#he let her live because for a moment he enjoyed cooking
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Sunsets on Pabu
Old Hunter x f!reader
Rating: Explicit
Wordcount: 3k
Summary:
You spend a wonderful day at the beach with Hunter, Wrecker and Crosshair. In the evening the two of them decide to join the rest of your family at Sheps for dinner while you and Hunter stay at the beach to watch the sunset together but Hunter decides to turn his attention to you instead.
Notes:
Tadaaa! It’s finally here. I let you vote between a soft and a rough version and the majority voted for soft and loving. So this is what you get first. Reader is married to Hunter, you live on Pabu together and he absolutely worships you, we have oral (f receiving) and unprotected sex. Kind of public sex but not really. It’s porn with very little plot, just a little fluff. Also Tech lives, because I will die on that hill. And don’t worry all Hunter girlies that like it rougher, you will get your fic next week. (Spoiler alert: Hunter bends you over the dining table)
As the day winds down and the sun begins its descent towards the horizon, casting a warm orange glow across the beach, you find yourself grateful for the simple pleasures the island has to offer. You're dressed in your new cute bikini, that you let Hunter pick, feeling the warm sand between your toes as you stroll along the shore with him, Wrecker, and Crosshair. You spent the whole day at the beach together, swimming, basking in the sun and eating more Meiloorons than you probably should. The sound of the waves crashing against the beach is soothing, and you can't help but smile as you soak in the beauty of the moment. Unfortunately Tech can’t be bothered most of the time and only joins you for beach days when Omega pushes all his buttons and pulls the sweetest face on him, but you got used to it and instead often spend the evenings together at his and Phees place.
You hear Batcher barking in the distance before you even see Omega and Lyana approaching, making their way down from the town to let you know Shep invited everyone for dinner on his terrace. But despite the tempting invitation, you decline, having already decided you want to watch the sunset with Hunter. Wrecker and Crosshair however head off with the girls to enjoy Shep's famous cooking, leaving the two of you alone on the beach.
You watch them walking up the steep alley, Batcher happily running ahead and barking, while gathering your things and making your way further down the beach, seeking out a secluded spot, away from the houses, where you can enjoy the sunset in peace. The sand is still warm beneath your feet as you walk along the shore, hand in hand with your husband.
Finally, you find a spot that feels just right, a cove with a small patch of sand nestled between a few bigger rocks. You spread out your blanket and settle down beside each other.
Nestled in Hunter's arms, you watch as the sun paints the sky in beautiful shades of pink, orange and gold. It's a familiar sight on Pabu, one you've witnessed countless times before, but it never fails to take your breath away and with Hunter by your side, it always feels even more special.
"You sure you didn't want to go to Sheps for dinner?" you ask, snuggling closer to him.
"More than sure," he replies, his voice soft and warm against your ear. "It's not often that we get an evening just for us."
You smile up at him giving him a sweet kiss, his arms tightening around you protectively.
"They'll be fine," he reassures you. "Wrecker's probably already stuffed to the brim, like always, and complaining that he can’t fit more, and Omega's teaching Lyana new gambling tricks. And I'm sure Phee's doing her best to get Crosshair to open up, most likely with the help of her secret stash of Alderaan wine, while Tech is trying to argue that thats not the solution."
You smile at the thought of your friends enjoying themselves. Evenings on Sheps terrace are always a lot of fun, everyone’s together with good food and good talks but in this moment, all you care about is the feeling of Hunter's arms around you and the beauty of the sunset before you, as you lean in to press a gentle kiss against his lips, grateful for the love and warmth he brings into your life.
He pulls you closer to his chest, planting soft kisses on your lips, one of his hands tracing the curves of your body, gently caressing every inch of your skin, leaving goosebumps wherever he touches you. You playfully shift around until you're straddling him, capturing his lips in a passionate kiss. Your hand moves to his cheek and you let your thumb brush lovingly against his greying beard.
"You're going to miss the sunset if you keep looking at me love," you murmur softly, breaking the kiss momentarily.
"Well, then I guess it's good that the one thing I like looking at even more than sunsets is you," he replies with a smile, his eyes filled with adoration.
A mischievous grin spreads across your face as you lean in closer. "In that case …you know… I can make that view even better," you tease, your fingers tugging at the strings of your bikini top and with a swift motion, you unravel the top, casting it aside to expose your bare breasts.
He instantly wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you closer, burying his face between your soft breasts with a contented sigh. His beard tickles slightly against your skin, sending shivers down your spine.
He carefully begins to lick and gently nibble on your hardening nipples, getting a few soft moans from you in response. His hands roam over your breasts, cupping them with just the right amount of pressure as he looks up at you with admiration in his eyes.
"Sometimes I still wonder how I got so lucky to have you," he murmurs, his voice filled with love.
You chuckle softly and reach behind him, pulling on the back of his bandana to release his hair, which cascades over his shoulders in soft waves. You marvel at how long it has grown since you first started dating, admiring the subtle streaks of grey that have begun to appear over time.
With a gentle push, he guides you to lay on your back, positioning himself over you.
"If we're going to miss the sunset, we might as well make it worth it," he grins, his lips trailing kisses all over your body leaving a line of fire in their wake.
He takes his time, savoring every inch as he carefully removes your swim bottoms. Each touch is deliberate and full of love, each caress sending shivers of anticipation through your body, heat already pooling between your legs.
"Let me make take care of you my love," he murmurs, his breath hot against your skin, turning his attention to your core, already yearning for his touch
He kisses along your inner thighs, his breath warm against your skin as he moves closer to your center. When his tongue finally makes contact with your folds, a low moan escapes your lips and you arch into his touch. He quickly wraps his arms around your tights to keep you from moving and to hold you flush against his face.
"Oh, Hunter," you gasp, your fingers tangling in his hair as he continues to tease and lick. His movements are deliberate and unhurried, each stroke of his tongue sending waves of heat radiating through you.
"You feel so good cyare," he murmurs against your skin, his voice husky with desire. "I could do this all night."
He slowly increases the intensity of his licks and kisses and when he starts sucking your clit you are already a whimpering mess in his arms.
“You want my fingers?” he asks looking up at you.
Your only response is a desperate moan, the words lost in a haze of pleasure as he pushes you ever closer to the edge with his tongue but he doesn’t need to hear you, after all these years he knows exactly what you like.
He slowly slides first one then a second finger into you without any resistance, your pussy practically dripping for him and when he begins to thrust into you slowly you can feel the tension building in your core, the familiar coil of desire tightening with each stroke of his tongue and thrust of his fingers.
“Oh fuck…Hunter…feels…so good” you moan,
“Mmmhm…don’t hold back love” he groans before he descends down on your clit, mercilessly sucking it into his mouth until your body begins to writhe under his touch.
“M…m close” is all you can get out between your whimpers and mewls, his fingers pushing into you with an intensity that leaves you unable to have any coherent thoughts.
"Come for me, baby," he murmurs, his voice vibrating against your core as he curls his fingers up to find that extra sweet spot, the one that makes you see stars, driving you higher and higher until you're teetering on the brink.
With a final, desperate cry, you shatter beneath him, waves of ecstasy crashing over you as you ride out the storm of your release on his fingers, you pussy clenching hard around him. You’re a whining and panting mess, it’s crazy what he can do to you only with his mouth and his fingers.
When you slowly come down from your high he carefully slides out of you, his arms wrapping around you in a protective embrace and your body starts relaxing against him. Hunter's lips find yours in a searing kiss, his hands moving to cup your face as he gazes at you with a mixture of awe and adoration. His eyes are filled with love and tenderness, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering against your skin.
"You're so beautiful when you come on my fingers," he murmurs, his voice filled with awe as he gazes at you with adoration, peppering your face with soft kisses. “I’ll never get tired watching you like that, it’s divine.”
You smile up at him, your heart overflowing with love and gratitude pulling him close, cherishing the moment and the man who means everything to you.
You wrap your legs around him, feeling his hardened length pressing against your thigh, your hunger for him in not yet sated and you eagerly wiggle around reaching down to free his cock.
“Can’t get enough, hm?” he chuckles.
"Mhm, help me take these off," you whisper, tucking at the hem of his swim shorts.
He quickly cast his shorts aside and crawls back over you, leaning in to kiss you, propped up on his elbows. You love how his body changed over the years, it got slightly softer as he let go of the hardships and battles, but lost not a single bit of his strength.
“I want to feel you inside me” you whisper desire lacing your words when his beautiful rock hard cock is finally freed from its confinement.
You reach down to stroke him, his lips grazing your neck, whispering sweet words of adoration and when you feel the precum already leaking from his tip you shiver with delight.
"Would you ride me a bit?" he asks softly, his voice a tender whisper against your skin.
"Who am I to deny you that wish?" you respond with a loving glint in your eye.
He rolls onto his back, effortlessly pulling you on top of him, his hands holding onto your hips, helping you to straddle him.
"Come here," he whispers, his eyes ablaze with desire, pupils blown wide, as you position yourself, sliding up and down his length, spreading your wetness all over him, before lining him up at your entrance.
With the last rays of the setting sun casting a reddish pink glow on your skin, you slowly sink down on his cock, until he bottoms out, relishing the sensation of being filled by him once more.
You both moan, taking a moment to fully enjoy it. You’ve been together for years but the sensation of taking him in completely, feeling yourself stretch around him, is still as good as it was the first time.
"Oh Hunter, you feel so good," you moan, steadying yourself against his chest.
You slowly begin moving up and down his length, relishing the sensation of being so full, his thick cock stretching you in all the right ways. Each movement sends waves of pleasure coursing through your body, igniting a desire within you that only he can still.
As you bounce up and down on his cock, your hair cascades in loose waves around your shoulders, still slightly damp from your last swim and your beautiful breasts bounce with every movement, drawing his gaze like a moth to a flame.
"I love you so much" he whispers, his voice filled with devotion, reveling in the sight of you on top of him, his eyes tracing every curve of your body illuminated by the dying sun. In this moment, he feels like the luckiest man in the galaxy, blessed to have you in his arms. Unable to resist, his hands come up to cup your breasts, his thumbs trailing over your hardened nipples, eliciting a soft gasp from your lips.
"I'll take it from here," he whispers huskily, his voice heavy with desire as he gently but hungrily pushes you onto your back, with ease, positioning himself between your legs and slowly starts thrusting into you. Taking your legs up over his shoulders, he picks up the pace, each movement driving you both closer to the edge of ecstasy.
As he plunges into you with increasing fervor, you become a moaning, whining mess beneath him, lost in the throes of passion. Fortunately, the waves crashing on the nearby rocks dim everything around, preventing your lewd sounds and the squelching of your soaking wet pussy from traveling too far up to the village.
"Hunter, I'm close," you gasp, your voice trembling with need. "Come with me?" You ask him, your eyes locking with his as you plead for release.
He lets go of your legs and comes down over you, propped up on his elbows, his hair cascading around your faces like a veil. With a deep, passionate kiss, he whispers against your lips,
"Cum for me, let me feel that beautiful pussy clenching around my cock" his words send shivers down your spine and when he thrusts deeper, his tip pushing against your cervix, just the way he knows you like it, you feel your body responding eagerly to him.
“Oh…fuck..Hunter”
It takes only a few more of these deep, powerful thrusts until you feel your pussy clenching down on him, the tension in your core reaching its breaking point. With a lewd moan, the delicious heat begins pulsing through your entire body and you're consumed by the intensity of your orgasm. He follows you almost immediately. Before the first wave of ecstasy fully washes over you, you feel him harden even more, his rhythm becoming sloppy and his arousal driving him to the brink.
With one final, deep thrust, he releases himself inside you, filling you up with his hot seed. You feel a surge of warmth as he gasps, his body crashing down against yours, his lips seeking yours in a deep, soulful kiss. In that moment, the world fades away, your mind goes completely blank, all sounds dim around you, leaving only the sensation of your orgasm pulsing through your body and the feeling of his hot skin against yours.
You bask in the afterglow of your shared orgasm, his forehead resting against yours, reveling in the intimacy of the moment. Your bodies are sweaty and you’re panting when you slowly come back to yourselves, the sounds and view of the surroundings returning to your senses.
He leans in to kiss you, his lips conveying a depth of emotion that words could never express. With a soft whisper, he murmurs sweet, loving words that warm your heart and soul.
You revel in the feeling of you bodies pressed together and when his softening cock slowly slides out of you, you feel his cum oozing from your core dripping down into the sand.
“I know you like walking around with my cum leaking out of you, but we should get you cleaned up love”
“Mhm…can’t think…n…can’t walk…Cross took…took all our towels back home” you mumble, completely blissed out and cock dumb.
“Let me take care of you riduur, like I always do” he whispers, looking down at your flushed face and your silly smile with pure love and adoration before he scoops you up into his arms.
You know what he’s about to do. He always carries you into the ocean whenever you have sex on the beach and you love it almost as much as being fucked into oblivion by him.
The water on Pabu is always warm, enveloping you in its soothing embrace as he wades into its depths and you cling to him, your legs wrapped around his waist, exchanging tender kisses as the gentle waves rock you back and forth.
As you float together, you trace the lines of his tattoo on his face, your fingers brushing lightly over his beard before trailing down his chest. You let your hands rest there, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your touch. He pulls you closer, his arms wrapping around you protectively as you nestle your head in the crook of his neck, his long locks tickling your face in the gentle breeze. In this moment, surrounded by the warmth of the ocean and the tenderness of his embrace, you feel truly at peace.
The sun has set completely when you reluctantly emerge from the water and the cool evening breeze sends shivers down your spine. You quickly make your way to your beach blanket and lie down, the chill of the night air causing your teeth to chatter. Hunter pulls you close, wrapping you tightly in his embrace. With gentle hands, he drapes his soft knit cardigan around your shoulders, cocooning you in its warmth until the trembling subsides.
Nestled against his chest, you watch in awe as more and more stars begin to appear in the night sky, their twinkling lights casting a soft glow over the beach. With each passing moment, the world around you seems to fade away, leaving only the two of you alone in the embrace of the night. In this tranquil moment, wrapped in his arms and surrounded by the beauty of the starlit sky, you feel an overwhelming sense of peace and contentment wash over you that he is able to live this soft and gentle live here on Pabu and that he chose you to be part of it.
“Let’s go home” he whispers “before you start freezing again. And I’m sure Omega got us some leftovers from Shep”
You chuckle.
“Then we better get home before Wrecker finds them”
#the bad batch#bad batch smut#tbb smut#clone smut#hunter x you#hunter x reader#old hunter#pabu#hunter on pabu#dilf hunter#tbb#the bad batch season 3#tbb hunter#tbb season 3#sw tbb#the bad batch fanfiction#tbb fanfiction#tbb pabu
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𝐓𝐖𝐎 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐎
Satoru Gojo
Summary: Satoru struggles with his two babies.
Warnings: Pure Fluff
Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi
*I used the two babies from baby steps for this, but you don't have to read to enjoy the fluffy oneshot🥹
“C’mon, Seiji. Vegetables are so good. yummy.” Satoru is trying to bribe his almost-two-year-old into eating the rest of his food, alas, he doesn’t sound too convincing. He tasted the vegetables, they aren’t too good but you cooked them so he isn’t going to bash them. Seiji really doesn’t care about not hurting anybody’s feelings at this stage of his life, so even though his dearest mother made them, he refuses to eat them.
Satoru sighs defeatedly, putting the fork down. He guesses Seiji doesn’t have to eat vegetables every day to grow strong. He picks Seiji up from the high chair, putting him down on the ground to allow him to walk around and do whatever he likes to do. Lately Seiji loves to play with any piece of trash he finds, making Satoru realize that he’s wasted thousands of dollars on toys.
“Don’t be too loud! Don’t wake your sister up.” Satoru yells, knowing that Seiji really doesn’t care about that. The baby only has one thought in his mind and that’s to play with whatever he gets his hands on.
Satoru really thought that handling two babies under two would be a breeze, he’s the strongest, he can accomplish just about anything… But his two kids tire him out. Saori cries so much that he anticipates in horror the moment that she wakes up. Seiji never stops moving, it’s nearly impossible to get him to stand still for a moment. He loves his babies more than anything, but he’s rightfully tired.
Satoru is being the best husband that he can be by taking care of his babies while you study and finish up your degree. But two tiny humans are slowly ending his life. Satoru follows Seiji around, deciding to just let him wander around the house because Seiji hates to be put in his playpen lately.
“Dada.” Seiji points up when he gets to the stairs, looking back at his father. Satoru shakes his head, picking up Seiji and taking him back to the living room so he can find something there that he can engross himself with. Seiji makes sure to let out a dramatic cry because he hates being carried and contradicted. He doesn’t want to go to the living room, he wants to go upstairs.
“Crying isn’t going to do anything, baby. You’re staying down here.” Satoru says as he carries Seiji away. Seiji makes sure to yell,
“Down! Down!” Which actually works on Satoru today because he doesn’t want Seiji to wake up the sleeping baby. When his tiny feet hit the ground, Seiji begins to run around which isn’t really an issue for Satoru since he only has to take two steps to catch up to Seiji.
It’s boring, really, but he prefers walking after his toddler better than trying to entertain both babies while they’re awake. Seiji doesn’t care for his parents' attention until Saori is awake; when she’s awake he wants to become the center of attention.
Satoru really thinks he’s safe, until he hears her cries from upstairs, and the loudest sigh leaves his lips. He picks Seiji up, making him kick his feet and cry, demanding that he’s put down. Luckily for him, his father listens to his wishes and puts him down. Unluckily for him, he’s put down in the playpen that lately feels like a prison.
“No! Out!” Seiji demands, but Satoru doesn’t listen. He leaves Seiji there while he goes upstairs to pick up Saori from her crib.
When he gets there, he notices his baby girl is sitting up, waiting for him to finally pick her up. He coos, approaching the crib and picking her up, “Hi my sunshine. Did you sleep well?”
She doesn’t stop crying so easily though. He changes her diaper, and the crying gets worse. He tickles her tummy, laughing to himself, “Aren’t you a hungry girl? You ate one hour ago too.”
He guesses he can’t blame her, a bottle of milk wouldn’t be enough to hold him over either… But he guesses he’s four times her size and two decades older than her. He exits the room, getting more irritated by the second with the crying baby that’s in his arms.
He begins to walk down the stairs, and that’s when he sees a little rascal holding to the railing and trying to walk upstairs. His eyes widen, his first thought being: how the hell did Seiji escape his playpen? Seiji finally looks up, seeing his father at the top of the stairs. He lets go of the railing, his hands going over his tiny mouth, his signature move for when he gets caught.
Satoru watches it happen in slow motion. Seiji’s tiny feet on the edge of the stair, he tips over and falls back from the stairs until he’s back on the first floor again. At least Seiji was only on the third stair up so it wasn’t a long fall– However, he cries his heart out as if he was at the very top.
“Seiji, how the hell did you even get out of the playpen?” Satoru is reasonably angry because he has two crying kids to soothe on his own. He doesn’t want to bother you while you study so it’s his problem, and only his. He doesn’t know which problem to tend to first.
Satoru just knows one thing, and he hates thinking about it, but he wouldn’t be dealing with any of this if he had used a condom.
#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen gojo#jjk gojo#gojo imagine#gojo saturo#gojo x reader#gojo satoru#gojo satoru fluff#satoru gojo#jjk satoru#jujutsu satoru#dad gojo
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thinking of her ☆ cl16
genre: angst, marriage trope
word count: 1.8k
You and Charles take a visit to marriage counseling.
inspired by this !
req!... had some free time to write so thought i would work on a request i just got! short one, but i hope you enjoy :)
“Tell me why you’re both here.”
The room is silent and slightly cold. A large canvas hangs right in front of you as you take time to pretend you care about the family painted on it. Part of you actually does.
“Well, she thought it would be a good idea to drag us into this.”
Your eyes flicker to Charles and you would only hope that he could tell that you weren’t impressed by his answer. It was true, it was your idea to go to couple’s counseling, but only because you cared. You cared a lot. Sometimes you thought for sure he didn’t anymore.
“Honey, tell me what made you decide this.”
You wanted to burst with anger. To prove to her that this wasn’t completely your fault. He wasn’t perfect, he tested your patience and despite it all, you still loved him enough to try and salvage your marriage.
Your therapist stares back, pen ready to scribble possible solutions as if her words would really matter. Maybe, deep down, you didn’t like being here either, but you wanted to prove to Charles how he’s been a shit husband.
You wanted someone to back you up.
Taking a deep breath, you play with your wedding band. The one that you would normally admire, but now it just felt like pure suffocation. “He’s given me plenty of reasons to not trust him the way I once did and now I sit here like a fool thinking he might change.”
The way her pen glides is something you hate.
Looking back up at you both she takes a moment to analyze the couple. Charles sits with a blank expression, as if he really did have somewhere better to be. In his mind, he did. Then, there was you. Regardless of your words pouring with pure vexation, your body language displayed something else.
Your eyes were sad and tired. She easily noticed the way your hand would want to reach out to Charles, but would quickly grip tighter to your lap.
“Please, if you don’t mind, would you care to explain.”
You press your lips together. “I first noticed a difference 2 years into our marriage.”
-
“Chicken or fish?”
It was Charles’ day off from work in a long time and you were currently on a call with Pascale trying to figure out what to surprise him with. He always raved about how much he loved what you cooked for him.
“Fish. You guys were just here yesterday and I made grilled chicken, remember?”
You hum as you get into your car and start driving to the market. The conversation is cut short when you finally reach your destination. Walking through the aisle you decide it would be a fine idea to grab some wine you both love.
“Charles?” The brunette looks up, red wine in his hand, as you smile a bit confused. “What are you doing here? I thought you were playing padel with Lorenzo.”
“I was! Finished the game early and thought I would grab us some wine for later.” He gets closer as he kisses you and takes the kart from you. “Shopping for dinner?” You nod.
“Thought it’d be nice…” You look at the bottle and yes it’s red, but it's not the kind you both like. “Honey, you got the wrong one.” A panicked look flashes his face before he lets out a nervous laugh. Of course! I’ll change it right now.
-
“It only took a couple more slip ups for me to find out.”
The therapist nods as her attention turns to Charles, where he plays with his bracelets. “And what made you stay?” You want to laugh. Are we just going to spend time on me? She shakes her head. “We’ll get to him, I just want to hear from you first.”
“After I confronted him he swore he’d stop seeing her. I guess it was my fault for even believing him.”
-
“Amour!”
He runs into the living room, kitchen, basement, everywhere. Breathing hard he looks around the house as if the furniture will give up and tell him where you are. A loud thud echoes from upstairs. Two steps at a time, he darts up quickly into your bedroom. His heart stops when he sees you packing a suitcase. What are you doing?
You don’t answer. Don’t even spare a passing glance. Instead you slip the gold band off your finger as you throw it behind you. It only falls a few steps in front of him. He picks it up as he makes his way to you. “I’m so sorry.”
Your back faces him, but you don’t dare make a single sound. You curl your hand against the dress you were folding, bite hard on your lip to not let out a single sob. But your chest hurts, your tears feel like acid against your skin and you’re almost thankful for pain like that, that way what Charles did wouldn’t be the only thing that hurt.
He makes his way to kneel down in front of you as you stare down at the carpet. You had begged him only a few days ago to put down the deposit on it and for a while he said it wouldn’t be financially responsible, but later agreed. You hated the carpet now.
“Why? Just why?”
He’s far too embarrassed to even come up with an answer. “...I don’t know.”
When you finally look up at him he sees what he’s caused. Your eyes are bloodshot as your nose is rosy. Cheeks are so bright pink, it almost looked as if someone pinched them.
You let out a wet laugh as you drop your hands against your lap. “You know, when I woke up this morning and you were gone I thought to myself, ‘Wow. What did I do to deserve a husband who wakes up early enough to get me breakfast on my birthday?’ And I waited. And waited. But whatever! That’s fine! He probably got busy. Then Pascale called to confirm if we were still going out for dinner, to which I said, ‘Yes! Of course!...Yes, the gold bracelet! It was beautiful, thank you for helping him pick it out.’ I thought it was sweet, I did, but you never came. And again, the presents are not what mattered, but it was you. I texted you. I called you. I told myself you were probably too busy planning something sweet the way you always did. They all asked where you were and I had to lie and tell them you were going to be late. Do you know how stupid I felt when I saw you and her enter the restaurant holding hands? And then what did I do? I purposefully had you see me run out so you could chase after me, so that your family would never find out about your…fling.”
Charles keeps bowing his head lower and lower almost as if to hide from his mistakes.
“...So where’s my bracelet, huh? Because you got it for me for my birthday, right?” Extending your hand out hurts because you know deep down it was never for you.
“I don’t have it…” You click your tongue as you retract your arm. Of course you don’t, you seethe. With all your strength, you stand with wobbly knees as you start to walk away.
“Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone.”
And he should feel relieved, but instead he feels like a complete asshole. How could he ruin things with his wife who swore to love him with all her being? He knew you well enough to know that you always will and he couldn’t let that go. He would fix this.
He runs to the door to close it. Move, you spit out. He shakes his head as he hugs you.
“S-stop,” you say in a shaky voice as warm tears begin to flow once more. “It’s okay, just let me go…”
You go stiff when you realize he’s crying into your neck. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…He just keeps repeating it and you can’t stop yourself from hugging him back. He loved you and you loved him. That’s all that mattered.
“Just don’t do it again, okay?”
-
“So he cheated: you forgave him. He put her first and your marriage second.”
You flinch at her words because they only remind you how true they are. For a while, you thought you could both get over it, but you never really did. Not when you were already both standing on opposite sides of the road.
“Mom always did say I always saw the best in people.”
“And you…” Charles gulps. “What made you fall into an affair?”
Months ago, when you first found out, he didn’t have any answer to that question. But he did now.
“I wasn’t smart enough to appreciate my wife.” He looks at you as you avoid eye contact because you know the moment you looked into his eyes, you would fall all over again.
But you still did.
His eyes are sorry, you could tell, and the way his hand makes his way to you is enough for you to grow warm despite the cold room.
“I’ve made plenty of mistakes - I know that - but none of them could compare to what I did to us. For putting you through so much doubt…For making you think I didn’t love you, but I always did.”
You're crying now as you nod because this is all you ever needed to hear.
“If this was the bump in the road that we had to overcome to grow closer then I accept it because I love you too, Charles. It’s about time you realized that.”
-
Charles feels lighter, happier. Now that he gets to hold your hand after many fights, he’s reminded about all the things he loves about you. But nothing could have prepared him for you to let go of his hand.
“I want a divorce.”
He’s stunned. W-what? We just decided that we were fine, that we were moving on…
You shake your head as you laugh. “My apologies, God, did I make you believe a lie? Feels awful, doesn’t it?”
He furrows his brows as he tries to reach out for you but you keep stepping further back. “Back there you almost had me…You said, ‘...none of them would compare to what I did to us.’ Us. Did you suffer? Did you spend countless, empty nights, crying yourself to sleep wondering what you did wrong? No, because it was all me. It wasn’t what you did to us, it's what you did to me.” You spin your ring one last time before slipping it off and placing it in his hand. He wants to say something to make you change your mind, to oversee his past mistakes one more time, because he swore to himself it would be the last time. But he could tell you’ve made up your mind. You twist your heel, ready to walk away before taking one last look into his green eyes you once loved.
“And the baby is getting my last name.”
#charles leclerc#charles leclerc imagines#charles leclerc x reader#f1#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#charles leclerc drabble#charles leclerc smut
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Close Encounters of the Spiderkind
Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x Single Mother!Reader
Summary: When reader refuses to go on a mission, Miguel decides to pay a home visit to figure out why
Warnings: SLIGHT SPOILERS FOR ATSV! fluff, slight hurt/comfort and angst if you squint hard enough, Miguel is a softie around kids, it’s giving slow burn/platonic vibes, not fluent in Spanish so feel free to correct my wording/punctuation
A/N: This is kind of my way of dipping my toes back into the world of fanfiction writing, if ya’ll end up liking it I was planning on making it a little series of sorts. Not necessarily a multipart story, rather just little moments following the same general characters. I took the liberty of assigning a gender and name to the reader’s daughter since that sounded like it’d be easier in terms of writing, the rest is still like any Y/N story. Reader is also a spider person, but I’m not married to the idea for future oneshots? Drabbles? I don’t know what you kids call them nowadays...
MASTERLIST | TAGLIST
It had only been a couple months since you had joined Spider-Society and, while you were still trying to find your footing, things were going a lot better than expected. There was a comradery with being around other people with the same abilities, who had experienced the same losses, victories and all that came with wearing the mask. You had found some good friends among the other Spiders, particularly with Peter B and Jess, as there was a common ground there that you had yet to share with them; something that the three of you had in common.
That commonality was currently asleep in the other room, your daughter Vada. For once, it had been a day where the radios were quiet. No calls from HQ to go on missions, no worrying chatter on the police radios, so you had taken the day to spend time with your daughter. The three year old was going through a phase where she was having nightmares almost every night, so the day was spent at home relaxing. From watching movies, to cooking meals together, Vada had been your little shadow all day and you had enjoyed every second of it.
While your toddler had tuckered herself out, you were restless, curled up on the couch watching TV at a low enough volume that only you could hear, thanks to your heightened senses. It may have been almost midnight, but that was still considered an early night for you. Used to the regime of patrolling until early in the morning and crawling into bed to get a few hours asleep before Vada came in to ask for her breakfast. Just as you were starting to feel the pull of sleep on your eyelids, letting the quiet calm sink into your bones, the moment was then yanked from you.
