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kiwisbell · 6 months

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Honey-Do [joel miller]

It’s Sunday, chore day, and Joel has a honey-do list item of his own: get his girl pregnant.

my masterlist!

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

rating: 18+ (mdni)

tags and warnings: pre-outbreak joel, married!joel, pure fluff and smut, slight au, body worship, some cock worship, handyman!joel, malewife!joel, joel “my wife doesn’t lift a finger in this home” miller, vague daddy undertones, overstimulation, joel miller is a munch, oral sex (m and f receiving), unprotected PIV (wrap it up unless you’re joel), creampie, breeding kink, actual breeding, talks of pregnancy, pregnancy kink, domestic bliss, joel’s love language being acts of service and by that i mean putting a baby in his wife, competence kink

word count: ~ 10k (someone stop me)

read on ao3!

a/n: hello, lovelies!! i received this ask ages ago and the idea inevitably snowballed because who is self-control?? does she go to a different school? anyway, this fic is pure plotless domestic fluff and domestic smut (is that a thing? yes!), so i really hope you all enjoy! pre-outbreak joel is very special to me xoxo

HONEY-DO

Your shared bedroom looks out over the eastern sunrise. A mutually-assured vigil, keeping one another safe—and timely.

In the mornings, the golden light spills through the break in the curtains. It will peek slowly inside and gently warm your body awake, testing the limits of its power. When you roll over and make a soft groan of protest in your sleep, seeking more warmth, the little strip of sunlight will widen, directing you. You will find the body next to yours, nuzzling close, your nose bumping his bare chest, and settle happily against it. In return, his body will seek yours, symbiotic exchange, a greedy arm pulling you closer.

In frustration, the sun grumbles it way higher in the sky, shining brighter and spreading wider.

It takes a couple tries to get it right: to shine in just the right way to make you blink rapidly awake, squinting in the glow. You gradually come to life, your lungs sucking in the first deep breath of morning air, your naked body stretching like a cat in the sunspot. Dust hovers lazily in the air, heralding a Sunday occupied by chores. The room is still, silent, and kissed by morning rays. Peaceful.

You examine him in the light: tanned skin sparkling gold, plush lips slightly parted, broad chest rising and falling. His hair is pleasantly tousled from sleep. There are patches of silver beginning to thread through his dark brown beard, and in your self-sustaining state of affection, you gently put your lips to one of the patches of skin where hair does not grow.

Your persistence grows with every second he refuses to wake. It may be a bit petulant, your lips smattering soft kisses across his jaw, beneath his ear, down to his neck and all its veins, but it begins to work. He stirs, groaning softly, turning onto his side and wrapping both arms around your waist. He does all of this without opening his eyes, resting his head on your belly and nuzzling against you as if he could get any closer—sated, for now, his body knowing nothing but the pull toward you.

You comb your fingers through his messy hair and listen to him breathe while he listens to your heartbeat.

“It’s ten,” you whisper.

“Hmph,” he says against your belly. He hasn’t opened his eyes yet; if you didn’t know his breathing patterns like they were mapped out in the lines of your palms, you would think he’s still sleeping.

“We slept in,” you point out.

Joel gently bumps his forehead into your stomach as if he were banging his head against a wall. “Shit,” he grumbles.

You laugh as his moustache tickles your skin. “Do you want to get up now?”

Another grunt, accompanied by a shake of his head. Big, strong arms pull you closer.

“I’ll make you breakfast,” you coo, stroking his hair away from his face. “Eggs… bacon… coffee…”

Joel presses his lips to your belly. “Don’t go takin’ my job, now,” he says, his voice groggy with disuse. “No girl of mine’s gonna run around gettin’ her own damn coffee.”

“Hmm. Means you have to move, Romeo.”

This earns a playful smack to the side of your thigh, his big, callused hand kneading your flesh while he wakes himself up with mouthfuls of your scent—linen and vanilla—and gulps down the sunlight glowing on your skin.

“Never mind,” you sigh, dreamy and complacent under his attention.

His eyes finally crack open, peering up at you, honey-brown pools touched by the golden light. He rests his chin on your belly and keeps his arms wrapped around your hips. His fingers trace shapes up and down your lower back. “You got a honey-do list?” he asks with a crooked grin.

Your tongue wets your bottom lip. “That depends. Can I get you to mow the lawn without a shirt on?”

“What do I get if I do?” he teases, his hand moving to your hip, contouring his hand to the shape of you.

You lift a brow, easing your legs apart underneath his body, letting him feel the warmth between your thighs. Like a moth to the goddamn flame, his eyes wide and eager, Joel crawls down your body with his mouth on your belly. Pausing just above your naked cunt, he blows cool air onto your clit and watches you squirm.

“After,” you gasp. “After chores, honey. We’ll never get up if we start now.”

“Don’t think I can make my woman come in good time?” he challenges, his palms keeping your thighs spread. Your pretty pussy glistens before his eyes, better than any fuckin’ breakfast. He begins to salivate.

Your head falls back into the pillows. “I never said that.”

Joel isn’t listening anymore. He kneads your thighs as he peers at you above your belly, your tits, to the curve of your jaw as you lie comfortably. Good. His baby ain’t about to get herself worked up on a Sunday morning.

He lowers his face just enough to let you feel his lashes tickling your lower belly, and you giggle his name, the sound pure adrenaline to his blood. You're so soft and supple under his fingers, moulding to his touch, letting him take care of you. You may be in charge of him, but this is where he takes control.

He presses a soft kiss to your clit and you sigh, your head turning toward the direction of the sun. It warms your face while your husband slides his tongue through your wet slit, lazily and sleepily, as though he's operating on instinct alone. Gathering up your wetness on his tongue, he groans, his fingers dimpling your thighs.

“Taste so fuckin’ sweet,” he murmurs. “Fuckin’ made for me.”

“Oh, God,” you whisper, your eyes fluttering. “Baby…”

That sweet little whine is poison. He cannot do anything but continue to drink you down, flicking his tongue against your clit. He's a sucker and he's always been. Your pretty fuckin’ smile from across the bar that first night; your tight black dress and the too-sweet cocktail you smooth-talked him into ordering that had his adenoids prickling; your instinct for sensing others’ troubles and your uncanny ability to make them feel like they have none at all. He never stood a chance.

He knows for a goddamn fact every man in the bar that night wanted to do to you what Joel is doing now: lapping up your juices with his tongue, spit mingling with arousal, warming his body between your thighs under the watch of the mid-morning sun. But he got you. Joel. He bought you a drink and he took you on a date. He got to taste your pretty pussy and he got to sit you on his dick—after the second date, that is.

He's the one who gets to wake up with you, share matching gold bands around your fingers, kiss you freely. As far as he's concerned, he's the luckiest guy on the fuckin’ planet.

He feels particularly green when your back arches, your lips parting around his name, relishing in the feeling of his mouth on your clit. You're unashamed to take pleasure, never shy about telling him Oh, fuck, yes! Right there, honey! Joel, yes, that feels so good, baby.

Joel preens with pride. His hot tongue glides over your clit, smooth and wet, easily coaxing you to a languid high. The golden spotlight through the curtains shines on you. You're the starlet and he's the adoring fan. From the first day, he knew he'd do anything to make you notice him.

“This wasn’t your first bar fight, was it?”

Plucking pieces of glass out of his bloodied knuckles, you looked up through your lashes at Joel, who had been staring at you since you sat him down in the bathroom. Okay—a little longer than that.

He shook his head.

You just smiled at him and gently shook your head. About as much reproach as he would get. “This might sting. Just hold on tight if you need to.”

“Like the sound of that,” he said quietly, and if you heard, you didn't comment. You guided his hand under the warm water and washed the rest of the blood from his knuckles, gently smoothing the pads of your fingers over his rough worker’s hands. Capable, you thought, idly watching the blood swirl into the drain. He barely winced when you put his hand under.

“Wanna tell me why you did it?” you asked him, your tone soothing and sweet.

Joel shrugged. Big, broad shoulders. Humbly strong, until someone made him show it. “Ain't manly to touch a woman like that.”

You lifted your brows. “But it's manly to beat the shit out of the guy who touched her?”

Joel studied your face. Cherry-red lip gloss. Gently flushed cheeks from a healthy couple drinks. The instinctual rise and fall of your chest as you breathed, the lighting shifting gently over your collarbones. It was fascinating just to watch you breathe. Even cleaning his bloody knuckles, you slowly circled the pad of your thumb over the back of his hand, like an innate urge to comfort. Your eyes had an old wisdom to them; a particular gleam a person gained when they were familiar with the hardships life had to offer.

He wanted to ask you. He wanted to know everything. He wanted to do more than beat up some asshole who thought he could get away with pinching your ass.

But he would earn it. A real man earned what he got.

“Didn’t beat the shit out of him. Just roughed him up,” he says.

He watched you bite down on a smile. “You're a little twisted, Joel.”

“Yeah?” He smirked, eyes flicking to your dewy lips, coated with that gloss. “Think so?”

“Yeah.” You licked your bottom lip and he wondered if you tasted like cherries. “But I'm going to ask you on a date anyway.”

Your fingers curl in Joel’s messy hair, making him groan into your pussy. “Oh, baby,” you gasp, cracking your heavy eyes open to watch him lap at you, practically petting his hair away from his face as his big brown eyes remain fixed to yours.

He purrs, suckling your clit between his lips, his eyes eagerly drinking in the sight of your flushed, tightening body. Making you come is one thing. Watching it is another. Your back arches and your fingers pull on his hair. Scalp prickling, Joel grips your thighs tighter. He’d let you peel away pounds of his flesh if it made you happy. He’d go eagerly to the grave knowing he had put some good into the world, put some light in your eyes.

“Joel, I’m… I’m coming—ah!” you cry, your thighs squeezing his head, your sensitive clit pulsing under his tongue as your pussy contracts around itself, seeking something nice and big to grasp onto. His cock is aching, his hips grinding idly against the mattress for relief, his head fuzzy from the pleasure of making you feel good. Your body slowly melts into the bed, your limbs twitching as the tension in your muscles loosens, your lips parted permanently around his name.

Eyes drooping and teary, you try to find him between your thighs, gently stroking his hair away from his face as it begins to fall into his big brown eyes. “Need a haircut,” you croak.

Joel hums, his head listing to the side, using your soft thigh as a pillow. He nips you playfully, your skin a golden path he intends to follow to the end. His hands caress your hips, helping you come down to Earth. You admire the delectable convex slope of his nose, the way it curves deliciously against your skin when he kisses, bites, inhales. He’s freckled and indented with the signifiers of a lived-in life; a good life. His is a likeness you could trace with your eyes closed.

It’s eleven o’clock, and your stomach begins to grumble.

Joel chuckles, pressing a long kiss to your belly. “Gettin’ up now,” he says. “Promise.”

He pulls on a pair of sweatpants, tucking his hard cock away to be dealt with later. Padding down the stairs, Joel is quick to tend to your needs, putting on a fresh pot of coffee. After so long together, his mind operates on autopilot, steering him from the cupboard to the refrigerator and back to the steaming pot, occupied with the menial task of making a good cup. The gentle clinking scrape of the spoon as he stirs your milk into the cup wakes him up until he feels practically revitalised. He keeps his coffee black.

He hears the soft tread of your feet behind him, feels the warmth of your body as you crowd his space, smiles at the way you smooth your palms over the planes of his muscled back in unadulterated admiration. His shoulders are wide, tapering down to the soft belly you’ve nurtured through years of cooking. He’s sturdy and strong and all yours. The sight of him always makes you a bit giddy.

“So handsome,” you whisper, wrapping your arms around his middle and pressing your face between his shoulder blades. The buffed claws of his woodsy pine scent hook into the spaces between your ribs.

Joel lifts your hand to his mouth and kisses the wedding band on your finger, the engagement ring above it. “Sit down, baby. Coffee’s ready.”

You grin against his back, nudging your nose into his tanned skin. “Mmm. That sounds good. But I wanna stay here. ‘s nice and warm.”

“Girl of my dreams,” Joel murmurs, reaching around his back and patting your ass. “C’mon, I’ll keep you warm.”

You grumble your way to the little circular table in the kitchen, tucked into the alcove at the front window. It’s a souvenir from your parents' garage sale when they decided to sell their home and move to Austin. As a girl, you’d draw, scratch, and paint on that table, endlessly entertaining yourself by marking things up. Even now, there are remnants of your childhood in the worn grooves and chipped varnish. It fits nicely into your home, perfectly suited to two. It could even fit one more.

You ruminate as you watch Joel carry two mugs to the table. He knows which cup is your favourite: green ceramic decorated with tiny flowers, perfectly contoured to the shape and size of your hands, warming your palms just nicely between sips. Joel’s mug shows its age: white but slightly yellowed from years of use, bigger than yours. The steam of the coffee gently curls into the air, a dance of silvery ribbons in lock-step. They twist together as you purse your lips and blow. The rich, smooth caramel hue of your coffee contrasts the tar-black of Joel’s.

Since you dragged yourself out of bed on shaky legs, you shrugged on the navy T-shirt he tossed aside last night to give his greedy wife access to his chest. You'd carved some decent marks into his skin, now that you're properly looking: tiny bruises sharpening to purple, faint pinkish scratch marks that you don't remember making.

“Baby, I don’t mind,” he says, watching you scan his chest with a frown creasing your brow.

“But it looks painful, honey. You should let me—”

“You don’t gotta do anything,” says Joel, “‘cept come over here.”

Your brows lift coyly, your body sliding out of the chair and into his lap, legs bracketing his strong thighs. His hand finds a home on your lower back, bunching the hem of his shirt up to find your ass bare, your wet cunt sitting nice and pretty on his hard cock. You gasp when the generous length meets your puffy clit with heavy pressure. “Joel…”

Your voice is a mere whimper, a soft little plea for more, or for mercy. Joel’s always had better restraint than you.

“Warmer now?” he asks, like a real arrogant asshole, slipping his hand under the shirt on your body and splaying his fingers over your ribcage, thumb grazing the underside of your breast.

You do feel warmer, crushed up against him like this. You reach behind you and grab your coffee mug, taking a small sip. Your other hand winds around his neck and scratches the tousled hair at the nape of his neck. Joel hums, leaning close, nuzzling his face between your tits.

“Gimme the list,” he says, voice muffled.

You keep on stroking his hair and drinking your coffee between list items. “Mow the lawn. Clean out the eavestrough. Fix the sink.”

“Hmm, easy work,” he says, his other hand sliding up and down your back. It makes you melt into him even more, giving him the chance to tease a nipple between his teeth through the fabric of your shirt. You huff, wiggling your hips, but he's a brick wall. He does not budge. “Gimme yours, baby.”

You recall the items on your own list. “Vacuum the house. Go for groceries. Touch up the paint on the front door. Do the laundry. Cook dinner. Cut your hair,” you add with a playful smile.

Joel frowns against your chest, pulling back to look up into your eyes like a grumpy, needy dog. “You put all that down for yourself?”

You try to placate him with a kiss on his nose. “You work so hard, sweetie. I could use some hard labour once in a while.”

Joel shakes his head. “You aren’t doin’ all that by yourself.”

“No?” You lift your brows. “Wanna buy it off me, Mr. Miller?”

“I’ll win ‘em from you,” he says, tilting his head back to kiss your jaw. “Name the price.”

You bite your lip and chase his mouth, plush and soft under that dark moustache. “I’ll think on that. Meantime, you can get to work on that lawn while I watch from the comfort of the front porch. That sound fair?”

Joel’s old Southern values rear up every now and then, imparted by his mother and his father’s mother before. Putting in an honest day’s work will make his wife comfortable and happy. He doesn't want you lifting a finger around this home if he's perfectly capable of doing the job himself. He works with his hands all day, gets dirty and sweaty. You shouldn't have to—not when you work so damn hard every other day of the week.

Joel nips your chin. “Fine. But I ain’t gonna forget that I owe you.”

“Wouldn't dream of it, baby.”

Joel finishes his coffee, but you take your time with yours, changing into a short blue sundress while Joel, regrettably, puts a pair of jeans and a shirt on. Curling your legs up on the porch swing, you watch your man start the lawnmower, enthralled by the rippling of his back muscles with every pull. You know that some of it’s for show—knowing you're watching makes him want to impress you. Sometimes, he's still the man with the teenaged crush on the girl, doing everything he can and going out of his way to make you smile. It works.

He’s methodical: making lines up and down the lawn, shearing away the too-long blades of grass under the motor. As sweat begins to bloom under his collar and his brow, he wipes his forehead with his forearm and you lick your lips, saliva pooling in your mouth at the thought of running your tongue all over his strong, naked body. Jesus. You finish off your coffee and force your eyes away from your husband for a moment. It isn't too hot from where you sit on the wraparound porch, but your chest feels sticky.

You rush inside to fill up a glass of water for him, hastily scrubbing your mug clean and putting it back in the cupboard. Maybe you should be occupying yourself with your chores today; you worry nothing will get done if you continue to watch him work in the Texas sun.

He’s just finishing when you shoulder your way back outside, his neck glistening with sweat and golden noon-hour light, warm and tempting. You set the glass on the railing and wait for him to come your way, squeezing your thighs together as your eyes trail up and down his body.

He's always been a capable man, broad and tall—so good at his job that he was offered a promotion after a few months. But it isn't just his strength or his doggedness when it comes to getting his work done. It's the way he’s so eager to finish things, to check off the items on your list, to please you. He frowns at the idea of you doing too much work. He parades you around town with a puffed-up chest, as if to announce, This is my wife. I’m her husband and I’m fucking proud. He takes your pleasure so seriously that it feels like a competitive sport—always outdoing himself, always striving for more. He loves selflessly, and yet he loves just selfishly enough to make sure the world knows you're his.

He’ll be a good daddy.

You glance down at your belly and let yourself picture it: swollen and round, ballooning big enough to fit a new life inside. You imagine smoothing your hand over a growing bump, Joel’s warm palms feeling the undulating kicks of a little baby inside, half of him and half of you. You picture back aches and swelling feet and insatiable cravings and expended energy. And not a part of it deters you. Not a speck of your willpower wavers, the way it would have mere months ago.

Something has changed. It may have been gradual and it may have been sudden. But it's new, all the same. It’s been this way since a week ago, when you looked in your nightstand at your little pink pill organiser labelled by weekday, and decided: No more.

Watching Joel make his way back to you, shielding his eyes from the light, you idly place your hand on your belly. Something new. A welcome change, you think, to have someone new sitting at our little table.

Joel climbs up the steps to the porch and gulps down the glass of water. “Thank you, baby,” he says, wiping his mouth. Your lips part as if to taste the air around him, to chew, to savour, relishing the richness.

Your pupils expand, taking in more of him, and Joel notices, placing a rough hand over yours where it rests on your belly. “You’re lost in thought, honey. Wanna tell me what's in that pretty head?”

“Just…” Your tongue wets your bottom lip. “Thank you for doing that. I know it's a big job.”

“Ain’t nothin’,” says Joel, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Got any idea how I can win those chores off you?”

Hands grasping your hips, sliding over your sweat-slick spine, saccharine noises slipping from your throat onto your tongue and out into the open air. Fingers imprinting permanent fixtures into your ribs. The heady weight of his big, fat cock wrenching you open, as it always does, slow until it isn't anymore. Desperation kicking in, a switch flipped, pummeling and brutal and unforgiving. Uncompromising. Hips pressed flush to your ass, nothing spilling out. Not a drop.

Everything sealed in tight as promises are exchanged as whispers in the dark.

“I want you to put a baby in me.”

All right. You could have been more delicate about it. Not precisely how you wanted to approach the topic, but it seems to get the job done.

Looking down at you, Joel slowly lowers the empty glass, mouth opening as he searches for words. “What?”

There’s no point in shyness or hesitation. You know your body, your mind, your heart. You thread your fingers through Joel’s and let them stay connected over your stomach. “I want you to give me a baby, Joel Miller,” you say softly, your gaze locked to his. “That's my price.”

Joel swallows thickly, his mouth still gaping. “I heard you,” he rasps. “Just… you… you mean it?”

You try not to melt over the tone of his voice: low, bordering on desperate, wanting. There’s hunger in the sound of it. “We’ve talked about it,” you offer, conciliatory. “Lots of times.”

“Yeah, we have.” Joel steps closer, his eyes dipping from your eyes to your mouth, your throat and collarbones, to your belly. His hand flexes. “You gotta be sure. You gotta know it's what you want.”

You cup his face and give him your best smile. It's the sort of smile he remembers from the very first night you met. The sort of person who is unashamed to show their joy on their face. “Honey, I want it all with you.” Your fingers squeeze his. “We’ve waited so long and I don’t want to wait anymore.”

His ears are ringing. All Joel can do is sweep you into his arms and grin into your throat, his hand firm on the back of your head, curling around a fistful of hair. “Girl of my fuckin’ dreams,” he mumbles against your skin. “I’ll make you a momma. Give you just what you want. Everything you want.”

As you close your eyes and open your ears to his ramblings, your erratic heartbeat settles. Serenity finds the pair of you, locked together on your front porch, and the next part of your life begins.

“Don’t think this gets us out of doing chores,” you tease.

“You aren’t gonna lift a goddamn finger,” says Joel fiercely, his lips still littering kisses all over your neck. “You’re havin’ a baby.”

“Honey, I’m not pregnant yet,” you laugh. “I don't need to get all lazy right away.”

“Yeah, you do, and you will. I’m gonna make you the laziest momma in Texas,” says Joel, smiling into your throat, the scratch of his moustache making you dizzy with laughter. “Gonna look so fuckin’ beautiful with a baby in you. Gonna glow like a goddamn firefly. Shit, we need to paint the spare room. I need to build a crib, get time off work—”

“Joel,” you coo, scratching your nails up and down the back of his neck. “We’ll have time to do all of that.”

He pulls back to look down at you, eyes so buttery-soft in the shade of the porch that you impulsively reach for his cheek and run your fingers through his patchy beard. “What’s next on my list?” he asks, holding you around the waist.

You tap your fingers gently against his cheek as you recite each item over again. Joel’s arms tighten, pulling you closer, pupils widening.

“And then what?” he says gruffly.

You beam, and he's so fucking in love that he may keel over, doubled by the intensity of his affection. “And then, you're going to take me to bed and put a baby in me.”

This phenomenon should be studied: how quickly Joel Miller speeds through his chores when he has enough incentive. The anticipation of bending you over on the mattress and wringing every drop of cum from his balls until your stomach swells drives each flick of his hand as he touches up the forest-green paint on the front door, weathered slightly by morning sunlight over the years. The image of his hips pressed flushed to you as he grinds deep, spilling his cum into your womb and forcing it to take, motivates every turn of the steering wheel as he drives you to the grocery store in his clunky Chevy.

He’ll need to drive to Benny’s, get the suspension fixed up; no way in hell he's going to let his pregnant wife sit on the old bench of a bumpy pickup truck, not with the speed bumps dotting the neighbourhood. At least there's a good preschool nearby. He pictures taking his baby to school and he preemptively feels the inevitable first swoop of dread into his gut knowing he'll have to watch his little girl disappear behind those doors. He knows, somehow, that it’ll be a girl. There's not a doubt in his mind.

“What are you thinkin’ about?” you ask him, playing with his fingers as he holds your thigh. Joel is a great driver; he steers so easily, one palm sliding smoothly over the wheel, his eyes alert and his speed under control. It’s a little sexy, and it makes you antsy from where you sit on the bench. Sure, there are chores to do and there’s dinner to make, but it’s getting harder to push your innate needs to the back of your mind. You don't know if you can wait all day to get him inside you.

“Names,” he says. “Got lots of ideas.”

“Yeah? Fire away.”

“Well, I like Eleanor. Good, strong, classic name, y’know? Little wordy, maybe. Then there's Mary, Marie, Hannah, and I can tell you don't like any of ‘em,” he finishes with a laugh, squeezing your thigh. Your silence has always been a tell.

“They're very sweet names,” you concede, “but they don't feel like my baby.”

Joel’s hand slides up to your belly and warms you beneath your dress. “Maybe we’ll feel it,” he says, “when we make her.”

“Think it’ll happen on the first try?” you wonder aloud, watching the scenery whiz by outside. It's a sunny, temperate day for Austin. You think about taking your baby for a walk, lounging lazily in a stroller while you say words that fall on deaf ears, but will resonate in due time nonetheless. You think about a little girl that will cling hard to her daddy’s leg when she gets scared of the storms outside, the way you did when you were little. You think about long nights shushing your sweet baby girl to sleep, about those same nights spent nestled into Joel’s body, the three of you dozing idly on the sofa. A unit.

“If it doesn’t, I’ll just have to try again.” You watch his fingers creep back down between your legs and snap the waistband of your panties.

You smack his hand. “If you keep playin’, Mr. Miller, you're gonna have to take me right here, in this truck. You want to give your wife a bad back?”

Joel grunts, patting your thigh. “Dirty play.��

“That's what I thought.”

Back at home, Joel vacuums the house while you manage, some-fuckin’-how, to convince him to let you do the laundry. He fishes debris and runoff out of the eavestrough, then gets down on his bad knees to tighten the plumbing underneath the sink.

“Let me help, sweetie. At least hand you a wrench or something. You'll hurt your back again.”

“I got it,” he grunts from under the sink. “Just a loose pipe. I’m peachy.”

You just sigh and let him carry on, the stubborn bastard. When he stands, the job done, he lifts the hem of his shirt to wipe the sweat off his forehead, and you get a generous glimpse of his belly, the trail of dark hair directing your gaze down, down—

“Joel?” you squeak, wringing your hands together.

He drops the shirt back over his abdomen and steps closer. “Yeah, baby?”

“Are you, um… Are you hungry?”

He understands the particular glint in your eye, the telltale widening of your pupils, the hollow of your throat dipping as you swallow, your lashes fluttering gently. Blood surges down to his cock and it begins to fill out his jeans at the thought of taking what he's waited for all day. “No,” he says, licking his bottom lip. You eye every minute movement with meticulous precision. “Think dinner can wait.”

“I was thinking the same thing,” you say, crowding him and tugging at the hem of his shirt. He watches you prowl slowly toward him, gaze locked to the heady pull of your eyes. His cock twitches with a vested interest in the body now pressed up against him. Joel cannot look away from the siren now calling him to sea.

“That so?” he rasps, bunching the fabric of your dress so it rides up your hip and gives him a good look at your panties. “You dressed up all pretty today. For me?”

You're as coy as a flirtatious schoolgirl, trailing your fingers up and down his muscled bicep. “Always for you.”

“That’s right, baby. You like me lots, don't you?”

“Mmm, I do,” you purr, your hand sliding up his abdomen to his chest, admiring the hard planes of his strong body. “So handsome, strong, generous…” You get lost in your exploration, eyes dipping to his throat, your lips instinctively seeking the delectable vein that pulses with every beat of his heart. “Such a good man. Gonna be such a good daddy.”

Joel’s breath shudders out of him when he feels your soft, warm mouth on his neck, indulging in the taste of him. “Jesus,” he croaks, gripping your hips hard. “Jesus, honey, you gotta go easy on me. Lemme take it slow—”

—or I swear to God, I’ll blow a load in my jeans.

“You wanna undress me?” you say, like a real fucking tease, pulling away and tugging playfully at the straps of your dress. Joel’s nostrils flare, and he’s walking you back into the wall, cupping the back of your head to protect it, and slanting his mouth over yours.

He’s salty with the sweat that drips from his temples and he still smells of fresh-cut grass. He’s all Joel, all yours, the first gulp of air you breathe in when you wake and the last sigh you exhale before you sleep.

You moan into his mouth as he parts your lips and dips his tongue between them to taste yours. You taste like mint and coffee and he clutches you tighter, wrinkling the fabric of your pretty little dress in his fist. The sunlight filters through the windows, intrusive, bleeding into the moment as if taking a snapshot. Joel kisses you so deeply that your throat feels stained with the gasps of breath you exchange.

You're sweet enough that it makes him ache, bending your back to fit you to him, craving more. Closeness is not enough—he needs possession.

Joel’s kisses are bruising, unforgiving, merciless, but they are also slow, careful. He isn't sloppy; he does precisely what must be done to get you riled. And when he breaks away, his forehead resting against yours, you tug his hair with a pitiful whine.

“I wasn't done,” you tell him.

Joel pouts, mocking. Fingers pull at the straps of your dress until you're watching it pool at your feet. His big hands find your tits immediately, squeezing out all his frustrations, tweaking your nipples and lowering his mouth to your throat.

Your fingers curl into his hair, glueing him to you while he marks your throat, sucking blood to the surface, retribution for the hickeys all over his chest. His warm palms explore your tits the way he likes, and you curve into him, giving him all the access he wants. “Joel, honey—”

Your voice is nectar, warmth from a fire on the Fourth of July, the stomach-cramping laughter around the flame. Joel groans, blindly searching for your hand with his face still nuzzled in your throat, sucking a particularly aggressive bruise that you’ll scold him for later. But he threads his fingers through yours and feels the cool kiss of your twin wedding bands, and your sweet, wispy sighs have him grinding absently against your thigh. You don't have half the mind to get mad at him for a goddamn thing.

He pulls away with a great yank of his self-restraint, still holding your hand. “C’mon, baby.”

You follow dutifully, staring up at your husband with the same moony eyes you gave him on your wedding day. The third stair creaks a bit, the way it always does. The bedroom door is first on the left, and it's a good fucking thing, because Joel can't wait any longer.

He walks you to the edge of the bed, stalking, a predator on prey, focused solely on his task. “Goddamn beautiful,” he says to himself, scanning your mostly-naked body and feeling his eyes droop in arousal.

“Think so?” Your hand drops between your bodies and palms his erection over his jeans. “Yeah, you really think so.”

His nostrils flare. “Sit.”

You lower yourself onto the mattress, primly placing your hands on your thighs and straightening your spine. Joel hums appreciatively, approaching you and slotting himself between your legs. There's a dark wet spot pooling in your panties. “Sweet thing. So needy all fuckin’ day.”

“So were you” is your retort, packing little punch due to the way you push your tits toward him like a fucking whore.

Joel presses his big, warm hand to your sternum. “Remember what you said to me the first time I got you in bed?”

“‘Let’s go again’?”

“The other thing.”

“'Let me suck your dick’?”

“Try again, baby.”

“‘Wrong hole’?”

Joel snorts, shaking his head. “Goddamn smartass,” he mutters. “Told me you wanted me from that first night. Told me you woulda let me fuck you against that bathroom mirror.”

His hand begins to move, rolling your nipple between his fingers like a cigarette, playing with you the way he likes. “Said you’d let me do whatever I wanted,” Joel says quietly, not meeting your eyes, transfixed by the way your body seeks the touch he gives you. “That still true?”

“I meant it then, and I mean it now,” you tell him, pulling your lip between your teeth. “I’m yours, Joel Miller.”

He tilts his head slightly, satisfied. “You got somethin’ you wanna ask me?”

You hook a finger in his belt loop. “Can you get naked now?”

He laughs, guiding your hand to the buckle on his belt. “Go on. Do what you wanna do, baby.”

He belongs to you. He’s yours to mould the way you want.

Your fingers do away with his belt, whipping it out of the loops and hanging it around your neck. Joel’s hands flex at his sides as you toy with the hem of his shirt, bringing it slowly up his torso with your palms flat to his tanned skin.

You imagine you're sculpting him like clay, bringing your hands over the contours and admiring the work when all is done. It’s the artist’s pride of finishing the work and none of the self-reproach when something comes out wrong, because it’s Joel, and wrong becomes negligible.

You bring the shirt over his head with his assistance, lifting his arms for you, tossing the thing aside with little care. His eyes haven't once wavered from you. Next are his jeans, the scrape of his zipper and the delectable anticipation of hooking your fingers in the waistband and guiding them slowly down his hips.

His cock springs forward, thick and heavy and so hard it must ache, as you shuck his jeans down with his boxers. He grunts above you, his cock bobbing at the sight of your pretty lips parting. But you don’t take him into your mouth. You grasp the base of his cock and gently nuzzle your cheek against his length. Something like a strangled whimper leaves his throat.

“Baby,” he chokes.

“Yes, honey?” you say sweetly, looking up at him through your lashes.

“Jesus,” he says through his teeth. “You’re so fuckin' sexy. Fuck.”

You hum, slowly stroking your hand up and down as your tongue darts out to lick his balls. Joel’s hips stutter, his hand flying out to catch himself on the bedpost. “Goddamn. Jesus—”

Your coy smile knocks him askew, your lips pursing as you spit on the head of his cock, spreading your own saliva around the tip with your thumb. “I just wanna thank you”—a soft kiss to the tip has a rumbling groan crawling out of his throat—“for everything you do for me. I just want you to know how much I love you.”

Joel exhales hard, struggling to remember how breathing works when he's got his wife playing with his cock like it's your favourite toy. “How much do you love me?” he demands.

You wrap your fingers around the head of his cock and twist your hand up and down his shaft in a couple slow strokes. You're driving him fucking crazy. His vision is whiting out.

“I love you,” you purr, licking a broad stripe up the underside of his length. Joel’s chest is heaving with the effort of holding back. “Love you so much. Love you enough to make you a daddy.”

Joel caves, threading his fingers through your hair at the nape of your neck and stroking his thumb along your jaw. “Fuck, baby. Please…”

“Do you love me?” Batting your lashes, you scatter measured kisses from his tip to the base, teasingly licking his balls.

“Christ, I—” His hips jut forward instinctively. “I love you. Fuckin’ love you, baby.”

You flick your tongue against his slit and relish his groan, revelling in the sight of his flushed chest, his pink cheeks, the sweat on his brow. His jaw is tense, his nostrils flaring. He’s trying not to take control.

You slap his cock twice on your tongue and finally take it past your lips, sealing your mouth over the head. Joel moans, white-knuckling the bedpost, his other hand now stroking your hair. You fondle his balls in your free hand while the other grips him at the base, and he’s going to come embarrassingly soon if you keep looking up at him this way.

Your tongue swirls around the head of his cock while your lips seal tight, greedily suckling at his tip. Oversensitive, skin prickling with salty sweat, Joel practically breathes through his teeth. “Gonna kill me,” he manages. “You’re gonna kill me, honey.”

“Mmmm,” you reply, happily taking him deeper, his length sliding along the warm wetness of your tongue. Joel’s fingers tighten in your hair.

“Fuuuuck. You love this cock.”

“Mmmhmm.”

“Love takin' me into your mouth like a little slut.”

“Mmmmph,” you agree, pushing your tits out.

His hand drifts down to the belt hanging around your neck and he wraps his fist around both ends, tugging so you’re forced to take him deeper. You splutter, breathing hard through your nose, your arousal dripping onto the mattress.

The sloppy sounds of your mouth working his cock send his head spinning. Drool dribbles from the corners of your lips, your eyes squeezing black tears from dewy lashes. And when you take him down your throat, the sound of your choked moan leaves Joel with little choice but to pull out before he comes.

You whine, squeezing your thighs together. He swipes his thumb underneath your eye and shows you the black smudge from your mascara. “Doesn't take much to get you cryin’. You like me that much?”

You bite your bottom lip and beam up at him. “Did I do okay?”

Your faux-innocence makes his dick twitch in your face, and you flick your tongue out to lick at the tip once more. Joel grunts, grasping his belt and tossing it away.

“‘Did I do okay,’” he murmurs, tweaking your nipple between his fingers. “Got no idea after all these years. No idea what you do to me.”

“I just wanna take care of my man. He works so hard, you know, keeping me safe and happy.” You run your hand over his soft belly, the trail of hair that leads down to his cock. “He’s always liked to give me things.”

Joel backs you farther up the bed and crawls over your body, lowering his head to bury his face in your throat. You smell fresh and sweet as vanilla, and when he playfully bites into your skin, your saplike laugh has him grinding helplessly against your thigh.

He loves to give—always has. It’s all he knows. It took a long while for you to get him to unlearn some of his blind selflessness, to let you take control sometimes and care for him instead. Your Joel provides; he does not take. And the prospect of getting to give his wife a baby is turning him to putty in your hands. By the time he gets to work, he’ll be dead-set on his task, hard-pressed to pull out of you. He’ll want to get the job done on his first try, refusing to see you upset if the test comes back negative, but the id will still scratch and claw for another chance to fill you up.

Joel sucks a hickey into your neck and soothes the mark with his tongue, the slow, soft pleasure compounded by the way his warm body covers you, your fingers carding through his locks.

Your voice oozes, honeyed, down his spine. “I love you, Joel.”

He squeezes his eyes shut and crushes his nose in your throat, his hand smoothing down your hair. “I love you.”

“You want to make a baby?”

He rears back slightly, his nose bumping against yours. “Yeah. I really fuckin’ do.”

You grin, lacing your fingers together at the back of his neck. “Will you fuck me? Please?”

Joel brushes his thumb across your chin. “Use your words.”

“I want to be a mom, Joel.” You give him a long, gooey stare, eyes warm and soft as running water. A look like that will make a man give you the goddamn galaxy.

He nods, pressing a soft kiss to your mouth. “I know, baby. I’ll help you. Hands and knees, now.”

The gentle direction moulds your body to the shape of the words. You go easily, your back arching as you rest your weight on your forearms and spread your thighs. The bed dips behind you as Joel settles in, his hands grasping your ass and making you jump.

Your body trembles with excitement. You’re going to be a mom. He's going to get you pregnant. You feel dizzy, bending deeper at the hips and shaking your ass at him, deluded with your own arousal.

But Joel doesn't fuck you right away. No, he bumps up against the backs of your thighs, warm hands branding your skin, and rubs two fingers over the wet spot darkening your panties.

“I do this to you?” he says smugly.

“You know damn well—”

“Wanna hear you say it.” The no-nonsense command triggers a submissive response. “Who did this to you?”

Your body melts against him, presenting your pussy to him like a needy whore. “You, Joel. It’s you, baby. Only you.”

Your babbling makes him squeeze handfuls of your ass, spreading your asscheeks apart to get a good glimpse of the way your pussy drools into your panties. Shuffling backward and lowering himself to his knees on the floor, Joel’s tongue darts out and licks you through your underwear.

“Ohh, fuck!” you gasp. “Joel…”

He hums, tasting your tang through the fabric and finding your puffy clit, sucking gently. You cry out, your fingers grasping the sheets, and Joel moves your panties aside to slather his spit all over your dripping pussy. The languorous movements of his tongue are indulgent, achingly slow; he loves the taste of you as much as you enjoy having his mouth on your cunt.

“Oh my God, Joel… fuck, honey, please—!”

Your thighs are trembling as you struggle to hold yourself up, the strokes of his tongue turning your muscles to soup. He stops to take your panties off, guiding them off your legs, and by now, you're so wet that your juices glisten halfway down your thighs. Joel dives back in and licks up the rivulets of arousal from your skin, all the way back up to your weeping hole.

“So goddamn sweet,” he grumbles, kneading your ass in his hands as he flicks his tongue over your clit a few more times.

“Joel, I’m…” You’re drooling, grinding pathetically into his face, already close to an orgasm, and he isn't fucking letting up.

He wants you as wet and needy as possible, his own cock leaking onto the bedsheets at the prospect of sliding into your creamy pussy.

Your cheeks burn and your muscles lock as Joel makes out with your pussy, his tongue laving over your pearl in slow, aching circles. He drowns in the pleasure of making you feel good. He soaks himself in kerosene and lights the match.

“Oh, fuck!” Your thighs shake around his head and your toes curl, ears ringing with the force of your high. Grasping feebly at the bedsheets, you try not to list, but Joel isn’t fucking stopping, cleaning you up with his tongue like you're a piece of goddamn pie.

His fingers dig into your ass, rapacious as his mouth, and you climb high to a space that transcends the sky, feeling nothing but the linen underneath and the man above, softly kissing your poor, used clit.

He doesn’t let up until you reach back and gently shove his head away, grasping his damp curls. “Baby, let me rest,” you gasp, “just for a second.”

Regretfully, he pulls away, pressing a kiss to each knob of your spine, dragging his nose up your back. “‘m so fuckin’ lucky,” he murmurs against your skin.

“Lucky you didn’t kill me.” You laugh breathlessly, your hips already sore from keeping your ass in the air.

“Makin’ sure you’re ready,” he says innocently, sliding his thick fingers through your slit. You gasp, trying to escape his grasp despite yourself. He just clicks his tongue in reproach. “Nuh-uh, baby. You're gonna stay right here, let me make it good for you. Hmm? Wanna feel good?”

You nod your head frantically. “Yeah, yeah, I do. Wanna be good.”

“Mmm, now, you know that ain't your job tonight,” he says in a mock scold. In the meantime, his fingers soak themselves in your wetness. “Don't think you're ready for me yet.”

“No! No, I’m ready,” you pant, grinding against his erection. Joel grunts, holding your hip in place. “Baby, please, I’m ready for you. Need you so badly.”

“Shhh, sweetheart. I'll give you what you need. Just be patient.” Hands smooth over your ass, between your thighs, and then two fingers are teasing your hole. Joel tilts his head to watch the way he spreads your folds wide. “Gonna fill this up.”

