with you again. I’m not that tired anymore.”

As if on cue, you yawn, tears of weariness collecting. You interrupt it with a gentle snicker and promise, “I mean it.”

The lopsided smile emerges on his features quickly. The drowsy, vulnerable tone in your voice caresses his heart like a gust… but the meaning behind it doesn’t pass by him so fast.

“Don’t overwork yourself, okay?” he repeats for the fifth time today alone; it’s become a constant habit. A reminder, like clockwork. “The body knows when you do.”

“No. I feel great.”

“Just. Be nice to yourself, munchkin.”

“I am,” you defend, attempting to stress the verb, but not quite getting there, “I am. Don’t worry so much.”

An impossible demand; but how would he explain it to you?

Despite the shake of his head, he still gives in, “Okay. I’ll shower and be back in a sec, yeah?”

He waits for your confirmation until you hum in unintelligible agreement, moving back in to plant a kiss on your forehead. Rushes to the shower, washes off today’s effort.

Wet hair strands pushed back, he finds you shuffling and organising the papers you read and filled in today, placing them neatly in the middle of the table. You look more awake now, delivering a content smile before heading to the kitchen with him.

Only, your mind might not be entirely unfogged yet — because your movements are slow. Different from how he handles the stir fry that the two of you cooked for lunch together.

You were proud of your creation — told Jungkook how you’re still far from the skills he possesses, but not bad to start with and improving every day. Seasoning better, understanding how to cut faster without hurting yourself in the process.

It’s lovely, watching the contentment spread in your eyes.

Yet, Jungkook always makes sure to stand close to your back, hands lifted, persistently ready to salvage the situation if need be.

But right now, judging from your clearly burdened brain, he bestowed a relatively simple task upon you. And you look so cute doing it — bun all messy, shoulders slumped, sporting (after stealing) his joggers since they’re so ridiculously comfortable, so get your own.

He side-eyes you every now and then, forbearing a chuckle; but when your lower lip juts in concentration, he can’t help but sling an arm around your waist. The jug containing the iced tea shakes, and you hold the glass carefully, voicing a little, “Oh— I… Kook.”

You’re wide-eyed and caught off guard; blinking when he tilts his head and leaves a kiss under your ear.

You raise your shoulder at the tickling sensation, and when you call his name again, your voice is reprimanding. But he could pick out the endearment even in his sleep.

That’s how it goes every hour of the day; sweet and new ever since you started frequenting his place even more often than before.

Something has occurred since the press conference. Two days only — but the universe has changed. Maybe it has expanded faster than ever and birthed a couple billion more stars, made even the nights brighter. He doesn’t know.

All he does recognise is that unnamed, newfound feeling spreading in his chest, and he’s been unblurring it. Bit by bit. Letting it take on a form that will soon consume him. He’s sure.

And soon, there’ll be a fitting word and definition matching this phenomenon, too.

It’s triggered by even the smallest things.

Like by the sound of your steps when you walk through the apartment. Or by the way you hum your favourite song all the time, unconsciously; then singing the line you hold dearest to your heart before resuming to the hum.

Trust in me when I say…

Or even… by how you’re facing him an hour later, satiated and cross-legged on the bed as you finish up today’s work.

You’ll have to notify the bank and whatnot of your move soon, so you need to brainstorm the relevant institutions that the new address and information will go to. It shouldn’t take too long; you’re diligent, so you’ll just be noting down all numbers next to the places you need to contact and then crash.

Jungkook soon takes over that task, lips moving as he reads the words, writes them down. And amidst the end-of-the-day chore, you crane your neck to read, and tell him, “You have such pretty handwriting.”

“So do you. I didn’t know you made circles over your lower case I’s,” he looks closer to where you scribbled, tapping the pen against a letter, “and awwh. The curves of the T’s!”

You giggle before you add, “I’ve heard a pretty handwriting symbolises inner beauty, by the way.”

“Ohh, so we’re both beautiful.”

“No doubt. We need to take more pictures… we look great together.”

That’s what’s been filling the hours of these days, too, Jungkook supposes. The airy, light atmosphere within the four walls he’s come to share with you. Laughter and shared glances, despite the stack awaiting you — because it signifies far more than paperwork.

Which is why it surprises him when a subtle switch occurs, suddenly and unannounced.

When he looks at your fingers lifting a paper, he can’t say what you’re seeing, but your ardour falters a little. Crooning dying, expression not matching the smile on the pictures you spoke of.

Delicately, you trace the edges of the document before putting it back down, aligning it with the rest of the pile. Pushing the whole thing to the side, you sigh, and he, a silent observer up to this moment, asks, “What’s wrong?”

“Hm?”

“You’re thinking about something. And I don’t like it when you’re quiet like this.”

“Oh… It’s nothing.” The shrug is subtle and unconvincing, and the tight shutting of your lips so telling to him. He senses the tension before you finally reveal, “Dad called today. And…” He waits; another shrug. “It’s nothing. He just asked how I was holding up. And that he’s sorry things had to escalate on Friday.”

Ah. Odd.

Jungkook would never say it to you: Because he has never been one to talk families down, sever a bond by voicing his opinion, even if the relationship’s already hanging by a thread. No… he’d never say it to you.

But.

There’s a dull realisation in the back of his mind; and it evokes quiet anger in him. That… there was always a potential anchor inhabiting the same house as you, but never serving as one.

Hidden behind your mother’s back, letting it all pass — probably for you to build character.

Jungkook has always assumed that his dad did just that, too. Throwing him into the world without support, letting a seemingly irresponsible teenager, and then young adult, experience hardships in order to learn how to deal with them.

In contrast to your father, his dad wouldn’t apologise to him… yet, in the end, morally and emotionally, both your families fucked up big time.

“Oh…”

You nod, elaborating, “He wanted to know if I was going to visit him. But I need a bit of time.”

Right… thinking about it, you haven’t seen your father in a while. And your mother hasn’t blown up your phone since Friday evening — when you came out of the glass building, with equally glassy yet hopeful eyes.

You truly must have let off steam in there for her to back away.

“Is that why you were saying you’ll be rushing to the house after work?”

Because as far as he recalls, you’ve been talking about gathering your stuff immediately after working hours — or on Saturday mornings. Never any other time. Because you know they won’t be at home then.

“Yeah,” you confirm, “I feel horrible neglecting him like that, because he seems to be glad that I’m happy, but…”

Your lips point downward; you clear your throat, but it doesn’t hide the tremble in your voice, “I just wish he’d defended me sometimes. Dunno. Maybe he did and I just don’t know about it? And it never worked? It’s what I like to think.”

God…

“Because,” you continue your vent, “he was strict but not like her, and… Sometimes he did recognise bullshit when he saw it. I’d hear them talk and he wouldn’t always see eye to eye with her. But a bit more open support would’ve been cool, you know?”

Shit, how it angers Jungkook.

The knot in your throat; how you avert his gaze; the looming tears. It all angers him.

He moves his hand to your knee, keeping his voice and heart steady for you. Simply uttering, “Baby…”

“And… and then today he suddenly seemed… I don’t know.” You take a deep breath, shaking your head. Your blinking fastens, and you vehemently dodge Jungkook’s eyes. “I dunno how casually he said it, but he told me he was proud.”

The way you emphasise the word… as if it’s a stranger to you, like you’re trying it out…

Jungkook sighs, heart and chest heavy, muttering so kindly—

“Oh, sweetheart… Ah, come here—”

His palm shoves the papers aside some more, uncaring, and brings you closer to his body. Yearning for your embrace, he shifts with you until your legs wrap around each other. Fingers slither to your chin to raise it, and then pinch your cheek adoringly.

The bedroom light falls into your sparkling eyes, shiny with the dampness. You’re not crying, but you sniffle for a moment.

“Of course he is,” he whispers, keeping your face upright, “what’s there not to be proud of? You’re so fucking cool.”

“…You think?”

“Of course I do,” he repeats, “you’re so inspiring and smart and funny and awesome. I’m the proudest of you, in fact.”

The heat increases beneath his palms as your cheek smoulders, pupils promptly softening. As if the outline of your irises is blurring, relinquishing the harder, unwanted emotions.

“I could probably live with just that,” you respond, managing a tender laugh and mixing it with your sniffles. “But…”

But perhaps, the heavy heart won’t get entirely lighter just yet. And Jungkook’s turns half blue at the same time as yours.

“I wish my mom could react the same way instead of being so… stubborn. I mean, it’s a good thing that I want to stand on my own two feet! And aside from work — she also saw me in the summer, and she knew how I felt without you. She sees how I feel now with you, too, and yet.”

You puff out some air, as if you’d been dying to rant; and he imitates the release of a quiet breath, but for wholly other reasons.

Because…

Along with the melancholy drenching your voice, the guilt shoots an arrow to his heart. Guilty about this damn summer; about the days he nearly gave up on you. If he could encase your fractured soul in a quick cure…

“I’m sorry she keeps hurting you, baby. And… I’m sorry you cried. Being sad over a loser like me was the last thing you needed, so…”

He’s half joking; lifting the corner of his lips. You seem to know, too, because you match his smile — still pledging, “Being sad sucked, but… you’re right here now and. I do need you.”

It’s so easy for you to tinge his entire being in a bright pink. Because somewhere in the depths of his mind, he admits that he wanted to hear this. That he wants you to need him as much as he needs you.

“And I’m right here to stay,” he promises. “Even if she doesn’t. Okay?”

“Yeah… yeah. But maybe someday she can be proud, too.”

It’s fucking you up more than he thought. Probably more than you thought.

“I’m sure,” he guarantees, “some people accept their mindsets as the only truth, angel, but one day she’ll come around.” You only nod. So he adds, “I’ll fix this with you.”

“Fix it?”

“The issues you deal with. And the ones I deal with. You and I together, okay?”

Your motions are slow. The nod is barely one; maybe because his hands refuse to establish yet another distance to your skin. And maybe because you’ve tired yourself out once and for all. The slight slouch is telling; your body needs some rest.

Enough with the papers.

“You know… somehow, this excites me,” he says. The grin emerging confuses you for a while; the flicker in your eyes is as delightful as the moment. “Pulling out all the stops and making things better with you, I mean. I wouldn’t wanna do it with anyone else.”

And he’d know. Because if he’d been comfortable enough, he would’ve long ago; he had the chance to. Yet, the courage never surfaced — until with you.

His touch drops from your face to the side of your neck, shaking you gently before he says, “You excite me all the time.”

Shouldn’t be news to you — bearing his unceasing kisses and everlasting words in mind, his bliss is difficult to miss. There’s barely any containing it around you.

And maybe you know what he means; because judging from your dreamy smile, you can’t seem to muster any self-control either. Feeling the joy bubbling, growing, simmering in the middle of your stomach until it explodes and you—

Wrap your arms around his neck abruptly. Attacking him until balance abandons him, falling back onto the bed before you land on top of him. The hug is crushing, your body pushing into his with every sliver of fondness you can summon.

He could say something. Blurt more admissions dipped in honey. But he doesn’t question it; doesn’t comment on it. Only relishes the silence and your warm cheek against his chest, cuddling in.

And sighs in contentment.

A WEEK LATER

You’re messing up the structured system he established for himself.

The groceries are scattered in the cart; instead of playing Tetris with them, as he usually does, you’re piling them up randomly, unaware of the mess.

Jungkook doesn’t have the heart to tell you that the pack of eggs isn’t supposed to be balancing on top of other products like this. Because holy shit, you are buzzing. Not because you don’t know how to grocery shop, but because of the conversation this morning.

”I've got a whole list in my head. We’ll need a shit ton to make this work tonight.”

You were taming your hair as you listened; watching your reflection follow your movements — and as he readied himself for the day, Jungkook watched from afar.

You’d decided that for now, a week was enough to mourn the loss of whatever familial bonds could’ve been. Just last night you told him that starting this new life means an opportunity to gradually leave your sorrow behind, even if it takes some time.

And in celebration of the new arc you’re so joyfully approaching, you’d decided to host a housewarming of some sorts.

Jungkook’s friends already know his place; but the pronoun has changed. This time, you want them to step into your apartment, too.

Securing a hair strand with a clip, you asked, “Do we have it all here?”

“Not everything. Gotta go grocery shopping later.”

“Ohhh…”

Your fingers floated to the edge of the wash basin. You held it in your grip, leaning over it a little, staring into your own eyes quietly. He checked with another step closer to the bathroom, glimpsing at the expression in the mirror.

Calm, but thinking.

“What is it?” he asked, pulling his jeans’ zipper close.

“Uhh. Do you need help?”

“You should rest. You’re already doing so m—”

“No, no, I mean…” You let the sink go, folding your fingers. Inhaling for just a moment when your eyes fell on his bare torso. “I want to go grocery shopping with you. It’s Saturday and I have nothing to do until tonight. So… Please don’t go without me?”

The big eyes and saccharine question went straight to his heart; like one of Cupid’s pointy, sharp arrows targeting the exact middle of the organ. What else could he have done other than breaking into a breathy laugh — wide grin building a lively start to the morning.

“Of course. I’ll wait until you’re ready then.”

You raised a triumphant, tight fist, and he shook his head in delight. Diminished the distance between your bodies, a hand pressing into the back of your head before pulling you to his lips and placing a kiss to your forehead. Right before—

“Hey— ouch?”

It didn’t hurt; but he still felt the fingers pinching his tiny nipples — and heard your cheeky, “Why are they always hard? And why are you always shirtless, Jeon?”

He didn’t argue that changing into outdoor clothes didn’t count. Instead, the bright golden light you cast in his mind distracted him, taking him back.

You’d said that to him before; everything has changed since then.

“Why are you smiling like this?” you ask, holding a pack of four yellow apples in one hand, red ones in the other.

“Hm?” Jungkook rubs a hand over his cheek, feeling the glee in his countenance before flattening the dimples. “It’s nothing. I’m just liking how much fun you’re having.”

“I am! But most of all because I can’t wait to cook with you today.”

Your words instantly conjure pictures of a potential evening; idyllic ones mixing with utter chaos. Rushing and cutting and serving — but for one of the very first times together. Only milestones ahead.

A higher pitched gushing threatens to fall out of Jungkook, right here in the fruit aisle. But instead, you raise your hands again, asking, “Which ones?”

“Hmmm… neither. Let’s get the green ones.”

You let your arms fall, a finger pointing towards him, and say, “Ohhh. Good call.”

And then you proceed to complicate the cart labyrinth again. What a savagery. Jungkook waits until you’ve turned around and works on reorganising again, following his system. Then, he thinks — this could be draining, but it’s not.

Because you keep each other entertained. And neither of you bothers about the gapes you receive.

Not when he leans over the cart, shoving it in teeny tiny steps; continuing when he realises it makes you laugh.

Or, when you cheer once you find something the two of you like that nobody else enjoys; accompanied by exclaimed Ohhhhs and Haaas. And not as you argue when you find something to disagree about.

It seems that you do not dig dates, and he, the friendly omnivore, takes playful offence in that. He teases you across half the supermarket until you turn the tables, picking up an eggplant and interrupting him with a,

“Look! This is you.”

The roll of his eyes only veils his amusement a little, he’s sure. Because your enthusiasm remains steady, including the impish pull of his beige Supreme beanie over his eyes and a kiss to his cheek that paints the spot in a rosy dust.

Pointing to a glass of honey, Jungkook soon fights back, “And this is you.”

“…This is way too sweet and I do not know how to counter it.”

“Romance tends to make people speechless, darling.”

Your expression resembles an ellipsis; whether you’re out of answers or overwhelmingly affected by the selection of his words, he doesn’t know. He knows he’d short circuit if you ever said that to him.

“Fair,” is what you settle on, though, “wouldn’t I know what brain outages your romantic ass causes.”

You’re the model definition of a cheesy, movie-esque couple. Taehyung and Eun differ from the nature the two of you showcase; they already threatened to bring paper bags in case Jungkook and you overdo it tonight.

Can’t blame them. The world is certainly pink-tinted when you bicker and jest at the register; or when you hurry through an Ikea — courtesy of your last minute plan to buy plants — to make it home and cook in time.

Just this morning, you were daydreaming about the concept of furniture retailers and how such shops allow building a home with the most special person.

And then, as if wanting to clarify your sentiments, you turned in the car, facing him as you struggled with the belt, just to say, “Which is you for me. I’m building a home with you.”

Jungkook’s legs still melt into a puddle whenever he remembers the softness in your words, and the puppy gaze you threw as you finally leaned back in your seat.

Which is why it’s such a shame that the clock is ticking so relentlessly.

Because your initial elation turns into disapproval only for today as you wade through the labyrinthine, time-consuming design the store is so popular for. Trying to keep up with Jungkook’s pace and hastening across the rooms.

And even then, neither of your laughter ceases; you turn the most stressful situations into deep solace. The pressure soon gives way to a calm satisfaction the moment your apartment door opens.

You set up the few plants you brought; some under the window, some on the desk in the bedroom, right next to the Beauty and the Beast rose, and a jade plant in the living room. For good luck, you said.

And then, after resting for five minutes and abandoning all further breaks, you start work in the kitchen. Which proves as cooperative as he thought — that is, until you get into a friendly argument about whether to do the dishes now or later.

“One of us keeps cooking. The other washes up what we don’t need anymore,” Jungkook explains, repeating it over and over.

To which you keep defending, “Or. One cooks one dish. The other handles the second. And we finish cooking faster and then do the dishes together.”

His fingers pinch the bridge of his nose, and he whines, “It won’t make much of a difference!”

“Well, if it doesn’t, then we could do either!”

“BUT… it might get crowded if we work at the stove at the same time, babe—”

“You just don’t trust me with th—”

“Keep yelling at me like that, and—” Jungkook interjects, and you wince a tiny bit; but he continues a mere, barely lasting moment later, “and I swear I’ll kiss you.”

Beat of silence. Your eyebrows are still furrowed. And then, amidst the agitation, you erupt into laughter. Blend it with the chortle he can’t suppress, either.

To Jungkook, the sound is akin to a song — and he could spin the record all day long.

Spoiler warning — you do not kiss. But the lively chuckles and free-spirited conversations dye the atmosphere and flavour it. Its sweetness feels like a feathery kiss, too.

And whether it’s that very unlimited sense of familiarity, gradually growing, or your unwavering teamwork at last — you’re surprised when the late afternoon transforms into an early evening, a dimly blue, cloudy sky already changing into different shades of grey.

Time passed fast; but the hour-hand on the clock still hasn’t quite moved to where you’re waiting for it to settle. Because back in the living room, you’re still an hour early. Your guests are invited for around six, but you can’t say when they’ll actually show up.

Seems you wrapped up work at a convenient time. Better now than late.

You kiss your teeth in the middle of the room, scanning it for something to do. It’s clean; pretty. Plants set up, table wiped, cushions neatly set on the couch. So you remark, “We were so stressed, I didn’t think we’d be finished already.”

Jungkook, already plummeting onto the far end of the couch, pats the spot next to him, saying, “That’s good. Gives us a bit of time to relax. Anything you wanna do?”

But you don’t sit down yet. You watch your manspreading boyfriend lean back, big inked hand wrapping around the remote control. You look at the open button of his shirt, and the singular hair strands; the side parting. The mole under his lips and the big eyes.

He just doesn’t notice it until the lack of a response continues.

“Huh?” he voices again, finger stopping over the power button before his eyes flit back to you.

You look deep in emotions and distracted; if he could guess, then even… ferociously yearning. He waits with a dancing heart until you admit boldly, “There’s plenty I can think of that I wanna do right now.”

You fold your hands behind your back, chest out a little, legs crossing. You curl your lower lip in, nibbling at it. It affects him, and you know. He sucks in air, a hand on his thigh. Blinking at you, and then poking the inside of his cheek with his tongue.

He leaves out a puff of a tiny laugh, shaking his head a bit. Nearly succumbing to the thought that…

Perhaps there’s an activity you can indulge in before they come, right—

Wrong.

Jungkook, no matter how tempted, throws another glance at the clock, and argues, “Stop thinking of eggplants. They’ll probably be here soon, so your smooth-talking is not allowed to work!”

Your body relaxes, back in its prior position; you pout for a second. “Fine. Then I’ll get dressed before anything else.”

Jungkook sighs in relief — close. Way too close. Tonight might just stretch his jeans if you keep this up; his blood is already abandoning his brain and putting its attention elsewhere.

But you’re well-mannered in the company of guests, right?

Only one way to find out — an hour to go.

Jungkook heaves his body off the couch merely ten minutes later.

And maybe even that was too early.

Maybe he should’ve waited for you to trudge out of the bedroom; or should’ve gotten his clothes and changed somewhere else. Because when he follows your steps to find a new attire for himself, too, you’re sitting at the very edge of the bed, dress already on.

It’s not too posh; rather casual. A green cotton one, pulled up to your hip because you’re dragging transparent tights over your legs. A patch of your thighs is still visible; part of your ass on display where your panties don’t reach. Skin far too empty without his kiss on it.

He doesn’t know how you do it; but within a moment, you elicit a plethora of emotions in him. Burning desire; comfortable warmth; cosy affection. You look so cuddled in in that autumn dress.

Pretty. So gorgeous; you’ll drive him insane.

But the craze doesn’t manifest in hunger this time, but gathers in a single breath, let out in a sigh. Which… makes you recoil. Your hand briefly bolts to your chest, eyes rolling, head shaking. You murmur a quiet, “Babe…” before resuming the task.

Jungkook watches as you lift your body to pull your tights over your ass and the dress back into place, and then reaches out a palm to you; urging yours to settle in it.

Still trapped in a cube of daydreams, he tugs you in until your grace radiates toward him, and then tells you—

“My baby is the prettiest ever. Ever, ever.”

You take his fawning with glowing cheeks, smile so unbelievably worth being alive as you answer, “Your baby isn’t sure if she deserves this so suddenly, but… thankful either way.”

Your voice is an endearing mix of soft and enthusiastic. The combination that breathes life into a room. You’re so…

“God,” he says, squeezing your hand, lifting his other fingers to touch the hem of your dress. Fixing it albeit already perfectly sitting. Then looks up; eyes dropping to your lips. “Maybe you were right. Want to kiss you stupid right now.”

And he would; he wouldn’t hesitate if you didn’t move a palm to his face, pressing a thumb to his plush mouth. Telling him, “Nope, too late. The make up wasn’t easy to do. And dark lipstick is hard to remove.”

Fuck, not when he’s kissing it off…

“I…” Gulp. “Fine, princess.” He removes your hand from his face, towing you back into the living room. “Then, what do we do now? Movie?”

“Nah… It’s so hard to stop watching. Gonna kick them out again if we start now. What about… hm.”

Your eyes dart across the room, and Jungkook takes the moment to suggest, “Or we could have some soju already? Or wine, beer, whatever?”

“Or…”

You wait. Jungkook follows your gaze to the back of the room, surprised when it falls on a peeking canvas behind another big plant pot. Oh — that’s still there. He never took it out, and neither did you. Protecting his privacy, probably.

But perhaps it’s lighting a bulb over your head, because you soon ask, “Or. Wanna give me a house tour?”

“A house tour? Don’t you know every corner already?”

“Yeah but,” you shrug, rounding the couch with him in tow, “I wasn’t always here. You organised the place the way you wanted to when you moved in, so you’d know it better. Like…” You point to the turned painting, “What’s that?”

“That’s… Remember the drawing I had in my notebook? Of Gureum?”

Quite a while ago. You visited him for the first time in Namjoon’s studio back then; recalled it at the exhibit, too. Crazy how sentiments have changed. From a silly play-pretend game to damaged souls to this…

You nod.

“Yeah so,” he continues, “I painted him on a bigger surface.”

Your eyes shoot open, genuine interest in them. “Oh? Can I see?”

“Of course.”

It’s not his best work, honestly; but it is close to his heart. A piece he still wants to improve and feature in his own exhibit once it rolls around. The colouring process will be interesting; it’s barely an outline yet.

But you seem to perceive it with utter fascination and sheer joy. Because the moment Jungkook heaves the canvas up, turning it for you to see, your chin drops. You gasp, mumbling under your breath, “You’re kidding!”

“…Do you like it?”

“It’s so cute! This is…” You lean in, taking in every detail; commenting on it. “He’s a fluffball! Oh my god, the tongue peeking out. He looks so happy.” When you look up into his eyes, Jungkook’s heart does a thing; and his cheeks the other thing. “You painted him from memory?”

“Mmh, maybe a couple details? But I got most of him from a picture my aunt sent me a while ago. He’s been looking much older these days and I wanted to capture him before he ages even more. Made me miss him so much.”

“Awwh, Kook…” You pout. “I really want to meet him one day.”

He looks at you with something knowing and so telling in his gaze; he feels it unveil through his own stare. The knowledge he possesses about something, and that you don’t.

You might notice hints of it, but you don’t question it. Listening when he responds, “You will. He really is a fluffball and remembers me even after months and years of distance.”

“I love him already.” You lift, straightening your back. Watching as Jungkook sets the painting back before you add, “Okay. House tour. What else?”

“Hmm. Let’s see. Come.” He leads you the short way to the cupboard, and you follow in tiny steps, like an explorer running from one treasure to another. So exhilirated. So fucking cute. “Look, these— and don’t laugh, these are precious to me.”

“Laugh?”

“…These,” he opens the cupboard doors, reaching to the far back, behind some decoration; and pulls out a deck of cards. “Are my Yu-Gi-Oh cards. I used to collect them long ago, but I’m never throwing them away. Also—”

Your lips are parted, your eyes focused. Eyebrows shooting up gently, delighted when he takes out another small object from the back.

“My Jiraiya figure that I got for my tenth birthday.”

“Holy shit… I really never bothered looking in hidden corners.” Yeah… but now that you are, you’re making this place your own, too. No, it already is yours, the way he is. He swoons at the thought. “This is so cool. Why would I laugh?!”

“Ah… Were you a Naruto fan?”

You tilt your head. “A little. More into Detective Conan, though.”

Jungkook wonders… How foolish might his smile be looking right now?

