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letoasai · 5 months

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dp x dc Chronos part 5

Part 1 - Previous - Master list

Diana was furious.

She’d known her young uncle for only a handful of hours but here she was, ready to go to war for him. Perhaps that was what her grandfather had meant earlier, his words still ringing in her ears.

I have a task for you, Diana. One i do not think you will turn now but i’ll give you the illusion of choice.

Perhaps it was less an illusion and more her grandfather merely knowing ahead of time how she would react. If Danny was to be believed – and he did seem such a trustworthy boy – his Clockwork knew every path one could take.

She knew there were still questions to be asked, but Danny had been able to tell her a great deal before his eyes began to droop and she insisted he try to sleep. The curtains to the room had been left open and she watched as his eyes happily glazed over at the sight of open space before him. It had only taken minutes for him to fall asleep.

Now she had a lot of work to do and she planned to get as much done while Danny slept as she could.

She entered the conference room with a quick stride, many members already present for the meeting she had ordered via text. They’d learned that some equipment didn’t work well around Danny. Visuals were blurry at best and audio crackled into something indistinguishable. Diana had instead been texting information to Bruce and Kal to look into while she focused on the boy.

“Were you able to find anything?” She asked immediately, not elaborating on which fact she was talking about. She’d sent them so many little snippets that she didn’t really care where they started.

Batman just grunted, and despite wearing his cowl, she could see just how unhappy he was.

“You’re not going to like it, but you expected that.” Superman said, papers laid out in front of him. He wasn’t the only one doing his research.

Green Lantern and Flash were still there, the latter looking like he was having an existential crisis over the topic of ghosts.

Martian Manhunter had also arrived, his frown informing her that the others had caught him up on what had been happening.

“Can we confirm the truth as Danny has laid it out for us?” She asked, taking a seat.

“Oh, yeah.” Hal muttered, rubbing a hand down his face. “Constantine will arrive later, but he could confirm the new High King of the Infinite Realm went by Phantom. Never heard him sound so horrified as him learning that someone had punched a hole into another realm in their house though. Inter-dimensional war crimes on our end are stacking up.”

“Our end?” She asked.

“The GIW…” Bruce began, sounding a mixture of exhausted and livid. “Are completely out of their depth and did not have the authority to just name a species unidentified to the rest of us as non-sentient. If the Infinite Realm retaliates, and John thinks it’s a possibility, it won’t just be aimed at the GIW alone but the entire dimension. That makes this more of a mess for us to clean up than it already was.”

They’d already decided to help, that was what they did. But there was a difference in lending a hand and righting a wrong and taking responsibility for someone else’s fuck ups because they had to.

“Can we prove it?” Diana asked.

“Absolutely.” Kal nodded. “Honestly, for a government agency, their security is a joke. There was a backdoor already in place. We can ask Danny about that later.”

Diana nodded, certain the information would be good in his hands. She turned her attention back to Bruce. “The Fentons?”

There was a certain level of disgust that tried to choke her out in that situation. Danny had been so hesitant, the betrayal fresh and painful. She had lived in the World of Men for a long time now and it had as many delights as it did drawbacks, but to learn what Danny’s parents had attempted to do to him left her burning to seek them out herself.

His mother had lost her privilege to refer to herself as such.

She didn’t care what the circumstances were. Capture and torture with the intentions of vivisection was inexcusable. The target being a child made it all the more heinous. Diana knew Batman would understand without her saying a word.

“Run of the mill mad scientists. They might have been onto something once when it came to energy but their bias took over. Even if they had been correct about ecto-entities, their language is incredibly inappropriate. No licenced and competent science journal would be associated with that.” He stared at her unhappily. “They’re lunatics. The fact that their children grew up in their home is outrageous.” He hit a button on the remote and a location appeared on the computer screens.

A bricked house on a street corner, enormous Fenton Works sign taking up most of the front. It was an eyesore, but not as much as the sci-fi looking shuttle sticking out of the roof. The OHSA violations alone should have had the building condemned and there was no way permits had been granted for any of that construction.

It was a supervillain's dream and not the least bit subtle. It should have been a crime in itself for the town to allow it to remain in a residential area and was shocking that no calls to Child Protective Services had been made.

Yes, Danny was an exceptional being, but Diana understood now all the likely scenarios where he could have died in that house. Danny had called his death an accident, but she wasn’t so certain about that. “They were the ones to hurt him.” Diana said, hating how her throat was tight. She was already emotionally compromised.

“Yes, i know.”

Diana’s attention snapped back to him. “How?”

“Simple reasoning. They are unstable ghost hunters with questionable science. Danny was removed from his home for his safety. Chronos said he needed a guardian. That doesn’t paint a pretty picture.” Bruce muttered. “Either his guardians couldn’t care for him, or shouldn’t care for him.”

She felt her shoulders relax somewhat, knowing that such a logical conclusion should have occurred to her too. She really was worried about Danny’s recovery. “We can add it to the file i know you’ve created, but i’d prefer if no one asked him about that at this time. This last attack only happened several days ago and it is still fresh on his mind.”

Bruce’s eyes narrowed, always a hound when it came to sniffing out abused kids. “This last attack?”

“They’ve been after him for a while.” Diana hummed, though she’d only had a vague example or two since Danny hadn’t wanted to get into it. She couldn’t imagine how he’d just returned home every day to parents who tried to capture his other persona.

“We must factor in his identity.” Martian Manhunter approached them, having been listening. J’onn had been doing his own research the last several hours. He laid down a startlingly clear picture of Danny in his white haired ghost form. A print out of an Amity Park newspaper article.

“What is that?” Bruce frowned, sliding it closer to read.

“The hero of Amity Park. Phantom. The articles are biased and unfavorable, but that is not the current accepted public opinion. Phantom protects the living from ghosts. He also protects the ghosts from the ghost hunters.” J’onn explained, voice carefully neutral. “Phantom appearing other places, perhaps shouldn’t coincide with where Daniel Fenton ends up.”

“A name change could be warranted. If that’s what he wants.” Bruce adds.

J’onn gave a single nod. “It’s a great deal of pressure on one teenager's shoulders. Being a king of a realm on top of that…”

It was silently agreed upon that Danny deserved this break and Diana was going to get it for him.

“It was only a matter of time before something had to give.” Diana said, turning enough to speak to everyone in the room. “Well he won’t be dealing with all of that alone now. We start with dismantling the GIW, appealing the Anti-Ecto Acts, and smoothing over our relations with the Infinite Realm.”

“Only that much, huh?” Flash muttered, trying to wrap his head around the science of ghost hunting.

“Why not get some of the kids involved. Young Justice, maybe?” Hal was rubbing his eyes, not looking forward to the consequences of this mess. “Once he heals it might do him some good to be around others closer to his own age. People he wouldn’t need to hide half of himself from.”

When put like that, Diana could only agree.

“I’ll mention it to him.” “I’ll get the information i have to Lois.” Clark said, sliding his papers into a binder. “If public opinion of Phantom is already decent in Amity Park, then we’ll up the exposure to put pressure on our oblivious government.”

“I’ll take a few of the GIW facilities.” Bruce muttered, but he had that familiar tone that said he was about to let his children go buck wild. “A little recon…” he added vaguely.

Before anyone else could put in their own two cents, the sensors went off, exactly how they had before Chronos had arrived. A paranormal knock of sorts before the very air seemed to split in two, a glowing green portal building around it.

“Here we go again.” Barry muttered, each of them surrounding the portal as they’d done early for safety’s sake but they were less inclined to fight immediately.

As J’onn was seeing it for the first time, he remained near Diana, keenly watching the portal manifest. It wasn’t Chronos who stepped out though, it wasn’t human at all.

From the portal stepped a creature that Diana didn’t have the name for. Bipedal, humanoid, but beast like in appearance. Horns on his head and spikes from his tail made of ice were noticed secondary to his arm of ice that still encased his bones inside. His fur was white, his claws could easily kill and he was covered by a kilt and cape.

What gave Diana pause as the bag slung over one shoulder, the tell tale signs of a medical cross across the front.

“Who are you?” Superman asked, more polite than their earlier run in with her grandfather.

The creature, a ghost presumably, held himself rigid. He was doing a great deal to make himself appear smaller then he was but his gaze was assessing. He was ready to fight if necessary.

“I am here for His Majesty, the Great One.” Was his response.

Diana stepped forward, deciding this was exactly what she suspected. “I am Diana. Granddaughter of Chronos who Danny fondly calls Clockwork. You are Frostbite, come to check on Danny, yes?”

All of his attention was on her now, but he seemed to see what he wanted in her after locking eyes. “I am. Frostbite, Ruler of the Infinite Realm’s Far Frozen. I have come to see Our Savior the King, as his primary physician.”

“He’s a doctor.” Flash whispered.

“Fascinating.” J’onn muttered, sounding a little winded by whatever he was sensing. “He is who he claims.”