When the beeping started the first time, you had acted on instinct to silence the noise. Your hand practically slapped the Gizmo on your wrist, the same Gizmo given to you by Miguel when you had joined his Spider-Society.
Ugh, Miguel.
It was a damn shame that such a pretty face was wasted on a sourpuss like him. While being the leader of an elite group of Spider-People sounded like no easy task, there were times the man definitely took it too seriously. Sure, he had a great work ethic and was a respectable leader, but that all came with the downside that you couldn’t stand being around him for more than five minutes. You two hadn’t gotten off on the right foot and it seemed like he wouldn’t let you live that down. Ever the stern, cold-hearted leader, barking orders and chewing your ass out if something went wrong. He hardly ever smiled and when he did it was condescending, almost smug as he questioned just how intelligent you actually were. A waste of a pretty face indeed.
That pretty face came to mind when you looked down at your Gizmo, which was beeping once more, finally processing that it was Miguel who was trying to contact you. Shit.
“Hello?” your voice is quiet, wary as you answer him finally; trying to keep quiet for the toddler sleeping in the other room. Also because of the worry that you’ve pissed him off once again.
“Why aren’t you answering?” his voice cuts through the silence, monotone and firm. “An anomaly was detected on Earth-616, go take care of it. Ben Reilly and Peter Parker from Earth-13122 are already en route.”
“I....can’t,” you cringe as the word leaves your mouth. The pregnant pause that follows feels like an eternity.
“What do you mean you ‘can’t’?” He spits the word back at you, like you offended him with just the one syllable. More silence follows, Miguel waiting for your answer and you not knowing what to say. “...Is something wrong?”
“I have to go,” you end the call, not even registering the concern that had slid its way into his tone. With a heavy sigh, you lay your head against the back of the couch, regretting how you handled the situation, but thankful it was dealt with. That is until the familiar sound of a portal opening and closing disturbs your precious quiet once more.
It makes you almost jump out of your skin, physically lurching off the couch, the warm hues from the light of the portal filling your living room and disappearing as quickly as they came. In their place is Miguel, clad in his spidersuit from head to toe. A wave of emotions goes through you, the look of shock, confusion and anger crossing your face in less than a second. He doesn’t seem to have noticed you yet, glancing around the space and disengaging his mask when he doesn’t register any immediate threats.
“What are you doing here!?” it takes all you have not to shout the words at him, instead resorting to a sort of hiss to keep your voice down. Miguel doesn’t seem to take the hint.
“This is why you couldn’t come? Because you’re too busy lounging around and watching trash TV?” he isn’t shouting per se, rather his tone makes him sound louder. That and the quiet of your apartment probably amplified his voice even more. “I know the weight of keeping the multiverse intact might go over your head, but the least you could do is be there for your teammates. I don’t allow slackers in my-”
“Shh!” you’re moving towards him without even realizing, motherly instinct telling you to silence the noise that dared try to wake your daughter. Your hand reaches to cover his loud mouth and Miguel takes a step back to avoid your touch, the frustration reflecting in his eyes turning into red, hot anger.
“Did you just ‘shh’ me!?” he sounds as if he’s in disbelief, his voice now actually rising in volume. You stumble over your words, trying to apologize and explain yourself all at once. Now it’s his turn to step towards you, his imposing frame towering over you and you can’t help but shrink back, “I don’t know who you think you are, but if you don’t get your ass in your suit, I’ll-”
“Mama?” Vada’s little voice cuts through the air, both Miguel and you freezing. When you turn to look at your daughter, who’s standing in the doorway to her bedroom, it feels like everything around you fades away. The static of the TV, Miguel, everything until all you can focus on is Vada. She’s clearly distressed, as you come to kneel in front of her you can see the tears in her big round eyes, the redness around them and on her nose, the slight tremble in her bottom lip. You know what’s wrong before she even has to explain.
“Sweet girl, another one?” you ask calmly, a hand going to stroke her hair. Vada nods, confirming your suspicion that she had been roused by yet another nightmare. The creak of the floorboards alerts you of Miguel taking a step closer and you’re suddenly very much aware of his presence once again. However, your eyes don’t leave Vada’s crying face. “Let’s get you back into bed,” you try to coax her into heading back the way she came, your toddler only resisting and shaking her head firmly.
“I want Mama’s bed,” she demands, sounding groggy as the sleep she had just risen from had yet to fully leave her. Vada doesn’t even let you respond before her tiny arms wrap around your neck, face pressing into the junction of your neck and shoulder, “Want you,” she mutters against you, the exhaustion and distress in her voice making your heart ache for her.
“Vada,” you sigh heavily, exhausted as well. Exhausted from the heavy workload of being Spider-Woman not just for your universe, but other universes as well. Exhausted from the fact your child couldn’t get a wink of sleep and seeing her frustrated made you frustrated as well. You cave, scooping your daughter up in your arms and standing. Her body molds to yours, relaxing against your frame like it had done so many times before. As you rub her back and kiss her temple, you’re forced to turn and deal with the elephant in the room. Or rather the spider.
You expect Miguel to look annoyed, as usual, but he isn’t. In fact, the anger he was prepared to unleash on you moments ago seems to have vanished, replaced with a look of curiosity, intrigue and dare you say....awe? He’s looking at Vada, who’s about to pass out in your arms, with a softened expression, the sight of the small girl seeming to tug the corners of his mouth up just slightly.
Huh.
Miguel seems to catch himself staring, shaking his head to clear the fog and meeting your gaze once more. “I...didn’t know,” is all he can say, not as confident in the way he stands.
“No one knows,” you reply in a much harsher tone than you intended. After a deep breath, you adjust how you speak, “I’ve only been on the team for a couple months. It’s not that I don’t trust the other spiders...I just want to be careful, yah know?” Miguel nods along with what you say and you can’t help but keep talking to fill the now awkward silence, “Usually I have someone to watch her, but it’s been so long since I’ve had a day to just give her all my attention- I promise, it won’t happen again. I know that I should answer if you call-”
“Cállate,” Miguel cuts you off and you’re almost grateful he’s saved you from rambling. There’s another moment of silence before he sighs, “You don’t have to explain yourself, really. If I had known,” he waves a hand to indicate to your daughter, “this was the reason you were ignoring my calls, I wouldn’t have been so hard on you. Your daughter comes first, I get it.”
His words hit harder than they should. Every Spider-Person had heard the story. How Miguel was willing to put his own duties aside to live in a universe where he had a daughter of his own. Replacing the him of that universe, who had died tragically, to live the life he had always wanted; only to have that universe crumble around him. Literally. It explained his cold demeanor, you’d probably be a bitch too if your daughter died in your arms, but that coldness you had become accustomed to seemed to melt away the longer he took in the sight of you holding your daughter.
“You said her name’s Vada?” he asks, stepping a little closer. Normally, you would probably keep your distance from him, maternal instincts in overdrive with an imposing figure like Miguel so close to Vada, but you stay in place. Not bothered by his presence for once. He’s looking at you, expecting an answer, and you nod your head. He hums, “How old?”
“Three,” you answer and he hums again. “...Is everything okay? Regarding the mission?”
“Huh? Oh,” he clears his throat, adjusting his stance and taking a small step back. When had he gotten so close to you? “I think those two should be fine on their own. Earth-13122′s Spider-Man knows what he’s doing and-”
“You know, you can just call him Lego Spider-Man. Everyone calls him Lego Spider-Man.”
“That’s not his correct title.”
“Uh-huh,” you smile, holding back a laugh at how serious Miguel seemed to be about the subject. “...Well, I think it’s time we go to bed.”
“Right, right,” Miguel moves like he’s about to walk out the front door, seeming to forget that he had come via portal and catching himself as his hand grasps the handle. Has he always been this socially awkward? He turns to look at you again, “Should I just...?”
“Yes, please open your noisy portal outside.”
“Claro que sí,” he nods in understanding, opening the door. Just as he’s about to leave, he pauses again, turning to look back at you, “Even if you’re busy, you should still answer when I call. I was worried about you.”
“Worried about me?” you repeat, a bit of teasing in your voice.
“Worried as in the normal amount of worried.”
“Sure, sure, O’Hara.”
“I’m leaving now,” he huffs, turning to leave again. Yet he can’t help but stop one more time, “Goodnight.”
He finally leaves, door shutting with a soft click. You go to the door to lock it, carrying Vada into your room for bed. It seems that she had managed to fall back asleep despite your little interaction with Miguel. As you lay down and pull the comforter over the two of you, Vada snuggling impossibly close to you once more, you lie there thinking about what had just transpired.
Maybe his pretty face wasn’t a waste.
Tags:
@l0sert0wn @deputy-videogamer @arctic4life @sasaleleselfships @autismsupermusicalassassin @snert-bees @qundadedingle11 @uniquelyabnormallyoriginal @fangirlreice7 @mouse-teagreat @andr3wgarfieldsupremacist @yellieeeee @thesrtuggleisveryreal @escherichiacolli @sweeteaacorner @marvelouslovely-barnes @meeom @candlewitch-cryptic @iwanttogohomeandtakeanap @melovetitties @ilovemycat6808 @vegas-writing-den @pippethealien @shibble @mommyhange1 @chiikasevennn @pokhouu @jenniferdixon05207 @m0sscr3ates @momos-peaches @insanelycrazyanddelusional @miggyoharaswife @justtnat @imliquidesmooth @thedevillovesflowers @mvc2019 @starrynightnight @risinglightmoon @charming4u @whitetearx @blueparadisecollection16s @idontknowwhatimgoinghere @ziyahshinez
#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel o'hara headcannons#miguel o'hara x you#miguel o'hara#across the spiderverse#spiderman 2099#close encounters of the spiderkind#miguel o'hara x single mother!reader
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colour me in: blooming | jjk (m)
Summary: You're the flower blossoming in Jungkook's living room, no matter how relentless the rain. And you're the sun he tirelessly orbits — warm as a home.
➳ pairing: Jungkook x reader
➳ rating: 18+
➳ genre: fwb/f2l, fake dating; hints of angst, fluff overload, suggestive
➳ warnings: full jk pov!, fluff fluff fluff, but also crying, bits of insecurities, mommy and daddy issues, their friendddsss <3, oc's favourite blanket smells like him <3, his feelings for her are consuming him in a gorgeous way 🥺, grocery shopping 🍏 and then a housewarming party, jk chocolate chip nips appreciation (oc pinches them lol), horniness, implied sex + implied boner, sexual tension, flirting and teasing and bickering, yearning, convos about their relationship/life, cooking together hehe, jk is so… jk, kissing/making out, the ending ♡
➳ word count: 15.6k
➳ a/n: domesticity is my favourite city and i never wanna leave lol. i've genuinely been enjoying fluff more than i ever thought i would. this chapter made me so damn happy and i hope it has the same effect on you guys, too <3 let me know how you liked it; feedback is always appreciated 🥺 also, there are lil sub-headings to avoid confusion with the timeline!! enjoy!! 🤍
➳ a/n2: even though i am a tiny bit late… happy birthday @jkaxl. love you so much, axelle <3
➳ listen to: daylight by taylor swift (ty anon <3) | full collaborative playlist 🤍
SERIES MASTERPOST | TAGLIST
MASTERLIST | WIPs
”Are you happy?”
“I’m… I’m adjusting to it all. It’s new. But so far I feel— relieved.”
“Okay.” He pauses. “I’m sorry I didn’t encourage that feeling earlier. But… you know. You found your way on your own, and somehow, I find that just as remarkable. If not so much more.”
“Thank you.”
Silence breaks the dialogue, but there are still shreds of unspoken words he’s not letting out yet. Right on the tip of his tongue, resting quietly; so you wait. Let your weary gaze slump to your lap, blinking until you hear a rustle and a—
“Do you want to come over sometime?”
You don’t know.
So you respond in just that uncertainty, “Maybe at some point? When it’s… not so overwhelming anymore.”
“I understand. Hey,” another break in his speech, “I’m proud of you.”
Your heart suspends for a fraction of a moment, but you feel the seething, searing pain. Fresh, clumping up your throat.
“…Thank you.”
THE SUNDAY AFTER THE PRESS CONFERENCE
When Jungkook locks the door, the apartment is quiet, but the living room light still glowing.
Still fired up and hot, the cool back of his hand pats his warm neck and cheek. Your name threatens to tumble off his tongue, but an oddly calm feeling advises against it. And as he carries his bag into the living room, setting it down next to a big flower pot you so wanted, he sees why.
Because you’re curled up on the couch, temple against the back of it, legs pulled in. Your favourite blanket — that you swear constantly smells like him — is draped half over you, falling off one of your shoulders.
You’re sound asleep.
Jungkook recognises the pout even from afar; lets his eyes drift from your face to the hand peeking out of the blanket. Brushing a piece of paper that is holding on for dear life, attempting not to slip off your lap.
What if he never moved? If he kept staring?
Back in college, one of his dearest professors used to say, “You know it’s art when even blinking feels like a waste of time. You don’t want to spend a second not looking at it.”
That very semester is still a major component of Jungkook’s memory. Ever since, he’s seen a handful and a dozen and a hundred pieces that matched the words once uttered.
Just, never as much as today.
The sky has obscured since he left two hours ago — he wonders how fast that time passed for you. Either way, he reckons you didn’t rest until your body forced you to. Because it’s not anywhere near bedtime; but the changes in your life constantly add to your exhaustion.
He wanted to help. He did all morning before you sent him away, arguing that, “You’re already doing too much. And you hate paperwork anyway!”
To which he expressed, “But I don’t hate you or having you here!”
“Just go!” You reached to his left nipple, poking it, and he, wearing a frisky smirk, instinctively threw a protective hand over it. “The muscles demand your attention desperately. Just don’t look at other girls’ butts, ‘kay?”
He chuckled.
You made it sound like a life-altering goodbye to a year-long journey instead of a brief trip to the gym. He nodded solemnly, nearly saluting as he agreed, “You’re right. Gonna make sure I’m able to crush you extra hard.”
But it seems you crushed and knocked yourself out well enough. And that after he sent out various emails with you, drafting and crafting a battle plan, googling salient issues and their solutions, and writing down lists of everything still left to do before you can actually move in.
The two of you are lucky the landlord is laid-back. Usually, they don’t let anyone move in so quickly; demand a couple months. And you’ll already be settling here officially the very next.
Not that it makes any difference.
You already spend your dusks and dawns here, clinging, reluctant to go home. And he won’t tell you to; he’d be a fool to. Plus, he hates his bed cold.
Jungkook’s steps are slow, muscles painful to the touch. He sweeps his tresses back as he nears your slumbering, balled up form, soon pressing a hand into the arm of the couch. Suppressing a groan, he leans in; frees your closed eye from a lock before he plants a kiss next to it.
You stir with the softest flutter of your eyelashes, just a teeny tiny bit.
God. You tilt his world off its axis.
“Baby,” he whispers.
It must be pulling you out of the remnants of your doze, because your muscles awaken, corners of your lips twitching. The movement of your legs finally pushes the paper off the blanket, and Jungkook hurries to catch it before it can drift to the floor; places it on the table.
He kneels; and for the briefest, smallest moments, you flinch when your pupils eventually align with his. Then, relaxation floods you anew, and you grip the blanket, sliding it back over you — only for it to glide down again.
You smile — a tired beam, accompanied by a sigh. Not quite wide, because you’re not fully there yet, but still so genuine. Stretching a little, you murmur, “You’re back.”
“And you’re still working,” he scolds, albeit cushioning his words by bringing a fingertip to your jaw. Flicking affectionately, softly. “Did you eat?”
“Mhmmm. But it’s—” Your hand taps for something, moving under the blanket; and a second later, you’re lighting up your phone, squinting at it. “It’s not late. Gonna eat with you again. I’m not that tired anymore.”
As if on cue, you yawn, tears of weariness collecting. You interrupt it with a gentle snicker and promise, “I mean it.”
The lopsided smile emerges on his features quickly. The drowsy, vulnerable tone in your voice caresses his heart like a gust… but the meaning behind it doesn’t pass by him so fast.
“Don’t overwork yourself, okay?” he repeats for the fifth time today alone; it’s become a constant habit. A reminder, like clockwork. “The body knows when you do.”
“No. I feel great.”
“Just. Be nice to yourself, munchkin.”
“I am,” you defend, attempting to stress the verb, but not quite getting there, “I am. Don’t worry so much.”
An impossible demand; but how would he explain it to you?
Despite the shake of his head, he still gives in, “Okay. I’ll shower and be back in a sec, yeah?”
He waits for your confirmation until you hum in unintelligible agreement, moving back in to plant a kiss on your forehead. Rushes to the shower, washes off today’s effort.
Wet hair strands pushed back, he finds you shuffling and organising the papers you read and filled in today, placing them neatly in the middle of the table. You look more awake now, delivering a content smile before heading to the kitchen with him.
Only, your mind might not be entirely unfogged yet — because your movements are slow. Different from how he handles the stir fry that the two of you cooked for lunch together.
You were proud of your creation — told Jungkook how you’re still far from the skills he possesses, but not bad to start with and improving every day. Seasoning better, understanding how to cut faster without hurting yourself in the process.
It’s lovely, watching the contentment spread in your eyes.
Yet, Jungkook always makes sure to stand close to your back, hands lifted, persistently ready to salvage the situation if need be.
But right now, judging from your clearly burdened brain, he bestowed a relatively simple task upon you. And you look so cute doing it — bun all messy, shoulders slumped, sporting (after stealing) his joggers since they’re so ridiculously comfortable, so get your own.
He side-eyes you every now and then, forbearing a chuckle; but when your lower lip juts in concentration, he can’t help but sling an arm around your waist. The jug containing the iced tea shakes, and you hold the glass carefully, voicing a little, “Oh— I… Kook.”
You’re wide-eyed and caught off guard; blinking when he tilts his head and leaves a kiss under your ear.
You raise your shoulder at the tickling sensation, and when you call his name again, your voice is reprimanding. But he could pick out the endearment even in his sleep.
That’s how it goes every hour of the day; sweet and new ever since you started frequenting his place even more often than before.
Something has occurred since the press conference. Two days only — but the universe has changed. Maybe it has expanded faster than ever and birthed a couple billion more stars, made even the nights brighter. He doesn’t know.
All he does recognise is that unnamed, newfound feeling spreading in his chest, and he’s been unblurring it. Bit by bit. Letting it take on a form that will soon consume him. He’s sure.
And soon, there’ll be a fitting word and definition matching this phenomenon, too.
It’s triggered by even the smallest things.
Like by the sound of your steps when you walk through the apartment. Or by the way you hum your favourite song all the time, unconsciously; then singing the line you hold dearest to your heart before resuming to the hum.
Trust in me when I say…
Or even… by how you’re facing him an hour later, satiated and cross-legged on the bed as you finish up today’s work.
You’ll have to notify the bank and whatnot of your move soon, so you need to brainstorm the relevant institutions that the new address and information will go to. It shouldn’t take too long; you’re diligent, so you’ll just be noting down all numbers next to the places you need to contact and then crash.
Jungkook soon takes over that task, lips moving as he reads the words, writes them down. And amidst the end-of-the-day chore, you crane your neck to read, and tell him, “You have such pretty handwriting.”
“So do you. I didn’t know you made circles over your lower case I’s,” he looks closer to where you scribbled, tapping the pen against a letter, “and awwh. The curves of the T’s!”
You giggle before you add, “I’ve heard a pretty handwriting symbolises inner beauty, by the way.”
“Ohh, so we’re both beautiful.”
“No doubt. We need to take more pictures… we look great together.”
That’s what’s been filling the hours of these days, too, Jungkook supposes. The airy, light atmosphere within the four walls he’s come to share with you. Laughter and shared glances, despite the stack awaiting you — because it signifies far more than paperwork.
Which is why it surprises him when a subtle switch occurs, suddenly and unannounced.
When he looks at your fingers lifting a paper, he can’t say what you’re seeing, but your ardour falters a little. Crooning dying, expression not matching the smile on the pictures you spoke of.
Delicately, you trace the edges of the document before putting it back down, aligning it with the rest of the pile. Pushing the whole thing to the side, you sigh, and he, a silent observer up to this moment, asks, “What’s wrong?”
“Hm?”
“You’re thinking about something. And I don’t like it when you’re quiet like this.”
“Oh… It’s nothing.” The shrug is subtle and unconvincing, and the tight shutting of your lips so telling to him. He senses the tension before you finally reveal, “Dad called today. And…” He waits; another shrug. “It’s nothing. He just asked how I was holding up. And that he’s sorry things had to escalate on Friday.”
Ah. Odd.
Jungkook would never say it to you: Because he has never been one to talk families down, sever a bond by voicing his opinion, even if the relationship’s already hanging by a thread. No… he’d never say it to you.
But.
There’s a dull realisation in the back of his mind; and it evokes quiet anger in him. That… there was always a potential anchor inhabiting the same house as you, but never serving as one.
Hidden behind your mother’s back, letting it all pass — probably for you to build character.
Jungkook has always assumed that his dad did just that, too. Throwing him into the world without support, letting a seemingly irresponsible teenager, and then young adult, experience hardships in order to learn how to deal with them.
In contrast to your father, his dad wouldn’t apologise to him… yet, in the end, morally and emotionally, both your families fucked up big time.
“Oh…”
You nod, elaborating, “He wanted to know if I was going to visit him. But I need a bit of time.”
Right… thinking about it, you haven’t seen your father in a while. And your mother hasn’t blown up your phone since Friday evening — when you came out of the glass building, with equally glassy yet hopeful eyes.
You truly must have let off steam in there for her to back away.
“Is that why you were saying you’ll be rushing to the house after work?”
Because as far as he recalls, you’ve been talking about gathering your stuff immediately after working hours — or on Saturday mornings. Never any other time. Because you know they won’t be at home then.
“Yeah,” you confirm, “I feel horrible neglecting him like that, because he seems to be glad that I’m happy, but…”
Your lips point downward; you clear your throat, but it doesn’t hide the tremble in your voice, “I just wish he’d defended me sometimes. Dunno. Maybe he did and I just don’t know about it? And it never worked? It’s what I like to think.”
God…
“Because,” you continue your vent, “he was strict but not like her, and… Sometimes he did recognise bullshit when he saw it. I’d hear them talk and he wouldn’t always see eye to eye with her. But a bit more open support would’ve been cool, you know?”
Shit, how it angers Jungkook.
The knot in your throat; how you avert his gaze; the looming tears. It all angers him.
He moves his hand to your knee, keeping his voice and heart steady for you. Simply uttering, “Baby…”
“And… and then today he suddenly seemed… I don’t know.” You take a deep breath, shaking your head. Your blinking fastens, and you vehemently dodge Jungkook’s eyes. “I dunno how casually he said it, but he told me he was proud.”
The way you emphasise the word… as if it’s a stranger to you, like you’re trying it out…
Jungkook sighs, heart and chest heavy, muttering so kindly—
“Oh, sweetheart… Ah, come here—”
His palm shoves the papers aside some more, uncaring, and brings you closer to his body. Yearning for your embrace, he shifts with you until your legs wrap around each other. Fingers slither to your chin to raise it, and then pinch your cheek adoringly.
The bedroom light falls into your sparkling eyes, shiny with the dampness. You’re not crying, but you sniffle for a moment.
“Of course he is,” he whispers, keeping your face upright, “what’s there not to be proud of? You’re so fucking cool.”
“…You think?”
“Of course I do,” he repeats, “you’re so inspiring and smart and funny and awesome. I’m the proudest of you, in fact.”
The heat increases beneath his palms as your cheek smoulders, pupils promptly softening. As if the outline of your irises is blurring, relinquishing the harder, unwanted emotions.
“I could probably live with just that,” you respond, managing a tender laugh and mixing it with your sniffles. “But…”
But perhaps, the heavy heart won’t get entirely lighter just yet. And Jungkook’s turns half blue at the same time as yours.
“I wish my mom could react the same way instead of being so… stubborn. I mean, it’s a good thing that I want to stand on my own two feet! And aside from work — she also saw me in the summer, and she knew how I felt without you. She sees how I feel now with you, too, and yet.”
You puff out some air, as if you’d been dying to rant; and he imitates the release of a quiet breath, but for wholly other reasons.
Because…
Along with the melancholy drenching your voice, the guilt shoots an arrow to his heart. Guilty about this damn summer; about the days he nearly gave up on you. If he could encase your fractured soul in a quick cure…
“I’m sorry she keeps hurting you, baby. And… I’m sorry you cried. Being sad over a loser like me was the last thing you needed, so…”
He’s half joking; lifting the corner of his lips. You seem to know, too, because you match his smile — still pledging, “Being sad sucked, but… you’re right here now and. I do need you.”
It’s so easy for you to tinge his entire being in a bright pink. Because somewhere in the depths of his mind, he admits that he wanted to hear this. That he wants you to need him as much as he needs you.
“And I’m right here to stay,” he promises. “Even if she doesn’t. Okay?”
“Yeah… yeah. But maybe someday she can be proud, too.”
It’s fucking you up more than he thought. Probably more than you thought.
“I’m sure,” he guarantees, “some people accept their mindsets as the only truth, angel, but one day she’ll come around.” You only nod. So he adds, “I’ll fix this with you.”
“Fix it?”
“The issues you deal with. And the ones I deal with. You and I together, okay?”
Your motions are slow. The nod is barely one; maybe because his hands refuse to establish yet another distance to your skin. And maybe because you’ve tired yourself out once and for all. The slight slouch is telling; your body needs some rest.
Enough with the papers.
“You know… somehow, this excites me,” he says. The grin emerging confuses you for a while; the flicker in your eyes is as delightful as the moment. “Pulling out all the stops and making things better with you, I mean. I wouldn’t wanna do it with anyone else.”
And he’d know. Because if he’d been comfortable enough, he would’ve long ago; he had the chance to. Yet, the courage never surfaced — until with you.
His touch drops from your face to the side of your neck, shaking you gently before he says, “You excite me all the time.”
Shouldn’t be news to you — bearing his unceasing kisses and everlasting words in mind, his bliss is difficult to miss. There’s barely any containing it around you.
And maybe you know what he means; because judging from your dreamy smile, you can’t seem to muster any self-control either. Feeling the joy bubbling, growing, simmering in the middle of your stomach until it explodes and you—
Wrap your arms around his neck abruptly. Attacking him until balance abandons him, falling back onto the bed before you land on top of him. The hug is crushing, your body pushing into his with every sliver of fondness you can summon.
He could say something. Blurt more admissions dipped in honey. But he doesn’t question it; doesn’t comment on it. Only relishes the silence and your warm cheek against his chest, cuddling in.
And sighs in contentment.
A WEEK LATER
You’re messing up the structured system he established for himself.
The groceries are scattered in the cart; instead of playing Tetris with them, as he usually does, you’re piling them up randomly, unaware of the mess.
Jungkook doesn’t have the heart to tell you that the pack of eggs isn’t supposed to be balancing on top of other products like this. Because holy shit, you are buzzing. Not because you don’t know how to grocery shop, but because of the conversation this morning.
”I've got a whole list in my head. We’ll need a shit ton to make this work tonight.”
You were taming your hair as you listened; watching your reflection follow your movements — and as he readied himself for the day, Jungkook watched from afar.
You’d decided that for now, a week was enough to mourn the loss of whatever familial bonds could’ve been. Just last night you told him that starting this new life means an opportunity to gradually leave your sorrow behind, even if it takes some time.
And in celebration of the new arc you’re so joyfully approaching, you’d decided to host a housewarming of some sorts.
Jungkook’s friends already know his place; but the pronoun has changed. This time, you want them to step into your apartment, too.
Securing a hair strand with a clip, you asked, “Do we have it all here?”
“Not everything. Gotta go grocery shopping later.”
“Ohhh…”
Your fingers floated to the edge of the wash basin. You held it in your grip, leaning over it a little, staring into your own eyes quietly. He checked with another step closer to the bathroom, glimpsing at the expression in the mirror.
Calm, but thinking.
“What is it?” he asked, pulling his jeans’ zipper close.
“Uhh. Do you need help?”
“You should rest. You’re already doing so m—”
“No, no, I mean…” You let the sink go, folding your fingers. Inhaling for just a moment when your eyes fell on his bare torso. “I want to go grocery shopping with you. It’s Saturday and I have nothing to do until tonight. So… Please don’t go without me?”
The big eyes and saccharine question went straight to his heart; like one of Cupid’s pointy, sharp arrows targeting the exact middle of the organ. What else could he have done other than breaking into a breathy laugh — wide grin building a lively start to the morning.
“Of course. I’ll wait until you’re ready then.”
You raised a triumphant, tight fist, and he shook his head in delight. Diminished the distance between your bodies, a hand pressing into the back of your head before pulling you to his lips and placing a kiss to your forehead. Right before—
“Hey— ouch?”
It didn’t hurt; but he still felt the fingers pinching his tiny nipples — and heard your cheeky, “Why are they always hard? And why are you always shirtless, Jeon?”
He didn’t argue that changing into outdoor clothes didn’t count. Instead, the bright golden light you cast in his mind distracted him, taking him back.
You’d said that to him before; everything has changed since then.
“Why are you smiling like this?” you ask, holding a pack of four yellow apples in one hand, red ones in the other.
“Hm?” Jungkook rubs a hand over his cheek, feeling the glee in his countenance before flattening the dimples. “It’s nothing. I’m just liking how much fun you’re having.”
“I am! But most of all because I can’t wait to cook with you today.”
Your words instantly conjure pictures of a potential evening; idyllic ones mixing with utter chaos. Rushing and cutting and serving — but for one of the very first times together. Only milestones ahead.