“You… keep surprising me, angel,” he says — and you seem to like the praise.

Because you light up, forefinger touching his chest as you reiterate, “See? The house tour wasn’t a bad idea at all! Look at us tracking back the path of our souls, too.”

Jungkook can’t help but chuckle. You’re a breath of fresh air to be around; so incredibly tender when you’re yourself. After all those weeks, you’re finally back to who he used to know. Not as sad anymore.

Never sick of the hand-holding, he grips your palm again, voice hushed when he orders, “Follow me, quick!” The mysterious journey leads you to the closet next; back to the quiet bedroom as he playfully shushes you. “I haven’t worn them in a long time, so you won’t know, but… Look, because the secret's out.”

You crane your neck to see what he’s referring to. And when you do, you coo and laugh straight away. Endlessly enraptured when he claims, “Wahh. They were my super-favourites.”

Iron Man socks. Obviously worn a hundred times; so, so him.

His bunny teeth flash in all their glory when he smiles, dimples out and corners of his eyes crinkly. He feels you hold his hand tighter, and you pick the most supportive tone when you say, “You need to start wearing them again! It’s so sweet when you’re geeky.”

“Maybe you’re right.” He stuffs them back, though not to the very bottom anymore; places them on top for easy access. And then, he continues, “Okay. One more thing for the glorious house tour, and we’re done. It’s another important sight, actually.”

“Ah. Oh?”

Barely a couple seconds later, you’re back to where the trip started. Following suit when he kneels near the table; swift beam spreading over your face when he clears his throat and narrates, “This… Is where I painted on you. Not on another medium, but I painted on you. Remember?”

You must. He rarely abandons paper and his usual colours like that; but you were the most marvellous masterpiece he ever covered. The most outstanding canvas he’s ever drawn on…

“I do.”

Your gaze falls sideways; are you remembering the same heart on your waist that he does? And how he touched it; smeared it under the shower water. How your back pressed into his chest, unknown what feelings you truly harboured, but never failing to showcase his own care to you.

The kisses on your shoulder. The whispers in your ears. The plea for you to stay.

“Of course I do. It was so calming,” you add, “and so beautiful.” You touch the soft carpet, plucking at its tiny fibres. “You consider it a sight at Jeon manor?”

He snickers at your choice of words, but then inhales, and very sternly says, “Yeah. We also had sex here, so it’s forever tainted. I remember it felt… like�� we should do it ag—”

“Now it’s you saying these things!” You move a fist to his bicep, pushing against it lightly. “Be serious. Be romantic! It’s not the time to make me want you.”

“Oof, hey… For the record, I was being romantic! And also, I only want you more when you’re being sweet,” he rubs the spot you grazed; he barely felt it, “but seriously. I still remember everything I felt for you. And how crazy you drove me… and how vulnerable you were.”

You’re still stroking the fur of the carpet as you look into his eyes; and he sees a molten puddle in yours. Only one side of your lips lifts, but the softness in your voice is genuine, “I think I still am. Just a lot safer than before.”

“…Good. Me too.”

And that’s all.

That’s all his mind comes up with, because all the words and infatuation are locked in his heart, moving to his fingertips when he inches closer. He raises them to your chin. Knees near yours and close the yawning distance until your lips are a whisker away.

Funny — how his strong chest holds a feeble heart. Bursting and aching, full and yearning.

If he could, he’d stay here with you forever, just like that.

But. The two of you have a party to host.

And the suddenly ringing phone reminds you of it. Makes you flinch until your noses and foreheads touch, and you laugh, rubbing them as you tap the couch for the device. The two of you lean against the sofa, cosy on the carpet as you pick up.

He hears Eun’s voice announce through the phone, “We’re all here. Just a warning, because you better not be naked.”

You shoot a glance toward Jungkook. He snorts, and you start, “Why would we…”

“‘Cause we’re early for once. Taehyung didn’t need as much time with his hair today. So be prepared.”

Jungkook nods in confirmation. Taehyung usually needs to be told an earlier time when invited to an event or get-together.

There are sounds in the background, and he readies himself to register another voice. But not a second later, the doorbell chimes. Guess the two of you will have to wait with the bare devotion.

Because for now, it’s time to indulge the gang. Let them stream in with vibrant greetings, wrapped gifts, endless booze and sweets as irresistible as you.

Jimin is the only guest coming in a little later, rushing straight from his shift. And Jungkook recognises quickly that he’s not Jimin’s first pick for conversation after a timid handshake and parting of ways.

There’s no enmity between them; Jungkook reckons it’s more the awkwardness from the Blue Night still lingering between Jimin and him. Maybe even some leftover guilt about how he used to perceive the younger man.

At least, it’s strange when he, eventually, does take a seat on the couch, separated from Jungkook only by a healing Yoongi. You’re busy talking to Eun, and Taehyung has escaped to the bathroom. Yoongi maintains a healthy atmosphere with casual talks and soft jokes.

But even if somewhat reluctantly, it seems that Jimin is at least trying when he leans back on the couch, enabling a better view to Jungkook as he asks, “Did you paint that one?”

Jungkook follows the finger pointing at the wall next to the window; nothing too out of the ordinary. Just colourful flowers. It’s okay. Better this than nothing to warm up to each other.

Turning on the couch, Jungkook waves a hand in denial as he explains, “Ah, no, no. She bought it because she thought it’s cute.”

“But you could paint that, too,” Yoongi argues, followed by Jungkook’s shy, “I guess.”

“Ohh, okay, okay. Well, since we’re talking about it. Even if you didn’t paint it,” Jimin says, “been wanting to tell you that I loved your exhibit stuff. Uhm, Eun showed me pictures. Hope that’s okay.”

That’s surprising. Jungkook considers himself gifted in this sense, but— having someone actually boast about his work for him makes him feel… accomplished? Appreciated.

No wonder you hold your friends in such high regard.

“Yeah! Of course. Thank you, Jimin.”

“It’s a pretty place, by the way.”

Yoongi wiggles a finger back and forth with an agreeing nod, snacking away, a quiet listener for the time being. There’s something amusing about it; makes Jungkook smile as he tells Jimin, “Thanks. And I’m glad you could come. Can imagine work’s a lot, so…”

“Yeah. No worries. Everything for our girl.”

Jungkook hums as the chat dies and the awkwardness returns. And then, he remembers—

Speaking of — where are you again? Still in the kitchen? Seems so. Or at least, moving away from it bit by bit.

Immersed in a conversation, holding the frame of the living room door, at the threshold to the anteroom. You’re discussing something with Eun, your expression focused. He can’t really make out your words because of those exchanged between Jimin and Yoongi, but…

A moment later, you do look at him. And then away again immediately — as if he caught you. A motion of your hand waves whatever cryptic topic off; and intrigued, Jungkook comes to a stand.

In vain — because Taehyung returns the same moment, babbling about whatever Yoongi just said. And you use the opportunity to march into the room, asking Jungkook to help you set the table for dinner.

To his chagrin, most of them offer to help momentarily. Taehyung swarms around you, insisting on plating, making it impossible for Jungkook to find a moment to ask what your conversation was about. And eventually, he gives up — if it’s important, you’ll tell him.

So for now, he relishes the evening your friends grant the two of you. They compliment the food, narrate short and long stories, watching Jungkook and you unwrap the gifts — board games from Jimin, cutting boards and wine from Yoongi, a stylish, modern thermostat from Taehyung and Eun.

The ecstasy overflows, the screeches probably making your neighbours think of you unhinged. Wine spills on the table; curses exchange; laughing turns into crying.

If anything other than this life is considered good, then Jungkook doesn’t crave that goodness. The unbridled chuckles, and your never-dropping smile are beyond everything twinkling and gorgeous already.

And he’s happy, too. Elated when you cover your mouth when you laugh; and overjoyed when you stand at the window after dinner, leaning forward. Breathing in the autumn air.

Jungkook follows once things wind down and the guests agree upon an appropriate volume. He mimics your stance, lower arms on the windowsill and hands hanging relaxed.

His fingers graze the withering flowers in the window box. They’re slowly dying by the hands of the approaching cold, and the rain keeps overwatering them. Yet… they still let it hurt them, holding on for as long as possible.

So in love with the shower.

It’s almost a bit tragic.

Jungkook refocuses, turning to you and asks, “What are you doing?”

Your head moves to the side, and you kill the remaining distance between you. Step close until you’re nearly nudging his elbow.

“Just,” you nod into a haphazard direction; into the outside world, “looking at the rain. Got a bit stifling in there.”

“Yeah.” Jungkook throws a glance over his shoulder. “Also, I think they’re getting drunk.”

“Mhmmm. Except Jimin. Poor him is looking at the alcohol so longingly. Did you notice that he didn’t drink?”

“Someone has to drive them home, and Yoongi with his healing injury is out. I offered, but Jimin insisted on taking care of them and not, as he said, bothering us. Super thoughtful, really.”

You smile, nodding along before you silence. He doesn’t know what you’re thinking of; or what you’re seeing. Maybe you’re truly only revelling in the rain; contrasting it with the sunshine you radiate.

Maybe he should look for a rainbow somewhere.

In the midst of the tranquil evening, your gape strays from the drizzle with a blink. It descends to his twirling thumbs, and then moves along the length of his arm. Jungkook notices your attention from the side, but only turns to look at you when he realises what you’ve fixated on.

You gesture towards the hues and outlines on his skin, delicately touching the writhing snake as you say, “Want a tour for them, too, if you’d ever allow. I imagine it could be fun.”

“Tattoo tracing?” His lips move into an endeared smile; you look so fascinated. Like you’re seeing them for the first time. “I’d be down. I could even…” His fingers journey to yours, gently leading them to the flowers. “I can even give you a sneak peek.”

“Really?”

“Sure. Look.” He guides your touch over the dazzling orange of his tiger lily. “This is me. Tiger lilies beg for love. I’ve always sought love, too.”

Your eyes change. He knows you see it, too — the urge to never be abandoned again, all the time.

He can nearly see your heart ache. And feels his own thump a thousand miles a second. A fraction of it breaks off and jumps into your chest, making it yours; it does it all the damn time until you hold the entirety of it in the palm of your hands.

Unhurried, he steers your finger further, stopping at the blue tint; clearly hears you draw a breath when he tells you, “And this… This is my girlfriend. She’s even prettier in real life… that’s right.”

For a bit, you’re speechless. Jungkook keeps admiring you in the forget-me-nots for another second, and when you don’t speak on, he meets your eyes. You’re shaking your head, and then — slowly wrapping an arm around his, moving close, head on his shoulder.

From this angle, your cheeks are demanding to be squeezed; eyelashes kiss them softly, your lips tempting curves when you laugh. Jungkook doesn’t get enough of you… and you don’t want to make it easier for him either.

Because, “Shit,” you say, “you were right about pining more when someone’s being romantic. ‘Cause you’re making me want you so bad, in every way. Are you… still up for kissing me stupid?”

“Ahh… babe.”

“I just… You excite me, too, you know?”

“Don’t say these things while they’re here, baby,” he warns, although as tenderly as anyhow possible, “you’ll give me a heart attack, I mean it.”

“Now you know how I feel all the time!” you tease, fingers flicking raindrops into his face out of nowhere.

Jungkook recoils and squirms, taken aback, but it takes him a mere second to play along. He gathers rain in his palms, threatening to toss it into your face; bickering chaos at the open living room window until your damp hands rejoin and delicate digits interlace.

And as he looks at the sad flowers again, the reality of the moment makes him think. How the two of you used to resemble the blossoms in your window box, once enduring the incessant melancholy, too.

Much like the flowers towards the downpour, Jungkook and you reached for each other while being watered by gloom — but unlike the flowers, you’re still sprouting and thriving into something vivid and fragrant. Not beaten by the agonising shower.

The rain hurt me, but I wanted to keep fighting. Because I hoped. Because I adored.

And in the end, him and you aren’t tragic like them. You will never wither — only bloom.

An hour later, the apartment is empty.

You opened all the windows to eliminate the suffocating air; and the hot water running in the sink soothes your cold skin. What a relief to watch the clinking dishes lessen; you sigh at the small amount still left, and Jungkook catches it immediately.

“See?” he teases, loading the dishwasher. Even that seems like a task after such a day; tidying up the living room was more than enough. “Good that we did most of it during and after cooking. It’s so much even now.”

Eyes heavy, you admit, “I should learn to listen to you more.”

He clicks his tongue, skipping a response, and then, out of the blue, says, “Angel… I could get used to this.”

“To me listening to you more?”

“Yes. But no. To you being here.”

You glow up, even though you’re still facing the sink, smile a little hidden, “You need to. Because I’ll be annoying you all the time.”

“Oh, I believe you.”

You hit him with a spoon, wetting the spot a bit before handing the cutlery to him. Delivering a head tilt, he smirks. Amused before he remembers something and asks, “Hey. What were you and Eun talking about earlier?”

“Hm? When?”

“Before dinner. It looked serious.”

You halt mid-movement. Did he catch something? Maybe. But you only insist, “Nothing special. About her graduation… you know, since it’s pretty soon.”

Huh. Doesn’t seem to quite cut it.

“Mmmh. Anything else?”

You feign a thoughtful moment, as if you’ve wiped your memory clean off whatever she said to you. Then, you tell him, “Yeah. I told her how you played around with the recipe and came up with the best dinner ever. And how hot you looked doing it.”

“…You said the last bit, too?”

“No.” Jungkook blows a raspberry before comically pressing his lips into a line, eyebrows furrowing. “Don’t look at me like that, it’s not my fault. I mean, do you know how attractive is it to be among people and know that this one person is still only looking at you?”

Oh, all too well…

“I would definitely know,” he chuckles. “Shit. You’ve been testing me tonight, you know?”

“…How?”

“All those compliments and ambiguous statements.” You shrug your shoulders in apparent innocence, muttering a small, ”It’s true" before he digs, “Anyway, don’t distract me. Anything else she said?”

Perhaps you’re done playing games. And perhaps you should’ve kept doing just that; because your next answer is a much greater tease.

“…I’ll tell you about it soon enough.”

Jungkook squints, organising a plate into a free spot, playfully disgruntled, “Unfair.”

“Hang in there.”

“Alright. You’re lucky I trust you.”

Your grin is gaping wide, and he attempts his best to ignore it. But when you add an evil snicker to it, regarding him with pure mirth in your eyes, he folds, “What?”

“Nothing. You’re just so cute. You’ll keep acting like you’re digging, but still always know when to respect my decisions. Maybe the bar is low? But I find trust ridiculously attractive.” You throw a longing smile at him, bringing a damp fingertip to his cheek to poke. “And to top it off… You’re so pretty, too, and I’m just… enamoured from all sides and—”

You wait and he uses the moment to wipe his cheek on his shirt. But when you don’t speak on, he spurs you on, “…And?”

“And I want you so bad.”

The plate waiting to be set into the dishwasher drops on the counter. Jungkook stares up, regarding the ceiling with a seemingly agitated look. You don’t know what’s truly whirling in him, so you warily ponder, “…What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Jungkook turns the water off, taking the cups from your hands and placing them in the sink. He shakes his palms off the liquid, and then whispers, “Okay. Later.”

The hold around your wrist is firm, and the tug firmer. Determined, he leads you out of the kitchen, slapping a hand over the light switch; your eyes are wide when you ask, “Wait, we’re not do—”

His answer is predictable; yet, you didn’t foresee it. Because—

“Bedroom. Right now.”

THE MORNING OF THE CONFESSION

Unlike you, Jungkook has considered himself a night owl ever since he entered the bustling world of college. Settling in the city was a stirring experience, and the thrill of it, along with a girlfriend, exams and newfound friends, kept him up until the sun rose again.

He enjoyed what he did, too. Loved school, so he didn’t mind the fatigued eyes during lectures. Truly one of the handful of joys that helped rid his head of the brain fog he bestowed upon himself after each long, sleepless night.

And he was an avid participant in classes despite his sheepish persona — they shook him awake, the late afternoon workouts obliterating the rest of the exhaustion. Maybe that’s why he was so reluctant to flake out for the night, too; still energised.

But while Jungkook carried the spirit of a straight-out-of-the-high-school-freshman who disliked falling asleep early, he despised waking up at the break of day just as much.

Would groan, blinking into the sun, with no one to blame for his agitation but him. No matter how deep his fascination for his studies and how quick the fading of his initial irritation — the first few minutes of every day were pure agony.

Jungkook is still a night owl. Still wants the nights to stretch, albeit for other reasons now. But his attitude towards mornings has changed.

There’s a shift in his preferences now; you moved his universe by an inch, altered it so effortlessly. Suddenly, he doesn’t regret rising with the sun next to him. He doesn’t curse the groggy feeling anymore.

There’s a silky touch he seeks every single morning that his eyes open to, lips he follows with his own blindly. You’re a permanent presence now, air and fire to his lungs, and he feels the freshness, feels the burn whenever your fingers brush his shoulders upon waking up.

He won’t need to check in at work for a few hours still; yet, sleeping in would mean losing the minutes that you’re still here before walking out the door until the evening.

He’ll sacrifice a slumber for this. Voluntarily.

And it’s crazy how none of this requires any sort of effort or pleading from your side. How all you need to do is to breathe and talk and smile and stay.

Those extra moments, no matter how fleeting, grant him a little more time on Earth with you, and he grasps it greedily. Even when you spend it teasing the hell out of him. Or, even when you wake up with scorching cheeks and endearing, high pitched complaints.

Like today.

“I still can’t believe yesterday,” you say.

“It’s okay.”

“I embarrassed myself so hard. Thinking about it, can I really show my face at the wedding? I’ll probably make things worse.”

Jungkook keeps glancing at the back of your head, the loose bun shaking with your movement. Smoothly, his fingers trace up and down your back; a gesture he started randomly and continued the moment you mumbled, “I like it… continue?”

Sat between his legs, you’ve been swaying for a while, both uneasy and amped about the approaching event. And to Jungkook, it’s as sweet as it is frustrating to see your brain fuming like that.

“Come here, baby,” he demands, content when you reverse into him. He wraps his arms around your chest, pulling you to his body, and presses a pillowy kiss to your temple. “You’re overthinking again. I promise you, we’ll make sure you have the most fun.”

“I embarrassed myself so hard,” you repeat, and Jungkook kisses his teeth.

“You’re a clown, I’ll admit,” you whine his name, and he laughs, “but I’m telling you. I know my mom and that was her I-like-you voice. Which I didn’t doubt for a second, by the way. Like, she really seems happy with how my life has turned out, and with whom. As am I. Understand?”

One more kiss to your scalp. He swings you from side to side, ignoring the ticking of the clock. In a few, you’ll be leaving the apartment, and Jungkook will need to kill the hours until he joins Namjoon at work.

He shouldn’t be missing you already; but he still holds you tighter. Tighter until you let out a little groan, a hand on his arm. He can’t read your thoughts or decipher whether his promise helped; because you don’t answer yet.

Only wait for a few seconds, allowing him to wallow in your warmth until you call, “…Jungkook.”

“Mhh?”

“Talking about life and stuff… did you always imagine yours to be like this? Just curious.”

“Like this?” he ponders, mentally intertwining every current branch of his life into one healthily growing tree. He’s liking it. “Well… I graduated. An exhibition ahead that’ll hopefully bring me a step closer to my own studio and profession.”

You hum in pride, tapping his arm as an affectionate reward. He continues, “I do what I love, have some great friends… and I get to spend my days with my favourite person? Doesn’t sound too bad to me.”

You crane your neck to look at him; your lips are so close to his, tilted into a smile that’s so unbelievably you. “You called me that last night, too.”

“Huh? Oh, that’s right. And… I mean it. Like. Now that you’re here, it’s even clearer somehow?”

“…How so?”

“Mmh… whenever I used to get home, I’d think of what to eat and of showering and going to sleep. And when I come home now, the first thing I think of is you. What we’d cook tonight. Or what we might watch or talk about. You’re…”

He feels your chest rise under his limbs; a sigh of fondness as he knows it best.

“You’re the one I want to spend all my time with.” He pauses when you look at your blanket-covered lap, hiding your twinkling eyes. “So it’s clear.”

“You always sound so hopelessly…”

You halt mid-sentence, the touch against your arm tensing — much like his own heart, jumping to the next beat with a heavy thud. You shake your head; Jungkook doesn’t get to dwell in further thoughts… still doesn’t have the words for them yet.

Or doesn’t want to admit them yet.

If he thought about them long enough and arrived at a conclusion, would you think he’s rushing your relationship? Would it scare you?

Better not find out yet.

So he lets you talk and listens, “Anyway. So, is there anything, like… more? That you want to achieve someday? Or that you think of sometimes before you go, that’s still left for me to do.”

How fitting.

Pretending to be sinking into thoughts, Jungkook hums, letting his chest vibrate against your back, and then answers truthfully, “Yeah? Maybe a couple things. We’ll see them with time when I gather the courage to tackle them.”

“Like what?”

“Hmm… am I allowed to say that already?” More simulations, teasing you with a fake distant gaze and a hissing inhale of air. “I’m not sure. You’ll know.”

“Hey! That makes me nervous.”

“No need.” You interrupt his speech with another sound of disapproval, pulling a dorky, infectious chortle out of him; his nose scrunches up. “I’m kidding. I’m talking about all the goals I have for my career. I don’t want to stop, no matter what. Keep going and keep striving for more.”

You nod; someone as hard-working as you would understand. In a sense, you’re a role model to him, too — a sentiment that you, as you have often emphasised, reciprocate.

Yet, you advise, “Just don’t overwork. Think of Icarus! We can’t always get more than more, you know? There’s happiness in satisfaction with what we have, too. But either way…” You angle your legs, pulling them close; cuddling into him more. “I’ve got your back.”

And perhaps that’s one of the gazillion traits he cherishes so much about you.

Your position at work is reputable and treasured, and you could easily push him to work harder, too. Could want him to match your career success, because it’s more or less guaranteed for you.

But you don’t. You stand by his side, prioritising his happiness and mental strength, albeit unaware of how his future might turn out. When you say you’ve got his back, he believes you.

“I know,” he says, lips in your hair, breathing you in. “Yeah… I know.”

“Hmmm… okay,” you move on, “what about me? Do you have any expectations? Certain standards and rules? I just,” you reach forward, tugging the blanket over your chest and his arm, “I feel like that’s something one should talk about. Tell me if it’s too much, though.”

“No, you’re right. But honestly? Is it… is it weird to say that you’ve kinda become a standard?”

“…I— What do you mean?”

“I just mean that… I’m never going to tell you that I expect you to be loyal and kind because it’s the bare minimum, right? Who doesn’t want all that? I know you are, so I don’t need to say it. So I don’t have any other expectations from you; these things are already the foundation of our relationship. Just. Mmh, how do I say it?”

He thinks for a moment, but you’re nodding, as if you’ve already understood. But his thoughts don’t end here; they’re just difficult to word. In his mind, they’re clear, but upon having to express them, he doesn’t quite understand the concept of language anymore.

Curses its limitations.

But then, as emotions gingerly gather to a coherent sentence at last, he tries to explain:

“Rather than adhering to any rules or standards I could have, I feel like you’re building them for me. You make me have a type, you know?” He feels you dissolve in his arms as he taps between your clavicles. “And that’s you. I don’t want anyone if I can’t have you.”

Did he go off track? Possibly. But you don’t seem to mind.

Because your voice is painfully sweet and miniscule when you speak, on the brink of losing the fight against the tremble, “But you have me. Pinky promise that you do, for a long, long time.”

Yeah… yeah, he does. And he’d be damned if he let this go.

Because if he ever did — if he ever so foolishly lost you again after combating these cruel storms, you’d still remain his standard. He’d look for you in each face passing, and in every laugh sounding.

The blueprint. And an everlasting memory.

Does it make sense? He doesn’t know.

And it doesn’t matter anyway. You’re right here.

“I’ll take your pinky promises,” he says, overjoyed as he crosses his legs over your shins, peppering more kisses onto your cheeks, the corner of your eyes, on your ear. He speaks in between your sighs and quiet laughs, “What about you? What do you want?”

“I… I don’t think I’ve ever had any expectations either, but. The wedding and—” You hesitate, as if considering dropping whatever you were going to list; and then you start anew, “The wedding made me think, and I— I just want to have so much fun with you.”

“Yeah? Tell me about it.”

“I want all the ordinary things we do to feel special because it’s us doing them. And I don’t ever want us to regret anything, so… I want us to be brave.”

“Brave? Well, you’re already the strongest and bravest person I know.”

“Braver. I want to live without restraints. And I don’t want to overthink anymore.”

Hmm…

Jungkook has seen your jumbled up thoughts before. The pain you cause to your mind sometimes, and the zoned out eyes painting pictures of what you fear the most.

He knows that feeling. Has battled one too many beasts to lessen the ache; even if it’s not always possible. Even if he seeks reassurances sometimes, too. And maybe that’s the prominent and sole reason why he never dismisses your disquiet.

Why push you away if you’re already at an impasse? Why not lead you out of the maze?

“Take it easy, okay?” he soothes, letting his grip around you fall bit by bit to search for your fingers instead. “Restraints can’t beat us.”

“Yeah! I’m hopeful.”

“You should be.” Because thinking of all you’ve fought within the span of a couple weeks… “You’re the first person to show me that there’s no reason to be scared, you know?”

“Then…” You sit up, curling your fingers around his hand, lifting it mid-air in sudden eagerness. “Just imagine how life could go, right? We could go to the ocean. Oh.” You gasp, sucking in air. “Oh my god! The Great Barrier Reef!”

“Ohhh, that’s actually a solid bucket list item. And then, bungee jumping?”

You nod zealously; lacking your fingers’ mobility required to list things, you instead knock your intertwined hands against your thigh each time to come up with something new. Like now, “Cliffs. And northern lights, too. I’ve always wanted to see them.”

Reflexively, you look up.

Stare at the glued-on stars from last night, and the now missing projection you dozed off to. An effective visual lullaby; you didn’t even stir when Jungkook turned it off, tucking you in properly. In your blanket; in him.