“I’m relieved.” Diana muttered, approaching him with a smile this time. “Please come with me and i will take you to Danny. I’m afraid we did what we could but his unique biology left us questioning our choices. He is resting in a private room.”

“Did something happen to setback his recovery?” Frostbite asked, serious over the care of his charge as he followed Wonder Woman out of the conference room without so much as a glance back at the other heros.

“Excitement, i believe.” Diana offered. “He may have been a little too excited to show off his alternate, living form and seemed to forget his condition.”

Frostbite actually snorted. “Sounds like him.”

“I did not realize how badly wounded he was. We had been talking about our arrangements and he was answering my questions about ghosts. He appeared sore, but fairly pleased to speak with me. Given what he had just been through…”

Frostbite grunted his agreement. “His heart is soft, but his will is unlike anything i have ever known. Many of us saw this tragedy coming, but he insisted on seeing it out for himself, hoping for a favorable ending.”

Diana cracked her knuckles out of habit, that anger still simmering. “He will be safe in my care, i assure you.”

“The Great One is the rightful King to our realm, but many forget he is still just a child.” Frostbite said, eyeing her even as she led him through the Watchtower.

“It is not something i am likely to forget.” Not after she’d seen how small he was in their medbay bed. “He’s resting but weak, you can help?”

“As long as he has not taken more damage, i’m sure i can.” Frostbite said, a gentleness to his voice as they stopped at Danny’s room. Diana went in first to prove the area was a safe one but that may not have mattered given how quickly Frostbite followed her.

He was at Danny’s bedside in an instant, having somehow moved passed her without knocking into her. He could have gone through her for all she knew. For all he seemed to be a hulking beast, Frostbite was nothing but gentle as he examined Danny. He looked over any and all work that had been done to Danny since his arrival, and checked the bandages across his torso. He went as far as to grab the clipboard on the foot of Danny’s bed to read, having no trouble understanding the medical jargon.

From his medical bag, he pulled out several small bottles, all of them growing a toxic green. Injections were given to the teenager, and it didn’t seem to matter that he was in his living, dark haired form.

“Has he explained to you what it means to be a halfa?” Frostbite finally asked, breaking the silence.

“Only in vague, teenager terms.” Diana said. She’d been quite sure that Danny’s flippant attitude was more a coping mechanism than anything.

Frostbite just hummed. “Then i will have to fill you in.”

#ghost king danny #danny phantom #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #wonder woman #Frostbite

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ferrstappen · 11 months

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Max the wag (again)| Max Verstappen blurb

love note: I’ve loved the response to gossipy Max and (y/n) that I came up with this little piece 💘

YOU CAN FIND THE REST OF MAX THE WAG SERIES HERE

summary: a new break up hits the paddock and Max and you are the best investigators.

Canada GP, 2023

Max didn’t mean to overhear whatever was going on inside the four walls of Ferrari’s place on the track.

But if the information came his way, who was he to deny it?

He was mildly bored in between interviews and before FP1, not caring about interacting with people because you weren’t there, too many things to take care of, studying and being an intern didn’t allow you to be there with him. Still, he sent you silly pictures of him walking by himself (metaphorically since fans and workers were all over), he smiled at the WhatsApp sticker you sent him along with a picture of you, papers scattered all over your desk, iPad showing the F1 app.

While walking by Ferrari, he really really couldn’t help walking a bit slower as three engineers were enjoying a cigarette while loudly speaking to each other, motor and tool noises were ambient noise.

I heard she’d forgiven him once, after São Paulo last year.

What happened there? I keep hearing about it but i left to Abu Dhabi right after the podium.

Carlos and Norris contacted some girls and left with them or something along the way, kept it under wraps though but now? I think it was too much for her.

Shame, she was always polite and nice to everybody. She even knew our names!

And Carlos’ sister is getting married soon, he ducked it big time. I heard someone in the garage she decided to not go and his family is pissed.

It caught Max’s attention… he instantly recalled the conversation with you, trying to figure out if Carlos and Isa were still together. Clearly, they weren’t and the entire paddock was aware of it.

Maybe Christian could have more information about it.

But the first thing he did was to text you, announcing he had more information.

Info about what? Was your response, making Max’s eyes roll…

Sainz and girlfriend!

Max didn’t hear it, but you gasped at the simple text message. Max was very selective with the information he actually took seriously, and for him to tell you he heard something meant it was probably real.

Shut up! What did you hear? Who told you?!?!?

Max smiled, a smug grin knowing you were dying for the information, but he’d keep it for later, when he was laying on the hotel bed, fresh out of the shower, white t-shirt and shorts and ready to fall sleep. That’s when he was sharing the information.

He was surprised when you called him out of the blue and he chuckled, his gorgeous blue eyes getting smaller, little wrinkles forming, dimples showing.

“Hello schat, to what do I owe this pleasure?” Max teased, instantly taking in your neat hair, neutral make up and deep red lipstick… oh, what would he give to bite your lower lip and have his face and chest covered in faint red lipstick.

”don’t be coy! What did you hear? I heard the snippet of an interview and she sounded so broken it was so sad, but what did you hear?!” You rambled, making Max’s smile even bigger.

“I told you I’m sharing my discovery later, i’ll have to be in the car in thirty minutes or so,”

“I hate you so much, you can’t leave me hanging! I don’t want to ask her directly!” You complained like a toddler, noticing Max was just staring at you through the screen.

“I love you, I have to go,” Max said after he noticed part of the Red Bull PR team approach him. He was waiting for you to tell him you love him too, but your words weren’t exactly what he was expecting.

“Max babe, try to get info on Shakira and Hamilton!”

Honestly, you and Max were a match made in heaven.

#max verstappen x reader #max verstappen blurb #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen au #max verstappen x you #max verstappen fluff #max verstappen one shot #f1 x you #f1 fic #f1 x reader #max the wag

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leclerclov3 · 3 months

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｡･:*˚:✧｡ A little party never hurt anybody….right?

masterlist | part 1 | part 2

✰ Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!rookie!reader

✰ Warning: /

✰ Face claim: /

✰ Summary: in which he falls for the redbull rookie, but not without some complications

f1gossip

liked by randomfan1, randomfan2, yourusername and others

f1gossip CONFIRMED: Charles Leclerc and rookie Y/N Y/L seen getting cozy outside of club Peopl in Montreal where she celebrated her first win 👀

What are your thoughts on the new IT couple? 💭

view all

user27 maybe give them some privacy

user29 I KNEW IT

user37 they’re so cute

user99 i love themmmm

user74 Y/N YOU ARE NOT SLICK

user34 OTP 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼

user66 are we not mentioning the fact that Y/N LIKKED

yourusename

liked by charles_leclerc, yourbestfriend and others

yourusername loml or whatever 🙄

view all

charles_leclerc exuse me?!

↳ yourusername you know i love you hehehe 💙

↳charles_lecler love you too or wtv

↳ yourusername i see how it is

carlossainz55 finally i don’t have to third wheel anymore

landonorris guys keep it down there’s children here

↳ oscarpiastri hi yes i’m the child

user81 OTP

user48 MOM AND DAD

user63 i did not expect this much PDA but i’m not complaining

user92 wowza 😍😍

｡･:*˚:✧｡｡･:*˚:✧｡｡･:*˚:✧｡｡･:*˚:✧｡｡･:*˚:✧｡｡･:*˚:✧｡｡･:*˚

what are we thinking about the ending?? i’m thinking of doing some snippets or texts or something like that please let me know if you’d like that :))

taglist @lightdragonrayne @d3kstar @sadg3 @i-wish-this-was-me @thefictionalcharacterssimp @kissesandmartinis

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fruitmins · 1 year

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Purple Car | jungkook

➭ summary: in which jungkook is a successful solo idol and your his long time girlfriend that he hasn’t seen in almost two months. again. it’s starting to feel like your more like distant friends more than lovers so when you unexpectedly disappear, jungkook goes the distance to try to find you.

➭genre: solo idol jk x reader, drabble

➭warnings: none really. a little angsty and depressing. there’s a couple bad words

➭note: first post🥳 | heard a snippet of the acoustic version of ‘car outside’ and this was the outcome sooo feedback would be appreciated.

Jungkook’s eyes begin to strain as he stared at the blue screen with wide and glossy eyes. He didn’t care how badly he was damaging his eyes. It didn’t even cross his mind for a second. He could barely process the information that was on the screen. But still, he stared at it in disbelief. How could he care about himself when the most important person he cared about was missing?

‘nearest train station’

‘train tickets to Daegu’

According to your laptop that was the last thing you had googled. The last time you had used it being almost an hour ago.

His heavy heart sank. Would the train be gone by now?

No. He didn’t want to think of the possibility that you actually left him. You two had always talked about going to Daegu together. Going out to hotels and spending the days happily touring together.

Jungkook’s throat ran dry as he thought about the word touring. When was the last time he actually spent quality time with you? He had just came back from a month tour, promoting his new solo album. He had spent weeks prior getting ready for it and his schedule became full in an instant.