A higher pitched gushing threatens to fall out of Jungkook, right here in the fruit aisle. But instead, you raise your hands again, asking, “Which ones?”
“Hmmm… neither. Let’s get the green ones.”
You let your arms fall, a finger pointing towards him, and say, “Ohhh. Good call.”
And then you proceed to complicate the cart labyrinth again. What a savagery. Jungkook waits until you’ve turned around and works on reorganising again, following his system. Then, he thinks — this could be draining, but it’s not.
Because you keep each other entertained. And neither of you bothers about the gapes you receive.
Not when he leans over the cart, shoving it in teeny tiny steps; continuing when he realises it makes you laugh.
Or, when you cheer once you find something the two of you like that nobody else enjoys; accompanied by exclaimed Ohhhhs and Haaas. And not as you argue when you find something to disagree about.
It seems that you do not dig dates, and he, the friendly omnivore, takes playful offence in that. He teases you across half the supermarket until you turn the tables, picking up an eggplant and interrupting him with a,
“Look! This is you.”
The roll of his eyes only veils his amusement a little, he’s sure. Because your enthusiasm remains steady, including the impish pull of his beige Supreme beanie over his eyes and a kiss to his cheek that paints the spot in a rosy dust.
Pointing to a glass of honey, Jungkook soon fights back, “And this is you.”
“…This is way too sweet and I do not know how to counter it.”
“Romance tends to make people speechless, darling.”
Your expression resembles an ellipsis; whether you’re out of answers or overwhelmingly affected by the selection of his words, he doesn’t know. He knows he’d short circuit if you ever said that to him.
“Fair,” is what you settle on, though, “wouldn’t I know what brain outages your romantic ass causes.”
You’re the model definition of a cheesy, movie-esque couple. Taehyung and Eun differ from the nature the two of you showcase; they already threatened to bring paper bags in case Jungkook and you overdo it tonight.
Can’t blame them. The world is certainly pink-tinted when you bicker and jest at the register; or when you hurry through an Ikea — courtesy of your last minute plan to buy plants — to make it home and cook in time.
Just this morning, you were daydreaming about the concept of furniture retailers and how such shops allow building a home with the most special person.
And then, as if wanting to clarify your sentiments, you turned in the car, facing him as you struggled with the belt, just to say, “Which is you for me. I’m building a home with you.”
Jungkook’s legs still melt into a puddle whenever he remembers the softness in your words, and the puppy gaze you threw as you finally leaned back in your seat.
Which is why it’s such a shame that the clock is ticking so relentlessly.
Because your initial elation turns into disapproval only for today as you wade through the labyrinthine, time-consuming design the store is so popular for. Trying to keep up with Jungkook’s pace and hastening across the rooms.
And even then, neither of your laughter ceases; you turn the most stressful situations into deep solace. The pressure soon gives way to a calm satisfaction the moment your apartment door opens.
You set up the few plants you brought; some under the window, some on the desk in the bedroom, right next to the Beauty and the Beast rose, and a jade plant in the living room. For good luck, you said.
And then, after resting for five minutes and abandoning all further breaks, you start work in the kitchen. Which proves as cooperative as he thought — that is, until you get into a friendly argument about whether to do the dishes now or later.
“One of us keeps cooking. The other washes up what we don’t need anymore,” Jungkook explains, repeating it over and over.
To which you keep defending, “Or. One cooks one dish. The other handles the second. And we finish cooking faster and then do the dishes together.”
His fingers pinch the bridge of his nose, and he whines, “It won’t make much of a difference!”
“Well, if it doesn’t, then we could do either!”
“BUT… it might get crowded if we work at the stove at the same time, babe—”
“You just don’t trust me with th—”
“Keep yelling at me like that, and—” Jungkook interjects, and you wince a tiny bit; but he continues a mere, barely lasting moment later, “and I swear I’ll kiss you.”
Beat of silence. Your eyebrows are still furrowed. And then, amidst the agitation, you erupt into laughter. Blend it with the chortle he can’t suppress, either.
To Jungkook, the sound is akin to a song — and he could spin the record all day long.
Spoiler warning — you do not kiss. But the lively chuckles and free-spirited conversations dye the atmosphere and flavour it. Its sweetness feels like a feathery kiss, too.
And whether it’s that very unlimited sense of familiarity, gradually growing, or your unwavering teamwork at last — you’re surprised when the late afternoon transforms into an early evening, a dimly blue, cloudy sky already changing into different shades of grey.
Time passed fast; but the hour-hand on the clock still hasn’t quite moved to where you’re waiting for it to settle. Because back in the living room, you’re still an hour early. Your guests are invited for around six, but you can’t say when they’ll actually show up.
Seems you wrapped up work at a convenient time. Better now than late.
You kiss your teeth in the middle of the room, scanning it for something to do. It’s clean; pretty. Plants set up, table wiped, cushions neatly set on the couch. So you remark, “We were so stressed, I didn’t think we’d be finished already.”
Jungkook, already plummeting onto the far end of the couch, pats the spot next to him, saying, “That’s good. Gives us a bit of time to relax. Anything you wanna do?”
But you don’t sit down yet. You watch your manspreading boyfriend lean back, big inked hand wrapping around the remote control. You look at the open button of his shirt, and the singular hair strands; the side parting. The mole under his lips and the big eyes.
He just doesn’t notice it until the lack of a response continues.
“Huh?” he voices again, finger stopping over the power button before his eyes flit back to you.
You look deep in emotions and distracted; if he could guess, then even… ferociously yearning. He waits with a dancing heart until you admit boldly, “There’s plenty I can think of that I wanna do right now.”
You fold your hands behind your back, chest out a little, legs crossing. You curl your lower lip in, nibbling at it. It affects him, and you know. He sucks in air, a hand on his thigh. Blinking at you, and then poking the inside of his cheek with his tongue.
He leaves out a puff of a tiny laugh, shaking his head a bit. Nearly succumbing to the thought that…
Perhaps there’s an activity you can indulge in before they come, right—
Wrong.
Jungkook, no matter how tempted, throws another glance at the clock, and argues, “Stop thinking of eggplants. They’ll probably be here soon, so your smooth-talking is not allowed to work!”
Your body relaxes, back in its prior position; you pout for a second. “Fine. Then I’ll get dressed before anything else.”
Jungkook sighs in relief — close. Way too close. Tonight might just stretch his jeans if you keep this up; his blood is already abandoning his brain and putting its attention elsewhere.
But you’re well-mannered in the company of guests, right?
Only one way to find out — an hour to go.
Jungkook heaves his body off the couch merely ten minutes later.
And maybe even that was too early.
Maybe he should’ve waited for you to trudge out of the bedroom; or should’ve gotten his clothes and changed somewhere else. Because when he follows your steps to find a new attire for himself, too, you’re sitting at the very edge of the bed, dress already on.
It’s not too posh; rather casual. A green cotton one, pulled up to your hip because you’re dragging transparent tights over your legs. A patch of your thighs is still visible; part of your ass on display where your panties don’t reach. Skin far too empty without his kiss on it.
He doesn’t know how you do it; but within a moment, you elicit a plethora of emotions in him. Burning desire; comfortable warmth; cosy affection. You look so cuddled in in that autumn dress.
Pretty. So gorgeous; you’ll drive him insane.
But the craze doesn’t manifest in hunger this time, but gathers in a single breath, let out in a sigh. Which… makes you recoil. Your hand briefly bolts to your chest, eyes rolling, head shaking. You murmur a quiet, “Babe…” before resuming the task.
Jungkook watches as you lift your body to pull your tights over your ass and the dress back into place, and then reaches out a palm to you; urging yours to settle in it.
Still trapped in a cube of daydreams, he tugs you in until your grace radiates toward him, and then tells you—
“My baby is the prettiest ever. Ever, ever.”
You take his fawning with glowing cheeks, smile so unbelievably worth being alive as you answer, “Your baby isn’t sure if she deserves this so suddenly, but… thankful either way.”
Your voice is an endearing mix of soft and enthusiastic. The combination that breathes life into a room. You’re so…
“God,” he says, squeezing your hand, lifting his other fingers to touch the hem of your dress. Fixing it albeit already perfectly sitting. Then looks up; eyes dropping to your lips. “Maybe you were right. Want to kiss you stupid right now.”
And he would; he wouldn’t hesitate if you didn’t move a palm to his face, pressing a thumb to his plush mouth. Telling him, “Nope, too late. The make up wasn’t easy to do. And dark lipstick is hard to remove.”
Fuck, not when he’s kissing it off…
“I…” Gulp. “Fine, princess.” He removes your hand from his face, towing you back into the living room. “Then, what do we do now? Movie?”
“Nah… It’s so hard to stop watching. Gonna kick them out again if we start now. What about… hm.”
Your eyes dart across the room, and Jungkook takes the moment to suggest, “Or we could have some soju already? Or wine, beer, whatever?”
“Or…”
You wait. Jungkook follows your gaze to the back of the room, surprised when it falls on a peeking canvas behind another big plant pot. Oh — that’s still there. He never took it out, and neither did you. Protecting his privacy, probably.
But perhaps it’s lighting a bulb over your head, because you soon ask, “Or. Wanna give me a house tour?”
“A house tour? Don’t you know every corner already?”
“Yeah but,” you shrug, rounding the couch with him in tow, “I wasn’t always here. You organised the place the way you wanted to when you moved in, so you’d know it better. Like…” You point to the turned painting, “What’s that?”
“That’s… Remember the drawing I had in my notebook? Of Gureum?”
Quite a while ago. You visited him for the first time in Namjoon’s studio back then; recalled it at the exhibit, too. Crazy how sentiments have changed. From a silly play-pretend game to damaged souls to this…
You nod.
“Yeah so,” he continues, “I painted him on a bigger surface.”
Your eyes shoot open, genuine interest in them. “Oh? Can I see?”
“Of course.”
It’s not his best work, honestly; but it is close to his heart. A piece he still wants to improve and feature in his own exhibit once it rolls around. The colouring process will be interesting; it’s barely an outline yet.
But you seem to perceive it with utter fascination and sheer joy. Because the moment Jungkook heaves the canvas up, turning it for you to see, your chin drops. You gasp, mumbling under your breath, “You’re kidding!”
“…Do you like it?”
“It’s so cute! This is…” You lean in, taking in every detail; commenting on it. “He’s a fluffball! Oh my god, the tongue peeking out. He looks so happy.” When you look up into his eyes, Jungkook’s heart does a thing; and his cheeks the other thing. “You painted him from memory?”
“Mmh, maybe a couple details? But I got most of him from a picture my aunt sent me a while ago. He’s been looking much older these days and I wanted to capture him before he ages even more. Made me miss him so much.”
“Awwh, Kook…” You pout. “I really want to meet him one day.”
He looks at you with something knowing and so telling in his gaze; he feels it unveil through his own stare. The knowledge he possesses about something, and that you don’t.
You might notice hints of it, but you don’t question it. Listening when he responds, “You will. He really is a fluffball and remembers me even after months and years of distance.”
“I love him already.” You lift, straightening your back. Watching as Jungkook sets the painting back before you add, “Okay. House tour. What else?”
“Hmm. Let’s see. Come.” He leads you the short way to the cupboard, and you follow in tiny steps, like an explorer running from one treasure to another. So exhilirated. So fucking cute. “Look, these— and don’t laugh, these are precious to me.”
“Laugh?”
“…These,” he opens the cupboard doors, reaching to the far back, behind some decoration; and pulls out a deck of cards. “Are my Yu-Gi-Oh cards. I used to collect them long ago, but I’m never throwing them away. Also—”
Your lips are parted, your eyes focused. Eyebrows shooting up gently, delighted when he takes out another small object from the back.
“My Jiraiya figure that I got for my tenth birthday.”
“Holy shit… I really never bothered looking in hidden corners.” Yeah… but now that you are, you’re making this place your own, too. No, it already is yours, the way he is. He swoons at the thought. “This is so cool. Why would I laugh?!”
“Ah… Were you a Naruto fan?”
You tilt your head. “A little. More into Detective Conan, though.”
Jungkook wonders… How foolish might his smile be looking right now?
“You… keep surprising me, angel,” he says — and you seem to like the praise.
Because you light up, forefinger touching his chest as you reiterate, “See? The house tour wasn’t a bad idea at all! Look at us tracking back the path of our souls, too.”
Jungkook can’t help but chuckle. You’re a breath of fresh air to be around; so incredibly tender when you’re yourself. After all those weeks, you’re finally back to who he used to know. Not as sad anymore.
Never sick of the hand-holding, he grips your palm again, voice hushed when he orders, “Follow me, quick!” The mysterious journey leads you to the closet next; back to the quiet bedroom as he playfully shushes you. “I haven’t worn them in a long time, so you won’t know, but… Look, because the secret's out.”
You crane your neck to see what he’s referring to. And when you do, you coo and laugh straight away. Endlessly enraptured when he claims, “Wahh. They were my super-favourites.”
Iron Man socks. Obviously worn a hundred times; so, so him.
His bunny teeth flash in all their glory when he smiles, dimples out and corners of his eyes crinkly. He feels you hold his hand tighter, and you pick the most supportive tone when you say, “You need to start wearing them again! It’s so sweet when you’re geeky.”
“Maybe you’re right.” He stuffs them back, though not to the very bottom anymore; places them on top for easy access. And then, he continues, “Okay. One more thing for the glorious house tour, and we’re done. It’s another important sight, actually.”
“Ah. Oh?”
Barely a couple seconds later, you’re back to where the trip started. Following suit when he kneels near the table; swift beam spreading over your face when he clears his throat and narrates, “This… Is where I painted on you. Not on another medium, but I painted on you. Remember?”
You must. He rarely abandons paper and his usual colours like that; but you were the most marvellous masterpiece he ever covered. The most outstanding canvas he’s ever drawn on…
“I do.”
Your gaze falls sideways; are you remembering the same heart on your waist that he does? And how he touched it; smeared it under the shower water. How your back pressed into his chest, unknown what feelings you truly harboured, but never failing to showcase his own care to you.
The kisses on your shoulder. The whispers in your ears. The plea for you to stay.
“Of course I do. It was so calming,” you add, “and so beautiful.” You touch the soft carpet, plucking at its tiny fibres. “You consider it a sight at Jeon manor?”
He snickers at your choice of words, but then inhales, and very sternly says, “Yeah. We also had sex here, so it’s forever tainted. I remember it felt… like… we should do it ag—”
“Now it’s you saying these things!” You move a fist to his bicep, pushing against it lightly. “Be serious. Be romantic! It’s not the time to make me want you.”
“Oof, hey… For the record, I was being romantic! And also, I only want you more when you’re being sweet,” he rubs the spot you grazed; he barely felt it, “but seriously. I still remember everything I felt for you. And how crazy you drove me… and how vulnerable you were.”
You’re still stroking the fur of the carpet as you look into his eyes; and he sees a molten puddle in yours. Only one side of your lips lifts, but the softness in your voice is genuine, “I think I still am. Just a lot safer than before.”
“…Good. Me too.”
And that’s all.
That’s all his mind comes up with, because all the words and infatuation are locked in his heart, moving to his fingertips when he inches closer. He raises them to your chin. Knees near yours and close the yawning distance until your lips are a whisker away.
Funny — how his strong chest holds a feeble heart. Bursting and aching, full and yearning.
If he could, he’d stay here with you forever, just like that.
But. The two of you have a party to host.
And the suddenly ringing phone reminds you of it. Makes you flinch until your noses and foreheads touch, and you laugh, rubbing them as you tap the couch for the device. The two of you lean against the sofa, cosy on the carpet as you pick up.
He hears Eun’s voice announce through the phone, “We’re all here. Just a warning, because you better not be naked.”
You shoot a glance toward Jungkook. He snorts, and you start, “Why would we…”
“‘Cause we’re early for once. Taehyung didn’t need as much time with his hair today. So be prepared.”
Jungkook nods in confirmation. Taehyung usually needs to be told an earlier time when invited to an event or get-together.
There are sounds in the background, and he readies himself to register another voice. But not a second later, the doorbell chimes. Guess the two of you will have to wait with the bare devotion.
Because for now, it’s time to indulge the gang. Let them stream in with vibrant greetings, wrapped gifts, endless booze and sweets as irresistible as you.
Jimin is the only guest coming in a little later, rushing straight from his shift. And Jungkook recognises quickly that he’s not Jimin’s first pick for conversation after a timid handshake and parting of ways.
There’s no enmity between them; Jungkook reckons it’s more the awkwardness from the Blue Night still lingering between Jimin and him. Maybe even some leftover guilt about how he used to perceive the younger man.
At least, it’s strange when he, eventually, does take a seat on the couch, separated from Jungkook only by a healing Yoongi. You’re busy talking to Eun, and Taehyung has escaped to the bathroom. Yoongi maintains a healthy atmosphere with casual talks and soft jokes.
But even if somewhat reluctantly, it seems that Jimin is at least trying when he leans back on the couch, enabling a better view to Jungkook as he asks, “Did you paint that one?”
Jungkook follows the finger pointing at the wall next to the window; nothing too out of the ordinary. Just colourful flowers. It’s okay. Better this than nothing to warm up to each other.
Turning on the couch, Jungkook waves a hand in denial as he explains, “Ah, no, no. She bought it because she thought it’s cute.”
“But you could paint that, too,” Yoongi argues, followed by Jungkook’s shy, “I guess.”
“Ohh, okay, okay. Well, since we’re talking about it. Even if you didn’t paint it,” Jimin says, “been wanting to tell you that I loved your exhibit stuff. Uhm, Eun showed me pictures. Hope that’s okay.”
That’s surprising. Jungkook considers himself gifted in this sense, but— having someone actually boast about his work for him makes him feel… accomplished? Appreciated.
No wonder you hold your friends in such high regard.
“Yeah! Of course. Thank you, Jimin.”
“It’s a pretty place, by the way.”
Yoongi wiggles a finger back and forth with an agreeing nod, snacking away, a quiet listener for the time being. There’s something amusing about it; makes Jungkook smile as he tells Jimin, “Thanks. And I’m glad you could come. Can imagine work’s a lot, so…”
“Yeah. No worries. Everything for our girl.”
Jungkook hums as the chat dies and the awkwardness returns. And then, he remembers—
Speaking of — where are you again? Still in the kitchen? Seems so. Or at least, moving away from it bit by bit.
Immersed in a conversation, holding the frame of the living room door, at the threshold to the anteroom. You’re discussing something with Eun, your expression focused. He can’t really make out your words because of those exchanged between Jimin and Yoongi, but…
A moment later, you do look at him. And then away again immediately — as if he caught you. A motion of your hand waves whatever cryptic topic off; and intrigued, Jungkook comes to a stand.
In vain — because Taehyung returns the same moment, babbling about whatever Yoongi just said. And you use the opportunity to march into the room, asking Jungkook to help you set the table for dinner.
To his chagrin, most of them offer to help momentarily. Taehyung swarms around you, insisting on plating, making it impossible for Jungkook to find a moment to ask what your conversation was about. And eventually, he gives up — if it’s important, you’ll tell him.
So for now, he relishes the evening your friends grant the two of you. They compliment the food, narrate short and long stories, watching Jungkook and you unwrap the gifts — board games from Jimin, cutting boards and wine from Yoongi, a stylish, modern thermostat from Taehyung and Eun.
The ecstasy overflows, the screeches probably making your neighbours think of you unhinged. Wine spills on the table; curses exchange; laughing turns into crying.
If anything other than this life is considered good, then Jungkook doesn’t crave that goodness. The unbridled chuckles, and your never-dropping smile are beyond everything twinkling and gorgeous already.
And he’s happy, too. Elated when you cover your mouth when you laugh; and overjoyed when you stand at the window after dinner, leaning forward. Breathing in the autumn air.
Jungkook follows once things wind down and the guests agree upon an appropriate volume. He mimics your stance, lower arms on the windowsill and hands hanging relaxed.
His fingers graze the withering flowers in the window box. They’re slowly dying by the hands of the approaching cold, and the rain keeps overwatering them. Yet… they still let it hurt them, holding on for as long as possible.
So in love with the shower.
It’s almost a bit tragic.
Jungkook refocuses, turning to you and asks, “What are you doing?”
Your head moves to the side, and you kill the remaining distance between you. Step close until you’re nearly nudging his elbow.
“Just,” you nod into a haphazard direction; into the outside world, “looking at the rain. Got a bit stifling in there.”
“Yeah.” Jungkook throws a glance over his shoulder. “Also, I think they’re getting drunk.”
“Mhmmm. Except Jimin. Poor him is looking at the alcohol so longingly. Did you notice that he didn’t drink?”
“Someone has to drive them home, and Yoongi with his healing injury is out. I offered, but Jimin insisted on taking care of them and not, as he said, bothering us. Super thoughtful, really.”
You smile, nodding along before you silence. He doesn’t know what you’re thinking of; or what you’re seeing. Maybe you’re truly only revelling in the rain; contrasting it with the sunshine you radiate.
Maybe he should look for a rainbow somewhere.
In the midst of the tranquil evening, your gape strays from the drizzle with a blink. It descends to his twirling thumbs, and then moves along the length of his arm. Jungkook notices your attention from the side, but only turns to look at you when he realises what you’ve fixated on.
You gesture towards the hues and outlines on his skin, delicately touching the writhing snake as you say, “Want a tour for them, too, if you’d ever allow. I imagine it could be fun.”
“Tattoo tracing?” His lips move into an endeared smile; you look so fascinated. Like you’re seeing them for the first time. “I’d be down. I could even…” His fingers journey to yours, gently leading them to the flowers. “I can even give you a sneak peek.”
“Really?”
“Sure. Look.” He guides your touch over the dazzling orange of his tiger lily. “This is me. Tiger lilies beg for love. I’ve always sought love, too.”
Your eyes change. He knows you see it, too — the urge to never be abandoned again, all the time.
He can nearly see your heart ache. And feels his own thump a thousand miles a second. A fraction of it breaks off and jumps into your chest, making it yours; it does it all the damn time until you hold the entirety of it in the palm of your hands.
Unhurried, he steers your finger further, stopping at the blue tint; clearly hears you draw a breath when he tells you, “And this… This is my girlfriend. She’s even prettier in real life… that’s right.”
For a bit, you’re speechless. Jungkook keeps admiring you in the forget-me-nots for another second, and when you don’t speak on, he meets your eyes. You’re shaking your head, and then — slowly wrapping an arm around his, moving close, head on his shoulder.
From this angle, your cheeks are demanding to be squeezed; eyelashes kiss them softly, your lips tempting curves when you laugh. Jungkook doesn’t get enough of you… and you don’t want to make it easier for him either.
Because, “Shit,” you say, “you were right about pining more when someone’s being romantic. ‘Cause you’re making me want you so bad, in every way. Are you… still up for kissing me stupid?”
“Ahh… babe.”
“I just… You excite me, too, you know?”
“Don’t say these things while they’re here, baby,” he warns, although as tenderly as anyhow possible, “you’ll give me a heart attack, I mean it.”
“Now you know how I feel all the time!” you tease, fingers flicking raindrops into his face out of nowhere.
Jungkook recoils and squirms, taken aback, but it takes him a mere second to play along. He gathers rain in his palms, threatening to toss it into your face; bickering chaos at the open living room window until your damp hands rejoin and delicate digits interlace.
And as he looks at the sad flowers again, the reality of the moment makes him think. How the two of you used to resemble the blossoms in your window box, once enduring the incessant melancholy, too.
Much like the flowers towards the downpour, Jungkook and you reached for each other while being watered by gloom — but unlike the flowers, you’re still sprouting and thriving into something vivid and fragrant. Not beaten by the agonising shower.
The rain hurt me, but I wanted to keep fighting. Because I hoped. Because I adored.
And in the end, him and you aren’t tragic like them. You will never wither — only bloom.
An hour later, the apartment is empty.
You opened all the windows to eliminate the suffocating air; and the hot water running in the sink soothes your cold skin. What a relief to watch the clinking dishes lessen; you sigh at the small amount still left, and Jungkook catches it immediately.
“See?” he teases, loading the dishwasher. Even that seems like a task after such a day; tidying up the living room was more than enough. “Good that we did most of it during and after cooking. It’s so much even now.”
Eyes heavy, you admit, “I should learn to listen to you more.”
He clicks his tongue, skipping a response, and then, out of the blue, says, “Angel… I could get used to this.”
“To me listening to you more?”
“Yes. But no. To you being here.”
You glow up, even though you’re still facing the sink, smile a little hidden, “You need to. Because I’ll be annoying you all the time.”
“Oh, I believe you.”
You hit him with a spoon, wetting the spot a bit before handing the cutlery to him. Delivering a head tilt, he smirks. Amused before he remembers something and asks, “Hey. What were you and Eun talking about earlier?”
“Hm? When?”
“Before dinner. It looked serious.”
You halt mid-movement. Did he catch something? Maybe. But you only insist, “Nothing special. About her graduation… you know, since it’s pretty soon.”
Huh. Doesn’t seem to quite cut it.
“Mmmh. Anything else?”
You feign a thoughtful moment, as if you’ve wiped your memory clean off whatever she said to you. Then, you tell him, “Yeah. I told her how you played around with the recipe and came up with the best dinner ever. And how hot you looked doing it.”
“…You said the last bit, too?”
“No.” Jungkook blows a raspberry before comically pressing his lips into a line, eyebrows furrowing. “Don’t look at me like that, it’s not my fault. I mean, do you know how attractive is it to be among people and know that this one person is still only looking at you?”
Oh, all too well…
“I would definitely know,” he chuckles. “Shit. You’ve been testing me tonight, you know?”
“…How?”
“All those compliments and ambiguous statements.” You shrug your shoulders in apparent innocence, muttering a small, ”It’s true" before he digs, “Anyway, don’t distract me. Anything else she said?”
Perhaps you’re done playing games. And perhaps you should’ve kept doing just that; because your next answer is a much greater tease.
“…I’ll tell you about it soon enough.”
Jungkook squints, organising a plate into a free spot, playfully disgruntled, “Unfair.”
“Hang in there.”
“Alright. You’re lucky I trust you.”
Your grin is gaping wide, and he attempts his best to ignore it. But when you add an evil snicker to it, regarding him with pure mirth in your eyes, he folds, “What?”
“Nothing. You’re just so cute. You’ll keep acting like you’re digging, but still always know when to respect my decisions. Maybe the bar is low? But I find trust ridiculously attractive.” You throw a longing smile at him, bringing a damp fingertip to his cheek to poke. “And to top it off… You’re so pretty, too, and I’m just… enamoured from all sides and—”
You wait and he uses the moment to wipe his cheek on his shirt. But when you don’t speak on, he spurs you on, “…And?”
“And I want you so bad.”
The plate waiting to be set into the dishwasher drops on the counter. Jungkook stares up, regarding the ceiling with a seemingly agitated look. You don’t know what’s truly whirling in him, so you warily ponder, “…What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” Jungkook turns the water off, taking the cups from your hands and placing them in the sink. He shakes his palms off the liquid, and then whispers, “Okay. Later.”
The hold around your wrist is firm, and the tug firmer. Determined, he leads you out of the kitchen, slapping a hand over the light switch; your eyes are wide when you ask, “Wait, we’re not do—”
His answer is predictable; yet, you didn’t foresee it. Because—
“Bedroom. Right now.”
THE MORNING OF THE CONFESSION
Unlike you, Jungkook has considered himself a night owl ever since he entered the bustling world of college. Settling in the city was a stirring experience, and the thrill of it, along with a girlfriend, exams and newfound friends, kept him up until the sun rose again.
He enjoyed what he did, too. Loved school, so he didn’t mind the fatigued eyes during lectures. Truly one of the handful of joys that helped rid his head of the brain fog he bestowed upon himself after each long, sleepless night.
And he was an avid participant in classes despite his sheepish persona — they shook him awake, the late afternoon workouts obliterating the rest of the exhaustion. Maybe that’s why he was so reluctant to flake out for the night, too; still energised.
But while Jungkook carried the spirit of a straight-out-of-the-high-school-freshman who disliked falling asleep early, he despised waking up at the break of day just as much.
Would groan, blinking into the sun, with no one to blame for his agitation but him. No matter how deep his fascination for his studies and how quick the fading of his initial irritation — the first few minutes of every day were pure agony.
Jungkook is still a night owl. Still wants the nights to stretch, albeit for other reasons now. But his attitude towards mornings has changed.
There’s a shift in his preferences now; you moved his universe by an inch, altered it so effortlessly. Suddenly, he doesn’t regret rising with the sun next to him. He doesn’t curse the groggy feeling anymore.
There’s a silky touch he seeks every single morning that his eyes open to, lips he follows with his own blindly. You’re a permanent presence now, air and fire to his lungs, and he feels the freshness, feels the burn whenever your fingers brush his shoulders upon waking up.
He won’t need to check in at work for a few hours still; yet, sleeping in would mean losing the minutes that you’re still here before walking out the door until the evening.
He’ll sacrifice a slumber for this. Voluntarily.
And it’s crazy how none of this requires any sort of effort or pleading from your side. How all you need to do is to breathe and talk and smile and stay.
Those extra moments, no matter how fleeting, grant him a little more time on Earth with you, and he grasps it greedily. Even when you spend it teasing the hell out of him. Or, even when you wake up with scorching cheeks and endearing, high pitched complaints.
Like today.
“I still can’t believe yesterday,” you say.
“It’s okay.”
“I embarrassed myself so hard. Thinking about it, can I really show my face at the wedding? I’ll probably make things worse.”