“Hell yes,” Jungkook confirms.

“But the first stop’s your hometown… and the wedding. I want to meet your family and be super awkward about it.”

Jungkook laughs, forehead falling forward against your head. He shakes it for a second, and then recalls, “Ah… so chickens and family awkwardness. What else?”

He didn’t expect this to work out before he asked you. Considering you’ve barely started at Novaura, he anticipated gentle rejection. But now that it’s become a certain event in the incredibly near future, his heart pounds every time you mention it.

Because…

You in a dress. You in his house. You, dominating over every single heart that’s dear to him.

And it seems you’ve already thoroughly thought about this, because your answer shoots out of you like a bullet, “Wanna dance with you. And kiss you under the lights.”

“Angel… you’re over the moon about this, aren’t you?”

“…Too obvious?”

You allow a fleeting glance back to him before your eyes fall down to his bare arm, ending in a hand clinging to yours; covered in ink, much like the rest of his right limb. He knows you’re staring at the flowers without asking.

And as if knowing, reading your soul, he doesn’t find himself surprised when you suggest, “And then… one day… What do you think? Should I get a tattoo someday, too?”

“Totally, if that’s what you want. What would you wanna get?”

“Flowers to match? I don’t know. Maybe you can draw on me. Here,” you lead his hand to your thigh, sticking there for a while until you move up to your hip. “Or here.”

He wonders how focused your thoughts are right now. Because if they are, and you’re not fixating on the changes of his skin, you probably won’t register the countless goosebumps under his tattoos.

A giddy sensation spreads throughout his body, collecting in his chest and tummy. Memories of a nearly bare body, painted in his dozen colours returning. And then, pictures of the same hues blurring, smudging.

He breathes an exhale, insane at the thought of kissing those lines. Of lips trailing up your skin, stopping at your hip, dying a pleasant death.

Fuck.

“I… I would. I’ll paint you any day.”

His words come out more airy than intended, fingers itching to pinch your chin, to move your face to his. To slide down the mattress, to kiss your lips swollen, making out with you until the sun sets…

But the world is cruel and too real; the clock still ticks until he realises that freezing in place isn’t an option right now. So he says, “As much as I hate to say this… You should get ready for work.”

You groan; there’s something sweet about your unwillingness to go. Relatable. And it sticks until the exhaustion washes away with each second. Small breakfast in, clothes on, newfound work spirit restored.

Must be a good day approaching.

And you’ve been enjoying the recent ones, he assumes. Despite being so good at what you do, there’s a clear difference in how you tackle a day at Charmante versus at Novaura.

And you confirm it when he accompanies you to the entrance, bidding you goodbye until you meet again later, “What I love most about Novaura is that they don’t feel the need to communicate everything with Mom. They’re their own independent world and trust themselves.”

“Right… You as someone equally independent will fit right in, so they’re lucky to have you there. Makes me wonder, though.” Jungkook pauses, watching you grab your jacket from the wall hook, “Are your Charmante people okay with you being at Novaura so much?”

A COUPLE DAYS LATER

“…I really don’t know if I can do this.”

Well, shit. Wasn’t he ready to strive for more, run endlessly until his feet tired? Where is the dread suddenly emerging from?

Jungkook has barely set his sketchbook down when lightning bolts head for him.

Countering his concern with kissing eyebrows, Namjoon’s full lips purse, dimples gone as he wonders, “What are you even talking about?” — Much at the same time as you utter a threatening, “Shut up,” pastry lifted, ready to throw at him.

Jungkook shies away from the table, ready to dodge your attack; returning when you place the crumbly croissant back on your plate. He presses his lips together before smacking and kissing them, finger rolling the pen over his sketches, but eyes fixated on Namjoon’s notebook.

“I’m serious. There’s so much to do until November, and I… how do I get so much done?”

“But,” Namjoon knocks against the random drawing open on the table, “you already have so much to show. And you can revamp stuff from college, too. Besides, it’s okay to try your best and be scared at the same time, Jungkook! That’s part of a growing artist’s job.”

“But, are you sure I’m a growing artist?!”

Namjoon mutters something under a breath, and you add something unintelligible to the reassuring mix. Jungkook’s worried gaze remains on the rough lines of pencil on paper, teeth repeatedly nibbling his lower lip. Baring his mole.

He closes the sketchbook, staring at the golden, imprinted letters on a dark black background. He’s filled a quarter of it already; the very piece you gifted him for his birthday almost a month ago.

In some way, opening to a blank page serves as inspiration alone. You furnished him with something so simple yet gorgeous; thoughtful engraving to use as a reminder to hold onto his efforts.

But…

Amidst the lasting zeal, he’s been racking his brain. Because. What if he immerses himself in this, spending hours tainting his fingertips in different tints — only to steer towards failure?

What if it doesn’t work out? And he ends up not amounting to much, other than trying his luck online and living on a bare minimum of a salary? Would he start tutoring young, aspiring artists?

And you…

You’re diving into a stable job, well-paid, well-known. If you end up carrying both of you on your shoulders… would you think of him as a washout? Grow frustrated and dissatisfied?

You’ve been repeatedly declaring your unswerving support, but what if you some day do realise that…

Ugh.

He stuck to this passion with the full knowledge he would never fall out of love with it; but now that he’s working for his dreams, the process seems so scary all of a sudden.

“And I’m at the wedding, too…” he says.

He leans back in his chair, moving his pupils away from the paper and instinctively up to you. More concerns threaten to tumble off the tip of his tongue, but when your eyes suddenly flicker with disappointment, his lips shut again.

You blink, unsure, before you ask, “Do you… not want to go? We could totally stay here if you need the time.”

Oh…

Hadn’t you gushed about the event day in, day out now, he would’ve maybe believed your words. And in some sense, you probably do think of the alternative as okay, as long as he profits from it.

But he sees it in your eyes. And not just in yours — he’s been as enthralled by the idea as you. Which is why…

“No,” he responds, “no. We will go.”

Because the prospect of winding down with you has been keeping him sane. Doting on you under the countryside stars, showing you all you haven’t seen before, body to body dancing with you…

He’s not missing out on that, no matter what.

And god knows you need the break, too… especially after the utter hysteria last Friday…

“Kook, think about it. You need to be absolutely sure,” you argue, genuine worry in your gaze; from his side eye, he sees Namjoon nod in confirmation.

“I am. We’ll go, baby, okay?”

You don’t avert your gaze; your mouth closes a little, but you stay unblinking, waiting for his mind to change. He knows because he sees the thoughts floating at the surface of your eyes.

Like you’re still pondering; of course you are. As someone who’s been working hard for their career, even if just for a few months, you’d know. Who’d understand if not you?

The trance lingers between the two of you, and Jungkook lifts his lips, a vow and certainty in his smile. Moment only broken when Namjoon clears his throat and encourages once more, “Give it a shot, Jungkook… Those high-profile people need to see what you’re capable of! I mean, we’re so lucky to have them coming to our exhibits.”

Namjoon gestures randomly, across the small restaurant as he says, “Say what you will about this city, but we lure in quite a few esteemed artists for sure.”

“Who says something about this city?” you ask.

“I do,” Namjoon’s voice is soothing. One thing Jungkook has learned about him is that his flowery mind never rests. Lyrical; not always easy to understand. “I love and hate it. Leaving it, living it.”

He pauses, sipping on his diet coke before smacking the taste away and ordering, “Ask me anytime if you need any help, alright? And be confident.”

“And… what if it does work?”

Your gentle laugh sounds from the opposite side of the table, the straw of your milkshake on your tongue. The rhythmic melody calms something deep in him; perhaps more because he understands your reaction.

You’re just as cute worrying about things that he knows you’d ace.

“Well,” Namjoon starts, aware that Jungkook knows; still annihilating his unease, “the guy is ready to buy your art. If it goes well, he’ll sponsor you. Then, at some point, you’ll be able to afford your own studio and grow as an artist. Ideally.”

“Ah… ah, really…”

”Kookie,” your voice calls; you lean over the round table, shoving the milkshake aside, “don’t worry. And in the most unlikely case that it doesn’t go as planned, know that I’ll cheer you on either way.”

“And me too,” Namjoon raises a hand.

Your finger swings to and fro between Namjoon and you, and your expression changes from empathic and soft to the sweetest, most gut-wrenching smile he’s ever seen. The apples of your cheeks lift, pupils sparkling when you vow, “We’re here for you.”

He…

He could look at you all day, blinking be damned. Could pour out his emotions every second of every minute of every hour, and it’d still not match the endless letter his heart keeps crafting for you.

Disregarding how much of a shipwreck the two of you were last Friday, his chest has still lightened ever since; an epiphany has never been sweeter.

Because…

The words he couldn’t compose into a poem before are now an ardent confession, with rhymes and a melody and infinite beauty. Roaming his mind nonstop, caught in that baby pink bubble.

When had his senses last heightened this much?

Because somehow, he still feels the damp trail of tears he cried that night. And the heart that beat against your cheek. You, frozen against him, processing his words.

If there are ways to make him fall in love harder, you’ve been presenting them all the goddamn time.

And fuck, it’s been hard focusing on anything but you.

Like, on paying. Or on upholding a conversation with Namjoon — assuring him he’d be back in the studio in a bit as he prepares to bid you goodbye for the day.

To his chagrin, the walk to your car isn’t long. It’s parked at a corner, convenient for lunch dates like these; you promised you’d join one with Joon at some point, and you did. Forty-five minutes passed too quickly. Felt like a moment.

“Namjoon is so nice!” you comment, hands in the pockets of your denim jacket.

You keep swaying back and forth, from your heels to your toes and back. Your smile and movements suggest a free spirit, but your risen shoulders and the shallow crease between your eyebrows drench you in something tense.

You’ve been like that since you suggested staying, focusing on his work.

“He’s so wise, too, really,” Jungkook responds, close to you in case your swinging moves leave you tumbling, “like, a cool mix between calm and dorky. I’ve been learning so much from him.”

“Jeon Jungkook and his love for his mentor. You will never stop talking about him.”

Jungkook shrugs, a hand to the nape of his neck, face warming, “He’s cool, what can I say?”

“Yeah.”

And once again… he sees you gulp. Unsure, pupils flickering. You usually don’t struggle maintaining eye contact. So he soon wonders, “Are you okay? I… I hope you didn’t misunderstand what I said earlier. I really do want to go to the wedding.”

“Hm?” you voice, chin lifting a bit before you dispute, “Oh. No, I believe you. If you say it’s okay, then that’s how it is.”

“What then?”

“What do you mean? Do I really seem like something’s up?”

“A little.”

“Uhm…”

You roll up your eyes as you dig into your thoughts. Scouring your brain for whatever might be meandering in the back of your mind. Hm… seems you’re not fully cognisant of the subtle change in your behaviour, either?

So maybe, it means nothing after all.

Then again. It must be something.

Because in hindsight, he didn’t only notice today, but all weekend, too—

Oh…

Maybe you’re just getting used to the new developments; maybe they’re just making you a bit bashful like him. Maybe…

Okay. Deep breath. He just needs to make it sound like a joke, nothing pushy or odd or awkward because—

“Or is it because I told you I love you? Have I scared you off already?”

He watches your breathing stop. As though flexing an x-ray stare, watching your lungs dry up, air stuck in your throat until it escapes through your nose. Honestly… he’s been feeling the same.

“No!” you answer, tone breathy, pulling a hand out of the pocket to sprightly push at his shoulder. He barely budges. “Of course not. All that does is make me want to faint.”

Jungkook chuckles, delighted when your laugh matches his own. He doesn’t always know how to take a compliment either; but you fix your speechlessness with that glow on your face. Fills his own body with fairy dust, too.

His dimples are valleys when your fingers move to his open jacket, grazing the zipper and filling the seconds with quiet tenderness. He doesn’t know what to say to you until you let the silence prolong and then giggle into it once more.

If he could just dive into your brain. But all he has are his own, messy thoughts.

And those tangled thoughts say—

“Angel… Can I kiss you?” Now his lungs are collapsing, too. Worse, so much worse when you look into his eyes, still so surprised at every sliver of affection he signs. “I really want to kiss you right now.”

No… he needs to. Needs to blossom in this breezy weather. But he won’t tell you that.

He’ll just keep looking at you. One second, two seconds — until you’ve raised your hands to the collar of his jacket to move him closer, soon sneaking your touch further up to his neck. A miniscule and wordless hint of approval, and he basks in it avidly.

Twitching palms hesitate for only the subtlest of moments before they’ve dashed up to your cheeks, cupping your face and leaning in and…

Lock.

A picture of a lock. And of its key.

The first thing to flash into his mind.

Because how do his lips fit so perfectly between yours? When you touch him like this, delicate fingers caressing his jaw, how do you feel so much like a feather? And the damn way you sigh into his mouth… how you reciprocate the kiss.

He will never tire of telling you, telling himself, that you match him just like the ocean complements the shore. And it’s baffling. How perfect this feels, and how right it feels.

You do make the ordinary extraordinary.

Like a kiss that is shared a million times a day, between so, so many people. But you’re moving your lips against his. Holding onto him, tilting your head, soaking in his warmth. Going tentatively, then a bit faster, then slow again.

For the merest moments when your mouths part, you gasp, inhaling before pushing your fingers into his hair, at the back of his head. Then back against him, seeking his tongue; such soft sounds meeting his that he swears he could cry.

Cry about the shiver down his spine and the flutter in the pit of his stomach. About the world becoming a backdrop to everything in the middle of the pavement; and about how his thoughts only revolve around your shared breaths and the feeling of your warm cheeks.

Just you.

You, you, you.

Still too far away. Why do you drive him so incredibly mad?

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He loves you. He loves you.

Under a breath and against your soft pillows, he mutters your name; so airy that he barely recognises his voice. His tongue drags over your lower lip, pecking one more time before he establishes an intruding distance between you.

Your foreheads touch for a transient bit, thumb skimming your cheek. When he opens his eyes, yours are still shut, and you’re feeble in his grip. And then, he asks, “What’s wrong?”

You swallow again. Take a breath before admitting, “You’re right. There’s something I want to ask you, and I was so stupidly… nervous about it.”

“Yeah?”

“The whole gang, they… they’ve been planning something. They paid for it and all, but they’re waiting for me to give them an answer, so they know if I need to pay them back or if they should cancel or, or—”

He interrupts your ramble with a soft, “Tell me, babe.”

“Okay,” your eyelids finally open up; your gaze is so hazy when you look at him. “It’s a trip. Four days, three nights, during the wedding week.” He hasn’t said a word when you hurry to add, “But, we can leave earlier. It’s a road trip kinda thing to the mountains and the beach and. They want us there, too.”

”Oh.”

“…Yeah.”

“I… Baby.” He moves back, shaking his head. He was careful not to ruin your hair, well aware you have half a work day ahead of you; but he still brushes a strand back. “Were you and Eun talking about that two weeks ago?”

“Yeah. And Tae also said I should be the one to ask because you’d like that. But then things happened and all the stress and…”

“But… even before that. Why were you so nervous asking me about it for so long?”

“Because,” you answer, one shrug of your shoulders, “I wanted to wait and see how you feel about the exhibition and the workload. And you already have limited time because of the wedding and I didn’t want to take away more of it.”

He can’t help but beam; why does this feel… endearing? Mirrors his own thoughts when he asked you about accompanying him to the wedding.

“We really do have the same brain, don’t we?” he asks.

“You’d think we’d learn.”

You say it lightheartedly, yet gnaw on your lips. He tongues the inside of his cheek, keeping eye contact, and then queries, “There’s something else, right?”

“Ah, just.”

You look unsure, trying to make sense of your thoughts, but your uncertainty makes him uncertain, too. So he exhales before he prods, “What? What what? Is it something bad?”

“No! Just. They’ve been wanting to do this since the summer. They never talked about it to me because you and I were… you know.” You kiss your teeth, and he uses the second to whoosh away the aching memories. “But they never cancelled for us, either.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because they’d say, and I quote, ‘Just wait.’ They knew we couldn’t stay away from each other even before we did.” You laugh. “Eun told me that day in the kitchen.”

Even before you did?

Untrue. He knew he didn’t want to live without you the moment you left his apartment, tear-soaked and heartbroken.

“Okay…” he starts, “and you were worried because?”

“Because you always get so sad when I talk about the summer. Explaining the context of the trip seemed hard to me, and I didn’t want you to feel guilty.”

Oh…

Shit, man.

“You’re… ahhh… my sweet baby.” He wants to hug you to his chest and never let go. But you’re already running out of time, lunch break nearing its end, so he only grips your shoulders. “You know that it gets better after two minutes, no? Because whatever happened, I have you now.”

He flicks your chin as he has been lately; it cheers you up. Makes you smile a bit, conjures the pout away. Adding to the effect when he says, “Don’t worry so much, my love.”

Another inhale. Then, you admit, “I’m sorry. I dragged it out.”

“It’s okay.”

“So… would you come? Do you think you could take some time off work and all? I’d understand if it’s too much.”

“Hmm… Right before the wedding, isn’t it?”

“Mid-october, yes. We could leave earlier!” you reiterate, hellbent on assuring he’s not obligated to do anything. So sweet, how you scratch your head. “They’d drive on. It’s convenient because it’s all in the same week.”

“Mountains and beach, you say.”

“If you don’t like them, we can stay at the hotel and chill together.”

Shit.

His grin widens with each heartbeat; you notice, because despite your suggestions, you sound more lively now.

And yet, it’s funny you’d question all these things like this at all. Don’t you remember damp cheeks and gentle touches?

Just days ago.

How he was still trembling when you left Eun’s complex. How he stopped you before climbing into the car, much like now, mumbling a timid, “Angel…”

And then retracting when his heart combusted. Looking into your eyes, still red, his own mind filled with nervous fear before settling on, “Nothing. Let’s go home.”

Or how you cried in the living room. How you broke down, terrified he might walk away. How his breath quivered, how his head spun, how he felt like he might throw up or faint or scare you off.

The damn sickness in his stomach until he spat the hidden words for the first time. And the pounding of his heart when you responded with a mumbled, “Kook… How.”

And… how his chest constricted at everything that followed after that. Don’t you remember?

In spite of every indication he threw your way — you still worry so much.

Funny you’d be so nervous around someone who wants to see the entire world with your hand in his.

What did you call it again? Wanting to be brave.

So fucking easy with you.

“How about…” he begins, staring into anticipating eyes, hearing a storm of cheers rumble, “going shopping before we leave?”

Your demeanour changes momentarily. The unsure girl, afraid to hurt him, soon finds her way back to her foundation. You light up, a hand over your mouth; your cheeks must be hurting.

You deliver one, short jump and then pull him back in, kissing his lips once before scattering a couple more pecks next to them. He soon finds himself pushing you towards your car, forcing you back to work, but you have a thousand things to babble about.

He’s adoring all the bright stars in your eyes — now he understands how you feel when you see the same universe in his.

It’s crazy. How effort is never required from your side for him to feel that way. How you only need to breathe and talk and smile and stay.

Stay stay stay.

The word sails and wafts through his dazy thoughts like a silent prayer. Begging and begging; pleading to allow him to pour all his love on you, although he doesn’t need to ask. You always let him anyway.

And he guesses he’s using that permission thoroughly. Maybe that’s why keeps craving and burning for more; why he’s been holding you tighter these nights.

His tiger lily pressed against your heart.

*head in hands* they are so crazy for each other, pls 😭 warmth and reassurances and support and bickering literally build the foundation of their relationship and i love them sm :') for some reason the editing process knocked me out, but i still adore this one so so much, and i hope you guys did, too!! 🥺

feedback is always so so appreciated!! you guys are literally such a freaking supportive bunch and have kept this series alive for so long and i love you to death :( here's to the first one this year!! as always, please consider leaving a like, reblog (with or without feedback!), comments and spammm my inbox with everything that's on your mind hehe <3 any kind of msg makes my day!

and nowww!!!!! moving on to cmi: palette and VACAYYYY!!! mwah mwah 🤍

#jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #bts smut #bts fluff #jeongguk smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts x you #bts imagines #jungkook fic #bts angst #jungkook angst #jungkook

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realmofimagines · 1 year

Text

Don’t Make A Habit of Dying (Simon “Ghost” Riley x Reader)

follow @cowboybxtch (my other account) for more ghost content, as i will not be posting on this blog anymore <3

Wordcount: 3241 Content: swearing, near death, graphic depictions of gore, blood, injury, ghost is in love with u, soap is oblivious, heroic ghost, pre existing relationsip, tension Request: no Note: *just wanna preface this by saying it is not proof read lol* i am absolutely unashamed to be jumping on the ghost bandwagon. i finished the campaign yesterday and honestly i sort of rushed through it bc it was a lot of fun so this is sort of based on one of the missions but it’s all from memory so if anything is wrong or out of place just ignore it and lets call it canon divergence AO3 version here

“Fox, how copy?”

You grunted, clawing at the rain-soaked concrete and grit beneath your fingers as you stretched to reach your communications device. Your head was still spinning from the impact, and your eyes blurred as if you were lying underneath a moving river staring at the wrinkled water surface above. A high-pitched whine resonates in your ears, and you are intensely aware of the urge to vomit.

With a sharp breath, you are able to level yourself onto your knees. Your hand closed around the slippery radio, and you pulled it toward your mouth whilst collapsing your back against a slick brick wall. Your free hand pressed against the sharp, pulsating pain in your abdomen.

“(Y/N), I repeat, how copy?” Ghost’s voice crackled.

You swallowed the dryness in your throat, before pressing the voice activation button on the radio. The strong rush of adrenaline burned in your chest, but it didn’t match the wash of relief upon hearing and recognising Simon’s voice. You closed your eyes and relished in the sensation for a moment.

“I read you.”

He audibly sighed. “Thought I lost you there.”

“Nearly did.”

“You injured?”

You stared down and shakily inspected the palm pressed against your wound. Your fingers came away glistening with rain and blood, and your undershirt was soaked a deep red around the site of the injury. You replace your hand on the wound, applying as much pressure as you can muster with a heavily clenched jaw. As much as you wanted to be honest, you knew that due to the personal obligations Ghost felt toward you because of your secret relationship, letting him know just how hurt you truly were could compromise his position. He would, without a doubt, make his way straight toward you.

“I’m alive.”

“That’s not what I asked, Sergeant.”

“I’ll manage.”

“Good. Are you in sight of the church?”

You blinked hard to clear your vision and glanced around your surroundings. Through a rusted, paint-chipped iron gate, you could see the distant glow of the religious building and gathered that it was about half a mile away. You weren’t sure how much steam you had left in the tank, but you sure as shit were going to use every last drop to get your ass to that church.

“Yeah, I see it.”

“We’ll RV there. Johnny’s on his way now.”

“Copy that.”

“Do you have a weapon?”

You fumbled with your gear, cursing to yourself when you found nothing but empty holsters. All that remained on your person was a singular, small combat knife hidden within your boot, and you silently thanked yourself for taking such precaution.

“A knife.”

“That’s all you need. Stay safe, Fox.”

“Sure, Ghost.”

You released the radio trigger and clipped it back onto the front of your tactical vest. With a deep breath, you managed to pull yourself to your feet with the solid support of the brick wall. Your bloodied hand mixed with the rain, dripping down your chilled fingers and spreading the blood down your arms. You looked like a damn mess. You felt like a damn mess.

You first attempted to push through the iron gate but found it chained and padlocked from the other side.

Never the easy way, you murmured to yourself.

Turning back on yourself, you stumbled through a fruit market. Bruised and trampled limes and apples rolled across the puddled floor, seemingly abandoned in a hurry rather than packed away in their crates. Upon leaning on a stall for aid, you noticed that the civilians, presumably the shopkeepers, had been shot dead in their stalls. It was bloody and gruesome and told the tale of just how relentless the military-for-hire group were.

Your wobbly vision was clouded, and your lashes were thick with rain droplets concentrated with the blood dripping from your head. Your lips and fingers were icy cold, and each breath felt like the air was taking shots at your lungs like they were punching bags. You pressed onwards, however, knowing that if you wanted a chance at living that you needed to make it out of the Shadow’s web, and you could only do so by pushing yourself forwards.

The detour through the fruit market leads you to a couple of Shadow mercs, who chatted idly amongst themselves as if they weren’t standing upon the consequences of their war crimes. Families, including children, cried and screamed in the distance. Gunshots followed, and you tried not to flinch against the sound.

The mercenaries were armed, and they were blocking the only route you had. There was no easy way around this, but you had to improvise given your lack of weaponry and physical power. Your body was betraying you, and try as you might, you’d never be able to take these men in your current situation.

You tossed a beer bottle down the alleyway, hoping to distract them enough to get the upper hand. The left merc stubbed out his cigarette with a sizzle under his boot, before trailing down in the direction of the smashed glass in pursuit of the sound. Noticing your chance, you steadily crouch-walked your way over to the lone hostile and plunged your knife into his side and then into his neck.

“Just an empty bottle. It’s nothing,” the other merc stated, then turning on his heel with a final glance at the broken glass before he whipped his head around with a double take to notice his friend in a gargling heap on the floor, and you standing above him. “What the fuck?!”

He raised his gun toward you, leaving you no choice but to slam straight into him to throw off his aim. His gun flew upwards as he pulled the trigger, spraying an arc of loud, bright bullets into the air whilst you attempted to disarm him. He retaliated with a hard shove, though not before you were able to get your hands on the pistol in his hip holster. You flew to the ground with a thud and splash, but before he had the chance to regain composure and take aim at you again, you’d blasted two rounds into his chest, and then his throat. He collapsed on top of you in a heavy heap.

Another soldier rounded the corner, but you didn’t quite have the energy to recognise the threat before it was a second too late.

You were just lucky that Soap barged through the cafe door on your left and took him down with a clean shot straight through the temple. He turned his gaze from the man on the floor after confirming his death and reached over to you on the ground. He heaved the dead mercenary off of your chest and offered you a strong hand. You grabbed onto him and groaned as he yanked you upright, a firm hand on your shoulder to steady you as you fell towards him. With a concerned eye, he straightened you with a gentle nudge.