He felt bad and had always planned on making up for lost time as soon as he was done. He knew that after his company would leave him alone for once and he was set on making you his top priority after.

He always made sure to call you at least once a day when on tour, or send little gifts and things to the house in an attempt to cheer you up.

Jungkook glanced around the room, some of his latest gifts not even out of the box. At first, he was constant with the calls and gifts. They would be sweet and meaningful. But as the tour continued the more tired he got. His calls were short and late at night and his gifts became small and less frequent.

His stomach swelled with guilt at the thought. How could he do this to you? Abandon you, make promises, and give you false hope. He remembered the words he said to you to cheer you up.

‘It’ll be over soon before you know it.’

‘When I get back we’ll have the best nights of our lives.’

‘I promise to call you more babe.’

‘I promise I’m fine babe, everything will go back to normal when I’m done.’

‘Stop fucking freaking out so much.’

Most of the time, his mind was clouded by exhaustion and pressure he forgot about the things he said. It felt like all the nights before he slept was like a drunken blur. All he could remember was being on stage and wanting to do good for his fans.

Well now he remembered. All the dry talks between you two. All of the half hearted things he said while slurring, barely awake. Sometimes almost yelling at you whenever you spoke to loud or to much. It was clear as time went he became more moody and distant.

He felt sick.

On the king sized bed, next to the earlier gifts laid your phone. No wonder you hadn’t been answering your phone. Did you really go the extra mile to leave everything at home?

No, he thought again. This must mean your in the house. Maybe the shower, or you went for a walk. Why would you leave your phone?

He tapped on the screen as it lit up. His handful of text showed on the screen. Your phone was almost dead and seemed completely untouched.

12:02AM

Even though he knew you never took showers this late, he went to the master bathroom to take a peek. Nothing. There was limited places you could be hiding, and he had already checked the place once he realized you weren’t home when he first arrived. You weren’t ANYWHERE. Not even in the guest bedroom.

Now he was really starting to panic as realization set in. He had screwed up. He had played with your emotions. He had left you one to many times. Now you were leaving him.

Now he was feeling everything that you had been for the past month and a half, and every other time a big event happened. He felt abandoned, sad, ditched and empty. How the fuck did he not realize what he was doing? How did he not realize how you were feeling? Why didn’t you talk to him? Did you? Not like he could really remember if you had.

‘nearest train station’

He clicked on your past search to see the exact responds. Shit. It wasn’t that far from the house. Only fifteen minutes to be exact. And you had been ghosting him for an hour.

He sprung into action at the realization. He would just had to hope that the train didn’t leave yet. To just hope that you went to early or that you had changed your mind.

He jumps into his car. Not caring that he wasn’t even supposed to be out this late, especially not in his recognizable purple car. Something even his fans knew was his prized possession since he and your favorite color was purple. In his purple car he felt like any other normal person. Especially when you were in the car with him. Now if just felt empty.

He practically sped to the train station (he actually did go over the speed limit a little), immediately parking his car in a random lot before booking it inside the large building.

Inside, he is immediately hit by a sense of bustling activity and the sound of people rushing to catch their trains as his eyes try to scan to look for you. Even though it’s early in the morning, there’s still a bunch of people.

Even when it’s a little dark inside the station since the sun isn’t up yet, he can spot a variety of posters and signs, displaying information about train schedules, destinations, and services available at the station.

He runs to the board, looking for the word Daegu and the color from his face drains when he finds it. The last train to Daegu had left at 11pm. Almost an hour ago. And what’s even worse is that he couldn’t even get a ticket till six.

He almost growled at the board out of anger. What he wasn’t going to do was sit around for five hours while you would be at a foreign place with no phone and nothing to defend yourself with. Especially since you were arriving at such a late time. He was not going to sit around when he had a perfectly good private jet.

Jungkook didn’t care who he woke up. He was the most successful man under his company and getting even more popular around the world. If he wanted a private jet ready at twelve o clock, he was going to get it.

Jungkook would be arriving to Daegu a big whopping thirty minutes before you, and it would take him a decent amount of time to get to the train station you would be arriving it. In short, Jungkook was seriously cutting it short.

If he was even a second to late, you’d disappear into the sea of people and his chances of finding you would decrease drastically by the minute.

Despite being exhausted and sleep deprived, Jungkook couldn’t sleep on the jet. He couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat. All he could do is refrain himself from tearing out his own hair by repeating calling your number, listening to your voice mail for comfort since he knew you wouldn’t answer.

Once his phone had died, all he had was his thoughts. The depressing feeling of sorrow and loss took over him as he cried his eyes out. He missed you and he hated that he drew you away. He hate that he hurt you. He couldn’t imagine a life without you. He wanted to marry you for God’s sake. He felt like his chest was crashing the more he was away from you.

Finally, after he arrived he had a car waiting for him to take him to the train station. He had requested the same purple car he had left back at home, it didn’t feel right picking you up in an all black shaded windowed limo. Whenever you both went somewhere you took that car. You two had spent camping trips and dinner dates in that car. Sure it was newer and wasn’t his car but it was close enough.

He drove himself to the train station and ran inside the building as fast as he could. His face was hidden with a hat and mask as he tried his best to blend in with the people while still desperately trying to reach the platforms.

When he did, he saw one train already letting off a load of people. Jungkook immediately grew terrified. Did you already get off? Did he already lose you? A million thoughts ran through his head as his eyes started to water again.

He didn’t stop walking till he was at the front of the platform, watching as the people who got off with smiles reunited with family members or friends.

Jungkook watched the train empty, looking through the windows in hopes of getting a glimpse of you still inside. But it was mostly empty. You must of been one of the first people to get off. You must of been in a rush to get away from him. To start over. To leave him like he had done you.

Jungkook’s heavy head dropped, looking straight at the ground with closed eyes as tears started to fall. Grieving over the loss of his soulmate. And he could only blame himself.

He wished he could turn back time and do things differently, but he knew that was impossible. All he could do now was try to pick up the pieces of his shattered life and move forward, even though he had no idea how to do that without his wife by his side. But he would always missing you piece of his life..

“Jungkook?”

Jungkook’s body immediately froze at his name. The voice was behind him and spoke with a shaky voice but he was positive it sounded just like you. Was his mind fucking with him? Did he actually hear your voice? For the first time in a month? Were you still here? Did he still have a chance?

He swallowed a lump in his throat as he turned around, a little cautious. His breathing stopped when he met your red eyes. It was you. Only a couple steps away from him. You looked different. More skinny, you had on older clothes. Not the ones he bought you. And he could tell by your tear stained cheek and puffy eyes that you had been crying for a while. But you still looked beautiful. He missed your eyes, your touch, your smell..

Without giving it a second thought, he jumped towards you. His arms immediately wrapped around you as he gave you a tight hug and held you. His tears were spilling more violently as he sobbed into you. Relief rushed through him as he held you. You didn’t push him away, but you didn’t exactly hug him either. But he didn’t care. As long as he got to hug you. He was scared of letting you go. He didn’t want you to leave, and he didn’t want to leave either.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N.” He managed to choke out and soon enough you began to cry with him, becoming emotional in his arms. “I’m so fucking sorry.” He repeated, the first genuine words he said to you in a while. Your familiar soothing smell with the warmth of your small figure stopped him from having a full out panic attack.

“Jungkook I—“ you started to speak but he quickly shook his head, pulling away to analyze your face. He looked into your eyes with such relief and care but sadness still filled his expression. He was still scared you wouldn’t forgive him. That he had still lost you.

“I’m terrible Y/N. I didn’t realize just how much I let my job take over my life. Our life. I missed you Y/N I really did. I love you. I love you more than myself. I don’t wanna leave you anymore.” He said quickly pulling you back into a tight embrace, and this time he almost melted when your arms wrapped around him. He wanted to say so much more but he couldn’t form the words. It was paining him just seeing you cry.

“Please, give me a second chance to fix things. I’m not going anywhere without you Y/N.” He said, his desperate words spoken in a firm voice. He wanted to let you know just how serious he was about his words.

“Don’t promise anything..” you mumbled. The first proper-ish sentence you’ve said the whole time. He missed your voice, it wasn’t the same over the phone but your words stung. Did you not trust him? Did you think he would abandon you? Cause if so he’d get on his knees and propose to you right there.

“I just don’t want you to leave. I don’t want to leave you.” He sobbed into your shoulder honestly. Jungkook had always been a little shy with crying, even in front of you. But he was willing to expose himself to you. To let you know how he really felt.

“I-I won’t. Leave..” You choked out in a low voice and Jungkook was immediately over the moon. All his worries and fears washed away at your words. “I love you.” You spoke, this time in a stronger but gentle voice as his grip loosened a little around you.