Jungkook keeps glancing at the back of your head, the loose bun shaking with your movement. Smoothly, his fingers trace up and down your back; a gesture he started randomly and continued the moment you mumbled, “I like it… continue?”
Sat between his legs, you’ve been swaying for a while, both uneasy and amped about the approaching event. And to Jungkook, it’s as sweet as it is frustrating to see your brain fuming like that.
“Come here, baby,” he demands, content when you reverse into him. He wraps his arms around your chest, pulling you to his body, and presses a pillowy kiss to your temple. “You’re overthinking again. I promise you, we’ll make sure you have the most fun.”
“I embarrassed myself so hard,” you repeat, and Jungkook kisses his teeth.
“You’re a clown, I’ll admit,” you whine his name, and he laughs, “but I’m telling you. I know my mom and that was her I-like-you voice. Which I didn’t doubt for a second, by the way. Like, she really seems happy with how my life has turned out, and with whom. As am I. Understand?”
One more kiss to your scalp. He swings you from side to side, ignoring the ticking of the clock. In a few, you’ll be leaving the apartment, and Jungkook will need to kill the hours until he joins Namjoon at work.
He shouldn’t be missing you already; but he still holds you tighter. Tighter until you let out a little groan, a hand on his arm. He can’t read your thoughts or decipher whether his promise helped; because you don’t answer yet.
Only wait for a few seconds, allowing him to wallow in your warmth until you call, “…Jungkook.”
“Mhh?”
“Talking about life and stuff… did you always imagine yours to be like this? Just curious.”
“Like this?” he ponders, mentally intertwining every current branch of his life into one healthily growing tree. He’s liking it. “Well… I graduated. An exhibition ahead that’ll hopefully bring me a step closer to my own studio and profession.”
You hum in pride, tapping his arm as an affectionate reward. He continues, “I do what I love, have some great friends… and I get to spend my days with my favourite person? Doesn’t sound too bad to me.”
You crane your neck to look at him; your lips are so close to his, tilted into a smile that’s so unbelievably you. “You called me that last night, too.”
“Huh? Oh, that’s right. And… I mean it. Like. Now that you’re here, it’s even clearer somehow?”
“…How so?”
“Mmh… whenever I used to get home, I’d think of what to eat and of showering and going to sleep. And when I come home now, the first thing I think of is you. What we’d cook tonight. Or what we might watch or talk about. You’re…”
He feels your chest rise under his limbs; a sigh of fondness as he knows it best.
“You’re the one I want to spend all my time with.” He pauses when you look at your blanket-covered lap, hiding your twinkling eyes. “So it’s clear.”
“You always sound so hopelessly…”
You halt mid-sentence, the touch against your arm tensing — much like his own heart, jumping to the next beat with a heavy thud. You shake your head; Jungkook doesn’t get to dwell in further thoughts… still doesn’t have the words for them yet.
Or doesn’t want to admit them yet.
If he thought about them long enough and arrived at a conclusion, would you think he’s rushing your relationship? Would it scare you?
Better not find out yet.
So he lets you talk and listens, “Anyway. So, is there anything, like… more? That you want to achieve someday? Or that you think of sometimes before you go, that’s still left for me to do.”
How fitting.
Pretending to be sinking into thoughts, Jungkook hums, letting his chest vibrate against your back, and then answers truthfully, “Yeah? Maybe a couple things. We’ll see them with time when I gather the courage to tackle them.”
“Like what?”
“Hmm… am I allowed to say that already?” More simulations, teasing you with a fake distant gaze and a hissing inhale of air. “I’m not sure. You’ll know.”
“Hey! That makes me nervous.”
“No need.” You interrupt his speech with another sound of disapproval, pulling a dorky, infectious chortle out of him; his nose scrunches up. “I’m kidding. I’m talking about all the goals I have for my career. I don’t want to stop, no matter what. Keep going and keep striving for more.”
You nod; someone as hard-working as you would understand. In a sense, you’re a role model to him, too — a sentiment that you, as you have often emphasised, reciprocate.
Yet, you advise, “Just don’t overwork. Think of Icarus! We can’t always get more than more, you know? There’s happiness in satisfaction with what we have, too. But either way…” You angle your legs, pulling them close; cuddling into him more. “I’ve got your back.”
And perhaps that’s one of the gazillion traits he cherishes so much about you.
Your position at work is reputable and treasured, and you could easily push him to work harder, too. Could want him to match your career success, because it’s more or less guaranteed for you.
But you don’t. You stand by his side, prioritising his happiness and mental strength, albeit unaware of how his future might turn out. When you say you’ve got his back, he believes you.
“I know,” he says, lips in your hair, breathing you in. “Yeah… I know.”
“Hmmm… okay,” you move on, “what about me? Do you have any expectations? Certain standards and rules? I just,” you reach forward, tugging the blanket over your chest and his arm, “I feel like that’s something one should talk about. Tell me if it’s too much, though.”
“No, you’re right. But honestly? Is it… is it weird to say that you’ve kinda become a standard?”
“…I— What do you mean?”
“I just mean that… I’m never going to tell you that I expect you to be loyal and kind because it’s the bare minimum, right? Who doesn’t want all that? I know you are, so I don’t need to say it. So I don’t have any other expectations from you; these things are already the foundation of our relationship. Just. Mmh, how do I say it?”
He thinks for a moment, but you’re nodding, as if you’ve already understood. But his thoughts don’t end here; they’re just difficult to word. In his mind, they’re clear, but upon having to express them, he doesn’t quite understand the concept of language anymore.
Curses its limitations.
But then, as emotions gingerly gather to a coherent sentence at last, he tries to explain:
“Rather than adhering to any rules or standards I could have, I feel like you’re building them for me. You make me have a type, you know?” He feels you dissolve in his arms as he taps between your clavicles. “And that’s you. I don’t want anyone if I can’t have you.”
Did he go off track? Possibly. But you don’t seem to mind.
Because your voice is painfully sweet and miniscule when you speak, on the brink of losing the fight against the tremble, “But you have me. Pinky promise that you do, for a long, long time.”
Yeah… yeah, he does. And he’d be damned if he let this go.
Because if he ever did — if he ever so foolishly lost you again after combating these cruel storms, you’d still remain his standard. He’d look for you in each face passing, and in every laugh sounding.
The blueprint. And an everlasting memory.
Does it make sense? He doesn’t know.
And it doesn’t matter anyway. You’re right here.
“I’ll take your pinky promises,” he says, overjoyed as he crosses his legs over your shins, peppering more kisses onto your cheeks, the corner of your eyes, on your ear. He speaks in between your sighs and quiet laughs, “What about you? What do you want?”
“I… I don’t think I’ve ever had any expectations either, but. The wedding and—” You hesitate, as if considering dropping whatever you were going to list; and then you start anew, “The wedding made me think, and I— I just want to have so much fun with you.”
“Yeah? Tell me about it.”
“I want all the ordinary things we do to feel special because it’s us doing them. And I don’t ever want us to regret anything, so… I want us to be brave.”
“Brave? Well, you’re already the strongest and bravest person I know.”
“Braver. I want to live without restraints. And I don’t want to overthink anymore.”
Hmm…
Jungkook has seen your jumbled up thoughts before. The pain you cause to your mind sometimes, and the zoned out eyes painting pictures of what you fear the most.
He knows that feeling. Has battled one too many beasts to lessen the ache; even if it’s not always possible. Even if he seeks reassurances sometimes, too. And maybe that’s the prominent and sole reason why he never dismisses your disquiet.
Why push you away if you’re already at an impasse? Why not lead you out of the maze?
“Take it easy, okay?” he soothes, letting his grip around you fall bit by bit to search for your fingers instead. “Restraints can’t beat us.”
“Yeah! I’m hopeful.”
“You should be.” Because thinking of all you’ve fought within the span of a couple weeks… “You’re the first person to show me that there’s no reason to be scared, you know?”
“Then…” You sit up, curling your fingers around his hand, lifting it mid-air in sudden eagerness. “Just imagine how life could go, right? We could go to the ocean. Oh.” You gasp, sucking in air. “Oh my god! The Great Barrier Reef!”
“Ohhh, that’s actually a solid bucket list item. And then, bungee jumping?”
You nod zealously; lacking your fingers’ mobility required to list things, you instead knock your intertwined hands against your thigh each time to come up with something new. Like now, “Cliffs. And northern lights, too. I’ve always wanted to see them.”
Reflexively, you look up.
Stare at the glued-on stars from last night, and the now missing projection you dozed off to. An effective visual lullaby; you didn’t even stir when Jungkook turned it off, tucking you in properly. In your blanket; in him.
“Hell yes,” Jungkook confirms.
“But the first stop’s your hometown… and the wedding. I want to meet your family and be super awkward about it.”
Jungkook laughs, forehead falling forward against your head. He shakes it for a second, and then recalls, “Ah… so chickens and family awkwardness. What else?”
He didn’t expect this to work out before he asked you. Considering you’ve barely started at Novaura, he anticipated gentle rejection. But now that it’s become a certain event in the incredibly near future, his heart pounds every time you mention it.
Because…
You in a dress. You in his house. You, dominating over every single heart that’s dear to him.
And it seems you’ve already thoroughly thought about this, because your answer shoots out of you like a bullet, “Wanna dance with you. And kiss you under the lights.”
“Angel… you’re over the moon about this, aren’t you?”
“…Too obvious?”
You allow a fleeting glance back to him before your eyes fall down to his bare arm, ending in a hand clinging to yours; covered in ink, much like the rest of his right limb. He knows you’re staring at the flowers without asking.
And as if knowing, reading your soul, he doesn’t find himself surprised when you suggest, “And then… one day… What do you think? Should I get a tattoo someday, too?”
“Totally, if that’s what you want. What would you wanna get?”
“Flowers to match? I don’t know. Maybe you can draw on me. Here,” you lead his hand to your thigh, sticking there for a while until you move up to your hip. “Or here.”
He wonders how focused your thoughts are right now. Because if they are, and you’re not fixating on the changes of his skin, you probably won’t register the countless goosebumps under his tattoos.
A giddy sensation spreads throughout his body, collecting in his chest and tummy. Memories of a nearly bare body, painted in his dozen colours returning. And then, pictures of the same hues blurring, smudging.
He breathes an exhale, insane at the thought of kissing those lines. Of lips trailing up your skin, stopping at your hip, dying a pleasant death.
Fuck.
“I… I would. I’ll paint you any day.”
His words come out more airy than intended, fingers itching to pinch your chin, to move your face to his. To slide down the mattress, to kiss your lips swollen, making out with you until the sun sets…
But the world is cruel and too real; the clock still ticks until he realises that freezing in place isn’t an option right now. So he says, “As much as I hate to say this… You should get ready for work.”
You groan; there’s something sweet about your unwillingness to go. Relatable. And it sticks until the exhaustion washes away with each second. Small breakfast in, clothes on, newfound work spirit restored.
Must be a good day approaching.
And you’ve been enjoying the recent ones, he assumes. Despite being so good at what you do, there’s a clear difference in how you tackle a day at Charmante versus at Novaura.
And you confirm it when he accompanies you to the entrance, bidding you goodbye until you meet again later, “What I love most about Novaura is that they don’t feel the need to communicate everything with Mom. They’re their own independent world and trust themselves.”
“Right… You as someone equally independent will fit right in, so they’re lucky to have you there. Makes me wonder, though.” Jungkook pauses, watching you grab your jacket from the wall hook, “Are your Charmante people okay with you being at Novaura so much?”
A COUPLE DAYS LATER
“…I really don’t know if I can do this.”
Well, shit. Wasn’t he ready to strive for more, run endlessly until his feet tired? Where is the dread suddenly emerging from?
Jungkook has barely set his sketchbook down when lightning bolts head for him.
Countering his concern with kissing eyebrows, Namjoon’s full lips purse, dimples gone as he wonders, “What are you even talking about?” — Much at the same time as you utter a threatening, “Shut up,” pastry lifted, ready to throw at him.
Jungkook shies away from the table, ready to dodge your attack; returning when you place the crumbly croissant back on your plate. He presses his lips together before smacking and kissing them, finger rolling the pen over his sketches, but eyes fixated on Namjoon’s notebook.
“I’m serious. There’s so much to do until November, and I… how do I get so much done?”
“But,” Namjoon knocks against the random drawing open on the table, “you already have so much to show. And you can revamp stuff from college, too. Besides, it’s okay to try your best and be scared at the same time, Jungkook! That’s part of a growing artist’s job.”
“But, are you sure I’m a growing artist?!”
Namjoon mutters something under a breath, and you add something unintelligible to the reassuring mix. Jungkook’s worried gaze remains on the rough lines of pencil on paper, teeth repeatedly nibbling his lower lip. Baring his mole.
He closes the sketchbook, staring at the golden, imprinted letters on a dark black background. He’s filled a quarter of it already; the very piece you gifted him for his birthday almost a month ago.
In some way, opening to a blank page serves as inspiration alone. You furnished him with something so simple yet gorgeous; thoughtful engraving to use as a reminder to hold onto his efforts.
But…
Amidst the lasting zeal, he’s been racking his brain. Because. What if he immerses himself in this, spending hours tainting his fingertips in different tints — only to steer towards failure?
What if it doesn’t work out? And he ends up not amounting to much, other than trying his luck online and living on a bare minimum of a salary? Would he start tutoring young, aspiring artists?
And you…
You’re diving into a stable job, well-paid, well-known. If you end up carrying both of you on your shoulders… would you think of him as a washout? Grow frustrated and dissatisfied?
You’ve been repeatedly declaring your unswerving support, but what if you some day do realise that…
Ugh.
He stuck to this passion with the full knowledge he would never fall out of love with it; but now that he’s working for his dreams, the process seems so scary all of a sudden.
“And I’m at the wedding, too…” he says.
He leans back in his chair, moving his pupils away from the paper and instinctively up to you. More concerns threaten to tumble off the tip of his tongue, but when your eyes suddenly flicker with disappointment, his lips shut again.
You blink, unsure, before you ask, “Do you… not want to go? We could totally stay here if you need the time.”
Oh…
Hadn’t you gushed about the event day in, day out now, he would’ve maybe believed your words. And in some sense, you probably do think of the alternative as okay, as long as he profits from it.
But he sees it in your eyes. And not just in yours — he’s been as enthralled by the idea as you. Which is why…
“No,” he responds, “no. We will go.”
Because the prospect of winding down with you has been keeping him sane. Doting on you under the countryside stars, showing you all you haven’t seen before, body to body dancing with you…
He’s not missing out on that, no matter what.
And god knows you need the break, too… especially after the utter hysteria last Friday…
“Kook, think about it. You need to be absolutely sure,” you argue, genuine worry in your gaze; from his side eye, he sees Namjoon nod in confirmation.
“I am. We’ll go, baby, okay?”
You don’t avert your gaze; your mouth closes a little, but you stay unblinking, waiting for his mind to change. He knows because he sees the thoughts floating at the surface of your eyes.
Like you’re still pondering; of course you are. As someone who’s been working hard for their career, even if just for a few months, you’d know. Who’d understand if not you?
The trance lingers between the two of you, and Jungkook lifts his lips, a vow and certainty in his smile. Moment only broken when Namjoon clears his throat and encourages once more, “Give it a shot, Jungkook… Those high-profile people need to see what you’re capable of! I mean, we’re so lucky to have them coming to our exhibits.”
Namjoon gestures randomly, across the small restaurant as he says, “Say what you will about this city, but we lure in quite a few esteemed artists for sure.”
“Who says something about this city?” you ask.
“I do,” Namjoon’s voice is soothing. One thing Jungkook has learned about him is that his flowery mind never rests. Lyrical; not always easy to understand. “I love and hate it. Leaving it, living it.”
He pauses, sipping on his diet coke before smacking the taste away and ordering, “Ask me anytime if you need any help, alright? And be confident.”
“And… what if it does work?”
Your gentle laugh sounds from the opposite side of the table, the straw of your milkshake on your tongue. The rhythmic melody calms something deep in him; perhaps more because he understands your reaction.
You’re just as cute worrying about things that he knows you’d ace.
“Well,” Namjoon starts, aware that Jungkook knows; still annihilating his unease, “the guy is ready to buy your art. If it goes well, he’ll sponsor you. Then, at some point, you’ll be able to afford your own studio and grow as an artist. Ideally.”
“Ah… ah, really…”
”Kookie,” your voice calls; you lean over the round table, shoving the milkshake aside, “don’t worry. And in the most unlikely case that it doesn’t go as planned, know that I’ll cheer you on either way.”
“And me too,” Namjoon raises a hand.
Your finger swings to and fro between Namjoon and you, and your expression changes from empathic and soft to the sweetest, most gut-wrenching smile he’s ever seen. The apples of your cheeks lift, pupils sparkling when you vow, “We’re here for you.”
He…
He could look at you all day, blinking be damned. Could pour out his emotions every second of every minute of every hour, and it’d still not match the endless letter his heart keeps crafting for you.
Disregarding how much of a shipwreck the two of you were last Friday, his chest has still lightened ever since; an epiphany has never been sweeter.
Because…
The words he couldn’t compose into a poem before are now an ardent confession, with rhymes and a melody and infinite beauty. Roaming his mind nonstop, caught in that baby pink bubble.
When had his senses last heightened this much?
Because somehow, he still feels the damp trail of tears he cried that night. And the heart that beat against your cheek. You, frozen against him, processing his words.
If there are ways to make him fall in love harder, you’ve been presenting them all the goddamn time.
And fuck, it’s been hard focusing on anything but you.
Like, on paying. Or on upholding a conversation with Namjoon — assuring him he’d be back in the studio in a bit as he prepares to bid you goodbye for the day.
To his chagrin, the walk to your car isn’t long. It’s parked at a corner, convenient for lunch dates like these; you promised you’d join one with Joon at some point, and you did. Forty-five minutes passed too quickly. Felt like a moment.
“Namjoon is so nice!” you comment, hands in the pockets of your denim jacket.
You keep swaying back and forth, from your heels to your toes and back. Your smile and movements suggest a free spirit, but your risen shoulders and the shallow crease between your eyebrows drench you in something tense.
You’ve been like that since you suggested staying, focusing on his work.
“He’s so wise, too, really,” Jungkook responds, close to you in case your swinging moves leave you tumbling, “like, a cool mix between calm and dorky. I’ve been learning so much from him.”
“Jeon Jungkook and his love for his mentor. You will never stop talking about him.”
Jungkook shrugs, a hand to the nape of his neck, face warming, “He’s cool, what can I say?”
“Yeah.”
And once again… he sees you gulp. Unsure, pupils flickering. You usually don’t struggle maintaining eye contact. So he soon wonders, “Are you okay? I… I hope you didn’t misunderstand what I said earlier. I really do want to go to the wedding.”
“Hm?” you voice, chin lifting a bit before you dispute, “Oh. No, I believe you. If you say it’s okay, then that’s how it is.”
“What then?”
“What do you mean? Do I really seem like something’s up?”
“A little.”
“Uhm…”
You roll up your eyes as you dig into your thoughts. Scouring your brain for whatever might be meandering in the back of your mind. Hm… seems you’re not fully cognisant of the subtle change in your behaviour, either?
So maybe, it means nothing after all.
Then again. It must be something.
Because in hindsight, he didn’t only notice today, but all weekend, too—
Oh…
Maybe you’re just getting used to the new developments; maybe they’re just making you a bit bashful like him. Maybe…
Okay. Deep breath. He just needs to make it sound like a joke, nothing pushy or odd or awkward because—
“Or is it because I told you I love you? Have I scared you off already?”
He watches your breathing stop. As though flexing an x-ray stare, watching your lungs dry up, air stuck in your throat until it escapes through your nose. Honestly… he’s been feeling the same.
“No!” you answer, tone breathy, pulling a hand out of the pocket to sprightly push at his shoulder. He barely budges. “Of course not. All that does is make me want to faint.”
Jungkook chuckles, delighted when your laugh matches his own. He doesn’t always know how to take a compliment either; but you fix your speechlessness with that glow on your face. Fills his own body with fairy dust, too.
His dimples are valleys when your fingers move to his open jacket, grazing the zipper and filling the seconds with quiet tenderness. He doesn’t know what to say to you until you let the silence prolong and then giggle into it once more.
If he could just dive into your brain. But all he has are his own, messy thoughts.
And those tangled thoughts say—
“Angel… Can I kiss you?” Now his lungs are collapsing, too. Worse, so much worse when you look into his eyes, still so surprised at every sliver of affection he signs. “I really want to kiss you right now.”
No… he needs to. Needs to blossom in this breezy weather. But he won’t tell you that.
He’ll just keep looking at you. One second, two seconds — until you’ve raised your hands to the collar of his jacket to move him closer, soon sneaking your touch further up to his neck. A miniscule and wordless hint of approval, and he basks in it avidly.
Twitching palms hesitate for only the subtlest of moments before they’ve dashed up to your cheeks, cupping your face and leaning in and…
Lock.
A picture of a lock. And of its key.
The first thing to flash into his mind.
Because how do his lips fit so perfectly between yours? When you touch him like this, delicate fingers caressing his jaw, how do you feel so much like a feather? And the damn way you sigh into his mouth… how you reciprocate the kiss.
He will never tire of telling you, telling himself, that you match him just like the ocean complements the shore. And it’s baffling. How perfect this feels, and how right it feels.
You do make the ordinary extraordinary.
Like a kiss that is shared a million times a day, between so, so many people. But you’re moving your lips against his. Holding onto him, tilting your head, soaking in his warmth. Going tentatively, then a bit faster, then slow again.
For the merest moments when your mouths part, you gasp, inhaling before pushing your fingers into his hair, at the back of his head. Then back against him, seeking his tongue; such soft sounds meeting his that he swears he could cry.
Cry about the shiver down his spine and the flutter in the pit of his stomach. About the world becoming a backdrop to everything in the middle of the pavement; and about how his thoughts only revolve around your shared breaths and the feeling of your warm cheeks.
Just you.
You, you, you.
Still too far away. Why do you drive him so incredibly mad?
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
He loves you. He loves you.
Under a breath and against your soft pillows, he mutters your name; so airy that he barely recognises his voice. His tongue drags over your lower lip, pecking one more time before he establishes an intruding distance between you.
Your foreheads touch for a transient bit, thumb skimming your cheek. When he opens his eyes, yours are still shut, and you’re feeble in his grip. And then, he asks, “What’s wrong?”
You swallow again. Take a breath before admitting, “You’re right. There’s something I want to ask you, and I was so stupidly… nervous about it.”
“Yeah?”
“The whole gang, they… they’ve been planning something. They paid for it and all, but they’re waiting for me to give them an answer, so they know if I need to pay them back or if they should cancel or, or—”
He interrupts your ramble with a soft, “Tell me, babe.”
“Okay,” your eyelids finally open up; your gaze is so hazy when you look at him. “It’s a trip. Four days, three nights, during the wedding week.” He hasn’t said a word when you hurry to add, “But, we can leave earlier. It’s a road trip kinda thing to the mountains and the beach and. They want us there, too.”
”Oh.”
“…Yeah.”
“I… Baby.” He moves back, shaking his head. He was careful not to ruin your hair, well aware you have half a work day ahead of you; but he still brushes a strand back. “Were you and Eun talking about that two weeks ago?”
“Yeah. And Tae also said I should be the one to ask because you’d like that. But then things happened and all the stress and…”
“But… even before that. Why were you so nervous asking me about it for so long?”
“Because,” you answer, one shrug of your shoulders, “I wanted to wait and see how you feel about the exhibition and the workload. And you already have limited time because of the wedding and I didn’t want to take away more of it.”
He can’t help but beam; why does this feel… endearing? Mirrors his own thoughts when he asked you about accompanying him to the wedding.
“We really do have the same brain, don’t we?” he asks.
“You’d think we’d learn.”
You say it lightheartedly, yet gnaw on your lips. He tongues the inside of his cheek, keeping eye contact, and then queries, “There’s something else, right?”
“Ah, just.”
You look unsure, trying to make sense of your thoughts, but your uncertainty makes him uncertain, too. So he exhales before he prods, “What? What what? Is it something bad?”
“No! Just. They’ve been wanting to do this since the summer. They never talked about it to me because you and I were… you know.” You kiss your teeth, and he uses the second to whoosh away the aching memories. “But they never cancelled for us, either.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because they’d say, and I quote, ‘Just wait.’ They knew we couldn’t stay away from each other even before we did.” You laugh. “Eun told me that day in the kitchen.”
Even before you did?
Untrue. He knew he didn’t want to live without you the moment you left his apartment, tear-soaked and heartbroken.
“Okay…” he starts, “and you were worried because?”
“Because you always get so sad when I talk about the summer. Explaining the context of the trip seemed hard to me, and I didn’t want you to feel guilty.”
Oh…
Shit, man.
“You’re… ahhh… my sweet baby.” He wants to hug you to his chest and never let go. But you’re already running out of time, lunch break nearing its end, so he only grips your shoulders. “You know that it gets better after two minutes, no? Because whatever happened, I have you now.”
He flicks your chin as he has been lately; it cheers you up. Makes you smile a bit, conjures the pout away. Adding to the effect when he says, “Don’t worry so much, my love.”
Another inhale. Then, you admit, “I’m sorry. I dragged it out.”
“It’s okay.”
“So… would you come? Do you think you could take some time off work and all? I’d understand if it’s too much.”
“Hmm… Right before the wedding, isn’t it?”
“Mid-october, yes. We could leave earlier!” you reiterate, hellbent on assuring he’s not obligated to do anything. So sweet, how you scratch your head. “They’d drive on. It’s convenient because it’s all in the same week.”
“Mountains and beach, you say.”
“If you don’t like them, we can stay at the hotel and chill together.”
Shit.
His grin widens with each heartbeat; you notice, because despite your suggestions, you sound more lively now.
And yet, it’s funny you’d question all these things like this at all. Don’t you remember damp cheeks and gentle touches?
Just days ago.
How he was still trembling when you left Eun’s complex. How he stopped you before climbing into the car, much like now, mumbling a timid, “Angel…”
And then retracting when his heart combusted. Looking into your eyes, still red, his own mind filled with nervous fear before settling on, “Nothing. Let’s go home.”
Or how you cried in the living room. How you broke down, terrified he might walk away. How his breath quivered, how his head spun, how he felt like he might throw up or faint or scare you off.
The damn sickness in his stomach until he spat the hidden words for the first time. And the pounding of his heart when you responded with a mumbled, “Kook… How.”
And… how his chest constricted at everything that followed after that. Don’t you remember?
In spite of every indication he threw your way — you still worry so much.
Funny you’d be so nervous around someone who wants to see the entire world with your hand in his.
What did you call it again? Wanting to be brave.
So fucking easy with you.
“How about…” he begins, staring into anticipating eyes, hearing a storm of cheers rumble, “going shopping before we leave?”
Your demeanour changes momentarily. The unsure girl, afraid to hurt him, soon finds her way back to her foundation. You light up, a hand over your mouth; your cheeks must be hurting.
You deliver one, short jump and then pull him back in, kissing his lips once before scattering a couple more pecks next to them. He soon finds himself pushing you towards your car, forcing you back to work, but you have a thousand things to babble about.
He’s adoring all the bright stars in your eyes — now he understands how you feel when you see the same universe in his.
It’s crazy. How effort is never required from your side for him to feel that way. How you only need to breathe and talk and smile and stay.
Stay stay stay.
The word sails and wafts through his dazy thoughts like a silent prayer. Begging and begging; pleading to allow him to pour all his love on you, although he doesn’t need to ask. You always let him anyway.
And he guesses he’s using that permission thoroughly. Maybe that’s why keeps craving and burning for more; why he’s been holding you tighter these nights.
His tiger lily pressed against your heart.
*head in hands* they are so crazy for each other, pls 😭 warmth and reassurances and support and bickering literally build the foundation of their relationship and i love them sm :') for some reason the editing process knocked me out, but i still adore this one so so much, and i hope you guys did, too!! 🥺
feedback is always so so appreciated!! you guys are literally such a freaking supportive bunch and have kept this series alive for so long and i love you to death :( here's to the first one this year!! as always, please consider leaving a like, reblog (with or without feedback!), comments and spammm my inbox with everything that's on your mind hehe <3 any kind of msg makes my day!
and nowww!!!!! moving on to cmi: palette and VACAYYYY!!! mwah mwah 🤍
#jungkook smut#jungkook fluff#bts smut#bts fluff#jeongguk smut#jungkook x reader#jungkook x you#bts x you#bts imagines#jungkook fic#bts angst#jungkook angst#jungkook
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Aita for not taking down a jokey sign on my bathroom door when my parents came over?
Cw: talk of diarrhea. Not explicitly.
So I (21f)and 2 of my friends (20f,lets call her lilly and 23m, lets call him matt)moved into an apartment about 2 years ago and so far, everything has been good. We've been able to manage our bills, keep a clean home, I couldn't ask for better. We've known each other since middle school, there's ackward moments and small disagreements when Matt brings over his boyfriend (he almost always yells when he speaks and slams doors) but everything is generally all good.
Every apartment shared by more than one gen z is gonna have some quirks and ours is the "code brown" sign. Me and matt have IBS and occasionally have some mild to moderate.... Bowel problems and there's only one bathroom. Usually it's not a problem but there's been a few occasions where someone will be taking awhile scrolling tik Tok or whatever or taking a long shower and me or Matt have an issue.