A strangled noise spills from your mouth, your cheeks burning hot at the way he exposes you so tenderly. “Please,” you croak, hiding your face in the crook of your elbow.

He grasps himself and teases the already-wet head of his cock over your pussy, spurting precum onto your hole. “You want a baby?” he asks, low and dark. You luxuriate in the velvet-soft tone. “Tell me what you want.”

“I want a baby,” you whisper, “please. Please give me a baby.”

He readies himself at your tight cunt and the excitement briefly overcomes him, forcing his hips forward and pushing past the wet, gummy seal of your pussy. You gasp, held in place by his hand on your hip.

“What. Do. You. Want?”

“I want to make you a daddy!” you sob. “I want to have your baby and make you a daddy.”

“You want to be a momma?” he says through his teeth, tunnel vision narrowing his focus to the way he slowly guides himself into you, wrenching you open. At this angle, with how wet you are, the glide is delicious, white-hot, his balls heavy with the need to empty inside you. “That it? Want everyone to know who put a fuckin’ baby in you?”

Your husband is so fucking big, so strong, and the way he pins your body down feels close to primal. “Yes! Yes, Daddy, yes! I want to be a momma. Please give me a baby.”

The words put a chisel to his self-restraint and crack down. He’s gone, baring his teeth, pulling your hips toward him and impaling you on his cock, relishing the give of your tight walls and the way he sits snug against your cervix. You mewl, reaching back to find a purchase on his hip. “Joel, fuck…”

He establishes a punishing pace, driving your body farther up the bed with every thrust. “That’s it,” he groans, sliding his palm up your spine. “Gonna look so goddamn beautiful with a baby in you. You were fuckin’ made to take this cock.”

Your moan is syrupy and pitched low, your cheek buried in the mattress, letting him fill you up again, again, again—

“I’ll get you fuckin’ pregnant,” continues Joel, panting through his words, sweat beading on his brow as he runs his hands over your skin. “Stuff you so goddamn full you'll always feel me.”

“Uhhh!” you moan, fisting the sheets, your body practically folded in half to accommodate your husband’s huge body, his thick cock.

Joel wants this, too—has for a long time. It’s hard not to notice the little details. He places his hand on your belly when he isn't even paying attention, his lips finding the soft skin there when he first wakes in the morning. You knew he would have dropped everything to give you a baby the second you demanded it, but you realise you may have underestimated his need.

Joel is growling like a dog, sweat dripping from his temples and back pinching with effort as he holds your body close, glueing you to him, his cock reaching deep, deliberate, mind going numb, intent the only tangible feeling he can grasp onto. Intent and the white-hot drag of his cock against your walls.

You’re going to grow swollen and round with his baby. He will watch your tits grow heavy, your belly bulge, your cheeks take on a ruddy, dewy glow, the telltale mark of his success, his devotion. He’ll wake up every morning wrapped in the scent of your body, your hormones, his palm finding sanctuary on your soft, warm belly. He’ll bury his face in your throat and you’ll smile and the sun will warm the golden spot where a new life grows.

Fuck, he’ll never let you do laundry again. You could hurt your back.

Your head spins at the wet slap of his balls against your clit, the obscene squelch of your pussy around his impressive length, the way he grabs at you. He’s greedy, hands mapping each rib, each vertebrae, every curve and contour that makes you.

Your pussy sucks him in, just as needy, breathless moans and squeals punching out of your throat as you croak out pleas: Joel, baby, please. I want a baby so badly. Wanna have your baby. Please, please, fill me up! And Joel listens, his palm sliding around your waist and down your belly, rubbing your sensitive clit with two fingers.

A real man gives his wife everything she wants.

He moans at the feeling of your cunt squeezing him, his fingers wet and insistent against your little clit, coaxing you toward your climax. “C’mon,” he grunts, “come for me, baby. Fuckin’ choke me. Wanna feel it. Come and I’ll give you the baby you want so goddamn bad. C’mon, baby.”

His words seep into your bloodstream, an uncontrollable tremor racking your body, your arms giving out as he bends over you and sinks his teeth into your shoulder. “Ohhhh, God! Oh my—!”

Joel’s hands squeeze your tits, his entire body covering yours, a warm, protective blanket, slick with sweat and heart thundering against your back. His lips are on your skin, feverishly kissing and nipping. You can’t breathe, can’t move, and it feels so fucking good. You soak his cock, muscles seizing, pinned down by his strong body.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he groans. “That’s it, baby. Goddamn, keep on squeezin’ me like that. Not gonna leave this tight pussy until you're fuckin’ pregnant.”

“Joelllll,” you whine, your orgasm prolonged by his words, his unrelenting thrusts, the jolt of his balls slapping your clit. “Want it so bad. Wanna give you a baby. Come inside me, please. Please give me your cum, oh, God—”

The broken sound of your voice, weak and raspy, goes straight to his dick, and his balls are pulling up, his head bombarded with the smell of sex, perfume, linen, you. He rests his forehead between your shoulder blades as you milk his cock, turning his thrusts sloppy and desperate. He needs to come. He needs to make it real.

Your orgasm leaves you pliant and loose in his arms, and he fondles your tits, squeezing them hard in his hands as he pictures them growing, swelling heavy with milk he’ll feed your baby. His baby. Idly, you moan, letting him use your body to get off, his teeth grazing your neck.

“Gonna come. Gonna fuckin’ fill you up, give you a baby. Gonna—Jesus, goddamn—”

Maybe it's the pent-up frustration of not having come all day. Maybe it's a renewed sense of purpose, knowing he's got a job to do, keeping every drop safe inside you. Maybe it's the sheer fucking excitement of getting to give his wife what he's wanted to put in you for so long. But when he comes, hips flush to your ass, he comes so much, for so long, that the rapid rush of blood from his cock back up to his head has him nearly keeling.

Kissing your cervix, the head of his cock spurts rope after rope of hot cum inside you, and you mewl, your back arching to deepen the angle, luxuriate in the liquid warmth. Joel isn’t so loud now, not so cocky. He’s reduced to strained groans and whimpers as your body depletes him, greedily taking every drop of cum he has to offer.

It feels like minutes before it finally stops, but with your ass up in the air, none of his cum spills out. Your hips are sore, your ass bruises from his hands, your tits still sitting warmly in his hands. The cool kiss of his wedding band soothes the too-hot press of his body on top of yours, your doubly-slick skin meeting indecently. His lips are on the back of your neck and he thrusts shallowly, wringing the last of his cum from the tip until he's wholly empty and bordering on oversensitive.

You're the first to speak, your throat clogged with drool and some of your own tears.

“Thank fuck I was at the bar that night.”

Joel’s laugh scrapes down your spine along with his beard as he drags himself upright, knowing he’s crushing you. “Never would've had to patch me up”

“Mmm, you're sexy when you're mad,” you point out, your thighs twitching as he carefully guides you onto your side, back to his chest, his cock still acting as a plug for his cum. You’re deliciously full, and you hum happily at the feeling of his warm belly against you, his big arms cradling you close.

“Shouldn't enable violence,” he grumbles. His lashes flutter against your shoulder.

You roll your eyes. “Oh, please.”

He chuckles. “You feel okay?”

“I feel good,” you muse, running your fingers along his forearm, the prominent veins under his skin. “I feel excited.”

His grin curves against your skin, the scratch of his moustache sending a shiver up your spine. Outside, the sun begins to dip, and your twin golden rings glimmer in the fiery light.

“Me, too,” he whispers, and you lace your fingers through his, squeezing, both of you practically giddy.

There’s a lull, and for a moment, you think he’s fallen asleep. The sun creeps behind a home across the street, and its watch ends for another day.

“Hey, Joel?”

His mouth meets your throat in a sleepy kiss. “Yeah, baby?”

“I like the name Sarah.”

THE END.

tags: @cavillscurls @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @cupofjoel @northernbluess @tieronecrush @joelmillers-whore @bastardmandennis - thank you all so so much for showing excitement for this fic!! kisses for you all 🫶

#kiwisbell's fics #pedro pascal #joel miller #joel miller x reader #the last of us #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fluff #joel miller fanfiction #pre outbreak!joel #joel miller x you #joel miller x female reader

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thegnomelord · 4 months

Note

this isn’t a request but you’re the only writer i know who writes the monster!au so

dragon!reader and dragon!price are haunting my thoughts. dragons usually have to hold themselves back when sparring because they’re so much stronger than other monsters but with price & reader they don’t need to, to the point where the other members of the 141 are kinda wondering if they need to intervene.

what they do or don’t know is this is you and price courting, testing each other’s strength to assess whether you’re suitable mates. once you have decided you’re suitable it continues in the bedroom, fighting for dominance and testing each other’s stamina as price rides you or you pin price down and see if he can take all the strength behind your thrusts.

OH god I LOVE the way you think! I know @rodolfoparras also did a dragon price some time ago but I'm happy to let my monsterfucker out lol :D I'll consider this a spitball thingy but GOD DAMN did my hyperfixation hyperfixate on this :Ddd kinda rushed at the end but it's 3AM :/

CW:NSFW

What about if dragons measure not just raw strength, but all other aspects as well? They're prideful by nature and with so little of them remaining no self-respecting dragon will settle for a witless brute or a powerless scribe.

Price had lost hope in finding a mate centuries ago because he's even pickier than most of his kin; in his view, a proper one needs to be strong enough to completely pin him down, needs to be smart enough to see the insults in his honeyed words and give back as good as he does, needs to be clever enough to lead men as good as he does.

A proper mate needs to keep up with him on all levels.

And for a dragon of his age, that's an unachievable set of criteria. Oh sure, many of the dragons he's met over the years have tried to match him, but all fell short, leaving him lonely and unsatisfied.

Then he met you, a fellow Captain, a fellow dragon. Though only a few centuries younger than him, you're a wyrmling in his eyes, your scales like shining metal compared to his muddled gemstones. An arrogant wyrmling if the way you peacock for him the first time you enter the training room has anything to say about it— your wings spreading out and muscles rippling, back straightening out to make you taller, scales glinting in the artificial light; little details that anyone else can brush off as a simple stretch but to a dragon it screams of your interest in him.

His slitted eyes roam across your body, both equal parts disdain and curiosity. "Got somethin' ta say there boy?" His words are rough like sandpaper.

"No, no." You hum as you get into the ring, every little movement purposely done to showcase your hard earned musculature. "Just that you should skip out on this fight. Wouldn't want you to throw your back out old man."

"Old man huh?" His eyes blaze with the same fire at the end of his cigar, your words igniting something in his chest that had long been extinguished. "I'll show you old."

And suddenly he's in the ring, both of you trading blow for blow with the same savagery your progenitors had frightened mankind with for millennia, your claws leaving deep grooves in the concrete when you miss his side, his tail smashing a portion of the ground into dust when you avoid it, the ground between you cracking when you try to push the other away, loose scales and dust and debris littering the ground as you and Price wrestle on the ground.

Both of your teams watch from the sidelines, your team calming the other members of TF141 that this is just how dragons are, pointedly ignoring your victorious snarl when you pin Price down to the ground, your clawed hand harshly pushing his face into the concrete to the point you might break his nose as you bite the back of his neck, forcing him to submit. "I win,"

"Not fer long." He snarls back just as deep, feeling alive for the first time in who knows how long. "Best two out of three." And with that he jerks, remaining wing slamming into your side and knocking you off balance long enough for him to fling you into the wall opposite of him.

You don't know how many rounds you go before you're forced to stop by a very pissed off Laswell, who also pointedly ignores the obvious bulges in what remains of both of your pants, giving both of you a stern talking to about wrecking the damn training room.

You're ready to leave after being chastised like a child but Price is quicker, passing you with a "Good fight back there." rumbling in his throat, the soft scales of his wing brushing along your jaw. Your eyes nearly pop out of your skull when you meet his gaze, and Price has a good poker face but the smoldering look in his eyes and the low grumble in his chest makes it's obvious you've peaked his curiosity.

But that's just the start, the hard part is keeping it. While regular dragons may spend time with a potential mate conversing on scholarly subjects or having philosophical debates, you and him have a more practical way of assessing the other's intellect — Battle plans.

To your teams it sounds like a harsh argument, ideas thrown around and sharp insults tacked on top, their heads ping ponging between you and Price as you look over maps, trying to one up the other. Eventually your teammates leave you to settle this on your own.

"And I'm telling you, old man," You growl, both of you so close there's barely any space between you as you point at the map. "We can push a smaller team through the forest while we lead the frontal assault, our wip's not going to have anywhere to go then." You huff, holding your head up high to make it obvious you're proud of your idea.

Price gives you the stink eye, before he scans the map again, humming to himself. After a few seconds he lets out a scoff. "We don't have enough men for that." He says, but the sharp edge in his tone is dulled. "But—" His tail moves to brush against your own, your rough scales brushing against his smoother ones. "—It has some merit."

Price doesn't draw attention to the way your tails intertwine, wrapping together like two snakes, and neither do you. But the short purr that bubbles out of your chest says everything he needs to know, growing louder when he answers with his own, your shoulders brushing together. "Aight, back to work." He cuts your purrs short, but you can't hide the pleased look on your face as your tails remain coiled together.

Then comes the actual courting dance.

One late evening spent looking over documents in the privacy of his office, your tails once again coiled beneath the desk after successfully having proved your wit to him again, absentmindedly telling embarrassing stories of your respective teams. . . Price has a revelation. You might be it. "Hey lad."

You look up, your full attention on him. "Yeah?"

With a mumbled grunt too quiet for you to hear Price slides a hand beneath his shirt and pulls a large green scale from the meat of his shoulder blade, the wound healing before it can even bleed.

Instinctively you know what this means, for knowing how a prospective mate treats an extension of you will show how they'll treat you. But you still speak up, needing proof for your own mind that you're not insane and haven't been burning the wrong tree. "What?"

Price glares at you, "Don't play dumb," He says as he slides the large scale across the table to you. "It doesn't suit you." There's an underlayer of heat in his words, blue slitted eyes looking you over in a much more appreciative light.

You can't control the big grin that spreads across your face, "Oh, then what does suit me?" You ask as you follow his lead, yanking out one of your larger scales from your own back and sliding it to him. It makes the difference between you two obvious, his green scale muddled with age compared to your shiny one.

"Arrogant muppet." The gentle way he picks up your scale clashes with his harsh words, cradling it in his hand like it'll crack at the slightest of touches, his face reflected in the surface.

You grin, "Just confident." You feel his sharp eyes judge every minute twitch of your fingers as you pick up his scale. Price's poker face hides the way his heart melts at the loving way you brush a thumb across the surface, how it throbs when you don't immediately attempt to make it shine like some whelps once did, accepting him for how he is by putting it in your breast pocket.

God, he doesn't even know how much he'd fantasized about something like this when he was still young, vestiges of a purr escaping his throat at the tender way you treat his scale. "Right." He shakes his head and places your scale in his own breast pocket, handing you another stack of papers. "Get back to work."

You grin and do as he says, wings twitching as a sign of joy, your tail squeezing down on his and receiving a squeeze in kind.

Price feels like a horny teen when he lays awake in bed late at night with your scale held between his claws. He feels stupid for feeling so giddy at the thought of having a mate, a proper mate, yet his body thinks differently. Just holding it in his hand is enough to make him grow hot, your scent still clings to the scale and Price finds himself holding it close to his nose to familiarize himself with it and Hell his body loves it, cocks growing hard in record time and his thighs wet with slick. The poor thing doesn't even know what to relieve first, his free hand constantly going between stroking his cocks and fingering himself, mind craving the heat of another dragon that he'd been deprived of.

What Price doesn't know is that you're in the same boat, biting your arm to silence yourself as you imagine it's Price you're breeding instead of a pillow, splintering the headboard from how hard you're gripping it in an attempt to not damage the scale.

Then shit hits the fan when during a routine mission you two are ambushed, and while two dragons are no easy prey for mankind, humans have long since gone from using rocks and sticks. You catch sight of a sniper's scope glint seconds before the bullet targets Price, and in only a few seconds to think you throw yourself in the way, Price's scale in your breast pocket puts enough resistance to make you survive the bullet, but you feel it crack, and that. . . that sets you off.

Price doesn't even have the time to lift his gun before you're tearing through the battlefield like a man possessed, anger burning like a volcano in your chest for trying to hurt him, elemental breath and draconic strength unleashed to it's fullest potential.

And Price? Price watches the show with that same heat burning in his belly, forced to bite his lip to silence the pleased purrs as he rubs his thighs together while you tear flesh from bone, mate flashing in his mind. Look how he protects you His mind purrs, Good mate. Perfect mate.

"I'm sorry." You whimper when you've finally calmed down, the battlefield nothing but a ruined crater and the shards of his scale held tenderly in your cupped hands. "I failed, I-"

"Come here." Price cuts you off quickly and pulls you down into a harsh and desperate kiss, all teeth and tongue and need. He parts just a fraction of an inch, "You passed." He growls and only then do you notice the sharp arousal in his scent, your animalistic hindbrain jumping for joy as you kiss back because holy shit he considers you worthy.

And now that he's found his mate? You best believe his body is going to make up for all the centuries he'd spent alone.

It doesn't even take a week for him to enter heat, waking in a daze with his twin cocks hard and his thighs glistening with slick, your scent lingering in the sheets and your side of the bed still warm. The walls almost shake from how deeply he growls when he registers that you're not next to him, just enough sense in his head to throw on a towel around his waist before angerly stomping through the halls to find you, sniffing you out like a bloodhoud.

"Bloody muppet." Price growls as he yanks you by the horns back to his room, the scent of his arousal so potent you're struck dumb, letting yourself be pushed down. Price's claws slice through your clothes, his hole so slick and eager for you he doesn't even need to stretch, just jumps onto your lap and in one fluid motion takes one of your cocks to the root. "Fuckin' finally." Price hisses, instantly setting a harsh pace of bouncing on your cock that would have had a lesser race end up with a crushed pelvis.

You grip his hips for dear life, surging up to mark his neck and shoulders with bites as he does the same, his ass clapping against your thighs. "Mate." Price moans, hole clenching around you, his cocks leaking against your stomach. "My mate." He grips your hair and pulls you into a bruising kiss, "Going to last long for me yeah?" He asks, a bit of mockery on his flushed face as he feels you cum inside him, riding you through your orgasm as the sudden onslaught of sensations frazzles the intelligent parts of your brain. "Not going to disappoint me now are you?"

Good thing dragons have really short refractory periods.

"Not a chance." You snarl and flip him over suddenly, rumbling purrs escaping your chest from the surprised sound he makes. You attempt to pin him down and he squirms out of your hold, another bout of wrestling breaking out between you that has you two tumbling off the bed and onto the ground.

"That so whelp?" Price breathes out when you manage to pin him down, your strong hand keeping his face flush with the floor. "Do you really think you can keep up?" A pleased thrill runs down his spine from the sensation of your weight bearing down on him, his knees automatically locking up to hike his ass up, tail flipping up to display his slick hole for you.

"Do you?" You counter, one hand on his head, the other pressing both of your dicks together, your two tips pressing against his ass. "You're so wet and desperate, should have just pinned you down the moment I saw you instead of courting you." With one sharp thrust you push in, a pained and elated moan tearing out of his throat at the sensation of your twin cocks spreading him wider than any toy ever could, scratching that itch he'd had for who knows how long.

The stretch and burn and pleasure muddles his mind, reduces him to low animalistic snarls and growls as he does his best to push his hips into yours. "Hurry the fuck up." Price orders, whole body shaking from the way you set a harsh pace, bashing on his prostate, your balls slapping against his own, each hard thrust pushing and pulling his face across the floor. "I'll- fuck- fall asleep."

"You sure about that?" You push your weight further on him, forcing his wing to spread out, your own partially wrapping around him, "Seems to me like-" A bit of elemental breath leaves your throat when one particularly strong thrust has his hole clamping down on you, his back arching to push his hips as close to yours as one of his cocks spews cum on the floor, "-like you're not in a place to order me around."

"You- ah-fuck-ah- wanker." His insult would be a lot more hurtful if he didn't whine like a bitch in heat, both of you devolving into primitive snarls and growls with the only thought on both of your minds being the need to fill Price with as much of your cum as you physically can.

#Spittballs with Gnome #Idk how this happened #my hyperfixation got wayyy out of hand #n my monsterfucking got out of hand #cod mw2 #gnome correspondence #x reader #trinkets from the hoard #male reader #top male reader #captain john price #john price x male reader #john price x reader #top dom reader #cod modern warfare #cod smut #cod x male reader

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gimmeurtmi · 6 months

Text

groupie — 2min

pairing: kim seungmin x fem!reader x lee minho

tags: established relationship, polyamory, rock band!au, smut!!!🔞

warnings: swearing, throuple, mxm, sex in a public setting (but they're alone), possessive!minho, he's so jealous, use of “bunny”, “bubs”, "baby," and "babe", they jokingly refer to reader as their groupie many times, talking about putting out to get famous (no one does it ofc), facials, lmk if i forgot

inspo: 2min in the rockstar teaser pics.

notes: i can't not get carried away when it's 2min. this was meant to be just smut but i guess it kinda has a bit of plot and also it was not meant to be this long. it's also filthy as shit.

{ wc: 4126}

You leaned against the old, rusty sink, waiting patiently for your boyfriends to finish whatever they were getting up to.

There was a constant bloop noise, as other than rusty the sink was also leaking despite your attempts to fully shut the stream off.

As soon as they finished their set you rushed towards the most secluded place you could find. There was a toilet at the very edge of the backstage area of the venue with a sign that read “out of order”. The sign itself was so old that the marker used to write the words out was already starting to fade, a light layer of dust turning the white page to an unattractive beige.

Minho texted you just before he walked on stage, saying that he needed you. You told him where you were as soon as you settled.

After a few minutes the door opened slowly, creaking loudly and echoing horribly against the stained walls of the toilets.

“Why here?” Minho asked, planting a small kiss in your hair.

“Having sex in your dressing room stresses me out,” you rolled your eyes, “I can’t have fun when I keep feeling like we’re gonna get caught.”

“So you’d rather have sex in what is clearly a drug den?” He chuckled, wiping his hands against the counter where a few white specks were scattered around.

“No one’s gonna come in here though,” you reasoned.

“Unless you wanna wait until we go home?” Minho asked softly, his eyes sparkling at you.

You shook your head quickly. “When is Seungmin gonna finish, do you think?”

“Probably not for another hour,” Minho clicked his tongue, “some guys came backstage and started kissing his ass.”

You chuckled, “shouldn’t we go save him then?”

“No,” Minho shook his head, “they’re producers.”

You let out a small gasp, eyebrows high. “So why aren’t we there making him look better?”

“Because I’ve been hard through the whole set and I need your help,” he whined, snaking his hands around your waist.

You giggled at him before planting a comforting kiss to his forehead. “You did really well either way, didn’t even notice it.”

It was true, Minho did a wonderful job during their performance and luckily for him, being a drummer meant no one in the audience could see the problem he evidently had.

“I fucking hate him, by the way,” Minho mumbled as he buried his head into your neck. He planted small kisses on your skin, rubbing his palms around your back.

“Let me guess,” you sighed, “he left you high and dry seconds before you guys went on stage?”

“How did you know?”

“He looked especially smug,” you giggled, smiling widely at Minho’s annoyed expression.

“Help me,” Minho whined again.

“Why am I being made to clean his mess?” You exclaimed with a chuckle.

“Because,” he whined. You shook your head, chuckling at his antics.

It’s not that you didn’t want to help him with his problem, it was the only thing you were thinking about as you watched their performance. Minho was incredibly attractive when he played his drums, even more so with his new black hair—long enough to cover his eyes. The black eyeshadow you helped him put on before the show looked beautiful behind his bangs.

Now his eye makeup was slightly smudged from the sweat and the warm bright lights he was under. It made his eyes look darker somehow, more dangerous, even if he was whining at you like the sensitive person he actually is. But only you and Seungmin knew that side of him—everyone else thought he was another asshole wanna be rockstar like so many others were.

Minho leaned in to press his lips against yours softly, rubbing his thumb against your cheek lightly. “You’re staring, bunny.”

“Just admiring how well I did your makeup tonight,” you say, voice too thin to be at all believable.

“You wanna suck my dick so bad,” Minho chuckled, leaning in to kiss you with far more intent than before.

You didn’t answer, because that would mean pulling away from the kiss—and that’s the last thing you wanted. You grabbed onto his oversized shirt, pulling him even closer to you as your tongues clashed noisily.

He squeezed your hips tightly before he backed you up into the counter quickly, the pair of you stumbling as you climbed onto the solid surface with Minho’s blind help.

He didn’t pull away from the kiss once, sucking and nibbling at your bottom lip while his hand buried in your hair.

He didn’t waste any more time, bringing his hand between your bodies to softly rub against your clothed core. You mirrored his actions, rubbing him through his dark jeans.

In pure desperation, the pair of you started moaning loudly at the rush of pleasure.

As soon as you started playing with his zipper Minho pulled away, enough to fish for the condom he shoved into his pocket earlier that day. He asked you to hold onto it as he quickly shoved his jeans down—a small clatter noise following his action as his drumsticks fell out of his back pocket and onto to the floor.

You jumped off the counter, rushing to pull your own pants down. Minho rubbed your hips softly, kissing you quickly before he flipped you around—his dick rubbing against your ass as he pulled your back flat against his chest.

“You don’t need any prep?” He kisses your shoulder.

“Had too much time on my hands in the morning,” you chuckled.

Minho rolled his eyes at you with a soft smile sitting on his fond face. He eagerly grabbed the condom from you, throwing the wrapper to the floor as he quickly rolled it onto his dick.

He didn’t waste any time as soon as you gave him a reassuring nod, sinking all the way inside you.

Although you did use your toy in the morning, enough time has passed since then. Minho was stretching you fully, the sting slightly uncomfortable as he started to move.

He could notice, given the lack of your usual loud moaning, and so he made sure to distract you from it by sucking onto your neck.

The sensation paired with his hands digging into the flesh of your ass was enough to add to the wetness in your core—helping Minho to slide in and out of you with much more ease.

Soon your moans started echoing against the horrible acoustics of the toilets, mixing in with the sound of skin slapping against skin, and the big zippers on either of Minho’s pant leg dragging against the floor.

You gripped onto the counter, hard, relaxing against Minho’s hold as he slammed your bodies together.

“More, Min, please,” you whimpered, as the pleasure started building inside your stomach.

You knew he was needy from his text, and then you knew it again when you watched him play his drums with so much energy. And now, with his thrusts fast and unrelenting–you were sure nothing could make him stop until he was satisfied. And you were happy to be the person to satisfy him.

He held onto your hip bones tightly, using his grip to move you against his body, and so he told you to start rubbing your clit for him.

You brought a hand between your legs, trying your best to concentrate as Minho moved your body around quite roughly.

Then a loud creak made you yelp, the door opening slowly.

You jumped into Minho’s arms–him doing his best to shield you from the unwanted guest. Until the guest said, “sorry, sorry! It’s me!”

You both let out a sigh of relief as Seungmin walked up to the pair of you.

He planted a kiss on Minho’s lips before giving you a kiss as well, smiling softly.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he apologised, “I honestly didn’t think you’d be at it already.”

“Ran out of patience,” Minho grumbled. Noticing you were still tense around him, he rubbed your stomach softly, waiting until your body relaxed into him again.

“I wonder why,” Seungmin hummed, as if in deep thought.

“Fuck you,” Minho narrowed his eyes at him.

“Would you, hyung?” Seungmin grinned, wrapping his finger around Minho’s necklace before he tugged on it.

Minho stumbled into him, holding onto you with one hand as the other went to Seungmin’s shoulder to keep his balance.

“I’m in the middle of something,” Minho said, voice low. You could still hear him loudly, his voice jumping against the walls harshly.

“Yeah, I can see,” Seungmin laughed, bringing a hand to your hair as he rubbed his fingers against your scalp. “Thought you were my groupie.”

You chuckled at his pout, rolling your eyes at him. “Drummers do it better.”

Minho laughed at that, pushing into your softly. You almost forgot the two of you were still connected, but you supposed his renewed movement was meant to be some sort of reward for your remark. Truthfully, Minho was just waiting for you to feel comfortable again–and being a little shit to Seungmin was your ultimate comfort zone.

“And here I thought being the lead singer of a failing rock band would get me all the groupies I could ever want,” Seungmin sighed longingly.

“Heard you’re not failing anymore,” you patted his shoulder, “why aren’t you jerking off a producer somewhere?”

“Oh god,” Seungmin said, eyes wide, “they were all so hot.”

At that, Minho slammed into you roughly. Seungmin chuckled at your surprised groan before he jumped onto the counter. He grabbed your arms, manoeuvring you to stand right in front of him and lean your hands on his thighs.

He sunk his fingers into your hair again, scratching your scalp lightly. It was a big contrast to Minho’s rough thrusts, and you couldn’t understand which sensation your body was focused on. You let it overwhelm you either way.

“There were three of them,” he explained in a soft voice as Minho kept fucking into you, “they said they’d love to speak to our manager so I panicked and gave them Jeongin’s number. I didn’t want them to think we were massive rookies that don’t even have a manager.”

“But… you don’t,” you said, breathlessly.

“Sure, but I didn’t want Mr. Chan to think that. I also think he was flirting with me,” Seungmin rambled on. He wasn’t usually one to talk so much, the only exception being the few hours after they came off stage. The adrenaline always made him chatty, which neither of you minded usually.

But Minho was a jealous person.

“Oh, flirting with you, was he?” He said through clenched teeth.

“I think so,” Seungmin simply nodded, “and one of the other ones kept asking about you. Think he has a thing for drummers, too.”

He meant that last part at you, and you chuckled softly.

“So I think it can be a group effort,” he suggested, bringing his thumb to your cheek in a soft caress, “I’ll take that Chan guy, Minho can take the chatty one, and you can have the third one. His muscles looked amazing.”

“Wait, what?” You asked, hoping Minho didn’t notice you clenching. You didn’t know what these guys looked like, nor did you really care to partake in what Seungmin was talking about–but the way he said it so casually caused something to light up in your stomach.

“You know,” Seungmin gestured to the air, “fucking producers to get famous? It’s in all the rockstar handbooks.”

You laughed, but Minho stayed silent. In fact, he stopped moving entirely. He tapped your back slightly, an unconscious act he always did before he pulled out. So you knew to expect it, but it still surprised you when it happened.

You quickly turned around to face him, watching as he pulled the condom off and got dressed. Confused about what was going on, you did the same. You leaned against Seungmin’s knees, finding comfort in the way he instantly opened his legs and let you stand between them as the pair of you looked at Minho, silently.

“Hyung?”

Minho clenched his jaw, blinking rapidly as he looked anywhere but at the pair of you. You waited silently, as you knew to do with Minho. Sometimes he just needed a moment or two.

“You’re mine,” he mumbled, before looking back up at the pair of you, “both of you are mine.”

“Yes, hyung, of co–”

“--it turned her on, you know,” he said, sending an angry look your way. You brought your hands around your stomach, embarrassed that he did in fact notice.

“Yeah, well, just because Y/N’s a slut doesn’t mean I meant it like that,” Seungmin explained.

“Hey!” You tried to defend yourself, slapping Seungmin’s knee in protest. It didn’t help that you were still soaking wet–and him calling you names so casually wasn’t going to help you calm down.

“Mine,” Minho said again, far more determined this time. “Neither one of you is touching anyone else. I’m not letting anyone near you two.”

He closed the gap between you, trapping you in between his arms and Seungmin as he placed his hands flat on the younger’s thighs. You noticed his slid his fingers underneath the ripped out holes in Seungmin’s jeans, slowly raking his nails against the smooth skin of his thighs. You could hear Seungmin breathing louder.

“It’ll be for a good cause though,” Seungmin said, unable to stop teasing.

“I don’t give a shit about that,” Minho grumbled, “you’re mine.”

Seungmin tapped your waist lightly, slowly, as if he didn’t want Minho to see–which made you understand he definitely didn’t. He was giving you a hint, urging you to join him in provoking Minho even more.

“Don’t you wanna be famous, Min? I think Seung will have to fuck some producers to make that happen.”

“Mine,” Minho repeated, louder, “Kim Seungmin isn’t fucking anyone. And neither are you.”

“But, hyung,” Seungmin started, snaking his arms around your waist and reaching out for the loops on Minho’s jeans. He pulled him even closer to you–his still hard dick rubbing against your body lightly. “Do you wanna keep playing gigs at shitty venues?”

“Yeah,” Minho shrugged.

“And having to work two jobs for a month just to get one hour of studio time?” He added.

“Who cares,” Minho rolled his eyes, before looking right at you. He was daring you to say something else, you knew it, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it when his brown eyes were staring right at you like that. “There isn’t anything in this world that would make me share you two.”

“And if I wanted it for my birthday?” Seungmin asked with a toothy grin.

“Kim Seungmin,” Minho grumbled, grabbing onto the collar of Seungmin’s white blazer, “you’re such a fucking brat.”

“And you’re a jealous idiot,” he smirked back.

At that Minho grabbed the back of Seungmin’s neck, surging forward above your shoulder as he kissed him. The pair of them moaned into each other’s mouths, and you angled yourself as best you could to enjoy the view of them.

Minho always got so intense when he was even a little bit jealous, and considering how red his ears currently were it was safe to assume he was extremely jealous right now. Even though the scenario you were talking about was hypothetical at best, it didn’t stop Minho from letting his possessiveness take over him.

As the pair kept kissing, Seungmin brought a hand between your legs, tracing your wetness with his fingers. You quickly reacted, escalating things further as you grabbed Minho’s oversized white shirt from the collar, pulling it down to suck on the space right below his collarbone. It was his favourite spot, almost always already marked–but this time it wasn’t. You and Seungmin were surely lacking, but you’d quickly correct that.

With your mouth occupied with marking Minho’s beautiful skin, you opened the button on his jeans, shoving your hand into his boxers to start pumping his dick.

Minho pulled away from Seungmin’s lips at that, eyes fluttering shut as he threw his head back, enjoying your actions deeply–if the loud moans he let slip past his lips were anything to go by.

Seungmin, ever impatient, was eager for more kisses, and so he grabbed your chin and turned your face towards him. He instantly sucked on your bottom lip, groaning into your mouth.

As you kissed him, eager to taste him, he brought his hand into your underwear, slipping two fingers inside you with ease.

“Fuck,” he pulled away, watching as he shut his eyes tightly.

You then noticed Minho’s hand was down Seungmin’s boxers, too.

“Bubs, you’re so wet,” he moaned.

“You’d hope so if my dick was inside her like five minutes ago,” Minho grumbled. You squeezed his length lightly, prompting another loud moan to leave him, proving an effective way to shut him up.

“Can I be inside you?” Seungmin asked lowly, his breath shuddering as Minho started moving his hand quicker.

“Please,” you nodded eagerly.

You watched as Minho quickly dragged Seungmin off the counter. You watched as he tugged off Seungmin’s ripped jeans, getting another condom out of his pocket and rolling it on Seungmin’s length.

You waited as he secured it in place before Seungmin pushed down your pants. Just like Minho, he grabbed your ass firmly before slowly sliding into your core.

This time, you had Minho in front of you, and you could easily fall into his chest as Seungmin started thrusting into you. Minho held onto your back as Seungmin held your hips–and the sound of all three of you moaning was so incredibly loud in the old out of order toilets.

You hoped and prayed the rest of the crew were still loading Hyunjin’s van with the equipment and wouldn’t hear everything that was going on.

As much as you didn’t want to get caught (again, technically) you also really really couldn’t care enough to stop, nor be quiet about it.

Seungmin’s cock felt so good inside you, hitting the soft spot deep inside your body repeatedly as Minho kissed along your neck. He was rubbing himself against your stomach, moaning into your skin.

Minho peppered kisses along your jaw until he reached your cheek, placing soft and tender kisses on your skin.

“Mine, baby,” he reminded you softly. You nodded eagerly, moaning pathetically as your legs started to shake.

Seungmin was panting against your shoulder, his moans too broken to even make a sound at this point.

“Minho,” you moaned, willing your eyes to focus on his intense glare and not roll to the back of your head. He nodded at you, choking back a moan as you wrapped your hand around his length, rubbing your thumb against the tip lightly.

“Want both of you to cum inside me,” you groaned.

At that, Seungmin started to move faster–more desperate as he slid a hand underneath your shirt and grabbed your tits.

“Can’t get our groupie pregnant,” Minho smirked at you, “not good for the reputation.”

You let your head fall on Seungmin’s shoulder, eyes fluttering shut as he tugged on your nipples harshly. The pain mixed with the pleasure in the best way imaginable, and all you could do in response was pump Minho’s cock faster.

“Then cum on my tits, please, Min,” you begged, pushing your shirt up. You looked down at your chest, the sight of Seungmin’s big hands enveloping your chest caused you to clench around him tightly. “‘M close,”

“Where’d your bra go?” Minho tsked at you, “threw it on stage?”

You chuckled lightly, arching your back further into Seungmin’s chest.

“Seung, seung, don’t stop,” you started chanting, moans pitching higher and higher as Seungmin reached around to rub your clit in quick circles.

You grabbed onto Minho’s arms, grounding yourself as he pulled you into a messy kiss. You could barely concentrate on it, spit running down the corner of your mouth as you felt your high approaching you in seconds.

Before you could warn them you pulled away from Minho, your whole body shaking around Seungmin as he wrapped an arm around your stomach, holding you up as your knees threatened to give way. Minho sucked a spot on your neck as Seungmin fucked you through your orgasm–the pair of them surrounding you completely.

Soon after, as your walls were still fluttering in the aftershock, Seungmin came too–moaning your name loudly. You were both spent, but it didn’t stop you from pumping Minho together, Seungmin grabbing the base while you rubbed his tip.

“I’m close,” he warned, groaning as the pair of you started moving faster.

“Ask him again,” Seungmin whispered in your ear.

“Min, cum on me,” you said quickly.

“Go on, hyung,” Seungmin encouraged, “mark your territory.”

“Then I.. should, fuck, should cum on you, too,” Minho panted.

Seungmin smirked at you, that wicked smirk of his, before he pushed you onto your knees. He went down with you, joining you on the floor as he simply–with the most innocent puppy eyes he could master–stuck his tongue out. You quickly followed his lead, sticking your tongue out, too.

In a matter of seconds you felt warmth dropping onto your cheeks, and you watched in awe as Minho aimed the rest of his cum onto Seungmin’s tongue.

You pouted up at him, complaining loudly that he completely missed your tongue.

“Come here then,” Seungmin growled, pulling you into a kiss. It was salty and messy and bitter and you whimpered into the kiss.

You pulled away, desperate for some oxygen, and Seungmin took the opportunity to clean your cheeks from Minho’s cum–scooping it off your skin before he shoved his fingers in your mouth.

He chuckled at you, watched as you sucked his fingers clean before letting out hushed praises.

You felt Minho rub your head lightly, scratching at your hair as you looked up at him. “Let’s clean up, bunny.”

Seungmin helped you stand up as the three of you cleaned each other up, soft kisses exchanged between you. Once you were dressed again, and Seungmin spent a good few minutes trying to make your hair look normal again, Minho’s phone rang.

“It’s Felix, they said they took all the equipment back and they’re at a bar now. Wanna go join them?”

“Would it be lame if I said I wanna go sleep now?” Seungmin grumbled, making a point of plopping his chin on your shoulder.

Minho rolled his eyes, waiting for your answer as well. “I’m not a rockstar, so I definitely want to go to sleep now.”

“Let’s go home then,” Minho decided, wrapping an arm around your shoulder as he guided the pair of you out of the old, crumbling toilets.

Seungmin grabbed your hand, lacing your fingers together as the three of you walked in silence towards the parking lot.

That was until Minho decided to announce, “that was actually the worst place we’ve done it in. Hands down.”

“Hyung, nothing screams rockstar more than a quickie in a gross toilet with your number one groupie,” Seungmin reasoned.

“Number one?” You gasped, “you have another groupie?”

“Yes,” Seungmin smirked, “but he’s actually also the drummer in my band so I don’t know if it counts.”

“It doesn’t,” Minho huffed, “because the lead singer of my band is gonna disappear mysteriously tonight.”

The two of you laughed, watching fondly as Minho did his best to hold back his smile.

That night, the three of you climbed into bed–letting Minho take the middle so as to let his possessive streak from before calm down slightly. You were sure he wasn’t actually too insecure about it, but if being sandwiched between the two of you was what he needed you’d allow him that. Even if you did prefer the middle.

As the three of you snuggled closer to each other, Seungmin went into more concrete details about the producers he met. How they offered to record one of the songs they performed that night, how they always wanted to work with a rock band before–even though they were primarily into rap genres.

“Babe, did you tell the others about this?” Minho gasped, blinking rapidly.

“No, I went straight to you guys,” Seungmin shrugged.

“Well, this is huge for the band, Seungminnie. We have to tell them in the morning.” Seungmin nodded.

You moved closer into Minho’s chest, smiling proudly at your boyfriends.

“I can come to the studio, right? I have to see it happening,” you smiled.

“Obviously,” Seungmin grinned, “I mean, we still need to take one producer each, you know.”