He responded by pulling down his mask and kissing you with starving lips. His arms wrapped around your waist as he pulled your body against his. You kissed him back, melting in his touch as the world around you disappeared. You both had missed each others touch and you practically cried of happiness at the familiar warmth of his lips on yours.

When you pulled away to catch your breath, Jungkook leaned his forehead so it was touching yours. He closed his eyes and took everything in as he continued to hold your waist. Never would he be leaving you again. Never.

— A YEAR LATER —

“You ready for the tour baby?” Jungkook asked you in a gentle and soothing voice when he slithered behind you, wrapping his arms around you and putting his head on your shoulder. He gave you a kiss on your neck as he watched you pack your large suitcase.

“Absolutely. I can’t wait to visit all the different places.” You said with a wide smile as you leaned into his touch. When Jungkook cleared his voice you giggled. “And watch you preform of course.” A satisfied smirk showed on his lips at your response.

“Well I’m glad your happy.” He replied with a warm smile, his voice filled with joy and happiness.

Because what you didn’t know was that on the last day of the tour in Daegu, Jungkook was going to propose to you after singing Still With You.

#bts fanfic #bts x reader #bts x female reader #jungkok #jungkook fic #jungkook smut #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x reader #jungkook imagine #jungkook oneshot #bts angst #bts fluff #jungkook fluff #jungkook scenarios #jungkook x you #bts x army #bts idol au #bts ot7 #bts reactions

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eveningepiphany · 7 months

Text

welcome to the final show | H.S, part 4

my masterlist!

summary: suddenly it’s not just you and harry anymore, and not only do the general media want an explanation, but so do your friends and family. however, the two of you are only just figuring things out yourselves.

warnings: paparazzi, anxiety surrounding leaked images, fluff, comforting, confessions, make out session, sexual content!

a/n: no because i am so thrilled for you all to read this. these two are so much fun to write about. I hope you enjoy <3

(I was on the fence about including smut, but I decided i wanted to! if that’s not something you want to read, a little warning will come up when it’s about to begin. plot wise you won’t miss anything if you choose not to read it!)

———

There’s a certain type of love that comes around once and a while. It’s rare.

And it’s an all consuming kind. One that when you think about it you feel it to the bone.

And oh, had you done a lot of thinking. Overthinking was pretty much all you’ve been doing the past two weeks.

You obviously are attracted to Harry. Physically, emotionally… just in every sense of the word. That’s nothing new for you. And even throughout the points of denial since forming a personal relationship with him. It’s the truth.

You’ve probably gaslit yourself out of it more times then you could count. However picture evidence of you holding hands with him in the homely streets of Italy is kind of a slap to the face.

And despite how cute you think the photos may be, you are still inexplicably panicked about them.

It’s the morning after the photos got posted. And you are genuinely still in shock. You struggled to fall asleep last night after the images first came out— your brain in complete overdrive for god knows how long until you fell asleep.

And this morning you’re ignoring the influx of messages and calls you’re getting from family, friends, and people you’ve met through love on tour.

Several texts from your own sister coming through half an hour ago. All of them including the word ‘fuck’. Shes definitely mad you didn’t tell her this had happened.

Either way, you’re left pacing the length of your hotel room. Heart still near racing in your chest as you try to figure out what to do, and how to handle something like this.

You held hands with him, you remind yourself. You didn’t get caught making out with him… the act for you came across as still something bordering platonic— even though you wished it were anything but that. This could eventually blow over.

You sigh out, leaning against the wall of your hotel, this was considerably more simple when the rest of the population had no idea it was happening.

Now they do, and they have a lot of questions. Plus, it makes it significantly harder when it’s about things you don’t even have answers to.

Harry hadn’t messaged you since everything had happened. If he even knows is beyond you.

But it felt wrong talking to anyone about it without talking to him first.

You felt a sense of guilt. Because this easily will stir up drama for him. Stuff like this spreads so fast, and you’ve seen it happen 100 times. But now you’re no longer in the back seat just watching it unfold. There will be articles, posts, even snippets in the newspapers about it. And whether or not it’s something he’s accustomed to, you still feel at fault. Like you could’ve been more careful, more considerate.

You move to sit on the edge of your unmade bed, staring at your phone that you’ve left on the bench top. How do you even approach it? What do you say to him?

You quickly decide you don’t really want to, at the moment. There is too much going through your head, and you’re still a bit freaked out about it all.

So another anxiety shower is. Which for right now, is your best and favourite option.

Standing up, you head to the bathroom, leaving your phone out in the room, allowing it to continue buzzing while you decide it’s time for some hardcore self-care to calm yourself down.

On the other side of things, Harry is also freaking out. He woke up to texts from a couple people, asking about a headline?

And for people he knows personally to be reaching out about trashy posts on the media, it’s almost always a bad sign.

One being from James, who has been off ‘The Late Late Show’ too long for him to withhold himself from making bad jokes when they present themselves.

Are they even allowed to put that many exclamation marks in the title? Overkill if you ask me. 😪😪

But when he reads the link and sees the image of himself with you, his anxiety immediately shifts from being personal.

[ 1 attachment link] : Styles Has Found His Next Musical Muse, But She’s Actually a ‘Hardcore Fangirl!!!’”

He’s almost positive you will have seen the leaked images. There is no way you would have missed this unless you were still sleeping.

Guilt nearly slaps him in the face. You do not deserve this. He already knows that you’re probably being slammed on Twitter and in comments of these pathetic articles.

And that is never nice. He hates it enough when it’s himself, and that’s after a decade of learning how to deal with it.

His concern for you leads to a text, one he doesn’t want to make, but does anyway. Purely for the fact he needs to know you’re alright.

Because the worst thing that could happen is you having some kind of anxiety attack after reading something online, and not having anyone there to be with you to talk you down. Regardless of how confident you can appear to him, he’s not taking the chance.

Hi love, can you please let me know you’re alright?

He sends it through, and then he typed out another one after it’s been about five long minutes without a reply.

I am very possibly overreacting right now, but do you need me to come over?

Another ten minutes go by,

I’ll be over in about 15. x

He is aware this may be over the top. You could be asleep. You could be just processing what’s happened— since he still remembers the first time things like this happened to him. And it’s a really weird experience.

But he is undeniably protective of you. That is one thing he can’t lie about.

And even more-so, he’s terrified this will scare you off. Because if it’s too much for you, he has no clue how he’d deal with it. Since it’s way too far out of his hands now.

Even though he knew well that this was a easily plausible situation. And it’s almost surprising how long they’ve gone without it happening earlier.

In his own time, he’s been overthinking plenty too. Wondering if it’s normal to want to lay your entire life down for someone two weeks after meeting them.

Maybe if he were 16… but pushing 30… it might be a bit harder to justify.

But somehow, despite knowing how stupid he probably seems, he leaves his bedroom after throwing on some shorts and a tshirt. Going out and grabbing the keys for his car from the kitchen.

Gemma is out there cooking toast, and she turns around to see him near running out the door.

“Harry!” She says, and when he stops to give her a quick greeting she interrupts him.

“Don’t worry so much.” She sighs.

Immediately confused, he frowns, frozen in place, “what…?”

“I’m assuming that this Y/N you’ve been on about really likes you too, okay? There’s no way she doesn’t. So just treat it like any other relationship or friendship you have. No matter the circumstances you met under. If you like her, you like her. Don’t let shit from the media get to either of you.”

Her advice comes just when he needs it, as it always does. And even though he acts like she doesn’t, she knows almost everything there is to know.

A small nod, “Thank you Gem…”

She gives him a warm smile, one that’s always encouraged him.

———

You hear the knock on the door while you’re standing in the bathroom, finishing applying a face mask. Stood clad in your shorts and black boob tube.

And after finally calming down a bit, it gives you another wave of panic. Since after waiting a few moments, the rapping on the door continues. You were hoping they would just go away, whoever it was.

You quietly leave your bathroom, going down the short hallway to look through the peephole in the door.

You don’t even get your eye up to it before you hear the all too familiar voice on the other side.

“Y/N, it’s Harry…” He was a bit muffled, but you didn’t even think as you start unlatching the locks on the door.

The look of relief on his face when you finally peek out is almost palpable.

“Hi…” you say quietly, pulling the door open further, letting him come in quickly.

He has two cups in his hands, and once he’s inside your room, he is fast to place them on the nearest free space.

“What are you—“ you don’t get through the sentence before he breaches the distance between you, tugging you into a hug, uncaring of the face mask residue getting on his shirt.

He squeezes you, “‘M so glad y’alright.”

You take a deep breath. So, he knows.

You feel immediately bad for not letting him know earlier, before he felt the need to come over.

“Did you call me? I’m so sorry, i was in the—”

“I texted you couple times— don’t be sorry. I don’t want it to seem weird I came rushing over… i was jus’ worried about you.”

You slowly draw back, “I was going to text you, I just didn’t want to… i didn’t know how to go about it, i guess?”

He pulls away, “I am so fuckin’ sorry this happened.”