Originally it was a group chat half joke warning that someone was having a "code brown" and no one could lolly gag in the restroom because one of us might be making trips. It became an inside joke and last year, lilly had a cheap small hanging sign made by some wood burner on Etsy that basically read on one side "All clear, private!" and on the other read "Code brown! Get going or get down!". It was hilarious and we hung it on the bathroom door and now use it unironically. All our friends enjoyed it, Matt's boyfriend loudly so but not so much my parents.
About a week ago, I finally allowed my parents to check out my place. They aren't super Christian like evangelicals but my dad has been going red pilled and more so by the day so I tried to make my apartment look less like it was shared by three liberals and wore something nice and cooked a nice dinner. I paid for lilly and matt to go catch a movie and some Wendy's on me so they'd be out of the house. All was good until my dad went to the bathroom and came back with the damn sign looking like his head was going to explode. He screamed at me that he thought I was an adult, that I was failing at getting my shit together (they don't pay for anything and i live on my own?) and I was a child for hanging up such a clearly inappropriate sign. My mom agreed, though much less Intensely and my dad proceeded to break the sign over his knee and chastise me for a good 20 minutes before grabbing his things, demanding an apology in a few days and leaving with my mom.
Once lilly and matt got home I apologized and offered to buy a new sign. Lilly and Matt were just happy nothing else was broken and I was ok. I did eventually apologize to my dad because I can see where a poop sign might be a little inappropriate for important company but tbh I forgot about it and I was so busy making dinner I didn't realize it was still up or I would of tossed it in my room and moved on. Lilly and Matt just say my dad has a stick up his ass and shouldn't of messed with the sign(it was flipped to the no code brown side so he had to flip it to see it).
Was i the asshole for not taking down a gag sign about poop when my parents came over?
What are these acronyms?
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How would you describe Tim's people skills? Especially when you compare them to Dick's?
Hi anon, this was a fun ask!! I picked out a few panels for each of them (comforting friends, a bit out of sync with friends, fighting with friends, and offering practical support to friends) just to get a quick look at their people skills in action, and then I rambled on about my thoughts on their strengths and their weaknesses.
(Caveat: I'm going to try to focus on my ideas about differences between the two of them, since we're comparing, but I do think they're socially more similar than not, so you might also want to check out @bitimdrake's post on Dick and Tim's similarities for the big picture!)
Short version: I think they've both got good people skills. Dick's are a bit better and more natural, whereas Tim's are more practiced and learned (in ways that sometimes show).
Let's start with Dick first, and then I'll get back to Tim.
Dick
Comforting friends in Titans Secret Files:
Dick: Will you go back in there and sit down? This is my house. You don't need to clean up after me!
Donna: I know, I just... I just ...
Dick: Hey, hey... what's the matter?
Donna: Nothing. It's nothing.
Dick (reaching out to supportively grip her shoulders): Donna, this is me here, remember?
A bit out of sync with friends (but still getting along well) in Titans 3:
Dick: The movie runs 98 minutes. So if we fast-forward past the coming attractions and watch only half the credits, I can still make it back to Blüdhaven in time to -
Roy: Nightwing, chill. Team morale demands that you relax and enjoy yourself.
Fighting with friends in Titans 13:
Dick: We haven't used it much, Changeling. But that's gonna be different. Starting right now. Our performance against Tartarus and the HIVE was unacceptable. Each and every one of you should thank God you weren't killed.
Kory: How dare you? How can you just stand there talking to us like we're a military detachment -
Giving support to relative strangers in Nightwing 87:
Neighbor 1: Oh, he - he's a true gentleman, you know? Always holds the door, or helps me up the stairs with my groceries if we both come in at the same time...
Neighbor 2: ...used his motorcycle to jumpstart my car one morning and even got my brother-in-law a job with Wayne Enterprises when he got laid off...
Neighbor 3: ...and he's very, very, very nice and doesn't talk down to me. Plus he lets me use his basketball.
Offering practical support (making dinner) in Prodigal:
Tim: I can't believe you can actually cook...
Dick: I like to eat.
Tim: So does Bruce - but he had to order Chinese last night.
Dick: That's where I'm one up on him - I've lived on my own without an Alfred. Still miss him, though... He was good for a lot more than cooking and cleaning.
Tim: Yeah. But at least we don't have to miss him on empty stomachs.
Strengths:
I think Dick's people skills are pretty simple: he has them! He's good at people! And I tend to think of Dick's people skills as so automatic they're mostly instinctive. It's not something he really has to think about because it's so ingrained in him. A combination of natural talent plus a childhood spent around sociable performers means Dick's just really highly attuned to the people around him.
And I don't think he's particularly obvious about it. So e.g. you could be having a conversation with Dick where he didn't seem like he was paying close attention, but if there was An Important Moment where you got anxious for a moment or let something important slip or let a bit of anger show through etc. - Dick will have picked up on it, even if it's unconsciously, and it'll stick with him and come back to him later.
And just generally - I think Dick has good instincts for who he can trust and who he shouldn't trust; when he's treading on conversational landmines he'll often pick up the unease even if he doesn't have the context to know why there's a problem; if he's trying to comfort and trusts his instincts he'll often do the right thing even if he can't justify in words why he felt like that was the right thing to do.
So I think for Dick, there's always the level of conscious awareness - the things he's aware he knows, if you will - and the level of unconscious awareness - things he senses, but maybe can't explain, or maybe doesn't want to know so he's suppressing the thoughts.
So he's good at leading, and he's good at comforting, and he's good at listening, and he's good at figuring out the right thing to say...
Like, he's good at all of it, so it's actually sort of difficult to elaborate because there's just not that much nuance? Given any particular interpersonal situation, Dick has an excellent chance of getting a quick read on some random guy he's just met and then getting the reaction he wants pretty fast, whether it's intimidating the guy or comforting him or getting him to cooperate or taunting him until he loses his temper, etc etc etc.
Obviously Dick's not a mind reader, and he can get things wrong, especially when he's in the throes of one of his own personal crises, but generally I think Dick's very very sure-footed with people, even with strangers.
Weaknesses:
This isn't a weakness precisely because Dick's usually doing it on purpose, but he'll sometimes have fights with his friends because they think he's acting overly professional/detached and he thinks they're not being professional enough. So e.g. in Titans 13, you can see Dick's set up the room almost like he's leading a business meeting, and he's the boss lecturing them, and they're reacting by getting mad at him. Part of this is basically a Traditional Bat Problem - Tim's friends also balk because they feel like Tim's keeping them at a distance - but Dick tends to lean especially hard on "I'm The Leader Here So Shut Up And Do What I Say" professionalism / distancing.
When things are going well, Dick's friends may grumble at his intense professionalism but basically appreciate it (this is basically how things go in their reunion in TT vol 2); when things are not going well, though, it becomes a point of tension. Generally, Dick gets extra-professional as a coping mechanism when under stress, as here in TT vol 2 12:
To the extent that Dick falters with social skills, it tends to be almost exclusively with people he knows well, not with strangers. Dick sometimes struggles with maintaining relationships, largely because he's often juggling multiple responsibilities; he'll sometimes get hyperfixated on something and deprioritize his more stable relationships (so e.g. when he gets fixated on trying to fix Blüdhaven and gets distracted from his relationship with Babs).
Somewhat relatedly, if things start going wrong in his own life, he tends to self-isolate out of shame and avoid everyone he thinks of as more put-together. So, for example, in the aftermath of Blockbuster, he's a self-destructive mess who's trying to dodge and/or drive away Clark and Roy and Tim (all people who care about him and would want to help), but Sophia Tevis and Rose are two messed-up young strangers in trouble and their obvious neediness trips his "urgency" meter, plus he may be a mess but they have no context to realize that so he doesn't feel so self-conscious, and he's able to be drive-by super-helpful to them and then dive right back into privately self-destructing.
Also not a weakness per se, but he tends to be a bit of an introvert in general - he and Wally are close, but they go long stretches of time without catching up; when he's spending time with friends, usually it's Donna / Wally / the Titans / Tim visiting Dick rather than the other way around; he's more likely to get cajoled into joining a team than the other way round - Wally talks him into rejoining the Titans and Roy talks him into joining the Outsiders. He likes people and likes spending time with friends, but he's usually not the one initiating a social gathering. He's self-aware about this; in Titans 9, he muses, "It's not the newness that's the problem. The problem is the old stuff. The ruts. You know someone long enough - well enough - and you fall into a rut with them... you completely take the relationship for granted..."
Relatedly, because Dick's pretty self-contained, he has a recurring problem where loved ones interpret him as distant or detached or indifferent even when he's still passionately attached - both Kory and Babs break up with Dick in part because they feel like he's not really that committed to them (also there are mmm Problematic Plotlines involved but I'm ignoring those for the purposes of this post), and in both cases IMO they're misreading him. He's deeply upset by both breakups and responds with big declarations of feeling and, uh, proposing marriage shortly afterward. (Okay, so he's not ALWAYS sure-footed sdfdsfs)
When Dick's getting something wrong, it's usually because he's upset and overcompensating - when things with Kory and Babs are tense, he tries to fix it with Big Gestures; when Vic's mad at him about spying, he missteps with an elaborate secret plan culminating in a big dramatic offering of a new body which Vic does want... but he's still understandably miffed at Dick for making a bunch of decisions behind his back instead of talking to him. Dick guesses right about something Vic will want, but because Dick when he's feeling guilty tends to slide into I-Am-The-Leader, I-Must-Fix-Everything-By-Myself, I-Am-Responsible-For-Everything mode, he forgets that the whole original problem is connected to not respecting Vic's autonomy / right to make decisions for himself, and that a better gesture would be asking Vic what he wants instead of once again making decisions on his behalf without consulting him. (I'm sympathetic to Dick's spying-on-Vic plan on account of how Vic did turn into an evil moon for a bit - comics are bonkers, you guys sdfdsfs - but I'm also very sympathetic to Vic feeling that he deserved fuller disclosure here.)
And you can see similar patterns in lower-key conflicts too: every time Dick gets accused of being just like Batman, it's usually because he's coming off as harsh or detached or uncaring (sometimes on purpose because he's pushing people away; sometimes just because Dick handles grief and fear by shutting down; sometimes because his the-buck-stops-here leadership style can come off as overly-detached), even though Dick actually cares SO SO MUCH, all the time, about everyone he knows.
But honestly... these weaknesses exist, but they're minor in comparison to his strengths?? Dick's a guy with a lot of very strong friendships for a reason. He's true as steel and once he cares about you, he cares about you forever. <3
OKAY! So that's Dick. Let's finally move on to...
Tim
Comforting friends in Joker's Last Laugh 3:
Tim: Babs? Is everything okay? (hugs her)
A bit out-of-sync with friends (but still getting along well) in Young Justice 7:
Cassie: A campout isn't a campout without a real fire. It's no fun at all.
Tim: But the generator is far more efficient, Cassie. It's non-polluting, it poses no threat of forest fire, and it's... it's ... (taking in everybody else's expressions, sighing, reversing course) It's no fun at all. Impulse, can you...?
Fighting with friends in Adventure Comics 3 (stonewalling, avoidance, and lying!)
Conner: You weren't picking up.
Tim: I didn't know it was you.
Conner: I turned off my caller ID blocking.
Tim: I was busy. I am busy.
Conner: Too busy to talk to your best friend?
Tim: Yes. No.
Giving emotional support to relative strangers in Robin 98 / 100 / 156:
Wesley: I just wanted to thank you. They tell us at the meetings that it's important to let people know how you feel. You did a lot for me - making me sober up. If you hadn't taken the time to notice - (Later)
Tim: You're gonna stay strong, right? (Wesley: Right.)
Tim: You're gonna stay sober, okay? (Wesley: Okay.)
Tim: You're gonna do it 'cause -
Wesley: 'Cause if I don't you'll come back and kick my butt all over campus. Tim: Uh huh.
(The redhaired guy was about to jump. Tim convinces him to sit down and talk first.)
Tim: So, you're in college?
Guy: Yeah, I'm a freshman. How'd you know?
Tim: Just a hunch. I'm guessing you don't like it much.
Guy: I always hated high school. Always felt like I was outside looking in, never part of any group or anything. I was on the diving team but even then I didn't feel like part of it. The only good thing was that was where I met Lori, my girlfriend.
Offering practical support (medical care and tea) in Batgirl 59:
Tim (treating her injury as she shares her traumatic past): Whoa. That's ... horrible.
Cass: That's nothing. Stephanie and I used to laugh about - oh... uh... never mind. Wait, Tim. I... I'm so ... stupid, I don't -
Tim: You're not stupid. Want some tea?
Cass: I ... uh... yeah. Thank you.
Strengths:
Tim! I think Tim's also pretty decent at people - not as good as Dick, but hardly anyone is?
I tend to think of Dick as instinctively good at people, and Tim as more consciously good at people.
Tim spends a lot of time being intentionally watchful: observing, spying, psychoanalyzing people, paying careful attention to what they say, thinking about what makes them tick. (And Tim psychoanalyzes himself, too. Tim is studiously engaged in the study of Tim, and of Tim's friends, and of Tim's family. He's often playing a role, even when that role is "Tim Drake.")
So e.g. in Red Robin, at one point Tim has an elaborate domino-falling database where he's compiled a list of villains he wants to fight and how he wants to fight them, all leading up to a very careful takedown plan for Boomerang where he's thought through and anticipated Boomerang's every move ahead of time... and he's basically right! He gets it all right!
And this kind of intensely-studied logical chess-game of "he will do this for this reason, and then this for that reason, and the other people will respond in this way, like a series of dominos, and I've thought through all the possibilities" is Very Tim to me, and I feel like... this is just the sort of thing that Dick would never ever do?
And mostly Dick wouldn't do it because he wouldn't have to. When Dick's skeptical of James Gordon Jr., he goes to talk to the guy and feel him out, and he ethically feels obliged to give him the benefit of the doubt because there's no evidence against him, but he's got a bad feeling and doesn't trust him and secretly slaps a tracer on him because he's got an instinct he'll want it, and he's right: James Jr. is up to something, and that tracer is exactly the thing that Dick needs.
And similarly if Dick wanted to goad James Jr. into doing something, I think he'd go off and meet him and goad him into doing it, and he'd have an instinct for what to say to make that happen - I think the whole elaborate domino plan that Tim comes up with for Boomerang would feel unnecessarily complex to Dick. Not that Dick doesn't make complicated plans, because he absolutely does, but Dick doesn't usually overthink people.
Similarly, if Dick had been the little kid in Lonely Place of Dying, he'd have gotten worried and gone straight to Bruce and talked to him, not gotten worried and taken photos of Bruce from a distance and then come up with an elaborately overthought plan to go to New York and track down his estranged son and fix him that way. And, like. Kid!Tim's not entirely wrong! He's correctly picked up on a very real and very strong connection between Bruce and Dick even though he doesn't know either of them! And given how little actual information Tim has, this is actually an impressive plan (it's a bad plan, because Tim doesn't know about their fights, but it's an impressively solid plan given that his entire information basis is "watched them from a distance and collected news reports"). But this isn't how Dick thinks about people.
Backing up to a more general point: Tim values people skills really really really highly. I think "uses interpersonal skills to help and comfort other people" is one of Tim's highest values and arguably the highest value - he imprinted on Dick because he was kind, and then imprinted on Batman because he was comforting Dick. And he has six million After-School-Special-style plotlines where he tries to comfort / advise / rescue / etc. people in various stages of emotional distress and who are using bad coping mechanisms. His very first outing as Robin involves talking down a semi-suicidal shooter; the big finale of YJ has Tim talking Secret down from her rampage; he's very gentle when he's comforting his girlfriend after she confides in him about a maybe-attempted-rape; he talks down a suicidal college student in Robin; plus there's the entire concept of "Batman needs Robin" in the first place; not to mention his obsession with the importance of friends; and so forth.
So it's something that he's good at because it's something he values and works at. His people skills are conscious and learned. He does a fair bit of amateur psychoanalysis of other people's problems, and he's generally good at identifying the problems, even if he's not always great at fixing them. And he's often playing a role, or imitating other people, rather than being himself; he invests a lot of time constructing alternate identities; he's often more comfortable wearing a mask. (It is just so typical of Tim that his civilian friendship group is the DCU version of D&D players.)
So his practiced-people-skills work decently well, because he's diligent and he cares a lot, and he's better at people when he's older than when he's younger. And he's extremely good at things he's had a lot of practice with, like meeting new schoolmates, or making small talk, and he's friendly and he likes people, and he's good at learning scripts and following them, and he only tends to misstep when he's distracted or unusually anxious or when he's in a situation where normal social norms don't help. (Of course, since he's a vigilante and not an ordinary person, distracted / unusually anxious / weird situation are all things that happen more often than you might think!)
I also think Tim has a few caretaker instincts that have become automatic - generally he's hyperaware of when people are upset and usually tries to reach out or fix it, and even when he's trying to keep himself at a distance he'll slide into caretaking sometimes - so e.g. there's that moment in Batgirl with Cass when Tim's kinda upset with her for siding with Batman (and distancing himself from other people in general), so he's not intending to get close to her, but also what we see him doing is treating her wounds and then getting her tea. And meanwhile Cass actually wants to reach out, and she's intensely observing him and worrying and wanting to help, but what she actually does is... drink the tea. That Tim got her. While she stays firmly on her side of the couch.
(I tend to think of Cass as slightly similar to Tim but at the very very very beginning of her learn-to-people journey here? Like Tim, she cares!! A lot!! And she's successfully understood that Tim's upset, and she knows when she's put her foot in her mouth. But she's not sure what to do yet.)
Weaknesses:
Tactless! This is a tricky word because I think people sometimes hear 'tactless' and misunderstand it as 'generically rude,' but that's not quite the issue - Tim's quite polite most of the time; his problem is that his default mental monologue is very detached / psychoanalyzing / analytical, including about himself and things he's emotional about. He'll often be analyzing his own emotions even in the process of having them (I also talk about this a little here, though it's mostly a post about Dick and anger), and Tim's also constantly analyzing other people.
This means that if he doesn't edit his brain-to-mouth filter, he can come off as too detached or professional or calculating.
This is obviously similar to Dick's problem of coming off as too detached / professional - again, they're both Bats - but it's not quite the same thing, and I think this distinction is most obvious if you look at the places where they're doing it on purpose and picking fights:
Dick's most likely to pick fights by pulling rank: "I'm the boss, you all fucked up this mission and you better not do it again, shape up or shut up." This is a kind of distancing that's about Dick-the-impassive-boss and you-the-subordinate.
By contrast, Tim's more likely to pick fights via hostile psychoanalysis: "I notice you're being snide about Cass again, but we both know you're actually just mad that Bruce cares about her more than he cares about you." When he's miffed, both his inner monologue and the things he says tend toward 'uncharitable analysis of your emotional weaknesses,' and this is something he periodically directs at Bruce / Jason / Damian. This is a kind of distancing that's about Tim-the-hostile-analyst and you-the-unfortunate-target-of-analysis.
(Caveats: I don't think Tim's above trying to pull rank if he can, but he rarely has the opportunity; Dick's not above jabs at other people's weaknesses when he's very defensive and feeling attacked - junkie, elevator - but IMO he's more likely to pull rank, whereas Tim's jabs are more likely to be wrapped up in insulting psychoanalysis, so e.g. Jason's insecurity is his problem. The Jan Brady of the Batfamily.)
You can see related similar-sounding-but-different issues if you look at some of their respective breakups. So e.g. Dick has a breakup with Babs in which she thinks he doesn't care about her, and Tim has a breakup with Cassie in which she thinks he doesn't care about her. And these breakups are different for six million reasons (among other things, Dick and Babs have a pretty intense romance, whereas, uh, Tim and Cassie have had one date and IMO she's very right that they're better off as friends).
But you also get some useful character notes:
Babs is wrongly anxious that Dick's mostly in love with nostalgia for their past rather than the person she is now (he 100% does love the person she is now!) and she's being unfairly bitchy about Catalina, but she's also correctly noted that he's gotten into the habit of deprioritizing their relationship in favor of vigilante busywork & that he's been a bit pushy in swooping in protectively rather than letting her fight her own battles, so when she's accusing him of being a control freak it's not completely coming from thin air; Dick responds by getting hurt, upset, and direct (he gets furious and punches something, but then makes a big sweet sincere emotional speech to her about how much he cares and values her, albeit one that's so caught up in his own emotions like wanting to "protect" her that he's not slowing down enough to take in her insecurities).
Cassie has correctly realized that dating Tim is a bad coping mechanism and she really needs to just deal with her grief over Conner; when she starts crying, at first Tim moves to comfort her, but when she actually clarifies the breakup, an upset Tim responds by aggressively de-emotionalizing the conversation and pretending he's being totally logical and not emotional about it - he first wonders aloud if he's a bad detective for not seeing it coming and then attempts a bonkers guilt-trip suggestion that it's their duty to date in order to uhhh avoid turning evil in the bad future (sdfsfdsfdsfds sure tim nice try)
This isn't because Tim literally doesn't have feelings, because of course he does! But often, the more upset he is, the worse he gets at clearly expressing those feelings, and the more he intellectualizes them or avoids discussing them.
(Caveat: The trouble with any distinction is that it's easy to exaggerate it in ways that are oversimplified, and I want to emphasize that this doesn't reduce to "Dick always expresses emotions, Tim is never emotional," or anything like that. Dick has a bunch of complicated feelings about the intensity of his emotions because he values control and detachment and often is trying to be more detached (I talk more about this in the context of anger here and here); Tim often retreats to faux-analytical detachment when he's actually very emotional; and these are tendencies rather than one-note 24/7 truths - Dick is completely capable of intellectualizing away his emotions; Tim is completely capable of just getting straightforwardly and directly upset. But if you're looking for broad distinctions, I think it's fair to say that Dick's usually better at directly using his words and expressing his emotions, even if he sometimes feels self-conscious shame about it later, whereas Tim tends to self-sabotage and deflect and hide by producing intellectualized faux-logic instead of just being direct about what he wants or what he's feeling.)
An unrelated issue is that Tim also tends to get intrusive when he's anxious, and it gets worse the more he cares about you. Tim really really really wants to know what's going on and has an intense Need To Help, which generally works out for him - this is the entire reason he pushes his way into the Batfamily! - but it's easy to imagine Tim running into people who might not appreciate his busybody sneakiness; so e.g. secretly stalking your friend because he has a bruise, or running your friend's DNA, etc., is... stuff that all comes from how much Tim cares, but also it involves a very fuzzy relationship with other people's privacy, so Tim's friendships that stick around tend to be with people who find this kind of intense observation to be caring rather than pushy. Relatedly, Tim's version of "be protective" can overlap with "be condescending," which means he tends to get along best with confident people like Bruce, who could punt him into a wall and who thus finds Tim's 'disapproving medic' shtick endearing instead of insulting.
Tim also struggles to connect to people for whom he doesn't have an obvious "script" or who don't respond to his usual scripts. So e.g. offering Gar a "you don't like me but let's be friends" handshake worked; offering Cass a "let's be friends" handshake worked; offering the same thing to Damian did not go over so well; and I think this kind of "it usually works so this is my habit now?" thing is very Tim, and I don't think it's the sort of mistake that Dick would make.
More broadly, because Tim's people skills are conscious and learned - the effort sometimes shows! He stares at people. He secretly spies on them. He pokes around in their secrets. Dick can be paying close attention to you and seem like he's not, so that his awareness seems effortless and less intrusive. I think Tim's awareness tends to be a bit more effortful.
That said, though, I don't think that Tim's intensely-observing-you shtick is necessarily obvious except to people who are fairly socially-skilled themselves. When I write fanfic, I generally write from Dick's POV, and I tend to write Dick being hyperaware of when, say, Tim's observing him, or trying to figure out what's going on with him. But I think of that as more "Dick's good at reading Tim and really aware of being watched, so every attempt at subtlety stands out in neon lighting," and I think to someone who's less good at reading people than Dick is, Tim is a lot subtler.
And I think for e.g. someone like Cass, who really struggles with people skills, Tim seems impossibly and naturally good at interactions in the same way that to Tim, Dick seems incredibly good at it.
#ask tag#dick grayson#tim drake#hi anon this is SO OLD i'm so sorry sdfdsfds#i am very slow & this is very long because i kept adding things to it but this was a very fun ask thank you <3
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WAKING UP NEXT TO THEM / EN-
synopsis: spending the night at their place for the first time and waking up next to them for the first time.
HEESEUNG 이희승 ~
you are definitely waking up before him.
because the night before, you guys played video games till 3 in the morning.
so, you just lay there and appreciate your bambi boy.
You slowly open your eyes, the soft morning light filtering through the curtains. As you regain consciousness, you find yourself lying in an unfamiliar bed. The memories from the night before start to flood back – the laughter, the video games, and the undeniable connection with Heeseung.
Careful not to disturb him, you turn your head to find Heeseung peacefully sleeping beside you. His tousled hair falls gently over his forehead, and a serene expression graces his face. The room is quiet, save for the soft hum of the city outside.
As you lie there, you take a moment to appreciate the details – the rise and fall of his chest with each peaceful breath, the warmth radiating from his body. The room is filled with a comforting stillness, a stark contrast to the lively gaming session just hours ago.
After a while, you notice a subtle movement from Heeseung. His eyes flutter open, adjusting to the morning light. He blinks a few times, and when he finally focuses on you, a soft smile graces his lips. "Morning." As you lie there, you can't help but feel grateful for the simple joy of waking up next to someone who makes your heart race.
JAY 박종성 ~
you already know, this man will wake up early and cook for you
BREAKFAST IN BED FOR YOU QUEEN!
he'll kiss your face to wake you up
You're still lost in the land of dreams, the warmth of the blankets cocooning you in comfort. The gentle morning light seeps through the curtains, signaling the start of a new day. Unbeknownst to you, Jay is already up and about, quietly preparing a surprise for you.
"Wake up, baby" He sets the tray down on the bedside table, and you're greeted by the sight of a carefully arranged breakfast in bed. There's a stack of pancakes drizzled with syrup, a bowl of fresh fruit, and a steaming cup of your favorite coffee. It's a feast fit for royalty.
"What's all this?" "Breakfast for the most amazing person I know. I thought you deserved a little pampering today."
He leans down, placing a sweet kiss on your forehead. The gesture is filled with warmth and affection, making your heart flutter.
You sit up, still in awe of the thoughtful surprise before you. As you enjoy the delicious breakfast Jay prepared, he sits beside you, stealing glances to gauge your reaction. "This is incredible, Jay. Thank you."
"Anything for you, love"
JAKE 심재윤 ~
both of you would be waken up by layla
teeth rotting sweetness from the moment your eyes meet jake.
he won't let you get up, just continues to cuddle you despite layla's barks
The sun has just begun to cast its gentle morning glow through the curtains as you find yourself slowly waking up beside Jake. The room is filled with a comforting warmth, and Jake's arms are wrapped around you, creating a cocoon of security. Everything is calm until the sound of excited barking breaks the peaceful silence.
Layla, the energetic ball of fur, has decided that morning cuddles are overrated, and it's time for some play. Her energetic barks echo through the room, threatening to shatter the tranquility of the moment.
"Looks like someone's ready to start the day." Despite Jake's attempts to keep you wrapped in his embrace, Layla's enthusiasm is infectious, and she insists on being the alarm clock for the day.
Layla's barks escalate, and it becomes clear that she won't take no for an answer. Jake chuckles and releases you from his grasp, sitting up with a playful glint in his eyes. "I think Layla wants us up, love."
"She's persistent, isn't she?" Jake nods, and you both share a laugh as you get out of bed. Layla, unable to contain her excitement, starts hopping around, tail wagging furiously.
"Alright, let's see what our little troublemaker wants."
As you follow Jake and Layla to the living room, you find yourself enveloped in the morning routine that involves playful banter, belly rubs, and the infectious joy that only a dog can bring. Jake pulls you into another warm embrace, Layla contentedly lounging nearby. Despite the playful chaos, the morning feels perfect – a blend of canine energy and the tooth-rotting sweetness of Jake's affection. As you share a quiet moment, Layla sprawls out between you, seemingly satisfied that her mission to start the day with joy has been accomplished.
SUNGHOON 박성훈 ~
he'll feel the sun on his face and wake up before you
stares and admires your beauty (cause you're a stunner babe)
fell in love with you for the nth time
The soft rays of the morning sun gently filter through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the room. Sunghoon stirs, his senses gradually awakening as he becomes aware of the sunlight kissing his face. With a contented sigh, he opens his eyes, and the first sight that greets him is you, peacefully sleeping beside him.
You're bathed in the soft morning light, your features softened by sleep. Sunghoon can't help but marvel at your beauty, even in the simplicity of this moment. He takes a moment to simply admire you, the way your eyelashes cast delicate shadows on your cheeks and how a faint smile graces your lips.
Sunghoon can feel his heart swell with affection as he watches you, a warmth spreading through him. The sun seems to accentuate the radiance that surrounds you, making you appear ethereal in the morning light. He brushes a strand of hair away from your face, his touch light and gentle so as not to disturb your peaceful slumber.
"How did I get so lucky?"
He leans down and places a soft kiss on your forehead, savoring the sweetness of the moment. Sunghoon takes a mental snapshot, wanting to remember this instance – the quiet morning, the warmth of the sun, and the overwhelming love he feels for you.
SUNOO 김선우 ~
you two are in synced, the same person
you wake up at the same time and admire each other
later, you both do each others' skincare routine.
The morning sun casts a soft glow into the room, and as your eyes flutter open, you realize that Sunoo is already awake, his gaze fixed on you with a fond smile. There's a moment of quiet understanding as you both share the same thought – the joy of waking up together.
"Good morning, Sunoo."
"Good morning, my other half."