You slapped Seungmin from across Minho’s torso, tsking at his apparently uncontrollable need to tease his boyfriend.

“Do you wanna go again, Kim Seungmin?” Minho grumbled at him, jaw clenching.

“Oh, baby,” Seungmin swooned dramatically, “thought you’d never ask.”

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bonchobrick · 1 year

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So I’ve seen some posts going around about a ‘Bruce adopts Danny and everyone thinks they’ll finally have a normal family member—Danny is very not normal’ and here’s my late night take on it.

Danny batfam au where they batfam tries really hard to keep their vigilante ass-kicking nightlife a secret from danny because he is ‘the only normal one in the family’ this becomes a problem however when danny gets kidnapped.

——-

The batfam all work together in a deeply serious family meeting to save their boy. After hours of combining their brains together they come up with a plan that will effectively save danny from joker, kick joker’s ass, and also make them look really cool while doing it.

So they bust in that warehouse, guns blazing, explosions fading in the background, a gust of dramatic dust covers the air

Batman steps infront of the rest of the team and demands to the blurry figure somewhere in the distance, “Where is Danny!”

The dust clears–they expect bad guys pointing weapons meancingly at them, they expect a cackle of a wicked clown amused at whatever plot he had planned coming to life, they expected a terrified boy perhaps tied somewhere likely siting in a chair that joker could present to the bats as a way of taunting them.

The dust settles–they observed their surroundings looking around and realize that, there are few new facts to be added into this ‘defeat the villain, get the bro, happy ending equation’

There is decidedly no weapons being pointed at them: In fact, all of the henchmen are already knocked out and tied up.

There is decidedly no evil laughs being echoed their way: In fact, the only noise that isnt coming from them is a light scritch scratch of a pencil

And there is decidedly no terrified little boy, there is a Danny however and he seems to be doing alright–actually scratch that.

Danny is doing wonders for the situation he’s in right now: In fact–

–Danny is sitting criss cross applesauce on-top a knocked out tied up Joker doing his algebra homework

The small blue eyed boy looks up at Batman's voice and visibly brightens, “Oh hey guys, I was wondering when you’d show up.”

Jason says with the utmost of comprehension, “...what.”

“So hi, I’m kinda new to gotham so sorry about beating these guys up, I think they’re villains? I dunno, anyways if you could take care of these guys while I call an uber home that’d be great.”

Danny sends them a blinding smile which would've been adorable if there weren’t a massive pile of bodies he were casually walking away from.

As Danny nears the exit he looks over his shoulder to the baffled group of vigilantes and blinks

“Oh yeah one last thing,” Danny rubs the back of his neck nervously, “Could you guys not tell the Waynes about this.”

Damian speaks up for the rest of his frozen family, albeit hesitantly, “I do think they have already been alerted of your kidnapping.”

“Oh no that's fine.” Danny starts nervously, “It's more about me being the… fighter… in this situation. I was just adopted by them and they seem really nice, I don’t want to scare them away being all grrrr im a scary monster boy and i love to hurt people argh.”

“I don’t think they’d think you're a monster.” Tim adds quietly

“Eh, tell that to my birth parents–they went psycho on me. Like evil scientist psycho, it was not as awesome as the movies make it sound, having scientists for parents.” Danny says bittersweet as he admits with a shrug

There is a moment of silence as the batfamily reevaluate the adoption file that states Danny’s family before they passed were very good people–albeit a bit excentric.

Dick blurts out, “Where did you learn to fight?”

Danny sends him an anxious chuckle, “I actually started when I was fourteen–my town always ran into some trouble so I had to step up. It’s part of the reason I moved here actually. I really don’t want anything to do with that hero vigilante life anymore…” The boy puts his hands together in a pleading motion, “So please don’t tell The Waynes!”

Bewildered at the situation as a whole they nod in a daze

The boys eyes widen at their easy agreement and he grins, “Thank you so so much! I’ve got to go now, it’s way past my curfew. but you’ll probably see me again next time I get kidnapped–I’ll make sure to put in a good word for you guys with my family bye!”

And just like that Danny slips off into the night leaving behind a family who were so sure they finally found a normal addition to their pack.

Jason sighs looking forlornly at the spot Danny had previously been standing, “You could just never pick the just semi-mentally healthy normal kids could you?”

Bruce groans pinching his the bridge of his nose

#dc x dp #dp x dc #fanfiction #danny phantom #batfam #danny fenton #dp x dc crossover #maybes a fic #this was fun to write so probs part 2 later #Batfam: hello normal son #Danny with practicing the knot he learned in home ed on 37 criminals: hey guys #batfam: fuck #danny is a little shit #it’s up to your interpretation whether or not he’s genuinely clueless about the Waynes being the Bats #or if he’s fucking with them #ohkay going to sleep bye bye #mwah #also we do not see the bad grammar haha gn #veerliwrites

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edenesth · 10 days

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TWTHH Spinoff: Little Touch of Heaven [1]

Pairing: physician!Yunho x herbalist!reader

AU: historical au (Joseon era)

Word Count: 5k

Summary: Dedicating his life to his work, Yunho had never bothered to entertain the idea of settling down. Despite encountering many charming women throughout his career, none had sparked his desire for companionship. But everything shifted when he met a certain herbalist whose medicinal knowledge seemed to surpass even his own. What began as mere intrigue might have gradually developed into affection.

A/N: As stated in the title, this is a spinoff. If you have yet to check out the main story, it's probably better to read that before starting this.

Main Story | Spinoff Masterlist | Part 2

"Are you still here, sunshine? It's way past closing time. Come on now, let's head home soon. Your mother will be worried if we take too long," your father called out from the backdoor of his apothecary, where you were diligently working in the backyard farm responsible for growing and harvesting all the herbs he required to make his medicines.

You sighed, gazing at the new batch of seeds you had just planted and still needed to water, "Uhh... you go on without me first, father. I'll join you as soon as I'm finished with this latest batch of ginseng."

The elderly man shook his head in resignation, "Alright, but don't say I didn't warn you. Be prepared for an earful from the lioness at home if you're late for dinner."

Chortling, you playfully stuck your tongue out at him, "Worry about yourself first! I'll tell mother dearest you called her a lioness," you waved him off as he sputtered in disbelief, panicking and giving you all the reasons you shouldn't say such a thing. But you only shook your head, finding your old dad incredibly adorable. That's why you couldn't resist teasing him every chance you got.

"Go home, father. I was just teasing you, geez," you reassured with a cheeky grin, watching as he huffed and grabbed his bag, "I'm going then. Hurry up, sunshine. And be careful on your way home."

"I will. You be careful too. I'll see you in a bit," you said, quickly returning your attention to your work. It was only then that you realised your stomach was beginning to growl with hunger at the thought of your mother's cooking. With no time to waste, you hastily completed the remaining tasks.

After finishing up, a contented sigh escaped you as you dusted off your hands and admired the fruits of your labour. Despite years of repetition, you couldn't imagine ever growing tired of this routine. Your father's apothecary had been a fixture long before your birth. Your mother had been one of his loyal customers, initially seeking medicine for her ailing father. However, as time passed, her visits seemed motivated by more than just medicinal needs.

It didn't take long for them to realise their love for each other, and they soon married. In the early days, your mother continued to assist your father with herb growing and harvesting, even after your arrival. Growing up, you spent your childhood amidst the sights and smells of the apothecary, playing and observing as your parents toiled away.

As you matured, your curiosity blossomed into genuine interest, prompting you to actively participate in and learn about herbalism. With your mother's growing age and declining health, she was eventually advised to retire and stay home, leaving you to take over her responsibilities in the apothecary. However, unlike her, you insisted on handling the planting of herbs alone, sparing your elderly father from further strain. Instead, he managed the less physically demanding tasks such as medicine-making and store management.

Locking up the apothecary doors, you began your trek home, you observed the families and couples passing you with a small smile on your face. While you couldn't exactly relate to most people, having spent most, if not all, of your time in the back of your father's store growing up, you couldn't be any happier than you are now.

You had no desire to venture out, make new acquaintances, or seek friendships. Your simple life brought you contentment, and you cherished the strong bond you shared with your parents. Grateful for the absence of hardship and discontent, you had no yearning for wealth or extravagance. Engaging in what you loved, even if it meant remaining within the confines of the apothecary indefinitely, filled you with immense satisfaction. You were perfectly content staying right where you were, surrounded by the familiar warmth of your family and the comforting aroma of herbs.

I could do this forever.

"I'm home!" you called out cheerfully as you stepped into your humble abode. It was a decent-sized house with all the essentials, providing everything your family needed. Despite the success of the apothecary and its financial stability, your parents saw no reason to move to a larger residence. Attachment and sentimental value outweighed any desire for more space.

Everything in your home remained in excellent condition, thanks to your mother's meticulous care, and that was all that mattered. As soon as you entered, she cooed and rushed over to envelop you in a warm hug, "Oh, my dearest little sunshine is home!"

You grinned at your father, who rolled his eyes in mock jealousy. Unlike you, he had returned home only to be lectured for allowing you to walk home alone instead of waiting for you. It was almost ironic how he had warned you about being scolded, only for the roles to be reversed.

It didn't take long before a smile spread across his features; your father was one of the sweetest men you'd ever known. But you hadn't met many people, given that most of your time was spent in the back of his shop. Even then, one thing was certain: he was good to you and even better to your mother.

You had never witnessed him raise his voice, regardless of how upset he might be. He always remained patient, letting his wife do all the yelling. And at the end of the day, he would go to great lengths to make her smile again, ensuring she never went to bed angry. If you were to find a husband, you'd want someone like your father.

Fortunately, you inherited his cheerful personality when you were born. You were truly a bundle of joy since entering this world, earning the nickname 'sunshine' from your parents. No matter how bleak their days became, your bright presence would always illuminate everything. You couldn't recall ever having a particularly bad day, and you hoped things would stay that way forever.

As you settled into your seat at the dining table, your bowl was instantly filled to the brim with your favourite dishes. Your mother chimed in, "Eat up, sunshine. You need to replenish all that energy you've lost from working so hard." The aroma tantalised your senses, and you couldn't help but salivate, "Thank you for the food, mother!" you exclaimed, immediately digging in, feeling famished to the point where you felt like you could devour an entire cow.

"Woah, woah, slow down. They're all yours, silly girl," your father cautioned, shaking his head at your unladylike eating habits, "I'm telling you, no guy will be attracted to you if you eat like that in public."

You pouted, retorting, "If he truly loves me, he'll accept me for who I am." Your mother gently tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, "While that's true, I'm starting to worry that you might never attract anyone at all, since you're always at home or hiding in the back of the store," she confessed, setting down her chopsticks, "I've been feeling slightly better lately. Maybe I could return to the store occasionally, and you could finally go out and meet some boys—"

Shaking your head, you cut her off, "Nice try, mother, but that's not happening. Be good and stay home if you don't want me and father to worry. Besides, I don't need a man to complete me. I'm content as it is. All I need is the two of you by my side."

Unbeknownst to you, your parents harboured fears about exactly that. They knew they wouldn't be around forever, and once they were gone, who would take care of you? The thought of leaving their precious little girl behind all alone in this world filled them with dread.

The elderly man pondered for a moment, unwilling to let go of the topic so easily, "How about you come and help in the store once in a while? That way, you'd still have the chance to interact with some of the customers, and who knows, you might meet someone the same way your mother and I met each other."

You giggled, watching as they exchanged affectionate glances, their hands intertwining on the table, "That's cute, but no thank you, father. The farm isn't going to tend to itself, and before you offer, I refuse to let you perform such hard labour. Your body can't handle it; please don't make me worry. I'll be just fine, I promise."

You're fine, sunshine, but we're not.

Your parents sighed, disappointed by your refusal. At this stage, they could only hope for some miracle to happen, allowing you to meet a kind man who would care for you when they no longer could.

But maybe that miracle wasn't as distant as they thought. Maybe there was no need for your parents to be so concerned. Maybe things were about to change very soon. Perhaps your parents had prayed earnestly enough, and perhaps the heavens had finally chosen to answer those prayers.

"Tell me what you need, and I'll assist you," Jongho offered as soon as the physician finished briefing the head maid on all the tasks she would now have to handle, especially with Lady Park's pregnancy encountering difficulties and depending on him. With a shake of his head, Yunho smiled at the assistant, "It's fine, I've got it covered. Eunsook knows what to do while I'm away. Now if you'll excuse me, I should probably head to the apothecary for some herbs."

As the doctor made his way to the apothecary where he sourced medicines and herbs for his clinic, his mind raced with plans on which herbs would best suit the case at hand. It had been some time since he last treated a pregnant woman or dealt with pregnancy-related issues like this, and he couldn't deny feeling a bit rusty in this area. If only he had foreseen this, he might have brushed up on his studies, but the urgency of the situation caught him off guard.

He could still recall how urgently he had been summoned. Jongho had barged into his clinic, leaving him with no choice but to close up immediately. He wondered if he should have anticipated the pregnancy, especially given the general's desire for alone time with his wife. Perhaps he had been foolish not to prepare beforehand; he should have seen this coming. But there was no time to chastise himself over it now. His focus needed to be on ensuring Seonghwa's baby safely reached the three-month mark.

"Ah, finally, we're here," he murmured to himself as soon as the familiar store with the sign 'Ryu's Apothecary' came into view.

Without hesitation, he entered the establishment he knew like the back of his hand. This was the only place he trusted for all his medicines and herbs; he had known the owner for years. Mr. Ryu truly was one of the kindest apothecaries, never overcharging him and sometimes even offering discounts and deals for his loyalty. Just when Yunho thought they were close enough for him to know everything about the elderly man, today seemed to prove otherwise.

Perhaps he didn't know nearly enough.

"Mr. Ryu, I'm afraid I'll need all your raspberry and peppermint leaf supply for the day. Lady Park hasn't been doing too well in the early stages of her pregnancy," the physician announced upon entering the apothecary where he regularly obtained his medicines and herbs, his eyes busily scanning around for anything else that could be useful.

"Is that so? You might want to consider our latest batch of Codonopsis root imported directly from China just a week ago. It's highly effective in boosting vital energy and reducing fatigue during pregnancy."

Yunho's head shot up in surprise.

First of all, why hadn't he thought of that before? More importantly, the feminine voice addressing him sounded nothing like the elderly man who usually managed the store. He turned to find a young woman behind the counter, his eyes widening in astonishment.

"O-oh, um... hello there. I didn't realise Mr. Ryu had such a young wife," he blurted out before cursing himself, feeling embarrassed for making such a hasty assumption.

Your face immediately twisted in disgust, "Goodness gracious, you're severely mistaken! I'm his daughter!"

Way to go, you complete idiot!

The physician immediately bowed, overwhelmed with embarrassment as he offered his apology, "I-I apologise, Miss Ryu! I don't know what made me say that. It's just that I'm used to seeing only your father here. Seeing someone else caught me off guard."

Blinking rapidly, he hoped he wasn't visibly blushing. He had known the elderly man for so long and hadn't the slightest clue he even had a daughter, and such a pretty one too. Making such a mistake on their first meeting was unbelievable to him. He rarely found himself flustered and struggled to maintain his usually composed demeanour.

Good lord, did he really just say that?

You could only sigh; this was precisely why you didn't want to be out here in the store. It was only your first time in your father's place, and this was the first thing that happened. Off to a bad start already, you wouldn't be surprised if this trend continued with some of the other customers later on. It felt like your father had jinxed it at dinner that evening; shortly after, your mother fell sick, leaving him no choice but to stay home and care for her. In the meantime, you were left with no option but to manage the store.

Determined to put the incident behind you, you shook your head, reassuring the physician, "It's fine, sir. My father has to stay home due to an emergency, but fear not, he should be back in a few days to man the store as usual. So, would you be interested in those Codonopsis roots? I could pack some for you as well."

"Y-yes, please. Thank you for the recommendation, Miss Ryu; I really appreciate it," he said, stepping over sheepishly towards the counter.

"No problem, sir," you responded politely, busy packing the raspberry and peppermint leaf he had requested along with some of the Chinese herbs you had suggested.

You calling him 'sir' only reminded him that you still didn't know his name. For the first time in forever, not knowing what to do with his hands, he intertwined them behind his back and cleared his throat, "Uhh... my name is Jung Yunho, by the way. I'm the—"

"Oh, so it's you!" you cut him off, nodding in recognition with raised brows, "I know you; I've heard plenty about you from my father. I know you're the great General Park's family doctor," you continued with a shrug, "But of course, I should've figured that out when you mentioned a certain Lady Park's pregnancy. Huh, it's good to know they're having a baby soon. And before I go off on a tangent, more importantly, you're known to be one of the best physicians in town."

With a light chuckle, he shook his head modestly, "Well, I'm clearly not the best if I couldn't even think to use Codonopsis root."

Furrowing your brows slightly, you countered, "I don't see how that has anything to do with your abilities. That's because you're a physician, not a herbalist. Experts like me are here for that. While we may know which herbs are best used to treat what, herbalists obviously cannot diagnose patients. See, that's our difference and why we coexist to help one another."

Listening to you speak, Yunho felt thoroughly impressed. He couldn't deny that he had always believed he was the smartest person in the room, given his medical expertise and role as the famous general's personal doctor. People often revered him for being at the top of his field. At some point, he had almost convinced himself that there was nobody who could teach him anything new.

But your words made him reconsider.

He hadn't expected to meet someone who could humble him and make him realise he still had much to learn. Especially not a young woman like you, the daughter of an apothecary, a herbalist.

"In that case, Miss Ryu, what else would you recommend for an unstable early pregnancy? You see, the general's wife suffered from severe malnutrition throughout her childhood, and her body is now lacking enough nutrients for both her and her baby," he asked, deciding to set aside his pride and seek help. Seonghwa was relying on him, and he couldn't risk anything happening to Lady Park or the baby.

Finishing up the last of his orders, you hummed in thought, "Actually, there is another medicine that could help. It's a well-known Chinese herb my father has sold to some customers facing similar problems," you explained as you retrieved a box of medicine from the cabinet behind you. Opening it revealed a brown block of medicine he had never seen before, "This one also arrived not too long ago from China. It's called Colla Corii Asini, and it nourishes the kidney while preventing miscarriage. Perhaps this is what Lady Park needs."

"Thank you so much, that sounds perfect," he breathed out in relief, finally feeling a glimmer of hope. You shook your head with a small smile to indicate 'no worries.' As he prepared to make his payment, he asked, "Um, I was just wondering... why haven't I seen you before? I mean, you're Mr. Ryu's daughter and—"

You shrugged, "I'm in charge of growing and harvesting all the herbs we sell, so I'm usually on the farm at the back of the store."

"Ohh... so, you are the genius behind all these herbs," he nodded slowly in wonder, standing there after completing his payment, hands full with the herbs you'd packed for him. Intrigued by your knowledge, he mustered the courage to ask, "I know I'm probably asking too much, but... w-would it be okay for me to come over frequently and learn more about herbs from you? You know, to improve as a medical practitioner."

You shrugged again, "Sure, suit yourself."

Yes, she said yes!

Deep down, he didn't want this to be his first and last time seeing you. He rationalised it, telling himself you were simply an intriguing person. He hadn't encountered anyone as passionate about healing and herbs, someone who possessed more knowledge than he did. He was just eager to learn more.

That had to be the only reason.

It had to be.

"Has the mistress been feeling any better?" the physician inquired eagerly, anxiously awaiting Eunsook's response. He had returned to the general's estate a few days after administering the first batch of the medicine you had recommended.

Beaming, the head maid exclaimed, "Oh, those medications worked like magic! The fatigue and morning sickness improved immensely just a day after she started taking the medicine. You're amazing, Physician Jung! I knew we could count on you!"

It wasn't me at all, it was all her.

"That's good to know, Eunsook! I couldn't have done it without the help of a very talented herbalist. Well then, I'll be back in another few days with more of those herbs," he said eagerly, already looking forward to returning to the apothecary to share the news with you.

The elderly woman bowed, "Of course! And please extend our thanks to this kind herbalist friend of yours, we definitely could use more experts like him around—"

"Her. She's a female herbalist, and you're right, we do need more talents like Miss Ryu around," Yunho quickly corrected.

Blinking rapidly, Eunsook nodded with a slightly knowing smile, "Oh, my apologies. I shouldn't have assumed her gender, but yes, please offer Miss Ryu our sincere gratitude."

"Don't worry, I will."

As he approached the apothecary, his heart seemed to quicken at the thought of seeing you again, though he couldn't pinpoint the exact reason why. Perhaps he was simply eager to make a new friend who shared his passion for medicine. Besides, he couldn't deny his admiration for your extensive knowledge of herbs, despite your young age. You seemed to surpass even some of the more experienced practitioners in his field.

Truthfully, he genuinely desired to learn more about herbs from you. The prospect of befriending you held great potential for him; he envisioned you as a valuable ally who could aid in his continuous growth as a physician. Together, with his medical expertise and your herbal knowledge, you could make a formidable team, contributing significantly to society together.

"Oh, Physician Jung! How can I help you today?" Mr. Ryu, your father, greeted him upon his entrance. For once, the doctor seemed rather flustered as he approached the counter, "Oh, uhh... I'm not here for medicine today. I came to see your daughter. Please don't take this the wrong way!" he hurriedly added, "She said I could come to learn more about herbs from her, so I—"

Your father's eyes widened in excitement as Yunho rambled on. While he didn't like the fact that his wife had to fall sick for him to finally be away from the store, it must have been a blessing in disguise because now his daughter had finally met someone, and not just anyone, but the amazing Physician Jung. Oh, he would be able to die happy if this was to be his future son-in-law.

With a little snicker, the elderly man nodded, "Ah, I see you've met my little sunshine while I was away. No need to explain yourself, I believe you. Now if you'll come with me, she's just at the back of the store."

"Here, just head straight ahead, and you should find her somewhere within the plantations," your father said, nodding his head down the hallway leading to the back of the store, "I'd take you there myself, but I don't think I should leave the store unattended."

"I've got it, Mr. Ryu, thank you."

As he walked down the hallway as instructed by Mr. Ryu, the physician wondered how the elderly man would have reacted if he knew Yunho had mistaken his dear daughter for his wife during their first meeting. That would surely ruin the image of perfection he had consistently been upholding.

But why would that matter?

The apothecary would continue to value him as a customer. Why was he suddenly concerned about how your father would view him? The direction of his own thoughts was beginning to baffle him.

Before he could become lost in his thoughts, he reached the farm and was struck by its beauty and meticulous upkeep. His admiration for you swelled, knowing that it was your work that had created such a splendid place. Ryu's Apothecary was known for its top-notch herbs and medicine, and now he understood why. His respect for you grew immensely, realising that you were the mastermind behind it all. After taking in the full view of the farm, he finally spotted you.

Is that what a fairy looks like?

The moment he spotted you amidst the herbs you were planting, he felt as if his breath had been stolen away. He already thought you were pretty before, but now, seeing you in your white and blue hanbok among the lush greenery, passionately engaged in your work, you looked even more enchanting to him.

"Ah, Physician Jung, you're here!" you exclaimed, pulling him out of his reverie with a wave of your hand, "Hurry over, I'm about to harvest this batch of Sophora roots. There's probably some valuable information here for you to learn from this."

"Right away, Miss Ryu!" he replied eagerly, rushing over to join you.

Without delay, you plunged into your work while explaining the herb to him, "This, right here, is the Sophora flavescens, native to China and Japan. Its antibacterial, antiviral, and antifungal properties make it useful in treating conditions such as damaged livers, jaundice, eczema, ulcers, and more. I know it looks nothing like the completed product you're used to seeing, but that's because it requires several seasons of drying after harvesting before it's ready for use."

While he knew he should focus on the herbs, he found it difficult to tear his gaze away from your face. The subtle furrow of your brows and the delicate bite of your lips when you weren't speaking—adorable. Wait, did he really just think that? He'd never had such thoughts before. Sure, he'd treated plenty of beautiful ladies throughout his career, but this occurrence was a first.

"Interestingly, this plant can grow up to 5 to 7 feet tall. Even taller than you, isn't it quite amazing?" you remarked, noticing his lack of response. Frowning, you turned to him and sighed when you realised he wasn't paying attention. With a gentle nudge on his shoulder, you snapped him out of his trance.

"O-oh, sorry, you were saying?" he muttered, embarrassed to be caught zoning out.

"I... never mind. Could you please fetch the root puller from that tool rack?" you requested, opting to delegate rather than have him kneel in the dirt beside you. Perhaps he was starting to regret coming here, realising it wasn't his cup of tea. Not that you minded; he could leave if he wanted to. After all, he was the one who asked to be here. The least he could do was listen.

"Absolutely!" he responded, heading toward the tool rack to retrieve what you asked for.

Making his way toward the tool rack, he chastised himself for leaving such a poor impression. It was only your first session together, yet he was struggling to stay focused. Gosh, you must be judging him so hard right now, and he couldn't even blame you. You were kind enough to share your knowledge of herbs at his request, and here he was, lost in daydreams instead of paying attention. Determined to redeem himself, he resolved to be more useful.

Pull yourself together, Jung Yunho.

However, the doctor was so absorbed in his thoughts that he failed to notice the patch of ground still damp from your earlier watering. You did a double-take when you saw him unknowingly heading towards the wet path instead of taking the drier route.

"Wait, Physician Jung! You'll slip and fall if you go that way!" Your words of warning went unheeded, and you sprang up from your position on the ground in alarm, "Yunho! Yah, Jung Yunho!" In a panic, you dashed toward him, your eyes widening as he stepped onto the wet soil just as you reached out to grab his arm and redirect him.

But it was too late.

"You bloody idiot!" Your shout echoed across the farm as he let out a yelp, his arms instinctively encircling you as he toppled backwards, shielding you from the fall as he landed on the wet ground.

Your breath caught as you landed on his chest, faces mere inches apart, hearts racing. Huh, how have you not realised how good-looking he actually is? Wait, what? Before either of you could react, your father's voice rang out from the entrance, "Oh dear, what's with all the shouting, sunshine? Is everything alright—"

"F-father, I can explain..."

The apothecary blinked at the unexpected sight before him: his daughter atop the handsome and intelligent Physician Jung. God must have heard his prayers. With a grin, he chuckled, "Well, well! Seems like everything's more than alright! I won't intrude any further. Back to work for me!"

"N-no, Mr. Ryu! It's not like that at all!"

With a gulp, he turned to face you again, only to find you glaring down at him, "Let me go," you muttered, and he immediately loosened his grip, "O-oh, my bad." He moved to sit up as soon as you were off him, only to smile sheepishly up at you when he felt the back of his outfit completely soaked. Not only did he fail to help you with anything, but he was now causing you more trouble.

Taking a deep breath to calm yourself, you raised a fist threateningly towards him, "I'll get you some new clothes to change into. Stay here and don't move, or else..."

"Y-yes, ma'am."

« Preview of Part 2 »

"Oh, my poor Yunho. I can't believe that happened," Lady Park cooed, trying to suppress her laughter as she comforted the flustered physician after completing her weekly check-up. He was really beginning to regret his decision to confide in her.

"I shouldn't have told you about it, ugh. And to think you'd be the only one not to tease me," he grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest and turning away from her.

Lady Park softened, "I'm not teasing you, silly. You're always so serious and uptight, it's just refreshing to see you like this for once. Besides, there's nothing wrong with having feelings for someone, especially at your age. You should really consider settling down."

He scoffed, a blush creeping up his cheeks, "What? That's funny, I-I didn't say anything about liking anyone, my lady."

"You don't have to. It's written all over your handsome face," she smiled knowingly, "Hwa has that same look often, so I think I'd know better than you, Physician Jung."

Perhaps she had a point; he still couldn't shake the memory of that incident from his mind. The sensation of holding you close lingered, strangely comforting. He started to grasp why couples found solace in such intimacy. Maybe the idea of settling down, and having someone to come home to after a long day wouldn't be so bad. Maybe—

"What are you two talking about? Didn't the check-up end ages ago?" the general's voice jolted him back to the present.

"Nothing at all, my lord," he stammered, caught off guard.

Seonghwa arched an eyebrow sceptically, "You really expect me to believe you'd spent an hour talking about nothing with my wife? So, what were you doing together then?"

"Oh my god, nothing! We just talked, okay?"

"Right, now fill me in. Suit yourself if you don't want to. My wife will tell me everything eventually; just so you know, we don't keep secrets from each other."

Slapping a palm against his forehead, the physician wished he'd kept his mouth shut, "Alright, but promise not to tell anyone. If Hongjoong catches wind of this, I'll never hear the end of it."

"Deal."

Holy sheeeet, thank you all so much for 1.7k followers! I was sleep-deprived asf while proofreading lmao I hope this one was decent HAHA I promise the next part will be more interesting!

As always, thank you for reading and let me know your thoughts! <3

Tag list (1/9): Tumblr is a bitch and won't let me mention more than 5 users in a single sentence, so now my tag list looks like a complete joke🤡

@itstheghostofmypast @huachengsbestie01 @minghaoslatina @weedforthoughtz @minkiflwr |

@cheolliehugs @the-kpop-simp @writingwieny @stayatinykatsy @skzline |

@green-agent @stayinhellevator @vampzity @tinyteezer @evidive |

@vantediary @superbbananananana @kimyeolchan @chocolate-scoups @decadentstrangernacho |

@vic0921 @marievllr-abg @sunnyhokyu @seungmin-in-thebuilding @heyitsmetonid |

@sansaurora9904 @darkestacademiamindsx12-blog @myblovedjyh @professormingisglasses @newworldwritings |

@chicken-fifi @thunderous-wolf @shythinggiver @madnpan @yandere-stories |

@anxiousskylar @frobin4ever @starssongs98 @dollce-exe @jan-l |

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@naps-over-degree @idfkeddieishot @sis-101 @lemon-sage17 @jcalicocatj

#edenesth #the way to this heart #little touch of heaven #twthh spinoff #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #jung yunho #jeong yunho #ateez yunho #historical au #joseon era #yunho x reader #yunho x you #ateez fic

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vminity21 · 1 year

Text

Goodbye to Hello | jjk

Pairing: badboy!jeongguk x female!reader

Word Count: 25,102

Genre: fluff, lots of smut oops, mega-angst, strangers to lovers!au, fuckboy/fuckgirl!au

Warning(s): profanity, infidelity, mega-angst (im sorry), mention of alcohol, smoking, smut, unprotected sex, oral (m + f receiving), slight m!dom, nipple play, hand job, dirty talk, ice play, ass grabbing, mention of a sex toy, squirting, hobi is a bad boy in this too, multiple orgasms, smutty kissing, reader may or may not have accidentally become a fuckgirl in this story sorry not sorry; Rated: 18+

Credit to: @yoonoclock for making such an incredible cover for this story that has taken me two long years to write. It’s finally where I need it to be and thank you so much Monnie for using your talent to create a banner that truly embodies the story.

Taglist: thank you so much for your patience with me! @ggukkieland @thisartemisnevermisses @moonchild1 @familiarlikemymirror3 @gukniverse

Summary: After a devastating break up, you immediately move in with your sister, leaving behind the country life to relearn the ups and downs of the city. Adopting a cat and gaining a new job at a retail store part time, life seems to gradually bring happiness and healing, but you did not expect for it to become even more interesting when you stumble upon the enticing yet alluring tattoo artist, Jeon Jeongguk. Will this be an adventure of a lifetime? Or will hello always lead to goodbye?

Golden specks twinkle sporadically like fairy dust creating a shimmering tint to the air that collects the attention of any individual trailing the pavement. Pollen. The groovy excitement of a stuffy nose and mildly itchy eyes sounds stellar compared to how you could be feeling. Sniffling roughly, you squeeze your eyes shut momentarily to relieve what little of the itch that you can and trotting up the steps to your realm of refuge, you can hardly stand the excitement of bundling into the arms of your boyfriend, Jung Hoseok, and relaying how lovely it is to wipe your nose every five minutes. Maybe even ask if you can borrow the sleeve of his sweatshirt as a tissue. Pause. Maybe not.

Entering the rental home, you hadn’t noticed how eerily quiet it seemed, not right away; especially when you are so used to hearing the raging shots of a video game mingled with the yelling profanity between Hoseok and his best friend Kim Namjoon who bicker over headsets about wins that neither of them were really close to. But, let the males believe, they indeed, almost triumphed. Settling your handbag onto the dining table, you tilt your head in confusion. Is Hobi sick today? Where is he?

The floors creak beneath your tennis shoes while you observe the kitchen. That’s funny. The dishes are cleaned and put away, and not one stray of lint is seen upon the countertop- Hoseok has always been clean as well as you, but he never went over the top unless he had company over, and by company you mean his mother. Thoughts drift to the possibility of him wanting to surprise you for whatever the case may be, and your heart flutters at the mere inkling while a smirk graces your lips. How thoughtful, you feel gushy at his consideration of you, and your steps follow the direction of your bedroom.

It is then that your life spirals in a cluster of emotions that you will never forget; sparks dancing in your vision while your chest tightens intensely in response to the sounds you hear echoing beyond the door. No. You want to scream, but your throat constricts, not producing any verbalization no matter how much your brain signals. This can’t be real. Please don’t let this be real. The moans persist. The mystery female is eagerly gasping his name over and over while your heart shudders at the pain severing every vein within your frame. A tear falls panging the floor- your body is so tense, you shiver through the anxiety, and you know deep down that confronting him will hurt even worse than if you were to take the high road and walk away.

Wiping the dampness from your eyes, you spin to compile your things as in your handbag that contains your wallet, car key, and cellphone, and you march outside, slamming the front door behind you to shed some of the anger boiling in your system; you could care less if he heard your grand exit or not for you blocked his number before you settled into your car. You may be able to run from him, but you cannot run from the excruciating pain erupting beneath your chest nor the cycle of questions that refuse to stop spinning because why? After three years together, why would he betray you like this?

The front door flings open. Hoseok runs onto the porch in pure panic, hair disheveled, only in boxers, mouth gaping open as his widened eyes search until they lock with yours. But it’s too late. You are already safe within your car. Even when you notice the slim figure of a woman in one of his t-shirts, you do not move your gaze. You let the stare down with your boyfriend linger enough to rest your case. The second he starts rushing down the porch steps in a way to catch up to you for whatever meaningless apologies- meaningless explanations that will pour from his mouth- is when you reverse onto the road.

Behind the steering wheel with no destination in mind, you come up with the only solution you find reasonable, and you make your way to the city with the intention of starting over, even if it means it destroys you.

A queue of ants scurry along the lining of the windowsill where the sun tinges the glass against your knuckles. Shrivel sounds of the granola bar wrapper fills the silence of the kitchen while you gulp the final bite of your snack. Sometimes when your hands feel cold, you leave it to the sun to indulge your skin with warmth before trekking to your room, but instead, the growling of your stomach and the distraction of observing the insects seems to help with the boredom. Dread happens to consume the depths of your chest at the subtle reminder of returning to work in the morning; Sundays always bring the feeling of woe because it is the end of relaxation before continuing the week of being overwhelmed. But you figure adulting is worth it in some ways, and as everyone else, you must work to provide and live.

The chirp of your cat, Kenai, alerts your attention, him pouncing onto the counter to rub his head along your free wrist. “If you’re hungry, just say so,” you coo sarcastically, knowing he is due for his dinner in a few minutes. He will be a year old soon, his yellow eyes squinting as he rubs his head against your palm before arching his back once you run your hand to the end of his tail. Your eyes flit back to the ants darting in search of whatever they need, and inwardly, you are uncertain how your sister, Monnie would feel about the bugs, but you always found them fascinating.

Jumping off the counter, Kenai excitingly follows suit, twirling against your legs as you saunter to the pantry to retrieve his food. You have officially lived with your sister for a year now, and adopting Kenai was one of the best decisions you have ever made besides moving to the city. It is as if you disappeared from the prior life that you once lived and you like it just that way. Kenai temporarily ditches you for his food, and you stroll off to the living room where the scenery of a huge, flat screen television shows your reflection on the empty screen.

Monnie happens to be a successful artist who fell in love with another known artist by the name of Min Yoongi. Together they have won the world with their talent, and you could not have asked for a better couple to be in your life. If there is a true definition of love, it is how Yoongi gazes at your sister- because she is the only woman in the world, he will do anything and everything for. Jokingly, you always tell the pair that you are just going to stick with your cat, but the sadness that etches within Monnie’s eyes reveals that she hopes you will find a good man of your own. She is aware of why you abruptly returned to the place you were birthed, and she is aware that you refuse to speak of it even if it is pent up to the brim of imploding.

When you met your ex, it was in a park of all places. Not high school, not college, not through a family member or a friend: a park. It was a romantic way to begin even though you will never admit it now, but it started so naturally. So simple. You were reading a book while he was creating one. The way you were poised apparently sparked an idea for a story he openly confessed later on in the courtship. He described the scenery around you and how enwrapped in the book you were as something meant to be written for others to discover. How he could imagine a story just from the vision you had no idea you were forming for him.

You fell for him fast. Hard. He was your first everything aside from kissing and as time went by, you agreed to move in with him. You never expected what was going to happen in the future. You never anticipated such excruciating pain from the betrayal, nor did you notice any signs leading up to it. He’s tried contacting you from other phone numbers, but after four months apart, he seemed to have given up. But, because the pain is still so raw, you can’t bear to face him. You will crumple like a piece of paper in his presence if you were to ever see him again. For now, you do all you can to just avoid the situation as much as possible. Besides, he has her now. Whoever she may be.

Alas, what does it matter? It is not like he is able to reach out to you anyways for he is blocked on every and any social media site you can think of, and thankfully your name was not on the lease nor was your name hooked to anything involving your ex, so it will be fine. Or so you tell yourself repeatedly until you lose track of the thought. But that uneasy feeling creeps back up and instead of reaching for the remote, you decide maybe a walk around the city will be better. Monnie isn’t due home until later and you are assuming Yoongi will be tagging along, so why not pass the time by exploring?

Loneliness seeps in the gallows of your heart while you rush through the app for a driver. There is not a specific destination you prefer over another, so you pick a store at random around fifteen minutes away. With the money your sister has, she doesn’t expect you to pay for anything, all she cares about is your happiness though you refuse to not work; for now, you have a part time retail job whilst figuring out a career path that will become your future in the long term.

One thing you will say, is you have not missed driving in the city, hence the reasoning of you summoning a chauffeur. Traffic isn’t your favorite as commonly pronounced by anybody, and with how overwhelming your brain can feel, you prefer to be able to drift into the zone out rather than pay attention. Gripping the strap of your bag, you eagerly watch the road while cars pass by letting the heat of the breeze sweep through your hair. When the signal of your phone alerts you that your driver is close by, you aim your focus in the direction of a slowing vehicle, stunned by the countenance of a sharp jawline and rainbow colors dyed into bleach blonde strands.

The beauty you are about to behold is way out of your comfort zone, nor have you felt this attracted to an individual since your heart was obliterated a year ago. “Hi-hi,” you stutter once you enter the passenger side, the driver nods once with a smirk in tow, his button up snug to his frame, an earring dangling from his right ear.

“I’m Jimin,” he introduces, “Location still the bookstore in the city?”

“Yes please,” you are shocked you sound audible, but you return a timid smile while shoving some loose hair behind your reddening ear. The clean scent of lemon breaches past your nostrils while you try to maintain your composure, “I’m y/n, nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” soft music plays in the background, yet the only sense you tune into is the pounding in your temples. Pull yourself together, he is just a guy who drives a car, who will safely take you to the bookstore, no biggie, you will survive, there are more important things to- “So, as a fellow book lover, I must ask, what is your favorite story?”

Oof. Conversation to minimize the awkward way your shoulders tense at the mere thought of looking over at him, you rummage through the possible answers, struggling to gather your words in a timely manner. “Very hard question,” you gulp, “It’s like asking to choose your favorite song or movie. Too many stories to explore,”

“And never a time you will run out of adventure,”

Eyebrows shoot up in response, “Right,” you smile, “Sounds like you love a good adventure,”

“I will neither confirm nor deny,” a soft chuckle escapes past his plump lips while he keeps his gaze ahead on the traffic. “Have you resided here long?” Shifting nervously in your seat, you watch the buildings of the city closely in a way to avoid Jimin’s gaze without obviously melting.

“Only a year, made a split decision to move in with my sister. You?”

Jimin flits his stare for only a moment, “For a long while. My best friend and I are opening a bar not far from the bookstore, you should come sometime. Invite anyone and everyone you want.”

“I love me a good drink,” bravery enters your frame while you briefly scan the smooth skin of Jimin’s face. “Sounds like a plan.”

“Taehyung has a lot of success in his business, and this will be his fourth opening so celebration is a must. He has a lot of sponsors and connections, the main being Kim Seokjin,”

Gasping, you immediately turn to him, “You mean the actor Kim Seokjin? You’re kidding!”

Laughing, Jimin’s smile stretches to show pearly white teeth, “I will allow you to punch me if I am,”

Deep down you try to suppress the memory of your ex-boyfriend who had written a script in preparation to be read for a potential movie, one that would, in hopes, hire Kim Seokjin as the lead. Hoseok is talented in the writing department and had dreams of becoming a successful author, but you gladly dismiss the memory when Jimin pulls to park for you to exit.