“Why are you apologising? I should be…”

“Why should you apologise? You of all people do not deserve to be dissected by people in the media. Ive dragged you into something you didn’t deserve to be dragged into.” He says, sounding exasperated.

“You aren’t at fault for any of this, H. I feel like I’ve stirred up unnecessary drama up for you…” To this he immediately shakes his head.

“You haven’t. I was just worried about how you’d perceive it all… and fuck— i didn’t want it to scare you off.”

You both seem to realise that you were freaking out over each other. Starting to laugh together, realising how stupid you both probably sound.

“Okay… we sound really silly.” You sigh, moving to grab the cup he’d placed down prior to your very quick debrief.

“But seriously, Harry,” you lead him over to sit down on the edge of your bed with you, “I am still sorry. I feel like I’ve caused unnecessary… assumptions.”

He frowns a little, “assumptions?”

“About us. You know…” you shrug, eyes avoiding him, doing a terrible job at acting nonchalant.

“That we’re together? That what you’re so shy about, hm?” He teases, and you physically cannot handle the way he says it.

“I— well— Yes, sure that’s what I was going for.”

You gently scratch at the dried edges of your clay face mask, and he watches quietly, wishing he could see the blush that’s risen on your cheeks underneath it.

“Why were you showering so early— It’s like midday, I thought you said you showered in the evening?” He asks, out of the blue, causing you to frown.

Your answer comes out unsurely, “I have anxiety showers sometimes. It calms me down.”

He cocks his eyebrow, “Is that why you were literally dripping wet when i came over the other day?”

He pins you with his gaze, and you don’t reply for a few seconds. You were hoping he broke the silence himself, but it was clear he was waiting for a response.

You blurt out, “You make me nervous!”

To this he laughs, “I make you nervous?”

“Not… all the time.” You amend, “Just sometimes.”

You remove yourself before he can ask more questions, and you go to wash off the face mask in the bathroom, while he’s still stifling his laughter.

You emerge after washing it off with cold water, and his eyes follow your every step as you go to sit back down.

“Yknow, Y/N, if I didn’t know any better I’d—“

He’s cut off by a bang on the front door.

You were only scared for a second, until you heard a shrill feminine shout from outside it. One you know to be your best friends classic angry voice.

You were relieved for only about another second before you realised, she will probably break that door down if you don’t let her in.

Oh god.

“Y/N Y/L/N. LET. ME. IN!” You can picture her angry little face. And you’re almost a bit terrified of her.

But you have to hide Harry. Like you have to actually hide him.

“Harry— you— fuck, get up—” You whisper, trying to stay as quiet as possible, grabbing his wrist.

“What is happening?” He sounds awfully confused as you manhandle him around the hotel room, trying to find an adequate place to hide a 6 foot tall man from your fired up best friend.

“She may kill you— she loves you— but she’s very mad at me right now, because I didn’t tell her about,” you pause as you try to label again whatever the two of you were, “us… this… whatever you want to deem it.”

You realise the cupboard is about the only reasonable place, unless you make him climb down the balcony.

“Are you—“

“Y/N! i already KNOW you’re in there!” She calls from the door again.

You tug the door of it open, “Get in!”

You half push him inside it, “I’m so sorry, but just, just sh okay??”

He nods hastily, and you quite literally shut him in there.

“I’m coming!” You shove the takeaway cups into a kitchen cupboard and rush to the door.

Letting her in, she practically storms past you. And you pray to god you can get rid of her in a short period of time.

“I’m sorry!” You say to her, grabbing her hands.

“How could you not tell me something like that?!” She barks, shaking your arms like an angry child.

You do feel bad, because you would also be pissed if it were the other way around.

You try to explain, clutching her warm palms tighter, “To respect his privacy! I wanted to, so, so badly but I just… I didn’t want it getting out.”

She groans, pulling you in for a tight, yet still frustrated hug.

“But you know I wouldn’t have told anyone!”

“I do, i know. I’m sorry.” You embrace her, “but every time we were together there were other people… and I just hadn’t figured out how, let alone talked to him about it.”

She calms down a tiny bit, and sometimes the best way to describe her is like a miniature tornado. Her anger is very quick to bubble over and turn her into this fired up, yelling ball of energy. Yet it dissipates shortly after she lets it all out.

“Okay, well I get that, of course. But… wait are you two actually— have you slept with him?” You pull back from the hug and give her a shocked stare. Her ask stuns you for a moment.

You’re hyperaware that he is listening to this conversation.

What is he thinking right now— you can’t help but wonder. And you have to physically force yourself to push the thoughts that come with such a question aside.

“I— why would you ask me that!” You hiss at her, sounding guilty, even though you’re just throughly embarrassed.

“Because he's Harry Styles!” She exclaims, “who happens to be a very gorgeous man, and I would not be surprised if you wanted— I don't know— in his pants?”

“We are just friends!” You drag your hand down your face. Internally pleading that she stops saying embarrassing shit.

“Whatever you little liar. Acting like as if you haven't said on multiple occasions just how bad you wan—“

“OKAY!” You interrupt, trying to keep the frantic tone out of your voice, “I get it. I really do, and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier. But look, I have so many people I have to call and— i think my whole family also want me dead— so can we maybe get a coffee tomorrow? Talk it over, and you can ask all the questions you want.”

At your proposal, she seems to realise you mean it. And despite the confused look on her face at the fact you’re kicking her out to call what is basically her own adopted family, it seems she understands.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t wanna seem pushy. I was… just also in shock. Tomorrow at 10?” She smiles.

You start both walking over to the door, “that’s perfect.”

Tugging her into another hug, she huffs out an ‘I love you.’

You laugh and give her a chaste peck on the side of her head, “I love you too. I promise I wanted to tell you on my end. I just didn’t want to fuck anything up…”

She nods, pulling back, “I know. And if you need anything, or anyone before I see you tomorrow, don’t forget I’m only a few floors up.”

“I won’t.” You open the door for her, and bid a final goodbye. And once it’s shut, you realise how badly you want the ground beneath your feet to literally swallow you whole.

Despite the embarrassment, you quickly rush over to let Harry out of the cupboard you’d shoved him in.

And as he steps out, adorning a smirk and clearly stifling a laugh, you apologise profusely.

“God— I am so incredibly sorry.”

A proper abashed grin spreads across his face, one that flashes his dimples. Reminding you of the sign you took to the last show, telling him how pretty you thought his smile was. You still think the same.

“Kind of exciting hiding in a cupboard. I never even did it as a teenager.” He chuckles, brushing a few stray curls from his eyes.

“Do I look a little more youthful? As gorgeous as ever?” He teases.

“I am so sorry you had to hear all of that, she has a… she lacks a filter.” You excuse, cheeks flaming as you try to dig yourself out of the hole your best friend has unwittingly buried you in.

“That's okay love, but I am a little curious…”

You frown at his careful words.

He takes a step closer as he continues, “what so badly did you want to do to me that you told all your friends about?”

At this, you completely turn your face away from his green-eyed stare. Because you cannot trust yourself.

He doesn’t realise the dangerous game he’s playing with you right now. Especially while he’s standing in-front of you like this. Tattooed arms out, beautiful face and jawline on display.

“Y/N, darling. I asked a question.” His voice has turned to honey. He’s talking you in a way he never has before. With a tone that is almost demanding an answer, laced with a undertone of seduction.

“Stop it.” You hiss, flicking his solid chest with your hand.

He steps forward, and you step back in response. He backs you up all the way to the edge of your bed.

“Stop being a flirt.” You scoff, finally holding eye contact for more than a second.

His pupils have blown out a little, and the stare he’s giving you is something you want burned into the underside of your eyelids.

“Why? Is it working.” He chuckles, demeanour softening a tiny bit as his hand slides down your arm.

You don’t reply.

“Please tell me, Y/N. I want to know. Y’know I’m nosey.”

“Resorted to begging, I see.” You snort, heart still hammering behind your rib cage.

“If it works, I can do plenty of it.” He playfully remarks.

You try to not reply again, but you’re met with a silence. Somehow he knows you’re going to fill it with a fumbled half-confession.

“I don’t even really remember. I was probably tipsy on some wine. Said some stuff to… the girls. After a show.”

“After a show?” He smirks, “Which one?”

“Barcelona. And maybe back at… another. One or two others.”

“But that’s all I’m saying!” You interject, hoping he takes that as enough of an answer.

He laughs at your attempted defiance.

“Anyways, what even— what are you getting at here?” You ask, because truly, his flirting is heavily confusing you. In every way possible.

“Remember when you told me I had a the prettiest smile?” He lightly grazes your hip with his warm hand.

“I— yes. That was like, 2 weeks ago. What’s your point?” You are biting at your bottom lip.

“Don’t get feisty.” He coos, “Everytime I smile around you, I think of that. And then, I wonder what other things you think about me. What other parts you see of me and consider as pretty.”