“Christ, Fox,” Soap murmured, eyeing the wound on your side. You immediately clutched at it defensively. “You’re not lookin’ so hot.”

You wheezed a breath and mustered a smile. “I’m running on fumes, but I’ll be fine. Let’s just get to that church.”

“Aye, Sergeant. I’ll take front.”

“Be my guest.”

You trailed sloppily behind Soap, cursing yourself for your inability to be as sharp as you usually were. You hated being a burden, but you hated letting the team down more. Your carelessness in the fight that broke out with Graves had cost you a life-threatening injury in a team that refused to leave anybody behind, even if it got them killed. You only worried that if you weren’t going to make it, you wouldn’t be able to see Simon before you went and that you wouldn’t be able to tell him you were sorry.

Your heart ached at the thought.

You and Ghost had been dating, briefly. It happened slowly. First, there were inside jokes, and then there were gentle teasing pet names, and then more than friendly touches… until one night the tension seemed to break, and you slept together, which was just a week ago now before everything went to shit. You almost regretted doing so, for fear that now you’d never get to see him again, to touch him again.

You stumbled to your knees and caught yourself barely by planting your hand solidly on the gravelled floor. Soap spun around and cursed under his breath before reaching for his radio.

“Ghost, we have a situation here.”

He leaned forward and grabbed at your biceps, throwing your arm over his soldier for support.

“What situation?”

“Fox was WIA,” he grunted with a low voice, pulling your body towards cover as a squadron of Shadows passed by in pursuit of the gunshots from only a few moments prior. Any second now, they would find the bodies and be alerted of your presence.

“Don’t piss around the bush, Johnny. How bad?”

Soap studied you with an uneasy glance. “We’re gonna need backup if we’re gonna get the lass outta here.”

“What’s your location?”

“Uh��” Soap paused and checked for any noticeable landmarks. “We’re at the coffee shop just a ways from the fruit market—”

“Hang tight. I’m on my way.”

“What about the RV?”

“Stay put, Serg.”

“Yes, sir.”

The distance from the church to the market was about ten minutes, but Ghost cleared the distance in about four. His eyes were cold and steely behind his mask but became soft and expressive upon noticing your strained face and bloodied abdomen. He was gentle when he leaned for you.

“Jesus Christ, Fox,” he murmured, his tone an edge softer than usual. He leaned toward you to help stabilise you on your feet and apologised under his breath when you yelped in pain. “Who did this to you?”

You grunted and leaned against one of his large arms for support. You blinked the rainwater away from your eyes and maintained eye contact with him. Even now, at a time like this, you felt your stomach flip. You were so in love with him and that somehow made everything scarier.

“One of Graves’ boys. Not sure who. Didn’t get a good look before I killed him.” You answered.

“Atta girl,” Ghost praised. Your heart clenched.

Soap stared on with a worried look, his back tense with stress.

“Hold up,” Soap said, raising a fist before lifting his gun to level his eyes with the sights. mercenaries stormed past the windows, and there was a sudden series of heavy bangs on the cafe door that Soap had barricaded with bar stools. “We’ve got company, Ghost.”

Ghost nodded, and then turned to you with an urgent look in his eyes. “Can you walk?”

You cringed at the stabs of pain and clenched your jaw. “Simon, I’m a liability. Leave me here and I can hold them off—”

“I am not leaving you here!”

You blinked in shock at the intensity of his tone. His eyes beyond the mask seemed desperate, and he clutched your face in a gloved hand as if uttering his silent pleas through his palm. You truly believed him and his words, for there was no reason for a man like himself to lie to you at a time like this.

“I said, can you walk?”

You nodded stiffly.

“Then let’s fucking walk,” Ghost answered, tossing your arm over his shoulder to carry the most of your body weight as he essentially dragged you toward the exit point of the cafe. His other hand gripped his pistol so hard that his knuckles began to numb beneath his glove. “Cover us, Johnny!”

Soap tailed your backs with a raised gun, and Ghost was just able to tug you out of the door before the hostiles blasted through and started swarming the place with bullets. Ghost seemed to lug you along with desperation, as you were practically limping at this point.

“You stupid girl, getting me all worried like this,” he cursed, turning briefly to shoot one of the incoming adversaries before continuing onwards. “Do you know how lucky you are that I’m here?”

He was acting characteristically sharp and dry, but you knew that it was just to glaze over his worry. Ghost didn’t often lose his cool, but you were certainly shaking his faith. You couldn’t judge him for his words and simply offered a weak smile in response.

You heaved a laugh. “Let’s just say I owe you one.”

He seemed to soften. “Let me take you to dinner when this is all over. Call it even.”

“It’s a date,” you wheezed, your words accompanied by laboured breaths. The pain was intense and radiated in waves of white-hot pulses and aches that made you limp and shudder in the agony. Your feet and hands were starting to feel numb, and your head felt like it was full of TV static. You just needed a short break, and then you would be able to continue.

You began tripping over your feet, and albeit he tried to keep you upright, Ghost’s strength wasn’t enough to counter the sudden push of gravity as you slumped to the floor.

“(Y/N)!”

Your face was white, and your eyes rolled back. He was immediately at your side, grabbing your face in his hand to inspect your breathing, and then the pulse on your neck with fingers that he’d torn a glove from. He was momentarily relieved when he felt the feedback of your heart, regardless of how faint it was. It was enough to keep going, to revive the easily extinguishable flicker of hope.

Soap rounded the corner, seeming urgent as he fired shots down the alleyway.

“Ghost, they’re gaining on us!”

“Shit!” He cursed.

Without a second thought, he unsheathed his pistol and handed it over to Soap who took it without question. Simon scooped his arms under your legs and back and held you securely to his chest before nodding at his comrade.

“You keep us safe. That’s an order, Serg.”

“Sure, LT, but we need to get a move on— now.”

“Let’s go!”

You jostled in and out of consciousness. It was soft and gentle, like a slow beat of butterfly wings. You would open your eyes momentarily, but there wasn’t enough adrenaline supply in the world to keep you awake, and things would quickly return to darkness. Your grasp on reality started to slip when the blood loss became critical, and the only thing you were aware of was the bruising grip Ghost had on your flesh and the overwhelming fear that you were about to die.

You vaguely notice the sensation of cold marble on your body, and then the tightness of gauze and tape being wrapped around you.

Ghost was manic as he watched your pale, lifeless body show little to no reaction to his movements. He’d torn your battle vest off and inspected the damage beneath your vest. He’d swallowed his anxiety and wrapped you up as best he could with what little supplies himself and Soap had scrounged from the village and proceeded to perform CPR on you when he noticed your breathing had come to an abrupt stop.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

You couldn’t move.

Thud. Thud. Thud. Crack.

A blooming pain in your ribs.

A warm press of lips on your own, and the uncomfortable sensation of being filled with air.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

The thrum of helicopter blades. Distant shouting. Ghost’s voice.

Ghost’s voice.

“Simon…?”

——

When you next woke, it was a slow and unpleasant sensation. White, fluorescent lights pierced through your eyelids, which felt heavy to open. The sharp sensation of the gunshot in your side felt dull, and you could tell by the swimming sensation in your head that you were drugged. You vaguely recognised the sound of a beeping monitor, and you flinched. The smell of bleach filled your nose.

“Good mornin’, sunshine.”

Your eyes fluttered open, wincing against the harsh ceiling lights. You turned your gaze to the figure hunched over in a small brown chair— a heavily-built man, adorning a balaclava with a skull painted on it. Ghost.

“Simon.”

“(Y/N).”

You attempted to lift yourself into an upright position, and immediately felt a flare of agony that had you coughing out a broken sob.

“Hey, hey, take it easy there, Fox,” Ghost murmured, immediately reaching forwards to settle you back down. You grit your teeth together and blinked away the sudden onslaught of tears that were born from the shock of the pain. He tried to sit back down, but you caught his gloved hand before he could leave and he didn’t have the heart to pull away. His stature immediately softened, and his thumb smoothed over your fingers and knuckles in an attempt to comfort you.

“They outta put more drugs in you. They sure did a number on you. Surprised you’re still with us.”

“I thought I was going to die.”

Simon huffed through his nose and tugged the chair closer so that he could sit beside you and hold your cold hands in his. “I thought you were, too, sweetheart.”

“How the Hell did you get me out of there?”

You couldn’t see it, but by the wrinkle of his eyes, you knew he was smirking. “This old dog still got his ways.”

A concern suddenly popped into your head as bits and pieces of memories began to slot together. “And Soap?”

“He’s fine, unfortunately.”

You smiled gently, feeling yourself relax a little. You turned to him and held his gaze, suddenly feeling intimidated by his sharp eyes. The heart monitor next to your bed began to beep at an increased pace, and your cheeks flushed.

Ghost seemed bemused. “Am I makin’ you nervous, darlin’?”

You buried your face in your hands and only dared to peek through your fingers when you heard him start to laugh.

“Don’t hide from me just yet. You still owe me a date.”

You threw your hands down to your sides and smiled. “Look who’s gone all soft. I wonder what the boys would think of you right now.”

He rolled his eyes. “Don’t make me regret saving you.”

“Don’t kid yourself, LT, you loved playing hero,” you retorted, a glimmer of mischief sparkling through your grin. You suddenly felt the atmosphere become slightly tense and heavy with the weight and reality of the situation. You could’ve and likely should’ve died back there. You weren’t aware enough of your surroundings to remember just what Ghost and Soap went through to get you out, but you could only imagine.

“Thank you, Simon.” You said, more serious this time.

He glanced away as if embarrassed. “It’s nothing.”

You reached closer and grabbed his masked face. In private, he would remove his balaclava just for you. You felt the selfish desire that he would do so just now so that you could kiss him but swallowed your urges for you knew he couldn’t compromise himself in the med-bay. Too many prying eyes.

He grabbed your hand from his face and kissed it, the warmth and pressure of his lips still present even through the fabric on his face. You were butter in his touch, practically melting through his fingers.

“Just don’t make a habit of nearly dying, you hear me? Nearly gave me a bastard heart attack.”

You smiled, staring at him dazedly. “Yes, sir.”

#simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #cod #x reader #angst #injury #pining #ghost is in love #soap mactavish #john mactavish

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madschiavelique · 9 months

Note

Hi! This is my first request, sorry if it isn’t that coherent. Is it cool if I send a hurt/comfort drabble request with gn reader x Miguel?

Maybe something where an enemy takes advantage of Miguel’s lack of spider sense and is severely injured to the point where he can’t keep up his tough exterior anymore. He’d probably dread how vulnerable the situation made him and would want the reader beside him for the next mission, as some kinda filler spider sense after he recovers (or just has them there for comfort but doesn’t wanna admit it LOL)

hiya anon !! this was coherent don't worry hehehe

summary : miguel gets severely injured on a mission and wants you by his sides for all the upcoming ones

content warnings : blood, cuts, miguel almost dying (he doesn't dw), flangst (?), this turns sweet, no use of Y/N, gender neutral!reader word count : 2,2k

tag list : @fandom-ash

Miguel found himself alone on the field. This wasn't usually a problem, as the number of individual missions he'd carried out before forming his entire Spider Society was vast. It hadn't always been easy, of course, but he'd always managed to pull himself up, like a true Spider-Man would.

The rain clattered against the pixels of his suit, thunder rumbling between the dark clouds where skyscrapers sank like daggers into a black cotton belly.

He was out of breath, the anomaly he was facing was the typical weak point of his mutation: it was invisible, and extremely fast, which didn't help as Miguel's Spidersenses were profoundly insignificant, or even to put it simply: non-existent.

If he could get a visual on his target, everything would be perfectly fine. He could carry out his mission like the usual without a care. But invisible? That was undoubtedly his Achilles' heel in anomalies.

His hand was pressed against one of his bleeding sides as he stood breathless on a rooftop. The anomaly kept using its invisibility and speed to make unpredictable sprints to cut him from side to side.

He muttered an insult under his breath, his shoulders, arms and legs riddled with cuts of varying depths that were causing severe pain all over his body.

The anomaly was taunting him, laughing at one corner and then the next second calling out from another. The situation was becoming far too complex, and he could feel that the loss of blood from his body was starting to have an impact, weakening him enormously in this fight. It was more than a weakness actually, it was a real danger.

His eyes were looking in all directions, turning in on himself. Silence and the inability to know where his enemy was had never frightened him so much. He knew very well that the invisible things were just as dangerous as the visible ones, if not more so.

You don't always see love when it's coming, and you sometimes fail to recognise death when it arrives.

Call for help? Yes, perhaps that would be best, no matter how proud he was and how independent he wanted to be. Trying to regain a less shaky breath, he swallowed as he brought his lips to his watch:

"Lyla call the-" but he was cut off instantly by the anomaly that came at him in a flash, slicing into the back of his leg with such power that he fell to his knees with a grunt. The puddle into which he had fallen became darker, the red of his blood mingling with it under the light of one of the neon advertisements on an adjacent building.

He groaned in frustration, bringing the watch up to his mouth again.

"Lyla-" he breathed a little louder, but the anomaly cracked the silence with a high-pitched laugh as he cut into his back with a straight, deep line of his own.

Miguel arched his back, a growl mingling with a cry of desperation and terrible frustration as he lay on the ground.

Was it the rain, or was his vision becoming blurry ?

The anomaly materialised before his tired eyes, kneeling beside him, tilting its head to one side.

"All so," he laughed horribly, "big and strong and muscular." the anomaly grabbed his arm evilly, squeezing his hand over a cut that was burning hellishly, and Miguel let out screams through his teeth.

"But I'll tell you something, big buy," the anomaly said simply, moving a little closer to Miguel, who was beginning to find it harder and harder to stay awake. "In the end, we're all made of flesh that can be cut, and bones that can be broken."

He held up his knife, which the raindrops were cleaning of Miguel's blood, still glued to the blade. He then placed it against Miguel's cheek, his vision completely blurred.

"Lyla," he whispered, barely audible, using what little strength he had left to cry out for help.

He saw the knife rise, thinking to himself, this is it, it's over, he thought.

He murmured something, just something ? No, it was more important than that. He murmured your name.

He wanted, no, needed to see you now. Hear your voice, see you once more before… he just needed you by his side.

He felt so lonely.

He could’ve chosen anyone to be by his sides, heck someone was literally by his side at the moment and it was an anomaly, so he wasn’t exactly alone. But still, still, he wanted you.

The knife elevated, ready to strike him down, the sound of the anomaly’s laughter echoing in his mind in a numb way. And that’s when he saw a bright orange in the reflection of the bloody puddle, and lost consciousness.

He awoke in the infirmary, his eyes gradually adjusting to the whitish light. The aseptic air caught his nostrils, his lips were dry and a slight headache tugged at his skull.

He was lying on a stretcher in a position somewhere between sitting up and lying down. As he tried to straighten up, he was immediately stopped by an intense pain, and immediately tensed up.

"Hey hey hey, easy, easy."

He knew that voice, very, very well indeed. He opened his eyes again, slowly.

You were there, at his bedside, just above him to make sure he didn't try to get up again. He inhaled slowly, breathing hurt a little, and he wrinkled his nose in pain.

"How long was I out?" he asked, his first thought always remaining on the subject of organisation.

"Three days," you replied, standing next to him, arms folded.

"Three d-!" but the rise in his tone made his whole chest ache.

"Hey shh shh shh," you soothed, coming to rest your hand on his cheek to provide a point of anchorage for him in the middle of all of this pain.

"Three days," he breathes against your touch as he squirmed around trying to find a comfortable position without feeling like his whole body was on fire. "It's too much wasted time, I have to go back-"

"You're not going back anywhere for a little while, Miguel." you cut, voice calm.

"But I have to-" his breath came a little sharper.

"Miguel, you're not going to do anything at all except rest." you reiterated.

"Listen to me-"

"No, you listen to me," you interjected this time in a much less calm and more strict tone, which surprised him enough to stop him from continuing to fidget and breathe almost frantically. "You had a near-death experience, Miguel," your words were categorical. "And I refuse to allow you to not recover from that properly just so you can kill yourself at work instead, because... fuck, I was so scared." your voice had trailed off on the last word, broken.

Your eyes avoided his, looking up at the ceiling, biting your lip as your gaze fell back on the countless cuts he had strewn across his body. Your hand, previously on his cheek, came to rest beside him on the stretcher.

And you could feel his eyes on you, expecting your next words.

"When Lyla appeared to us... I had never seen her so serious and anxious at the same time. I have always seen her as playful and," a sigh, "sassy. But then, what she said made my heart drop," you admitted, looking him in the eye, trying to articulate.

A tear rolled down your cheek, and you immediately brushed it away, trying to pull yourself together.

"When we arrived, you were in an indescribable state, you were motionless... gosh Miguel I've never wished so much to see someone make just one movement," you breathed in, wiping away the other hot tears that wanted to flow further down your cheeks. "You can't imagine the relief I felt when they stabilised your state."

He looked at you, lips parted as he listened intently. And he thought of how he had wished you in death to bring him life and how you had wished him in life to stay away from death.

"I stayed, you know? By your side. Days, nights, whenever I could," you smiled, a small breath living your lips as you sniffed.

His heart was overflowing with emotions, all the sensations and thoughts that had taken hold of him during his confrontation with the anomaly coming back vividly to his mind, and yet he felt it all squeezed into his chest.

"I..." his voice grew small, and he swallowed to try and make his throat more cooperative to make the lump that was forming in it disappear.

"I thought... I'd never get to see you again," he admitted, inhaling softly.

His hand came to rest on yours, his fingers gently caressing your skin as you took it in yours.

"I..." his eyes were veiled by a curtain of tears that stung his nose, and he bit the inside of his cheek, looking down at your hands interlaced.

He thought back to the rain that kissed him goodbye, to the thunder that rumbled through the dark clouds as if to lecture him, to the feel of the sharp blade on his skin and the life that was gradually leaving him. But above all he remembered his vulnerability, and the possibility that this moment might be his last.

"It was so cold... I just," a tear finally rolled down his cheek, "I just wanted you to be here," his eyes returned to yours, "with me."

You could see it in his eyes, the fear, the dread that something like this could happen again. You bit your lip, your chin trembling as you gripped his hand a little tighter in yours.

"I need you by my side," he declared.

Your free hand gently wiped the tears from his cheeks, his lids closing.

"I will be by your side," you whispered, "I will protect you."

He breathed in gently, his eyes meeting yours again.

"From now on, everywhere I'll go, you'll go with me," he concluded, and you squeezed his hand in yours again.

"I'll go with you," you agreed, wiping the last tear from your cheek, the salts of your two cries combining on the back of your hand like an oath.

Miguel had recovered well. At first he'd inevitably flinched at the fact that he'd let everything be controlled by someone other than himself, but in the end he'd let it slide.

You came to visit him every day, not only to make your report but also simply to spend time with him. You always brought him empanadas from the cafeteria, knowing how much he loved them. It has to be said that if there was one thing you could often bribe Miguel on, it was empanadas. That and maybe stroking his hair...

When he finally came out of the infirmary, a tiny celebration was held. He didn't like the idea at all, but you knew deep down that the intention behind it warmed his heart.

Life went back to what it used to be, with of course a slight change that surprised everyone.

As agreed, wherever he went, you went. Every spiderperson in the Society had obviously noticed the sudden change. From one day to the next, Miguel couldn't go anywhere without you by his side.

You went on walks with him in the park, you would always eat with him at the cafeteria, you were in his office whenever he was, and it felt to most spiders now that you two would eternally be inseparable.

The time finally came for Miguel to go on a mission, where you would work with him to catch the anomaly but above all to lend him your Spidersenses, which were working to the highest perfection.

The portal formed in front of you, Miguel tensing slightly. You put your hand on one of his shoulders and he turned to you.

"It's okay, I'm here" you remarked.

This simple fact lifted a weight from his shoulders as if by magic. He smiled at you before you put your mask on, his own mask pixelating on his face, and you stepped through the portal.

You reached a rooftop, the gate closing behind you. Silence fell and Miguel tensed. He had no idea where the danger might be coming from.

"Hey, look at me," you said simply.

He turned to you, still as uptight as ever.

"Just breath okay?"

He breathed in gently, relaxing his shoulders as he listened, a little more reassured by your simple presence.

You waited patiently, not moving an inch. And what if you couldn't feel certain sensations either?

But he had nothing to worry about, because you immediately took him by the arm and drew him against the wall of the roof exit, pressing your body against his as next to you a kind of big multicoloured puddle burst violently onto the ground right where you previously were.

He was breathing heavily, his back pressed against the wall, while you were as calm as when you had arrived. His head turned towards yours, your two masked faces immensely close.

"I meant it when I said I would protect you."

He chuckled.

Wherever you go, I'll go with you.

478 notes · View notes

strwberri-milk · 9 months

Note

Hallos!

Would you please write Diluc or Kaeya. They see their lover dance in the rain, and their lover finally sees them. Their lover offers them to dance with them if they'd like.

TYSM. Btw your writing is so smooth, the words just seem to flow.

thank you!! the writing flows probablyl bc i black out when i write LMAO jkjk but i do try to enter a flow state to just get everything out which is why. i have weird errors i never catch lol also where i work i gotta go outside a lot and the other day there was a massive storm and me and my friend decided to just go fuck it and walked back in the storm bc here there's no guaruntee the rain will lighten up and we didnt wanna get trapped on the island where we were at the time and came back up to the main store just. soaked. it was awful i couldnt even wear my shirt anymore

Diluc, as per usual was caught up inside with some work. With the heavy rain he knew his work as the Darknight Hero would be severely impeded so he wasn't planning on going for a patrol this evening, leaving him more time to spend with you. He was just trying to finish his paperwork at this point for the day so he could spend the rest of the evening with you without worrying about anything else.

You had found a way to entertain yourself without Diluc, hearing the slight roll of thunder in the distance and preoccupying yourself with a small impromptu picnic on the steps to the manor while you waited for the rain to come down.

In about an hour Diluc heard the sound of raindrops hitting against the ground. The rain was slight and barely coming in so he decided to keep his window open for the fresh air to come through, almost missing the sound of your laughter on the ground.

He stuck his head out, trying to look for you when he saw you just happily dancing around in the rain. You were singing to a song in your head, swaying to the beat you imagined as the rain comes down. It didn't drown you out with how soft it was coming down, but he was getting worried that you'd get cold from being outside and wet.

Diluc was about to call out to you when you looked up and met his eyes with a huge smile. He couldn't tell you no now with how happy you looked. Instead, he comes down and opens the door, watching from the doorway as you skip around.

He should have expected you to march right up to him, pulling him under the rain and making his already unruly locks even worse. He sees the curling up as you pull him around to the number you've made up, sighing good-naturedly before pulling you into his arms.

You're a little surprised until you feel the heat of his body get a little warmer, the slight glow of his vision telling you that he was using it to keep you warm. His arms wrap around your waist, making you slow down to the rhythm of a smooth waltz and keeping you there, nice and cozy. Now, the two of you can dance as much as you want to without Diluc having to worry about you freezing.

Kaeya was inside trying to make some dinner. You were supposed to be running some errands for him when he discovered some of the ingredients he wanted to use were missing. Thankfully they weren't anything too major but he was hoping that he could have them in a timely manner to ensure everything tasted as perfect as he wanted it to.

He didn't expect to hear the door open for just a split second, groceries getting plopped onto the ground before you run out of the house again. He goes to investigate what you're trying to do, seeing you laying in the grass for a bit as the rain just starts to come down.

Curiously, he continues to watch what you'll do as the rain comes down harder, cringing a little as he realises it's taking you a while to get up. Hopefully, you don't track too much mud into the house later, but if this is how you want to have fun he's not going to stop you.

When the rain starts to pour a little you finally get up, practically frolicking around the yard as he recognises you dancing around. He smiles to himself, still watching from the safety of the inside of the house as he hears the sound of your muffled laughter.

it takes you a while but you finally notice that he's just been watching you for the last little bit. When he doesn't make a move to come outside with you you pout a little, gesturing for him to open the door. When he finally does, you continue to motion for him to come outside, Kaeya doing so a little hesitantly. He just doesn't like the feeling of wet clothes if he can help it, at least able to slip on some waterproof boots.

You try to get him to dance with you, taking his hands in yours as he follows your slightly erratic movements. He's just trying not to accidentally use his vision, thinking that accidentally giving you hypothermia would not be fun in the least.

After his initial reservations are assuaged, he pulls the most romantic moves. He kisses you softly in the rain, twirling you around before pushing your body into a deep bend. You swear if he weren't there to catch you you'd just fall onto the ground.

His strong hold keeps your body afloat as the two of you dance, Kaeya whispering the sweetest things he can muster as you keep each other warm in the chill of the rain.

#diluc x reader #diluc ragnvindr x reader #kaeya x reader #kaeya alberich x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader

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ianales · 2 months

Text

illicit affairs (Cheater!Lo’ak x Omatikayan! Reader)

a/n: hope you guys enjoy this! there might be a part 3? hopefully you guys would like this mini series?

after outing Lo’ak as a cheater, things happened…

disclaimer: maybe hinting towards as Neteyam x reader?? tell me what you guys think!

ps. gif is supposed to be like neteyam’s reaction to lo’ak cheating LOL

sorry for a late post, life has been hectic lately :(

part 1 ——— part 2

“L-Lo’ak is this true?” Tsireya questioned.

“No- no i don’t know what she’s talking about”- He responds, stuttering. He turns to look at his brother, Neteyam, he was pissed.

Neteyam walked over to (name) and gave her a side hug and greeted (name)

“I told you it wasn’t a good idea Lo’ak! you never listen”

“Lo’ak.. its true…?” Tsireya had this look in her eyes, it was difficult to read, like she was heartbroken, but there was more. there was disappointment.

she sat in her tent, fidgeting with the promise bracelets they shared, she looks back in her own memories, come to think of it, his own wrist seemed to miss one, he threw it away, she took the bracelet off her own wrist, throwing it towards the tent’s opening.

her eyes traveled as a blue hand catching the bracelet. Neteyam.. she recognised almost immediately at the arm band he wore

“this is your bracelet, tìyawn…” love

“did you know?” she asked, ignoring the nickname he used, which he gave her when they were teenagers.