“Here,” swiftly he pulls out a business card handing it to you with a friendly grin, “The opening is in a few weeks, will I see you there?”

“One hundred percent,” clutching the card in your hand, you wave before shutting the door, turning to face the bookstore to hide the fact you would prefer to stare at Jimin whose face will haunt you for the time being. For fucks sake, I need to get laid. As you desperately insert the card into your wallet, you pause. Nay! Male specimens suck, they all suck, my mother said the purpose of a male is to produce a child that I clearly am not ready to birth from the womb that is my pretty pink uterus. That bleeds. Monthly. Because I am not housing a fetus I- Ew. Maybe you’d rather be an aunt. Or have an ovariohysterectomy. Maybe your uterus would like to be taken out of the equation in general.

And now I need a coffee…. Shit.

Since when have you been this intimidated by a good-looking man? And when have you found any of your sporadic conscious entertaining? Therefore, you passionately believe in keeping your mouth shut when you’re on a tangent because humiliation is not in your vocabulary. Or… Is it? Also, you hate admitting how long it has been since you have even been kissed, much less caressed lovingly until you fell asleep. Is moving on from heartbreak too much to ask for? The heat of Hoseok’s kisses trailing your neck were enough to make you come undone, but his betrayal outweighs the good times- good times that evidently weren’t enough for him. Huffing in congruent with the squeezing of your shutting eyes, you step along the semi-crowded sidewalk where people mind their business enough to leave you alone. Your hand must have pressed against your stomach for a bit because you can still feel the presence of the touch before you subconsciously removed your palm.

The bookstore is a popular joint in your opinion. It stands four stories high with the fourth floor having a garden center where people can read and smell the perfumes of flowers in peace. Unfortunately, you are not in the best mood for getting lost in the lines of a tale considering you were too busy thinking about your erm, lady possessions, so you tread what you hope will be enough distraction until you feel satisfied enough to go home. It’s funny the curveballs life will throw at you especially when twists and turns decide to expose themselves in the unexpected ways everyone wishes will not happen unless it gleams nothing but happiness. Sadly, for some, the hits of negativity must spark lessons before one reaches the promise land, so when you make a turn into the alley way leading to a popular coffee shop, you do not anticipate the way your life is going to change. Nor do you fathom the string of events that are about to follow when you stumble upon a leathered frame, sucking in a puff of a cigarette while he flicks at his eyebrow shimmering with a piercing, leaning against the wall where he swallows roughly. Undercut freshly done, his nostrils release the smoke in what seems to be slow motion while you halt in place.

Holy shit.

Tattoos ornament the entirety of his knuckles and wrist alluding to the beginning of a sleeve that’s covered by the thick material of his jacket. For all you know, he may not be one to approach, yet the tug of your heart is so strong, you try with all your might to make the executive decision to return to the bookstore, but alas, it is too late. Brown irises glance to your frozen figure right when he takes another drag of the cigarette, lifting an eyebrow in evident interest while your jaw drops unintentionally. “I’m-I’m sorry,” you bow in tiny, “I didn’t see you there.” Cringing, you know damn well that you saw him, and he sees right through your little white lie.

“You’re fine,” he replies, studying your expression, tossing the cigarette to the ground to muffle it, “Not the best place for me to smoke, but it’s the least populated area,”

At a loss for words, you nod in response, the guy barely pushing off the wall to stand straighter, the smell of the cigarette lingering. “Well, I guess I’ll be going.” You say under your breath, walking with a mission toward the coffee shop to catch your breath. How in the world can somebody be that attractive? First Jimin, now this guy? Why hadn’t you moved to the city earlier? Uterus, it is not time to ovulate! It is not the time! The ding of the bell alerts your arrival to the staff, and you contemplate your order deciding to try a new flavor of coffee. Surprisingly, it is not nearly as busy as it typically is, so once you retrieve your order and pay, you search for a secluded table to descend into for some form of solitude. And, to recover from the interaction with the guy from the alley. You have never smoked a day in your life, but he made it seem so tempting, which in your case is nowhere near normal, so you shake the strange attraction from your mind as best as you can.

Sipping the hot liquid frequently, your sister has always teased that you delight in drinking coffee in the evenings, but it is your comfort go to especially when you need something to do, or to feel relaxed. The bell of the door echoes prompting the immediate noticing of whoever the customer is that entered. Swallowing abruptly, your heart leaps at the sight of the guy you literally saw fifteen minutes ago in the alley. A creeping blush spreads along your chest soon touching your cheeks to the point you wish you could hide. In a way, you attempt, sinking a smidge in your seat wondering if that will prevent him from noticing your presence.

Nice try.

Between the minimal number of customers and the efficiency of the employees, a tattooed hand linked to a coffee cup slides into the seat across from you, tilting his head curiously when you toss your sight to bask in the glory of his profound attraction. You are in so much trouble. “Hi, again,” you murmur, crossing your arms over your chest to hide the quivering of your cold fingers, and to tame the flipping of your ovaries. “Did I scare you enough to make you confront me?”

Smirking a breathy laugh, he takes a swig of his coffee, “I’m not scared of anything.”

“If not fear, what brings you to my table?”

Wetting his bottom lip, you are proud of your feigned courage, but you genuinely are shocked by his sudden presence. Did you leave an inadvertent impression? Quirking an eyebrow, a small smile remains on his lips, “A confession.”

“If it’s sweet talk, I’ll pass.”

Leaning forward to perch his elbows on the table, he folds his hands showing the tattoos you inwardly reveled in earlier, his head poises to the side while he presses his knuckles to his chin casually. “Bold of you to assume I was here to compliment you.”

“Ouch.” You deadpan. “But then again, my mother’s compliments are all that matter to me. Anything you say is irrelevant.”

“Oh,” gradually laying his intertwined fingers onto the table, he challenges with a stare that can make any human being melt into the wooden floor. Fuck. “Then I guess telling you that your shirt is inside out isn’t going to change anything.”

Gasping, your palms fly to your chest where you instantaneously look to see the lines of your t-shirt that clearly expose the fact that you indeed left the house with your shirt on wrong. It is not as embarrassing as one may think, but you were unaware of the food stain dazzling along the side of your boob. Which in this case, makes you blush harder knowing that his eyes may be lingering in an area where no man is welcome currently. But why do you lowkey indulge in the idea of him taking a moment to sweep you up and down? Get a fucking grip, y/n.

“Well,” you sporadically move to position yourself in the seat where the point out will no longer be as obvious, “I appreciate how observant you are, but at least it’s not the worst thing to discover. In public.”

Chuckling under his breath, he shrugs, “I agree. Just figured I’d inform you, otherwise, my intentions are pure.”

Scoffing, you cross your arms again, remaining comfortable in your chair, “That’s not suspicious at all.”

“If I wanted anything, I would have asked already.” He murmurs, “And I always get what I want.”

“Fearless and greedy,” you are vastly grateful that the uterus doesn’t make noises when it’s craving to house an infant, especially with a man as ballsy and gorgeous as the one before you. And why the hell are you even thinking of children at a time like this? Any other male specimen would have made this conversation creepy, but this guy is so alluring that it doesn’t seem to bother you in the least. “What’s your name, Cigs?”

He chokes mid-sip, “That’s a new one.”

“What’s the norm?”

“Do you really wanna know?”

“Not if it’s sexual.”

“Oooo, then I’ll never tell.”

“Pure, my ass.”

“I never said I was pure, milady, I said my intentions with you were pure.”

Eyeing him questionably, you stifle a jeer, “Not sure if that’s an insult, but I’ll take it.”

Smiling enough to where a glimpse of his teeth is seen, he reaches a hand forward, “I’m Jeongguk.”

“I’m y/n.” Kindly, you take his hand returning the greeting with a grin.

“And I find you extremely striking. I mean that with all sincerity.” Gently, he presses a warm kiss to the back of your knuckles before releasing your clammy hand. “Now go fix your shirt before my OCD destroys me.”

Groaning, your mind wants to focus on the sensation from his lips on your skin, but instead, in mild humiliation, you shake your head kiddingly while you mosey to the restroom. Remembering to bring your purse, you hadn’t realized you left your phone behind on the table next to your drink. Returning, you’re shocked to see that he’s left; your phone and coffee appear untouched, yet you feel the sting of disappointment for you enjoyed the bickering even though some may find it strange. It has been a while since you have been in proximity with a man of such nature, especially one whose features leave an imprint on every crevice of your brain.

The ride home holds nothing but thoughts of the lad who mysteriously approached you at your favorite coffee spot, mostly questions of wonderment of who he is. Jeongguk, sure, but what is his story? Shoving the thought past your mind, you enter your room once you arrive home and feed your cat, slipping into your pajamas and collapsing onto your bed releasing a long sigh. Slamming your palms to your face, the keen chirp of Kenai sounds as he pounces onto the bed, rubbing his head against your cheek until you split your fingers to peer at your cat lovingly. “You have already eaten, you brute. Let me simmer in sadness please.”

Eventually you give in, petting him before you find your eyelids heavily craving slumber. It is the next day when you awaken to sunshine pouring through the blinds casting dancing shadows upon your bedspread. Kenai’s fur tickles your cheek where he has cuddled cozily to you, which is the usual with your cat, and gazing fondly at your furry friend, you blindly pat your desk to grasp your phone to sneak a Snapchat. “Don’t you move, KiKi.” Angling the phone, you take a photo, posting to your story to show off how precious your animal is. You were so lucky when you found your cat. After the devastating blow to the chest a year prior, the first thing you did was visit a shelter not far from Monnie’s house in search of the first animal to win your heart.

In all honesty, they all did, but one look at the small fluff puff, pressing his paws against the glass, meowing for you to notice him was all it took. He purred the moment your hands wrapped around his small body, his cold nose sniffing along your face that was stained with tears. He was the little superhero besides your sister that you needed to find some form of healing. Kenai hasn’t left your side, and he refuses to. You never knew a cat could love you so much, even on the nights you wake up with him sprawled across your trachea. His love may be smothering, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Kissing the side of his head, his sleepy eyes remain out the window where birds zip past to distract him. Throwing the covers off you, the number one thing you do is brush your teeth, changing into your work clothes, and tying your hair up out of your vision. Kenai eventually follows you with all the hopes of getting his breakfast which you prepare, and before shuffling into your tennis shoes, you check your phone where your eyes enlarge to the rising beat of your heart.

Jeongguk is typing….

“What the hell?” You mouth. The guy from yesterday added you on Snapchat? How? The only thing you can think is your phone happened to be unlocked unless he was able to open the picture app to scan his Snapchat code. Either way, you are not wanting to admit how pleasantly surprised you are, and when the familiar tone of the Snapchat alerts his official message, you hold yourself back from replying to him too quickly.

It's an exuberantly strange feeling, how giddy one can become all because of a mere message of someone where their interest lies. And the nervous tingles at the bottom of your stomach ignite as you ponder every and any scenario involving the mysterious lad. You have yet to reply, nor do you have any clue what to expect, but you deeply hold nothing but genuine curiosity of how this may play out. Will he be interested in you? Are you ready for someone to be interested in you? That may be the more accurate question. Hoseok hurt you beyond words, but will Jeongguk do the same if you do end up finding him enchanting? What if he doesn’t think you are enough? With all the women in the world, it seems that you can’t hold a guy down enough to seem worth it. Stop it. Wincing, you grit your teeth knowing the negativity needs to end now. Of course, you are enough. You have always been enough, and nobody should make you doubt otherwise. “Anyone who doesn’t see the good in you is at a loss. You are literally the epitome of kindness,” Monnie’s words repeat in your head, uplifting you enough to focus your mind on other matters. Like, preparing your brain cells for the workday ahead.

Finicking with your uniformed red vest, you greet a fellow coworker with a smile, “Good morning, LenLen! Is it five o’clock yet?”

Giggling, LenLen’s face lights up at your question as she finishes folding a pair of jeans to set upon a display. “It is somewhere.”

“Good point,” walking the isles of the store to tidy up the shelves, you can’t help but wonder if it has been long enough since Jeongguk messaged you. Giving it another ten minutes to ensure the coast is clear of customers, you sneak into the breakroom, unlocking your phone to see what he said. You are appalled at yourself for being so consumed in the fact that a guy you just met has taken time out of his day to reach out to you and you wish you could maintain your cool.

‘Dude, your cat looks just like my hellion, Flounder.’

Smiling at what you have read, you click to save the message, so you don’t forget what is being talked about once you exit the snapchat, and you are nearly losing your mind when Jeongguk’s Bitmoji appears a few seconds after you start typing. Uncertain of what else to say, you respond with, ‘Prove it.’ GAH! You grimace, that’s what you have to say? Prove it? Beating yourself up, you forget to breathe the moment the red icon shows that Jeongguk has sent a picture of what you are assuming is his cat. Opening it with the click of your thumb, you are amazed how identical Flounder and Kenai are even considering they could be potential siblings, what a small world right? ‘First off, LOVE the name’, you reply, also realizing you are blushing because also within the picture, a side profile of Jeongguk shows that he is smiling.

Knowing you will have to return to the floor soon, you decide to let Jeongguk send at least one more message before you have to be a responsible adult. ‘Right? It was either Sushi, Tuna, or Sardine, but I thought Flounder would be more fitting and unique. Tetra is my other cat and she’s the worst about stealing my food.’

‘Sounds like Kenai can finally make some friends! And attempt to steal a morsel alongside.’

Typing out the message, you hesitate to send, but with the shared love of felines you honestly feel as though Jeongguk will not overanalyze your reply. Anxious for lunch break, you handle the hours with ease, conversing with LenLen from time to time to figure out who has done what on the chores list. LenLen speaks of a guy that she met recently, with a square jawline and hair as curly as a bowl of ramen noodles, yet his bright smile is what drew her to him. You talk of how happy you are for her and hope for the best, chickening out to tell her about Jeongguk, especially with it being, in your opinion, extremely too soon to mention.

Retrieving your food, you hide away in the breakroom where your eyes immediately glue to your cellular device anticipating whatever Jeongguk has said. ‘Hell yeah, my babies would love that, they do very well with other animals, surprisingly. Hey, sorry I left so soon yesterday, something came up.’

‘It takes a bit for Kenai to warm up, but he will adapt just fine. All he cares about is his stomach being full. No need to apologize, I totally get it.’ Eyebrows furrowed; you can’t help the wonder of what made him leave so soon. Also, you are not one to press further, if he wants to explain himself then he will. Otherwise, you hope that everything is okay with him.

It has only been a few days when you enter the coffee shop again, making it obvious that it indeed is your favorite, and you are shocked the employees don’t know you by name yet. Or so you assume. It is when you see Jeongguk taking a sip of his drink searching for an empty table, your heart leaps as if on cue. You are starting to assume that maybe he is a recent frequenter of this same coffee shop too. Why else have you seen him twice in the span of a few days? You’ve never noticed him here before this week, so now you wonder if he recently moved to the city. His leather jacket hugs his frame as his hair is styled to his liking. You hardly notice the way your mouth waters instinctively and you snap back into focus when you are next in line.

Pretending you didn’t notice Jeongguk, you decide to find a seat a short distance away just in case by some chance he acknowledges you. With coffee in hand, you pick a spot and not even sixty seconds later, you hear the familiar click notification of someone typing on Snapchat. Jittery, which you wish wasn’t so obvious, you carefully reach for your phone seeing: Jeongguk is typing… lighting the screen. Without thinking, you immediately lift your gaze to see him staring at you, a mischievous smirk gracing his pink lips.

Just for his delight, you play along spinning some storybook thought that you two are forbidden lovers hiding from the community by texting instead of speaking to one another in person. Get a grip, y/n, you scold yourself mentally. Opening the message, it reads: may I join you in coffee matrimony?

Shaking your head along with a breathy laugh to his cheesy statement, you respond with a pun, only if you keep me brewing, Tatts!

The creak of his chair echoes as he slides it back. Shyly, you hold his stare, watching him and his thick boots walk to settle into the chair across from you. “Clever,” he muses, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table. Strands of his hair fall at the outer corners of his eyes, and you breathe in the faint scent of his cologne. This time, you do not get a whiff of any cigarettes, so you question if he’s even had one today. “If you’re not careful,” he deliberates, “I might have to show you what it’s like to get creamed.”

“Hm.” Arching an eyebrow, you catch on to his game, and if he wasn’t so damn alluring, you wouldn’t even give this conversation another thought with anybody else, “You better hope it tastes as sweet as sugar.” He doesn’t expect you to say that. He may have had women fall hopelessly at his feet, and as much as you feel you might be the next one, you definitely aren’t going to show it. Not right now.

“I hear that the ladies like it steamy.”

“Or iced,” you shrug nonchalantly. Ice play has always been a curiosity of yours, but he doesn’t have to know that. When he doesn’t seem to come up with another pun, you chew the corner of your lip before you lean onto the table yourself, inching as close as you can that the table between you two will allow. “Tell me, Boots, how is it… that a guy with this tough exterior can be so delicately precious about his cats?”

He gestures with his hands. “What can I say? I have to set a good example.”

You harrumph humorously. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

He feigns surprise. “You think I am incapable of being a good role model to my children?”

“Oh please. All you have to do is keep their food bowls filled to the brim and you’ve already won dad of the year.”

Jeongguk winks, bringing his hands together to interlace his fingers reminding you of the tattoos you wish you can visualize more. “Easy peasy lemon squeezy,” he smirks.

You have a hard time breaking his gaze, but you clear your throat when it lingers a bit too long. “Anyways,” you attempt to change the subject, “I hope all is well.” You’re really hinting about why he left so suddenly the last time but knowing men do not always pick up on hints, you know you will accept whether he gets what you mean or not.

“Seeing that you put your clothes on right today, my OCD hasn’t been triggered.”

“Happy to see I’ve made a difference in your life.” You playfully sneer.

“It’s the little things that count.”

You feel your uterus squeeze. How the fuck is he so damn attractive for? “I’ll keep that in mind every time I dress.” You say it too quickly without thinking, your cheeks glimmering blood red. He quirks an eyebrow tauntingly.

“I can always help.”

“Nice try, Cigs.”

Except… You want him to try. That itching desire travels through your chest, and you wonder maybe… just maybe, you can get his help. Not necessarily with getting dressed because you swear you are competent to do so, but… maybe he can cure the curse of loneliness, even if it’s just for the moment. You want to deny that you hope it will be much more than just this moment. You can’t explain any of this. Are you trying to impress him?

Uncrossing your ankles underneath the table, you do slide your feet forward taking the tip of your boot to tickle up his leg and you can’t help the smirk that graces your lips when he sucks in a hiss. There’s a tad bit of space on the chair where you place your boot, gracefully taking your other foot to nestle on the other side of his hips. You don’t know what is taking over you, but it’s divine, and now you can’t stop yourself especially with his eyes tempting for you to continue. “I’m gonna need help with more than-”

“How’s it going?”

You jolt, boots slamming to the ground when your wide eyes shoot to see a smiling employee who clearly is going from table to table to check on customers. Stammering, you lick your lips while Jeongguk tries not to laugh in response to your sudden shock. “Goo-good!” You plaster a wide smile while the employee bows swiftly to then waltz to the next table as if they didn’t intrude on your façade to win over this incredibly attractive man across from you. Fuck, you grimace. How embarrassing.

When coffees are finished and downed in clumsy silence, you reach for a stick of gum, offering Jeongguk a piece so you don’t feel so insecure about the coffee breath. He offers to walk you home, but you tell him the bookstore is where you plan to be next. You’re not ready to go home because home is where you will replay the humiliation of what just happened repeatedly. You need a distraction.

Side by side, the pair of you set off down the alley, your nerves still shooting through your limbs while anxiety of what to talk about tackles your brain cells. You’re really trying to forget already, but it’s too fresh to just repress. Maybe there is a sliver of comfort with the silence, but of course, you overthink that as well because when do you not overthink?

You know what? You saw the pleasure in his eyes, there wasn’t a smidge of doubt in his expression when his body responded to you in the coffee shop. Noting that the alley is empty, you take the opportunity. If he wasn’t the slightest bit into you, he wouldn’t be adamant on making sure you arrive to your next location safely. But you need to think fast before you exit the alley. “Cigs!” You blurt. He stops the second you do. The gravel beneath his boots being the last sound you hear before adrenaline takes over.

Your hands grip the front of his leather jacket and when he clues in, as if rehearsed, his large hands grasp your hips, walking you backwards until your back gently bumps against the brick building. His gaze is intense as if preparing you what you are asking for while your mouth parts in yearning for whatever he is about to do. He over towers you, and your eyes never move even when his palms slide to your waist, his shaky exhales leaving his nostrils. His lips are pressed together. When you think he’s about to kiss you, he slams his eyes shut, shifting nothing but his forehead to lean to yours as your eyes flutter closed. Waiting.

Tingles resonate across your skin and the longing is immensely strong, you don’t want to hold back. You hadn’t realized that the back of your hands are against the brick wall as if you have surrendered to him. In a way, you have. The seconds feel like minutes, and when you think he will finally connect with your body, he pulls away. His hands ghost your waist.

For some reason, you keep your eyes closed. His lips then brush warmly to your forehead and with that, you hear the crunch of his footsteps disappearing as he did the first time you met. Your eyes peel open, and it’s like Jeongguk is a figment of your imagination because now:

he’s gone.

You never expected to hear from him again, but as days pass, it’s crazy how one person can enrapture the entirety of your thoughts even with the distractions from work because Jeongguk has mastered it for you. And that is how it has been the rest of the week, giddily waiting on his every text and enjoying every bit of the conversations shared between you two as if the sexual tension in the alley never happened. Eagerly, you toss and turn at night due to the cycle of daydreams rehearsing in your mind rent free, but you can’t help yourself, you love to imagine the possibilities of a real adventure with someone you want to spend time with again. If it ever happens.

“You’re glowing.” Monnie’s eyes squint as you grin away to the kitchen, opening the refrigerator for an electrolyte drink.

“I… cleansed my face?”

“No, it’s not that.”

Teasingly scoffing, you take a swig of your drink, “I... am… expecting?”

“Nice try,”

You nearly choke on the second sip, “C’mon, it’s not that impossible. You don’t know my schedule.”

“I know it enough to know that you haven’t missed a birth control shot since you became physically intimate, and that was practically decades ago.”

“You can just say sex you know,” you retaliate, “And for your information, I had sex last year.”

“Yeah, practically decades ago.”

“Fine. Ten or so excruciatingly long years ago, I had sex.”

“So, in conclusion, you are not with child.”

“Yet,” you ploy, letting Monnie glare at you as she slowly steps out of the kitchen. Who are you kidding? You don’t have time for kids, and you know it. Despite what your uterus wants, you do have to find a stable time to want to produce so for now, you shall wait until the time is right. Hence, why you remain on birth control until you know for sure. Otherwise, life goes on as always. Besides… you do recall the last time you had sex. And… it wasn’t with Hoseok. A secret you will take to your grave if you have to. A secret that happened one drunken night weeks after you and Hoseok broke up. And, you never went back hence why it has been a year since you’ve had sex.

You had guilt as if you cheated on Hoseok even though you did not in fact. Either way, you throw the memory into the depths of your mind and try to force yourself to forget how plush the man’s lips felt along your skin. Instead, you replace it with the brief kiss Jeongguk left on your forehead which feels so out of reach.

During the time of messaging back and forth, one evening, Jeongguk offers to call you due to an atrocious event happening at your workplace that you and LenLen got involuntarily involved in. A customer apparently read a sales sign wrong and didn’t realize it until checkout and no matter how much you and your coworker tried explaining things, the customer was not having it which leaves you to call a manager. Overall, it was a situation that unfolded that you honestly wished didn’t hover in your brain cells, but when Jeongguk calls so you can rant, it means the world.

“You are quite attractive and that’s one hundred percent a compliment, and I’m not one to just throw those around to male specimens.” You confess after long conversation. It’s like you moved on from the awkward interactions. Plus, you convince yourself that you came on too strong the last time you saw him.

He snickers on the other line and vividly you imagine his smile, tickling your tummy like the beating wings of multiple butterflies. “Why, thank you. You definitely have my attention, too, ya know.”

“Well…’ You press the knuckle of your thumb to your bottom lip for a second, “That’s very sweet of you to say.”

“And you also deserve to be respected. I’m sorry the customer gave you and your friend such a hard time. If retail is no longer what you want to do, my stepbrother owns a well-known bookstore. I remember you mentioning your love for books at one point and I’m sure he will offer good pay.”

“You would do that for lil’ ole’ me?”

Chuckling lightly, “Anybody with a smart mouth like yours needs a break too.”

“Oh shucks,” though he can’t see it, your cheeks flush a hot shade of red. “Consider me interested! I may give the store some more time since I don’t want to leave LenLen stranded so abruptly, otherwise, I might put in an application just cause.”

“I’ll keep my stepbrother posted.”

You thank him before you decide to head to bed, dazed on cloud nine as you hang up the phone.

It doesn’t matter how busy you are, the second you see the: Jeongguk is typing…. Notification it’s:

Halt. Stop everything and scramble to unlock the phone screen. Breathe. He is just a guy. He is just a dude with tattoos. Okay, must read message in sixty seconds to not seem desperate. Force yourself to Google search ‘kittens’ to distract your frantic desire to reply immediately to his every text. Does it work? Partially.

So…. I was wondering, would you happen to be off in the next few days? It’s been a minute.

Double take. Eyes enlarged. No way. Inhale. Release. Slowly but clearly, you reread the Snapchat message as if your life depends on it. How long has it been since you two have been messaging back and forth? Maybe a few weeks? But how should you respond? Maybe not as excited so you don’t appear deprived? Or seem super excited so that he knows you are most definitely wanting to meet up? You were super proud of yourself with how contained you stayed when he called you however long ago. Nay, appear neutral. Come across dainty with a sprinkle of bad ass, that’ll get him…. Right? Okay, maybe not.

Funny you ask because I happen to be off today. Send. You squeal internally. You genuinely can’t help how stoked you are in seeing him; the next question is, what is his idea of fun aside from the coffee shop? You are honestly up for anything even if it’s admiring the night sky on a roof with glasses of wine. Or, admiring his tattoos and him explaining the meanings of each one. You have always wanted to get a tattoo yourself but have yet to decide not only what to get but when the right time will be. As with anything, you want the first time to be special. That’s what she said, as you roll your eyes at yourself. Your uterus sure likes to talk, and you really hope you can keep yourself tame once you see him again because a year of no intimacy is already hard enough; and you atrociously hate admitting that you sometimes become lonely for a partner even though healing this past year has been a roller coaster. Even trying to avoid the temptation to reach out… to the last man you entangled with.

Shuddering with guilt, you stroll to the kitchen upon waiting for Jeongguk’s response, and you notice beneath a magnet the card the driver, Jimin, had given you forever ago. The day you met Jeongguk. Carefully shifting it out from under the magnet, an idea does form. Maybe Jeongguk would like to meet you there at the opening. Does he seem like a ‘bar’ type kinda guy? Oh. You wince. What does that even mean? Who doesn’t like a bar setting with a few beers? Plus, it’s been a while since you’ve been to one so why not?

Well today is our lucky day for I happen to have the next 12 hours to find something fun to do. Whaddya say about joining me?

Bring it on, Cigs. You respond and despite the nervous jitters, you type more after the initial message you sent. I actually promised to go to an opening of a new bar that happens to be tonight. If I send the address, would you like to meet me there?

When he asks for the time and where, you send the information. You will get to see him tonight. Now all you can do is panic about what to wear and if you even have anything to wear for the occasion.

Fantastic.

Quivering fingers amidst clammy palms slide across the tops of your thighs while you steadily breathe. You, being the early bird that you are, arrive at the bar a few minutes earlier than what you mentioned to Jeongguk. The last you heard from him was when you both finalized the plan. To calm the nerves, you definitely need a drink. A strong one. Your maroon dress clings to your frame the way you like, and you made sure your make up was exactly how you like it to be.. You haven’t felt this confident since you left your ex. And you hope this proves that you never need a man to help you dress.

You ordered a cab to get there so you didn’t have to worry about driving, and you figure if you and Jeongguk still hit it off in person as you do through messaging, then maybe he can make sure you get home safely. So, you hope. Maybe even make up for lost time since the alley.

Sending a quick message to let Jeongguk know you have arrived; your eyes observe your surroundings, and you don’t see him anywhere just yet. Maybe he is stuck in traffic? You wonder. If he is driving, obviously he shouldn’t message you, so you show your ID to the bouncer after standing in line for a few minutes letting the uneasiness settle.

Bodies are scattered among the floor as music blares throughout the building. Laughter and the smell of alcohol is the first thing that comes to your nostrils while your eyes trail for some familiar faces if any happen to be here. Colorful flashing lights wave over the tables, walls, and chairs while people dance continuously, and you really hope despite the overall dim lighting you recognize Jeongguk the second he walks in. Regardless, you search for Jimin since he is the one who invited you, but you haven’t seen him thus far.

Swallowing down the nerves, you squeeze through the crowd until you reach the bar, asking for something strong for you to sip on until Jeongguk arrives. It’s been about ten minutes once your drink is in your hand, and when you check your phone, Jeongguk still hasn’t read the message. You contemplate phoning him, but know it’s too loud to try, so you assure yourself he will be here. You have full confidence that he will call you if he is running late. Which… technically at this point he should have called you by now.

To divert yourself from the sinking feeling, you watch the bustles of people having the time of their lives when a particular human being causes your shoulders to stiffen and your mouth to run dry. Flashbacks of that night flicker in your mind as a weary sense of dread subdues you. The secret you have kept concealed from the world. Stay calm, y/n. Remain. Calm. You hardly remember how you got there, but you noticed how handsome he was, how his hair was loosening from the gel, and his smile put you at ease as you two laughed together. He was drunk, too, but both of you were still aware enough to know what was happening. What was stirring between you two. All you held onto was how he was the first to make you laugh in weeks during that time.

You knew you shouldn’t have been there, but you didn’t care, and you were desperate to feel something. Freshly single and overruled by anger, you let it win. When you kissed him for the first time, he froze, and you pulled away. But he held your eyes, flitting between them without a single word. Instead, he leaned forward and kissed you back, and you remember the way his palm felt on your cheek. The way the kisses grew aggressive and emotional as if he felt the guilt from keeping the secret buried from you. Knowing his best friend was in the wrong for what he did to you, but he knew it wasn’t his place to tell you the truth. But boy, had you made it your place to entangle with this guy who was giving into what his emotions were displaying. He wanted you to feel special. It was like his kisses brought an apology you wished your ex would have given you.

So, in a strange yet erotic way, you let it all go with him. Drunken, slovenly kisses until the pair of you started to sober up enough to experiment further. You can’t remember much of the foreplay, but you do, however, remember when he pressed himself into you, riding smoothly as he kissed every inch of your face and your neck. His hands didn’t exactly know where to touch, but his lips did, and that was enough. He moved in you so gently.

When you had awaken the next morning, you laid flat on your back while tears streamed from the corners of your eyes. You don’t know how long you remained there. You don’t know how long you silently cried. But you left before he woke up. You left before you both had to take in account of what you two had done. What you two had shared.

Now here he is in the present.

Kim Namjoon, Hoseok’s best friend, is here, and he spots you almost as immediately as you spot him. Gulping, you do not know what else to do other than spin around immediately and face the bar contemplating to chug every ounce of the alcohol remaining in your glass. Setting your drink down cautiously to not spill the contents, a rear of nausea raises its ugly head. What is Namjoon doing here!? The last time you saw him was the night you would do anything to forget.

Heart hammering, you squeeze your eyes closed. Namjoon may have given you a good night to hold on to for a while a year ago, but it wasn’t anything more than that. It couldn’t be. You were full of anger and a brief desire of revenge, and you were drunk, and you were-

Large hands lean upon the counter of the bar on either side of you as you suck in a breath. You recognize those hands. Those hands are the ones that slid along your body while you pleaded for more. And the countenance of his frame over towers you as you feel the tip of his lips centimeters from your ear kindling goosebumps along your arms. But these hands aren’t the hands you’ve been waiting for. Not one tattoo shows on these hands.

“Long time, no see.” Namjoon says into your ear. Mustering enough courage after steadying yourself, you turn to face him for the first time in a year. His eyes are as filled with longing as they were the night you last saw him. The kind of longing that wonders of how you feel about what occurred. If you still ponder it.

“What are you doing here!?” You say amongst your trembling body. You try to stay firm though you know deep down none of this was Namjoon’s fault. Trying to set your jaw, you take in the way his shirt tugs at his muscles, and the way his hair is gelled to perfection. You have forgotten how beautiful this man is, but Jeongguk. Where the literal fuck is Jeongguk? He is who you want deep down. So where is he? “Never mind that,” you shake your head, realizing he has every right to be here as you do. “What do you want?”

Namjoon’s eyes flicker along your face momentarily before he speaks. The way his dominant gaze holds you in place could drive any woman mad. “To make sure you’re okay.”

“Oh bullshit.” You say through gritted teeth because not only is Namjoon’s proximity bringing unwanted emotions, but it is also bringing the memories of Hoseok. Memories you really have tried not to relive.

Namjoon’s eyes squeeze shut. “y/n, I’m being serious. You fell off the face of the earth since…”

“Since what? Since Hoseok? Or you?” His mouth shuts automatically. “I don’t know what you expect me to say. What happened that night… It was my fault. I know that, but it shouldn’t have happened.” The anger for even saying Hoseok’s name after so long of refusing to is a strange feeling. Namjoon swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing, and you visibly see the guilt in his eyes because he agrees. Hoseok has been his best friend since they were kids. “How long had you known by the way? About the other girl? Who is she?” He releases a sigh, shaking his head while he tilts his gaze downward in shame. He knows. Of course, he does. He’s refusing to answer the question, but you ask another one anyway. You know it’s too loud to whisper, and from your peripheral, you may have gained a few stares, but you raise your voice just enough for Namjoon to hear. “Does… he know?”

“That we fucked?” Namjoon answers quickly, his eyes locking with yours. “Of course not.” He’s not going to risk losing his friendship is what you are reading between the lines.

“Good.” You refuse to move your gaze. “Keep it that way. Please.” He’s still so close. And you breathe in his scent. Your hand brushes his chest, while your forehead touches to his chin. Both of you share a silent understanding. A pact.

Namjoon is about to say more but you politely shove his arm out of your way ignoring his reach to stop you. You’re scared that you will give in to the thought of him from all these emotions. Whatever he has to say, he can keep it to himself. For now. You need to catch your breath.

Checking your phone, Jeongguk still hasn’t read your message and at this point, you have no idea of where he is or why he even bothered agreeing to show up if he truly had no intentions of seeing you again. Maybe you should have known better. He has the bad boy persona just from his stature, but maybe for once you wanted to believe you could get excited about someone again. Maybe he was the distraction you hoped for and needed, and now that your nerves are shot, and your heart is aching from all the emotions, you’ll do anything at this point to rid of it all.

Regretfully forgetting your drink at the bar and realizing after you move to another section of the place, you happen to see Jimin whose face lights up with recognition. Air escapes your lungs yet again because you forgot how attractive he is too. You notice he has been conversing with none other than Kim Seokjin which makes you want to faint since he is so famous and you have yet to meet a famous person, but for right now, despite the tears wanting to spill down your cheeks from the interaction with Namjoon and the acceptance that Jeongguk will not be showing up after all, you are so thankful that Jimin is making his way towards you. Until your emotions settle, you cannot risk humiliating yourself in front of a celebrity of Seokjin’s status. It would be too much.

Your jaw almost drops though when you catch a sudden glimpse of your coworker LenLen who is snug against a man with fluffy hair a short distance away, and you realize that this must be the man she’s been talking to you about! You tell yourself that you will make sure to say hey to her if you get the chance. It’s about time other conversation is shared that is not related exclusively to work.

“Hey there!” Jimin smiles fully, bringing your muddled mind back to attention. He leans in for a quick hug before pulling away. “You look amazing!”

Blushing, you feel where his fingers stop at your elbows. He has such a kind aura about him that makes you feel safe, so you hope he invites you to hang out, especially since LenLen happens to be in the group Jimin has been socializing with from your quick assumptions. “You look good, too!” You feel like you’re shouting, but you don’t care. You are somewhat relieved to finally have somebody to hang out with no matter how quick it lasts. “How is the opening going? Everything go according to plan?”

“Hell, yeah it has!” Jimin beams. “Taehyung is beyond happy with the results. The line outside is insanity!”

“So happy for you both!” You say, and before you think you may have some form of solace, you wonder where Namjoon is or if he miraculously left, but instead of him, you notice someone else. And you beg the heavens on why you can’t seem to catch a break.

Heart shattering to the floor, your eyes widen, and if Jimin is chatting, you definitely can’t hear him over the loud pounding of your heart in your temples. Is this the real reason Namjoon approached you? That he tried to stop you? To warn you?

If the forbidden person you are frozen by sees you, you don’t care, you need a reason for his heart to break. Something worse than him finding out that you slept with his best friend if he ever does. Hoseok pauses the moment he sees you standing there; a strange look of confusion dawns him instantly as his eyes look from you to Jimin and back. You can’t help the way your gaze automatically drifts to see if you find her, too. The girl he chose over you, but you do not see a female near him. Not yet. You tell yourself that you never want to know who she is, but there is always that sick vengeance of discovering.

Jimin’s eyebrow arches as he follows your gaze. Whether he knows Hoseok or not, that part is the least of your concerns. Jeongguk stood you up, Namjoon confronted you, and your ex-boyfriend who you loved for three years that relentlessly ripped your heart out of your chest- is here and it is too overwhelming to describe right now the full-blown panic shredding every fiber of your being; the utter disbelief how this shit show of a night has unfolded. You wish you were drunk enough to ignore this inexplainable pain. You wish you had a place to escape to.

But… Maybe Jimin is it. If Jeongguk didn’t want to be, then maybe Jimin will.

Despite his furrowed eyebrows, when Jimin turns just enough to look at you, it’s all it takes. Briskly, you cup his face, pressing a kiss to his cloud-like lips while he stumbles in surprise. Relief floods your quivering frame when he doesn’t even remotely hesitate to kiss you back. His lips are enticingly soft and pure, and he tilts his head to deepen the kiss letting the tip of his tongue brush yours ever so slightly. He tastes of peppermint and booze, and he tastes so good, you get tipsy just off his lips. You move your hands to lock behind his neck while his fingers find a hold on your waist. “Well damn,” he says breathless against your lips while peppering short kisses in between his words. “If I would have known, I would have done this much sooner.”

Gripping loose strands on the back of his head, you lift onto the tips of your toes. “You won’t regret it,” you purr into Jimin’s ear, gaze tauntingly floating to stare right into Hoseok’s, whose eyes widen in enormous shock, before Jimin pins you to his frame as if your clothes are a barrier he wishes didn’t exist. Everywhere is too crowded to really notice the way you two lock lips for majority of the evening. And you are well aware that you two are not the only ones making out.

You know Hoseok is watching every second, probably fuming, probably balling his fists, probably justifying every reason he has to interrupt. You hope he is watching every grip of Jimin’s fingers on your ass, the way his lips suck your neck, or the way he twirls your body under the spotlight if a song he likes comes on. You know the jealousy that’s bubbling beneath Hoseok’s chest is about to erupt. But he also knows better than to intervene between the woman he betrayed and who he is assuming to be her new boyfriend. Because it’s too late. You wouldn’t take him back even if he begged. Because whoever she is out there, she knows what she did to you, too. How she couldn’t even show her face when Hoseok burst onto the porch the day you found out. How her breasts were rounded beneath Hoseok’s shirt. The shirt you painfully remembered was missing when you finally had a moment where your emotions didn’t get the best of you. She had that shirt the entire time.

You hadn’t planned to invite Jimin over. The night drives on and you see that Jeongguk at this point, indeed, read your message, but didn’t bother to respond. Didn’t bother to even make an excuse. To explain why he left you to unintentionally fend for yourself. He could have been here. He could have saved you from tonight if he wanted to. But he didn’t.

You hop into Jimin’s car willingly and he drives you home, kissing you and kissing you while your clothes hit the bedroom floor. Jimin slides on a condom before he pushes into you from behind when your body pins to the wall, him pounding as if to the beat of a song while his teeth dig into your shoulder, into your neck. “Deeper!” You squeal. “Keep going, ah-!”

You do not care about the sounds that have echoed from either of your mouths or the number of positions you two have attempted. You lost count after four. You don’t care that you just met him a few weeks ago. You don’t care how you are going to feel in the morning. Yes, you are aware that you are sober this time. But you want Jimin to keep moving inside you until you forget about your one-night stand with your ex’s best friend. Till you forget about Hoseok’s betrayal that haunts your mind and shreds your heart. Till you forget about the girl who took part in ruining your life. Till you forget about the tattooed man who you hoped would rescue you.

Cigs.

Fuck you, Cigs.

The morning comes quickly coupled with a pounding headache while you groggily stretch your arms and legs amidst the tangled bed sheets. You accidentally brush warm skin causing you to jolt upright. Wincing, the pounding in your head worsens, yet you turn just enough to assess that you one hundred percent just hooked up with the hot driver who co-owns a bar and is best friends with a celebrity.