“And, can you blame a man for wanting to know what dirty things you’ve said about him to y’friends?”

Jesus Christ. A part of you melts at his words. He is watching you like a hawk, gauging your every little reaction. But you’re clinging to any part of you that’s trying to keep this from heading in that direction. Even though you know it’s not because you don’t want to.

“We really shouldn’t… H.” You state, voice almost shaking with an unspoken need. One that you’re trying to keep from bursting through the seams.

“Why not, Y/N?” He asks, making it sound like a challenge. Causing him to be met with a quick jump in your voice.

You are pulling at every part of your strength right now to justify why this is a terrible idea.

“Because, Harry. I am a fucking fangirl for you. Not in a casual way either, like bordering a little bit insane! It’s horrifying, and very embarrassing! And this is a horrible idea, because I don’t think you understand the kind of—“ You don’t get to finish whatever you were about to say, because he kisses you. With his all.

It feels like he pours every once of his being into it. The way his smooth lips press into your own, fuelled by a heat that is felt in the very pit of your stomach. Your knees almost buckle at the sensation.

You grab his shoulder to stabilise yourself. And your lungs are already drawn of all their air.

In actuality, it mustn’t have lasted very long— maybe a couple seconds— before he pushes the back of your knees against the bed, forcing you to sit down.

He draws in a breath after you seperate, “I don’t care if you have photos of me on your fucking bedroom walls, baby.”

“Could not care less, look at you.” He leans down now, kissing over your lips again in separate, doting pecks, “y’so gorgeous, and genuine. I love that you love what I do.”

You’re in a bit of shock, looking up at him with widened eyes. Because obviously you’ve imagined kissing him before. Probably a thousand times. And that dream has somehow sprung to fruition.

How exactly? you’re still unsure.

“I— Harry.” You say, with no real purpose, clutching onto his broad shoulders.

The way you whine out his name drives him almost insane, and he drops down onto his knees between your spread legs. Giving him easier access to kiss your mouth.

His hands snake around your waist, and he lets his lips slot back over yours.

You loose yourself in the act, your own fingers skating up his back and into the hair at the nape of his neck.

It’s so fucking soft. And you use it to press his face closer to yours. He’s surprised when you’re the one to part your lips and dart your tongue out first.

Skating along his pink bottom lip as an invitation.

He accepts it happily, clutching at your waist while he lets his tongue dip into the heat of your mouth. You can’t help but groan at the sensation, and feel the warmth start to gather between your thighs.

He was kissing you like a starved man. And slowly everything you knew started slipping from the forefront of you mind. All you could feel and focus on was him.

How his muscly frame filled up your senses—and the area between your knees— paired with the glide of his tongue over your teeth.

—((sexual content from here and onwards))

His hands tracing over several parts of your body, even going to pull you closer with his hands cupping your bottom. Squeezing at the swell of your ass playfully.

You bite your teeth down onto his lip and drag it backwards, eliciting a moan from the back of his throat.

Your hips push forward, brushing the front of your shorts on his torso, causing his jaw to go lax.

The two of you seperate for air, panting, and his eyes veer south, looking at where you’re pressed against him.

“Fuckin’ Christ. Look at you, needy little thing.”

You bury your head into his neck, kissing along his sharp jawline. Unable to control your slowly circling hips.

“So, y’willing to share what it is you wanted to do to me yet? Given that you’re practically grinding on m’chest.”

You hum a maybe, and he lets out a deep laugh.

“After Barcelona,” You start, and he works to coax the answer out of you with his hands and lips.

“Mmhm…” he acknowledges, mouthing against your clavicle.

“You had looked so good that night… and I got a little tipsy after the show, back at our BNB.”

“You were in those low rise black pants, and that tiny cropped vest. And my god— i said to all the girls that if you were down, I would happily let you take me. Anyway you wanted.”

“Anyway?” His hoarse voice asks.

“Anyway. Fingers, tongue... cock.”

At the first mention of something genuinely sexual, he almost looses it. Envisioning your spread legs with his head pressed between them.

“But I didn’t just say that because I was tipsy. Or because of the outfit you wore.” You allude quietly.

He can’t wait another second before he’s pressing his already swollen lips back against yours. And hard.

“Want everything off you.” He fists at your boob-tube.

Your body is hotter than a thousand suns, and your need for him is literally tearing through you.

It’s clear this was your tipping point. There was no going back to something casual and platonic. The way your whole body ached to have him was unfathomable.

“Strip me.” You beg, arms lifting so he can tug the thin black material over your head, leaving your breasts in a strapless bra.

He runs his tongue over the exposed skin, hands sliding to the clasp at your back to get it off you.

He moans aloud once he sees you, briefly recalling the times his gaze has dipped to your cleavage in those little sundresses you wore while you were out together, and how he would always be wishing for a moment like this.

He laves his tongue over your nipple, before quickly occupying himself with the button of your shorts.

“These off too?” He confirms, voice gravelly with want.

Hastily, you nod, “Yes, all of it.”

Your sheer eagerness is turning him on even more. You always seemed a tiny bit reserved, so hearing you beg for your clothes to get torn off…

“Ass up,” he asks, watching as you lift it from the bed so he can tug the shorts from your waist and down your legs.

Left in nothing but your underwear, he slides his hand over your front to see how wet you were.

You moan as his fingers brush over your clothed-clit. And you notice now that your arousal has wet through your panties.

“Fucking hell. You realise you’re absolutely drenched, right baby?” He near moans, rubbing a gentle circle over the fabric.

“I—shit— I’m sorry, didn’t think I’d gotten so…” You’re almost a little embarrassed at the amount of arousal between your legs.

He hooks his fingers into the crotch of your underwear, peeling them down your thighs.

Your bare cunt had him almost light headed. You were genuinely glistening, and your slick had already spread to the hood of your clit.

“Darling don’t be sorry. Y’got the prettiest little pussy. Cant believe you’re this wet.”

“What did it for you, huh?” He asks finger running through you, eliciting a groan from both your throats.

In a pleasure-filled haze, you slur out a reply, “You. Just all of you.”

You squirm under his featherlight caress, and take a moment to watch him gaze at you. There is nothing but this look of admiration and desire in his eyes.

“Wanna see you, Harry.” You plea, tugging at the hem of his shirt.

He waits not a second to slip it over his head, and your hands immediately run down his torso. Staying quiet as he lets you indulge.

This is something you have thought of in a million different ways. His chest is built like that of a Greek gods, and his tattoos are an added bonus.

You feel the ridges of his abs under your fingertips, and you trace over the butterfly tattoo as well.

His breath flutters in and out of his nose. But using your hands doesn’t satiate you.

You need him on your tongue.

“Stand up.” You ask, and he doesn’t question you, he just obliges.

You keep him stood between your bare legs, but lean your neck inwards, tongue jutting out to run a solid strip up his stomach.

A rumble comes from him, akin to a growl as you move to of his pecs. Gliding your tongue over the hair-dusted flesh, and enveloping his own nipple into your mouth.

You’d never done this before, since sucking on a guys nipple is less of a commodity… but the reaction it works out of him is perfect.

The way he throws his head back, sharp jaw tilted to the celling, and hair falling from his forehead.

“Oh… oh god.”

You draw back, grabbing his shorts and pushing them down. Kissing both the laurels that sit atop his hips before cupping your hand over his bulge, covered by black Calvin Klein briefs.

“Can I take you out, please?”

“Such nice manners, good girl.”

Good girl. The words float around in your head, and something else inside of you comes undone.

Not sure if it was your self respect… or some other part of your morals. But you could go feral simply over those two words.

You bite down on your lip as you tug the briefs down, watching his cock slip up.

Lord.

You almost salivate. It’s perfect in every way you’d want it to be. A flushed red tip, dotted with beads of pre-cum. And of course it’s big.

For an already perfect man, it’s hard to believe you can strip him completely, and still not find a single flaw.

“Staring pretty hard… you a little intimated?”

“It’s big.” You state, hand coming to wrap around its thick base. “Want it in me.”

He leans down, picking you up by your thighs. You laugh in reaction, him manhandling you into the centre of your still unmade bed.

There was a sense of intimacy that was being shared as he pulled you forward, so you were straddling his hips.

Both of you leaned forward to lock lips, kissing feverishly as you touched over every inch of skin you could. Eventually, both of your hands falling between the others legs.

You stroked over him, and he careful slid his middle finger into you.

He worked you until you were near dripping down his hand, and were scraping your nails along his shoulders.

“Harry— need you…” you beg.

“Want me to take you right now?” He asks, cock throbbing in your hand.

“Yes. I can handle it. Promise. I’m clean and on birth control if you wanna go bare.”

“Only if you’re sure. I trust you.”

“I am… just want to feel you.” You plead.

“Need you to tell me how y’want it first, pretty.” He coos, curling his finger inside you.

You moan in response, and he slides it out shortly after so he regains your attention.

“I—“ you stutter, now feeling empty, “anyway you want, I said that earlier.”