“i knew, everyone knew… everyone disapproved.. we have no way of communicating, tìyawn.. i couldn’t tell you if i wanted to…” he says, walking in the tent and sitting next to her.

“i know… i shouldn’t blame you… its all his fault that”-

“skxwang?” he chuckles light heartedly

“yeah… skxwang..” she gives the same energy back, she leans her head on Neteyam’s shoulder, “why would he do this, Teyam? is it me? am i not talented enough? am i not pretty enough?”

“thats nonsense tìyawn.. you’re the best na’vi there is…”

before she got to respond, a gentle voice called out from outside the tent. “hìtxoa…? (excuse me) u-um.. its Tsireya.. i know you probably wouldn’t want me to talk to you but i just wanna talk and”-

she looks up from Neteyam’s shoulder, “n-no um… you can come in… you seemed just as shocked as me..”

Tsireya walks in, a gentle smile on her face, and a basket of fruits “im… im so sorry.. i had no idea he was already mated with another.. he told me there was no one.. and the others failed to inform me…”

She accepts the fruit bowl and smiles painfully at Tsireya, “its…. its okay… i mean it hurts.. but its not your fault… it’s Lo’ak’s really… for being unfaithful.. and for lying to you…”

“Lo’ak told us.. that he.. he already told you about (name)….” Neteyam spoke up.

“N-no there was nothing.. he told me he was the only one he loved and everything..”

(Name) felt more pain, holding Neteyam’s hand for support, which he gladly allowed.

“y-yeah… he tends to say.. that type of stuff.. thanks for the fruits by the way…” she said to Tseriya.

“no problem… i hope theres no bad blood between us..”

“oh god no! no.. you were hurt too.. betrayed…”

“yeah… i.. i hope to talk this out with him… hopefully.. i… i don’t know why im talking about this with you..”

“its alright…. im… i just need some time”

the rest of the day Neteyam was comforting (name) in every way possible, he brought her out to make a new bracelet, a matching one with him, he brought her to go hunting with him, which she doesn’t normally do but cheered him on once he caught something, now they sat by a stream, their feet dipped in the ankle length water.

“you don’t deserve him tìyawn….” he spoke from the silence. “you need someone who will appreciate you.. who will…. be there for you when you need them.. who will support you and love you…someone like…”

“you?” she said sarcastically.

“no.. not me.. i guess..” he chuckled awkwardly. “i mean only if you”-

“you’re like a bother to me Neteyam.. a very supportive brother… thank you..”

“yeah… im glad that you see me.. as a brother.. we should head back now tìyawn..”

she nods taking his hand in hers and head back to camp, little did they know, another navigator stood in the shadows, jealous eyes on them.

@ok-boke @myh3artttt @idcalol @cherrybomb5000 @tealtadpole566 @random-3455 @slayingqueenchal @hgccs-blog @emery-333 @papichulo120627 @littlewinchester1 @optimisticsandwichgladiator @r3d0n33 @neteyams-wh0re @satankilledmyghosts @zorosthreesworldstyls

#atwow #atwow fanfiction #atwow neteyam #atwow loak #atwow x reader #loak sully #avatar loak #loak cheats but its okay because we might end up with neteyam #loak cheater #tseriya #atwow x you #literature #james cameron avatar #james cameron please

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holdmytesseract · 1 year

Text

Found

Daryl Dixon x fem!Reader

Summary: After the fight with Daryl, you ran away. The archer feels guilty and decides to look for you. The problem? You can't be found... Neither in Alexandria, nor in the Kingdom - what leaves him in utter worry...

Warnings: the usual TWD stuff, angst, injuries, Leah being a pain in the ass, lots of fluff and Daryl being protective!

Set in Season 9 - not 10, lol...

Word Count: 4k - whoops...

a/n: Part 2 to 'Lost' is finally here! 😁 Thanks for being so hyped about this! ☺️ I had a lot of fun writing part 2 and I mean... I clearly couldn't just leave it like that, right? Daryl needs to get his girl back, right? 😁 I really hope y'all like it!

Tagging: @in-this-minute @thefemininemystiquee @hotgirlsshareaccounts @azanoni @lokisgoodgirl @goobysgoobers @fuseburner @bymailin @hr-nm-grnd-zr

If you want to be added to my Daryl taglist, let me know!

MASTERLIST

He heard the blood rush into his ears, felt the pain in his chest, as he watched her ride away. Out of his sight - out of his life. Daryl wanted to run after her and find the right words to make it all alright again, but his feet were like glued to the ground. He couldn't move. All he could do, was stare after the woman he loved and blame himself for being such a stupid idiot.

"Who is that?" The familiar voice of Leah urged suddenly to his ears. Only now did he recognise, that she had walked over to him and was standing now directly beside him. "Daryl, who is that?" Leah repeated her question. The archer sighed, felt the stinging tears in his eyes. "Y-Y/N." "No." He heard her say, as she stepped in front of him with crossed arms, blocking his view. "Who is she?" Of course knew Daryl what she meant, but the last thing he wanted was to discuss that with her now. "My friend." Leah shook her head. "Oh come on... You can't fool me. She wasn't just a friend. You said you love her. Do you say that to every friend?" Daryl shook his head, "I don't wanna talk 'bout that with ya." and tried to walk past Leah. He had to find you. But she didn't let him. She stood in his way, stopping him. "No, you're not just walking out of this!" Daryl tried it again, but once more Leah stopped him and placed both her hands on his chest in an attempt to push him back - what barely worked. "Tell me! Who is that woman?! Is she your girlfriend?!" The collision was inevitable now. The man was aware of that. "Yes, she is." Leah scoffed, looking at him incredulously - almost offended at his words. "Your girlfriend?" Slowly, but surely, Daryl began to lose his temper at the petulant behaviour of Leah. "Yeah. Got a problem with that?" Another scoff. "Isn't that obvious, Daryl?! Yes, yes, I do have a problem with that?!" "Why?!" "Because I thought you and I were a thing?!" His brows furrowed in disbelief. "What?! No! We ain't somethin'!" The woman's jaw dropped. "You call this nothing, but what you have with that poor excuse of a woman is something?! Are you shitting me?!" The archer shook his head, offended by his so-called friend's words. "Nah. That 'poor excuse of a woman' means everything ta me. I love 'er and I certainly ain't goin' to lose 'er, 'cause of you!" With those words he quickly grabbed his crossbow, slung it over his shoulder and passed the angered woman by. He had to find you. That was all that mattered now. "Fine! Fuck off! Just know that I won't give up without a fight!" Daryl ignored her. He didn't give a shit about that now. He had way more important things to do...

First off, he got his bike. Pulling away all the branches, leaves and undergrowth he had disguised it with, to free the vehicle from its hiding spot. He quickly checked on it, made sure that everything was working, before he swung himself on it and quickly followed your traces. Unfortunately, he lost them after a while. There were just too many hoof prints. He was a very good tracker, but keeping different hoof prints apart was even for him a difficult task. Cursing under his breath, he decided to go to Alexandria first; search there. It was your home, after all, so the chances were high that you possibly went there. Turning his bike around on the slightly muddy path, he drove to Alexandria.

It had been a while, since he lastly set foot behind those high steel walls. Weeks. Months. Nevertheless, he felt immediately welcomed by its people - despite the long time he's been away. Daryl passed by a lot of familiar face, who greeted him and gave him a smile. Rosita, Aaron, Siddiq, Gabriel - yes, even Eugene. But the happiest greeting he received, came from a whole different person... "Daryl!" He had been just on the way to your house, when a soft, delicate voice called out his name. Of course, he knew exactly to whom the voice belong to, so he stopped in his tracks and turned around. Despite all the troubled feelings coursing through his system, he couldn't help but to smile softly, when a little girl with a hat came running his way. "Daryl!" She exclaimed happily once again, and before he could even blink, she was wrapped up in his arms for a hug. "Hey kid." He said, in a low gruff voice. "Ya alright?" The little girl nodded, before she stepped back from the hug, still smiling brightly. "You too?" He just gave her a nod, even though he was everything but alright. "You're back!" Another nod. "Only for now. 'M lookin' for Y/N. Do ya know where she is? She here?" Just as Judith wanted to answer, another voice cut through the air. "She isn't here. She left three days ago, headed for the Kingdom to help them." Michonne. Daryl looked up, straight in the face of his friend, who now began to smile. "Hey. Great to see you." The archer straightened up, "Yeah, likewise..." and gave her a nod as well. "Y/N ain't 'ere?" Michonne shook her head. "No, I'm sorry. If you want to see her, you have to go to the Kingdom." "Alright, thanks." Daryl turned on his heels and wanted to leave, when his friend stopped him. "Why don't you stay a while? Get some rest and food." "Nah, ain't stayin'. I can't." He just said and walked away, before Michonne or even Judith were able to say something again. Swinging himself back on his bike, he left Alexandria and headed as fast as his motorcycle could go to the Kingdom.

The gates of the Kingdom got opened for him as well, of course. It may have been a long time since he was in Alexandria, but it was an even longer time since he had lastly visited the Kingdom. He got greeted warmly nevertheless. Word spread at lightning speed that the archer was here, so it was no wonder when he was soon face to face with his best friend. "Oh, hello stranger." Carol greeted him with a smile, arms crossed over her chest. "What are you doing here, huh?" Daryl got off of his bike. "Searchin' for Y/N... She here?" The woman with white-grey hair frowned, "Y/N? No." and shook her head. "She's not with you? She wanted to go to you; left the Kingdom this morning." Fuck. Daryl groaned in frustration and cursed himself now even more for letting you just ride away. Now you were lost - and it was his fault. His mind started to spin wildly. What if something happened to you? What if you were hurt? Got attacked? Or God forbid... Bitten by a walker? Worry took over his mind - something what Carol seemed to notice straight away. "Okay, what happened?" Daryl chewed on his bottom lip, shaking his head. "Was an idiot... Messed everythin' up." Carol looked at her best friend critically, quirking her eyebrows, while crossing her arms over her chest once again. "You messed up?" The archer swallowed, nodding. "Big time." "What did you do, Daryl?" "Remember when I told ya about that woman? Leah?" "Your friend?" Once more he shook his head. "She ain't a friend. Wouldn't call 'er that. More like acquaintances." Carol thought for a moment, then nodded. "Yeah, right. I can remember her. What about her?" "Well..." Daryl started, fumbling nervously with his hands. "Y/N saw me 'n her together, sittin' at the river, talkin'... Leah, uh, kissed ma cheek 'n now Y/N's thinkin' I cheated on her - which I never would. Ya know me!" The archer huffed out frustrated, lowering his head, which caused some brown strands of shaggy hair to fall in his face. "I tried to explain 'er, that Leah and I are jus' friends, but... She ain't listened ta me." Carol shook her head. "I told you to be careful with that woman. Why did you let her get this close to you? Didn't you see that she is more than just in a friendly way interested in you?" Now it was Daryl's turn to shake his head and helplessly shrug his shoulders. "No, I... I thought she jus' wanted some company, 'cause she's alone too..." His best friend sighed. "You really are an idiot sometimes... And blind..." "Tell me somethin' new..." He said in a sad tone, lifting his head once again, before he turned to walk away. "Gotta go, keep on lookin' for 'er." Carol nodded and reached for her bow and arrows. "I'll come with you." "No. Stay here. In case Y/N comes back." The woman sighed, but agreed. "Alright. Take care, yes?" Daryl nodded and swung himself on his bike. "Always do." "I know, but you are not in your right mind at the moment." Daryl just looked at his best friend for a moment, before he started the vehicle and quickly drove passed the steel doors, leaving the Kingdom behind himself.

The archer had no other choice now, than to somehow try to track you down and search every nook and cranny of the area. He just had to find you - even if you probably didn't want to be found by him. Just to make sure that you were safe. It was his top priority. Keeping you safe and making sure you were alright - and now he realised, that he didn't make sure of that all those past months and years. He trusted the safety of Alexandria's walls, instead of doing it himself. He should've taken you with him. On this way he would've never needed to fear for your life right now. He would've never lost you. If something happened to you know, it was going to be his fault - and he would need to live with this for the rest of his life. Something he clearly never could. Yes, he had to find you - as fast as somehow possible.

With the clock ticking; minutes turning into hours, Daryl got more and more worried. He followed a trace already a few times, always thinking it could be yours, but it always led him to something different, or it came to nothing and was just a dead end. Well... The wood was big and the possibilities almost endless. You could be everywhere and nowhere.

Another hour - maybe even hours (Daryl couldn't tell.) passed. The archer had got rid of his bike a long time ago, hiding it in the thicket and kept on searching on foot. He thought that this was probably the better option.

The sun hung low in the sky by now, telling the man that it would get dark soon. There was only an hour, probably two left he could search in daylight. He was still looking up in the cloudy sky, when a noise suddenly caught his attention. A noise, which sounded like the neigh of a horse. Looking around and checking his surroundings, Daryl quickly followed the sounds - and indeed found a stray horse... A saddled stray horse. Your horse - but you weren't with the majestic animal... The horse was in a complete tizzy; clearly afraid and in panic. Daryl could tell. He approached the animal slowly, hands raised as if to signal the stallion, that he wasn't a threat. "Hey... I ain't gonna hurt ya, okay?" He made another few steps, getting closer. "I promise..." When Daryl had reached the troubled horse, he touched the ridge of his nose, in order to calm the frightened animal down. The stallion's nostrils flared. Daryl could feel his warm, ragged breath against his arm - but minutes later after speaking quietly to him and petting him gently, your horse seemed to calm down. "Yeah, that's it. Good boy." The archer moved his hand, petted his neck. "Where's Y/N, huh?" He was very worried by now. You wouldn't just send your horse away. That was very unlike you. His mind raced a mile per hour; dozens of possibilities running through his head what could've happened to you. Maybe the stallion was afraid of something and unseated you? In that case you were more than likely injured - and with that, easy prey for the walkers. Daryl shook quickly his head. No... He couldn't think about this now. All that mattered now, was to find you. Not the what ifs. "Come on, boy. Let's go find Y/N." He took the reins of your stallion in his hand and continued his search. He hoped, that he was close to finding you finally. Finding your horse was at least a good start. Daryl tried to track you now with the help of the horse's hoof prints, leading the animal back to where it came from - and he was successful...

The traces led him to a slim, but long riverbed, which was surrounded by trees and hills. Unfortunately, the traces stopped straight at the cliff. Daryl looked down, scanned his surroundings. Nothing. So, he decided to just follow the riverbed, upstream; in the hopes of finding you - and he did. About ten minutes later, he stopped in his tracks once again and looked around, eyes especially focused on the riverbed beneath him. His gaze came to an abrupt halt, when he saw something rather big laying in the shallow water. Squinting his eyes, he noticed it was a body. It could be a walker - or you. Of course, he decided to check on it, so he marched quickly forward, taking the horse with him. "Come on."

The closer he got, the bigger became his steps. Reaching the point, where he had spotted the body, the archer stopped. His eyes focused again on the body - widening mere seconds later in shock. It was indeed your body, laying motionless in the shallow water. Daryl felt how his heartbeat quickened. Hopefully you were just hurt and unconscious and not dead. "Stay." He told the horse, which would hopefully stay and made his way as fast as possible down the hill. Being focused on his path ahead, Daryl didn't notice the lonely walker trudging through the water - straight into your direction...

A few minutes later, he had finally made it down to the riverbed. Getting to you, was the only thing on his mind right now. Barely after he had lifted his head, the next shock rippled through his body. A lone walker, getting on its rotten knees beside you, ready to take a bite. Oh no, he thought. "Nah, you ain't takin' her away from me, you filthy piece of shit." At lightning speed, he loaded his crossbow and shot. The arrow hit its target perfectly, piercing the walker's skull and causing it to fall limp and lifeless on the ground beside you. There was no holding back now. Daryl quickly ran towards you, falling on his knees beside you, making the water splash around him. "Y/N?! Y/N?!" He took your head gently in his hands, checking your pulse and trying to wake you up. When he felt your beating carotid beneath his fingertips, a relieved breath left his lips. Thank god, he thought. You were still alive. "Y/N?" Daryl called out your name again and gently shook your shoulder. Your body twitched the slightest bit, before your eyes fluttered open. Y/E/C orbs looked up at his face, mustering it. "D-Daryl?" You whispered, clearly only halfway conscious. "I'm here, Y/N, I'm here." A shallow smile slipped on your face. "Daryl." He nodded, thumb grazing your cheek softly. "I got ya, sunshine. I got ya. Always do. Always will." You smiled again, before you slipped into the dark depths of unconsciousness once again, while Daryl checked on you. He immediately noticed the big wound on the side of your head. Moving further down your body, he saw a few scratches on your hands and a big gash on your left shin as well. He fumbled for his rug and wrapped it around your leg, in order to staunch. He checked his surroundings for any walkers, but the coast was clear. "Alright. We gotta go. It's gettin' dark." So, he lifted you up as careful as possible and carried you over to the hill. Of course, he couldn't get you up there, so he had to lead the horse down the luckily not too steep cliff and somehow managed to get you on the horse, before he climbed on the stallion's back as well behind you. Daryl caged you in between his arms to keep you from falling and steadied your head against his chest. He couldn't care less about the fact that he was getting himself wet, due to the fact that your clothes were literally soaked. All Daryl wanted was to get you as fast as possible back to the Kingdom and a doctor to check on your injuries.

It was pitch black outside, when Daryl finally reached the Kingdom. The steel doors got opened immediately, of course and a doctor was as well within minutes at your side. Although you didn't notice anything of what was going on around you. Not how they stitched up your wounds and administered you some medicine, neither how worried Daryl was or how he sat by your bedside, holding your hand, until you finally regained consciousness again.

Your eyes fluttered open once again, meeting an almost entirely dark room. The only source of light came from somewhere beside you. The first thing you noticed was the dull pain in your head and leg, causing you to hiss softly. The second thing you noticed, was the big, warm hand enveloping yours. Tilting your head slightly down, you saw nobody else than Daryl sitting on a chair beside you, looking utterly worried, tired and worn out. You tried to speak, but your throat was completely dry. All that left your lips were some strange sounds - something the archer noticed immediately. His eyes snapped up to meet yours. "Y/N! Yer awake!" You tried to speak again, but nothing. So, you gestured to your throat. Daryl understood, of course and reached for the glass of water on your bedside table, before his free hand disappeared underneath your head, lifting it gently, in order to help you drink. "T-Thank you." "’Course." You blinked a few times and looked around. "W-Where am I and w-what happened?" Daryl took a deep breath. "I was searchin' for ya the whole day... Found yer horse and followed the traces, which led me to that riverbed, where I found you. Injured and seconds away from gettin' bitten. I brought ya back to the Kingdom. Was closer than Alexandria." You swallowed hard and nodded. "What happened to ya?" Daryl asked carefully, voice still laced with worry. "Can you... remember?" You nodded once more. "Y-Yeah... After our fight, all I wanted was to run away, so I just rode through the woods, not caring about where my horse would lead me. At some point I was on top of those cliffs and then everything happened kind of fast. Something scared him - I don't know what. It definitely wasn't a walker. That much I can tell. It... came out of nowhere, so he unseated me. I hit the ground and hit my head, I guess." You explained and reached for the glass of water once more. Daryl was again quick to help you drink. "When the horse unseated ya on top of that cliff... How did ya got in the riverbed?" "Well..." You started, your demeanour suddenly shifted, turning bitter and sad. "Your new girlfriend got me there." Daryl's heart almost stopped at your words and he grimaced at the term you used. "L-Leah got you there?!" "Yeah. When I reopened my eyes, I saw a figure hovering above me and felt the ground move underneath me. She dragged me towards the cliff and helped me stand up, before she pushed me over the edge, causing me to fall over, of course. On my way down, I hit a stone and well, something must've cut my shin, too. If I didn't just hit my head real bad a few minutes ago and if my vision would've been clear and straight, I would've fought that bitch and tried to stop her, but I couldn't." The archer just stared at you, speechless. He couldn't believe that a kind woman like he thought Leah was, would do something like that, but then he remembered her words... Just know that I won't give up without a fight! It only proved to him once more, that he was deceived in her. He felt how anger bubbled up in his system. Leah almost caused him to lose the woman he loved. Maybe that was her plan after all. "You don't believe me, do you?" Your words ripped Daryl out of his thoughts. He quickly pushed his anger aside. Now wasn't the time for this. He needed to get things right between you and him.

"Nah, of course I do. There ain't a reason to not believe ya." He shook his head. "'M so sorry, Y/N. For everythin'. You didn't deserve this. All of it. I was an idiot." You crossed your arms over your chest. "Yes, you pretty much are. It hurts, Daryl." "I-I know, but please, let me explain now." You sighed, but nodded. "Go on." "Leah's not ma girlfriend. I met - or well, rather found 'er a few months ago. She was alone, so was I, so we just became companions. There was never more than that, I swear." You frowned. "But... She touched you, kissed you on the cheek... Daryl, that's not nothing." "I know, but it was her, not me. Guess she had a thing fer me or somethin', but I didn't know! I didn't see through her intentions, 'cause..." He tried feverishly to explain. Daryl had been never good with words, but he needed to be good right now. "Because?" "'Cause all I ever thought about was you. I love ya, Y/N. Always did, always will. That ain't goin' to change. I never saw it clearer than I do now. Gods, I felt like dyin' when I watched ya leave - and don't get me started when you were missin'. I was worried sick, almost shit my pants." His words went straight to your heart, pulling at your heartstrings. You knew you should be pissed at him. You knew you shouldn't just forgive him, but... What he said and how he was looking at you now - like a lost and beaten puppy... You couldn't. After all, that man was the love of your life - and oh how much you still loved him. And besides, if he wouldn't go out there to search for you, you would be more than likely dead now. "Oh Daryl..." You lifted your hand to cup his beardy cheek, causing his eyes to meet yours. "You really are an idiot..." You started to smile. "But you're my idiot." He blinked. "Does that... Does that mean yer comin' back ta me?" A soft giggle left your lips. "I was never gone, my love. Just... off track." The corners of Daryl's mouth lifted slightly as well. "You're forgivin' me?" "I do, but you gotta make it up to me." The archer nodded quickly. "'Course, sure. I'll do anythin' for ya, sunshine. Whatever ya want." "Then stay with me." You said, taking his hand in yours. "Just be here. I never want to miss you again." Daryl gave your hand a squeeze, smiling. "Promise." That was all you wanted and needed to hear. You reached for the lapels of his shirt with your free hand and pulled him down to you. Daryl understood your intentions and locked his lips on yours.

But as quick as the kiss started, as quick was it over again, when Carol entered the room. "The trouble in paradise is cleared, like I see." Her words caused you both to split apart, startled by her sudden appearance. She just smiled down at you two, arms crossed over her chest.

#daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon #daryl x reader #daryl dixion imagine #twd daryl #the walking dead fanfic

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axel-skz · 1 year

Text

You’re not funny…

A/N: I feel not tired at all and kind of nauseous. I think I’m severely dehydrated but drinking the water gives me even more nausea so… tf do I do? Write a fanfic and ignore my problems. I did not proof read it and It’s not a literary masterpiece so please, lower your expectations lol (shuffled my stray kids playlist and we got thunderous this time ;) for our boys thunderous dance moves (I mean that was terrible but I wanna play a song for every fic now so, yeah lol))

Summary: Minho is expecting a nice weekend together that he needed very much but you’re planning to play a prank.

Minho x Gender neutral reader

Minho had been getting frustrated very fast lately. Getting burnt out a lot because this comeback had been so demanding. He could see all the work coming too because they had been told, they were going on tour.

Now he was agitated because he was working all the time and he couldn’t spend time with his loved ones.

He knew what would make him feel better though. Spending time with you. All he was looking forward to all week was a whole weekend with you.

What he didn’t know was that the perfect storm was brewing. At the time where he wanted nothing but affection fhe most, you had the plan to play a prank on him.

You would try your best to swerve anytime he wanted a kiss or a hug. You had seen it on tiktok a lot recently and you just really wanted to try it out.

Horrible timing honestly but you had no idea.

He had called on monday and you would both be spending the weekend together. He hadn’t told you about the tour either because he hadn’t got the chance to. You would never be playing this prank if you knew.

Friday afternoon, he arrives. You hear him knocking on your door and instantly, you ready yourself. Usually you would run to him in the most dramatic way possible and give him a hug. He acted like he hated it but it made him feel wanted.

While he thought about how much he needed that hug, you were making sure you wouldn’t do it. As you opened the door, he stood there for what felt like a century, expecting the hug. You looked st him with confusion.

‘You good?’ You asked with a puzzled look.

‘You usually hug me when you open the door,’ he also looked extremely confused.

‘Oh, you hate it so I thought I wouldn’t do it. Come in,’ you smiled at him. As he walked in, you took the things he was carrying. It was your way of busying yourself.

He let out a sigh as he sat on the sofa, ‘I’m so tired. I could barely sleep yesterday.’

‘Aww, that’s sad. Have you had a hard time sleeping for a while or just last night?’ You came back after putting his bag in your room.

He looked at you and you could see how tired he was, ‘all week. So much work and I just don’t even want to think about it. It’s early as hell but can we watch a movie and take a nap?’

Code for watch something and cuddle. He wasn’t one to just outright ask for physical contact so you had gotten use to recognising when he wanted it and how he asked.

‘Of course we can do that,’ you smiled at him and set up everything for a movie.

You got some sweets and popcorn with the softest blankets. You picked a feel good movie that you both really liked and started to get settled. You played the movie and sat down on the floor.

He was surprised, ‘why are you on the floor? There’s plenty of room on the sofa.’

‘You should stretch out and get comfy. It’ll be easier to fall asleep. I have some work I need to do so I’ll sit here and do it when you fall asleep,’ you said while feigning interest in the movie.

It’s like you could feel him pouting. And he was.