Fuck.

Your palms slap to your face. You weren’t even intoxicated, so how could you let this happen? You may not have been drunk off your ass, but you sure as hell were emotional and that can be equally as dangerous as taking shots of the strongest alcoholic beverage out there. “Shit,” you murmur to yourself, watching the slow fall and rise of Jimin’s breathing. Kenai chirps outside your bedroom door and you realize it is probably past his breakfast time. Slipping out of bed as quietly as you can, you freshen up and brush your teeth. Twice. Just in case if you ultimately decide to continue this rendezvous before you kick Jimin out.

Shuddering, you wonder how loud you might have been last night. And by that you mean, was your sister home? And did she hear the commotion you let out the second you got Jimin alone? If she was home maybe, you could handle that truth. What also concerns you is if Yoongi was home too. You couldn’t bear facing the two of them if they were home while you tackled Jimin like a football player between the sheets.

Oh, when will all this humiliation end!? You want to scream outwardly. It’s been never ending. And, when you start to dress into a nightgown, you finger at the red mark on your shoulder. A reminder of where Jimin had been. And you hate that you like it.

Leaving the bathroom trying to rid the thought, you see Jimin is fully awake and putting on his shirt, his pants already hugging his toned legs. His hair is unkempt from the night before, and it looks cuter that way with his array of colors dyed with the blonde. “Hey there,” he smiles brightly when he sees you. You notice him pop a piece of gum in his mouth which you figure is because he never planned to bring a toothbrush… Because he hadn’t planned to sleep with anybody until you ferociously pounced.

“Hey,” You reply softly, crossing your arms to lean against the door frame of the bathroom. Kenai is still meowing outside the bedroom, frequently pawing at the door.

“Somebody’s pissed.” Jimin chuckles, pointing at the door.

“He’s starving 24/7 and likes to remind me just as often.” You kid, eventually stepping to sit on the bed. You aren’t sure how to feel about last night. But at the same time, should you regret it? The way Jimin’s eyes swept your body, to be honest, you kind of don’t regret it. “How did you sleep?” You try to make small talk to prevent any uneasy friction.

“Wonderfully.” He smiles again. “I hope you did?” He stands, rounding the bed to gently take a seat next to you. The smell of mint from his gum wafting to you tempting you to taste it.

“I did.” You return his smile, leaning in to touch a small kiss to his plush lips. Your headache is starting to dull some which makes you feel better. “Thank you for last night. I had fun.” You lean your forehead against his cheek as he leans back into you.

“I had fun, too.” He says quietly. Taking in a deep breath, he stands as you follow suit. “I better get going. Taehyung has been blowing up my phone wondering where I am. Really, I mean it when I say I had fun. Maybe… we can link up again soon?”

Hand in hand, you lead him to the front door while Kenai excitingly runs his furry body against both of your legs. Giggling, you kiss Jimin some more, “I’d like that.” A couple more kisses and you smile against his lips, “See ya.”

“See ya.” He nods, kissing your cheek one last time before taking off. As much as you wish that your heart would be soaring through the sky: it doesn’t. All your head can seem to obsess over is why Jeongguk stood you up. Was it all a game? Just to get a high that a girl wanted him, just for him to leave her stranded. What gives? In the end, is it really worth the explanation? You are so sick of getting screwed over.

“Who was that?”

“GAH!” You jump causing Kenai to dash wherever he can to hide. Your heart nearly stopped beating and your hand flies to your chest with relief when you see the teasing stare of your sister, Monnie.

“Monnie! For goodness sakes, you scared the fuck out of me!”

“Well!?” Monnie, not missing a beat, bellows. “Who was he!?”

“Nobody.” That is your first response as if you need a defense mechanism.

“Nobody!? With the animalistic sounds I heard last night, you have the absolute nerve to tell me that was nobody!?”

“He’s… He’s a guy I met a few weeks ago,” you try to reply while your heartbeat attempts to calm.

“He is cute,” she coos. “Like smooth like butter cute. Like the butter you slab on a piece of crisp toast cute. He can make anybody feel warm and fuzzy. Girl, I’m telling you right now-”

“Okay, we get it! I know.” You aren’t sure how to cope with the chagrin reddening your cheeks, or the dulling headache on top of it, but you manage somehow. “Please tell me Yoongi isn’t here.”

“Lucky for you he’s at a conference and has been since yesterday afternoon, so he didn’t hear a thing. I was supposed to go but I got-” She mimics what is supposed to be a cough into her hand. “Sick.”

“Oh! You are ridiculous!”

“It’s called, my sister brought home a cute guy for the first time in a decade, and I must hear all about it.”

“Nope!” You say trying to brush past her. “By the way, it’s only been a year.”

“Not anymore-!”

“Gah!” You clap back, slamming your bedroom door, and diving onto your bed, the mattress bounces your body while you scream heavily into a pillow. The scent of Jimin is everywhere in your room still and your sister’s voice keeps rattling on about how she just wants you to be happy and that you deserve to be even though in your heart, you have no idea when that day will come. Eventually you will confide in her about everything, but for now you will bury your face into the pillow and let the tears flow until you fall back asleep.

Monnie reluctantly gives you space, but only because she has ‘somewhere to be,’ and she is ‘not going to let you make her late.’ So, she says. You give Kenai an extra bit of food in hopes to win back his forgiveness and you dress out of the nightgown considering another trip to the coffee shop. Your eyes burn slightly from the crying earlier. After last night, you happen to note that you never got Jimin’s number which is probably a good thing so he can avoid the hot mess of thoughts spinning profusely in your mind. Between seeing Namjoon and Hoseok last night and hooking up with Jimin, you can hardly imagine what the two could have said after seeing, not only you, but you sucking faces with another guy. Though it’s nice to have male attention from time to time, you didn’t expect it all to unravel at once.

Some people would make you feel so stupid for your actions while others would praise you for being so bold and independent. You’re single and you can do whatever you want. Are you really mad that you hooked up with Jimin last night? Out of desperation for running into your ex? Or are you more broken about Jeongguk standing you up, and ashamed that you are upset about it when you only have seen him twice?

You can’t help the way you feel. You inhale and exhale deeply. Running from your thoughts is all you want right now.

Entering the coffee shop, you ordered a cab and left a tip because you really despise driving, and here you are in line eventually ordering the same drink you got last time. Why you feel to look for Jeongguk, you wish you didn’t. Training your eyes to focus on what is in front of you- you grip the coffee cup once it’s placed on the counter, and you find a small table in the back away from as many people as you can avoid.

He has his reasons, but you really hope that the reasons weren’t to play with your feelings purposefully. Even though that’s exactly what it looks like. Inwardly, you accept that you probably will never see him again, and you also convince yourself that maybe Jeongguk really was a figment of your imagination. The messages on your phone will say otherwise, but for now, with the hot liquid of your coffee stinging your tongue, you will continue convincing yourself that he is a simple figment of your imagination.

That thought lasts about thirty minutes, when your coffee is halfway downed and the view of a tatted hand glides upon the table where you feel your throat shrink. No fucking way. You keep your gaze on your coffee cup, the faint smell of a cigarette wafts in your direction and you refuse to look at him. Anger blares inside you. You can tell he is gradually taking the seat across from you because it is pretty evident how rigid you are in response to his presence. He can tell you are annoyed. Maybe even furious.

“Hey…” He forces once he scoots the chair closer to the table. You stay silent. “Look, I-”

“What do you want?” You look up finally. His look is firm, but guilt stricken all at the same time. He presses his lips together. “No, really. Amuse me.” You wave a hand at him. “Was it a one night stand you wanted? Because you could have just asked.”

His eyes enlarge but only slightly. “No. No, that’s definitely not-”

“Then what? What do you want?” You rarely give him a chance to speak before you start gathering your things. To prevent unwanted attention, you toss the coffee cup into the trash can on your way out, Jeongguk on your heels. Marching toward the sidewalk that you can follow back to the city; you huff in exasperation when you feel his hand curl around your arm.

“Let go of me!” You say loudly, thrusting your arm away from him.

“Look, I’m sorry, okay. Just- just let me explain-”

“Oh, go fuck yourself.” You try to walk away.

“y/n. Please.”

You thought you lost your shit last night when you attacked Jimin’s mouth in front of Hoseok. And you thought you lost your shit this morning when you sobbed into your pillow. But this anger and desperation and sadness that you have kept pent up since the day you discovered Hoseok’s infidelity is about to explode. And it’s about to explode in what you know will embarrass you for the rest of your life. Or… it just flat out won’t.

Scoffing, you pause, spinning to face Jeongguk, whose hands raise as if to calm you down, but you are far from calm. “You know what?” You say slowly. “That whole spiel about how I deserve to be respected was a whole load of bullshit wasn’t it?” You step forward making it clear that you aren’t done speaking, and though Jeongguk claimed weeks ago that he wasn’t scared of anything, there is the slightest hint of fear you gather in his eyes though he straightens to let his arms hang loosely at his sides. “I’m starting to think there’s no such thing anymore. First, after three years, with who I thought was the absolute love of my life, three years, he cheats on me with some chick I still to this day do not know who she is or how the fuck they met. So, for unplanned revenge, I fucked his best friend and guess what!?” You throw your hands up, “They both were at the bar last night. Both. Of. Them. How the fuck does that happen!? I move to the city to run away from my problems, and they follow me anyway. They fucking follow me as if I need that reminder. As if I need to relive that heartbreak over and over again. As if I deserve it- to have it thrown in my face.” Running your hands through your hair, you choke back a sob. You refuse to cry in front of this man who is basically a stranger but not really. You don’t notice the remorse showing in his eyes after revealing your limited yet very detailed confession. How he could have easily prevented this.

“I meet you once, and for the first time in a year, I finally know what it’s like to be excited again. To have something to potentially look forward to.” You laugh one syllable. “And yet, I don’t fucking know a single thing about you. Where you’re from, where you work, why you suddenly start coming to this coffee shop when I have never seen you there before, and I keep beating myself up for being so damned hurt about this when you’re a total stranger.” You can’t even look him in the eyes. “And there you are, completely leaving me stranded in a bar when you said you’d fucking be there. Respect, my ass. Have a nice life, Cigs.”

“You do deserve respect.” Oh, why do you pause? “I fucked up last night, okay!? I um…” He trails off, shaking his head as if to rid of whatever he originally was going to say. “Something came up-”

“Is that what it’s going to be every single time!? Something came up!?”

He winces when he acknowledges how bad it seems. “Look I- I know how it sounds. Please. Just let me make it up to you.”

Scanning him from his styled hair to the charcoal color of his boots, the thrilling sense of lust clouds your frame simultaneously to your mouth watering. It takes everything in you not to rush forward and cling onto him as if your life depends on it. But, at the same time, you see a guy who completely ghosted you on a night you may have needed his company most. And, if he was willing to do that to you last night, why wouldn’t he do it again?

The anger is still written all over your face and your demeanor. Sneering, your lips curl.

“No.”

And you stomp off toward whatever destination you hope to find as you did a year ago when you ran from disappointment. You wonder how it feels for him to see you walk away this time.

It doesn’t matter the day or the hour. Every time you step foot into the same coffee shop, he’s there. Jeongguk is there. Sitting a table away, keeping his eyes on you. Waiting for you to cave. You have ignored every single message he has sent. Every call he has attempted. Yet, you are also fighting the urge to just be near him. Give him another chance. Maybe it’s the fact that you truly do want to know where he was the night, he stood you up. But is it worth knowing the truth? The only thing you didn’t mention the last time you spoke to Jeongguk was the one night stand you had with Jimin. Not that it was any of Jeongguk’s business, but still. You don’t want to appear like sex with strangers is something you do all the time, because it’s not. And even if it was, it’s nobody’s business but yours.

You decide to walk the city. If he follows you there, then so be it. Compiling your things, you head out onto the sidewalk, letting the breeze nip your skin. The recent memory of LenLen asking about Jimin and you trying your best to answer her questions without blushing replays. She told you about Taehyung and how him and Jimin are best friends which you happened to already know and you relay to her how happy you are that she found Taehyung. You also apologize that you didn’t get to say hello, but she winks at you for she witnessed the reason why.

When you start reaching the city, you hardly can believe the huge sign, flashing upon the tallest building, of Hoseok’s face which roots your feet to the cement while tears spring in response. Cursing under your breath, you realize that one of the books he had been working on back when you two were together must have been released, the one he continuously spoke about. The one inspired from the script he hoped Kim Seokjin would film a movie with. The one that began with you. Which means, if it has become a success, then now you are going to see his face everywhere you turn. And, if the movie is made, that’s even more publicity Hoseok will gain and even more often you will have to see his face. The more hurt you will endure.

“Damnit,” you want to sob. Out of all the places you think to turn, you flee into the bookstore just to almost collide with a book stand filled from top to bottom with Hoseok’s novel. Fret overpowers your system, and you rush out the doors the second you see it, and you figure maybe walking home, no matter the distance, will help clear the stress out of you. Even though you know it won’t. Because at this point, you give up being in public.

You nearly slam into a figure from your rushed state and when the whiff of a cigarette mingled with cologne greets your nose, you know exactly who you’ve run into. “Why are you doing this.” It’s not a question, it’s a statement. “Why are you following me, Asshole? Did I not make myself clear?”

“I told you I wanted to make it up to you.”

“And I told you no from what I recall.”

“I have short term memory loss.”

“Oh, go fuck yourself, Nemo-”

“I’d prefer if you joined me.”

“You really are asking to get smacked.”

“I like it rather rough.”

“And I’d like for you to leave me the hell alone.”

“Not until you hear me out.”

“And why should I?”

His eyes flit between yours, “Because I can’t let it go. I messed up.”

“You don’t deserve my forgiveness if that’s what you’re implying. To be honest, it’s ridiculous that I’m even mad about it to begin with. I don’t even know you.”

“See, but you have every right to be. You should be mad.”

“Okay. Well then accept that I’m pissed at you and move on.”

“I shan’t.”

You could laugh. You almost laugh. But you hold it together because you can’t just let him think he can get away with how he just randomly leaves you stranded. When you both almost kissed in the alley way, you could sense that his desire was as solid as yours. He acted as if he wanted you. So, why did he just walk away? What is the point in pursuing someone who will always walk away?

Shoving past him, you wish you would have driven this go round so a route of escape would be available. But unfortunately, you didn’t think this through. The only place you can think of is the garden center above the bookstore that you have only visited every now and then this past year. What of Hoseok could possibly be up there? A mural? Stalking in the direction of the building, you avoid making eye contact with the huge ad about your ex, and eventually round the store to find the elevator. There are only a few floors before you reach the top and once you elbow the button to awaken the elevator, the last thing you expect is Jeongguk to follow you right in when the large doors slide open. But honestly you should have expected it.

You elbowed the button for the top floor where the smell of flowers waits for you, but you can’t ignore the tension simmering once the doors close. You bite the corner of your lip in agony, the ding of the elevator agonizingly slow. “I know you’re not about to stop and smell the roses, Eyebrow.” Referring to his eyebrow piercing that makes your insides lustfully shiver, you’re shocked he takes all your nicknames so well, but then you remember you’re supposed to be mad at him. “Why can’t you just take a hint?”

His finger presses to your lips, vanishing your words as he seductively shushes you. And he shifts to stand in front of you, his nose dangerously tickling the side of your cheek while your body fights to not react to the arousal forming below. He whispers, “I don’t need a hint to know that you want me just as much as I want you.” Whimpering, your eyes trace his face, the way his jaw curves, the way his eyes set firmly to you with no intention of moving. Did you hear him correctly? Did he just admit that he, in fact, wants you too? “So,” he continues, slipping his finger away from your lips, he brings his mouth to yours while you sigh in pleasure. Fuck. Your body begs for him to close the gap. Begs for him to kiss you. But he doesn’t. Not yet. “I suggest you behave yourself if you want to keep me tame.”

He is doing to you what you did to him that day in the coffee shop making an effort to seduce him. But this time, he is winning more than you are letting on. When the ding of the elevator brings attention to the opening doors, Jeongguk sighs, “We’re not going there.” Reaching back to hit whatever button he chooses; you don’t even move to see. He can take you wherever he wants, and you could smack yourself for conceding.

“What do you mean?” You murmur, swallowing the lump in your throat.

“I um,” he tilts his head as if embarrassed. “I live here. So, we’re going to the third floor.”

“Excuse me, what?” Your mind is trying to make the connection how it’s possible that he lives on the third floor of your favorite bookstore smack dab in the city. You’ve heard of people who have homes above the places they own, so… Does that mean Jeongguk owns the bookstore? You thought he said his stepbrother owns it? His hand finds yours when the doors slide open again, showing shelves upon shelves of books with sparse customers quietly reading or viewing the array of covers.

Your brain cells are racing but never reaching a finish line as your eyes frantically scan the hallway the pair of you are entering. You try to appreciate the feel of Jeongguk’s hand holding yours, warm and firm and surprisingly safe though you wish you hadn’t lost the will to fight. Why is it so easy for him to melt your anger away? To melt your sadness? To heighten your senses.

He scans something, you assume a card, before opening a large door, flipping on the lights to show an area of simplicity and barely any furniture to decorate once you step inside. The scent is new as if it has just been built, but you know that is impossible considering this bookstore has been around for years. Automatically, you both kick off your shoes. “My stepbrother used to live here before, so I moved in.” He says as if reading your mind. “That’s why there’s not much here, but there’s enough to keep comfortable.” He gestures toward a sofa awkwardly sitting in the middle of what you assume is the living room and loud meows start echoing the second you see a few cat towers sprawled out. Flounder and Tetra.

“I remember you saying he owns a bookstore… it’s here?” You say in disbelief as the cats come flying to greet you and Jeongguk. How can you be mad anymore when these sweet little fluff puffs are rubbing against your legs, mewing for attention? Jeongguk giggles while he tries to bring back the conversation.

He shrugs, unintentionally dismissing the sexual tension that concocted in the elevator only seven minutes ago now that the cats are out and about. “He’s an actor now. He took over when his dad retired.”

“…What do you do?” You’re quiet and you don’t mean to be, but you’ve been struggling with mixed emotions for what seems like an eternity. At this point, you accept if this is a dream versus reality.

“Nothing,” he says after a moment, head looking downward. You lick your lips when your eyebrows furrow, but strangely you understand this shame. If your sister didn’t have money, you’d be homeless. Your parents live far away, and in all honesty, you don’t truly talk to them as often as you should. You work part time at a retail store because you can’t seem to get your shit together enough to work full time otherwise, you’d be in the same boat… you’d be doing just that. Nothing. “I used to work as a tattoo artist before I moved here, but um… you may find this hard to believe, but I got my heart broken by someone I fell in love with when I was eighteen.”

“You?” You croak. You mean it to come off as a joke but fail miserably. He finally tilts his head up, softly grinning.

“Yes, a tatted asshole that wears leather and smokes cigs can be capable of falling in love and getting heartbroken instead of causing the heartbreak, Macchiato… Happy?”

Why this vulnerability is happening is unbeknownst to you, but you are very happy that he seems to be opening up. He all but admitted he wants you, too. So, the least he can do is try. Try letting you see past the mystery. Try staying instead of leaving. Saying hello instead of goodbye.

“How long were you two together?” You may have spilled the beans of how long you were with Hoseok, not that Jeongguk knows who he is, but three years is a long time.

“Five years. Found out she cheated on me, too… I lost myself for a long time. Ended up at a different girl’s house every week to numb the pain and never called them back the next day. Became addicted to smoking cigarettes. Went to parties quite a bit… Got drunk, you name it… Moved here with my children the second Jin told me I could. That’s when I finally calmed down and realized, I needed to change before it got worse.”

“I’m so sorry… Sometimes people underestimate the pain of a breakup. Especially if you were with them for such a long time as you were.” It’s quiet a little longer than you mean for it to be, but the similarity of how the two of you got your heart broken is an odd coincidence. But then you gasp when a lightbulb clicks. “Jin!? As in, Seokjin?”

“Yeah?” He says unhurriedly. “Is that hard for you to believe?”

“What? No! I’m just- the Kim Seokjin is your stepbrother? He owns this bookstore?”

“Well yeah, he’s the reason the bills are paid for now until I, myself, can get my shit together.”

You know the concentration it takes to complete a puzzle? Well, this is one of those times. Randomly, you wonder. Does Jeongguk know Jimin since Seokjin knows Jimin?

“Do you know who Jimin is?” You spit out. How are all these male specimens connected? Either way, you are definitely not telling Jeongguk about the rendezvous with Jimin that’s for sure.

His eyebrows scrunch and you visibly witness the way his shoulders rigidify as if he knows exactly who you are talking about. “How do you know Jimin?”

“No reason, just wondering. I saw him hanging out with Seokjin at the bar you failed to show up to.”

“Hm.” He hums once. “Interesting.”

“He co-owns the bar with a guy named Taehyung… My co-worker is dating him. Taehyung, I mean.” You’re having a hard time reading Jeongguk’s expression, but he attempts to not be so uptight.

“Did you… See anybody else there?”

His question hits you by surprise, but you know there is no way he could be referring to Hoseok and Namjoon… Could he? No, of course not. He wasn’t there. He doesn’t know who your ex is specifically. You may have mentioned your ex and your ex’s best friend were at the bar, but you had never given any names. It’s as if Jeongguk is asking solely about someone else… But who?

Pushing your fingertips to your forehead, you release an exasperated sigh. “Can I use your restroom?” You need a moment to yourself. All this unwanted ‘solving’ isn’t getting you anywhere. And why is Jeongguk being so weird about Jimin? He doesn’t know about the hook up and Jeongguk is also not your boyfriend, so why does it matter?

“Yeah, this way,” he points in the direction of what you assume is his bedroom. “On the right.”

The door gently clicks behind you while your palms cling onto the counter when you’re securely within the bathroom. It’s huge. You can tell it’s spacious by the fact you can breathe amidst the anxiety. A jacuzzi and a walk-in shower, a door that you are confident is a towel closet is what you take in once you twirl around. It’s beautiful and so clean, it’s as if nobody has inhabited it in a long time. Either way, you don’t want to take too long, so you pull out a small bottle of mouth wash and complete a brisk breathing exercise before filing out into Jeongguk’s bedroom.

You hadn’t taken time to notice how large his bed is either. The covers are invitingly dark, and you can tell from the curtains that are slightly split show the windows to a magnificent view of the city. Whoever Seokjin’s dad had to construct this place was an absolute genius. A home inside a bookstore, that would be a dream come true for millions.

You brace yourself when you step into the living room, and you notice Jeongguk is preparing wine glasses, a bottle of red is in his hand as he begins to pour the crimson liquid. His cats are munching on some food that he put to keep them occupied. You can tell by his body language that he is going to change the subject regarding Jimin. “How did you know?” You say ultimately when you pull out a stool in front of the counter.

“Nothing a good bit of wine can’t fix.” He winks. “Plus, I figured it will calm the nerves, so we can actually… talk.”

You nod reluctantly, fingers pressing beneath the glass before you take a slow sip. The taste is sour with the mouth wash, but you know after a few sips that will change. A wave of calm floods your chest and limbs once you swallow. “Thank you.” You murmur. He leans on the counter instead of moving to take a seat next to you. He can’t take his eyes off you, and he can’t even explain how just being around you makes him feel. You bring a comfort he hasn’t had in a long time. He knows he has gone about it the wrong way, but he is determined to not let you go this time. No matter how much his ex keeps trying to reach out to win him back. He wants you.

“I’m really sorry about the bar.” He manages to say. He’s not the best with apologies, but he knows you deserve one. “That was really fucked up. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“No… You shouldn’t have.” You’re honest because you know what it’s like to be betrayed. Jeongguk of all people should get it too after admitting that he has been cheated on before as you have. You must stand your ground regardless of how weak he secretly makes you because no, this specific situation may not be seen as a betrayal, but it was not okay that he left you there alone. He does, however, want to confess everything, of why he didn’t show up. But something keeps telling him that it’s too soon. When he’s ready, he plans to tell you. But for now, he wants to prove to you that he’s not going anywhere this time.

“I know,” he murmurs.

Taking a longer sip of the wine, you rub at your eyes. “He really did some damage…” You admit, appreciating how easy it is for the pair of you to start opening up. This is something you have battled to talk about since the day you witnessed it. “I mean three years of my life I gave to this guy, and he just…” You throw your hand up. “He just throws every bit of it down the drain. There wasn’t even the slightest red flag. I came home. Heard them in the bedroom… Our bedroom. And I just-” You didn’t want to cry, but the tears greet you with the burn of your nose. “I just left. I don’t even know how long it had been going on. All I know is I blocked him on everything and refuse to give him the time of day. Because I can’t bring myself to face him. Or the pain of it all.” Jeongguk listens contently, sorrow filling his umber eyes. “When I saw him at the bar for the first time in a year, the anger that filled me at first, I wanted to do anything to make him feel the same devastation I felt that day. Sure, I slept with his best friend weeks after the breakup, but he doesn’t know that. And, as much as I want to say the revenge was satisfying… It wasn’t.” You tap your fingers on the counter. “Now I’m here. I’m here in this city, living with my rich sister, and working a part time job. It’s like I want to live in my misery… At least, I have my cat.” You smile, Kenai’s sweet face bringing you peace.

“It takes a long time to move on from something like that. What happened to me was nearly two years ago and it still hurts.” Jeongguk says because he knows exactly how that feels. He still succumbed to his ex’s every beck and call until he met you. That’s when everything started changing for him. Why he couldn’t think straight. When his ex was trying to distract him, his mind was filled with you. “I saw the guy she was cheating with once. I planned to confront him, but… chickened out. I knew if I wasn’t careful, I’d do something I’d regret.”

“Who was he?” You ask. Jeongguk raises his shoulders, pursing his lips.

“I don’t know his name. Just that Seokjin was working on a movie, happened to meet the guy and my girlfriend at the time was with him. Jin put two and two together and called me right after. He recognized her in some of the pictures I posted on social media before I deleted it all.”

“He’s an actor, too? The guy she was with?” You wonder.

“I’m assuming.” He speaks. “She never really met Jin before. Or at least, I never told her specifically that he was my stepbrother. That was a part of my life I tried to keep distant, but when he called me concerned, I knew why she was coming home so late. Or, why she didn’t panic if she knew Jin was my brother who was seeing her in the flesh with another dude.” Jeongguk wets his lips. “And that’s when he tried to help me cope by giving me his apartment here when he saw how far gone, I had gotten. And that’s why she learned to do research on who I’m connected to because apparently me and Seokjin know everybody due to his fame and fortune.” He means the fame and fortune as a joke, but you still ponder.

“So…” Your expression confused. “If that’s the case, how do you know Jimin?”

Jeongguk swallows roughly, “I asked you first.”

Now, it’s your turn to gulp. “About that.” The stool screeches from under you as you immediately stand, chugging every last drop of your wine before you clutch your things to your side. The indent Jimin left on your shoulder has faded some, but it still befuddles you knowing Jeongguk could clue in if he wanted to. “I-I have to go.” You really don’t, but the way your entire body is flushing, and your eyes are wide with panic. What else are you supposed to do? Running is what you do best. As if a lightbulb goes off, Jeongguk’s laugh reverberates behind you.

“Wait a minute, have you banged him?” Halt. You choke completely on your own spit; your trachea insults you while you cough up a storm. Goodness gracious. Why this? Why now? “You totally banged him didn’t you!? Holy shit.”

“So, what if I have?” You stifle another cough whirling to face him. “What the hell are you going to do about it?”

That’s when the air between you two immediately silences as if you gave him the challenge of a lifetime. Not even Tetra or Flounder are around to fill in the void. It’s as if you both are back in the elevator where the temptation became so alive, it was hard to ignore. It was irresistible. The only sound is your breathing as it increases after Jeongguk’s wine glass clinks against the counter. There’s a prolonged few seconds before it all becomes thunderous. He makes his way to you as your purse slips from your quivering arm. Your breathing stops. His fingertips press to touch to the skin of your chest as he tickles circles. His eyes flit from your parting lips to the way your eyes start to show you’re imploring for him to not stop. He taunts you. Edging so close to you, his lips are barely on yours when he whispers, “I’m going to make you forget he exists.”

This time, you’re not letting him walk away from you. Not again. Not ever. Your palm finds itself gripping his shirt while you close the gap. The millisecond Jeongguk’s lips connect with yours, it’s electrifying. It’s as if somebody injected fireworks into your veins, shooting across your skin and awakening your senses ten times the normal, exploding across your mind, body, and soul. Your heart pounds so loud, you’re shocked if he doesn’t hear it. You’ve been with three other guys sexually prior to Jeongguk, but something about this is mystifying. Powerful.

His mouth moves with yours as you gasp into his kiss, letting him guide you until the back of your legs recognizes the arm of the sofa. His hand moves to tangle into your hair while you deepen the kiss, the tip of his tongue finding yours as he caresses it simultaneously taking his free hand to slip into the front of your pants, but you’re not ready for him to pleasure you yet. You want to show him what he will miss out on if he doesn’t choose you in the end. But you weaken when his heated lips press slowly and gently along your jawline, the arousal you feel drips, his fingers sliding further to slip past your underwear until he runs his fingertips up and down your heat.

“Oh,” he moans with a slight growl burying his face into your neck from how drenched you already are for him. “Holy fuck,” he hisses, trying to keep himself tame. You love the sound of his fingers sloshing up and down against you. But you want it to be you on him.

Shoving him back to give you some space, his hand flies from your pants and he watches you not expecting you to kneel. And not expecting you to fumble undoing his belt, tugging it out of his belt loops, he hisses in response to the point you see his bulge prominently inside his pants. Oh, the way your mouth waters instinctively at the sight of his erection.

Unbuttoning his pants, you yank them down to his ankles, releasing his erection from his underwear where you hum pleasurably at his girth. Your hands run along his thighs seductively; his eyes darken with lust as you connect with them naughtily. Your palm then slides around his length, stroking him agonizingly slow before you take him into your mouth. Letting his precum welcome your taste buds before you hollow your cheeks, the warm skin of his being ignites your arousal even more. His large hand moves to the top of your head where your strands tangle between his tatted fingers. That’s when you begin, bobbing back and forth as speedily as you can, basking in his moans at how amazing you feel. Your hands cling to the bottom of his jacket while you continue your bliss eventually releasing him from your mouth to push him onto the couch where his back plops upon the cushions.

You push his shirt up to visualize his toned abdomen before dipping down to continue sucking, moving your other hand to massage his scrotum, giving him every bit of pleasure, you can to make him crave you. To make him pine for you. Another trick is up your sleeve when your hand returns to his being, following up and down with your mouth while he tries every way not to cum before he gets the chance to pleasure you more. “Holy fuck,” He groans in satisfaction which makes you continue your fun.

Your tongue laps around his tip before you wipe the spittle at the corners of your lips away. When you’re about to continue, he raises, pulling you to his mouth as he kisses you more, becoming hungrier as he shifts you closer. You can tell your clothes are getting in his way for when he pauses, dazed, his hands start to tug at your pants, eventually freeing you from them as you help kick them off. The air in the apartment is colder than you realize. Goosebumps start flying down your legs as you try to regain your focus on removing the articles of clothing off Jeongguk’s top half. Eventually, all linens are plopped onto the floor and your naked bodies are starting to feel every inch of warm skin, captivating every sense, every cell, every emotion, every lustful bliss.

He pauses and you realize his fingertips have paused at the fading spot on your shoulder. The place where Jimin’s teeth sank in. Holding your breath, you see the guilt in Jeongguk’s eyes as his lips become ajar as if he wishes that it could have been him instead. You aren’t sure how to read what he is thinking, especially when he runs the tip of his thumb over the area. But, in the heat of the moment, his other hand slides to the back of your neck where he slightly grips the strands of your hair stimulating you to bite your lip. He tilts your head just enough to cover the spot with his own mouth, sucking harshly on the skin to place his mark. To regain his status. You’ve never seen something so hot, it’s sending immense tingles all through out your frame. He then sprinkles kisses across your chest eventually trailing to your breasts where his tongue flicks over your nipples and the top of his head tickles your chin. Your whimpers increase while he sucks each nipple tenderly, your fingers indenting his back, and the way your vaginal walls leak onto your vulva- you cannot wait for more of this man. Your eyes sweep his figure. His tattoos covering the entirety of his arm.

Goodness, his body is ethereal, and from the way he takes in the view of you bare, you can tell he feels the exact same about you. Your lips tingle for his. Dragging him to you, he crashes his lips to yours, a new addiction you both know will be hard to break. The way his body presses to yours so passionately, it’s as if you have waited your whole life to feel this good. You can still feel the way his lips bruised you on your shoulder, and you adore the way it lingers.

“My turn!” His fingers deliciously dig into your hips, he slides you closer to him despite the limited room on the sofa, and his eyes absorb how sopping wet you are for him even still. He traces his hands to your thighs when you feel your heat clenching fervently for the desire that is taking over your system. Jeongguk wastes no time swiping a finger, sucking your leakage before his tongue starts lapping up every bit of your taste. What really catches you by surprise is how he continues the fast movements, flattening and pointing his tongue seeing which gesture makes you scream for him more. In between, he sucks your clit, taking one hand to reach for the spot above your clit where he massages nice and slow simultaneously while he feasts. “Oh, Guk,” you sigh with elation. “Oh, Guk, yes! Oh my gosh, yes, holy fuck, ah-”

You hardly can contain yourself with how this man is loving your body. He refuses to stop until you feel the powerful jolt of an orgasm, gratifyingly overwhelming your brain as your thighs squeeze together. Jeongguk already pulled away with pure ecstasy of watching you come undone for him. You are so dizzy; you can’t help the way your feet sink into the couch trying to overcome the sensitivity. When you try to shift, to sit up, Jeongguk hovers close to where he whispers, the smell of you reaching your nose.

“Keep your eyes closed,” he says against your lips, kissing you quickly before carefully lifting his body off you. His hands slide along your arms as he tenderly guides you. Before you can question, he interrupts by kissing you again. “Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere. I’ve got a couple things I want to set up.” As much as you hate to admit it, your heat drips at the way he whispers this to you intensifying the elation. How many times does he plan to make you cum?

The anticipation as to what he’s about to do. What he’s about to show you. Your ears tune into the sounds of the refrigerator opening- his giddy footsteps jogging to the bedroom where you hear the start of running water. Not just a spritz from the shower… the jacuzzi. Holy fuck. When you thought of steamy sex, you never once thought about the jacuzzi. Your hands squeeze into your thighs, the sensitivity between your legs starting to dim. Your heat clenching around nothing as you feel your nipples bud against the chilled air now that his warm body hasn’t been wrapped around yours for a bit. You never really ventured with sex when you were with Hoseok. It was just the typical quickies before and after work depending on the mood with the occasional use of a vibrator. And with Namjoon, it was a drunken blur. With Jimin… It was just spicy vanilla with addictive kisses, but good enough to get the job done and not hesitate for a second round if there ever was to be a second round.

But with Jeongguk. He’s about to give you a night you hope to relive every moment you see him. When he steps into the living room after a few minutes, you had been biting your lip unintentionally, and you feel him kneeling when his tepid hands place on your knees to then gliding up your exposed thighs. He loves teasing you with his lips, talking against them to keep you on your toes. “I’m ready.” He whispers enticingly. You peel your eyes open, him holding your hands while he helps you stand.

When you enter behind him to his bedroom, you notice a golden bowl filled with ice cubes and bubbles from the jacuzzi mingled with steam is shown from where the bathroom door is open. “I didn’t know to buy rose petals and candles-”

“Oh, fuck that!” You gasp, grabbing his face to kiss him again and again. The excitement is so tremendous, his strong arms adhere you to his frame before he peppers kisses along your neck, sucking the skin before placing your back on his bed. Lifting your hands in surrender, he can have you however he wants. However, he needs you. His eyes trail to the ice cubes where he places one in his mouth taking a few long sucks. When you imagined ice play, you never thought you would actually get to experience it.

He then takes the ice and places it on your chest, the cold nips your skin in a pleasurable way and when he slides the cube onto one nipple then to the other, your shaky breaths echo within his bedroom. He then lets the cube glide downwards once your nipples stay budded till he pauses at the beginning of your vulva. “Do you want me, baby?”

“Yes!” You’re breathless, toes curling against the bed sheets, the cold of the frozen water bringing a subtle pain. “Yes, baby, please. I want you.” He lets the ice touch along your slit, causing your hips to rise involuntarily while he rubs it quickly, coating your heat with the chill. Just enough to absorb your taste. As you watch him intensely, he returns the cube to his mouth sucking more until he places it back into the bowl.

Without preparation, his hands, few fingertips cold, wrap around your thighs, shifting you to his starving mouth as he breathes in your scent. “You smell so good, baby.” He growls, his hair tickling your skin before his tongue starts to flick between your folds once more, the chill feel sending vibrations of desire up and down your body while you moan his name even higher than his previous feast. “Oh, Guk! Oh, baby! Holy fuck, you feel so good! Ah!” Your screams encourage him to flick faster, up and down his tongue presses, lapping up your juices while your hands dig into the comforter. Eyes rolling back, one by one, each of his hands reach to rub your nipples, rubbing so fondly while he licks you, making your arousal build even stronger, so intense, you can hardly breathe. His head makes swift movements while he continues to taste you furiously, not taking one moment to breathe himself. You feel another orgasm building, and before you can stop him, your hips buck to the amplifying sensation as the glint of you shines on his chin. He arches an eyebrow proudly as you melt against the comforter- completely and utterly gasping.

But he’s not done with you yet and you don’t want him to be.

He crawls onto the bed to hover above you, interlacing his fingers with yours that happen to untangle from squeezing the comforter. Still holding your hands, he then moves backwards, helping you up to lead you to the bathroom where he shuts the door behind him. Wherever he goes, you will follow. And so far, you are not regretting one bit.

The steam is still rising from the jacuzzi and when he pins you to the tub, he leans over you to press a button, the jets in the jacuzzi awaken and the entire bath is bubbling for you to enjoy. You smell yourself on his mouth, and when he kisses you again, this time it’s so loving. It’s soft. So mesmerizing, you can’t concentrate on anything else as his hands cup your breasts, rubbing your nipples so affectionately that your heat gushes below you as you moan helplessly against his mouth.

“Get in.” He demands and this newfound dominance is going to make you pounce. You tilt your head when you meet his knowing eyes.

“You first, Cigs.” His nose scrunching into the sweetest smile, you dizzyingly watch him step into the jacuzzi, letting the water engulf his frame before you find yourself joining, putting a leg on either side of his hips while you straddle him. His hands massage up and down your back slowly to gripping your ass. How much more stunning can this man be? When he said he was going to make you forget about the past, he wasn’t fucking kidding. And you are very much okay with that.

“You’re so beautiful.” He whispers suddenly and your heart swells at his words. Not only did he mean it, but you can feel how much he means it. It doesn’t take long for you to bring your lips to his after holding his gaze, eventually moving a hand to find his erection, posing above his length before he enters you causing you to gasp against his kiss before your body starts to move to the rhythm of his hips as he thrusts into you. The water splashes amidst your moans, him hitting your g-spot with every stroke.

Lips still locked to yours, Jeongguk wraps his arms around you before lifting you enough to lay your back against the other end of the jacuzzi. Water covers your body while the jets massage your skin as Jeongguk lingers above you, entering you once more, your arms hug behind his shoulders while he thrusts. His body molds so perfectly with yours, and you never felt so alive. His large hand moves to cradle the back of your head, kissing you so deeply that your head is spinning. You never want this to end. How he moves so beautifully within you. It’s enthralling. He is enthralling.

When he releases into you, the water washes him away, and he sighs into your neck while you two try to catch a breath.

“By the way, it’s Dory.”

Confusion hits you at his sudden, breathless remark. “What?”

“You called me Nemo. It’s supposed to be Dory. She has short term memory loss.”

Shoving him playfully, you splash water at him while giggles echo, him tackling you just to place kisses to your blushing face. You can’t imagine ever losing him at this point. For once, you feel promise even though a promise has never been made.

“You’re smiling.” Monnie says suspiciously as you dazingly exit your room.

“And that’s a bad thing?”

“It certainly is not. It’s about time you appreciate your life here.”

“I do appreciate it here.”

“Finally… Is it the blonde guy?”

Your eyes widen because you completely forgot that your sister has no idea about Jeongguk. “No!” You say quickly. “No, it’s not him.”

“Okay,” Monnie says slowly, placing her hands on her hips. “Well, something is making you act like a teenager, so spill it.”

“I will at some point just… Just not right now.”

Monnie groans in annoyance. “I don’t know what I have to do to get you to talk to me, but at some point, I need to know your life story.”

“But you do know most of it. We’re sisters, Genius.”

“The boring stuff. I want to hear the dirt. I’m nosy.”

“You wouldn’t be my sister if you weren’t.” You tease. “I will tell you everything when I am ready. It’s… a lot… Okay?”

Reluctantly, her arms loosen in defeat as she rolls her eyes, “Fine,” she drones.