“No, baby, how do you like it?” He asks again, smiling against your skin.

“Anything, hard or gentle, I’ll come either way. Look at you— as if I wouldn’t.”

He pulls your core to his, rubbing the tip against your slick hole, “Then tell me as we go how you’re doing, and what you want or need okay. Want you to feel really good, m’kay?”

You nod, and he starts to sink into you, already pulling a moan from your lips at the stretch.

He on the other hand struggles to hold himself together as your warm walls part for him.

“Fuck, fuck… you’re so tight, Y/N.” He groans, pulling you down nearly all the way— stopping before he reaches the base of his cock, taking a moment to adjust so he doesn’t come before he’s all the way in.

“Mm-“ you whine out, nails digging into the warm muscle on his back, “Harry…”

Once he’s composed himself, he lets your hips sink the down to the base of him. You both take a moment to feel it. Panting, because the heat and the connection you’re both sharing is only describable as euphoric.

“Y’okay?” He sighs out, clutching your waist with firm hands.

“Yes… so fuckin’ full.” You moan out, hole fluttering around his length.

He carefully draws his hips back, pulling out a little only to push it back in.

Just that small movement has you reeling. And you’re quick to realise that this is probably going to be the best sex you’ve ever fucking had.

“Look at that, your cunt swallowing me up. So fuckin’ hot.” He whispers, slowly starting to pick up the pace.

His fingers move to play with your clit, and he notices the reaction that courses through your body the second he rolls it between his fingers.

You buck your hips against him, and he brings his lips down to suck on the side of your breast.

“Mark me.” You encourage, wanting him to leave you with bruises from his mouth.

“Dirty thing,” he moans, fucking up into you, “so fucking wet too. All f’me isn’t it?”

The dirty talk causes you to clench around him, and he picks up on it.

“Jesus, you really are? Like when I say dirty stuff too, clearly.” He grunts.

“Yes, fuck! Please touch me.” You ask, needing to feel more of him, to the point it consumes your senses.

He touches you almost everywhere, with his hands, lips, tongue. All over your body until you genuinely can’t think of anything else.

It leaves your body shaking, and he can tell you’re not going to last much longer going by the clenching of your cunt.

“I’m gonna come if you keep squeezing around me like tha’.” He curses, keeping a fast pace with his hips as you feel the beginning of your high approaching.

It starts to bubble up in the pit of your stomach, “God— you’re so deep.”

“Yea, love? Feel me all the way up here?” He splayed his hand on your lower abdomen and you nod.

“Gonna come soon… please.” Your thighs are going weak from trying to hold your body up, and he notices, flipping you around so he’s on top of you.

The new angle has you biting down on your palm to try and stop yourself from crying out.

“Taking it so well. M’not far off either, baby.” He groans, his thrusts faltering as he bottoms out.

He pushes two fingers past your lips, allowing your tongue to swirl over them before he is removing them. Taking them down to rub over your swollen clit.

The added stimulation is what’s going to tip you over the edge.

“H—fuck—Harry! I’m gonna come!” You moan out, nails scraping down his bicep.

“Good fucking girl,” he prompts, fingers flicking over your clit, “let it all go for me, gush all over my cock.”

His words send you spiralling. And they’re the final push you need before your cunt clamps down around him with a loud moan tearing out of you.

“Fuckfuckfuck!” You’re writhing around him, and he curses at how tight you’re clenching him.

“That’s it, keep fucking going— ride it out on me.” He hisses, hips finally faltering as he feels his cock come inside of you.

Twitching between your warm walls as his stomach muscles contract and ripple with the intensity of his release.

He near buckles on top of you, his body weight pressing against you. And The two of you are panting, still shivering out slight aftershocks of your orgasms.

His forehead rests against yours, and you lean forward to brush a kiss against his parted lips.

Gently, he pulls himself out. A tiny hiss coming from his lips at the sensitivity.

He rolls over, bringing you to lay down on top of him. And you feel the partial heaving of his damp chest below you.

“Thank you…” You mumble out, sounding almost shy.

He picks up on it, “Don’t sound so nervous, darling. Y’were amazing.”

This brings a smile across your lips. It’s safe to assume that maybe things around you are complicated. But actually between the two of you, it’s anything but.

You like him, so much. So you just say it.

“I like you, Harry.”

And he affirms your statement with a kiss to your temple, and says quietly, “I like you too, Y/N. A lot.”

And this feels like an unspoken agreement that maybe the media is only going to get more riled up about the two of you as time goes on, but what you have is something genuinely worth fighting for.

Plus… they already know so, what’s the worse that could really happen now?

———

that was a long one!! hope you all loved it, and thank you so much for the support on this series. and don’t worry, you will definitely still be seeing more of them in the future. 🤍

taglist:

@harrystylesgirlie @purple9950 @teamspideyman @rociolunaa21 @spiritofbuddha @lemonhrry @deamus-liv @Iquvlly @kuntxrgraudunkelbunt @hsfanficsrecss @hsstylesrings @saturnheartz @victoriasigaard @lilfreakjez @mrsvxder @skxawngs @theekyliepage @hannah9921 @shiffpring @multifandomsw @roslastyles420 @slutforcoffein @kittenhere @stylesfever @butterfly-lover @daniizstyles @padf00ts-l0ver @sunflowervol18 @laurxn-robinson @kkr102 @superlegend216 @jerseygirlinca @cherrysulewski

+ all the anons who sent stuff to my submission box, thank you to you guys too, all my love

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sangoundercover · 30 days

Text

Someone asked me how I draw faces a couple months ago and I never had a good example to show so here‘s a little snippet and some text about how I think while drawing:

I always make a copy of my first sketch in case i mess up. Sometimes I try to do a clean up on a new layer, and it doesn‘t always work out. Not because the lines or anatomy is bad, but because i lost focus and with that I lost the gesture/energy and emotion of the original sketch.

Don‘t try to fix what‘s not broken. When that happens I go back to my original sketch and start again, often I draw straight on that same sketch layer, trying to carefully clean it up, staying zoomed out to stay focused on gesture and emotion instead of zooming in and only seeing individual lines. There‘s no need to completely redraw something on a new lineart layer if the original sketch looks already good.

Other factors can play in too (first drawing of the day, not warmed up, tired after long day) So don‘t force yourself into thinking your first attempt has to work out.

Bonus:

Learning when to stop and start over is not just good for faces, it‘s something that helped me improve at drawing in general, be able to draw faster and more efficiently. I started to adapt this years ago when I drew a lot of short comics.

This is especially useful if you tend to get stuck on specific parts on drawings e.g. one part of a face looks wrong and then you erase,re-draw,erase, re-draw -> repeat for an hour and get frustrated. (i think we‘ve all been there)

This is where you have to learn to STOP and START OVER. Recognizing the frustration cycle before it can happen. Re-Drawing the whole face/thing from scratch instead will often get you better results than trying to „fix“ a single sketch for hours. The longer you spend trying to fix a sketch the less likely you will want to start over because you already put so much time into it.

People often ask me how I draw a lot/fast and this is a big part of how☝️ Learn to stop early and start over if something doesn’t work instead of getting hyperattached to every single line you draw.

#how i art #art tutorial #my art

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undercoverpena · 8 months

Text

xii. just say yes, just say there's nothing holding you back

javier peña x f!reader | chapter twelve of late night texts

summary: It's the year 2000. Javi is minding his own business on the porch of his pop's ranch when a text from an unknown number vibrates his phone. The only problem is, no one knows he has a phone and no one has his number.

chapter warnings: the last chapter (before the epilogue), feel that needs to be a warning. two idiots pining for one another. fluff. flirting. continuous romcom vibes. falling in love. idiots in love ✨ wordcount: 4.2k. (i did try to cut it down but she kept growing)

an: here we are. i have been a mess since finishing the draft of this and i hope it means as much to you, as it does to me. this marks the end of the current timeline for this pair (the epilogue will span snippets from their future, some of which i'd love to expand on later when i'm less emotional).

text key: bold is you/reader | italics is javi

Javi’s day begins like so many others.

Light bleeding into his room, the wind’s whispers pulling him from sleep, gently gesturing for him to wake and be one with them.

It does so in soft yellows and splashes of orange as his curtains puffed up and danced—casting playful shadows over the furniture and the clutter that make up his room.

If he could, he’d rather roll over—abandon responsibility and return to his dreams.

He doesn’t, and never will. A silent promise he’d made to himself when he returned—having opened his eyes to see how much slower his Pop was—to do the heavy lifting.

It’s why he slides his hand across his bedside table, fingers finding the edge of his phone—pinching the bridge of his nose. The soft glow makes his eyes sting as they squint. Usually, there’s nothing new, but he likes to read back on a few of your messages—it helping to start his day right.

Today, though, he finds something already waiting for him.

Morning baby, dreamt of you last night.

He doesn’t mean to, but he closes his eyes.