‘Could you not do the work tomorrow?’

‘I’m sorry, my love. It’s urgent. I need to get it in by the end of the day.’

‘S’okay…’ he covered himself in blankets and got comfortable. He didn’t let it show just how hurt he was by it.

He fell asleep after a little while. He woke up a couple hours later and you had nodded off while working on the floor. Your brief was on the table and he looked at it.

He tried to help you with your work sometimes because you liked his opinions on it. As he read through it, he noticed it wasn’t due for another two weeks. That hurt him again because he didn’t understand why you lied.

He moved back and laid back down. He didn’t know how long he stared at the cieling before you woke up. He pretended to sleep when you got up to check on him. You picked up your stuff after you fixed the blanket so it was covering him properly.

After that, you started cooking for dinner. He took a little while before he got up. He acted groggy as he walked into kitchen. You heard him shuffle in and it was so hard not to hug him when he looked so cute with the wayward hair and the puffy cheeks.

‘Sleep well?’ You asked as you moved to the fridge.

‘Mhm, something about this place helps me sleep,’ he smiled.

‘Pff- you’re so sweet,’ you giggled a bit as you gave him some juice.

‘I was talking about your sofa and the tv but whatever helps you sleep at night.’

You playfully glared at him, ‘they’re mine and they help you so ultimately, it’s all me.’

You began washing some extra pots as you let him know what you were cooking and that it was almost done. You felt him get up and walk over. As he got closer, you quickly put what you were washing down and moved away to the stove.

A look of hurt and confusion flashed on his face for a second but it was gone as fast as it came. He followed to look at the food but kept a little distance. He didn’t understand at all what was going on.

You guys set the table up and ate your meal.

He was extremely silent the whole time and it was a very awkward 25 minutes. He offered to do the dishes and as he grabbed the last one, he leaned in to kiss you out of habit as he said thank you. You swerved and this seemed to be his breaking point.

He froze for a moment but then put the plate down and kneeled next to you. He took your hands in his and he looked into your eyes.

‘Y/N, what have I done? I don’t remember doing anything to hurt you and that may also be bad but whatever it is, I’m sorry. Please just tell me and let me fix it,’ he looked so torn up inside and it hurt your heart to see him like that.

And then you broke. (Because you would be a menace to society if you didn’t finally tell him what was going on)

‘I’M SO SORRY! Hold on… I’ll explain,’ You pulled him off the floor and took him over to the sofa. You both sat down. ‘It was such a stupid idea but I saw this prank on tik tok and I wanted to do it.’

The sad look on his face hurt your soul, ‘so you don’t hate me?’

‘God no! I could never!’ You leaned forward and gave him a hug. ‘I’m so sorry! It was a stupid idea!’

He hugged you back in an instant. You were basically in his lap, his face hidden in your neck. ‘Can we just stay like this for a while?’

You nodded and hugged him harder, ‘Can I turn off the kitchen light first?’

‘I’ll pay your electricity bill.’

‘I was kidding,’ you smiled.

‘Someone has to tell you, you’re not funny,’ you could feel him smirk.

‘So mean and hurtful, for what reason?!’ You jokingly sniffled.

‘Feel my pain,’ he laughed.

‘If it makes you feel better, fine,’ you hugged him a little tighter. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘S’okay. I’m just glad it was a prank.’

‘I love you most.’

‘I love you even more’

A/N: I’m thinking of a part two for this. I dont know. Cus I mentioned a tour so maybe it’s worth playing that out a bit. Lemme know what you think.

Please like and reblog and submit your prompts/requests :)

I’m writing anything that comes to mind right now so suggestions would be great.

[I’ve tried to look over it but if there’s anything that isn’t gender neutral about the reader, lemme know and I’ll fix it]

The following parts will probably not come and this was made as a stand alone story. If you’re still wanting to continue reading after this, go for it :) I just wanted to warn you cus if I were you, Id want someone to warn me.

Part 2

#lee know #lee know x reader #lee minho #stray kids #stray kids hurt/comfort #stray kids fluff #skz x reader #skz imagines #stray kids scenarios #skz lee know #hurt/comfort #minho x reader #x reader #skz fanfic #stray kids angst #angst #skz angst #gender neutral reader

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toomuchracket · 1 year

Text

bday girl (birthday partyverse!matty)

day 2 of The Birthday Party Project, first birthday as a couple - yours! this is my og friends-to-lovers couple, who've already had a very successful time of it at a birthday party, trying to manage your big day a mere few months after getting together. very fluffy, and very suggestive (because this pair especially cannot keep their hands off each other). enjoy! p.s. the pic of matty isn't thematic to the story, other than being an indicator of the era it's set in, i just think it's very pretty lol <3

you're abruptly awoken by the tinny synthesised beeps emanating from your phone, informing you that someone wants to facetime you - something that should be illegal at this time in the morning (7am), you think. after flicking on the bedside lamp, you fumble to put your glasses on and pick up your phone, your irritation lessening rapidly when you see it's matty calling you. you tap the screen, and your boyfriend's handsome face fills it. he beams when he sees you, although you're sure you look ridiculous, all sleep-addled and askew. "happy birthday, darlin'! how'd you sleep?"

"terribly. s'not the same when you're not next to me. i miss you," you pout. "that, and i forgot how uncomfy this bed was. no wonder my back's fucked after sleeping on this for the entirety of my teenage years."

matty laughs as he wanders through what you recognise as his kitchen. "maybe you're just getting old. nah, i'm joking, babe, it's probably the bed."

"being mean to me on my birthday? you're evil, sweetheart," you say, rolling onto your front. "especially considering you couldn't make it up here with me today. but it's your loss, considering you didn't get to wake up to this, in a single bed."

at that, you balance the phone against the pillows and sit back on your knees, allowing your boyfriend an excellent view of your outfit - his mazzy star t-shirt, tight across your tits, and a pair of dark red panties. matty laughs then groans lightly, raking a hand through his curls. "fuck me, you're gorgeous. my fomo about not being with you just got a whole lot worse," he grins cheekily. "can i request you put on that exact outfit for me as soon as you get home?"

"yeah. but what about the eroticism of being pressed up against me wearing it in a single bed?"

"hmm, i suppose the couch will have to do. although i can't really spread you out there as i intend to, can i?"

"matthew."

your boyfriend giggles, although you both know he's being serious. his face softens, a wistfulness setting into those beautiful big brown eyes of his. "i really am sorry i couldn't come up to see your family with you, darlin'. s'shite that we're swamped with album promo right now. hate not being with my girl."

matty's words warm your aching heart (and "my girl" sends a burst of heat straight between your legs. muscle memory, you think - your boyfriend likes to say it when he's between them). "s'alright. what time d'you think you'll be done with work tonight? we could do phone sex!"

"i dunno, darlin', but i like the sound of that a lot. i'll text you," matty smiles. "and i expect texts from you today as well - wanna hear what you're up to celebrating, and you better send me outfit pics too. fuck knows i'll need to look at you being beautiful to get me through today."

you've known the man for the better part of a decade and been in a committed relationship with him for two full months; and yet, the constant casual compliments matty loves to shower you with never fail to both astound and arouse you. moving forward to lean on your stomach, you kick your legs back and forth behind you, giddy. "i can do that, yeah."

"god, you're so cute," matty sighs. his eyes flick upwards slightly, presumably to check the time on his screen, and fill with slight... dread, you'd describe it. "fuck. i'm so sorry, sweetheart, but i need to head to work now."

your turn to sigh. "don't worry, baby, we'll talk later. have a good day, yeah? i love you."

"love you too, angel. i'll speak to you soon. bye!"

you say a goodbye in response, and the call ends. for a few minutes, you do nothing but stare at the ceiling of your teenage bedroom and think about how much you wish matty was with you, then you roll yourself out of bed and get ready to spend a "nice day with your family", as your mum put it.

and it is a nice day, despite the longing for your boyfriend veiling it all. you open your presents over a fry up breakfast, dancing around the kitchen in excitement at the vintage barbie t-shirt your brother bought you. when you and your mum go into town, you spend ages in the bookshop you practically lived in as a uni student, glowing with pride when the staff ask you to sign a few copies of your books, and spend even longer in the shopping centre that opened after you left for london, trying and buying shoes and dresses and makeup products you probably don't even have room for in your flat. you head to meet the rest of your family for dinner in your favourite restaurant, your mum ordering a bottle of red wine for she and you to get stuck into while you wait for the others to show up. it makes you think of matty, and the longing for him worsens. you excuse yourself from the table after greeting your just-arrived cousin, sneaking out the front door of the restaurant.

when you're outside in the still-warm early evening air, you pull your phone from your handbag and check your texts. nothing from matty since four hours ago, when he responded to your summer-dress shopping mirror selfie with a compliment so risqué that it made your cheeks go intensely crimson and had your mum asking if you were ill. lovesick, maybe, unable to cope without seeing your boyfriend for two days maximum. you're briefly reminded of those couples at school who used to make out in the corridors before having one single class apart; the thought you might be anything like them makes you shudder, and swap your phone for the pack of cigarettes and lighter also in your handbag.

you've no sooner placed the unlit cig in your mouth when you hear a familiar voice from further down the street. "don't you fucking dare light that, sweetheart."

your heart skips, and your legs go to copy them when you turn to see matty, looking tired but heartbreakingly handsome as ever, walking towards you with your brother in tow. cig in one hand and lighter in the other, you run to your boyfriend, throwing your arms around his neck and legs around his waist as he picks you up in a tight embrace and spins you round. "what the fuck?! i thought you were at work," you say, hugging matty tightly as he puts you gently on the ground. you lean over his shoulder, pulling one arm free to point accusingly at your brother. "and you! did you know this was happening? you might've told me, you little shit."

the two of them laugh at you, matty kissing your forehead before he answers. "i was meant to be working, yeah, but we wrapped promo yesterday morning. texted your bro here to organise coming up to surprise you, and drove up today - as soon as we hung up this morning, i was in the car."

"you drove?! babe, that's like a seven-hour journey!" you gasp, pulling matty into you again. "you must be exhausted. christ."

"worth it," comes the reply, muffled by your hair. "there was no way i was missing your first birthday as my girlfriend, not a chance."

you place a delicate, chaste kiss to the underside of matty's jaw. "you're so fucking cute."

your brother makes a retching sound. "i'm gonna go inside before you pair traumatise me. don't spend too long kissing out here, please, you'll hold the food up."

you roll your eyes, but matty chuckles and extends a hand to your brother. "thanks for all your help, mate."

"no problem," your brother replies, as they fist bump. "it's for my own benefit, really - the last thing i want to hear is this one whining about you all day."

he smiles as matty laughs, and then leaves the two of you alone. matty waits until the front door of the restaurant closes before he turns to you. "i, on the other hand, definitely want to hear you whining about me all day. well, more 'whining because of me', but you get the gist."

"oh my god, stop it."

"sorry, baby," matty grins, kissing you languidly. "can you blame me, though, after that outfit from this morning and the dress you tried on? it's taking everything in me not to drag you into that single bed right now."

you twirl your fingers into the curls at the nape of his neck just the way you know matty likes it, looking at him up through your eyelashes. "i think you should do that."

matty's breath hitches, before he takes a deep one and composes himself. "can't - there's a whole family of yours in there that i need to play 'wholesome, charming boyfriend' to, first. but after that, darlin', i'll take you home and be as dirty as you want me to be, alright?"

"i... i love you."

"i love you too, sweetheart. happy birthday."

#mads does writing #matty healy fic #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy x reader #matty healy fluff #matty healy #into the birthday partyverse #matty x reader

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neet-elite · 11 hours

Text

↳ EVENT 04. Whitney & Sebastian (Jealousy Sex)

Pairing: Sebastian / F!Reader / M!Whitney Genre: Smut 18+ WC: 2,380 Warnings: crossover, meta, name calling, degradation, threesome, double penetration, creampie Prompt(s): 06 — jealousy sex Wanna take part in the event?: CLICK HERE!!

A/N: my first crossover post ever? tbh, a few of you have asked for crossovers! so im looking forward to trying to execute them well enough LOL... i've never done this before, so please be gentle... but thank you for the interesting challenge!! i enjoyed exploring this topic a lot MWAH!!

Laying in bed with you plus a stranger on your other side was never something he'd ever dreamed of, let alone allow to happen. But, tonight is a special case if there ever was one, a necessity, really. Possessively pinching at your cheek to bring your attention back to solely him for a second, a vain attempt to assert dominance over your free time. His nose wrinkles in judgement at the man behind you, dissatisfied with the turn of events of tonight as you writhe between two men, a burning in his heart urging him to speak before the other steals the spotlight; and perhaps even you, given how there's a whole other side to you he's yet to be privy to.

Which only really makes his words harsher, tongue spitting venom aimed mostly for the other man at your backside, sickeningly insidious in his intent given the faux sweet tone he adopts.

And yet needs must.

"Tell me, babe—" He cuts himself off with a moan, the feeling of your cunt walls wrapping around him even tighter as soon as he speaks leaves him a little breathless. Dirty words caught in his throat when your gaze meets his for just a second; enough for him to recognise how fucked silly you already are between two men, before your eyes roll prettily to the back of your head. Bit off more than you can chew, pretty? "Have you— fuck— have you made a decision yet?" He doesn't mean to sound so impatience, biting down on his tongue else he'll spill even more filth your way.

It's just that he's never felt you this tight before, though that might be due to the fact that you've got two cocks inside of you right now. The feeling of Whitney's rubbing against his own every time they pass each other in tandem strokes feels so fucking good; maybe only made better from the ego fuelled jealousy resting thick in his stomach for you. He's not stupid, and he knows you probably don't have the mental capacity to respond to him right now, but instinct begs him to at least try and steal you away. The weight of two fat cocks inside of your tiny little cunt must be difficult to deal with, right baby? Copious amounts of precum drooling from your abused little hole, squished cruelly between two hard bodies and used in such a selfish competition of pride.

"Isn't it fuckin' obvious." Whitney grunts behind you, prompting Sebastian to roll his eyes in annoyance. Or was it in pleasure of your cunt sucking his cock off so well at the sound of another mans voice? He'll never truly know, tongue poking out to wet his lips before they hang open in a soft gasp when you're rocked forward and more into his arms with how hard Whitney snaps his hips into you. The lack of care for your pretty self coming from the man behind you irks him, especially when you do very little to fight back against the rude touch tugging at your ass, pulling at your waist to hump the cock behind you. In fact, it looks like you like it, grabbing and scratching at Sebastian's front for some semblance of reality. Silly girl, you'll find no such thing here.

And in any case, what right does this guy have over you, really? Who is he to tell him what you, his long term girlfriend, prefers. At the very least, he understands that you'll be gone from his existence for various lengths of time, unable to see him due to 'real life', or whatever. But he'd never imagined you'd be visiting other men when he was waiting so patiently for you to return back to the valley. Isn't he enough for you? Didn't you say that Stardew Valley was your favourite place to be?

Upset not at the clear cut infidelity, but more so at the fact that you thought you could escape him simply by jumping from game to game. No, no; it's expected that you'd find others. Different men to cuddle up to, stranger guys who no doubt make you feel differently to how he does— but there's gotta be a similar thread running throughout your choices, right? Something consistent between himself and the brute behind you stuffing you so full of cock that even he himself feels like he's choking with every thrust. Holding on tight to your arm as you lay on your side before him, his other arm hooked under your neck to keep you safe and secure as you're mad to rock between two tips.

Him, comparable to Whitney? Now that's insulting.

Why you'd ever choose to date someone as characterised by their bullying as Whitney is is beyond him. The pretty pout you wear when Whitney grabs at your throat only stokes the fire in his tummy too, a thick layer of bile resting on top at the way he gets glared at by the other man with possession written all over his expression. And Sebastian only knows it as such because he worn the same look with you time and time again, determined to prove his worth to you now more than ever to hopefully keep you around for longer than whoever else you might be seeing. To bring you back to your favourite game again.

Deciding to ignore the honestly annoying man challenging his position by your side, Sebastian instead tries to appeal to your morals. Deceptively digging into your yearning for comfort that he knows you need more than anything else. It's why you're with him in the first place, right?

"I missed you so much." He nuzzles into you; or as much as he can given how violently you're bouncing between them, how fast he has to pick up his pace to match Whitney's unfair rhythm. It's making him a little dizzy, to be honest. Desire pooling in his tummy for you and the broken sobs his cock fucks out of you. The pathetic whines, almost babbles of something resembling begs that Whitney thrusts out of you. Pretty little overwhelmed baby, isn't this what you wanted when you had suggested a little test? Given his earlier argument with Whitney over who you preferred, wasn't it you who suggested some friendly competition? And now look at you, all sobs and shivers, a coo automatically rolling off his tongue when he nestles closer to you, his lips ghosting over your own in a yearning to claim you as his. "I'm here, 'm not going anywhere, baby." He promises you, disarmingly imploring you to reach out for him, his hands firm on your soft body for stability while he fucks his whole length in and out of your overstuffed cunt. Bet it's so sore, isn't it? Need a little help distracting yourself from every balls deep thrust he offers you, don't you? The sound of wet skin on skin causing his cock to tremble against Whitney's fat length inside of you, your lewd moans filling his ears with every hump of his tip against your most sensitive parts inside.

Inching closer, he plants his lips on yours. A sloppy mix of saliva, promising you that he'll come out victorious by the time he's done with you, imagining the sight of you limping into his arms instead of Whitney's so he can whisk you away back to the valley where you belong— except in doing so, he inevitable ends up stuttering his hips inside of you to the thought of punishing you for even insinuating that he might be a second place choice in your life. But is it even punishment if you'd be enjoying yourself, much like how you are now? Gasping into his open mouth, spilling moan after moan thanks to Whitney's pounding from behind. Fuck, he can even feel the way your body positively vibrates from enjoyment against him, rendered useless and unable to effectively kiss him back, tongue lolling out of your wanting mouth for him to suck on a lil. Just a little, because if he were to do anything more than that, then he's more than likely about to cream your cunt full, thinking it's just so fucking cute that you've been fucked truly stupid on two cocks.

"Pair of sluts—" Whitney laughs from behind, but Sebastian doesn't miss the undeniable crack in his counterparts voice. The hint of shakiness present only because you're so fucking tight and feel so fucking good that there's no room to do anything other than melt into you. Like some sort of horny amalgamation, sweat and sticky and heat, drool and other bodily fluids shared all in the name of rivalry. To try and win your utmost attention and affections, and to successfully pull you back into your preferred setting, favoured game, and most important love interest.

He knows what's at stake, and as such, removes himself from your lips to instead suckle on your neck— where Whitney might prefer bite marks and bruises, he's intent on leaving behind gentle love bites as his mark on you. His fingers slipping from your body from sweat, humping his trembling cock into you in short snap thrusts; just how he knows you like. And God he has no choice but to muffle a moan against your skin when Whitney favours longer strokes inside. Fast but deep, the feeling of rubbing his needy cock just as much against your plush insides as he is against Whitney's girth feels too good, immediately prompting him to dip his hand down intending on rubbing at your clit in sheer desperation not to be the first to cum, only to find Whitney already doing so— fuck he feels too good to argue back. Simply falling further into your soft body, cradling you from harms way despite how your body warms at the degradation, his chest tight at the way you mumble and moan. It's all a bit too much for him, sucking your neck for dear life, a silent plea to be crowned victorious with eager fucks into your overstuffed hole.

Maybe you prefer to be demeaned, right? Bullied into submission, his nails digging into any part of your pretty exposed body he can reach, fumbling around in a tangled heap of limbs as Whitney attempts to grab your attention too— though the latter seems to hold his composure better when it comes to your angel cunt. "Such a good slut, aren't you? C'mon, tell me how y'really feel."

But the slur in Whitney's words is enough to let Sebastian know that he isn't the only one close, not so much fucking you now as he is just trying to hold back for you. Muscles taut and jaw tight, gritting into the sticky feeling of your cunt, slick coating his length just as much as precum does, how the mixture drips down to his balls to stain the sheets below. To cum first would be sooo embarrassing, wouldn't it? Especially when he's doing his utmost to prove himself to you, to try and coax you back to the valley, and not whatever universe Whitney is from. It's where you belong, at the end of his leaking tip every night for him to bully into you over and over again, even if right now he can do no such thing— unlatching from your neck just to spill sweet praises for you, and to hopefully disallow you from answering Whitney's burning question. Deep down he knows you're gonna say his name anyway, or at least hopes is the case, the way your glassy eyes haze over his almost pained features, drool dripping from your tongue every time he presses his cock inside. You wear the fucked out expression so well, pretty baby getting fucked by two big cocks, is it more than you can handle?

It's okay, because from the way your body shakes under his fingertips, the tell tale tremble inside your pretty little angel cunt, how your voice almost goes missing in your silent gasps for more— he knows that you're close too. And, frustratingly, Whitney can gather about just as much also— how long have you been seeing him? "Already?" Whitney sneers, unsure of who it's more aimed at, but Sebastian hasn't the strength to fight back. Not for himself, and certainly not for you. Too lost in the way your cunt practically begs him for more, his hips instinctively fucking into you as if it were his only purpose in life. Messy and clumsy humps fill you up, almost as if he were getting fucked by Whitney alongside you, but fuck he can't help it. The weight of your body pressed tight against his own as Whitney takes a more dominating stance, effectively fastening Sebastian under you as you get mounted from behind is intoxicating, your puffy clit surely rubbing nicely against his groin from the new position and—

Well, he's got no hope of holding back when he feels your full little hole spasm around him. Orgasm washing over you as you fall into his chest, moaning directly down his ear as you wrap your arms around his neck and hold on for dear life. Sebastian too holds onto you, arms wrapped around the small of your back, pressing you down onto his cock for him to offer you merger little fucks up and into your heat. And fuck it feels so good, fat load shooting against your deepest parts, turning his cock all sticky as it gushes around inside, against Whitney's cock, and gets pushed out of your cute cunt with every extra thrust. He barely gets a chance to calm down providing Whitney's uncharacteristically kind slower pace, letting you ride out your high just enough before the brutality begins again.

"Well, what d'ya think, slut? Got a favourite yet?" Whitney seethes, clearly holding on to the last remainder of stability he's got as you wail out in hyper sensitivity.

Maybe if Sebastian holds you close to him and whispers sweet nothings down your ear to help settle you back into the unfair fucking you'll favour him. It's the least he could do, seeing as he finished first anyway. Anything to get you back to the valley, and spending time in his world again.

#500 event!#dol #stardew valley smut #sdv smut #dol smut #dol fanfic #sdv sebastian smut #sdv sebastian fanfic #whitney the bully smut #whitney the bully #i forgot other tags oopsie

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jfleamont · 6 months

Note

The beatles fic

I always thought that "i want to hold your hand" is so jily (James😌) coded!

Hii and thank you ❤️ yes, you read my mind! The pining in the song is definitely James coded lol I also thought this could be a sequel to this!

Her legs are intertwined with his; she's curled around him, and the palm of her hand is resting on his chest.

Their breaths have slowed down and the silence of the room is comforting, in a way. James brings his hand to his chest, covering hers. His eyes are closed, but he's not sleeping: she can tell by the slight crease between his brows that he's thinking. He wants to say something.

“Hey.”

He opens one eye, and smiles at her. He's so beautiful. “Hi.”

“You're awfully quiet. It's odd.”

He laughs, and she blushes. “I know, it's weirding me out, too. I guess I'm just enjoying this moment,” he replies, carding his fingers through her hair with his free hand.

“Committing this moment to memory, are you?” she jokes, but knows in her heart that it's the truth.

She loves him. She knows he feels the same.

He hasn't said it in words, but she recognises the longing look in his eyes; she often catches him watching her from afar with a serious, almost solemn expression on his face, as if he's surrendered to the intensity of his feelings for her and doesn’t know what to do with them, where to put them.

She knows it because she feels it too, and she can't imagine a future without him, and she's terrified.

“Yeah,” he smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes.

“I don't want to leave, you know that,” she tells him. She needs him to believe her.

“I know, I know, it's just— you don't have to go alone,” he looks nervous now, “I could go with you.”

Lily has thought about this a lot, bringing him home for the holidays, but her sister would hate having another freak at her first Christmas party as a married woman.

Besides, they aren't even together. Not really. They've kept it secret for over a month, and spending the holidays together isn't exactly laying low. She was afraid that people were going to judge her for not taking her role as Head Girl seriously, but it all seems a bit stupid now.

“Or I could stay, tell my family that there's a snowstorm and that the train can't leave.”

James snorts. “I'm not that good at charms, Lily, so if you were counting on me to do that I'm afraid you'll be disappointed. And I don't think they'd believe you, there are spells for those emergencies,” he remarks, but then his eyes widen, shocked. “Wait... They're aware magic is real, right?”

He's kidding, of course, and Lily shouldn't laugh at such a lame joke, but she does. “I'm trying to come up with a solution here and you're mocking me? Maybe I do want to leave.”

“Oh, shut up, you,” and before she can stop him - not that she wants to - his lips are on hers.

The kiss is heady; he removes the hand that was previously on top of hers on his chest and she misses its warmth at first, but then he cradles her cheek, and she forgets all about it.

Her own hand reaches his hair, which she tugs gently: he seems to enjoy it if the groan that spills from his lips is anything to go by. She doesn't know how long the kiss lasts, and when he draws away, she knows she'll see the lust, his pupils blown, almost entirely black.

What she doesn't expect, is the profound tenderness of his gaze; his eyes look watery, and she already knows what he's going to say.

“I want to hold your hand, Lily. I wanna snog you in public, I want to hold you close in front of our friends and have them make fun of us. I wanna be so disgustingly in love with you that people think I'm pathetic,” he's caressing her face and sighs when she mirrors him, her hand tracing the line of his jaw.

“I can't promise you that it'll be easy, that people won't talk. But it won't be worse than this, worse than staying away from each other.”

She can't contain her smile as she surges forward to kiss him.

“Yes, James,” she says as she pecks him all over his face. He's laughing too, now.

“Yes?” he sounds - and looks - relieved.