To be honest, you hope to confide in LenLen as well. It’s about time you open to the people who you do trust very much. For the time being though, it’s been a few days since you last saw Jeongguk and he has been messaging you nonstop since then. You felt so bruised down there, especially when you both had intercourse the next morning before you left to go to work. Both were naked and finished brushing teeth, and you wrapped your arms around him from behind. Your breasts smooshed to his back. He couldn’t resist you after that. He lifted you up to where your legs linked around his body. The sex started rough once you reached his bed sheets but ended gently driving your mind wild. His touch is like lightning and he nearly cummed back-to-back when he saw a wet spot under you from where you released post orgasm.

You do plan to see him again, and despite the endless thoughts of him, you figure a nice walk around downtown is a good plan. Downtown is super close to the city but has a smaller string of stores. It’s a different scenery, something to keep your mind from cluttering. It’s been a few months. You don’t go as often because that’s where Hoseok would take you on special dates. You figure with his popularity rising from his newly released book, he may not be downtown as often, so you feel it’s safe to tread.

Goodness though, the way Jeongguk’s touch has encapsulated you into another dimension, you can’t stop thinking about him. Or his lips. Or his smile. Or his laugh. Or his tattoos, how beautifully they decorate his skin. The way he holds you… He’s a dream you hope to always have. Hands cuddled into your jacket pockets, the sun shining brightly in the sky, twenty minutes into entering downtown where cars slowly drive by and the ‘open’ signs flash on every window, you decide to enter one of the familiar shops you happened to pass. Life gets even stranger because when you enter what looks to be a beauty boutique, from the colors and setting you recognize it as one you and Hoseok used to frequent way back when.

“She had me come double check inventory. Just make sure we get more of the eye shadow palettes in. At least, that’s what she requested me to say.” Eyebrows scrunching, you have heard this voice before. It’s oddly quiet other than a radio playing, and your eyes trail to an employee nodding and scribbling down whatever was said. Your heart nearly stops when you see none other than Jimin talking to the employee after shifting through what looks to be a pile of mail. You debate running out of the store, but you never got Jimin’s number, and so you make it clear you really didn’t use him even though you kinda did accidentally on purpose, you make the haste decision to let him notice you. He hasn’t done anything wrong.

He spins around after checking over a few things and looks up at you when you clear your throat. The moment his eyes register who he is seeing, his face lights up. “Oh my gosh! Hey there!” Jimin out stretches his arms, pulling you into such a sweet embrace when he reaches you, and you can’t help but let the relief loosen your tense frame. You melt into him.

“Hey,” you whisper.

“How are you?” He pulls away slightly to read your eyes.

“I’m good… I’m sorry I never thought to get your number.”

“No! No, don’t apologize. I should be sorry. I don’t want you to think I’m that kinda guy.”

“Oh God, no.” You chuckle. “You are just fine.”

Jimin presses his lips together in concentration, his thumb rubbing your shoulder. “My sister had me check up on her store which is why I’m here.” He motions to his surroundings. “With the stress of inventory, I could use a drink. Wanna join?”

“You don’t have to ask me twice.” You say.

When the strong liquid welcomes your tongue soothing your limbs once you swallow, Jimin eyes you as you twirl the liquid in the glass. The restaurant is nice and dimly lit and you are very thankful that you ran into him when you did. It makes you feel better about what happened between you two.

“I didn’t know you had a sister.” You say after a minute. Not that you ever cared to ask. “I didn’t know she owned a store.”

Jimin smiles, shrugging his shoulders. “Yeah, she’s a pain in my ass but I love her.”

“I relate on so many levels.” You chuckle, knowing Monnie would give you a look that could kill with an arched eyebrow in tow.

“Is… everything okay between us?” Jimin is curiously watching you, his expression still concerned about everything. At this point, you both have swapped numbers, promising to keep in touch. With how much your heart pines for Jeongguk, you know you won’t give in to anyone else.

“Of course, it is.” You promise. “I really mean it when I say I enjoyed your company. I just have a lot going on.”

“I understand.” He says meaningfully. “Want to talk about it?”

Considering your answer, you swallow briefly. “My ex… of three years cheated on me. Moved here a year ago.” You continue explaining how you ended up with your sister and how you were heartbroken about being stood up at the bar and how you ran into your ex and his best friend at the bar as well. All in one night. Adding that you are glad Jimin was equally attracted to you and how the distraction really helped overall.

“Holy shit, you slept with his best friend!? You are bad ass!”

“Oh God, I’m far from it.”

“Dude, no, that’s the best way to get back at a cheater. I’m telling you. Oh, and um,” Jimin leans closer to you with a confident look, his thick lips poised in a mischievous grin, “I don’t mind you using me for whatever you want. I’m honored I got to be your first after a year of abstinence.”

You giggle, smacking his shoulder playfully. “To be honest, I’m glad it was you too. You are so sweet. I mean it. If anything, I hope we can be friends.” You reach to squeeze his hand, him running his thumb across your knuckles.

“Agreed.”

“How long ago did you and your sister move here?” You wonder aloud. “I remember you said you had been here for a long while.”

“About two years, but I am roommates with Taehyung for now. He’s pretty head over heels for his girlfriend so I’ll probably be living on my own soon.”

“That’s not bad at all,” you encourage.

“Oh yeah, I’m sure I’ll love the space, but it gets lonely sometimes… My sister lives with her current boyfriend. I’m not the biggest fan, but he’s a successful novelist. Came out with a book literally like last week.”

Your eyebrows scrunch. What? “He’s… an author?”

“Yeah… I mean he’s a good writer don’t get me wrong, but her last boyfriend… She was with him forever and she did him so dirty. I felt bad for the kid.”

“Wait a minute…” Your head is spinning. This can’t be real. Calm down, y/n, it’s all just a coincidence. You are freaking out over nothing. “Wh-who was her ex-boyfriend if you don’t mind me asking?”

He opens his mouth to reply, but his phone, that has been laying right side up on the table starts to vibrate, a picture of a smiling woman shows. “Oh, that’s my sister.” He says, “Probably calling to make sure I took care of inventory. I should take this.”

“I- I have to go anyway,” you pretend to check your wrist when really stars are showing in your eyes, because that picture. Your mouth goes immediately dry. The shirt. The way her breasts are rounded beneath that shirt. Hoseok’s shirt. The shirt that went missing. The girl in the picture… she was wearing it. She was fucking wearing it.

“Hey, Min-a.” Jimin greets into the phone, waving goodbye to you, mouthing that he will text you as you dart away. Bile rises to your esophagus burning in its wake as you rush outside to the nearest trash can. Holy shit. You can’t breathe and you gasp between heaves. Everything is crashing down as you make the connection. It’s all coming together.

You never saw her face, but you saw her torso decorated with nice breasts and Hoseok’s shirt. Jeongguk mentioned that he was cheated on too and that she was with her new boyfriend who was going over a script with an actor… His stepbrother who is none other than Kim Seokjin. Hoseok has been writing for an actor who happens to be Kim Seokjin. Jimin personally knows Kim Seokjin. Hoseok is now out with a novel. She, Jimin’s sister, owns a store downtown, a store that happens to be one that you and Hoseok used to frequent because you loved their products, but when you left him, you never went back to that specific store. Meaning… he met her there. While you two were still together. But most of all, you remember how tense Jeongguk got at the mention of Jimin… Because Jeongguk knows Jimin. And then there was the confrontation Jeongguk almost had with the guy his ex-girlfriend cheated on him with who you can’t seem to comprehend it to be:

Hoseok.

This can’t be real. No, no this can’t be fucking real. You plead to the universe, wiping your lips with your sleeve as you try to keep the next bout of nausea suppressed.

Jeongguk dated Jimin’s sister who is now with Hoseok. The girl who he cheated on you with. You heard Jimin say her name. You can hardly collect your thoughts to think her name.

Min-a.

When the nausea starts to dull just for you to regain your composure. You run. You run home and you don’t stop until you burst through the door. Monnie and Yoongi are frantic when they see you, collapsing to the floor to catch your breath while tears stream down your face, sobbing as the pain shoots through your heart. Now, you have your answer. Nobody had to tell you. You accidentally stumbled upon it yourself. At this point, seeing the devastation pouring down your face, Monnie doesn’t give you a choice, she demands the truth. As Kenai rushes to sway his furry body against your legs to calm you, you confess and tell your sister and her boyfriend everything. From beginning to end- everything.

Finally, you let every emotion out, every secret released.

“So, you are saying that not only did you sleep with your ex’s best friend, Namjoon. You also hooked up with your ex’s new girl’s brother and her ex-boyfriend, too!?” Monnie connecting the dots while Yoongi’s mouth drops open in alarm. “Holy cannoli, if this isn’t the best revenge story ever!”

“I wasn’t looking for revenge!” You spew.

“Not with Jimin and Jeongguk you weren’t, but you have to admit, Namjoon was definitely revenge.”

“Well Namjoon, yes.” You agree with swollen eyes. “But the rest? I had absolutely no idea they were connected.” Your palm is plastered to your forehead, and though Jeongguk has messaged you and called twice, you’ve ignored everything. You don’t know how to approach the subject. Is his ex, Min-a, who is Hoseok’s girlfriend that he left you for, is she the reason Jeongguk kept walking away from you? Why he struggled at first giving into you? Have her and Hoseok been having problems? “No wonder why Hoseok was so… shocked.” You murmur. “I thought it was because I was kissing another guy in general, but it was his girlfriend’s brother.”

“Wowza.” Yoongi shakes his head in disbelief. “I can’t comprehend it. What a small world.”

“Now it all makes sense. They all know each other.” You speak. “That’s why they’re all connected. Holy shit.”

“I definitely know Kim Seokjin. Not personally, but we’ve seen a few of his movies.” Yoongi says crossing his arms, gesturing his elbow in Monnie’s direction.

“Oh yeah, how can we not know Kim Seok-” Monnie notices Yoongi eyeballing her playfully with a quirked eyebrow and she clears her throat. “I agree. They all know each other. Jimin and Taehyung are best friends who know Kim Seokjin because he is best friends with Taehyung. Kim Seokjin also knows Jeongguk because they happen to be stepbrothers and Kim Seokjin knows Hoseok because of the movie script and novel Hoseok wrote. Also,” Monnie takes in a deep, dramatic breath. “Hoseok knows Jeongguk because Hoseok stole his girlfriend at the time, and Jeongguk knows Jimin because he dated Jimin’s sister. Am I forgetting anyone?”

“My head hurts.” You groan.

“Ah, Namjoon! He is best friends with Hoseok and since he was in the same vicinity as everyone I have mentioned, he must know everyone. I’m sure he is familiar with Jeongguk because Hoseok probably told him.”

“You’re good at this.” You blurt. “Maybe you should be a writer.”

“I’ve dabbled a time or two.” She grins, holding a finger in the air. “And that concludes your shit show of a love life.”

“Thanks.” You roll your eyes. Yet, you couldn’t concur more.

When conversation finishes with your sister and her boyfriend, you feed Kenai and give him squishy hugs and kisses while he pelts his tail at you in annoyance. You don’t care how much he prefers his food over you sometimes, you want to give him kissies and he shall accept them. There is somewhere you want to be. Need to be. You just hope he will be there.

Ordering a driver after freshening up and putting on a light amount of makeup, you throw on some tennis shoes and make your way outside. Previously you were always uncertain of the destination you were going to go. But this time, you know exactly where you are going. He will always be who you run to. Jeongguk. You haven’t stopped thinking about him since the day you met him. It has all gone by so fast, yet there is plenty of time to become more than just a thought every other second. But, neither of you can proceed until the truth is told.

The drive feels tantalizingly slow as your leg bounces profusely in the backseat until you arrive at the bookstore. You swish some mouth wash from the mini bottle in your purse as you rush to the elevator after tipping the driver, spitting it into a bush before elbowing the elevator button. Your temples beat to your increasing heart rate. Swallowing the lump forming in your throat, you recount everything. It’s time to lay it all out. No matter how risky.

Customers standing by on the third floor watch you zip past, and you try to follow your memory to Jeongguk’s door and when your feet stop before it, you inhale and exhale deeply to calm your nerves. You knock, letting your hope rise because you cannot wait to see him despite the words that haven’t been said. You hear running footsteps- and when the door opens, your breath hitches at his indescribable beauty. You see the way relief falls with his shoulders as he springs forward to hug you- pulling you into his home while the door automatically shuts behind you.

You take the time to hold him, bundling your nose into his warm chest while his hand moves to soothe into your hair. “Hey,” he whispers, placing a kiss to the top of your head. “Where have you been? I’ve been super worried.”

“I know,” you murmur, squeezing him tighter. “I know. I’m sorry… Something happened.” You hear the rustle of paws running around the living room and you can’t help but smile at the reminder of the cats. Instantly your smile falls, however, because you know a serious conversation is going to take place. Shifting to step back, so you can see the entirety of his face, he tries to read your expression. He can tell something is wrong.

“I know how you know Jimin.” You can’t help it when tears brim, especially when you see Jeongguk’s body tense. As if he is trying to protect himself from unwanted memories. From heartbreak. He remains silent. “Min-a.” Your voice is hoarse when you say her name. Jeongguk’s hands move to slide into his hair while he sucks in his lips, squeezing his eyes shut the second he registers who you just named. There’s pain in his demeanor. Pain, you know all too well. “She’s who my ex-boyfriend left me for… Hoseok.”

Disbelief, the common reaction, is all over his expression while his lips part as if to speak, but he doesn’t. “Hoseok’s not an actor…” You murmur. “He’s a writer… He knows your stepbrother because he wrote a story he wants filmed with Seokjin as the lead.” You wet your lips. “I met Jimin the day I met you. And yes… I hooked up with him the night the bar opened, but I was so emotionally distraught, I needed something. Anything to distract me because I saw Hoseok there. And his best friend. And… I was devastated that you didn’t show up.” Your fingers touch to your lips as you try to keep your composure. “I had no idea who she was until today.” You admit. “Absolutely no idea.”

“I-” Jeongguk struggles to find the words, but he steps closer to you. “I think it will take time for the shock to settle, but…” He swallows. “I never meant to hurt you that night I didn’t show up.” You feel your tears panging hot trails onto your cheeks, Jeongguk moving to cup your face to swipe the tears away with his thumbs. “I was still battling with whether I should start over with Min-a. She kept trying to reach out to see me again, and I fell for it a few times, but the second I met you.” His forehead touches to yours while you take in his warmth. “The second I met you, there was no one else I could think about. Not even her. In a fucked-up sense, I wanted closure, too. I thought…” He pauses, pulling away slightly to look into your eyes. “I thought if I gave her a chance to explain, maybe that would be enough for me to move on, but… she never showed up each time she reached out. I knew I made a huge mistake what I did to you and when you were all I continued to think about I knew… I knew it was you I ultimately wanted to be with. I’m so sorry I broke your trust. I’m so sorry I hurt you.”

“No-!” You croak. “No, it’s okay. It’s really okay.” You plea through the tears. His eyes well with them too while you both try to get through this pain. Together. “You were hurting, too. We were hurt by the same people. It’s all so unbelievable, I can hardly understand it.”

“Well, if I haven’t learned anything at all, it’s that karma’s a bitch.” Jeongguk forces a chuckle, brushing a slow, warm kiss to your lips. “I won’t let him hurt you anymore.” You feel the tenderness in his caress. His promise. This time clothes make a trail on the floor to his bedroom where your bodies cling together while love is made through the night. In the end, you hope he is the man that will mend your heart the way you hope to mend his.

No more goodbyes, Cigs.

No more goodbyes.

And that will be your promise.

Seven months later…

“Breathe, y/n.” Jeon Jeongguk reminds you as you take in a prolonged, shaky breath. The buzzing of the needle starts to reach your skin while his gloved hands gently touch your limb. “I promise you it’s not that bad. Do you see my arm?”

“I know, Babe. But I have never done this before. Cut me some slack here.” You whine. Closing your eyes, a prick of pain starts to tingle against your skin from the sharp darts of pinches leaving traces of black ink in its wake.

“Good.” Jeongguk encourages. “See, I told you. It’s not that bad-”

He notices you wince when he gets to a different area of your wrist where he is permanently inking your ‘delicate skin’ as you have been referring. You knew you always wanted a tattoo, but it took your forever to figure out what to get. When the idea came to get an ink print of one of Kenai’s paws, you jumped to it. Jeongguk, of course, pretending to be jealous, made it clear that he better be the one who tattoos you. The shop is closed for the day, but Jeongguk being one of the main artists, he’s allowed to do tattoos on his own time, so it is just the two of you in the facility.

You are astonished at how quickly it goes by. The needle stings, but the pain is durable. It definitely is not as bad as you anticipated. It only takes Jeongguk 45 minutes to complete Kenai’s pawprint on the underside of your wrist. “Alright, take a look and tell me what you think and then I’ll apply the wrap.” He sets the needle onto the metal table next to the chair you have been sitting in, and he takes off his gloves.

The skin is red, with small dots of blood as you expected from where the needle etched the ink, but you are blown away by how brilliantly Jeongguk did with your first ever tattoo. “It’s… It’s perfect.” Your voice breaks from the tears brimming. “I love it.” You smile wide.

He chuckles, elated by your response. “I love you.” Preparing the sticky wrap, he carefully places it, afterwards pressing a kiss to your lips. “You did it.” His smile lights up your entire world as he proudly kisses you again.

“Only because of you. I wouldn’t have survived with anybody else.”

“Yes, you would have. It’s not that bad. I told you!” Jeongguk teases, waving his tatted arm in your line of vision while he points at it with his free hand.

“Fine,” you drone. “I would prefer that it be you because it’s more special. Kenai is the love of my life aside from you.” Jeongguk quirks an eyebrow. “What? He loves you, too!”

“Are you sure about that because he’s really gotten Flounder wrapped around his toe bean.”

“He’s got you, too.” You wink.

You moved in with Jeongguk a few weeks ago, adapting to the new life. So far, it’s gone rather well. He may not throw his clothes in the laundry basket, but at least he knows how to make up for it later. Wink wink. You inwardly giggle. Though LenLen was sad to see you leave, not only did Jeongguk get you a job at the bookstore, but you are the store manager which is nice because on breaks, you can just chill at home.

Home being with Jeongguk, Kenai, Flounder and Tetra. The crazy cat couple. Nothing gets better than that.

Jeongguk on the other hand has returned to tattooing. Something he is so talented at that its mind blowing. You are so grateful for how strong of a bond you two have formed since the first day you met. As far as Hoseok, him and Min-a have broken up by the whispers on the street, but you have found a way to forgive him. Especially when he reached out to apologize for how he wronged you and how none of it was your fault. How he should have known Min-a never truly wanted him, and that you are the sole reason his novel became a hit. The day he met you at the park. How you inspired it. You aren’t sure if he knows about Namjoon still, but you are glad he didn’t mention it if he does. You figure he’d tear the book to shreds at that point, but you thanked him for his apology and that you are happy with someone else. Very happy.

Jimin is a friend of you and Jeongguk to this day, but he does not speak about his sister in either presence considering her name is still an open wound. You and Jeongguk are still working on the forgiveness for her, too.

“It’s so amazing.” You awe about your tattoo once more. Jeongguk reaches to hold your other hand. “You��re so talented.”

He shrugs. “It’s a passion… Thank you for trusting me.”

Your lips pull into a gentle smile. “Always and forever.”

Leaning forward, you kiss him again and again and again and again. You love that you can trust that there will not be a goodbye from this glorious human being before you. He will always be your hello the second you wake up, the second you come home and every moment in between. “I love you,” he whispers breathless between kisses and if there weren’t cameras installed for security, you two would be making love right here in this seat.

“I love you too, Cigs.” You whisper against his mouth. “I love you so much.”

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whalesforhands · 4 months

Note

Hii! I have an idea ☝️😈

What about teen gojo and geto meeting future reader and they’re all baffled and mesmerized and all this fluffy stuff and reader is just like “🧍‍♀️” confused since she was fighting a curse a few seconds ago- But the adult versions of the two are busy doing whatever else so she has to deal with them until the curse wears off?

Just wanted to ramble 🏃‍♀️ Merry Christmas!

i like ur rambling, anon. guess what timeline i picked, hehe. whether or not it’s canon to main dyf au, is for you to decide. merry christmas hohoho

You practically deflate onto the ground, knees scraping against the soft dirt whilst your poor, beaten up staff was used as your sole support where you had stabbed it into the dirt, your hands sliding down the handle of your weapon as the dust settles around you.

It was rare to have you deployed on-field for an exorcism of a curse, and even rarer for you to have to deal with anything above a Grade 2.

(Mainly due to your husbands who were sorely against you having to do any exorcism at all.)

But, alas, even they can’t slay every single curse in the world; the higher-ups having purposefully kept their most powerful busy as of late.

“And you promise to abandon your mission if you can’t defeat it?” A seriousness in his tone, almost dreadful, almost domineering in nature. Geto Suguru will not take no for an answer, his hands upon your shoulders squeezing lightly, trembling just ever so slightly.

“Do not fight anything you deem above your skill level.” Gojo Satoru is wholly deadpan, your pinkies interlocked in a promise as intense eyes stare you down. You feel his pinky tighten, restless, unlabeled impatience. Absent of any semblance of playfulness. “Okay?”

You’ve taken their words seriously, only taking fights that you know you would win; only running when you know you can’t.

A jujutsu sorcerer does not give their life up so easily.

You hear a rustle from the bushes, eyes darting behind you, and ripping your weapon out and readying for another face off just as you feel a familiar, overwhelming power looming just where you had looked away.

“Now, now, now.” That familiar voice, lacking in all the more mature tones you were used to, all the gentleness that you’ve grown so fond of.

“You’re gonna drop your weapon, put your pretty hands up and slowly turn around to face me.”

(You didn’t even hear his footsteps. Was he flying?)

There’s no hesitation in your compliance, the clatter of your staff to the ground as your hands are held up. The malice in the energy you feel all stoked and ready to explode at any given moment, the tones of his voice an underlying, upset melancholy.

You’re facing the Gojo Satoru, afterall. However, there’s an issue with him, something you’ve realized all too soon after loving him for so long.

There’s a tensed silence between the both of you during the stare-down, your eyes still getting used to his slightly shorter stature, much shorter hair as compared to your highschool days and current adult age. His cheeks a tad bit fuller, but eyes dulled considerably.

He’s still so cute.

“My Six Eyes tell me that you’re (name) (last name).” From your breathing pattern down to every last speck of your cursed energy; it was undeniably you. His eyes shine with quiet grief, and gritted regret as you meet his gaze.

You feel sorry for him.

“…but you’re not my (name).” You’re a little more mature looking, a little far too calm and collected in his presence. You’re the same; yet not the one he knew. His eyes narrow as the red on his glowing hand fizzles out, his stance commanding and broad as his feet finally touch the ground before you, using his looming height as a threat. It contrasts the way his voice cracks just as he ends his words, a beating silence enveloping the both of you as your heart calms, your hands slowly going down.

“And you’re not my Satoru.” It causes a stuttering, reddish plum to his cheeks, a throb to his heart that he hadn’t expected to feel, clenching his fists, a click of realization alongside his fingernails digging into his skin, intrepid gaze holding your calm one.

“So I am in another world.”

——

This wasn’t your Suguru either. His hair is messily bunned up, the bags under his eyes darker than you have ever seen him. His lips are dry, his complexion lacking any of the usual vigor your Suguru had.

He looks far too weary, far too tired as he sits upon a nearby bench, hunched over and just so exhausted that it makes you wonder when was the last time he has had a good night’s sleep.

“Oi, Suguru!” The ‘Satoru’ that you had met is all too keen to greet the boy, his hand around your elbow and pulling you along with him. “I found out where we’re at!” His loud call only heeds the visible slump of the black-haired boy’s tensed shoulders, eyes still cast towards the ground as the cicadas call around him.

“And I found somebody to help us.” He brings the both of yourselves to a stop before the blank boy.

“It’s nice to meet you?” You’re honestly at a loss for words at the situation. For how all powerful and odd Gojo’s powers can be, you hadn’t expected this situation one bit.

It’s at your voice that this ‘Geto Suguru’ nearly whirls his head back at a speed so quick that it nearly scares you. Dry, reddened eyes widening and mouth opening, getting up on shaky legs as he extends a hand towards you.

“You—“

——

“So…” The silence is far too awkward for you to be comfortable. “There was a (name) in your timeline too, I hear?” Your fingers are twiddling with your jujutsu uniform as you sat in between the both of them, their proximity a just inching between the line of too close whilst awaiting for Ijichi’s pickup to the campus.

‘Gojo Satoru’ is the first to speak up. “Yeah.”

A pause.

“Our (name) is… Dead.” You see ‘Geto Suguru’’s hands clench at his uniform pants, bundling the fabric up so tight that his knuckles started to turn white.

Oh. You feel bad now.

“I’m… Sorry about that.”

A breath is sucked in through his teeth. “Don’t be.”

You shouldn’t feel sorry for them at all. It’ll just make it worse than it already is.

Isn’t it funny? Comical? That their (name) had to be ripped away from their hold, had to be clawed away from their reach, only for fate to place another you; living, breathing right in front of them.

So palpable, so alike, so unbearably, painfully you. It makes them want to throw up in disgust, honestly. But they can’t.

Because it’s you.

“I-I’m sure that I-“ No. “Your (name) lived a good life if you were both around, then. Please- Trust me on this.” You know. You know that any version of ‘you’ would be satisfied with their life if they had friends like them; Gojo, Geto and Ieiri.

It’s a life that no version of you would ever regret. You wouldn’t regret becoming a jujutsu sorcerer if you had gotten to meet people like them.

And it brings two broken hearts just a tinge more comfort.

——

“Um, Satoru..”

“Yes?” It was a chorus of two similar voices.

“Ah— No. Uhm— My Satoru.” You’re a bit frazzled as you nod towards your blindfolded husband, a satisfied hum coming from him as he made his way towards you.

“Just call the other one Gojo! Or you can just call for your hubby~” He’s cooing into your ear for the duo to watch on, a hand on your waist to hook you in close as a smile is donned upon his face.

There’s a beat of silence before the more intimidating white-haired sorcerer spoke up.

“No. I want to be called Satoru.” The younger Gojo had had his eyes set upon you, never letting you leave his vicinity. Then, that means that the other ‘Geto Suguru’ would be called as simply ‘Suguru’, then.

“Your blindfold’s pretty lame. Do I actually want to wear that?”

Your Gojo chooses to turn his nose up, and ignore that sneer his younger counterpart gave him. “Man, I was so angry.” You hear a sigh as you see a hand wave off the younger boy. “Do whatever you please, little me. But don’tcha leave yet, please! My Suguru’s gonna be so stoked to see this.”

Oh, speaking of your Suguru.

“Did you tell him to pick up some dashi stock for our dinner tonight? I ran out yesterday.”

“…how about we just order a pizza tonight?”

“Sator— Gojo!” Your hands are immediately upon your hips as you feel him hug you towards him, a hand going up to stroke the back of your head, as your face is pressed to his chest to muffle the incoming scolding.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! Don’t be mad at me! A wife’s scorn is a husband’s greatest regret!”

“…you guys live all together?” ‘Suguru’’s voice breaks the moment between the both of you.

You feel a rumbling of your husband’s chest as a laugh is released.

“And we got kids together too. Ya jealous yet?”

——

“Aha, this is certainly a sight.” Suguru is shedding himself of his jacket as he kicks off his shoes by the genkan, the sight of his younger self, and double the Gojo certainly jarring for him as they sat around the dining table.

“Welcome home, honey!” It’s your Gojo that skips along to press an obnoxiously wet kiss to your other husband’s lips first as you gently place the final bowl of zaru soba down.

(Minus the miso soup side dish. You’re still slightly mad, but you have guests over.

“We could’ve just ordered a pizzaaaaaa!” Your husband’s whines are ignored as you strain the noodles out.

“I’m not feeding guests a pizza, dearest idiot husband of mind.” You pat your hands dry upon your apron, turning to flick at his forehead as he whines even more, begetting a giggle before you tiptoe up to press a kiss to the area.)

“Welcome home.” Your voice greeting your husband is lost on ‘Satoru’ and ‘Suguru’’s ears as they stare down at the bowl before them. The significance of the food almost making the cursed spirit user tear up.

This was his favourite food. It— ‘You’ and himself used to eat this frequently until—

“Suguru… Are you okay?” A whispered concern from his Satoru.

“Yeah. I—“ He thinks he’s going to be sick. “I’m fine.”

“It isn’t much, but I hope you enjoy it.” His ears finally tune back in just in time to hear your voice once more. Dreary copper-amethyst gaze flicking up to meet your warm, lovely face.

He’ll eat it. He’ll eat it. He’ll eat it.

“Don’t push yourself if you can’t.” It’s this world’s Suguru that pops in, much longer hair, his older features, his broader stature and more muscled body.

(Does— He know what he’s been through?)

His chopsticks are trembling as he brings the noodles to his lips, mouth opening and slowly chewing— He stops as a realization hits him.

It’s delicious. It’s so delicious. There are tears in his eyes as he begins to gobble it up, a hack in his throat as ‘Suguru’ pushes the urge to vomit away to take in more.

(If— if this was his final time meeting you- Then he has to. He has to. But— This is strange. Even his counterpart didn’t react all that much to his and Satoru’s appearance.

It occurs to him that perhaps, they aren’t in another world. If they’re meeting their older selves, then— Perhaps they are in another timeline.

Which means—)

His gaze returns down to the now empty bowl before him, before flickering up to meet your satisfied, almost prideful face.

“Thank you for the meal.”

“You’re welcome! I’m so happy you loved it that much!”

Perhaps this situation wasn’t so bad at all, giving him the chance to see your smiling face once more.

——

“If you give me a kiss, I’ll tell him~” Is he mocking his younger self…? You just wanted him to help the other ‘Satoru’ to get back to his world. Alas, you relent, leaning over to press a chaste, quick kiss to his cheek as your Geto watched on with upturned eyes and a happy smile.

“Hey, kid me.” A joyful hum, a satisfied gait as your Gojo watches the little boy who he once was.

“You already figured out how to go back already, right? Whatcha waiting for?” Huh…? Your Gojo already knows how to get them back?! Your eyes widen as you nearly choke on your water.

“Now, now Gojo. Don’t tease them.” Your Geto is chuckling, patting your back as you cough. “You’ll make our poor wife worried. I’m sure that they have some sort of unfinished business here.”

What?! Were they both in on this? This is just getting stranger, and stranger…

“Heh. Guess it isn’t a surprise I would know myself best, huh?” Satoru lets a cocky grin overtake his features as his fingers intertwined with his Suguru’s.

“Guess I really am the strongest.”

His gaze finally stops at you. “It was nice— Y’know.” He grows shy, eyes shifty from behind his sunglasses. “Seeing a (name) again.”

‘Suguru’ speaks up. “Thank you for— Allowing us to experience it again.” He’s grateful. The most he’s ever been, the most he’s ever felt ever since your passing.

Thank you. But— It’s only goodbye for now.

“It was nice meeting the both of you!” You’re bowing politely as you wave.

(The younger Suguru is finally smiling. Even if it’s just a little.)

“We’ll see you soon! Wait for us!” A salute and a bright grin. And in a flash, they have disappeared.

…what?

masterlist

Notes:

If you don’t get it, your current Satoru and Suguru have experienced what their younger counterparts have been through.

Younger Gojo and Geto have been watching every move you’ve been making. Keep that in mind if you ever reread this, haha.

During dinner, younger Gojo and Geto decided to share a bowl together since Geto hasn’t been able to eat a full meal without throwing up. It was the first time in a while he’s eaten so much. When Gojo saw how much he was eating, he asked for a separate bowl for himself.

Geto Suguru thinks he’s pretty handsome in this world. Would…you have liked someone like that too? His Satoru certainly does. He’s seen the shifty, almost shy gaze his Gojo threw the older Geto. Maybe he will grow out his hair.

“Aww, I was such an adorable brat!~” His hands are placed upon his cheeks as he cooed, watching as his husband and yourself cleared the plates.

“Hmm. I suppose you must’ve lost all that cuteness in your youth, wouldn’t you agree, darling?.” Suguru’s cooing back at him from the kitchen with a laugh, his body turning to you to ask for your opinion.

“His younger self was certainly so cute… But I suppose my answer depends on whether he helps with the dishes today.” You’re teasing him right back as you slowly wash the plate.

“W-what? Fine, I’m coming! Call me adorable, pleaseee!”

#jjk x reader #gojo satoru x reader #satosugu x reader #geto suguru x reader #jjk angst #gojo x reader #geto x reader

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pyrriax · 6 months

Text

chapter 25 of wtds is finally complete and posted ^_^

"broken hourglass, full of stars"

#haunted ecosystem #haunted bookshelf #au: where the dust settles #outsiders smp

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aetheternity · 2 years

Text

He loves me, I love him not

Synopsis: When he tells you he loves you and you don't say it back. {So like forever ago I don't remember how long, there used to be this Tiktok trend where a person wouldn't say I love you back to their partner and film their reaction.} That's the idea behind this but it's not really a modern au. The boys aren't being filmed. You're just messing with them.

Disclaimer: No pronouns used/gender specified. Not a modern au just straight up fluffy stuff with a small amount of angst in Chongyun's part.

Characters: Aether, Chongyun, Tighnari, Venti, Scaramouche.

A/N: I want to write a new 5wirl post so bad but I also doubly realized how much I enjoy writing for Tighnari. So you guys will have to suffer till I get bored of him.

Venti

☆ He says he loves you so often that your reply has become second nature. So much so that you worry you might not be able to trick him like this.

☆ Yeah part of it was because he was the absolute cutest and sweetest boyfriend ever. But the far louder side of your brain nagged on about how you'd end up hurting his feelings.

☆ Though you pushed those worries aside and did it regardless. It was just a test of sorts after all: "I love you." He mumbled sweetly into your ear as the two of you sat side by side, feasting on apples and bread for breakfast.

☆ The words sat on the tip of your tongue, an equally affectionate reply replaying in your brain. "Mhm." You settled on.

☆ His head swiveled towards you so fast you could've sworn it'd disconnect from his body. Though it only took a glimpse of the corner of your eye for a small smile to stretch across his face.

☆ "Not feeling it this morning, Windblume?" His words so close to your ear cause the hairs against your neck to raise and you let a little shudder flow down your spine. "Or maybe you just feel like teasing."

☆ "Ven.." You cut off at the feeling of his lips on your cheek.

☆ "It's ok." He giggles "Though if you ever genuinely don't feel like saying it back, don't worry I understand."

☆ "I love you too, so much."

Tighnari

☆ Listen he rarely ever says these three words. Not because he doesn't feel as strongly for you as you do him or because he's heartless. He just doesn't want to overuse the phrase. He thinks it should mean something every time.

☆ And it's been a while since he last said it so at this moment he just stops, deadpanning in the doorway.

☆ No words to break the awkward tension just a full blown not blinking staring contest.

☆ "What?" You gaze back at him innocently

☆ "Don't play dumb, I believe I said something very romantic and heartfelt a moment ago."

☆ "Did you??" You continue to tease, pulling a confused expression for effect.

☆ And yeah sure you could spend the whole day trying not to let a grin slip as his unamused grimace gets darker. But of course you slip and say it back. Just be prepared for him to be the petty bastard he is and revoke kissing privileges later.

☆ What do you mean he's dodging your kisses? He's just busy right now. Guess you'll have to wait till he stops finding your annoyed huffs funny.

Aether

☆ He says it at least once every time he sees you for two reasons: One the constant fear that the next time he sees you will be the last. And two he's just naturally affectionate in that way.

☆ So yeah: this time when he says it and he's met with pure silence he's more than a little worried. He's not exactly looking at you right now. He's cleaning the last of the dishes in the sink, while you dust the living room only a few feet away.

☆ He ponders over whether or not you heard him or maybe in fact he just hadn't heard you. So he just repeats himself, waiting a bit anxiously for a reply. Though this time he notices the quick flinch of your shoulders and the way your cheeks puff only to relax a second later.

☆ Suddenly your little game is exposed. He dries his hands, walking up behind you quietly enough that you don't hear him coming.

☆ He soon enjoys the wriggle of your hips in his grasp as he pulls you off the table you'd been standing on. Gently he lowers you to the ground his kisses swiftly covering every inch of your face. A soft murmur of "I love you" pressed into every spot on your face until all you could do was breathlessly wheeze his name.

☆ Now you can't help but state the words back outright. Your beaming grin and adoring eyes giving you away before you could even utter it.

☆ But Aether's, Aether so of course neither of you are moving from that spot till he gets the appropriate amount of kisses and love you's back.

Chongyun

☆ Another one who doesn't say he loves you often but he knows what displaying those emotions can do to him plus he's a little shy. It's ok you live with it.

☆ Today had been sort of rare though. He'd been off the whole day, just meditating during the early morning and training until the sun had finally set.

☆ Unlike Xingqiu, you didn't play pranks on Chongyun. Actually you were the one who normally took care of him after Xingqiu's latest prank. But you felt a sort of playful mood arise. Perhaps not seeing your boyfriend today had stirred up some energy in you.

☆ He slipped into his side of the bed like he always did, reaching out to intertwine your hands. "Goodnight Name, I love you." He whispered

☆ "Goodnight, Yun." You shifted closer to him, eyelids drawing shut.

☆ You can feel every shift of the mattress as Chongyun wiggles about, hand holding yours a little tighter and then suddenly everything stills.

☆ You almost pretend to wake up but he takes the choice away, taping your shoulder.

☆ "Name, Did I upset you? You always say you love me back.." His eyes shift between each of yours as he nibbles the popsicle. (You honestly can't imagine where he got it from.)

☆ "Yun.."

☆ "Is it because I didn't spend the day with you? I probably should've have, shouldn't I.. I didn't mean to be a bad boyfriend.. I'm more accustomed to training on days off and-"

☆ And of course you have to kiss his cheek and talk him down because he won't stop worrying.

☆ "I'm so sorry Yun. And I do love you."

☆ The light pink dusting his cheeks makes the pang in your chest lighter as you pull the blankets up to cover you. (Not him cause heat.)

☆ "I am thankful you were just pranking me." He mutters into your collarbone. "But next time if you do can you just do it the way Xingqiu does instead?"

☆ If you love him at all you will never do that shit again.

Scaramouche

☆ He's surprisingly spontaneous with how infrequently he'll tell you he loves you. Someday's he'll say it when he first sees you and then again at night. Other days you won't hear the phrase uttered at all.

☆ To be fair It's always a little shocking to hear how easily those words come to him no matter how long the relationship has gone on for.

☆ He's just sort of laying in your lap when you decide to test him. His head cradled by your thighs. Your hands carding sections of his hair away from his closed eyes.

☆ A little sigh falls off his lips before those affectionate words fall off his lips. You opt for pure silence however. Keeping a blank expression as best as possible as his eyes soon fixate on you from his spread out angle.

☆ "Didn't you hear me?" He asks

☆ "Hmm?"

☆ His hand reaches up to take your wrist, "I said, I love you."

☆ "Ok, heard you loud and clear." You give him a thumbs up.

☆ You only get a split second view but his grimace is instantly noticeable. "You can be so annoying sometimes."

☆ "Scara wait!" You can't hide your giggles as you trot along behind him but he doesn't even bother to stop walking.

☆ Don't worry he's already accepted your apology. He just really hates your little pranks.

#genshin x reader #genshin fluff #venti fluff #venti x reader #venti headcanons #tighnari x reader #tighnari headcanons #tighnari fluff #aether fluff #aether headcanons #aether x reader #scara fluff #scaramouche fluff #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche headcanons #chongyun x reader #chongyun fluff #chongyun headcanons

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moralesluvr · 11 months

Note

Can you write miles 42 where he forces you to go to his homeboys party but it’s all up to you if the plot and stuff <3

right hand woman ft. miles morales

♡ pairings & aus: earth42!miles morales x black!fem!reader ♡ summary: miles knows that you haven't been feeling yourself lately, so he decides to bring you along to one of his friend's parties to cheer you up ♡ warnings: a little banter-y arguing, a little suggestive ♡ a/n: thanks for your request!! ♡ got a request? | masterlist ♡

“WHATCHU DOIN’ TODAY, MA?” Your boyfriend asked you as he rummaged through his closet for something. You gave him a light shrug, eyes not looking up from your Instagram feed, “Probably finna take a nap and order food. I don’t feel good.”

You watch Miles pick out a pair of cargos, holding them up for you to see, “Yes or no?”

“They’re cute,” you reply somberly, “Where you goin’, anyway?”

Miles doesn’t respond to your question immediately. Instead, he just continues to search for a top and a pair of shoes to wear with his pants. You get irritated, “Miles. I know you hear me.”

“Just actin’ like you when I ask you do to sum’ for me.” He laughs, pulling out a white graphic shirt and putting it on display for you. He can’t even ask you how it looks before you look at him with concerned eyes, “If you wear that with them pants, I’m never speaking to you again.”

He snorts, tossing another shirt on the bed to remind him that it needs to be ironed. “I’m going to a party. You should come with me tonight. I love you, but you been sittin’ in my crib collectin’ dust for two weeks. You don’t wanna go out or nun?”