You exchange a loving look, feeling a connection that goes beyond words. It's as if you share the same heartbeat, synchronized in the rhythm of the morning. With a playful twinkle in his eyes, Sunoo leans in to press a gentle kiss to your cheek.
As the morning routine begins, you decide to do something fun – a joint skincare session. Sunoo grins, always up for a bit of banter.
"Are you ready for the ultimate couple skincare routine?"
"Absolutely. We'll be glowing by the end of this." You gather an array of skincare products, and with playful banter and laughter, you take turns applying masks and serums. Sunoo can't resist making funny faces as you carefully spread a mask across his face, eliciting laughter from both of you.
"I can't believe I'm letting you do this to me." The banter continues as you exchange beauty tips and secrets, each step of the routine turning into a shared experience. Sunoo even attempts to mimic your skincare routine with exaggerated gestures, causing both of you to burst into fits of laughter.
JUNGWON 양정원 ~
you need the bathroom? too bad, he's not letting you leave the bed
wants to stay in bed the whole day
loving the new experience of waking up next to you
The soft morning light spills into the room, casting a warm glow over the two of you. As you start to stir, Jungwon tightens his grip around you, refusing to let you slip away from the cocoon of blankets and warmth that surrounds you both.
"Jungwon, I need to use the bathroom." Jungwon, with a playful smirk, pulls you closer, his arms securing you against his chest.
"Nope. We're not leaving this bed today." You chuckle, feeling the irresistible pull to stay right where you are – wrapped in his embrace. "But nature calls, Jungwon."
"Nature can wait. Right now, all I want is to stay in bed with you." He nuzzles into the crook of your neck, showering you with affectionate kisses. A mischievous glint in his eyes tells you that he's not going to let you go easily. "What if I promise to come right back?"
Jungwon tightens his hold, his warmth and laughter filling the room. "You're not escaping that easily. Today is a bed day, and I plan to enjoy every moment of it."
You can't help but surrender to the idea. After all, who could resist a day of relaxation with Jungwon? As you settle back into the pillows, Jungwon peppers your face with sweet kisses, reveling in the newfound joy of waking up next to you.
NI-KI 西村 力 ~
as much as he is a prankster, he'll respect your sleep
he'll bask in the moments and pull you closer to him
and you'll be enjoying the romantic side of ni-ki
Ni-ki, despite his mischievous nature, decides to play the role of a silent observer this morning. He refrains from any playful antics that might disturb your sleep, opting instead to bask in the quiet joy of waking up next to you.
As you open your eyes, Ni-ki pulls you closer, his arm wrapped around you in a protective embrace. There's a tenderness in his touch, a departure from his usual playful demeanor. He leans in, pressing a gentle kiss on your forehead.
"Morning, sleepyhead." You smile, still feeling the warmth of sleep clinging to you.
"Morning, Ni-ki. What's got into you today?" Ni-ki grins, a mischievous glint returning to his eyes. "Just enjoying the view. You're not bad to wake up to, you know."
You playfully roll your eyes, appreciating the unexpected romantic side of Ni-ki. As the morning progresses, Ni-ki remains by your side, savoring the quiet moments of connection. He pulls you into a sitting position, his gaze fixed on yours. "I was thinking, we could just stay here, enjoy the morning together."
You can't help but be drawn into the romantic atmosphere that Ni-ki has unexpectedly created. You nod in agreement, both of you reveling in the simple pleasure of shared silence.
#enhypen#enhypen imagines#enhypen au#engene#enha#enhypen x reader#heeseung#jay#jongseong#jake#jaeyun#sunghoon'sunoo#jungwon#ni-ki
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Baby Mama (OPLA HEADCANNONS)
In honor of mothers day, here some little headcannons I cooked up for our faves! Hope yall enjoy lol
Luffy
-This mf was like...actually capable of conceiving a child lmao.
-There was really no like initial shock, it was more like overwhelming joy? There was honestly no need to reveal it to the rest of the crew since the second you told him he shouted it loud ad fucing possible.
-"Luffy, uhhh I think im pregnant." You huff, hand over your forehead as you try to figure out the next course of action.
"YOURE PREGNANT?! THATS GREAT!"
"Y/N IS WHAT?" Nami gasps, eyes flitting form you to Luffy, then to your belly.
"YOU’RE PREGNANT?! HOW?" Usopp questions, only to have Sanji interrupt,
"Well Usopp, when two people love eachother- or well... lets talk about he birds and the bee-"
"I KNOW HOW THAT WORKS DICKHEAD-"
-Luffy is a.....he's a great dad, just a little uhhhh...wild?
-You have to explain tho him that this baby cannot fucking eat solid food.
-He's learning and that’s all that matters. He knows when to get serious about his kid and when its okay to be a lil silly.
-Oh and be prepared for when your kid hits about 6-7 cause they're so much like their father its crazy-
Zoro
-He's thuroughly convinced its your fault because he knows for a fact he has impeccable pull out.
-"That’s not mine." He hums, pointing at the newborn with a raise brow.
The fucking liar this baby is his spitting image. Like your genes didn't evens stand a chance. The baby even fucking mean mugs like he does, that lil stoic face.
-"This isn’t yours?" You question, holding the baby up side by side with his obvious father.
"Nope"
-Once he’s like fully processed and accepted the fact that your pussy just so happened to weaken his pull out game, he will claim the child and make sure he's being helpful with both you and the infant.
-It was actually pretty fucking hilarious to see the baby try and latch to his nipple cause his tits are fucking massive. Heeee didn’t think it was that funny tho💀
-Just let the kid grow up a little bit and they’re all about their father, and even though he may not show it all the time, he adores his baby. And they will always be a baby in his eyes. And he things you’re a phenomenal mother even though it was sort of a surprise.
Nami
-You had come aboaded with a toddler. And sure enough they latched to Nami in a heartbeat.
-“AHT! No, you stay with me and let them work.” You reprimand, giving a quick apology to the tangarine haired girl.
“Oh no they’re okay. Hey, you wanna see something cool?” He hum, taking the 2 year old by the hand before you can protest.
-Auntie Nami accidentally turned to ‘mamami’ (Mama Nami) andddd it just stuck.
-one night the three of you had fall asleep in Nami’squarter and she had woke up and just, admires you both. She couldn’t help the way her chest squeezed when she thought about raising this child with you or how much she loved being a part of your lives.
Your eyes flutter open and you give her a knowing look, her face already tinted pink.
“Nami,” you begin, your free hand pushing hair behind her ear as she hold your wrist, placing a kiss there.
“Thank you, love you.” You hum, letting yourself fall back asleep.
-yeah she’s stuck with you two for life
-unironically calls you her baby mama
Usopp
-is literally the best fuckinf dad. Literally ever.
-he wants to make sure he’s an active part of your child’s life, being sure to keep you both in good health and high spirits.
-when you broke the news he was terrified. How good of a father could he be? He just don’t want to let you down.
-“W-What if our kid hates me?” He voices one night, hands holding your tummy.
“I doubt that’ll happen. You’ll be okay Uso.”
-Guess having impeccable aim runs in the family because by time your child is year they’re already throwing projectiles with phenomenal accuracy.
-you can’t tell me he doesn’t make most of your babies toys.
-he loves seeing you just have little moments with your baby, he definetly cried when they took their first steps.
-keeps a picture of the three of you tucked away
-hints at wanting another one from time to time
Sanji
-fainted when you told him.
-honestly he’s a little shocked. He didn’t really put ‘father’ on his goal list but here yall are lol
-he’s very supported and knows that morning sickness is a bitchhhh
-“how’re my girls…or boy” he greets, pressing a kiss to your tummy then to your lips.
-much to his surprise, he was right on both parts because you’re having twins! Yayyyyy
-you cuss him out when your in labor.
-“SANJI YOU ASSHOLE! YOU DID THIS TO ME! WHY DID I FALL FOR YOUR DELICIOUS FOOD YOU FUCK!”
-he’s not allowed in the delivery room lmao he fainted again when the nurse asked if he’d like to see what was goin on
-after 6 horrendous hours, your baby boy and girl are finally born and he’s too delighted.
-“good job baby.” He praises, peppering your tired face with kisses.
-when the kids are older he’s always falling victim to their puppy eyes and begging when they ask for dessert before dinner
-“please dad! We won’t tell mom! Pleaseeee!”
-he loves being with you and loves that he’s been blasted with a wonderful wife and two beautiful children
Shanks
-oh the minute he found out he was stunned! He was sure he already had an illegitimate baby somewhere but for one of the baby mamas to actually let him know was, a bit of a surprised?
-and that’s it. He doesn’t really go out of his way to go visit and see if it’s true. He goes on about his business truely.
-one day, he comes across a lady at a bar, her bright red hair thrown up and she waits tables, her gaze almost immediately locking on his as she frowns
-….what the fuck she looks just like him.
-she goes to a couple other of the waiters/waitresses and the minute they catch his gaze they’re nodding profusely at her.
-it took, shit you not. 3 hours for them to get a table and that was only because her boss came in and MADE her seat the crew.
-“what do you want.” She huffs, her notepad clenched so tight it crumples the paper.
Shanks only further studies the girl, her rage ever present as she slams the notepad down.
“I SAID, What. Do. You. Want. Quickly, or I’m leaving you here to wait 3 more hours. Spit it the fuck out you old bastard.” She spits, leaving him somewhat shocked.
-“How about the-“
-“we’re all out. Deadbeat.” She finishes, dropping her apron and notepad, then walking out.
Safe to say that wasn’t the reaction he was expecting.
-when he finds where you guys live and YOU answer the door thank god, he firstly apologizes (which you don’t accept right away) and explains how he already met your daughter.
Speak of the devil she had just rounded the corner asking who it was.
“Don’t let this fucker the house mom, please.” She begs, gaze flittering form you to her sperm donor.
-yeahhhhhh this is why he hardly ever makes the effort to see his unsuspecting kids. Doesn’t quite pan out how he thinks.
Mihawk
- you’re not the only one at all. He’s got plenty fucking kids running around and you’re fully aware of that, having run into more than one child that looks just mf like him.
-he won’t deny any of them, but he doesn’t feel like he owes them anything either? It’s weird and you usually feel bad that he picked you and your child when he could very well have done that for the rest of them.
-he often assures you that we’re were one night stand situations he hardly remembers after being so damn drunk.
-he’s a good dad though and a great husband. He makes sure you’re taken care of even is he’s gone a lot of the time. When you told him you were having a baby he didn’t leave from your side.
-when the baby is born he’s a bit suprised they don’t look like him but as soon as they open their eyes he’s so mf smug. Those eyes are a dead giveaways that’s his baby.
-don’t let that baby ask for something be used Mihawk will without a doubt give it to them no matter what.
-“Honey I-“
-there standing in front of the fridge, in laminated with its light are your husband and child. Their eyes wide like an owls, staring directly into your soul.
-“We wanted ice cream.”
Buggy
-he loves his babies. Hands down loves his fucking babies. Plural because of course you were blessed/cursed with triplets.
-two boys, one sweet girl, and not one of them look like their daddy, besides that faint tint of blue in their hair.
-and he’s maddddd, well. not at you but at his genes.
-“honey wait, they might just grow into it?” You encourage, trying not to laugh as he tried to figure out why his kids don’t look like him.
-thank god you were right because by time they were all 4/5 that blue had brightened and the little red glow of their noses were ever present.
-he’s so attentive with you, taking care of the three of them when you need rest or just in general cause how gorgeous wife needs rest after making three gorgeous babies
-freaks his babies out when he takes his head off
-then they won’t leave him the fuck alone about it and will often take pieces of him while he chases them around for them back.
-his babies get their own spot on the show and it fucking adorable watching toddlers dance to circus music with face paint they insisted they do themselves
-best dad buggy 100%
#x reader#one piece#reader is black#one piece live action#i don't care he's hot#headcannons#one piece x reader#opla#hes so hot#opla luffy x reader#one piece zoro x reader#nami x reader#opla usopp x reader#opla sanji x reader#opla shanks x reader#opla mihawk x reader#opla buggy x reader#Mother’s Day headcannon
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Haikyuu men as fathers pt 2.
Part 1, Part 3, Part 4
Ft. Kuroo, Tendou, Atsumu, and Tsukki.
Decided instead of babies I wanted to do slightly older kids! :)
CW: Indication of pregnancy, relationships, marriage and some angst for tsukki’s
Enjoy lovelies <33
…………….
Kuroo Tetsuro:
“Nap time! If my two munchkins don’t go to take a nap, the nap time monster will come out!” He hears little playful shrieks from his son and daughter.
“But Daddy, I don’t want to!” His daughter whines. A soft smile arose on his face as he bent down to his 6 year old daughter’s level. “Mommy will get mad at me if you little nuggets don’t go lay down.” Kuroo covers his eyes and pretends to cry.
His son comes out of nowhere and starts trying to comfort him. “Don’t cry daddy! Umiko and me will go lay down! Come on sissy, we don’t want daddy to cry anymore.” 6 year old Shinji drags his twin sister to their room.
As soon as he’s sure they’ve turned the corner a lopsided grin appears on his face, “works every time.”
He is a dad boss no questions asked
You need a break from the kids? He’ll take them to the park and get all their energy out
For the first couple of months of their lives you would have to drag Kuroo out of their room because his 6’2” ass would get in the crib and sleep with his babies
He DEFINITELY took some time off of work to be there for you and the babies
He always makes corny dad jokes (most likely about science) “Why are chemists excellent for solving problems?” …. “They have all the solutions.”
omg he thinks his jokes are so fucking funny too (his kids learn the hyena laugh 🤦🏽♀️)
Whenever you’re away he always sends pictures of what he and the kids are up to.
idgaf abt what you say, that man can COOK
Tendou Satori:
“You can’t tell mom I let you have chocolate before dinner, ‘kay?” He looks into his 9 year old daughter’s eyes waiting for her response.
“It’s our little secret!” She giggles and man is laughing contagious because Tendou starts to laugh too. You were working a little later than usual so Tendou picked up Mayumi even though it wasn’t his day to do so. “What do you want for dinner, May?”
Her eyes widen at the statement. Which tells Tendou a WHOLE lot “Dad’s cooking?!” She asks not because she’s excited but because she’s scared for her life. Tendou may be a chocolatier but this man is not a very good cook unless it’s pasta.
“Nah, we’re gonna stop and get dinner before we go home. Dad’s gotta close shop though, so I thought I’d ask so we can order.”
She hops off the counter and does a cute little dance. I mean.. it’s in her genes. “You’re the best, Dad!”
He shakes his head with a smile, “oh I try!”
SO PROTECTIVE
The second he finds out someone was messing with his baby, he called the teacher and talked things out with her
He is a sucker for spoiling, you often scold him for it but he still does it anyway
He SINGS HIS DAUGHTER TO SLEEP>>>>>
He is the “ouchie” police, his daughter would always giggle but anytime she stubbed her toe on a chair or something he’d start talking to whatever caused his little girl pain and start scolding it (he knows it makes her feel better)
NOT a cook please he will burn the place by accident
Definitely ruined some intimate moments because instead of walking baby girl back to bed he gets dressed and offers to let her cuddle with you guys in the bed (after changing sheets ofc) (he wants his little girl to feel loved)
When she was a baby he’d call you every hour while he was at work to make sure you and the baby are okay
He almost passed out when the school called saying Mayumi broke her leg
He rushed her to the hospital so fast “dw baby, daddy’s here for you.” “I know it hurts princess.”
He went around interrogating the kids in her class thinking one of them pushed her, he was shocked to find out she climbed to the top of the playground and jumped off of it 😭
Definitely got his daughter obsessed with frogs
Miya Atsumu:
“Mama’s gonna kill us! What’s yer last words?” He says in slight shock. His sons start crying thinking that you were actually gonna kill them.
“Not literally boys! Just… this mess- oh jeez.” He looks around bubbles and soap all over the floor.
Atsumu told the twins to ‘be good and color ‘til papa’s done in the shower’ and he came back to this. Dawn dish soap all over the floor and bubbles galore.
The cherry on top had to be that the dog was soaking in mixed berry juice because five year old Kosuke tried to pour himself a cup of juice.
“Alright! C’mon boys, we gotta tidy up before mama gets home!” You would be home in 2 hours…
They cleaned up the bubble mess, after being distracted like 10 times and having a few bubble fights.
Next was giving the twins a bath. Which proved to be harder than it needed to be. Kosuke was mad at Kensuke because he kept showing him his butt. Honestly, Atsumu had to keep himself from laughing.
“That’s enough, Ken. Nobody want to see yer lil butt. Hurry up ‘n wash cuz papa still has to bathe Shoko.” Kensuke’s bad self is splashing water in the tub and it’s getting all over his twin. Kosuke doesn’t like it so he smacks his brother and the latter begins to cry.
“DADDY, K-KO KOSUKE HIT ME, AHHHHHHH.” Atsumu rubs his temple. He all but freezes when he feels a soft hand kneed into his shoulder.
“Seems like you guys had a great time, Shoko’s covered in juice.” He turns his head to look at you.
“it’s not what ya think, hon!” You shake your head at him.
“Ko, don’t hit your brother. When papa is being annoying you don’t see me hitting him, now do you?” He answers honestly, “sometimes you do… you’ll punch papa’s shoulder.”
He got you there lol. “Well that’s more out of love. Apologize to him and you,” you point to your little trouble maker, “don’t provoke your brother, got it?” He nods and goes to rub his eyes. Which is why he started crying for the second time because he got soap in his eyes…
Anyway after their bath and dinner the boys were sent to bed. Shoko was bathed and you and Atsumu were laying in bed.
“I shoulda been watching them..” he admits. You agree. “You live and you learn ‘Tsumu.”
He had no idea what he was doing at first tbh
he can be a bit lazy w the boys sometimes but in the end he pulls it together
The type of dad to make you sit there and say cheese for 500 years while he tries to get the perfect picture
He was mad cuz he thought the twins loved samu more than him
he was sad when they didn’t seem too interested in volleyball “Atsumu, they’re five.” … “Still!”
Impulsively bought a dog cuz his sons wouldn’t stop talking abt having one
In the end he loves his boys very much and would do anything for them
Tsukishima Kei:
“I hate you mom! I really wanted to go!” Your 13 year old daughter slammed her door. She was angry because you didn’t let her go to a dance some kid in her class was hosting. It’s not that she particularly wanted to go, she was just mad that her 17 year old brother got to go out to his friend’s party.
Your husband emerges from his office, he adjusts his glasses and looked at you with curiosity. You sigh hugging him, “Kei.. am I a bad mother?” He squeezes you in the hug, “not in the slightest. We’re doing what’s best for them. What’s got her so upset?”
“She wants to go to this party but I said no because I don’t know any of the parents there. Also, I’m just scared something will happen to her.”
He rubs your back in a comforting way. “I’ll let her go-” you interrupt, “Kei!” He gives you a quick peck to the lips.
“Wasn’t done…” you stayed quiet waiting for him to finish. He clears his throat. “As I was saying… I’ll allow her to go if I chaperone. If she doesn’t like that she won’t go.” He decided and you sigh in relief.
“I’ll go order pizza. Can you talk to her?” He nods, “Supreme.” You roll your eyes at him and smile. “I know what you like dummy.” He playfully flips you off and you laugh in shock at how childish he is even though he’s past his prime years.
He walks over to Hanae’s door and knocks softly. “Go away mom! I don’t like you!” Tsukishima shakes his head. He’s not going to tolerate her disrespecting you, the person who birthed her. He opens the door and she’s on her bed with her headphones on and dried tears on her face.
“Dad…” She already knew what was to come. She knows he doesn’t like when she disrespects you like that. “Don’t say you hate her. She’s your mother, Hanae. It hurts her to hear those words come from your mouth.” She lowers her head and takes her headphones off.
“I didn’t mean it..” her voice is small. Tsukishima handles the situation as he usually would, find the root of the problem (even though he already knew)
“What made you say it?” He sat on her bed and pat a spot next to him basically telling her to come closer. “Um.. I wanted to go to this dance a guy a know is hosting but she said no…” her eyes didn’t meet her father’s.
“Why’d you want to go so bad?” He says bringing her chin up so she looks right into his eyes. He knows she hates it but direct communication is key, even facial expressions can reveal the slightest things.
“W-well. Ugh, why am I crying this is so stupid.” She pauses to wipe her eyes.
“You guys let Akihiko go where ever he wants but I can’t go anywhere! I hate it!” She turns her head away, Tsukki can hear the little sniffles.
“Not true. A lot of stuff that he went to when he was younger, he was chaperoned. We just barely started letting him go out alone so he can get a taste of real life. You can ask him yourself. You’re only thirteen, don’t rush it. Also your mother and I just want to protect you from dangerous situations. Your mom doesn’t know any of the people there which is why she said no.” Tsukki is once again rubbing circles into someone’s back.
“There are so many bad people in the world and we just want to make you a little safer.” She turns back to face him, she scoots closer to her dad so she can hug him.
“I’m sorry.” She says through sniffles. “I’m not the one you need to apologize to.” She nods, “I need a minute.” He strokes her hair as she finishes letting it all out.
“I told your mother you can go if I chaperone you.” He explains after she’s calmed down.
“Dad, you’re gonna embarrass me.” She says with a giggle, tears now drying up.
“Damn right I will. I’ll tell all those hungry little boys that you eat your boogers and you don’t shower for weeks.” He says with a sly grin. She frowns, “dad no!”
He pats her back, “alright kid go apologize if you really mean it.” You and your daughter make up and eat pizza together :3
VERY logical
also super protective
100% the kind of dad who loves his kids but puts his wife first
He’s the bad cop parent while you’re the good cop parent
He loves family cooking night where you guys cook together
he will embarrass both his children in front of their crushes (and thinks it’s the funniest thing ever)
He just seems like the kind of dad to fall asleep and get colored on 😭 they give him a lil mustache and a uni-brow
I feel like he kinda always sides with Hanae for the most part bc he was a little sibling so he knows her pain lmao
he be bragging abt his kids “Akihiko is only six and he’s already reading flawlessly” “Oh, Hanae already did that when she was three”
you wanted to delay the sex talk but like Tsukki was so blunt and just told them 😭
He’s always teasing you “If you don’t be careful Akihiko you might end up with someone as annoying as your mom” you just glare and he snickers
Such a proud dad and has a video of every one of his kids’ firsts
#dad!haikyuu#haikyuu dads#haikyuu!!#haikyuu#kuroo tetsurou#kuroo x reader#dad!kuroo#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu tendou#tendou x reader#atsumu x reader#atsumu miya#dad!atsumu#tsukishima x reader#kei tsukishima#tsukishima kei#tsukki x reader#haikyuu characters as dads#dad!tendou#dad!tsukishima
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Love
Love told through actions
A/N: another short story. it's sweet and i hope you enjoy
+
Love in movies was always spoken to be about grand gestures and confessing your love in the rain. Y/N had never been lucky to be loved like that. Y/N cut off relationships because her partners never made her feel the butterflies books talked about. It was always an empty feeling, and Y/N held out for that something more.
It wasn’t until she met Harry that she realized the movies had it wrong. Love wasn’t about putting yourself on the line or professing your love in order not to lose the person you loved. Love was in every little act of kindness a partner did.
From the moment Harry came into her life he showed her love. It’s one of the biggest reasons she falls in love with more and more each day.
Harry loved to have Y/N’s coffee made in the morning because he knew it would put a smile on her face.
He loved to help her put on her coat before leaving the house because then he would be assured she wouldn’t be cold.
He loved holding her hand and putting it in his pocket because he loved keeping her close.
Harry made a playlist of her favorite songs because he knew how much she hated the shuffle playing the same three songs in a row.
He learned how to braid her hair because sometimes she was busy cooking and needed it out of the way. Harry knew a braid would keep it tight, which is also a reason why he always has a claw clip clipped at the end of his shirt.
It also made Y/N reflect that she pours her love for him in acts of love. She texts him during her lunch break so he knows she is thinking of him. She helps make his bed in the morning when he’s in the shower. Y/N will make extra lunch because she knows he’s forgetful in packing his own. It’s the little things for them.
Y/N had a rough day at work, she didn’t let Harry know but she would be going to his place after work. She had spare clothes in her pre-packed bag and was ready to enjoy the night with Harry. Y/N knew she might not be fun company but Harry always managed to put a smile on her face.
When she arrived at his apartment, she parked in his free space knowing he saved it for her. He’d never make her walk in the dark, especially not alone. She walked up, knocking one time and let herself in. Harry didn’t lock the door when he knew she was on her way. Y/N thought it was unsafe but he promised her it was only a few minutes.
She took off her shoes, lining them up next to Harrys. Her bag was dumped on a nearby chair. Y/N walked inside trying to find Harry but instead found the living room set up with blankets and pillows. There were endless of her favorite snacks almost spilling off the coffee table. The tv was set up to show the newest Trolls movie ready to be played.
Y/N felt herself well up with tears. Harry set this up for her, for no other reason than because he wanted to.
Harry walked out to the restroom, drying off his hair and his shorts hanging low. “Hi, honey.”
Y/N felt herself melt and hurried over to be in his warm embrace. He was quick to welcome her with a kiss to her temple, Y/N placed her own over one of his swallows.
“You don’t want to watch Trolls,” she sputters. Not believing he’d watch a dumb kid movie simply because they’re herfavorite.
Harry frowns, running his hands down her back. “I’ll have you know, I’m a big Branch fan. His character development is set to be huge.”
Y/N giggles, because that means he must have watched the other two films on his own. These were comfort movies that couldn’t make her sad. Their job was to have her sing and laugh to the silliness of the characters.
“Any special reason for the set up?” Y/N asks curious.
Harry smirks, pulling away to look at her shining eyes. “Can’t I be a good boyfriend and surprise you?”
Y/N shrugs, “sure but feels a little on the nose.”
Harry drapes his arm over her shoulder and guides her into the bedroom. He has a change of clothes laid on the bed for her. “You didn’t text me a single heart.” Harry hangs up his towel. “You love putting ten hearts to everything so I knew you must be feeling down or something.”
Y/N feels her tears start up again because Harry really does notice everything. She gestures for Harry to come back over to her and he does quickly. Y/N leans up on her toes and places a kiss on Harry’s sweet lips. It’s an “I love you” one they both don’t have to voice because it’s felt.
“I’m going to suck your dick so good after we watch the Trolls.” Harry throws his head back in surprise.
He pulls her into another kiss, much longer and much more passionate. “Don’t take long, I’ve thrown your favorite blanket in the dryer.”
Another, I love you.
#harry styles#harry styles x reader#harry styles fluff#harry styles fic rec#harry styles angst#harry styles smut#harry styles story#harry styles blurb#harry styles x y/n
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hello gorgeous! i got another idea! How about reader going through a divorce where the husband is really an arrogant asshole, permanently making fun of her etc. And then she meets Elijah, and they start getting close and he helps her gain her confidence back and shows her how she should be treated. And maybe a few months later, after the divorce, she meets the ex-husband somewhere again and he tries to humiliate her again but Elijah is there and he puts him in his place. Smut is very much welcomed. 🫶🏻
Change
I hate Antoinette, but they were hot together
18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}
Your marriage causes you to feel trapped and worthless. Until you meet a handsome stranger at a café and he shows you how much more you can be.
♡♡ Thanks for the request lovely @msveronicag, I hope you enjoy it! ♡♡
5.8k words - Warnings: angsty, smutty, reader has low self-esteem, husband is verbally & financially abusive, cheating, car sex, Elijah being a bit of a rascal.
When you first got together with John, he was just so charming and you couldn't help but fall for him. It was hard to say no to him, and you were in a haze of love for a long time. He was such an extrovert, loud and funny, and you felt like you couldn't live without him.
But over the course of your marriage things started to change, his mask slipping and showing the real John underneath. At first it was just a comment here and there, you told yourself he was just having a bad day, but then it just kept getting worse.
The day you stopped loving him, was the day he had a bad day at work and decided to take it out on you. You cooked his favorite dinner, trying to make him feel better, and when he came home, he told you to order takeout instead. You were in the middle of making it, so you just told him it would be done soon, and tried to ignore him.
He took the food and threw it in the sink, and started yelling. You were so stunned, you just stood there and let him. He said the most terrible things, telling you how worthless and pathetic you were, that no one would ever want you if they knew you were like this.
A part of you started to believe him, because no matter how hard you tried to be a good wife, you just weren't. John was so kind and charming to everyone else, so it clearly had to be your fault.
You slowly stopped talking to your friends and family, you were probably annoying them anyways.
John eventually cheated on you, and then you found out he was cheating with multiple women. He would disappear for days at a time, off with someone else. You didn't even care, you didn't love him anymore.
Abuse is insidious like that, you become numb to it all, your brain normalizes it to help you cope, until you don't realize that you are being abused. Until you think it's your fault...
You woke to the sound of yelling, your usual alarm clock these days. John was a loud and obnoxious man, and he had no problem screaming at you whenever the mood struck him.
Today's argument was over you sleeping in. You wanted to stay in bed for a little longer, and John couldn't stand to wait another moment. So he went ahead and had to make his own breakfast, and then came upstairs to berate you.
"You really are a lazy slob! I bet you didn't do any of the laundry either. Get up and clean the house!"
You slowly got out of bed, lately your coping mechanism was ignoring him. If you didn't say anything perhaps he wouldn't yell at you. It wasn't a great coping mechanism, but it was the only thing keeping you sane.
"Are you fucking stupid? Answer me!" John yelled as you walked into the bathroom, closing the door in his face.
That didn't stop him, he yelled through the door, and you turned on the shower. Perhaps you would stand there for an hour, just to piss him off.