“I was going to tell you this, you just beat me to it. I don't care what they think, these are my last few months at Hogwarts and I'm tired of making things unnecessarily hard for myself.”

James chuckles, and lets Lily straddle him, his hands falling to her waist. “You tend to do that, yeah.”

#jily #jple #jfleamont rambles #beatles prompt game #harry potter #james potter #lily evans #marauders #asks #beatles drabbles

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unclefathersantateddy · 3 months

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what are your thoughts on teddy's relationship with his family and how they were abusive? what about his younger sister?? and his relationship with his ex wife where he was also abused by her 🤔 how do you think these affected his personality and relationships. sorry this is an English essay ass prompt but im genuinely curious lmao i love analyzing family history (obvs)

Light coming in with the big gun from the get-go!!! Hahaha thank you for a great question!!!

So from what we know about Teddy's mom, she's a bit of a Wild Card™. Likes to do what she wants, when she wants, isn't exactly your traditional grandma.

But given the majority of people become docile with age (rather than more adventurous), it stands to reason /why/ she waited until retirement to do all the things she enjoyed? Could that be why her and Teddy's dad always used to argue?

Teddy's age places his parents as either dating or hooking up around the 70s/80s. Assuming they've never left the US, this wasn't exactly a pinnacle time for women's rights.

So we have an oppressive timestamp, a turbulent relationship, and then an extinction burst (Teddy's mom doing ALL her interests in retirement) post-breakup.

These factors together connote that teddy's father may have been restrictive/disapproving of teddy's mother's interests, hobbies, passions - or may be indicative of teddy's father's disdain/nonchalance towards his wife in general. (I'm assuming they were married because 'merica). Which would be an apt representation of Boomer relationships, the whole "can't live with them, can't live without them" (totally healthy /s).

But on the flipside to a potentially controlling father, his mom IS a wild card lol. If she's still up to mad shit in retirement, WHAT was she into in her prime?? Was she Fully Unhinged™? Given her, "muchness" (for lack of better words), it stands to reason it may transfer as "feisty" or "fiery" during arguments with teddy's dad, so whilst his dad may have been authoritarian, his mom may have been inflammatory and antagonistic.

As for his sister GIVE HER SOME GD SCREEN TIME!!!!!!! WHO ARE DANA AND DAN!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I wanna see if she's exactly like Teddy or if she's his antithesis, are they both so interested in learning about the lives of every stranger they meet? That's beautiful bro. I hope so. I both want her to be an almost identical twin to teddy, and to look exactly like her bf Dan (like the Van Houtens in the Simpsons). I think I want Dana to have the spunkiness that teddy lacks. I love the "anxious older sibling, feral younger sibling" dynamics, like what Tina and Louise have. I want an episode where Teddy's in therapy talking to Dr Marjorie about his childhood whilst Dana's out back wrestling a bar fly for his teeth or smn. Same trauma but dealt with in VERY different ways. I need it!!!!!!!!! I deserve this!!!!!!!!! LOL.

Moving onto Denise, FUCK Denise. Fuck any single individual that makes you feel like you have to change your core sense of self in order to feel accepted and/or loved. You KNOW she's that slimy level of manipulative that easily gets her own way in every situation. The type that rarely gets called up but if you call them up everyone else around will take their side. The GOOD manipulators. Real piece of shit types. The type to push you so far into a corner you come out crazy. So crazy noone believes you and they all side with the charismatic one. (These people boil my soul into an angry black jus, I become one of the 4 biles). IIRC we don't even get a full line from her, I'm pretty sure she only says "teddy?" (But please correct me if that's false), but that's still enough to solidify her as a shithouse in my mind. Questioning his name like don't pretend you don't know or recognise him you shitcunt, he gave you so much of his life. Eat a dick.

As negative as all these experiences are, I do think they shaped teddy for the better! I mean, he is a lil anxious and awkward and doesn't have the best self-esteem/confidence. BUT, he's incredibly emotionally intelligent for an old white guy. He's SO full of love, for EVERYONE. Every single person he comes across or meets (as exampled by S12E4 Driving Big Dummy), he fundamentally enjoys experiencing. They're not just people to chat to, they are experiences to be had. They are characters you've never heard of to stories you've never read. His approach to people is polar opposite to how most of us perceive other people, most of us are like Bob, he doesn't /hate/ people, but he doesn't /like/ them either. Teddy DOES like other people, he REALLY likes other people, he put the work into his trauma so it didn't taint the rest of him. I'm not gonna speak on behalf of everyone with PTSD but I know for a lot of us we fester on our trauma and victimise ourselves, often resulting in self- alienation and isolation, teddy shows no sign of that. S8E5 Thanks-Hoarding picks up on teddy being a handyman so he can "fix" his parents relationship (simplifying), but it doesn't address the fact he is CONSTANTLY putting himself out there. Handymen are a word-of-mouth trade, to be a successful handyman you HAVE to put yourself out there. To meet new people is to be vulnerable, and to be vulnerable with PTSD is like a rabbit exposing its belly to an owl yknow? Throughout the entire show we see teddy consistently putting the work in. Into every part of his life, he's making the effort to improve his life. I know healthcare in the US is a privilege that only the capitalists can afford, but it is so refreshing to see an American go to therapy instead of just complaining about how much they need therapy lol (no judgment, again I appreciate it's a nigh impossible situation to escape).

Thank you for the incredibly stimulating question, light!! (Sorry if I didn't answer all the questions fully! Will edit or update later!🤍)

#bobs burgers #bob's burgers #teddy the handyman #uncle father santa teddy #bobs burgers headcanons #burger headcanons #burger analysis

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your-divine-ribs · 1 month

Text

Good Touch

Words: 4.6k

A very stressed out Van comes into your salon for a massage so you help him to relax in the best possible way… I wrote this just after the Cardiff 2022 gig got cancelled 😭 // Just pure self-indulgent smut because I fancy this man so bad I have no other excuse lol sorry 😂

Imagines Masterlist Main Masterlist

"I'm so glad we're nearly done for the day, I can't wait to get home. Thank god I've not got any more clients."

Your colleague and salon receptionist Naomi looks up as you push through the door after heading back from a much needed coffee break. A small frown creases her forehead.

"Actually Y/N, you do have another client. He was a late booker from this morning. Haven't you seen it in the diary?"

"No..." Your heart sinks as she slides the appointment book towards you across the counter, squinting at Naomi's practically indecipherable scrawl. "Mr... what? Mr McCarr? McCaw? Don't recognise the name. He's not a regular then..."

Great, you sigh to yourself. A brand new client last thing on a Friday. These days your diary is full of satisfied repeat bookers and you've got to know all of them well during your time at the salon. It's almost like you can forget you're working at times, you just switch on the relaxing music and chat to them whilst you massage away their tension knots and usually their worries too. It's often soothing even for you, but this week has been long and exhausting and the thought of making polite conversation with a total stranger for a whole session when you're ready to go home is totally draining.

Well... let's just hope he's one of the quiet ones who just wants to lie there and zone out.

"It's actually McCann... excuse my terrible writing!" Naomi laughs. "But yeah he's new. He came in grumbling about his manager ordering him to come for a session. He's had some shit go down at work or something... I don't know. He was pretty vague, mumbling like he really didn't wanna be here."

You look quickly towards the treatment room door which is thankfully shut. "He's already here?"

"Uh-huh," Naomi nods, scrunching up her face. "He looks like shit... really stressed out... like maybe he's not slept for a month." She grins mischievously. "Shame really as I reckon he'd be proper fit normally!"

"Naomi!" You exclaim in a hushed whisper, stepping over in alarm. "For Christ's sake keep your voice down!"

Naomi just shrugs, unfazed, tapping her manicured fingernails on the counter. "He won't hear, the door's shut. Chill out! Anyway, enjoy... he's booked in for a full body massage!"

Her eyebrows shoot up suggestively at the final few words, but you don't partake in her smutty behaviour. You've always prided yourself on your professionalism. You'll just go in and do your job... work your magic... in forty-five minutes you'll have another satisfied customer.

You take a deep breath and open the door...

You should have realised. You should have put two and two together, but why would you? Okay... McCann isn't exactly a common name, but the thought of having a real-life, living, breathing, famous rockstar casually dropping into your salon is the last thing you'd expect on a Friday afternoon.

But sure enough there he is, larger than life and a hundred times more handsome than his videos on YouTube, perched on the edge of the treatment bed wearing nothing but a pair of tight-fitting black boxers. Very tight-fitting actually, you note, quickly wrenching your eyes upwards to meet his sparkling blue gaze and his awkward looking slightly crooked smile.

"Alright love?" He greets you in that familiar tone that you've grown to love by watching every interview of his that you've scoured the internet for.

You're flustered even though you tell yourself that you shouldn't be. In your line of work you deal with clients in various states of undress all day, every day. It's just that they're not normally Van McCann, singer of your favourite band. The very same band who've just brutally broken your heart and put a serious dint in your finances by pulling out of a stadium gig you'd been set to attend only weeks away. You'd been devastated and frustrated, not to mention fuming about the band's lack of communication with their loyal and dedicated fanbase, but all of a sudden those feelings of resentment take a backseat to your utter shock at having this most elusive of your idols sitting there before you, eyes glowing with a subtle kind of amusement at your stunned expression.

"Oh... errr sorry... wasn't I supposed to get my kit off yet?"

"Yes... yes... of course!" You blurt, checking yourself when you realise you sound overly eager, making out you're clearing your throat so you can take a moment to compose yourself, forcing your inner fangirl back into hiding. "I mean, sure. I can't massage you fully dressed now, can I?"

Van nods but his smile slips as you step forward to retrieve a towel off the bale on the wall, and now you're a little closer you can see what Naomi was talking about. The skin under his eyes looks dark-tinged and puffy, his skin sallow under the lighting. He sighs under his breath as he gets to his feet. "Might as well get this over and done with then."

His comment makes you bristle slightly but you recall Naomi's earlier comment and you take the chance to explore his lack of enthusiasm. "Oh, my colleague mentioned something about your manager making you come? You don't sound too thrilled about it. Most people love coming for a treatment. It's therapeutic you know."

"Yeah well... I don't need therapy," he says quickly, his voice tight and defensive. You've obviously hit a nerve. You hadn't realised that you'd stepped back, recoiling, but Van notices. He looks immediately embarrassed, offering an apologetic smile, pushing a hand through his hair as he talks.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to snap... it's just... errr... it's just I've really been going through it at the moment. Things have been... difficult... really difficult." His eyes dart around the room before they meet yours again. "You could say pretty much everything I touch is falling apart these days."

You're full of intrigue, literally bursting with curiosity to find out the reason behind the band's demise, but he's made no reference to show that he knows that you're aware of who he is. In fact you think he probably suspects you don't and he's relieved about that. Despite your desperation to find out the band's fate you really can't probe him. You don't want to scare him off, but you also don't want to treat an unwilling client. It just doesn't feel right.

"Look... I'm really sorry to hear that, but I probably shouldn't treat you if you don't want to be here..."

Van cuts you off, looking contrite. "It's not that I don't want to be here, really. Please don't take offence. It's just that I don't know how a bloody massage is supposed to miraculously cure all of my problems, that's all."

He chuckles and rolls his eyes, and you smile back, holding out the towel to him which he accepts.

"I'm sure it won't... but it will relax you, I can promise you that. You can just lie back and close your eyes and check out of real life for a little while. C'mon, why don't you just try it? You might like it. Let me take care of you for a bit."

Oh... you hadn't meant it to come out quite like that, so intimate-sounding. You feel your cheeks begin to warm as his grin widens.

"Well, if ya put it like that how can I resist? I'm sure I'll be in very capable hands! Now... how do you want me... on the bed?"

His last line's said innocently enough but there's an underlying cheekiness simmering just below that gorgeous smile that makes your belly flip. You bite back the smirk that's threatening to surface along with a very inappropriate smutty comment, trying to restore the composed and professional demeanour that you usually display with your clients.

"Yeah, just lie down right here." You look down quickly to hide your flushed cheeks, patting the soft sheet draped over the bed. "If you start off lying on your front then I can do your back, and then you can turn over." You pause, mentally bracing yourself before you say the next line, but ending up blurting it out in a tumble of rushed words. "You can... umm... take everything off if you like... you don't have to but some clients prefer it that way. It's completely up to you though. You can use the towel to cover yourself if you do."

Fuck... your cheeks are on fire now, your pulse starting to race. The room suddenly feels like a furnace as you watch Van quickly hook his fingers under the elastic waistband of his boxers without hesitation, starting to inch them down his slim hips.

"Oh... I'll step out and give you some privacy!" You exclaim, hurriedly whirling around to avert your eyes at the realisation that he means to completely strip off right there and then in front of you.

"Not a problem," comes his relaxed voice from behind you. "I'm not shy."

A giggle of pure embarrassment bubbles up inside and you bite down on your lip to stem it, trying to control your pounding heart. You need to pull yourself together and fast. In a moment you've got to turn around and deliver a relaxing and professional massage but all you can think of is getting your hands on his naked body for all the improper reasons.

"Just let me know when you're ready!" You say brightly, stepping forward to peruse the massage oils, deciding on a blend of patchouli and sandalwood. You tap the small speaker on the shelf and a wave of soft, soothing meditative music fills the small room. Scented candles are already lit to give the room a calming ambience.

"Ready... I'm all yours!" You hear him call back.

Yes... yes you are, you smile to yourself as you move over to dim the lights before finally turning around.

He's laid out on the bed on his front as instructed and for the first time you can get a good look at him uninhibited. His wiry body is lean but taut, his skin pale save for the slight flush where he's obviously caught the sun on the tops of his arms and around his neck. The tiny towel that you gave him is draped temptingly over his pert little ass and you curse yourself for not giving him an even smaller one.

"How are you feeling? Are you comfortable enough?" You ask, tipping some of the oil into the palm of your hand and warming it between your fingers, coating them in the fragrant liquid.

"Uh-huh I'm good... yeah I'm all good," he replies, shifting slightly where he lays and bringing his arms up to fold across the end of the table. He lays his head sideways against his crossed arms. You have a clear view of his face from here and you can see that his eyes are shut. "I've never had a massage before... I don't really know what to expect."

"Just relax," you tell him. "That's all you need to do. Just leave the rest to me."

You step forward until you're inches away from the table, looking down on him. You can hardly believe that this man who's dwelled in your fantasies up until this moment is lying here in front of you, naked as the day he was born, completely at your mercy. Tingles of excitement are sparking through you and again you have to take a moment to compose yourself, surreptitiously shaking out the tension from your fingers which are trembling slightly.

You start by placing your palms on either side of his spine just below his neck, trailing your hands down to his lower back, then up again, this time moving in circles, firmly smoothing his flesh as you go. He lets out a small sigh and you feel him sink down further into the bed.

"That feels nice already," he murmurs. "Think maybe I am gonna enjoy this after all."

Not as much as I'm going to enjoy it, you muse to yourself, smiling as your fingers nudge the towel aside to smooth over the top of the contours of his ass, thumbs pressing into the small of his back.

"I'm only just getting started," you say. "I can feel a lot of tension in your muscles, so I'm going to have to be thorough."

His only reply is a soft "mmmm" which sounds far more sensual to your ears than it probably should. Your mind wanders, imagining him flipping over and pulling you down on top of him, hitching up your dress whilst you straddle him and grind shamelessly against him.

You try to clear your mind, moving upwards again and using your fingers to caress the muscles across the tops of his shoulders, working out the knots of tension as you go. His skin is soft and smooth, more so than you would have imagined, and the way your oil-soaked hands glide across his flesh is arousing you beyond belief. His body glistens in the candlelight. Maybe this was a bad idea. You can feel your professionalism ebbing away as you bring your hands down to focus on his slender waist, not making a move to replace the towel when it slips to the side, exposing his bum.

Van doesn't seem to notice or maybe he does but he just doesn't care. He has a blissed-out expression on his face, his eyes screwed shut and his lips slightly parted, a small crease adorning his brow as he lets out a sound that's halfway between a whimper and a sigh.

"You have no idea how good that feels... really. You're some kind of goddess, I'm sure of it."

His words fan the flames that are already simmering inside of you and you can feel the ache grow between your thighs as you shift your position to move down to his legs.

"Oh, I don't know about that," you reply, laughing softly. "My clients always seem to go away happy though."

"I don't doubt it.... mmmm... god that's so good... ohhh..."

There he goes again. Christ... those little moans that he's making are not helping matters. If he's this expressive just from a basic massage how would he react if you showed him your real talents? You push the thought away, reaching for more oil before you begin on his legs, wrapping your fingers around his calves as you massage your way up, spreading your hands wide as they slide up his thighs.

"F... uck," he groans, low and drawn out and you see him push his pelvis into the bed as your fingers trail dangerously close to the sensitive area between his parted thighs. Now you're certain that you're not the only one getting turned on, but it's hardly surprising, with each stroke you're pushing the boundaries of decency, edging closer and closer to forbidden territory. His arms move from their relaxed position so he can grip the edges of the bed and you smile to yourself as you feel his body stiffen.

There are strict rules of conduct for masseuses in your salon and you're breaking every single one. If your manager could see you now you'd be facing a disciplinary at the very least, or at worst you'd be fired. That doesn't stop you though, your fingers kneading teasingly at a spot that makes him visibly shiver until you feel the muscles in his thighs clench up tight under your touch.

"Are you still feeling okay?" You ask, finally moving your hands away, wiping the excess oil on the towel before you gently drape it back over his bum.

"Yeah... yeah I'm all good," he answers, but his choked up voice would suggest otherwise. Maybe you're going too far. Your salon prides itself on offering the most soothing treatments, leaving clients feeling calm and relaxed, not wound up tight like a spring, gripping the treatment bed like their lives depend on it.

"Are you sure? I know my massages can be pretty... intense."

He lets out a throaty chuckle. "Intense? That's one way to describe it! Think maybe I'm... errr... enjoying it a little too much."

You can't help the grin which stretches wide on your lips at his words which are like music to your ears, a green light to continue in your endeavours to make him feel good. You've never really considered your ability to make a person's body react to your whim a talent before, more like a gift. So what's wrong with bestowing a gift of your own on someone else every once in a while? He so obviously needs it.

"It's time to turn over now," you tell him, grasping the edge of the towel to lift it, allowing it to screen him as he moves.

"Al... already?" He stutters, uncertainty in his voice as he shifts. "I... errr... umm... okay then."

He rolls on to his side and you train your eyes on the far wall as he does to allow him his privacy, only looking back down to replace the towel when he's settled on to his back.

Oh...

All of a sudden the source of his hesitancy is abundantly clear as you see the the towel tenting slightly over his cock. You have to fight hard to suppress the self-satisfied smirk you can feel trying to surface, quickly looking away, your eyes meeting Van's in an awkward moment of understanding.

He smiles sheepishly, his cheeks tinged an adorable shade of rosy pink and you fleetingly consider acknowledging the situation you've both found yourselves in, but you decide against it, opting to just carry on instead.

You can feel his eyes on you as you turn to reach for more oil then you step to the head of the bed, looking down on him. He blinks up at you, stunning pale greeny-blue eyes framed with thick, long lashes. You're certain you're not imagining the wordless exchange that you can feel taking place, a tender kind of lustfulness that his imploring expression conveys. He wants this. You know he does.

You place your hands on either side of his neck, letting them trail down to his collar bones and then outwards across his chest before drawing them back and repeating the movements over and over. You can feel his heartbeat thundering under your fingertips at each pass, his chest rising and falling deeply.

"You okay?" You check in on him and he nods, eyes swirling with intensity.

"Uh-huh..." he breathes out, then he clears his throat. "You're pretty incredible at this, you know that?"

You smile, soaking in the praise, wondering if he thinks every client of yours gets this extra special attention that he's receiving, wondering if he cares?

"It's working then, is it?" You grin.

Van laughs and you can feel it vibrate through his chest under your palms. "Put it this way, I'm not exactly thinking about my problems right now!"

"Good... that's good... that's the aim."

You step back around to the side of the bed so you can reach further, moving your hands down over his abdomen, letting your fingers slip under the edge of the towel and trail down the V of his hips. He lets out a shaky exhale and you glance up to see his eyes fluttering shut, his mouth slightly agape. He looks divine lying there, his oiled skin shimmering in the flicker of the dim candlelight, the temptation to pull away the towel so strong that you find your fingers twitching with longing. That's just a step too far though. Teasing is one thing but giving one of your clients a sneaky hand-job is another entirely. Besides, just because he's turned on it doesn't mean he's giving you consent to relieve his tensions in such a sensual way. He'd definitely have to ask... or maybe even beg...

Fuck... you wonder what that would sound like falling from those full pink lips of his, the same lips that are currently being pulled in between his teeth to stifle a groan. You coax it from him anyway as your hands move down to grip his thighs, pushing them slightly apart as you knead at the sensitive flesh. The towel rises up even further in response and now you know you've really crossed the line. Van's gripping the edges of the bed tightly, his breathing coming heavy and ragged. His hips press upwards as if to chase your touch as your fingers wrap around the top of his thigh under the towel, the backs of them just barely grazing his balls as you move away.

"I think we'd better finish there for today," you say hurriedly, watching carefully for his reaction, pleased when his eyes flick open with a look of dismay. "That's if you've... umm... had enough?"

He pauses for a moment, his brow furrowed in a hopeful kind of eagerness. "You mean there's more... if I want it?"

"Yes," you say with no absolutely hesitance, boldly meeting his needy gaze, gauging his reaction whilst you try to formulate your next words in your head. "I mean I think we both know that there's more than one way to relax somebody... a more unconventional way to relieve that obvious tension if you like."

You try not to think of Naomi innocently sitting outside at the reception desk filing her nails whilst you're in here propositioning a client in the most sordid kind of way. Despite her earlier teasing you just know that she'd be horrified by your actions. You start to fret that maybe you've made a mistake, but then Van speaks, and your worries melt away in an instant.

"I want it... I really want it... please."

In a deft motion he tugs at the towel and it falls away on to the bed, exposing him completely. As expected he's gloriously hard, his cock just as delectable as the rest of him, thick and rigid with a flushed tip, just begging for your attention. You waste no time in wrapping your fingers hungrily around his girth, swiping your thumb over the sensitive head.

"Shit," he mutters. "I can't believe this is happening."

He hoists his body upwards, propping himself on his elbows, craning his neck to watch as you begin to caress him, taking your time, sliding your oil-slicked fingers slowly and deliberately up and down his length.

"Tell me if you want me to stop," you murmur, the shock and excitement of what you're doing hitting you as he lets out a throaty groan and you worry that Naomi might hear.

"No... don't stop," he gasps breathlessly. "Please don't ever stop. It's so good... mmm."

His eyes flick between yours and his cock, dark and heavy-lidded, strands of his hair fallen forward on to his face which is creased in pleasure. You don't think you've ever witnessed a sexier sight, the obvious enjoyment etched on his face, his hips pistoning upwards needily as he fucks himself into your hand.

You pick up your pace, gripping him firmly, flicking your wrist over the head at each stroke, loving the way he writhes under your touch. His jagged panted breaths mingling with his choked groans and the obscenely wet sounds of your slick hand moving over his length seem to bounce off the walls of the small room making everything seem more intense.

"Keep going," he groans pleadingly. "Please... just like that... ahh fuck."

You're torn between wanting to stretch this out and wanting to drive him to his peak, the sinful noises he's making travelling down to your own core, soaking your panties through. You move to cup his balls with your free hand, gently massaging them, satisfied when he grits his teeth and lets out a particularly primal sounding groan.

"I can't hold on... I'm gonna come... fuck, fuck... FU-CK..." he hisses, thrusting into your hand, his whole body spasming. You watch him, transfixed as his jaw falls slack and his eyes glaze over as the swells of his climax peak and he comes, hard, milky splatters of cum painting his belly and spilling out over your knuckles.

You tug him a few more times until you've milked every last drop out of his orgasm and he's shuddering under your touch, his head hanging forward, muttering incoherently under his breath.

You release your grip on him, reaching for the towel and perching on the side of the bed, waiting for his reaction as you clean off your fingers, your heart pounding in your chest.

"Holy fucking shit," he finally murmurs, raising his head, his blue eyes meeting yours, full of wonder and shock and an awe-like reverence that makes your breath catch in your throat. "I know I'm brand new to this whole massage thing but I'm guessing that's not how it usually goes down?"

He accepts the towel from your outstretched hand as you offer him an awkward smile, the enormity of what you've just done hitting you now. "I can promise you I've never done that before. I... I don't know what came over me... sorry."

"Sorry?" He echoes quickly, his eyes bulging in disbelief. "Please don't apologise! That was..." he pauses, shaking his head, searching for the right words. "That was probably one of the hottest experiences of my life! Really... I mean it!"

A deep scarlet flush washes over you. "I hardly think so..."

"Trust me, it was," he cuts in, his eyes bright, a kind of youthful sparkle in them that looks good on him. "My only regret is I didn't even ask you your name... you know... before..."

He stops, chucking warmly, dabbing at the sticky mess on his belly before he drapes the towel over his lap and swings his legs around so he's sitting next to you on the bed.

"It's Y/N," you say, quietly.

"Van," he offers, holding out a hand to you in a greeting gesture, laughing when you accept it. Then you're laughing too at the absurdity of the belated formalities now when you've already shared an intimate moment together.

"Note to self," he grins up at you as you break away and get to your feet. "Make sure you're on first-name terms with a girl before you accept her offer of a hand-job!"

"Oh my god!" You giggle, cheeks glowing, huge grin splitting your face in two as you raise up a hand to your face, embarrassment flooding you now.

"I... errr... suppose I'd... errr... better give you some privacy now... you know, to get dressed." You start to back away, glancing down as you start to turn, feeling awkward now the heat of the moment has dissipated and it's painfully obvious the two of you are nothing more than strangers thrown together under a happy coincidence.

"Hold up... wait... Y/N..."

Van's voice comes urgently, stopping you in your tracks. You spin around, coming to face him, looking at him expectantly, surprised to see an awkward hesitance about him. He's still naked save for the small towel he's holding which is barely covering his modesty and you battle with yourself to keep a straight face.