“I’m fine right here.”

“But you not, babe, I know sum’s wrong.” He replies, walking over to where you were laying lazily underneath his covers. You think he’s gonna rip them off of your cold frame, but he instead climbs on top of you, his weight making your breath hitch. You screech, “If you don’t get your big ass off me-“

“Then come with me.” He pleads, but you know it’s more of a demand then a question. He presses up against you, tilting his head to pepper annoying, wet kisses all over your cheeks and face. You giggle, swatting at him, “Your breath is hot, stop!”

Miles doesn’t cease until you agree to go out with him. He’s geeked after that, insisting that you match outfits from head to toe, including your hairstyle.

You rise from your spot and find a pair of black cargo pants with a white crop top to match Miles’ white graphic. You know he’s gonna force you to wear one of the billion pairs of matching Jordan’s you have, so you don’t even bother to pick some out. Miles grabs your hair products and sits on the edge of the bed while you sit on the floor, head resting in his lap as he parts your hair with nimble fingers.

“When’s the last time you washed yo hair?” He questioned as you felt oil dabble against your scalp. He’s giving you two braids, just like him, but you’ll probably end up taking the ends out and doing something else to it.

“Uhm, probably a week or two ago.”

“I can tell,” Miles nearly cackles as he starts a braid from your scalp, “Is this dandruff or lice?”

“Miles, you gon’ quit tryin’ me.” You rolled your eyes as you laughed with him, relaxing your head until he was finished.

Soon enough he was done, and you were popping earrings in and grabbing your purse as he stuffed his keys in his pocket, sliding his 11’s on.

“You ready?”

“Yeah, I’m ready.”

When you arrived, you walked closely next to Miles as Starboy by The Weeknd blasted through the speakers. People were scattered everywhere, girls on couches laid up next to men who wore sunglasses inside. People drinking and smoking in corners, the aroma of weed and liquor filling your senses as you adjusted to the environment. You shook the anxiety out of your limbs as you watched your boyfriend greet people you’ve never laid eyes on. He would always kiss you or introduce you as “his wife” or “his girl” to his friends, which made you lighten up a little.

The two of you settled on a couch, isolated from most of the crowd. Miles laid concerned eyes on you, “You good? You been actin’ weird ever since we got here.”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You lied through your teeth. Miles gives you a ‘Be serious’ look, lips flatlined and eyes disbelieving, “Mami, te conozco (I know you), so what’s up?”

You open your mouth to speak, but your hear your song come and you immediately stand up. Miles just stares at you with his jaw agape and you smile, biting your lip, “Comin’?”

“If I say no, it’s gon’ make you look single, so let’s go.” He laughs, grabbing your hand as you run to the dance floor. There’s already a circle full of girls dancing in the middle, and some of them you swear you’ve seen before. You push and shove your way into the middle, hips swaying and arms outlining your silhouette with grace and sensuality, Miles is watching you from afar with hearts practically bursting in his pupils, your laugh enchanting him to move closer to you. He wants to, but he also wants to give you a little space.

The circle eventually breaks up and you feel a pair of hands on your waist, hands you immediately recognize. You giggle as you hear him whisper close to you, “Wanna bounce?”

You hum questionably, “And go where?”

Miles’ hands trace against your waist, ghosting your figure until he gets to the curve of your bum. He buries his head in your neck and you can practically feel him smirk against your warm skin, “My place.”

“Nah,” you giggle,

“My song isn’t over.”

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦 ☻ thank you for reading!

𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐑-𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓🕷️: @queenesther996 //@sukunas-slutty-bitch // @c3f21 // @wydney // @rinnyisnothere // @brieryann // @moisttowllet // @Dee-m-cee // @liliummz // @starhrtz // @daisydark // @randomhoex // @solanawrld // @whore4hobie // @tanakaslastbraincell // @simp4miguell // @nyrovi3 // @my3tumbles

𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ✎: @Dee-m-cee // @euphorichappiness10 // @adoree-kaelynn

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sanjoongie · 3 months

Text

𝔻𝕒𝕪 𝔽𝕠𝕦𝕣: ℙ𝕦𝕓𝕝𝕚𝕔 𝕊𝕖𝕩

🥀Pairing: Cowboy! San x wise woman! Reader (f)

🥀Genre: Smut

🥀Rating: 18+, Minors Do not Interact

🥀Au: western au, cowboy au, witch au

🥀Trope: fwb to lovers

🥀Summary: When San comes to you, the local wise woman (read rumored witch), to get a bullet wound dressed, he's also looking to convince you to let him under your skirts, and your heart

🥀Kinks: Public sex, penetrative sex with no barrier, San's a sweetheart and a tease, yes the cowgirl position with cowboy san 😆, thicc dick san

🥀Warnings: mentions of a gun fight, bullet wound, blood, tending to wound

🥀Word Count: 1,931

🥀Betas: @mejuii

🥀Day Three: mirror sex 🥀Mini Masterlist 🥀Day Five: Dacryphilia

You were tending to your herb garden when San cantered down the road to your cabin tucked against the mountain. You raised your hand to block out the sun and knew immediately who was making so much dust your way. If you didn’t recognize his white horse dappled with gray or the way he tilted his hat, you sure recognized the big ol grin he sported, defined by his dimples.

“San,” You greeted him as he drew his horse abreast of you, dusting off the dirt on your skirts.

“Ma’am,” San tipped his hat graciously, and then winced.

You clucked your tongue immediately. “What kinda trouble did you get into now?!” You demanded.

San’s smile widened. “Just a few bandits trying to get away with Hongjoong’s cattle.”

You jerked your head to the shed you used to treat the few brave townfolk that dare come to you for any illness. They swore you were a witch but you were just educated--unheard of in these parts, but then again, that’s why you settled here.

San swung his leg over and dismounted from his horse. San clucked his tongue at Silver Light, and lightly wrapped the reins around the post before your cabin, letting the horse drink water from the trough.

“Can you even take your jacket off?” You scolded your new patient, washing your hands quickly with the lye soap you kept near the basin.

“I--” San hissed as he moved his arm again and you sighed heavily.

“When are you going to use any sense of self-preservation?” You said with your hands on your hips, after wiping them on a rag.

San paused jacket half pulled off, held up his elbows. Instead of answering your question he sent you a wounded look. “Help?”

You grumbled about men having less sense than a chicken but carefully helped him off with his heavy, long jacket. You cast an analytical eye over San’s injuries. “Lie to me, San.” It would be better if San kept himself distracted by talking.

San took a seat in the only chair in the shed and began to weave his tale. “Well you see, the bandits don’t have any wrangling experience so the herd was pretty much running with their own instincts and no matter of hooting or hollering was making those cows go where the bandits wanted them to,” San told you, more than happy to speak of a story that would probably make him look good in your eyes.

You fetched forceps to pull out the bullet clearly lodged in San’s arm and a bottle of whiskey. You splashed the forceps with some of the liquid before handing the bottle to San. He took a swig. It wasn’t his first time in your chair and it wouldn’t be the last, the damn fool. The only tells that he was hurting as you dug for the bullet were tiny creases at the corner of his eyes, but for the most part, he didn’t whimper or whine, not once.

By the time you had extracted the bullet, San had told you about leaping from Silver to the lead bull’s back and forcing it to turn by grabbing the bull’s horns firmly and turning its head. You rolled your eyes and San laughed, high-pitched and light, at your response.

You dipped a clean rag in some of the whiskey and dabbed at his wound. This time he groaned and you slanted a glare his way. San pushed out his lower lip. “Come on, Darling, give me some sympathy. I saved Hongjoong’s whole herd!”

You finished bandaging his arm up. “You will get no sympathy from me, Choi San,” You refused, “And what did I tell you about calling me darling?”

San’s good arm wrapped firmly around your waist and brought you onto his lap. “You told me to never call you darling again,” He told you solemnly. “But I can’t forget about that night we shared.”

You rubbed your eyebrow. “San,” You said his name in warning, “You can’t be associated with me. The whole damn town thinks you’re a local hero. If they think you’re warming the bed of the local witch--”

“I don’t care what they think,” San said, voice getting low and husky, “I care about--”

You laughed bitterly and got up. Or tried to. San’s damn arms, one injured or not, were strong. You weren’t a frail Bank Owner’s daughter but you still didn’t stand a chance against that man. “Let me go, San.”

San sighed, defeated, and let you go. “Okay, Darling, don’t get your skirts in a twist.”

You let out a screech of frustration and stomped out of the shed, slamming the door. San’s eyes were wide at your tantrum and your reaction only made him chase after you. “Wait, I didn’t--”

You made it to the well before San caught up with you. “No, you didn’t, San, and that’s the point. You don’t think and every day I see someone galloping up that road, I’m sure it’s going to be one of the other boys to tell me you got yourself injured or worse!”

“You keep talking like that a cowboy might start thinking you were soft on him,” San teased you.

“Don’t you start!” You waggled your finger at San. San was back to grinning again and you rolled your eyes again. “You’re incorrigible!”

“My mama always told me that,” San nodded, conceding to you. “But she also told me that if I ever found a woman who had a soft spot for me to--”

“San, no,” You shook your head. You turned around to lower the bucket into your well and draw up some new water.

San’s callused, uninjured hand covered yours on the well lip. “Darling, please.”

You shook your head. “You’ll be ostracized. They’ll spit on you. What if Hongjoong doesn’t want to employ you at his ranch anymore? We can’t get married, they won’t let me within yards of that church. Any children--”

San pushed your shoulder with his good one. “Children, huh?”

“San,” You said, “I’m serious.”

San’s eyes were hooded and your stomach dipped. “I’m serious too. Let me learn your body again, Darling?”

You swallowed, the lack of moisture having everything to do with the cowboy in front of you. You put your hands on his chest, smooth over the leather vest and then pulled him closer. “You’re going to regret this.”

A slow, crooked smile pulled at San’s lips, flashing his teeth at you. “I don’t regret anything I do in life, other than when I let you push me away the first time.”

His head dipped and he captured your lips between his. His kiss was slow and sensual, giving you all the time in the world to push him away if you chose so. And when you didn’t, he tilted his head to suck your lower lip between his. You moaned into his mouth. He chuckled against your lips and pulled away. “You’re gonna have to help me with your skirts, Darling. I’m one arm down and that’s a sin when I’m finally able to fuck you good.”

Your eyes widened. It was almost high noon and almost anyone could come this way. “San, surely not out here?”

“Yes, out here,” San said, husky voice only adding moisture to your nether regions.

“I’m not going to let you mount me like a damn saloon girl!” You protested.

San tilted your head up with his good hand and kissed you again, softly. “Give me a thrill, Witchy Woman. You know half the town doesn’t dare come up here ‘cuz they think you’re going to be naked and covered in chicken’s blood. It’ll be fine.”

“Get hard at the thought of that?” You challenged him.

“Hell yes,” He chuckled.

Your eyes scanned the outdoor area. There was a real soft patch of grass near the big oak tree. “You lie down, cowboy. I’m not the injured one.”

San wrapped an arm around your waist and meandered towards said tree, unwilling to let you go farther than an arms length from him again. “You gonna ride me, Darling?”

“San,” You growled a warning again.

San laughed again and your heart beat against your chest. “If I was afraid of a strong woman, I wouldn’t have come to you the first time I got beat up after that young stallion bucked me when I was trying to break him in?”

San laid down on the sweet patch of grass in front of your oak tree. He was already hard and pressed up against his jeans, chaps only outlining his hard-on. You freed his cock, and then pulled up your skirts to slot it against your wet entrance.

You sunk down on him, slowly taking his girth. San’s hand rubbed your hips through your skirts, encouraging you to take your time. Staring down his nose, he looked delectable lying under you. His arms bulged from restraining himself, free from his heavy jacket, and only his vest covering the ample chest you knew was under.

“S-san,” You stuttered, still struggling with getting him fully inside of you.

“Your cunt’s so sweet for me,” San cooed at you, biting down on his lip, “So wet and inviting. It’s like I’m coming home.”

“Shut up,” You said half-heartedly, “Who ever heard of a cowboy who waxed poetic. Aren’t you just supposed to grunt while you fuck me?”

San chuckled. “But you’re fucking me, rememeber?” San whimpered when your walls clamped down on his length at his remark. “You like being in charge, Darling?”

“You’re hardly--hnnnffff--in any position to not listen to me--ahhhhh--” You rolled your hips experimentally and found that you were wet and opened up enough to move.

“Gonna fuck me good, Darling?” San continued to encourage you. “Fuck,” He bit down aggressively on his bottom lip again, practically sucking it in, “You really do know how to use those hips of yours.”

“Hnnnnn--San,” You whined, “You’re too--oh god--” San had tensed his pelvis muscle and suddenly you were able to bounce more aggressively against him.

“Come on, sweetness, give me everything you’ve got.” San locked gazes with you. He practically had hearts in the center of each of his irises. Goddamn it, this man was so sweet on you, and you felt your walls melt under his adoring gaze.

Your knees were getting stained by the grass under you but you were past the point of caring. You worked San’s length inside of you until the both of you were a whimpering, whining mess. You came first, shouting his name and seeing stars behind your eyelids. San felt your walls flutter around him and then he was a goner as well, attempting to hold you down on his cock as he unloaded inside of you.

“That’s it, Darling, you milk me dry. It’s all for you,” San groaned loudly, eyes rolling into the back of his head. He was smiling like he was a cat with milk, however. “With that orgasm, I’ll be rolling out of your bed tomorrow morning, good as new.”

Your eyes widened at his declaration. Before you could protest, San shook his head. “I’m staying and you can’t talk me out of it. You gotta take care of me. I’m injured.”

You sighed heavily but this time it wasn’t serious at all. “You really are incorrigible, Choi San. What am I going to do with you?”

“It’d be nice if you fucked me when the sun is pretty and setting but that might be wishful thinking on my part,” San mumbled with an adorable pout.

🥀Day Three: mirror sex 🥀Mini Masterlist 🥀Day Five: Dacryphilia

#joongfryefff24 #kvanity #kwritersworldnet #pirateeznet #cultofdionysusnet #ateez smut #atz smut #choi san smut #choi san x reader #topaz's work #ღatz

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hellfire--cult · 10 months

Text

Banner and dividers by me

Hook!Eddie x Fem!Reader

Inspired by the many flicks: Peter Pan (Disney, 1953), Hook (1991) and Peter Pan (2003)

WC: 15.7k

Warnings: +18 Heavy depictions of depression and loneliness, mental health, sui*cidal thoughts, a lot of angst, amnesia, lots of fluff, pining, slight enemies to lovers, kissing and sex insinuation, also you will cry.

Summary: After your Grandmother's passing, you were left with her immense wealth and her big mansion, yet your loneliness didn't let you enjoy this new life, but before you could even begin living in it, you were snatched away, into the second star to the right, by a Captain who has a hook as a right hand.

A/N: I couldn't write anything that wasn't this. I am so sorry if this hurts you, but I just couldn't stop writing. I watched the 2003 flick and the music simply inspired me and I couldn't stop myself. I hope you enjoy this One Shot, AU thing, and I hope to write requests or little one shots of this couple in the future 😘

Please support me by hitting that Reblog button! 💚

Hooked On You

You were in this situation again.

Decisions.

Loneliness consumes you in every way possible, the massive marble walls, the columns around every room in the house, or should you say Mansion. This is not something you wanted or desired, but it fell on you and now the things seem too uncontrollable for you to handle.

It had no debt, it was well kept, it was tidy, with every room filled with furniture that will collect dust in the next few months, days, hours, minutes and there was no way to stop it because you do not want to waste your inheritance in cleaning services.

But no money, no mansion, nothing would compare to the one thing that mattered the most to you. The only person to ever be in your life despite it all, the one person that took you in when your mother decided you were not good enough, the one person that cared enough for you and even loved you as her own.

Your grandmother.

This was your childhood home, the one you spent days running around, playing hide and seek with her until she couldn’t walk no more, the one where you invited friends over to your pool, the one where you stayed until you turned 21 and decided on your own place, your own space. Now, you regretted ever leaving.

You talked with your grandmother, everyday on the phone, video calling her, and you knew you had just one another. It was just you two, against everything and everyone. You never knew that one day she would decide to go, by her own accord, sleeping peacefully on her bed. She didn’t have any illness, just weakness in her bones.

And she left everything to you.

Your grandmother had investments, actions, properties, she had it all, ever since a teenager she knew how to handle money well, but it was never about that. You preferred your grandmother’s baked pies rather than a new Barbie. You preferred your grandmother’s casserole over a new car, despite her buying you one at 16. You preferred your grandmother’s company, rather than a big party with friends from school who only wanted to be your friend because they knew you had money.

But now, it was all meaningless. It’s been two months since your grandmother’s departure, and this is the first time you would step into the house after everything had finally been settled with legal papers, a cleaning service leaving everything in impeccable state for you to move in.

What are you gonna do here all by yourself?

7 bedrooms, a dining room, a living room, a playroom, a kitchen, 3 bathrooms, 3 guest bathrooms, two floors, a pool, a huge backyard, and you were all alone in it.

All alone.

You looked all over the front of the massive staircase, deciding it was time to take your suitcase upstairs and settle in. Your heart aches with the thought of selling the house, because too many memories lingered in here, way too many that now turned into sad ones.

You opted for the second master bedroom, nicely decorated with a king sized bed, a big closet on one side and a vanity on the other. A 55” inch screen TV was on the wall, right above a dresser, in front of the bed. Your grandmother seems to have wanted to make the house a little bit more modern, changing the wooden walls with paper, to creamy tones, and delicate touches of wood and gold on the ridges at the bottom. Now technology pieces could be found in every room, and in the living room.

You dropped the suitcase on the floor, and sighed heavily, putting your hand on your forehead. You kneeled to the front small pocket of it to retrieve your xanax pills, the painkillers you got after the news of your grandmother’s passing. You looked at your watch and saw it was already 7 PM, so you didn’t really care if you went to bed early.

You stood back up and a tug in your heart made you walk out of your new room, the silence of the house engulfing you entirely as you walked the hallway to the room that was on the other end, passing by all the other ones and turning corners.

Your heart was beating loudly, going into your throat as you turned the knob of the room, opening it slowly.

She never touched it.

She didn’t do anything to her room. Her bed was still in the middle of it, the massive window at front, unlike yours that had two smaller ones on each side of the TV, and hers had a balcony even. Her bed had the same comforter you always loved, a pink floral one. The smell of the room was entirely her. The perfumes were still on her vanity, as well as her vintage makeup, a small library was next to her dresser that had a flower pot on top. Night tables on each side of the bed with their respective lamps.

You walked in, listening to the wooden floor creak under your feet and you sat on the bed, springy, just like you remembered. You bit your bottom lip as the lump in your throat got bigger and bigger but the tears would not come out. They never did. Not even when you received the news, not even at the crematory, not even when they gave you the deed.

Only panic attacks. Because you had realized, you were all alone.

You had no one. No family, no friends, no lover. Not even if you had tried to rekindle your relationship with your mother, who threw you out, at only ten years old, when your grandmother didn’t send in the money on time. No friends because your trust issues forbid you of it, and no lover because the last one you had was a leech for your money.

You looked down at the small orange flask that contained the pills inside. You got up and walked towards the bathroom, retrieving a glass from one of the cabinets and filling it with water. You opened the container and looked inside.

Decisions.

Always the same critical decision.

One? Two? Three? The whole flask?

Who would miss you? Nancy? She is just an acquaintance that you go out with sometimes. Robin? Just a friend of Nancy’s, she doesn’t consider you her friend, no matter if she sends you funny videos or invites you to hang out with her at her house.

Your mother? Who tried to contact you after hearing about her Ex’s mother passing and didn’t hear anything about a deed? Hearing nothing about her share? No, she only missed the money and the things it could get her.

You opened the cap and lingered there. Loneliness is the only thing present in your mind, in your heart, in your whole being and no money can fix that. Nothing can mend it.

Yet you take one single pill out, closing the cap again and putting it inside one of the pockets of your jacket. You chug the pill with the glass of water and look at yourself in the mirror. Your grandma’s eyes, not your mother’s, not your father’s, but your grandmother’s. You sighed as you stepped out of the bathroom, looking towards the hallway that would lead to your new room.

Yet you decide to go back into your grandmother’s bedroom. You sat on the bed, memories flashing in front of your eyes as you slowly closed them, remembering the bedtime stories she would tell you for you to fall asleep, right here on her bed. You smiled as you laid down on the springy bed, legs still hanging off of it.

“Grandma, Grandma!” You jumped on her bed after running into her room with tears in your eyes. She was reading a book, propped up on the bed, pillows behind her back to keep herself comfortable and her glasses resting on the bridge of her nose. She was startled by you, and the movement you provoked on her bed.

“You scared me dear!” She giggled as your 10 year old self hid under the covers right next to her.

“I had a bad dream…” You sniffed loudly as your Grandmother put her book on her night table as well as her glasses. She pulled the covers off your face to reveal tear stained cheeks that looked up at her. “Can I sleep here?”

“Of course you can love. You know I always enjoy you sleeping here with me.” She softly replies as she scoots closer to you, and you sit up, hugging her waist and your cheek rests on her chest. She wraps her arms around you, rocking gently from side to side, but you are wide awake. There was no chance for you to fall asleep.

“Tell me that story again Grandma!” You yell excitedly, looking up at her. She shakes her head with a laugh, looking down at you.

“Again? I recall telling you that story not many nights ago, little one.” You giggled at her answer and shook your head, a smile on your lips.

“I forgot about it, I want to hear it again!” You counter back at her and she sighs, scooting you closer to her.

“Alright… Listen close, okay?” You nodded and rested your chin on her chest as you looked up at her. “When I was young, around your age, I met a boy. A boy who came right through that window.” She pointed at the huge balcony that was in front of her bed, the windows open for the summer breeze to go right in.

“Was he cute?” You asked and she glared slightly at you, making you close your mouth for her to continue.

“He was. His name was Peter. Peter Pan. He flew inside my room, telling me I needed to help him get his shadow back. I really thought this curly headed boy was crazy, until I saw a small thing, coming through the window and flying all over my head. A fairy of some sort, and her name was Tinker Bell.”

“And was she pretty?” You asked with sparkles of amazement in your eyes, and she nodded with a smile to her face.

“Really pretty. She put pixie dust on my head and Peter took me flying, all over the city to help him get his shadow back. When we couldn’t find it, he asked me if I could help him find it back in his home. Little me, looking for adventure, wanted nothing more than that, so I followed him, to the second star to the right, up in the sky.”

“Into the sky?!” You yelled in excitement and she giggled with a nod.

“Soon, I was before an island, and I met three more boys, who were all living with Peter, in the middle of the woods. They were called The Lost Boys.”

“They are lost?” Your grandma looked towards the window with a distant look on her face and shrugged at you.

“They do not remember how they got there in the first place, but they didn’t mind, because there was a game they always played, a game with a bigger man. A man that had a hook instead of a right hand, a pirate, a captain. This man wanted to capture them, but the boys all treated it as a joke, like a little game of cat and mouse.” Your eyes started feeling heavy as your grandma kept going with her story, a yawn escaping your lips.

“What’s his name Grandma?” You asked before slumber took over you, and you could hear the distant voice of your grandmother softly whispering.

“His name was Captain Hook.”

The painkiller was starting to do its effects in your body, your eyes completely heavy under your eyelids as you remembered that story.

Your grandma always had a big imagination, sometimes she read stories from books, sometimes stories from someone else, and sometimes she would invent stories, just like that one, from her own head.

Your body sank into the mattress, and you knew you would fall asleep at any time now. You were wishing you wouldn’t dream of your grandmother while you were at it, because that would make tomorrow’s decisions a lot harder.

Your skin suddenly grew goosebumps from a sudden cold that invaded the room, but maybe it was a side effect from the painkiller. Your eyelids were too heavy for you to open and you really did not care that much to do so, a little breeze never made you sick. The night had simply gone colder, that was it.

Your hazy mind was slowly drifting away, the sound of a click in the distance, as well as some heavy boots walking on the wooden floor, creaking. A dream, you were already dreaming, because then you felt the tip of something sharp, along your cheek, but it was gentle, almost a caress.

And then, silence.

Warmth. You felt so warm right now. You must have gotten into bed in the middle of your sleep, because you just remember laying flat on the mattress, but now you were cozy under some comforters, sighing with relief at the warmth under them.

You could feel the sun coming from the window. Then some chirping, every now and then, and you just wanted to lay in bed, in this comfortable bed a little while longer. The birds were singing against your window, as well as seagulls calling each other while they flew by, the hit of waves splashing soothing you and–

Seagulls?

Waves?

And the comforter… The comforter smelled like… a man’s scent.

Your eyes shot open, the first thing seeing was the wooden cabin you were in, sitting up instantly as your heart beat anxiously in your chest. The bed you were in was double sized, big, with red fur comforters and blankets, and big pillows behind you. You looked around, seeing a very old desk on one side, with a chair and some papers on top. Your breathing starts picking up a pace as you instantly shoot out from the bed to look out the window.

You screamed bloody murder as you saw the sea.

The door flew open and you looked at it to see a man, brown hair with a red bandana on his head, freckles on his face, brown eyes, with a striped shirt and brown shorts. He was gorgeous but he was a fucking stranger, so you looked around to grab the first thing you could find.

A sword.

What the actual fuck? You didn’t even hesitate to point it at him but you were doubting your sanity at this point. Did the painkiller make you hallucinate shit now? Was it because you didn’t eat? Were you still asleep? Did you take one or two? The sword was heavy in your hands, this dream being the most realistic in your whole life.

“Um–” The man put his hands up, looking out the door. “Captain! She’s awake!” You heard him yell and that’s when you heard the heavy boots walking, right on top of you, making you look up. You followed the sound, moving your head as you now heard the steps going down some stairs, thump after thump.

“Yes, I heard her alright Smee.” You heard another man talk, and he walked through the door, his big red hat first, with feathers on top, a red cloak all over him with golden details and gun belts around his waist. He raised his head up, and your breath got stuck in your throat at just how handsome this man was.

Were you this lonely that now you had a pirate fantasy of some sort?

His curly black hair falling over his shoulders, and his mustache and beard covering his face. Brown eyes that were as deep as an ocean looked back at yours, as a smirk formed on his lips, seeing the sword you were holding in your hands. Your knees slightly buckled at the sight but you kept the weapon pointed at the two men.

“Now, now… No need to be so aggressive.” He says, keeping the grin on his face and you gulped, shaking your head.

“This is just a dream anyways, at least I’m going to protect myself in it!” You yell at him and he raises an eyebrow at you, tilting his head to the side, until he finally smiles and starts laughing out loud, making you frown in a state of absolute confusion.

“Smee! She thinks she is dreaming!” He continued laughing and your brain started working again as Smee started laughing with his ‘Captain’. Where did you hear that name before? Suddenly the black haired man stopped laughing, prompting his crew mate to stop as well. He took a step towards you, getting the sword in between the both of you and your eyes widened when he raised his arm up.

A hook was placed on the blade of the sword, pushing it aside. A hook where his right hand was supposed to be.

“No need to be feisty Wendy. Not today.” He sharply says and you blinked up at him, shaking your head slowly. No, wait, this is because you remembered your Grandmother’s story before completely passing out. That’s it, that’s definitely it!

You dropped the sword and looked at the desk, seeing that the papers were actually maps. You rushed towards it, getting hold of a compass, and before Smee could snatch it away from you, you stabbed yourself with the sharp end on your arm. You yelled loudly in pain, throwing it away from you, seeing the small prick you did on your skin, with a drop of blood oozing out.

“Captain, I think she is crazy.” You hear Smee talking but you were still looking down at your arm. The pain didn’t wake you up, in fact, it felt too real. The blood is too real. The cabin is too real. The two men in the room are too real. Your head looked out of the door, which was still open, and it let you see the light shining through it.

You slowly walked towards the door, seeing the light of day coming into view, and before Smee could stop you, his Captain didn’t let him, putting his left hand up to hold his stance and let you roam out.

The smell of sea and the sound of seagulls invaded your senses, and then the sun hit your eyes as you took the final step, up on deck. On deck. On a ship. On a pirate ship. Wind blew through your hair as you put your hand over your eyes to cover from the sun, and there it was. An island, there was land, but no buildings, no cities, no houses.

You looked up towards the sails of the ship, the main mast, the foremast, the shrouds, the delicate carvings on the wooden rails of the ship. The cannons on each side, but no other crew but the two men you just met. You walked down one of the stairs that were on the side, towards the middle of the ship, and everything was just too real, everything became real.

Because it was.

Fuck, it was real. You were on a pirate ship. In a fucking pirate ship, with men that your grandmother told you about in her stories. Fictional men, or men you believed were fictional, but are real? Does this mean your grandmother met them before?

“Wendy, I thought you would remember your stay here. Guess I was wrong.” You hear the man behind you and you turn around sharply, gulping heavily, a frown present on your eyebrows.

“I don’t know who Wendy is… Please take me home…” You voice out, in a frightened voice. You didn’t know where you were, you had an idea of where you might be, but you didn’t want to believe it, not for a single second. If this is a dream, then you were sure you took more than one painkiller this time and you just simply don’t remember.

“No need to play stupid Wendy, years may have gone by for you, but you’re unmistakable.” The man with a hook as a hand walked closer to you, as you stepped back one step, then two, your heart yelling at you to run, but where? There is water all around you, and you don’t even know what’s in it. There might be sharks, and if you remember correctly, crocodiles appeared in your grandmother’s story–

Your grandmother.

Your eyes widened and you could see the captain smiling widely under the shadow of his hat, giving you a nod.

“Yes. Those sharp eyes that looked at me with pity.” He says almost with venom in his voice and that’s when it all clicked.

It was all real. Your grandmother’s story, your grandmother’s adventure with Peter Pan and the lost boys, your grandmother who got captured by Smee and brought onboard of the ship. The ship that had a captain at the steering wheel.

Captain Hook.

“Holy shit…” You manage to blurt out and Smee’s eyes widened, looking at his captain as he looked back at his crewmate with a surprised look on his face, almost amused.

“Potty mouth you turned out to have Wendy.” You inspected the man before you, and remembered the story once again. Peter Pan had come to save your grandmother, along with the lost boys, but there was a piece of the story you remembered vividly. She had told you that the Captain didn’t look evil, or that held any malice towards the boys.

He just looked lonely.

When Peter and the boys finally brought your grandmother back to the island, she had said something to them, something you cannot remember now, and you always remembered this story, it was always in the back of your head whenever you went to sleep, but now your memory was failing you.

One thing was certain.

“I am not Wendy.” You say with a glare in your eyes, even if frightened, but you held your ground. Hook simply chuckled at you incredulously, and shook his head, pointing his hook at you.

“Who are you then?”

Your mouth opened and closed again, voice leaving you completely. Your name. Why don't you remember your name? You knew it before, and now you just don’t remember it anymore. Panic was crossed on your features at the realization, and your head started to spiral, breath cutting short, and the world was simply starting to spin.

Voices started going off in your head, warning you to run away, nothing is real, that you were no one right now, that there was no way you could survive here, and the same word repeated again. Alone, alone, alone, alone, alone.

“Captain!” Smee yells as he rushes to your side as you tumble to the ground, your breathing heavy as you choke for air, clawing at your chest. You need air, but there was plenty, all around you, but the oxygen was not going into your windpipe, no matter how hard you breathed, no matter how hard you were trying, it just wouldn’t calm down.

Hook took off his hat, dropping next to you as he propped you on his left arm, and with his hook, he put the hat on your head to shield you from the sun. He knew what was happening to you. Many nights he went through this same process, clawing at his chest in the middle of his sleep, wanting something, wanting to remember, but all he got were blank memories.

“Listen to the waves, to the breeze against the sails, to the creak of the boat as it rocks on the sea. Feel it, look up at the wide sky, the clouds slowly moving, and follow them.” You did as told, trying to focus your sight on just one cloud as your chest heaved up and down, trying to regain some control over your breathing.

The cloud moved, it was moving, and you followed it with your gaze, not realizing that your focus was now on that movement rather than trying to get your breathing back at a normal pace again. Slowly, it did, and when you realized that oxygen was getting inside your lungs again, you took a deep breath in, and out again, and repeated the action, finally noticing the shade that was covering you, feeling the heavy hat on your head.

Your focus first was on Smee, who had a worried frown on his eyebrows, his deep brown eyes full of concern. He has seen these episodes on his captain, but he never required help from him, just a jug of water afterwards. So he got up and did just that, running towards the kitchen under the deck.

Your eyes landed on another pair of brown ones, now seeing his features perfectly without the hat on his head. His eyes didn’t judge you, not in the least, as he held you with his left arm and you realized the closeness of the both of you. You tried to move, feeling your throat completely dry but something sharp on your cheek stopped you. Your eyes widened when you felt the tip of his hook on the plushness of your cheek.

“If you’re not Wendy… Who are you?” He asked, sternly, yet now without any venom in his voice, as if truly believing you are not the person he claims you to be. You blinked as tears welled up in your eyes, slowly shaking your head.

“I– I don’t remember…” You quietly replied to him, and he just stared down at you, his eyes twitching in thought until you both heard Smee’s steps coming back up. He dropped on his knees next to you, handing you a jug of wood, filled with water. You sit up, and immediately chug it down, feeling the freshness of it going down your throat.

Both men looked at one another and the Captain shook his head at his crewmate, Smee letting out a sigh out of his lips, before worry crossed over his features. Hook looked at you and almost let out a small smile at how ridiculous you looked with his big hat. Too big for your head.

You finally put the jug down, and looked forward towards the island. The fact that you don’t even remember who you are, actually made your nerves calm down, even if a tiny bit.

“Where am I?” You asked them and Smee began talking.

“You’re in Neverland.” You never heard that name before, turning to look at him.

“Neverland?” There was a panging in your chest though, something that was telling you that you shouldn’t be here, that this was not your place to be. “Can you take me back home?”

At that Smee winced, looking down at the floor. The Captain sighed, making you turn your head towards him with a worried look on your face. You were not liking the reactions you were getting from them at the mention of ‘Home’. Wherever that is.

“The only way to get you there, is by flying.” He says and you were staring at him as if he was demented of some sort. “Pixie dust. It makes you fly.”

“P-Pixie dust?” You ask again, not really digesting the words you were saying because it sounded so unrealistic but at the same time they didn’t. Hook nodded at you and then glared at Smee.

“But someone! Let Tinker Bell out of her lamp because he believed she needed to spread her wings.” Smee rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest.

“It’s not my fault! She was very persuasive!” The brown haired man tried to defend himself and your head was going back and forth on the both of them, like a ping pong match.

“She is a fairy, and we needed her captive in case this… shit happened.” Your eyes widened at the curse coming out from the captain. Didn’t he call you a potty mouth before?

“Fairies create Pixie dust. We used hers in order to bring you here with us.” Smee continued, looking down at the floor, and the puzzle finally assembled in your head. That fairy is gone, whose name sounded familiar, but it was your way out of the island. The heavy pang in your chest from the anxiety you were feeling was almost hurting you as you gulped heavily.

“S-So…? I’m going to stay here? Forever?” You ask and look straight into the captain’s eyes. He was looking at you already, and his pupils connected with yours, feeling your anxious feelings and your worry. He shook his head and gave you a sigh.

“As far as we know Tinker Bell still thinks you are Wendy, and Wendy was a dear friend of Tinker Bell’s friend. As soon as he comes to your rescue, we’ll snatch her again.” He says too confident in himself and you scrunch up your eyebrows, looking at him.

“And I wonder how long it will take for her to fly away again.” Your snappy attitude made him stare at you as if you had grown a plant over your head as Smee let out a laugh. The Captain gave you a mocking grin with a glare and snatched the hat from your head, not caring if he messed up your hair. He put it back on and rose to his feet.

“Keep that attitude and you’ll sleep in a cell.” You scoffed and stood up as well, flicking the feather from his hat with the tip of your index finger.

“The least you can do is give me a bed to sleep in! You kidnapped me, thinking I was someone else, and now, I can’t even remember my fucking name!” You yelled at him and Smee was on his feet in a second, his eyes wide at how you were yelling at his captain.

Hook’s eyes were staring at the girl, no, the woman before him, and now he knew this wasn’t the person he was looking for, yet, your eyes were still the same, and you were at her home. How many years have passed in your time? He took a deep breath in and sighed through his nose, looking towards Smee.

“We gotta get her some clothes. Take her measurements.” That’s all the Captain says before heading back into his headquarters. Your eyes followed his retreating back before the clearing of someone’s throat snapped you out from your thoughts, making you turn around to face Smee.

“May I take your measurements?”

The night on the ship was breezy, but warm all the while. You had helped Smee with dinner, chopping up onions and potatoes as he prepared a chicken in the casserole on the metal kitchen that had logs in the oven for heat.

And you took that chance to start a conversation with the brown haired boy.

“How long have you been here?” You ask and the man freezes slightly as he continues to stir the chicken in the pot.

“A long, long while. Time doesn’t go by in Neverland.” You frowned at that, because that would mean the man before you was probably a hundred years old, the same as the Captain of the ship. You took a deep breath in to hide your nervousness, to hide the fact that that would be your destiny if you don’t get out of here.

“And you don’t remember anything from before this? Were you born here?” You ask this time, and he stills, blinking down at the chicken. You gulped, realizing you had asked the wrong question and made him uncomfortable, but before you could continue, someone else talks in the kitchen.

“Stop asking questions that you really shouldn’t care about, and try this on.” You turned around just in time to receive a bunch of fabric thrown into your face. You growled in anger, pushing it off your face to see the captain now wearing a white blouse with puffed sleeves and a few buttons up his collar. A black bandana was around his head instead of the massive hat, and a pair of black slacks and his boots were at his bottom.

You almost forgot your anger at the sight.

“What’s this?” You asked, looking at the massive pile of… clothes?

“Go and try them on, use my headquarters.” You were still dumbfounded looking at the clothes on your arms and he rolled his eyes, grabbing your shoulders to drive you out of the kitchen and into the top deck, the breeze hitting you against your skin. You looked towards where his cabin was, and next to the door of his cabin, there were two more flights of stairs that guided you to the steering wheel.

You walked up, and opened his door, closing it behind you. You looked around and saw that the swords were gone, which made you roll your eyes, and then you saw another table that replaced the desk from before. It was an antique sewing machine. You blinked at that, and looked down at your clothes.

The Captain himself made these for you?

You gulped tightly a small lump that appeared in your throat and you started undressing, looking down at your underwear, a deep blush coming into your cheeks. How long were you going to stay here? You cannot use the same panties everyday, and you cannot, not even if you dared, to make Captain Hook make you a pair. Not possible. You’ll go commando while you wash them during the day.

You began putting the clothes on yourself, and just like his but a little tighter, he made you a shirt with puffy sleeves, and then a long brown skirt that hugged you on your waist. It looked like it had layers of the fabric over it as well, making it look a little less plain. You kept your combat boots on and looked at yourself in the mirror.

How can any of this be real? It cannot be. It really cannot be, but the fabric of the clothes on you feel way too realistic, and you had a panic attack as well, which should have woken you up. Yet you didn’t. Because this wasn’t a dream at all, and you were here, wearing pirate clothing in front of a mirror. You look towards his night table and see there was a red bandana on top of it.

You grabbed onto it and copied the way the Captain had it, tight around your head and covering your forehead. You looked at yourself in the mirror, and you couldn’t help but giggle, feeling like a little child dressing up for a costume party. Your stomach growled, the smell of the chicken being cooked filling the cabin through the round window.

You walked out of the room and back into the kitchen again, where the Captain was already sitting down at the end of the table, eating a piece of bread while Smee steered the casserole, his back towards you. Hook’s eyes looked up towards you and his chewing immediately stopped. The bread fell on the plate, and he cursed under his breath for acting like this.

But you were in fact a woman on his ship, and–

“It’s that my bandana?” He asks and Smee’s head immediately snaps towards you with a worried look on his face. You never steal a Captain’s belongings, even if it’s just an apple or a pen, you never do. You shrugged and sat down on the captain’s left, who was still shooting a glare towards you.

“I wanted to have an accessory, plus it hides my greasy hair.” Smee winced at your words, looking at the back of his captain’s head to wait for his explosive reaction, but it never came. He simply sighed, shaking his head and began eating his bread again.

“You don’t take my belongings without my consent first.” Hook knew that wasn’t the rule at all. You don’t even have to ask the Captain for permission to grab something of his, but for some reason he let you. Smee’s face contorted in confusion and returned to cooking, already done as he prepared the plates.

“So like, you guys hunt and stuff?” Smee nods as he hands the captain his plate full of food.

“Yeah, we fish too, and we take water from the lake that has pure natural water from the waterfall.” Smee explains as he prepares the plate for you. He brought it for you and a small ‘thanks’ came out of your lips. After he grabbed his own plate, he sat down in front of you and at his captain’s right.

You looked around and noticed since this afternoon that there were no more crewmates, and it was just these two men in front of you, so of course questions popped in your head.

“Why are you two the only ones on this ship?” You asked as the Captain took a potato in his mouth. He glared at you and pointed at you with the knife.