Just when you started to relax under the warm water he started banging on the door.
"You've been in there too long, wasting the water I pay for. Get out!"
You didn't have a job, because John told you he would take care of you. You were young and naive, you learned the hard way that being financially beholden to any man was a bad idea.
You finally turned off the shower and dried off. You put on a baggy shirt and sweats, and opened the door. He was gone, probably downstairs watching tv.
You got dressed and headed to your craft room, you spent a lot of time in there. You enjoyed painting intricate scenes on canvases, it was the only thing that gave you joy anymore.
When you painted, your mind would go completely blank, and you would lose yourself in the art. Sometimes you would paint for hours and not even notice.
You put on some music and started working on a landscape. You didn't realize how much time passed until the door opened.
John must of had a day off work because he was still home, he usually left by this time. He stood there and watched you for a moment.
"I'm bored and hungry. Make me lunch."
"I'm not your maid. Make it yourself," you mumbled, not taking your eyes off the canvas.
"Why the fuck do you even waste your time with that? Do you think anyone cares about your mediocre shit?" He snapped.
He's right, no one would care about your paintings, even if you shared them. You weren't that talented, it was purely a form of escape. But a small part of you dreamed of being able to sell your artwork and live off the income.
You set down your paintbrush and sighed.
"I don't do it to show off, I do it because I enjoy it. It calms my mind and makes me happy," you answered.
He laughed, a cruel and mocking sound. He had no appreciation for art or culture, he only cared about money and power. He stepped forward and ripped the canvas off the easel, and started tearing it to pieces.
"How's that for making you happy? Do you still want to paint? Be a famous artist? Real Picasso you are!" He sneered, laughing at his own joke.
You didn't want him to see you cry, so you just got up, grabbed your things and walked out of the house. You felt so weak, such a pushover, unable to defend yourself against his cruelty. A little voice in your head told you that you deserved it, no one knew you better than John, so if he said you were worthless and pathetic, then you must be.
There was a cafe near your house, you always went there when John was being too much for you to handle. It was a cute little spot that doubled as a vintage book store. Dark wooden bookshelves that went from floor to ceiling, plants in every corner and a cozy seating area with large comfortable couches and chairs. It also displayed paintings from local artists on its walls, you enjoyed the ambiance of the place, it made you feel at peace. You would buy a coffee and sit in there for hours reading.
You had seen the same man there a couple times, and his striking appearance caught your eye. His dark hair was perfectly styled, his brown eyes piercing, and his strong jawline was covered in stubble. There was something about him that drew you in, but you were far too shy to ever approach him. What would you even say to a man like that? Hey, I think you a stupidity beautiful? Is the book you're reading good? What do you do for fun? It all sounded so pathetic in your head, so you stayed away.
You noticed that he was always nice and polite to the waitresses and he tipped generously. You wondered if he was like John, that it was all just a facade and that he was secretly cruel underneath his mask of civility. But his face was always soft, his voice gentle, and the way he held the door open for other people gave you hope that he was a genuinely nice man.
You would never see him in anything other than a three piece suit, which was unusual for this neighborhood. His dark blue, or sometimes black suits, fit him so well and complemented his skin tone. He wore crisp white shirts and you could tell he was muscular underneath, not bulky, but lean.
You would sip on your coffee, reading, and stealing glances of him out of the corner of your eye. It was probably pathetic, but the way he looked and carried himself made you feel good, so you let yourself.
One day as you were reading your book, you noticed him reading the same book. Perhaps it was the extra espresso shot you added to your coffee or the fact that it was the first sunny day in weeks, but you found the courage to get up and introduce yourself.
"Hey, uh, I see you have excellent taste in books," you smiled at him, your heart fluttering when he made eye contact. You fought the urge to run away, his gaze was intense, but not harsh.
"It seems you do as well," he returned the smile, his voice was like velvet. He gestured to the seat across from him. "Please, join me."
You felt butterflies in your stomach as you sat down, trying your best to maintain eye contact and not blush.
"What made you choose this particular book?" He asked, gesturing at it.
"Honestly, the cover. The art style is really appealing," you told him, blushing a bit. The way he was looking at you made your breath catch in your throat.
"Interesting, I thought the same thing." He chuckled, closing his book and holding out his hand. "I'm Elijah, by the way."
"Y/N," you introduced yourself, taking his hand and shaking it.
"What do you think of it?" He asked, leaning back in his armchair, your gaze lingered on his arms as he crossed them.
"What?" You said, feeling your cheeks heating up. Why did you have to be so stupid all the time?
"The book, what do you think of the book?" He chuckled, tilting his head and smiling.
You talked about the book, the writing, the characters, and how you thought it was going to end. You ended up talking for hours, he was easy to talk to. You found yourself getting more and more relaxed around him.
Elijah had this aura about him, an air of confidence that was oddly comforting. He was polite and charming, with only a hint of a mysterious accent that intrigued you.
"I can't believe we've been sitting here for so long," you laughed. "I didn't mean to keep you, I'm sure you have other places to be."
"No, I have nowhere I need to be, I'm enjoying your company," he said softly. You noticed his gaze lingered on your lips.
You glanced down at your watch and saw that it was nearly 11pm. "Wow, I should go, my husband is probably wondering where I am." You got up and dug around in your purse to pay the bill.
"I would love to see you again," Elijah said as you pulled out your wallet. "Here, let me." He pulled out his own wallet and handed the waitress some cash.
A giddy, almost school girlish, smile spread across your face. "Oh, okay. Thank you, that would be great." You stuttered a bit, blushing and putting your wallet away.
"Have a lovely night," he said softly, getting up and kissing the back of your hand.
Your heart fluttered, and you couldn't wipe the silly grin off of your face as you left. You hadn't felt this feeling in so long, and the thought of seeing him again filled you with joy.
The next few weeks felt like a dream, every day you would go to the cafe and read. You would sit in Elijah's section, and after a while he would show up and sit across from you, drinking his coffee.
"I hope I'm not interrupting," he said the first time. "I just enjoy your company."
"You're not interrupting," you blushed, putting your book down. "I enjoy your company as well."
As time went on, the conversations got more and more personal. He asked about your job, your life, and your husband. You didn't want to talk about John, it was hard to admit you had been in a bad marriage for so long. You told him a little, about how you both fell out of love, and were basically roommates.
Elijah would listen intently, and would always ask the right questions. He was very good at drawing information out of you. But whenever he got too close to the truth you would change the subject.
It was obvious that he was a good listener and had a kind heart. You wondered why he bothered with you, a nobody, when he was clearly such a sophisticated man. He could have anyone, and yet he was sitting with you.
One day he brought you a gift, it was a tiny ornamental bird, painted a beautiful shade of green. It was just like the one in the first book you both read, and you had told him how much you liked it. You were speechless, it was the sweetest thing anyone had ever done for you.
You decided to make him a gift, and spent all day working on it. It was a bookmark with an image of a forest painted on it. You used a mix of acrylic and watercolor, the greens and browns blending together.
John walked in on you finishing up, and sneered at your painting. "Are you trying to impress somebody with that? No one's gonna want that ugly thing." He said, scoffing.
Your heart sank and you felt tears pricking the corners of your eyes. He was right, who would want it? It was nothing special.
You were going to give it to Elijah anyways, but you kept second guessing yourself. He wouldn't want it, it was a stupid idea.
He came into the cafe a little later that day, and greeted you with his usual warm smile. Your stomach twisted into knots, and you felt your palms starting to sweat.
"Hey," you said, trying to sound normal. "How are you today?"
"I'm well, how are you?" He replied, sitting across from you.
"I'm good, thank you," you nodded. You decided it was now or never. "So, I made this for you," you blurted out, holding out the bookmark. Your face was hot, and you wished you could hide under the table.
Elijah's face lit up, and he gave a wide crooked smile. "This is wonderful, thank you," he said.
You watched as he picked it up, admiring the artwork. He traced the pattern of trees with his finger and he seemed completely enamored with it.
"You are very talented, do you sell these?," he asked. He looked up and saw the expression on your face.
“Oh god no, I don't know about that, I mean, I just do it for fun, and..."
You were interrupted by your phone ringing, it was John.
"Sorry, one moment," you said, answering the call.
"Where the hell are you? It's past 8pm, and I'm starving, come home and cook dinner," he growled.
You felt your cheeks heat up under Elijah's gaze, shame and embarrassment washed over you.
"Yes, of course, I'm sorry, I'll be right home," you whispered, you felt so small.
"Hurry up, lazy ass," John snapped before hanging up.
You put your phone away, and forced a smile.
"I'm sorry, I have to go, I forgot my husband was cooking dinner," you lied.
Elijah nodded, his brow furrowing a bit. "Alright, have a lovely night," he said.
"You too," you mumbled as you quickly grabbed your things and left.
You cried all the way home, feeling like a such a loser, a complete failure. Why couldn't you have someone like Elijah in your life? Someone who listened, someone who cared, someone who didn't berate you every second of the day.
You wondered what Elijah thought of you, did he see you as pathetic and weak? A fool that let her husband walk all over her?
It didn't matter, he was so out of your league, you were just a stupid, fat nobody. He would never want you, no one would.
When you showed up to the cafe the next day you noticed a fancy sports car with tinted windows parked out front. It looked very out of place on your street, the only people around who had cars like that were old rich people, and the occasional drug dealer.
Before you reached the door you heard your name being called, and turned around. You saw Elijah waving at you from the driver's seat of the car.
You approached the passenger seat window, and he smiled, beckoning you to get in. You sat down and he handed you a cup of coffee, you smiled at the gesture, he knew your order.
"Thank you," you said, taking a sip.
"I want to show you something," he said, pulling on to the street.
"What is it?" You asked.
"It's a surprise," he said, smirking.
You had no idea where he was taking you, but you didn't mind. You were excited to spend some more time with him.
When he pulled up to the local community centre you were very confused. You couldn't imagine why Elijah wanted to bring you here, maybe it was part of the surprise.
You both got out of the car and entered the building. Inside there was a craft show going on, local artists had set up tables displaying their wares.
His thoughtfulness touched you deeply, he had taken the time to bring you here because he knew you loved art.
The next couple hours were spent perusing the aisles and admiring the paintings, sculptures and crafts. Elijah seemed to have an interest in all of it, asking lots of questions and complimenting the artists. He had a way of making everyone feel comfortable, it's something you admired about him.
"You could get a booth here, sell your art if you wanted," he suggested.
"Oh, I don't know about that, this is just a hobby," you said, brushing off his idea.
"Why not?" He pressed.
"I...well, no one would want my stuff, I mean, they're just little paintings," you sighed
"I would, I think you're very talented," he said softly.
Your heart swelled at his words.
"Thanks," you smiled.
After the craft show, he drove you home, you made him park at the end of the street. You knew how jealous John could get, and the last thing you wanted was for him to see you getting dropped off by a handsome stranger.
"Thank you, Elijah, this was fun," you said.
"The pleasure was all mine," he replied.
"You can't tell anyone about this, I mean, if John finds out, he'll..." You trailed off, feeling stupid.
"He will what?" Elijah's eyes were full of concern.
"Oh, he just, gets jealous easily," you said, fumbling over your words.
"Are you not allowed to have friends?" His brow furrowed, and his eyes hardened a bit.
"No, I mean, I can have friends, I'm just not, uh, supposed to have guy friends," you admitted.
"That doesn't sound like a healthy relationship," Elijah said, his voice sounding slightly deeper than usual. "How about business partners?"
"What?" You were confused.
"If I could help you with your art career, get you a booth at the craft fair, promote your work, would that be allowed?"
"Uh, I guess so," you said.
"Excellent, let's meet tomorrow, discuss what needs to be done," he smiled.
"Okay," you smiled, a warm feeling spreading through your body.
When you got home you decided not to tell John, the last thing you wanted was an argument. Maybe if you were successful and sold a lot, then he would be happy for you, but that was just wishful thinking.
You and Elijah had been meeting up once a week for two months, discussing your art, and ways to improve your sales. He was an expert at marketing, and had already gotten you some commissions.
It was nice to have something else to focus on, instead of constantly being reminded that you were a failure. And for the first time in your life you were making your own money, it felt good.
You started to feel more confident in yourself, Elijah was always saying how talented and special you were, and it was beginning to stick.
Today was the craft fair, and you were nervous, what if no one bought anything? What if they all hated it and thought it was ugly?
Elijah pulled up in his fancy car, and greeted you with his usual warm smile. You both had gotten so much closer in the last couple months, and he had become your best friend. He was the only person in your life that made you feel like you mattered.
Your feelings for him were beyond friendship, but you couldn't risk losing him. It was better to have him as a friend, than nothing at all.
The craft fair was going well, you had already sold two pieces, and were chatting with some customers.
"Oh my goodness, this is gorgeous," one of the customers, an older woman, exclaimed.
"Thank you," you beamed.
"How long have you and your husband been selling these?" She asked, gesturing to you and Elijah.
"Oh, uh, we're not married," you blushed.
"Sorry, I just assumed, your ring..." she trailed off.
You glanced down at your hand and saw your wedding band, the simple gold band John had given you so many years ago.
"I am married, just not to him, we are just business partners," you smiled awkwardly.
"Oh, my mistake," the woman said, returning your smile, her gaze lingering on Elijah.
"It's okay," you blushed, trying to busy yourself by wrapping the painting she had purchased.
"You'd make a lovely couple," the woman said, handing you her credit card.
Your face burned, and your palms began to sweat. You had tried your best to not think of him that way, it wasn't fair to him, or to John. But the thought was always in the back of your mind.
"Thank you, have a nice day," you managed, handing her the wrapped painting.
"You too dear," she said, winking.
You sold out quickly, and decided to celebrate with a drink at a nearby bar.
"I'm very proud of you," Elijah smiled. "You have a natural gift."
"Thanks," you said, feeling yourself blush.
He leaned in close and took your hand, tracing your wedding band. "This doesn't suit you," he said.
"Excuse me?" You squeaked, the butterflies in your stomach fluttering madly.
He ignored your reaction and just grinned, his fingers intertwining with yours. You stared at your hands, his thumb lightly caressing your knuckles. Your heart was pounding so loud you were sure he could hear it.
"Can I ask you a personal question?" He said, his gaze fixed on your face.
"Sure," you whispered, unable to take your eyes off of him.
"Why didn't John show up to support you?" His voice was barely a whisper.
Your heart sank. You had purposefully not told John, not wanting to hear him complain about it, or belittle you.
"Well, um, I didn't really invite him," you confessed.
"Why not?"
"Because, I knew he wouldn't care," you sighed. "And I don't want him to know I'm earning my own money,"
"Because you plan on leaving him." It wasn't a question.
"Y-yeah, eventually," you stammered.
He leaned forward and kissed the back of your hand. "Good, you deserve better," he murmured, his lips still grazing your skin.
You didn't know what to say, your head was spinning and you felt hot all over.
"You never talk about him, but I can tell you are unhappy," he said, sitting back.
"It's complicated," you whispered.
"You can talk to me," he said.
You paused for a moment, trying to collect your thoughts. You had never talked to anyone about your feelings for John, it was too difficult.
"Well, we used to be happy, when we first got married, but now he's not the same," you said, trying to keep the emotion out of your voice.
"How so?"
"He's controlling and possessive, and he yells a lot. He doesn't love me anymore, and I'm not sure he ever did," you admitted, tears welling up in your eyes. "He cheats on me regularly and controls the finances. Selling my art is the first opportunity I've had to earn money of my own, and I'm terrified of what he'll do if he finds out."
You felt yourself begin to cry, and tried to wipe the tears away, ashamed that your life had turned out this way.
"You hold all of this pain inside, it's not healthy," Elijah said, his face was unreadable.
"I know," you sobbed. "I'm sorry, I don't know why I'm crying, it's so stupid."
"It's not stupid, you're not stupid," he said, wiping away a tear with his thumb.
You looked into his eyes, his face full of concern. He cared about you, and it was a relief to finally have someone to confide in. You feared that Elijah would reject you, see you as pathetic, but he didn't. He stayed by your side, listening and offering comfort.
"If you ever decide to leave him, you are more than welcome to stay with me," he said.
"You'd do that for me?"
"Of course, you're my friend," he smiled.
You threw your arms around him and buried your face in his neck. "Thank you," you mumbled.
He froze for a moment, before wrapping his arms around you, pulling you close. You inhaled his scent, a mixture of cologne and whiskey. He was solid and warm, and you felt safe in his embrace.
"Thank you, for everything," you repeated, beginning to pull away, but he held you in place.
You felt something stir deep inside, something primal and raw. The heat from his body, the way his strong arms felt around you, and the closeness of his face was overwhelming.
He kissed your cheek as you pulled back, and his lips lingered there for a moment. Your skin tingled where his lips had touched, and you could feel the warmth from his breath.
You sat back and looked at him, his eyes were dark and full of desire, your fingers intertwined with his. The air was thick with tension, and the electricity between the two of you was undeniable.
"I should get home," you said softly, not really wanting to leave.
"Of course," he said, his voice was deep and raspy, his grip on your hand tightening.
You paid the bill, and walked out to the parking lot. Elijah stood close beside you, and his hand brushed yours a few times as you walked to his car.
Before you could open the passenger side door you felt his hands on your hips. He spun you around and pressed you against the car, his lips capturing yours in a heated kiss. You gasped as his tongue slipped into your mouth, exploring and tasting you.
Your arms snaked around his neck, and your fingers ran through his hair. His hands slid down your hips and grabbed your ass, pulling you flush against his body.
His kiss was passionate and needy, and he moaned softly into your mouth. The sound sent a wave of heat through your body, and you felt your panties getting wet.
After a few moments, he pulled back and rested his forehead on yours, both of you panting.
"Right, okay," he said, his breathing heavy.
"Yeah," you breathed, not really sure what to say.
He pulled away and went to open the passenger door for you, but you stopped him. You felt bold and daring, and the alcohol gave you a confidence boost. You motioned to the back door, and he smirked, pushing you up against the car and kissing you again before opening the door.
You climbed in and he followed, his hands grabbing your waist as his lips found yours again. You moaned into the kiss, the heat between your legs intensifying.
The windows fogged up as you undressed, you were grateful for the tinted windows. You moved onto his lap in just your bra and panties, running your fingers through his hair. He kissed your neck and whispered your name.
"We shouldn't do this," you murmured, closing your eyes and tilting your head back.
"I know," he replied, his lips brushing against your ear.
Elijah placed feather-light kisses down your throat, his hands running up and down your back.
"Tell me to stop," he said, his voice thick with desire
"No," you breathed, clutching him tightly.
He reached around your waist and unclasped your bra, gently removing it and tossing it into the front seat. He ran his tongue across your breasts, circling each nipple before taking them into his mouth, sucking gently.
"You're so beautiful," he murmured, his hands running up and down your back, cupping your ass and pulling you closer.
You blushed, your heated skin flush against his, feeling his hard cock between your legs.
"So are you," you breathed, kissing his neck and grinding against him.
Elijah groaned, his hand coming down to grip your hip and help guide your movements. You were so turned on, it had been so long since you had sex, and John was never a generous lover. You wanted Elijah so badly, you felt like you were going to combust.
His lips found yours, and you kissed him with everything you had. The heat between the two of you turning into a raging fire.
Suddenly the moment was interrupted by the sound of your phone ringing. You both tried to ignore it, but it just rang again, and again, and again.
You broke the kiss and grabbed your phone, seeing it was your husband calling. "Fuck," you cursed, and you answered it.
"Why haven't you been answering your phone?!" He demanded.
"I've been busy," you replied. Elijah began kissing your neck again, a smirk on his lips as he listened. You suppressed a moan as he began to guide your hips, helping you grind against his hard cock.
"Busy doing what?! Who are you with?!" John shouted.
"I'm just with some friends, don't worry about it," you gasped.
"You don't have any friends," he spat.
"I do," you insisted, trying not to moan as Elijah's hand dipped into your panties.
"What are their names?" John questioned angrily.
"Elijah," you moaned as his thumb brushed your clit.
"The fuck!" John yelled, going completely into a rage. The kind that always frightened you, he always had a short temper.
Elijah could see the fear on your face and took the phone from you, tucking it under his neck as he continued to pleasure you.
"John, is it?" He asked, his voice cool and calm. "This is Elijah, I'm going to need you to calm down, you are scaring your wife," he said.
"Listen, whoever the fuck you are, don't think I won't track you down and fucking kill you," John spat, his anger reaching a boiling point.
Elijah chuckled, slipping a finger inside you and making you moan, you quickly covered your mouth, but Elijah moved your hand away and gave you a wicked grin, still speaking into the phone.
"That's a little violent, don't you think?" He murmured, his eyes never leaving yours. "Besides, I'd love to see you try," he smirked.
John went silent, you could hear his ragged breathing.
"Why do you pretend like you care John? She told me you fuck other people, I mean, who would blame her for finding a real man?" Elijah goaded.
You were shocked by his words, but couldn't deny how hot it was, or how aroused they were making you.
"Listen here motherfucker," John snarled, "she's mine, and I will not allow her to be touched by anyone el-"
Elijah hung up the call and discarded your phone, his eyes dark with lust as he stared at you.
"Now, where were we?" He asked, pulling you closer and kissing you deeply.
"I can't believe that just happened," you said, panting as his lips trailed down your neck.
"You don't need to worry about him anymore," he growled. "You are mine now."
You giggled, rolling your eyes at his possessiveness. But a part of you liked it, it made you feel desired, wanted.
"And I am yours," he added, his lips finding yours again, a deep and passionate kiss.
It started to rain, you could hear the droplets hitting the roof of the car. Making everything seem more intimate, as if it were just the two of you in the entire world.
You reached down and fumbled with the zipper of his pants, he lifted his hips and helped you get them down, his cock springing free. You wrapped a hand around it and began stroking him, his moans sending a thrill through your body.
"You don't ever have to go back to him," he whispered.
"I won't," you promised, your lips finding his once more.
He guided your hips, his cock teasing your entrance, and then you slowly eased down into him. He felt so good, a rush of pleasure coursed through your body. You moaned into his mouth, wrapping your arms around his neck and rocking against him.
The fire between you grew, the windows completely fogged up now. Your skin slick with sweat as you rode him slowly. Foreheads pressed together, you moved in perfect unison, a steady rhythm of passion.
You knew this would change everything, and that things were about to get very complicated. But in that moment, none of that mattered. All you cared about was being with Elijah, the only man who had ever made you feel loved and worthy.
John had taken everything from you, and had made your life miserable for the last ten years. You were trapped and made to feel it was what you deserved. But not anymore.
Elijah had shown you that you were worth more, that you deserved to be loved and cherished. He gave you the tools you needed to leave John, and the strength to do it. You would have never left him without Elijah.
And as you looked into his eyes, your bodies moving together in perfect harmony, you knew this was right, what love was supposed to feel like. You could see the emotions reflected in his eyes, the intensity of his feelings for you, the same intensity you felt.
You felt his muscles tense and knew he was close, his cock swelling inside you. You moved faster, chasing your own orgasm, wanting to come together. You couldn't tear your eyes away from his, and when the waves of pleasure finally crashed over you, it was intense, and he came with you.
The sounds of your moans and heavy breathing filled the car, the rain pattering against the windows. You clung to each other, hearts racing, trying to catch your breath.
As the high slowly faded, you both started laughing, giddy and sated. You pressed a soft kiss to his lips, and he returned it, a smile playing at his mouth.
"I love you," he breathed.
"I love you too," you replied, kissing him again.
He held you tight, his lips finding yours in the darkness. You were finally free, and the world was yours for the taking.
♡♡ Tag-List ♡♡
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Latibule IX
Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader (Mafia/Detective AU)
Summary: In which you didn’t know who he truly was- until it was too late. Or in which he found heaven in you.
Warnings: Secret Identity, Yandere behavior, Obsessiveness, Possessiveness, Manipulative behavior, Violence, Mention of death, Disability, Sexual themes, If you’re not 18+ please, PLEASE, do not interact. Be mindful of the warnings. Let me know if I miss anything.
A/N: ehehehehe enjoy, my loves! The calm before the storm 😌😌😌
Masterlist, Latibule VIII
“Agustd is alive.”
Jung Hoseok raised his brow when his suspicion was affirmed. See, he thought it was all too easy. Everything had gone so smoothly that it seemed…wrong. There was no way that he could kill him that effortlessly. The night that he trailed his brother and boss in that quaint, little province because he fed him wrong information was the fucking highlight of his life. Stabbing him felt like he finally got what he was owed. Watching him bled out managed to release some of the decade-long hatred he kept hidden in his heart.
In his mind, what he did could be considered his very own twisted justice. After all, he did kill her. Min Yoongi killed the love of his fucking life, the only woman who mattered to Hoseok. So why then shouldn’t he kill that fucking bastard?
It only felt right.
It did feel right.
Until it didn’t.
He should have known Min Yoongi was like an annoying cat with nine lives. He was Satan’s long, lost brother and even though he could send him to hell, Yoongi would only come back with a vengeance.
Hoseok slowly lowered his phone. He gripped his phone in anger and disbelief that he failed her again. But no more.
He would end this once and for all.
Hoseok stepped out of his office with a calm facade when all he wanted to do was destroy this whole room. His steps were brisk, his face emotionless. He had just turned the corner when he saw Jimin, the brother he found to be closest with. He was staring at nowhere, his back leaning against the wall and his hands shoved in his pocket in a nonchalant posture.
A stray strand of Jimin’s blonde hair fell on his forehead, and he thought he didn’t see him approach when his eyes suddenly turned to him. He should have known nothing got past his sharp eyes.
“Jiminie,” he called the younger man as he stepped near him. “Are you okay?”
For a moment, Jimin didn’t answer. He merely stared at the man with no ounce of his usual happy emotion. In its place was a somber look. “Hyung…,” he started, his tone flat, so unlike how he usually sounded. “do you wanna go to New York with me for a while?”
That was so sudden, Hoseok thought. He tilted his head before putting his hand on his shoulder. “What’s wrong, Jimin? Are you okay?” He asked with worry, not used to seeing him this solemn.
“Just…go with me tonight.”
“I can’t. I have something important to do. But maybe next week?”
He looked into Hoseok’s eyes with unhidden sadness and disappointment as though he already lost someone, as though he was already mourning. Jimin chuckled humorlessly as he stood straight. He slapped his shoulder twice with warmth before walking away from him.
Yet, before he completely stepped out of the police precinct, he turned his head and offered him a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
“Thank you for everything. God be with you, hyung.”
Jimin thought he needed it the most. After all, hell would rain on earth once Agustd resurfaced.
—-
“It’s no big deal!”
Suga threw you a glare from his position in the kitchen. He had been busy cooking since the moment he heard Jackson greeted you. Had he known it was your birthday, he would have planned better! He thought that your day should be fucking celebrated and you should be treated like the queen that you were. Instead, he was cramming his preparation and you smiling so beautifully at him didn’t help one bit.
“It is your birthday! How can it not be a big deal?”
“I don’t celebrate,” you replied nonchalantly, your eyes trained at him and the numerous dishes he had already cooked. It was just the two of you but the way he was cooking made it seemed like he was feeding three families. It was true, though. You didn’t celebrate since that tragic day. You probably didn’t want to admit to yourself how you loathed being the only one who survived.
They said it was survival’s guilt.
You thought it was just the truth. You didn’t want to survive.
“Well, we do now. From now on, we will celebrate your birthday until you turn a hundred years old, angel,” he grumbled as he was focusing on plating.
You chuckled at his ridiculousness, his lips formed into a pout. “Well, I don’t think I’ll live that long. Do you want to live that long?”
“I’ll live as long as you exist in this world.”
“You don’t mean that.”
He smirked at you, wiping his hands with the towel as he leveled you with his dark eyes. “I do, Angel. I refuse to live in this world if you don’t exist.”
And the way he said it sounded a lot like a promise, like he would see it through. The way he was looking at you, the way his dark eyes bore through your soul made your heart beat faster as though it was in danger. “Should you go before me, I will burn this whole world down and then I will follow you.”
You had always known him to be intense. You were always aware of the darkness that seemed to follow him. At the back of your mind, you were aware of the power he excluded.
You were aware. That was the thing, you knew.
But nothing could have prepared you for the true him.
Suga set up the dinner out in your garden. He spent the whole afternoon putting up lights, cooking and preparing as best as he could. He never even let you helped him and just shooed you away when you attempted. He never thought he would put so much effort on someone, yet here he was. Additionally, he never thought he would feel so much for someone. And yet, here you were, the center of his whole fucking universe. You came just in time when he thought his life was coming to an end like the angel that you were.
You stepped out of the house, your hand clutching your chest as you saw what he did. Everything was so beautiful. It was so simple, so opposite of the beauty that money could bring. No, this was the pure beauty of effort, of simplicity, of domesticity that he brought in your life. He brought so much light in your otherwise dark life, he brought so much color. You thought you were living before he came, but you were merely existing that time. He came, and you found happiness again. He came and suddenly, you were no longer alone in this world.
“Happy birthday again, my angel,” he whispered from behind you. You turned around and there he was. He had his long hair combed back neatly. He donned a white shirt and a nice slacks in exchange for his usual dark clothes. He looked so beautiful, you thought.
And the way he was smiling with his adorable gums showing melted you.
This, you thought, this was happiness.
“How come you cook so well?” You asked as you took another bite of what he cooked. He looked pleased as he watched you eat. You thought he wouldn’t answer once again like he always did. You were so used to his silence when you asked anything about him that you were surprised he answered.
“My hyung loves to cook. He thought me how to, said that all seven of us should know all the basic skills to survive.”