"On my way in I saw this little coffee shop just across the road. I don't suppose you'd like to go and grab a drink with me would ya... if ya not busy that is? I figured you probably got off work soon?"

His voice rises up hopefully and your stomach flips with excitement but you try not to let it show, keeping your inner fangirl in check who's bursting to start doing a celebration dance at this dazzling turn of events.

"Yeah," you nod, returning Van's warm grin with one of your own. "Yeah... I'd really like that."

#good touch #catb imagines #van mccann x reader #fanfic #vanfic #smut

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angelssung · 2 years

Text

how to (successfully) apologise to your significant other.

summary: your boyfriend wants to apologise for constantly ditching you in the middle of your dates.

warning: swearing? that’s basically it lol

genre: fluff, slight angst, 90’s au, whipped jeno & a side of petty reader LOOOOL

pairings: jeno x gender neutral!reader

a/n: planned out a jaemin series after watching a friend of mine’s youtube channel hehe >:3 stay tuned for that!

The sounds of tiny rocks lightly hitting your window was the last thing you were expecting to hear on a Friday at 11:27pm.

To avoid the rest of your family waking up from the noise, you decided to go see who wanted to bother you at this time.

When you opened your window, the sounds of tiny whispers coming from an unknown place could be heard. Was there someone hiding?

Looking out your window, you locked eyes with the boy you had been dating for almost 2 years. There was a lump of something unidentifiable, maybe a bag filled with things? It was a bit difficult to identify what it was, but you supposed that could wait for a later conversation.

“Go away.” You hissed, about to step back and shut the blinds as a means of avoiding him, but Jeno continued to stand where he was, holding a boombox with ease.

“No! Just hold on a second and hear me out, please.” You could hear the slight crack in his voice as he begged you to give him a chance to listen.

Deliberately choosing not to verbally respond, you stayed stationary in your current position - watching him from your window, giving him the hint that you were silently telling him to continue.

You might have not been an open book, but he still read your actions very well and could often tell what you were thinking. Perks of being your boyfriend, and all of that.

Jeno coughed multiple times, before hitting the play button on his boombox.

“Caaaaaliforniaa loooove-“ Your boyfriend fumbled to skip the song to the next song. Fantasy by Mariah Carey started playing. You recognised these songs as some that you enjoyed… did he make a mixtape? Specifically for you?

“Agh, shit, give me a minute please (Y/N).”

You deadpanned, “I don’t know why I still like you.”

“I’m glad we kinda share the same sentiment, hun. But at least I know why I like you!” Finally, he played the appropriate song that he had in mind for this situation. Let’s Stay Together by Al Green started quietly playing from the speakers.

“...Have you forgiven me yet?”

“No.” “I have your favourite snacks in this bag!”

“But I want to hear a specific word come out from your mouth.”

“I’ll say what you want, cause I actually mean it. Look, I came here to apologise. I know I haven’t been the best boyfriend as of recently-“

“Yeah asshole, spending time with your friends is normal, but constantly ditching me and even ditching me in the middle of a date to hang out with your friends? You’re the best boyfriend in the world.” Sarcasm dripped from your lips, making Jeno wince.

He then let out a sigh, “There’s no excuse for my behaviour, and I will admit that I was a total jerkface or however those shitty rom-coms we watch say these things. We however, are not in a shitty rom-com movie, and I want to make it up to you. Really.”

You raised a brow at his words, “And you couldn’t have picked a better time of day? Usually if someone wants to hang out, they hang out in the daytime so that they can go get some good sleep at night.”

“Just please come down here,” he whined, “If you don’t wanna go out with me now, that’s fine. It’s a hot-as-fuck summer night. At least take the things I got you, and give me an answer? Even if it’s just ‘give me time to think’?”

Pointing a finger at him playfully, you gave him a small smile, “You owe me several dates for the next month to make up for all twelve dates you pissed me off. Uninterrupted.”

“I just spent money on the stuff I go-” The uninterested look on your face made Jeno immediately retract his words, “Deal. Jisung owes me money and I’ll pick up more shifts at the diner, no big deal.”

Lifting a hand, the two of you stood in silence. After a bit of contemplation from your end, Jeno watched your figure run out of your room and out the back of your house quietly.

Obviously you weren’t gonna jump out of your window. You weren’t gonna break your limbs to see your boyfriend, you wouldn’t want to do that right after he apologised for being a complete ass.

Closing the door, the next thing you knew, a dog plushie, a bouquet of your flowers and a bag of your favourite snacks were being gently placed into your arms.

“I forgive you, but all this trouble for me?” Blinking, you looked up slowly at him.

Jeno simply shrugged, “You’re worth going the extra mile for.”

The sound of a familiar - scratch that, two familiar voices going ‘aww!’ in the bushes could be heard, followed by a ‘shut up! you’re ruining it!’ from a certain Huang.

“You’re forgiven, Nono.” At the mention of his familiar nickname, Jeno’s eyes lit up, making you smile fondly.

The two of you leaned closer to each other, not saying a word, but simply smiling at one another.

“My god, just kiss already, I’m tired of you two acting like Ross and Rachel or whatever!” Your mom yelled, startling everyone else outside. The rocks must’ve woken her up, you deduced.

As the two of you turned to look at one another, a pout formed on Jeno’s face while he shrugged, “Well, now that we’ve got permission from the audience…”

Lifting a hand up, you quickly ran over to your mom, giving her the items to hold before dashing back to your boyfriend and pulling him in by his collar for a long kiss.

Feeling your boyfriend’s hands slowly working their way up your ass, you smacked them away, making him pout.

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eleni-cherie · 8 months

Text

a thief's end ✨ || bts • myg - chapter 1.0

"so eager to be in a headlock again?" "only if it's by you."

he thought he was done with the criminal life and ready for some peace and quiet. but his plans collapsed in the form of a strange girl who was in trouble.

»»»

masterlist: here

— genre: thief au, gangster comedy, adventure, romcom, humour, angst, fluff, sexual tensiON, slowburn, mutual pining, strangers to lovers s2l

ALTERNATIVE UNIVERSE. CHARACTERS NOT NECESSARILY LIKE THE REAL PERSONS. ALSO VERY UNREALISTIC PLOT LOL - JUST PRETEND READING A MANGA/COMIC OR WATCHING A FILM, REALLY.

SUGGESTIVE THEMES. MENTIONS OF VIOLENCE & BLOOD (BUT NOTHING TOO GRAPHIC, IT'S STILL A COMEDY!)

»»»

"Seeing anything yet?" "Just a bunch of high-class, low-life fat cats, all cleaned up for prom," Taehyung mumbled, seeing a white laborghini lining up next to ferraris and porsches in the grand forecourt of the meditarranean mansion in the distance. "But no sign of anyone we care about." Yoongi sighed, grabbing another pair of binoculars and took a look himself. "Well, that will change when we get there" Jimin said, taking a look at the mansion's blueprint instead. Making sure to check every possible escape route. "Looks like the office room is in the building behind the manor.. You see it from up there?" Taehyung left his seat on the grassy rock and stood up. Focusing the binoculars on the back buildings instead, spotting a spire. "Just the very top of it.." "Wonder what they got tucked away in there," Jimin lightly chuckled, only earning a side-eye from Yoongi who simply laughed under his breath realising his friend would probably never change.

Once a thief, always a thief.

"Let's just focus on finding Soyeon for now." "I don't know.." Jimin mumbled, glancing up at Taehyung, "You don't wanna pick up something for the wife?" Taehyung huffed a laugh, his eyes leaving the mansion to peek at him. Not actually taking his propose seriously. "That's cute.. But just keep it simple."

"Right. Simple." Jimin sighed disappointed and dusted off the work clothing he was wearing over his smoking. A precautious measure so their outfits wouldn't get dirty and raise suspicion at the party. "I'll be on my way then to sneak in with my charms. You two wait for my sign."

The two hummed, watching him walk down the path between the trees they had come from. Their gaze focusing back at the sun-colored mansion then.

The plan was for Jimin to use his skills and wits to get inside and schmooze his way right through that party, change security system up a bit, unlock the window in that office room and let them in. Solozzo would most likely be there and recognise Yoongi, so he didn't have any other option but to sneak in.

Half an hour of waiting later, the older guy lowered the binoculars, getting tired of watching luxury caey one after another driving up the serpentine road to the mansion.

"You think they caught him?" "Nah, don't think so." "Maybe he got lost then?" Taehyung eyed him with an arched brow, knowing he couldn't possiby mean it as Jimin would always memorize the whole map before entering a building. "What if -" Yoongi's worries were cut off by Taehyung lightly hitting his chest, catching his attention. "There," he said, motioning at the side towards a balcony. Yoongi heaved his binoculars back and indeed, a light was going on and off in the room. Jimin's sign. "See?"

Yoongi rolled his eyes as he zipped Taehyung's work clothing up. "Just try to keep your tux clean." Taehyung only huffed. Unzipping the collar again as soon as Yoongi turned around. And they got off the rock and into the scrub. The setting sun bathing the building in the distance and scenery into a warm atmosphere.

They made their way through the high grass, eventually reaching the edge of the cliff the mansion was on. It was only a few meters between them and the stone fence surrounding the building that they had to climb. And they had almost reached the top when Yoongi's hand grabbed Taehyung's shoulder, preventing him from going further. "Hold up. I hear someone," he whispered.

And indeed, only a few seconds later the younger guy was also able to hear voices. Two men, probably guards, were speaking in italian further away. Taehyung hadn't heard them earlier, but Yoongi did. Listening intensely despite not understanding anything. They carefully peeked their heads out, seeing the guards holding up some big machine guns, entering a side building then. They waited a few seconds more, making sure the coast was clear. "Okay, we're good." "Damn, did you see him? That guy was carrying some serious heat," Taehyung said as they heaved themselves over the stone, not hiding how stunned he was. He patted his holster under the working attire then, making sure his magnum was still there. "Good thing we came prepared."

Yoongi nodded quietly, shifting his katana's strap on his shoulder. His gaze wandering up to the beautiful building in front of them.

They reached underneath he balcony of the office room, it not being too high as it was on ground level. Taehyung gave Yoongi a leg-up to climb up first before grabbing his reached out hand and climbing up himself. And just as planned the balcony door was unlocked, Taehyung about to enter when Yoongi stopped him once again. "What?" With a look of appeal, Yoongi unzipped his work clothes and took them off. Revealing his tuxedo. Reminding him to do the same. And Taehyung snickered, realising he'd almost entered like this. Quickly, he got rid off the blue work clothing as well, throwing it behind the bushes underneath them.

They entered the dark room then, squinting their eyes to get adjusted when recognising a figure behind the broad wooden desk. "Jimin?" The desk light got dramatically switched on, revealing Jimin sitting in a big puffy armchair with a mischievous grin. "You know what I love about parties with rich crooks? No one expects to get their pockets picked." A golden chain fell from his fingers, dangling and shimmering under the light. The two sighing almost simulataneously. "You really can't help it, huh?" "I could. But it's just too funny messing with rich people," he chuckled and got up. "Let's try to do what we're here for and get outta here instead." "Yeah, ugh about that.." Jimin's voice trailed off as he led them out, cautiously not to stumble into anyone. Yoongi swallowed, not liking his tone. "W-why? What about that?" "C'mon, lemme show you something."

They walked past long carpeted hallways with paintings and statues until reaching the railing of the upper floor balcony, mingling unnoticed with the other guest scattered up there. Looking down at the grand hall where the rest was gathered at. Drinking and laughing over the live band's music.

Jimin pointed at two men who were awkwardly standing at the hall's front, looking into their filled glasses. "Cops. I saw them when I arrived. They must be high-ranking ones from the looks of it. And then this-" His finger wandered behind them. "See that door?" They nodded. A tall guard was blocking its entry. "According to the blueprint it's a small room for stuff members, you know like a break room with no windows. But it got that goon guarding it.." He glanced at them with raised brows. "Suspicious isn't it?" Yoongi's jaw tightened, getting what Jimin was implying. "You think she's there?" He shrugged. "She might. I definitely caught our Mr. Sleezy junior coming out of there and whispering something to the guard's ear. The only way to find out is to get in there."

"You said no windows?" Taehyung questioned, taking a thinking expression. "No windows. But right behind is the wine cellar.." He eyed Yoongi with a suggestive look and it didn't take long for Yoongi to respond with a knowing one. "But how do I get into the kitchen? The staff will get alerted if they see a random man there and we didn't bring any disguises. And I'd need to also get her out without them noticing." "Jeez, you guys act like you've never spent time in custody," Jimin sighed disappointedly, "If you want something dirty done then you wait.." The others exchanged a smirk. "..for lights out." "Exactly. "Where's the electrical panel for this place?" Descretedly, he pulled the blueprint out of his suit's pocket and showed them a spot on it. "Up here. So we gotta climb up there and kill the lights." "And get inside and past the cooks and servants in the dark." "There'll surely be an emergency generator though." They nodded at Taehyung's concern. Yoongi inhaled sharply. "That'll give us a few seconds of darkness.. It should still work." "You sure?" He nodded with detemination. "Yes. Meaning I'll have to be right next to the door when the lights go out though." "Except there's no way we can get that close without being noticed. There's no one else standing there in a four-metre-radius." A waitress came in that moment, offering them antipasti on a tablet, which only Jimin accepted. "Would you focus?" Taehyung mumbled under his breath as the waitress left to serve the guests next to them. Jimin rolled his eyes, stuffing the small snack into his mouth, nodding at the direction of the waitress. "A waiter wouldn't get noticed." Yoongi's eyes lit up. "That would work. I could sneak into the kitchen from the backdoor then."

"That will work." Jimin clapped his hands excitedly. "Alright, change of plans. Yoongi, you sneak into the wine cellar as a waiter and I'll get to the breaker room, kill the power in the kitchen right on time for you and Soyeon to get out of there." "Alright," Yoongi continued, turning to Taehyung. "And you head to the front, keep an eye on that door, okay? Let us know if anything, uh.. odd goes down." The younger guy nodded vigorously. "Before we go," Jimin said then, grabbing into his pocket. His hand opened then, revealing three in-ear-transmitters on his palm. "We still need these." Everyone picked one, shoving it into their ear before exchanging glances. "We got this."

»»»

It wasn't hard for Yoongi to find a waiter to exchange clothes with. Waiting at the kitchen's backdoor for someone to come out for a smoke was an easy bet. And indeed, only a few minutes later a waiter came out to lighten a cigarette. Giving Yoongi the opportunity to jump off the canopy and knock him down, dragging him behind a storage room.

"You good?" Jimin's voice echoed through the in-ear. Yoongi huffed, shuffling into the dress shirt. "Yeah.. these clothes are just a bit too big for me." "Well, that's the style these days anyway.. I'm almost at the power room. Tae? You good?" "Yeah, not much movement here."

Taking a breath, he entered the busy kitchen, grabbing a silver tablet from the side and mixing with the rushing waiters as if he belonged there. And as expected, everyone was in such a hurry and stressed that no one noticed the new face in their colleague's clothes. The kitchen was big, perhaps bigger than a restaurant's. Chefs, souschefs and simple cooks yelling among each other while preparing dishes. He dodged a waitress with a plate of soup who almost bumped into him when Taehyung spoke up from the front of the ball room. "I just came across that Solozzo guy. He was talking to some guy about being on stand-by for the boss' 'big reveal'." "Just as we expected, the necklace." Yoongi's jaw clenched until Taehyung continued with irritation in his voice, confounding Jimin's words. "I don't think he meant the necklace though.." "Huh, you sure? What else?" "Dunno. But he instructed the guy to be cautious so it wouldn't escape.. Guys, I think Soyeon's actually the big reveal. Or her and the necklace. But she's definitely involved."

Yoongi's eyes widened. Of course. Now everything made sense. "He wants to expose the thief's identity and also ridicule the cops. That's why they got invited. To show he managed getting his necklace back without the police's help." "Damn, that's twisted." "And narcissistic." "But she wouldn't be the one getting in trouble," Taehyung pointed out then, "While he actually kidnapped her. Isn't he scared of exposing his own crime?" "A rich guy like that? He'd surely pay off police and anyone else if someone found out she wasn't there on her own will." Yoongi almost collided with a cook who was hurriedly passing a saucier to a colleague. Everyone was so busy and rushing around that no one paid attention to the waiter who sneaked into the wine cellar.

The wine cellar was bigger than expected, similar to the kitchen. Dim lights and lowered temperature for the sensitive liquids, along with stacks and stacks of dark barrels and lined up bottles in shelves, creating an eery atmosphere.

According to the blueprint, the wall to the left was the one connected to the room they wanted to get in. He got his sword out from the back of the dress shirt, the large fit having been quite practical after all, and began to cut a small hole in the wall so that he could look inside carefully, in case there was another security guard lurking behind it.

The room on the other side had a much simpler interior, contrary to the extravagantly decorated rest of the house. Probably because it was supposed to only be a staff members room. He couldn't recognise much else though, so he enlarged the hole. Hearing a quiet: "What the hell?" from the other side which made him instantly smile in relief. Jimin's intuition had been right again. "Soyeon?" "Yoongi?"

It was silent for a moment, until a feline eye suddenly appeared in front of the hole. Looking right back at him. "How.. What are you doing here?" Soyeon whispered, beaming with joy when unexpectedly seeing him there. "What do you think I'm doing?" he scoffed playfully, an amused grin spreading on his features then. "Go aside, I'll make it bigger so you can fit through." She quickly stepped away, watching the hole crumble more and growing bigger in no time. Dust rose, clouding her vision for a moment and she coughed. Soon recognising Yoongi's silhouette when it began settling. He slid his sword back to its sheath, standing there with a lopsided smile on his face. "Hey, there." Soyeon's lips instantly tucked into a smirk and she folded her arms. "Missed me so much, had to chase me all the way to Italy, huh?" "Something like that," he said, the smile never leaving his face when noticing something sparkling around her neck then. And he frowned. "You wear the necklace?"

Her eyes widened and she looked down, having completely forgotten about it. "Y-yeah, they also gave me new clothes and even did my make-up, as you see.." She tugged at the long black dress and he had to quickly look away when feeling himself staring. Her appearance not only making his cheeks flush. "I don't know why exactly though, I didn't understand a word as they spoke Italian to me.." He hummed, his theory only varifying when he watched her taking off the piece of jewelry and tossing it back into the room. Looking at her dumbfounded to which she simply shrugged. "What? Obviously I don't want it!"

"Guys, I don't wanna interrupt the cute get-together, but something's happening," Taehyung's voice hushed on the other line of the transmitter, "Our guy got on stage and started delivering a speech. Something about wanting to be the one hosting this year for a special reason.. and Solozzo is going in the direction of the door now." "Crap," Yoongi muttered to which Soyeon looked confused. "We gotta go." He grabbed her wrist and led her to the cellar's door, opening it carefully and glancing through the crack. Trying remembering the route back. "Alright, Yoongi, I'm at the switch. You ready?" Yoongi breathed, having spotted the backdoor around the corner from the grocery boxes. "Yeah, let's ruin this jerk's party."

In an instant, everything turned black. Voices becoming louder and panicked as Yoongi tucked Soyeon past everyone, making sure not to bump into anyone by walking near cabinets and they reached the exit right when the generator switched the lights back on. The two disappearing outside.

Breathing heavily from the adrenaline rush, she propped her hand against the wall. "Damn, that was quite risky!" He nodded, still holding her wrist. "We're not done yet. Still have to make it out of the property. Okay?" She nodded, catching her breath again and Yoongi tapped at the in-ear. "Guys, how's it looking?" "I'm on my way to the meeting place," Jimin announced. "Well, as for me.." Taehyung whispered, "I'm quietly leaving the hall. Trying getting to the front door. Solozzo just interrupted the speech by whispering something in his ear. I think we all know what. So prepare for sht to go down real quick and them locking everything up." Yoongi hummed. "Alright, going to the meeting place then. Be quick." He turned his focus to Soyeon then. "How well can you climb?" Her eyes widened in alert. "Wh- not very. Why?" He gave her an apologetic look. "I fear we have to. It's only a few meters though." Leading her to the stone fence where he and Taehyung had previously climbed up from, he swung his legs over it. Waiting for her to follow.

Soyeon gulped, taking a look down before backing off. "I know it seems high, but we don't have much time left," he softly spoke up with an apologetic look. "You can do this, okay?" And she bit her lips, nodding. Knowing someone might catch them soon if they didn't hurry. So she gathered the dress' long fabric in her hands, making a knot to shorten it and allow her getting over the fence easier. With a deep breath, she grabbed it's edge as tightly as she could and climbed down. It was indeed only a few meters and yet it felt like a long way to go. Carefully, she set her feet on wherever they touched and followed him. Regretting not having taken off the high heels.

Suddenly they heard someone roaming the area above them. Yelling. Most likely guards looking for them. Soyeon's fingers clutched harder into the rocks as she did her best to keep herself up and not lose balance. The voices soon disappeared and Yoongi gave her a sign to continue.

They reached the end of the cliff, Yoongi being the first to touch ground again. Holding his hands out for her to grab and pulling her up with force. Causing her to collide with his chest and both stumbled, landing on the grass. For a moment they groaned in pain before bursting out laughing. And they quickly got up, brushing the dirt off the clothes when more shouts and noises came from inside the property. And they hid in the high grass, stealthing their way to the front. Tall plants covering them from the sight of the street when Yoongi took a look through the bars of the entrance gate. His eyes spotting the silver mercedes Jimin had hotwired to use for his entrance among the other high-class cars. It was still parked there but no sight of the other and he began worrying, wondering where the two were. The in-ear didn't seem to work either as he was outside and most likely out of its radius. He went closer, seeing the guards in the forecourt were also running into the building to see what was happening inside. Giving him the opportunity to draw his sword and slicing the metal bars, pushing it wide open. They entered the property once again, hurrying to the mercedes while ducking behind the parked cars.

"Stay here and get down," he instructed her then in a low voice when she slid inside the backseat. She grabbed his arm though, her eyes bewildered. "Where are you going?" He sighed, releasing her hand from its grip. "My friends are inside there. I should go check why they're taking so long." "Wait, your friends are actually here? Taehyung and.. Jimin?" He nodded, seeing her brows raising as she sank more into her seat. "Why are they.. why are you..?" She tried comprehending when gunshots were heard from inside the building, causing them both to tense up and look at the direction of the building. It wasn't hard to guess who they were aimed for. His jaw tightened and he swallowed. Brown irises falling back to her with apprehension. "Don't worry, okay?" She nodded and he gave her a small smile before tightening the grip around his sword. Jogging towards the entrance when the door suddenly flew open. Seeing none other than Taehyung and Jimin running out of it while shooting behind them.

"Run, run, run!" "Crap!"

They all ran back to the silver car, reaching it when a bunch of guards appeared at the doorframe, shooting at them like mad. Hitting not only theirs but also neighboring cars, breaking the rare window of a yellow ferrari. "There goes the insurance," Jimin chuckled as he took the driver's seat and started the engine. Taehyung following suit into the passenger seat while Yoongi went to his usual spot in the back, next to Soyeon who was crouching in fear of getting hit by a random bullet. The tires squeaked when Jimin floored the gaspedal and they dashed out of the gates and down the road. Curving every serpentine in a dangerously sharp angle, throwing them from one side to another. Soyeon's elbow accidentally hitting Yoongi's rip at one point.

"Are they behind us?"

"I can see one -" A bullet hit the trunk, cutting off Taehyung. And scowl spread over his eyes as he turned in his seat, leaning out of the window. "Not for long though. Hold the car steady!" he yelled. Jimin huffed, overtaking a truck. "That's easier said then done!" The car swayed again when another bullet almost hit the side-mirror. "Try for two seconds!" And he did. Allowing Taehyung to fire three precise shots, audibly hitting the pursuer. The car behind them swerved, spinning out and leaving it's lane before crushing into the trench on the side of the road. And he fell back to his seat with a content grin. Jimin errupting into a fit of laughs as they left the country road and entered the highway, heading north towards the city. "Damn, that was fun! I forgot how much fun this is!" "You idiot almost got us killed," Taehyung groaned, throwing him an annoyed glare. "I did not. It's not my fault this guy suddenly turned around the corner right when I got out of the vent!" "Why were you there anyway?" His friend rolled his eyes. "It was the fastest way back from the power room, duh." And Soyeon observed them bewilderedly as they joked and teased. It was a hairbreadth escape and they were just laughing it off like it was nothing. "You guys are really used to that kind of stuff, huh?" she faintly giggled. Rising from her crouched position to straighten herself again. "You could say so."

Yoongi shrugged nonchalantly, a small grin on his lips, making her laugh under her breath. She leaned forward then, peeking her head between the two in the front. "I remember you, you're the doctor's husband," she smiled and pointed at Taehyung, her head then switching to Jimin. "But we haven't met yet, I've only heard of you." Jimin gave her a brief smile before focusing back on the road. "Only good stuff I hope!" "Of course," she grinned and sat back. Dragging out a sigh then when peeking at Yoongi who was quietly staring outside. Deep in thoughts as it seemed. The airstream tousing his long dark waves. "Seriously, I can't thank y'all enough.. I don't know how to make it up to you." She didn't know why those strangers helped her. Hell, she didn't even know why Yoongi even still bothered. He was often still a mystery to her. And yet he and his friends risked so much for her. And her hand covered his which was laying on his lap. Giving him a gentle smile when he perked up at her touch and looked at her. Returning the smile.

"Food. Food is always a good way," Taehyung grinned, when eyeing Yoongi from the rare view mirror. Winking at him. "But it was nothing, seriously. Don't worry. We've been doing this kind of stuff all the time." "And besides.." Jimin slid his hand into his blaze's inner pocket. Revealing the goldchain he had taken from that rich lady. "I did get my souvenir. Bella's gonna love it."

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next chapter: 1.1 here

Don't forget to like, reblog & leave feedback!♡

It motivates me to keep writing :)

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