“If you don’t eat in the next ten minutes, I’ll take the plate away from you.” You glared at him but began eating anyway, Smee chuckling under his breath while he ate his food. It was actually delicious, and probably Smee had always been the cook on the ship. You had a smaller portion than the other two men, but it was enough and plenty, so you finished before them.

“It seems you enjoyed it.” Smee says and you couldn’t help but blush slightly at how fast you actually ate, despite the portion being smaller. You grabbed onto your jug and took a gulp, wincing when you realized it was pure rum.

“What the fuck!” You pulled it away from your lips as quickly as possible, and the Captain choked as he tried to stifle a laugh. You glared slightly at him, with a squint of your eyes. You don’t like your food with alcohol, it is a bad mix.

“We always have dinner with Rum. Feel free to grab anything else.” Hook says and you scoff with a roll of your eyes, grimacing at the jug. Smee knew you didn’t know where the water was, so he got up, grabbed a metal jug this time from one of the shelves and headed towards a barrel with a cork at the bottom. He unplugged it for water to come out and then plugged it again.

He headed back towards you with the water, handing it to you and you shot a warm smile up at him.

“At least someone is a gentleman around here.” You say out loud, taking a sip of your water as the black haired captain rolled his eyes and then glared at his crewmate who let out a laugh before shutting up. Smee sat back down to return to his food and the Captain did the same thing. You tapped your fingers on your jug and decided you had too many questions to remain quiet. “Are you two… you know.”

Both men put the forks and the knives down, well, just one fork down because the Captain used his own hook as one, slowly turning towards you. Hook had a death stare on his face that might as well kill you on the spot and Smee’s was simply a frown out of confusion.

“If we are what?” Smee asks while taking a sip of his rum and the Captain glares at him with a shake of his head.

“You know… you’re the only ones on the ship… Two lonely men at sea–” And that made Smee spit out the alcohol from his mouth at full speed to his side. The Captain pinched the bridge of his nose to contain his laughter, not at all angry at your question because if you say it like that, well… it does sound rather compromising.

His smile under his hand did not go unnoticed by you, catching it for the first time as a genuine look on him, and you swear you could see some dimples behind the facial hair. Smee on the other hand was coughing, hitting his chest with his fist to try to get the alcohol down.

“Shit–” Smee complains as he takes your jug of water to swallow down the burning sensation in his throat. You cover your mouth to stifle your giggles and you already knew the answer, thanks to their reactions.

“No. Even if there are no women here, we are not into each other.” You heard the captain say and you thought for a second, tilting your head as he took a sip out of his own jug of rum this time.

“Then, you’re both virgins?” Now water and rum were being spat to their sides, the captain’s spit almost getting you so you scooched away in time. You couldn’t help but simply crack up at the situation, both of them red in the face which also gave away their chastity.

“You don’t simply ask people you just met if they are virgins.” Smee says as he wipes his mouth with a kitchen towel, the Captain snatching it away from his hand and wiping his own, and a glare was being sent to you from over the fabric.

For some reason, you weren’t scared of these two men. Smee seemed genuinely kind and caring, not at all what a pirate should be. Captain Hook though, even if more fierce and more scary looking, he has a kindness behind his eyes that you couldn’t quite describe. There was another feeling to him, and even if he threatens you with taking away your bed, or your food, for some reason you know he won’t do that.

“So, there are literally no women here?” You ask and Smee looks at you in thought.

“Well, if you count the Sirens.” Your face lights up at that, smiling widely, eyes glazing with excitement.

“Sirens?! You guys have Sirens?! Can we go see them?!” The Captain scoffs with a roll of his eyes as he takes a sip out of his rum before talking.

“We do, but do you want us to die? You do know what sirens do, right?” Hook asks you and you glare at him, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Maybe they are different here and don’t enchant men with their beautiful voices.” You retorted and he just kept looking at you, so you stared back, both of you in a contest that you didn’t know what the prize was, but if he wasn’t going to look away, you weren’t going to either. You weren’t blinking, he wasn’t blinking. His eyes twitched slightly as he stared into yours, memories flashing in his mind, and he swore not much time had passed.

But maybe that was the illusion of Neverland.

For a second you saw the other emotion glazing over his eyes and you knew you could relate to it. Loneliness was displayed in his eyes, as well as disappointment, and he was so tired. Simply tired. That made your eyes burn slightly as your chest clenched from the sudden wave of emotions and you blinked, wincing at the burn as you rubbed your eyes.

“I win.” The Captain says and you couldn’t help but giggle, still rubbing your face, because he was following your game all along. Smee raised an eyebrow as he kept an eye on his Captain, who had a small tug on the corner of his lips raised upwards. Smee cleared his throat and the other two people at the table turned to look at him.

“What should we call you?” He asked and you blinked, scratching one of your eyes still. A hand came up to grab onto your wrist, warm and soft. You stopped the rubbing and looked up to see the Captain’s left hand grabbing onto you.

“If you keep rubbing it you’re gonna pop your eye out.” You locked eyes with him, completely shocked by his sudden touch and it seems he now realized he was grabbing you, pulling away as quickly as possible, almost as if he were zapped. You cleared your throat and looked at Smee with a shrug of your shoulders.

“I don’t know…” Smee was deep in thought and the Captain suddenly spoke.

“Bella.” He says and you blinked towards your lap, scrunching up your nose, not noticing the smirk on Smee’s lips as he looked away.

“As in Isabella?” You asked and the Captain shrugged, taking a sip out of his jug.

“Sure.”

The first few nights on the ship were full of nightmares, or maybe they were memories that wanted to claw their way out of your mind and your brain just wouldn’t let them. You woke up screaming, but you always found a glass of water next to your bed, the captain’s bed.

He had decided to give you his Cabin, his headquarters, because it was more fit for a woman rather than the crew’s headquarters. They were nice and private but you were still a woman, who they unwillingly took from the comfort of her home, so you should at least be comfortable.

Smee taught you how to fish properly, getting yourself a nice piece of fish for dinner. The Captain showed you how to make a proper knot, while Smee taught you how he sets sails and puts them away. It’s hard to do while being only one person, but the Captain also helps with that.

So now, on your seventh day aboard, the Captain had decided to finally set sail around the island for you to see.

“What’s that?” You pointed at a big rock that appeared to look like a skull. Smee had gone hunting into the forest, so it was just you and the captain now, his hands on the steering wheel. You were next to him, pointing at everything you were seeing.

“Skull rock. The indigenous tribe of the island go there for mining and resources.” Your eyes widened as you looked back at him.

“There are other people?!” You asked and he nodded, then shrugged.

“They aren’t keen on outsiders, so I didn’t have the chance to meet any in my lifetime. You see the smoke?” He asks as he looks to the side of skull rock and you squint your eyes to see the small line of smoke coming from inside the woods.

“Yeah! Is that where they are?” He gave you a nod and you hummed with curiosity. “Where is Peter Pan?” His eyes widened and he turned to look at you, startling you by his intense gaze.

“How do you know about Peter?” You were now as surprised as he was. How did you know? Who was Peter Pan? Lost Boys?

“You didn’t mention him before?” You asked him, now confused as to why his name came out of your mouth in the first place. He shook his head at you, the bandana over his head today as well instead of his hat. The sun was already setting, and the orange hues were hitting his complexion just right.

Your stomach was turning uncomfortably at his gaze, but it wasn’t something that made you scared, rather, it was the other way around. It was turning because of how beautiful he just looked. The wind moving his curls with its direction, and his eyes staring at you with wonder and curiosity in them.

“I said Tinker Bell’s friend. Never said his name.” You shrugged at him, shaking your head with a worried look on your face.

“I-I really don’t know…” He stood there, scanning your frame for a second. The past few days he had let his facade of being cold towards you slip, greatly. You two had the bantering still, but it always now ended with laughter, or giggles from your part, a smile on his face as he looked at you.

That was a new problem he encountered. He couldn’t stop looking at you.

“No. I don’t know where he and his friends hide, if I knew, I would have captured Tinker Bell a while ago.” Your heart stung at that. It sounded as if he wanted you gone for a while now, and for some reason you didn’t like that thought.

“You never answered me.” You say as you look towards the island again as he maneuvered the ship to start rounding it again. His eyebrows went into the middle of his forehead in a confused frown.

“What answer?”

“Why is it just you and Smee?” You ask again as you lean against the rail of the ship, looking at the horizon. The Captain keeps silent, gripping onto the steering wheel very tightly, his knuckles turning white on his left hand. For some reason, he didn’t want to tell you at first, and he didn’t want to tell you now either, but he knew it was an unavoidable topic.

“None of us remember our names. My name is not Hook, or Smee’s, or Peter’s… Those aren’t our real names, just like yours isn’t Bella.” He started explaining and you turned around to look at him as he sailed. “I had 9 men on my ship, counting Smee. Suddenly, one by one, they started to remember their names, and the next day, they were gone.”

You stared at the floor next, your brain working as you thought about his words. They were gone… Where? Did they disappear? Were they never real? Or… Did they go back home? Your eyes widened as your head snapped towards him again, and he was already looking at you.

“So–”

“If you remember your name, you go back to your world.” He says to you, the hand still on the steering wheel as his right arm hangs on his side, his hook glinting with the sun. You felt your eyes stinging with that realization, but also because you didn’t actually remember your name. You didn’t even know if you ever would remember it again, so the pixie dust seemed like the better choice.

He was still looking at you, seeing your eyes filling up with tears, looking down at the floor. His heart clenched inside his chest and he almost winced at the new pain. He groaned slightly as he looked forward again, checking if rocks were anywhere to be seen.

“Yeah, well… I don’t think I’ll ever remember it so…” You say sadly, feeling that you were abandoning some kind of home you had to go back to, but you weren’t able to. Feeling some kind of hopelessness in your heart. The Captain put his hook around one of the handles of the Steering wheel and he stretched his left hand at you.

“Come here.” He commands and you wipe your face in case a tear falls down, and you stretch your right hand to him. He held it gently in his large palm, and you felt a shock running along your arm and towards your spine as he pulled you towards him. He positioned you in between him and the wheel, placing your right hand on one of the handles of it, taking away his hook, and then he positioned your left one, but he kept his hand over yours to help with the guiding.

Your eyes were wide at the proximity and by just how intimate this was. Your small hands wrapped around the handles, and your left one had a double grip thanks to his hand over yours. His chest was not touching you, but he was close, and you were afraid he could hear your heart beating furiously and loudly.

“Driving this in a storm is quite the trouble. The steering wheel becomes harder to move, but with calm waters it sails as if it were on butter.” He says, and his voice was so smooth on your ears, so calm and gentle, unlike the first time you two met. You suddenly felt the power you were holding, such a big machine under your fingertips, and it sailed because of you, and your guidance. Your eyes sparkled with emotion and joy as you looked forward.

“This is so beautiful…” And the Captain once again, looked down at you, at the crown of your head. He didn’t know that their soap would smell so good, it was something homemade with flowers and animal fat, yet you made it smell like a perfume. His left hand left yours and it slid down your arm to rest on your waist, not putting much pressure onto it, just enough to hold him steady behind you.

You noticed of course, a deep blush running over your cheeks. There were so many questions you wanted to ask him, but you wanted to stay like this a little bit longer. His hand on you, and his chest almost pressing against your back as he gently guided you through the waves.

Just a little bit longer.

“SO COME AND SIGN THE BOOK, JOIN UP WITH CAPTAIN HOOK!” Smee sings loudly, face flushed as he danced around you and the captain, who were laughing at him as he drunkenly sang the Captain’s theme on deck, the three of you with a lamp in the middle as stars gazed down on you.

You were clapping as you sat on a wooden box, the rum already made a buzz appear in your mind but Smee was completely plastered. It’s been a month since you were on the ship, and Smee had decided that it was time to make you a crew member. He finally sat back down with an ‘oof’ as he grabbed onto the book that was sitting next to his wooden box.

The captain’s eyes followed when Smee opened the book and grabbed onto the feather pen, already with ink, for you to sign yourself in. He handed both things to you and you looked down at the pages, seeing many names, more than 9. This happened many times then, people coming and going away.

Hook was about to tell you that there was no obligation to do so, but you grabbed the pen and signed with the name Bella under all the names. You smiled down at it, a warmth invading your chest that you didn’t feel in so long. A warmth you’ve been seeking for some time now, even before landing here.

“YOU’RE PART OF THE CREW MATEY!” Smee yells excitedly as he grabs the book and shows his Captain. You were giggling with flushed cheeks as you took another sip of your jug and when you pulled it down, the black haired man was staring at you with a kind smile to his face. “I think I’m gonna pass out…” And just like that, a big thud was heard and the Captain and you looked at Smee alarmingly, seeing him on the floor with his legs on the wooden stool still, but deep snores were coming out of his mouth, with the book on his face.

You couldn’t help but crack up laughing at the sight, and a hiccup came out of your mouth, making you cover it quickly with your free hand in complete embarrassment, but you weren’t ready to finally listen to the Captain let out a big laugh at the sound. His cheeks were flushed like yours, but he could handle his liquor a lot better.

“That was a cute noise, Bella.” He says as he takes a sip out of his jug. You glare at him only for your smile to betray you, and giggle as the kick of the rum still swirled in your head. He was staring at you, no longer being able to contain his smile towards you. For the past month, you had helped with the cooking, with the cleaning of the ship, you even ventured to set sails, climbing onto the ropes to help Steve.

And he prepared more clothes for you, even underwear, which made him blush, but it was necessary for you. He didn’t mind at all, and in fact, made him have hope that you wouldn’t disappear that easily, that you would stay longer, because they hadn’t even looked for Tinker Bell, nor you didn’t care. It seems Peter also realized you weren’t the person from years ago, and he didn’t even dare to save you.

“Hey, how did ya’ get yer’ hook?” He couldn’t help but laugh at your bad impersonation of Pirate slang, but now you were one, so you were trying to look the part.

“Third day hunting. Crocodile got me, felt amazing, like you wouldn’t believe.” He said sarcastically which made you frown in sadness and he shook his head at you. There you were again, feeling sad for him, as well as you felt happy for him when he returned from hunting, as well as you felt excited for him when he won a game of cards against Smee.

“Damn… that sounds... gorey.” Hook laughed at that with a nod. The rum was making your head swirl, but it made your inner thoughts become clearer to you. You were looking at the Captain with different eyes than a month ago, and you were hoping he was looking at you in the same way, you were yearning for it. For him. “Captain?”

“Hmm?”

“Can I give you a kiss?” His eyes scrunched a bit before widening. His stomach turned as your sight moved from his eyes to his lips, and he would be lying if he hadn’t thought of it for the past few weeks, but he didn’t want to scare you. He didn’t want you to think he was doing this because you were a woman.

You were more than that.

“You sure it isn’t a thimble?” He joked, remembering a story from a long time ago, said to him by the person that he claimed you to be. Your eyebrows furrowed at that, but a small smile appeared on your face as you scooted next to him, and you looked to your side and up to be able to look at him.

“If you want to call it that…” Your eyes were hazy with alcohol and the butterflies were flying around your belly as you slowly leaned in towards him. His breathing picked up, looking down at you with the new found feeling he had been clawing for all this time, leaning down, slowly towards you.

A loud snore interrupted you both, startling you and straightening up to look forward towards Smee, who raised his head up to look at the both of you. You were a blushing mess, even more than with the alcohol and the Captain was looking away from you, feeling embarrassment deep in his chest as well as disappointment.

“Is there more Rum?” Smee asks with a slur and you couldn’t help but crack up at that, the moment completely gone and the Captain simply smiles at you, wholeheartedly. This feeling was new, completely taking over him, and he was embracing it, because it was a happiness he hadn’t felt in way too long.

He didn’t feel lonely. For the first time in what felt like forever.

You groaned loudly as your head banged from the previous day. You had too much to drink and now you were suffering the consequences. You laughed sleepily, knowing Smee was having it worse most likely. You got up from the bed, stretching your arms only for them to hit the top of a… ceiling?

You scrunch your face and slowly open your eyes, noticing you were in some underground room? You looked all around, panic setting in, just like a month ago as you walked all around the small area.

You heard a tinking noise, like little bells ringing, and then you saw it, a light flying towards you and when it finally stopped right on your face, you saw her. Small, little, with wings on her back.

Tinker Bell.

“She’s awake! Peter!” You heard a kid yell and when you turned around, going down a slide and into the room appeared three boys, all dressed with fur made clothes, and some accessories. They all stood before you, and you can see they looked like they were 11 or 12 years old.

“Hi! I’m Pockets!” The boy with a bowl cut greeted you. “But I bet you remember me!” You frowned at that and then the other two came forward.

“I’m Ace!” The boy with a slingshot in his hand said while the other one, a little bit more snarky with attitude, rolled his eyes.

“I’m Latchboy.” The black haired kid said. You were completely shocked as to where you were, but you couldn’t help the tugging feeling of longing. You weren’t supposed to be here, you didn’t want to be here, but at the same time, you did.

“I’m– Bella.” You said and the boys frowned, looking at each other and pointing at you.

“You aren’t Wendy?” You shook your head at them and finally, the last boy came in, but not sliding in like the rest, but flying from the hole of the slide and into the room. His curly hair with a green cap on top and green suit as he lowered himself down in front of you.

“What do you mean you’re not Wendy?” He asked with an angered frown to his face. You squint your eyes as you looked at the boy, tilting your head slightly in thought.

“Peter?” You asked and his eyes widened, looking at all the boys around him. You heard the bells ringing again as Tinker Bell stood on Peter’s right shoulder.

“I know you warned us Tink, but she just said my name without introducing myself!” The little bells sounded angry as the yellow glow turned red on Peter’s shoulder. He shook his head and gave her a wave to fly away. “Don’t mind her, but how do you know my name if you aren’t Wendy?”

“I– I don’t know, I don’t remember my real name either.” You said to the boys and they all sighed looking at one another. You were fidgety, wanting to return to your ship, to your new home, to your new family. “Why are you all looking for Wendy so badly?”

“I just…” Peter was looking down with tears in his eyes as he rubbed them gently. “Wendy promised us, all of us, that she would take us home with her. But one day she was just gone. When I went to look for her at her home, she wasn’t there anymore.” You were confused at that, and you realized that this Wendy must have remembered her name, and she couldn’t fulfill her promise. You sighed as you looked at all the boys' dejected faces.

“She was going to be our new mother.” The three other boys said in unison. Something stirred inside of you, and it was a tight tug to your heartstrings. For some reason, you couldn’t help but feel like these kids needed you, that these kids right now needed someone to hold them.

So that’s what you did, you opened your arms to welcome them all into a tight hug. You felt your tears well up as you rubbed their heads gently as they hugged you. The sorrow you were feeling in your chest just appeared like a hole, carving itself in.

You wished you knew where your previous home was, but you cannot promise them what Wendy had, but you can try to make them feel better. You pulled them away and got to eye level with them.

“Do you guys want to hear a story?” And they all cheered at that, going towards their beds as you began telling them a story about a man, who was super strong and that had the ability to fly like Peter but with no Pixie Dust. You don’t really know if you were inventing the story or if it was a distant memory, but you could invent things here and there.

Then, you cooked Dinner for them.

Afterwards you helped them get into their pajamas.

And then, you were asleep with the whole group.

The next day, you cooked breakfast for them as they told you stories about their adventures and how the natives were really nice to them for helping them with some hunting or construction.

“Bella!” Peter called you, guiding you up from the hidden place, and for the first time you could smell the fresh air, seeing that their home was hidden under a big tree. “Do you know how to fly?” He asks you and you raise an eyebrow up, looking at him.

“No…” He smiles at you, his eyes almost closing by how wide he was smiling and he suddenly hovers up in the air, you watching with fascination as he flies around you.

“It’s easy! You just need Faith, trust and pixie dust! Just think of happy thoughts!” He says while pretending to swim in the air and you giggle at his antics. Your eyes widened when you heard a distant yell, a very recognizable one and your head whipped to look for it.

It was Smee, he was calling out to you. Your family… Your ship. The Captain.

“You’re already leaving?” You turned to see Peter, now standing in front of you, and your eyes filled with tears as you stared at him. You crouched down, rubbing his cheek gently.

“Yes, but I’ll be here, on the ship…”

“But if you don’t? Will you leave forever?” Your eyes widened at that, feeling the emptiness open in your chest again and you shook your head wildly at that.

“No, no… If I ever disappear, ask… Ask Captain Hook, he knows where I am, where I might be… So I beg you, to look for me, all of you.” You say to the small boy who only gave you a small smile and a nod. He instantly dipped back into the small hole, disappearing under the tree.

Your breathing picked up as you turned and followed Smee’s voice, coming loudly from inside the forest, almost desperate. Your heart was banging in your chest, thinking about him but also, thinking about your Captain, about his brown eyes, about his kindness.

“BELLA!” Smee yelled as he saw you running towards him. His under eyes were filled with bags from the lack of sleep, looking everywhere for you alongside Hook, but he finally saw you alive and well, taking you into his arms as you both collided together.

“I’m so sorry!” You yelled with tears streaming down your face, and he shook his head as he hugged you tightly, his own eyes burning from the tears forming in his eyes.

“No! Don’t be sorry! Where were you!?” He asked, pulling away to look at you, hands on your shoulders as he looked at you.

“Peter and the lost boys! They must have sneaked in and–”

“The captain is on the ship!” He almost yells, desperately and you knew you had to return to him. You deeply wanted to return to him. You turned to start running but little bells ringing filled your ears as you saw a small light flying towards you at high speed.

“Tink!” You yelled and Smee’s eyes widened as the fairy flew all around you, pixie dust falling on your head and your body. You coughed slightly but as soon as you saw her, she flew away. You turned to Smee and nodded at him to start running. He was looking at you worriedly but followed you to go towards the small boat he docked at the shore.

You needed to get back to him, your heart on your throat as the memories with him filled your mind, the laughter, the stories about how he played with Peter and the Lost boys, yesterday night when he was leaning towards you with longing in his eyes that resembled the one that was in your heart.

“BELLA!” You heard Smee yell and when you turned around, you didn’t see him at your eye level, but below you. Your eyes widened as you looked down towards the floor, which was a few feet from your body, floating in the air. You screamed and almost fell to the ground, wobbling mid air.

Your eyes fixed forward, and you could see the flag at the very top of the ship, far away. You took a deep breath in, feeling your body as light as a feather, as the yearning became stronger each second you floated, each second you inched closer to the ship, each time you remembered the Captain’s eyes.

Said Captain was pacing back and forth on the deck, his long hair now tied with his bandana in a low ponytail, his left hand running over his face as the panic from waking up yesterday and not finding you in his bed seeped through his pores. He didn’t want to think about it. He didn’t want to believe you remembered your name.

He cannot even begin to explain the hole that his chest cavity was beginning to form. What is he going to do with you gone? This is not something he had planned, the feelings that you brought in this ship, within him, were not something that he ever thought of happening before.

He raised his head up and his eyes widened when he saw a figure flying towards the ship. It wasn’t a small frame, not a child’s. His heart wanted to come out of his chest as he saw you flying towards him, clumsily, but still flying towards the ship. He immediately spread his arms, moving forward as you came closer, his eyebrows pinched into a frown with worry, with surprise, with happiness.

You smiled widely at seeing him, lowering yourself as you flew, right into his arms, your own wrapping around his waist as your feet touched the wooden deck. Your tears were slipping out of your eyes as he closed his arms around your frame, making sure his hook doesn’t prick you or hurt you, but his left hand was splayed around your back, pushing you close against him as if you were his life line.

He clenched his eyes as you sobbed into his chest, his left hand now going up towards your head to cradle you into him. You could hear how fast his heart was beating, how loud it was, and your body shook with electricity at his touch. Seconds, minutes passed where you both held each other like this, until he slowly pulled your face away to look down at you. His eyes displayed confusion with a frown to his eyebrows.

“Y-You were flying…” He softly mumbles and you sniffle as you look up at him, cheeks flushed as your belly starts jumping all around at seeing him.

“Y-Yes and–”

“Why didn’t you go home you silly girl?” He asked, terror in his voice, almost trembling as he spoke, and your eyes widened. You could have gone… home? What is home? Where did he mean?

“T-This is my home… With Smee… With you.” You raised a hand to caress his cheek, the feelings overflowing your heart as you thought of him, as you saw him, as you felt him. Whatever your past was, whatever your past home was, whoever people you had, they didn’t matter. You knew that you never felt something like this, with no one, with anything. You knew the feelings inside of you right now were not there before arriving here.

You knew you were miserable before landing here. That’s all you knew.

His eyes filled with tears as he stared down at you, for the first time feeling his heart fill up with joy, with care, with want, with desire, and most of all, with love. He had Smee, and he was grateful for him, but it could not compare. What he was feeling for you at this moment, what he has been feeling for you the past few weeks, does not compare.

So he leaned down, almost desperately, wantonly, and pressed his lips against yours, fulfilling your request from last night. You had the chance to leave, you had the chance to fly away, you had the chance to never see this place again, yet you chose him. You chose this family. You chose to stay.

You kissed him back just as desperate, an electric feeling engulfing your body from head to toe, your hand finding the back of his neck to pull him closer to you, if that was even possible. This man who looked right out of a fairytale, was the man that became your home. He made you feel at home, not at all a prisoner, not at all as if you were being held against your will.

Because there was nothing you wanted more than to be in his arms. Than to feel his lips moving against yours the way they are doing now, his body heat mixing with yours as the sound of the waves filled the background noise of you two.

A clear of throat made you both snap out from your kiss, pulling away from it and turning your heads to see Smee at the edge of the ship, from where the stairs were located with a grin to his face. You flushed a deep red, your breath completely heavy as the Captain glared at his crewmate.

“Saw it coming a mile away, just saying.” He raised his hands up in his defense and immediately rushed downstairs to his room. Your face was turned by a cold metal, your Captain’s hook on your cheek to look at him again.

“I am not letting you go Bella, be aware of that.” He says with a smile to his face and you giggle, your breath hitting his lips and he was ready to dive in again into a kiss but you stopped him.

“Hey, why Bella?” You asked him and he grinned at you, but before he could talk, his mouth opening to do so, he was interrupted.

“It means Beautiful. Sorry, forgot my pistol on the boat.” Smee says with a smirk as he heads towards the stairs again. Your captain groaned in exasperation and he pulled away from you, heading towards Smee who was bending over to start going down the stairs. Hook put a foot up and kicked his crewmate on his butt, sending him off the edge and down into the water. You gasped audibly, covering your mouth with your hands as worry crossed your features.

“THAT WAS NOT NICE!” You heard from afar and your captain laughed at that, which made you giggle, catching his attention. He immediately rushed towards you to pull you into another kiss.

He wasn’t going to get tired of that.

A month. One more month.

You were happy, content, as you tied the knots of the sails to the edges of the ship with the help of Smee, the moon already beaming in the sky as well as the stars sparkled above you.

“I’m just saying, you can tell us, and the game would be even more fun!” Smee says and you shook your head with a giggle, finishing your knot.

“I will not tell you their location. The game wouldn’t be fun like that!” You say and he sighs, finishing his own knots as well. For the past month, you had participated in the game of catching the lost boys and Peter, alongside your Captain and Smee. The boys often decided to kidnap you so you would tell them stories and make them food, tuck them into bed at night before Tink would give you pixie dust so you could fly back to the ship.

The Captain rejoiced everytime he found you in the game, instead of you going back willingly. This game is what kept them alive, what kept them enjoying the days, the immortality you all had. Smee has been trying to coarse the information of Peter’s home for the past month with no luck.

“Are the sails secured?” You heard your Captain call and Smee stood tall next to you, giving him a nod. He knew what those words were, so he gave you a wink, before brushing next to you to head towards his headquarters. The Captain looked at you with a playful look in his eyes as he walked towards you.

Your relationship became that of intimate, just kissing, but everytime it escalated more and more, and you both knew that. You never expressed your feelings for him, and neither did he, but you both also knew that it was there. Peter always teased the Captain about your relationship, flying around him to make kissy noises at him, while he tried to swat him away.

“Are my knots okay, Captain?” You asked in a sultry tone, rocking on your feet as he walked closer to you, wrapping his left arm around your waist to pull you closer. A black shirt with loosened strings at his collar which let you see some of his chest hair, puffy sleeves like always, loosened at his wrists, and his hair tied in a low pony tail.

“Perfect even.” He whispered before leaning down and taking your lips with his. You breathed contently against him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders to pull him into you as your stomach exploded in butterflies and the word of your feelings sat in your throat.

His lips moved against yours, and his right arm wrapped around you, always keeping his hook at a distance from your body, but sometimes the tip of it would graze your waist and it would send currents of electric shocks through your body. The hit of waves against the ship made it rock slightly, very slightly, almost unnoticeable thanks to the size of it.

Your heart was beating on your ears almost as the kiss progressed, the moon being your witness only as well as the many stars that flicker around it. His tongue doing magic against yours as your body increased in heat and in desire, pulling away to look at him breathlessly.

“Captain…” You mumbled, and he pecked your lips first to then start pecking your cheek, then again, then lower onto your jaw, until he pressed a kiss against your neck, on your pulse point.

“Hmm…?” He asked against your skin and you bit your lip as nervousness but excitement filled your belly.

“Come to my cabin tonight…?” You ask through a heavy breath and his kissing stopped. He slowly pulled away to look at your face, and your eyes were glossed over with adrenaline and desire, much alike to his. His stomach was in knots as well as his heart jumped with happiness, nervousness and anticipation.

He gave you a slow nod, and you felt your whole body burning at the confirmation. You pulled away from him to grab his left hand, guiding you both towards your headquarters, his old cabin, and as you closed the door behind you both, the rest of the night was filled with jagged breaths, moans, becoming one, your hearts joining, your lips swelling, and feeling the love you had for one another.

Because right now, this right here was all it mattered. All you ever wanted.

You slowly awoke, your eyes fluttering open at the sound of seagulls, as an arm was wrapped around your waist from behind, the right arm that had no hook, because he always took it off before sleeping, under the many blankets the bed possessed.

You smiled sleepily as you looked over your shoulder to see your captain, sleeping soundly, soft snores escaping his lips, with his hair all over the pillows and his bare chest pressed against your naked back.

You untangled yourself from him, wanting to start breakfast and he let you go with a groan and a stir in his sleep. You got out of bed, stretching your limbs and looked down at the various love bites all over your body, smiling widely at them. Last night was magical, for the both of you, and you just cannot wait for more of it, for more nights like that, for more days like that.

Maybe even give him a family.

You blushed at the thought and stood up, pulling your underwear and your slacks on, as well as your shirt from yesterday. A bath is going to be nice first, so might as well prepare that before cooking some breakfast.

You walked towards your, his, closet and started grabbing onto your clothes for after your bath, but something fell, something heavy. You looked down and noticed a leather like black coat? You bent down to grab it and when you did something fell off from one of its pockets. You grabbed said thing, an orange capsule, or was it a flask of some sort with a white cap on. You tilted your head in confusion, turning it around to find words stuck to the orange–

Your eyes widened at the words.

Sharp pains started banging on your head as you re-read it, over and over again, a shock striking your brain at full speed, and your heart stopped, it completely stopped and the blood in your body drained, making you feel light headed.

“No… No, no, no!” You yelled loudly, and that made Hook sit up alarmingly, awoken from his slumber. He saw you in front of your closet, holding onto your head and then something on your other hand. He got up, almost like lightning, throwing his slacks on with one hand and rushing towards you.

“What’s wrong?!” He exclaimed worriedly as he saw the tears running down your face as you shook uncontrollably. Your sobs ripped from your chest as you looked up at him, making the pain even more unbearable in your chest. You gave him the flask and he grabbed it with his left hand, looking down at it with a confused frown on his face.

“M-My na–” You couldn’t even say it, the feelings from before coming to Neverland strangling your throat as your head swirled. He read the sticker on the flask and he immediately knew. He knew, because his heart sunk down to his stomach.

Your name was stuck to that flask. You remembered your name.

You remembered everything. You remembered your past home. You remembered the people you met. You remembered your mother. You remembered your friends. You remembered–

“Sweetheart–”

“M-My grandmother’s– grandmother’s name, was Gwendolin.” You say in almost a whisper, shock crossing your features as well as the Captain’s. Gwen… Wendy.

Your grandmother was Wendy.

The flask was dropped and his left hand held your cheek, pushing his forehead against yours. The pain in his chest increased as his eyes filled with tears, the sobs that wanted to rip out of his throat, threatening to be as loud as yours.

“Look at me, please look at me.” He begged and you looked up to meet his eyes, as tears streamed down your faces, shaking your head in denial at what was going to happen next.

“I don’t want to go… Please, I don’t want to go! I don’t– I don’t want to leave you! I don’t want to leave here–” You sobbed out, your arms wrapping around him as your small frame trembled with fear, with sadness, with despair, with the anger of not being able to stop this. He wrapped his arm around you, pulling you into him.

“Don’t– Don’t worry–” He doesn’t even know what to say, because losing you was the worst thing that has ever happened to him. You were his home, his person, his all, and he was going to lose you.

“Come with me– Come with me please, please!” You begged, pulling your head away from his chest to look up at him, desperation written in your features and another wave of sadness invaded him, as fresh tears spilled out from his eyes.

“I can’t stay– If I don’t remember my name, I will just be pulled into this land again…” He says in a low voice, trying to speak through the rippling sobs that escape his lips, sobs he cannot contain any longer. His heart was breaking, each second now counted, because you were going to leave, at any time.

“Please, please, there has to be a way–” You sobbed out, asking for the gods to hear you, to anyone to hear you, to this realm to hear you. You needed him with you, you needed Smee with you, you needed the kids with you, because if you didn’t, you were going to be all alone again.

Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone.

“I’m– I’m sorry sweet–” He started but you interrupted, knowing there was not enough time.

“I love you. I love you. I love you so much. Don’t leave me, please…” You blurt out, your head dipping into his chest as you sobbed, rocking back and forth. His own heart fluttered at your words, against the pain, but it made his tears come harder, his sobs cutting his breath.

“And I love you darling, I love you.” He managed to say and he felt your body slowly stop shaking, his arms feeling you slumping against him, your sobs calming down.

“I don’t want to go– I don’t want to sleep… I don’t, please don’t let me–” But he knew it was too late as he clenched his eyes shut to brace for the pain that would hit him.

The pain that will hit him when you close your eyes.

You stirred.

You groaned.

You moved your head as consciousness filled it.

Where were you?

There were no waves, no seagulls, no birds chirping, no slow rocking.

Your eyes shot open as you realized the position you were in. You were sprawled on your grandmother’s bed, your old clothes hugging you tightly, as well as your jacket that contained the flask in one of your pockets.

You quickly sat up, looking towards the window that was now wide open, the breeze coming in, moving the curtains away. You immediately leaped up from the bed, rushing in urgency towards the balcony, your eyes filling with tears as they looked up at the night sky.

Was it all a dream? It cannot be, because the longing in your chest was there, the hole that now vacated it was there, the sadness and the loneliness was invading you worse than before. You can’t deal with this again, not again. You looked down at your body, opening the collar of your shirt, seeing the marks on your skin, and that’s when the sobbing started, heavy, your chest exploding with emotions as you fell on the big balcony’s floor.

“Please, please, remember your name, please…” You wished upon that second star to the right. You wished, and wished as it gleamed next to the large moon. Your hands shook against your chest as you held it to calm your heart, to calm the pain, to try to numb it, but you couldn’t.

And you couldn’t.

Not even if three days had passed, and it was all circling back again, spiraling. The word rings in your head as the furniture collects dust in each room, and your stomach makes you throw up at any random time of the day.

Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone.

And it all turned to the same word, to the same reflection in the mirror as you held the orange flask in your hand, looking down at the pile of pills inside of it.

Decisions.

A loud knocking on the front door awoke you, banging like never before, your head dizzy from the lack of nutrients in your body, from the painkiller you took in the morning.

You looked at your phone’s screen, slowly getting up from the couch where you had passed out, and your head was throbbing, holding it with your hand as the banging didn’t stop. You groaned loudly, walking towards the big front door.

“If you are here to sell anything please–” Brown hair caught your eye, that’s the first thing you noticed, and he slowly turned around, brown eyes hitting with yours, freckles on his face, and a sting in your heart made you almost bend over at the sight.

“Bella…” He smiled through his stained face, his breathing picking up and a choked sob escaped your lips as you raised your hands to touch his face, trying to see if what you were seeing was real or not, and there was warmth, there definitely was.

“Sm–Smee–”

“I’m Steve… My name is Steve.” He says and your heart fills with joy at the knowledge, screaming with joy as you pull him into a tight hug. His arms wrapped around you, as he sobbed onto your shoulder. He was still wearing the pirate clothing, the one you thought you invented in your head out of your loneliness, but here he was, hugging you, crying onto you.

But over his shoulder, that’s when you saw the four kids with tear stained cheeks, lost eyes, as they looked over. Steve pulled away from you as he looked down at the children with you, a smile forming on his face.

“Peter—”

“Dustin… I’m Dustin.” He says with a pout to his lips and then Pockets talked.

“I’m Will…” Your eyes widening as you look at their faces, the tears never stopping from coming out of their eyes. Ace spoke next.

“I’m Lucas…” And then, Latchboy finally presented himself.

“My name is Mike…” Your heart beat into your chest loudly, happiness engulfing you as you crouched to the ground, opening your arms for the boys to rush and hug you, holding them close to you as the broken pieces mended back together in your head, in your heart.

All the boys were sobbing loudly, finally feeling normal, remembering who they were, remembering their lives and the intensity that whoever knew them, were long gone by now, but you were here, Steve was here and–

You opened your eyes again, pulling away from the hug as you looked around, desperately. It cannot be, please… He can’t be alone there. He didn’t remember his name? It cannot possibly be that he didn’t, because everyone else did, so–

“Are we going to live here?” Mike asked you and you had to push away your thoughts to answer to him, even if the pain was deep in your heart. You gulped the lump down, nodding at him with a sad smile on your face.

“Yes, and everyone will have their own room, even you, Steve. We’re all going to be a family, would you like that?” You say with doubt in your voice, hope and fear latched to it. All the boys nodded as big smiles filled their faces, hugging each other with happiness. You stood up and looked at Steve, who had a pained look on his face, despite the joy he felt inside his chest at the news of having a family.

“I… He–” His eyes widened for a second as he saw something behind you, looking upwards. When you turned around you didn’t see anything but then your ear caught something.

Loud thuds were heard in your house, and you rushed inside to hear the boots, walking on the second floor, your heart in your throat as the anxiety and hope filled your guts, wishing that it will be him, wishing it is him, wishing on that star that for the love of all things, that it’d be him.

A hook clamped on the rail of the stairs first, and then he came into view, your eyes widening as tears filled your eyes at seeing him again. His hair tight in the black bandana you remembered him with, the white shirt, the tight pants with the belts around his waist, and he stood at the top of your marble stairs.

You stared at one another, for a long while, until your feet worked again, finding the impulse to run to him, the magnet that always pulled you to him, as you rushed towards the stairs, and he followed, running down the steps, desperately, his heart exploding at being able to see you again, his gut turning at seeing your tear stained face, but he had something to say to you, he couldn’t wait to tell you.

He met you at the bottom of the stairs, and your arms immediately wrapped around his shoulders, almost jumping on him as sobs ripped out from your chest, cries of happiness as you felt his warmth against you again, his left arm holding you tightly as he sobbed onto your shoulder, soaking your shirt as you soaked his.

He pulled away to press his hand against your cheek, desperately pecking your lips over and over again through his tears, his longing being shown towards you as you sobbed through the adoration he was giving you, not being able to handle how happy you were feeling, how for the past few days you were miserable, to the brink of going over the edge, but there was something always pulling you back.

And that was faith.

Faith that you would see him again, faith that you wouldn’t be alone again, faith that you would have the family you yearned for. The family you once had with your grandmother only, and now it multiplied.

The Captain pulled away from you, his lips hovering over yours, panting against your lips as your hands clawed at his shoulders, not wanting to let go of him ever again. But he had to tell you something. He had to.

“My name is Edward.”

Your eyes filled with new tears as your smile spread through your lips, widely, a sob escaping them, and you kissed him, pulling his face against yours, before hugging him tightly against you again. Edward. Such a beautiful name.

“Edward… Eddie…” You say his name and he finally let his cries be heard through the home, his chest ripping open from them almost. The boys looked at the couple with wonder in their eyes as Steve gulped the lump in his throat, smiling widely. It almost seemed as if your grandma knew you would meet these people, your grandma knew you were going to be the one to fulfill her promise to them, to bring them home.

Home.

Your new home.

And if you listened closely, through the walls of the marble mansion, a small chime of little bells could be heard, happy yet sad, until they couldn’t be heard any more.

The second star to the right, shines in the night for you, to tell you that the dreams you plan, really can come true.

If you are inspired to do anything with this couple, credit accordingly if it's these two really.

A/N: I hope you enjoyed this imagine, this little thing actually broke me while writing it, but seriously, if you got any questions regarding it or maybe request something for these two, I'll be more than happy to receive it on my ask ❤

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