“Seven?” You repeated, grasping at another information he was willingly giving you.
He nodded before he put down his wine. “You met my oldest hyung. That’s Seokjin. I have five other adopted brothers.”
“I wonder what they’re like.”
He smiled at you, “You’ll meet them soon, Angel, when we go to Seoul.”
“Oh, we are?”
“Of course. You’ll love my house. Or if you don’t, we can buy our own house-“
“I’ll live there?”
He scoffed at you before pulling your hand gently to him. “As if I’ll ever leave you here. You’re stuck with me forever, Angel.”
He kissed the back of your hand before standing and walking behind you. That was when you felt the drape of chain on your neck as he fastened the necklace. “I bought this because you love the stars so much. This way, you can have it near your heart.”
You clasped the star pendant in your hand, your eyes tearing up at his words.
“Why are you crying?” He asked with slight panic as he kneeled beside you, clutching your face to his worried one. “Did you not like it? O-once we go back to Seoul, I’ll buy you more expensive ones. I’ll buy you a diamond-“
You kissed him.
Without any warning, you kissed him. “It’s perfect. Thank you so much. I love it.”
You kissed him once again, your lips moving slowly against his. And when you parted, you found him looking at you with so much tenderness as though you were the only one that mattered to him.
And to you, he was the only one you had. To you, he was your family.
“I love you, my Suga,” you admitted to him quietly, you whispered at the silence of the night. For the first time, you said what you had desperately trying to suppress. You said it so softly, so terrified that once the truth was out there that he would see you for who you were. You were terrified that he would turn away.
But he didn’t.
“You can never take that back,” he ordered as he stared at you with so much authority. He said it as though in warning, as though should you take it back, there would be consequences. “You can never stop loving me. Do you understand?”
“I-“ you planted a kiss on his forehead, “love-“ his nose, “you.” And finally, his lips.
Suga would make sure you stayed loving him. He wanted to dig himself so deep in you that there was no way you could remove him from your very core.
No. Loving him meant forever. Now that you loved him, he could no longer go back, and neither could you.
Your love sealed your future.
Suga looked at you for a moment, and then he moved. He grabbed your nape, pulling you close to him as he devoured you. His kisses were hungry, but yours were starving. You were driving him completely insane and you were threading on a dangerous line. The true Suga, both Yoongi and Agustd were already fucking crazy. With you added to the equation pushed them further to the edge. There was no going back.
He pushed his sinful tongue in your mouth. It was just a kiss, and yet you were already trembling against him. You knew his kisses had been dominant before, but heavens was this different. It was as though he wanted to own you, and you wanted to be owned just as much. He wrapped his arms around your waist as he stood up, bringing you along with him. His strong hands supporting your legs, bunching them up on his waist. As much as he was filled with lust, his possessiveness stopped him from taking you out in the open.
No, you were only for his eyes.
You were only his.
Your hands were entangled on his silky, dark locks, desperately trying to get closer to him as he lead you back to your bedroom. He managed to close the distance within seconds and gently, he dropped you in the middle of the bed, the ends of your dress bunched up to your thighs. Suga greedily looked his fill, looked at what was his. He followed your body down, plastering his front to yours.
“Okay?”
“Okay.”
And without any warning, he tore your dress down. His knee was in between your thighs, spreading your legs for him. You unconsciously crossed your arms in front of you, hiding your bared breasts from his lust-filled eyes.
Suga did not like that one bit. He growled in displeasure before he pushed your wrists above your head using his one hand, while the other caressed the smooth expanse of your waist. “This is mine. You are mine. Never, ever hide from me, okay, Angel?”
He didn’t even wait for your response before he put his mouth to your breast, sucking your erect nipple with his tempting tongue. You were too defenseless from the onslaught of pleasure he was giving you. You were a mess, a whimpering mess as his hand slid down to your thighs, teasing you with his feathery touches.
You should have known your underwear was not safe with him. And just like your poor dress, he tore down your panties. He smirked at your gasped and looked at you as he brought your wet underwear to his nose.
And heavens, you smelled fucking amazing. If he was insane with lust before, he was feral now that he smelled you.
And once he tasted you?
Who knew what state he would be.
“You smell like heaven, angel,” he groaned, his eyes closed as he sniffed the little piece of cloth that used to hide what was his. He thought it was only fitting that you smelled like heaven for you were his angel.
His.
“I need to taste you,” he said absentmindedly, his brain focused on one thing: you.
Suga removed the buttons of his shirt calmly, but his eyes told a different story as he kept contact with you. He was dashing, so beautiful that even in the dark you could see him. Once he had his shirt off, he pulled your legs closer, putting them over his shoulder. Your squeak of surprise at his prompt movements didn’t deter him. His fingers slid along your core, collecting the wetness on his finger.
“Su-Suga please-“
“Shh, Angel. This is my show. This is mine. So fucking wet, Angel,” he said with his eyes focused on your pussy. You jolted in shock when you felt his tongue on you, a cry escaping from your lips. He licked a path from your entrance to your clit slowly, wanting to memorize you and how you felt.
“Fuck. You taste so divine.”
His tongue circled your clit, playing with the bundle of nerves. You were so wet that you could see your essence glistening on your chin, and yet he didn’t stop. His fingers entered you, his mouth on your clit, sucking, licking, tasting.
He never stopped.
Not when you screamed.
Not when your body buckled up.
Not when you were pushing his face on your core.
His hands secured you to him. You weren’t going anywhere.
“Oh my- fuck, baby p-please-“ you moaned, feeling your orgasm sneaking up on you. “So g-good, hngh-“
And he watched. He watched as you fell apart for him.
Only him.
From now on, it would only be him.
He was kissing your inner thigh as you came down from the high. He lifts his head when you finally stopped shaking, looking at you in adoration and with an unbridled darkness in his eyes. Now that he had you, there was this ugly emotion that pushed him to do everything so you would be safe, so you would never be hurt, never to leave him. He wanted you so fucking tied down to him that you could never leave, never breathe without him.
“Still okay? He asked softly, opposite to how his thumb was drawing circles on your clit, overstimulating you. And you couldn’t move, not with his weight on you, not with his shoulders in between your legs. You nodded, because this was the most okay you had ever been. Here, with him.
“Suga,” you whined, wanting more of what he just gave you. And he knew what you wanted. He crawled up to you, kissing you tenderly, his tongue playing with yours before he peppered kisses on your neck, on your breasts, leaving his marks for people to know you were already owned.
“What do you want, Angel?” He whispered hotly.
“You-“
“Yeah? Do you want my cock, Angel?”
“Yes!” You moaned, his lips wrapped around your nipples.
“Tell me,” he ordered.
“I want your cock, baby please!”
“Then you shall have it, my Angel.”
You heard the buckle of his belt, the exciting sound of his zipper. And then you felt his hardness. He felt so fucking big. So fucking hard.
He lifted your knees up, positioning your heels to his bared ass. He lined himself, sliding his cock in your slit, drenching it with your wetness. He parted your slick folds with his fingers, looking down at your cunt. The bulbous head of his cock slowly entered your tight heat, his eyes full of desire as you watched him watched his member entered you. He looked vicious, his dark hair framing his face, his scarred eye focused intently on you. His movements were gentle and deep- at first. When you finally adjusted to his girth, he thrusted all the way inside you. He moaned so deep, so loud that you felt your core tightened on his member.
Fuck, he sounded so masculine. “You feel so unbelievable. This fucking pussy- mine. You’re mine,” he growled as he thrusted inside you, molding your body to his.
The way he rolled his hips was heavenly, and you were close. His thrusts were precise, controlled, hard. You could feel him hardened even further. He was close, he knew it.
A better man would have pulled out.
Hell, a decent man would put on a condom.
A twisted, devious, manipulative man, on the other hand, would do everything to tie you to him. And if his seed would take root on your womb, then even better.
See, a better man would not come inside you. He definitely would not finger his cum back inside you as you fell asleep.
Alas, he wasn’t a good man that you thought him to be.
He was insatiable.
Suga was like a man possessed, you thought as you winced. The damned prick looked please as he watched you wobbled out of bed. He did make it up to you though by preparing you a hot bath and a massage.
That was an hour ago. He stepped out, remembering the promise he made little Jackson that he would bring him a slice of your birthday cake.
You had never slept as good as you did last night, safely inside his arms. You woke up earlier than him, and you just…stared at him. You wanted to engrave what he looked like in your mind. Your hands caressed his face, tracing every outline with your eyes closed. You were sure that you could recognized him even in the dark. He was your person, you thought.
Someone knocked on your front door. You smiled when you opened the door, thinking that Suga must have forgotten his key.
But it wasn’t him.
You looked at the man with confusion, “May I help you?”
He smiled.
Jung Hoseok smiled, and behind him was a gun hidden from your view.
Epilogue
#bts fic#yandere bts#bts yandere#min yoongi fic#min yoongi x you#min yoongi x y/n#min yoongi x reader#yandere min yoongi#yoongi fic#yoongi x reader#yoongi x you#bts smut#min yoongi smut
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moving on
how was your life after nanami died?
pairing: nanami x f!reader
content: angst and depression but fluff as you go.
a/n: my first nanami's fic. sorry this one's sad, i was really in the mood for angst :(. hope u guys enjoy!
jjk main masterlist (coming) | main masterlist
You used to do everything first for him and others and then for yourself. Nanami Kento was a gentleman, somewhat rigid and almost bordering on strict when it came to his desire to please you and do things for you. From the day he met you until the moment of his last breath, the only thing on his mind was you and completely you.
Haibara smiling at him in front of him, memories of moments that had been buried in the back of his head, his heart constricting in his chest with a spasm of pain knowing what would come next.
“I can't leave her.”
“She'll be fine.”
Every time you cooked, you made enough for two plates. Every time you shopped, you kept all the toiletries Kento used in the cart, watching them wistfully as you stood in line to pay.
“You've been coming alone for a couple of weeks now,” the woman at the cash register began, taking the shampoo Kento used to run it through the reader. The beep of the readout the price stabbed your heart. “Is everything okay?”
You watched her keep moving the men's items around, packing them into the brown bag ready to be used, as if there was actually someone at home waiting to use them and not as if they would come to pile up with all the others that were at home that you had already bought months ago because you were unable to get them out once you were getting to the checkouts to pay.
“Yeah, he's been busy,” you almost mumbled and the woman's hands flanked. You didn't know if she had caught you in the lie. It had been a couple of weeks since you had stopped trying to mimic the happiness in your face and voice when you talked about Kento. You hadn't told anyone that he had died.
Every time your parents called and asked about him, you went into a state of mind you didn't want to acknowledge yet that was unhealthy. You didn't know how much time you had already spent alone, but maybe you were close to getting to the point where you started to see him walking the halls of the apartment and feel his ghostly caresses on your skin.
Every time you saw Itadori's name on your cell phone when he called or texted you, a whiplash-like snippet of pain would run through your body, with your head flashing back to everything that had happened and the situation you had been immersed in for the past few months.
But it was good to talk to him. He was probably the only person who knew and felt the pain as much as you did. Maybe you should start diverting that energy you were in the habit of doing things for Kento and do it for Itadori.
“I wanted to ask you if Fushiguro and I could stop by your apartment this weekend. If you're not busy…”
How could you be busy?
The extra food you kept in tupperware in the fridge had found use after so many months. It was no longer your side dishes. Now it was the food you kept for when Itadori and Fushiguro stopped by your apartment. The bathroom and toilet utensils you kept in the same place as Kento began to run out and end up in the bathroom, having to replace them for a completely different reason.
“Are you guys hungry?” the first time they had come to your apartment had followed something strange. It was clear that the life that existed in that place when you lived with Nanami was gone, and the boys were no strangers to the somber sense of loss and sadness that lingered in every space of the place where you followed. “There's plenty of food in the fridge.”
Itadori, eager to make that heaviness dancing in the air disappear, smiled openly and headed for the fridge dragging Fushiguro with him.
“Y/N-san, surely everything will be delici…!”
Itadori's voice trailed off.
“Wow…” Fushiguro let out, giving up fighting Itadori's arm that had dragged him by the collar of his white shirt.
There were no vegetables or fruit in your fridge. There was no packaging of any kind. Every space in the fridge was filled with tupperware, one on top of the other, behind each one there were more and it seemed like there was no end to it. There was endless cooked food and Fushiguro was sure that if they opened the freezer there would be more food in there too.
“This is-” too much, Fushiguro bit his tongue.
“Unbelievable!” Itadori recovered faster than he did. The pink-haired half-turned around on his feet to see you, his body bowing in a curtsy with an emotion that clashed fervently with your sadness. “Thank you so much, y/n-san!”
Itadori bowed a couple more times before returning his attention to the fridge and pulling out as many tuppers as would fit between his arms. Fushiguro watched him with a white, almost reprimanding expression, but let go the moment he found a half-smile gracing your face.
Half of the tuppers had been opened that afternoon.
Itadori and Fushiguro came back to your apartment several times a week since then and it almost seemed like they lived there a couple of weeks later.
“y/n-san…” the pink-haired's voice pulled you out of your mental space as you cooked for them. Amazingly, the food in the fridge had run out, for the first time in months. That night was the first time the boys had stayed over.
You frowned as you met Itadori's evasive gaze. Worry bubbled in your chest at the thought that something had happened, because Itadori looked terribly disgruntled.
“Itadori-kun, what's wro-?”
The young man pulled his hands from behind his back, a gesture you hadn't paid too much attention to, too preoccupied with the way his body hunched forward slightly.
Nanami's shampoo bottle was in his hands.
You felt as if a huge bubble had burst around you, with the disconcerting sound of a balloon.
“Can we use this?”
The way he spoke and lowered his head made it seem like he was too embarrassed to ask. Maybe he was a little right about that. For a moment you felt anger at seeing the container in his hands, out of the place where it belonged and where it was supposed to stay waiting for…. something.
Fushiguro entered the kitchen in a hurry, as if he had run from the room and took the shampoo from Itadori's hands, sending you a look between worried and embarrassed. The black-haired man bowed.
“I'm really sorry, y/n-san. I told Itadori not to take this. I'll leave it in its place.”
Fushiguro started to turn around even without raising his head and a mortifying sensation ran through your body. The formality he was trying to maintain and the care he took with the way he referred to you made you nauseous. This wasn't how you wanted them to feel around you, like they had to tiptoe around you and be accommodating so as not to provoke you.
“It's okay,” you mumbled, almost inaudibly. You cleared your throat, but the boys heard you clearly just the same. “You can use it. It's okay. Anyway, there's too much stuff in there with no use. It's better that than getting damaged... over time, don't you think?”
Itadori and Fushiguro's looks on your face as if they were afraid you'd change your mind at any moment and yell at them made you think about how tough you'd been acting in front of them about everything related to Nanami. For the last few weeks they had been coming over, the only thing you had shared with them that was his had been all that food. But there were plenty of other things you could share with them, if only to buy their company a little longer.
“You can use everything in the bathroom and in the room.”
Letting go is another form of love, so they say.
And so it was. Eventually, you no longer bought the perfumes and toiletries Nanami used automatically, but strolled in the market with Itadori riding in the cart and Fushiguro on the other side walking with his hands inside his sweatshirt, with both of them telling you what products they used and with the cart fuller than usual.
Soon, Kento's side of the bathroom was filled with all the products the boys were using and you didn't dislike the image at all. It was quite comforting, in fact.
“Ah, Megumi's really bad at this,” Itadori spoke to your right, shaking his head in mock disappointment.
The black-haired man let out a grunt in his direction. “Will you shut up?”
“You're doing just fine, Megumi. Don't worry. When you take your time you can tell you're putting a lot of dedication into it. That's good.”
Megumi barely trembled at your words, his hands moving slightly, leaving an odd curve in the cup of the cake he was decorating. If you or Itadori had noticed, neither of you mentioned anything.
“y/n-san, I'm sooo hungry. Can't we eat while Megumi finishes?”
“Patience, Yuji. You could help me with the drinks if you want to distract yourself.”
“Yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeees!”
It was the third anniversary of Kento's death and it was amazing how a year ago you didn't think you could tolerate making it this far. And you even came to think for a moment that you would spend that year alone too, but Yuji proposed to cook Nanami's favorite dishes to honor his memory and it was physically impossible for you to say no.
The dining table was adorned with various dishes and four chairs, one empty for him.
Yuji was seated to your right and Megumi to your left. Kento would be sitting across from you if he were here…
Many times, the three of you sharing your meals there, you thought about what it would be like if Kento could've lived to spend those experiences with you. You didn't know how the universe or fate did things, because it was such a cruel thought, but you were so grateful that they had inserted themselves into your life.
“I never would've thought Nanamin had such a sweet tooth,” Yuji commented, with a huge spoonful of cake in his mouth. Megumi frowned at him and you felt him kick his leg under the table.
“He wasn't… not as much as Gojo-san, but he always praised me when I made these desserts for him from time to time. Mostly on special dates, it wasn't very often.”
“And rightly so, y/n-san! Everything is delicious!”
“I wasn't the only one who cooked, Yuji.”
“You're right. What Megumi did is a little dry.”
The black-haired man swallowed a grunt, tensing his shoulders. You smiled at the innocent manner of the boys and were thankful that despite everything they got along so well. They were the best thing for each other, and the best thing you had at that moment.
“You did very well for your first time cooking alone, Megumi,” you placed one of your hands on his shoulder, allowing him to unwind and relax a little under your watchful eye and loving smile.
Megumi barely sketched a half-smile that you didn't let go unnoticed.
At that moment, you would have loved to know what Kento would think of being able to see them reunited in his memory, but you kept yourself in the present, hanging on to the conversation the boys were having letting out chuckles from time to time.
Nanami at that moment knew Haibara was right. You would be fine.
#jjk x reader#nanami kento#jjk nanami#nanami x reader#nanami x you#kento nanami#kento x reader#kento x y/n#kento x you#jujutsu nanami#kento#jjk angst#jujutsu kaisen#nanami angst
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: ticklish s/o !
based on this ask !
featuring : cyno, diluc, kazuha
cw : fluff, kinda ooc, not proofread
a/n : did i. just get a request. 😨😨😨 (im so sorry if it's not what u expected) btw i kinda change it to just the s/o being ticklish because i cannot write the same scenario over and over again, so i'm really sorry 🍩🐈 anon! :<
CYNO :
whenever cyno came home from work, you always offered to give him massages. you might think that cyno doesn't think much about it, but he actually appreciates it very much. that's why today, cyno decided to give you massages instead to relief your stress.
"i'm home." he opens the door to your home and greets you as usual. when you notice him at the door, you smiled at him and greet him back. you were about to told him to sit down on the chairs in the living room, but he told you to sit instead. "what? why?" you ask, but he didn't answer. so you do as he said.
he brings his hands up to your shoulders and start massaging you. it started very well, but then he hit a spot that is way too close to your neck, and you giggled. "what? are you making fun of my ability to massage people?" he sounds offended, which makes you laugh harder. "no-i'm not making fun of you hehe." you answered, but you're still giggling to yourself. cyno continued to massage you and you still won't stop giggling. "stop making fun of me, you're supposed to appreciate this."
"i am, i am appreciating this." but you still won't stop laughing, and that's when cyno came to a conclusion.
cyno stops his movement for a while, then chuckles. "oh? i didn't know you're ticklish." he smirked at you. you denied all of his teasings and you thought he would just pay no mind to it. but after knowing that fact, he won't stop tickling you no matter how many times you told him to stop. "you should've told me that you were ticklish sooner."
"it's pretty funny to tickle you from behind whenever you're busy doing something."
DILUC :
you're cooking breakfast for both you and diluc. well, adelinde already told you that you should rest in your bedroom with diluc and let her take care of both of your breakfast. but you insisted on cooking, so she let you do so. "good morning." you heard the voice of diluc approaching you. you greet him back and continued cooking. he walked by you and opened the cabinet.
that's when he accidentally bumped his hand to your sides, and you let out a giggle. "..what?" he asked out of confusion. you shaked your head, "no..it's nothing." diluc ignored your giggle from earlier and took a mug from the cabinet to drink. then, he accidentally bumped his hand again. and you giggled, again. "why are you laughing at me?"
"i'm so sorry, it's just that you keep bumping your hand at me and i feel pretty ticklish. so i can't help it." he paused for a moment after hearing your confession, then poke your side once again. "pfft—stop that. i'm cooking you know!" you pout at him, but it just amuses him even more. "i know that you're cooking. but i just can't help it, my love."
KAZUHA :
kazuha probably found out when you both are hanging out in inazuma. the sun is high up in the sky, and it made you sweat a lot. so kazuha told you to sit down on a rock under the tree with him to relax and enjoy the scenery. you couldn't relax though, because kazuha is leaning against your shoulder and his hair is brushing against your neck. and, being a ticklish person, this position is very unfortunate for you.
"what's wrong, sweetheart?" he sat back up and looked at you lovingly. you let out a sigh of relief as you didn't have to hold in your laughter anymore. "uh, it's just that your hair is brushing against my neck.." you look at him, and he looks at you. he didn't answer and only blinked a few times before chuckling.
"i'm sorry. didn't know you're ticklish." he smiled at you. you thought that the conversation had ended there and you both will continue exploring inazuma. but now, kazuha won't stop poking you at your sides. "stop it—pfft" you want to do the same to him but you know he isn't ticklish. "i'm so sad that my partner was hiding such a cute fact about themself from me."
naomi-nana. do NOT repost, do not use,(with or without permission), do not reccommend or talk about my works outside of tumblr.
#nao.writes#genshin impact x reader#genshin impact x you#genshin x reader#genshin x you#genshin fanfic#genshin#impact#genshin impact#cyno x reader#diluc x reader#kazuha x reader
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𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨?
various x reader ! [bakugou, kirishima, denki, sero, shoto, izuku, shinso, and tamaki]
synopsis: my head cannons and my opinion on which songs they'd fuck you to .
warnings/tw: all characters are 21+, praise, degradation, and my personal head cannons on what they are like during sex .
a/n: don't copy my work ! like, re-blog, and comment ily ! not proofread .
jjk ver. aot ver. hq ver. ft ver. bllk ver.
Katsuki Bakugou
Finesse [Drake]
✰ I live for soft Bakugou. He is a dom but when it comes to you he is kind of soft yet still grumpy.
✰ Pulls your hair.
✰ I think that this song shows how he sort of feels without saying it. That's why he fucks you to this song.
✰ He loves you but will barely say it. His pride gets in the way.
✰ He will be slow and steady during this song, going fast at the end. He just wants to be gentle during this song because he loves you so much.
✰ He will kiss you passionately as he fucks you to this song.
✰ You love his gentle side, that's when he makes sure to shoot his warm cum deep inside you, wanting to see it seep out of you.
✰ He isn't loud or anything, he groans and grunts, too prideful to make any noise but his ego goes high when it comes to you moaning loud for him.
✰ "I... Uh, love you... I love you, so much y/n,"
"You stay on my mind, All the time"
-
Eijiro Kirishima
Work Out [J. Cole]
✰ Most respectful man on the planet, always asks for consent, EVERY SINGLE TIME !
✰ He is a soft dom. He can't stand hurting you or being rough with you.
✰ He has a pretty big cock, which is why he's so soft when it comes to fucking you, he doesn't want to hurt you.
✰ "Watch out baby... I'm just putting in the tip, don't worry,"
✰ He praises you any chance he gets, even over the littlest things.
✰ "You're amazing, just keep riding slow, you're doing such a good job!"
✰ He will leave hickeys, scared to leave bite marks.
✰ He loves old school songs, fucking you to this song makes his mind feel at ease.
✰ He loves you, he will tell you that whenever he feels like it (which is every 5 minutes)
✰ No man can do aftercare like this man ! He will cook for you, clean for you, carry you places, and even message you.
"Do you really want to love me forever?"
-
Denki Kaminari
Swimming Pools [Lloyd]
✰ He is a switch . END OF DISCUSSION . He loves being more submissive though.
✰ He likes this song and fucking you to it because it makes him feel like a bad ass. Kind of like he's special in the moment.
✰ Public places>
✰ He is such a huge flirt when it comes to you, he makes you feel actually wanted by him. He will directly be blunt with how he feels.
✰ "Baby I'm harddd, please touch me,"
✰ WHINES, MOANS, GROANS, WHIMPERS, GRUNTS, and GIGGLES .
✰ You don't mind his choice of music, you actually find it cute that he enjoys this song so much because it makes him feel like the main character.
✰ Pervert . He does not show any shame .
✰ "I can see your nipples through your shirt,"
✰ If he's fucking you, he's going fast and hard. Not really fully knowing how to please a woman.
✰ He's not shy when it comes to toys, he normally uses them on you when he can't make you cum. He never lets it get him down.
"Into my room, I hit her from behind. Doing again like I'm pressing rewind"
-
Hanta Sero
My X [Rae Sremmurd]
✰ Mean Dom Sero>>>
✰ I can just see him using you, not even in love with you. He's in love with your body.
✰ "Lay the hell down slut, I don't have all day"
✰ Not once has ever made you cum on purpose, he doesn't care for your pleasure.
✰ He likes fucking you to this song because it just shows that he's focusing on himself, never focusing on a good for nothing slut.
✰ Groans and grunts but that's it.
✰ He is so goddamn toxic, he may not love you but your body belongs to him.
✰ "Why the hell were you in Denki's room yesterday? Do you really need dick that bad? You're such a slut, pissing me the hell off,"
✰ He despises your cute face, all he wants to do is ruin you. There is no other goal.
✰ Leaves before you wake up, he does not cuddle you.
✰ "Whores don't deserve to be treated with respect," he spat out, venom seeping through his voice.
"A hoe just gon' be a hoe, And a slut just gon' be a slut"
-
Shoto Todoroki
Heavenly [Cigarettes After Sex]
✰ I can see Shoto being a soft dom during this song. Only during this song . Other than this song being sweet and sensual he will fucking fuck you until you can't walk with any other song .
✰ This song is his outlet when it comes to how he feels about you.
✰ He loves you so much, more than anyone.
✰ Degrades you, spanks you, chokes you, and slaps you when this song isn't on.
✰ When this song is playing he will be gentle with you, kissing you softly and running his fingers through your hair.
✰ "I love you. Kiss me more, please,"
✰ He is so soft and gentle with this song, making sure to satisfy you and himself.
✰ He will moan softly for you.
✰ Aw I can just imagine him having his face in the crook of your neck after fucking you nice and good.
"Touch me with a kiss, feel me on your lips"
-
Izuku Midoriya
Banana Pie [Lil Darkie]
✰ He will eat you out to this song.
✰ Addicted to watching your legs shake .
✰ He for sure over stimulates you, sometimes it's on accident but most on the time it's on purpose. He loves seeing you whine and cry.
✰ He loves you, like actually loves you.
✰ Look... He kind of wants to have a three some but he doesn't want to make you uncomfortable.
✰ Moans, groans, and pants heavily.
✰ He is sort of a sadist, hair pulling his one of his favorite things to do. His green eyes go blank, filled up with thoughts of just hurting you. (I'm sorry... I love mean Izuku).
✰ "One more peep out of you and I'll have to spank you, y/n. Cut it out,"
✰ This man is fast, hard, and knows where your sensitive spots are. Basically a fuck machine that can please the hell out of you.
✰ Sucking on your skin>
✰ He is an ass guy, he loves spanking you, there's just something about watching your skin turn red and bruise up. It turns him on.
"Banana pie, so sweet and soft. Never enough"
-
Hitoshi Shinso
Come Get Her [Rae Sremmurd]
✰ Can we all agree he'd tie you up and fuck you to this song?
✰ I'm sensing a rough, sadist dom. (daddy kink ?)
✰ Loves tying you up, you're his little rope bunny.
✰ "Stop squirming, the rope is going to burn your soft skin,"
✰ HICKEYS>
✰ I feel like he'd be into somno . (Me too though)
✰ He likes this song because it's like you're his little stripper that he gets to fuck.
✰ "You better be putting in some work, or else I won't let you cum,"
✰ Rough fucking is all Shinso does.
✰ His groans are... Just amazing . They literally are like angels singing.
✰ He gets super sleepy afterwards so you're forced to take care of yourself.
"How you movin', you deserve a couple racks"
-
Tamaki Amajiki
Girls Need Love [Summer Walker]
✰ Sub . No question . This man would never dom you .
✰ Vanilla sex. He would never get rough with you.
✰ During this song you're riding his face. You're pulling his hair, seated directly on him.
✰ He does do pretty damn good with his tongue...
✰ He whimpers, moans, and whines.
✰ He loves you. You're his total opposite, he admires your courage and leadership skills.
✰ "Y-your speech was good today..."
✰ He also loves getting dominated by you, he loves it. He likes when you're in control.
✰ ...He fanticizes about getting pegged here and there.
✰ Super shy! He never makes the first move.
✰ He always is making sure you're okay, he gets so worried. Like genuinley worried.
✰ His mannerisms are so cute !
✰ "Should I... Uh... P-put it in?"
"Give it to me like you need it, baby"
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#bakugou smut#katsuki bakugou smut#bakugou katsuki smut#izuku midoriya smut#izuku smut#izuku midoriya#midoriya smut#kirishima eijiro smut#eijiro kirishima smut#denki kaminari smut#denki smut#sero smut#hanta sero smut#shoto todoroki smut#shoto smut#shinso smut#hitoshi smut#hitoshi shinso smut#hitoshi shinsou smut#shinsou smut#tamaki amajiki#tamaki smut#tamaki amajiki smut#mha smut#bnha smut#bnha thirst
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