Allows his hand to glide up over his face. Palm flat, the part where it meets his wrist running over the curve of his nose, before resting lower, hiding the stupid, foolish grin you somehow manage to pull from him. The one you conjure without even being here.

The effect you have on him makes him want to pinch himself. Almost does. Just a little one. A need to check he wasn’t dreaming—wasn’t lost somewhere in the most prolonged fantasy he’s ever experienced.

He knows he isn’t from the way his alarm chirps, turning it off with a slam of his hand—returning his fingers to his face, sliding through the front of his hair. Quickly urging his brain to kick into gear, enough to respond at least.

But, the only conscious thought he has is: What good have you done to even deserve her?

It’s a continuous thought. One which runs on a loop in some distant corner of his brain. It there hiding in the shadows since Houston, since he had the chance to hold you, hear you whisper his name as he made you sing.

The thought had been louder since you’d told him you wanted to come to the ranch. It stands in the forefront, prominent, bold. It’s even made a home for itself at the foot of his bed this morning, holding a sign in the same writing your note to him was in:

Do not fuck this up, Javier.

As if he has any control over it.

Fucking up follows him, gravitates and slams into him. He knows he can count the times and run out of fingers when ‘fucking up’ has messed up his plans. His life. His future. A brief population of them arising in cloudy bubbles behind his eyes—ghostly faces of people he’s failed, the scenes from things he’s done, the hand he’s been dealt by choosing wrong—

Blinking them away, he swallows. Taking a breath, loosening the tightness of his chest. Returning his fingers to the keys, he focuses his attention back to you.

morning baby what you doing awake

In truth, he already knows. Knew before he’d managed to rub the sleep from his eyes with his thumb and index—but he asks all the same.

For the confirmation; the routine of it all. Because, even if it has always been hard for him to keep, he likes that the two of you have that. That you both have fallen into this dance so easily, so normally.

When he’d been in Colombia, invited to dinners with Connie and Steve, he’d wondered how they did it. How they understood one another, moved in fluidity around one another. Spoke the same language, even without spilling any words. His mouth chewing his cheek, hand scraping across his chin—attempting to crack the puzzle in front of him.

Now he has the answer. It simple, more than he thought it could be. That it’s natural, not forced, not something you can make happen or choose.

It’s not even that early. Going over my notes, keep feeling like I’ve missed something.

He snorts because he knows you.

There’s not a thing you’d have missed. Too clever for that, too aware.

Closing his eyes for another second, Javi steals a second of the quiet, until he hears Pop moving around, sparking to life squeaky floorboards and groaning walls.

It's rare that he has the chance to text you over his morning coffee.

The hour is usually not one where he finds you awake. Today, he likes that you are. A feeling swarming through his insides, doubling at the realisation that tomorrow you’ll be here in person.

He’ll get the chance to see you smile—the one that both warms a room and makes him feel like he’s arrived in heaven, all at once. A smile that makes it hard for him not to kiss it, savour the taste of it—feel you muffle out his name against it as you both will him to stop and clutch him closer.

you excited to be reunited with your jacket Mi chaqueta favorita y mi persona favorita. look at you learning quickly It’s easy when your professor promises you things if you do well. what does he promise hermosa Filthy things, Javi. sounds like hes rather inappropriate Oh he is. Asks me what underwear I'm wearing all the time. But he does have a great tongue, so it's worth i.

It’s hard to muffle his laugh.

A sound that he thinks the radio will have to compete with when you’re here, at the table—enjoying toast and coffee.

He’ll be lost in it, even if no one else is. Watching how your laugh shimmers across your face, witnessing the explosion of light that it brings. Like a firework, illuminating everything in its path.

Running his hand over his chin, he bites back a grin. One spawned from knowing he’ll have that in the next few days. You, in his home, laughing. It able to radiate and dance around his things and the things he’s always known.

Javi would have the chance to be able to touch you, pull you close by the legs of the chair, and bury his nose into your hair, smelling the sweetness of your shampoo, as he enjoys the feel of your giggle vibrating through your bones to his—the bass of it making his heart skip in his chest.

Fuck. He misses you.

It crawling up him, having softened him—scraped down and smoother over the hardened edges that the years of corruption and failure had created.

Licking his lips, he’s about to reply when he spots his Pop glancing at him over the top of the newspaper. Brow arched, half his face hidden, but Javi isn’t fucking stupid, he knows he’s grinning at him.

“What?”

“You okay, Javi? You’ve usually started by now?”

“Sí, lo sé. I’m going, Pop. Alright.”

One of the earliest things Javi learnt was that you’re a planner, an organiser.

He was able to witness it in small doses in Houston. Even if you had tried to squirrel it away, hide 85 from him.

He supposed, from the thing you’ve told him, you had to be. Plus, he imagined—like his former profession—it was almost a requirement. A need for a roadmap always there, a backup plan just in case of extremes.

So, for how much planning the two of you (you, mainly) had done the first time, the second time, in comparison, seemed to be chaos. You mumbled dates, times. There was a rough, outlined plan that made even Javi feel unorganised. If anything, it would be better to call it a loose, barely even well-organised idea, never mind a plan.

He had asked—numerous times during your phone calls.

Rather than helping him, your voice crooned down, begging for a clue instead, claiming, "We have days to talk about this, baby", but not many days to "Finish this crossword".

And fuck was he a slave to the way you whined his name when he interrupted the puzzle to ask something about dates, length of stay, and airport pick-up times.

Now, though, days is tomorrow—and Javi hasn’t got a fucking clue what he’s doing.

He’s aware he’s picking you up from somewhere, at an unknown time, with you on an unannounced flight.

But, the stress is mounting, beginning to grow, prickling and wrapping itself around his back.

He supposes the lack of a concrete plan is why it’s so easy for it to come apart. It fraying, all toyed and played with by his fingers and avoided by your own.

Because it was never much to begin with.

In your defence, you couldn’t have banked on Pop finally being able to book in his truck at the stop. The one which hadn’t sounded the same in a while, never mind acted like it—the one very much needing to be fixed if Javi was going to continue to have a good relationship with his father.

It’s why he knew it needed to be done. He just couldn’t wrap his head around why the universe would decide now was the time it would align it to be fixed.

Selfishly, he had wanted to tell his Pop no when he’d interrupted him to tell him. Wanting to say they’d sort it once you’d gone back—because he needed his vehicle.

Because Javi knows the people in this town, and knows how the universe works when it involves him. The truck wouldn’t be in the shop 'just for today'—it would be days. It would bleed out and ruin his plans of showing you all the places he loves in his hometown. His Pop needing to run ‘small errands’—ones that never remained as such when they involved Chucho Peña.

He knows this because if they actually needed something urgently, he’d be the one sent. Just like when he was a kid, and his bike wheels cut through dirt and fields.

But he bit his tongue all the same, placing the keys in his Pop’s hand so he can do what it is he needs to do. His arms crossed over, gripping his biceps' backs as he watches the tow take away the truck.

Knowing deep down, once he had you here, he wouldn’t care if the truck was even in the state, as long as he had you.

“How many errands you runnin’ anyway?”

Adjusting his hat, his Pop gives him that look. The one which tells him he hasn’t got a clue and not to stress. A look he finds he despises more now, post-Colombia, than before. “Don’t worry, mijo. I’ll fill her up for you.”

Except he won’t.

His Pop always forgets something. Usually, the thing most essential. It's why, naturally, Javi had factored it into his new plan, the one he’d been scrambling together when he mucked out the stable.

What he had yet to bank on was that someone above was laughing at each plan he made. His fresh, newly organised one came apart again, before he'd even begun to head back to the stables.

This time, in text form. Your message arriving, punching into the gentle breeze and sunny mid-morning.

Okay, I’m leaving the motel now, wish me more than luck because I need this.

His feet come to a standstill. Dust kicked up, swirling around his calves as he read your message once, twice—

Then, his stomach drops, not just to the floor, but out of his body. Exiting out of him so quickly, he’s sure the rest of his organs have whiplash from it vanishing so quickly.

Heat spreading, sweat building, his body suddenly being consumed by panic—its tendrils sliding around his ribs, pecking at his lungs and heart as he tries to steady his breath.

I thought it was tomorrow No, today, silly. when did you fly in Yesterday, I told you this. The interview is today.

He’s unsure if his fingers have ever typed so fast, sweat beading on his brow—damp on his palms. Because no, you didn’t. Which meant—

“Fuck.”

It rips from his throat and flutters over the field, his eyes squinting, head turned in the direction of his truck—the one being sparked to life. Tyres sounding in the gravel. His feet not quick enough, not enough to outrun a vehicle—

“Fuckin’ fuck.”

youre gonna do amazing baby

I think I’m going to be sick. Which is normal right?

just try to breathe and remember that no one can do this job like you

I think the other people up for it would beg to differ, but I like how you support me.

tonight we’ll be celebrating

How are we planning on doing that?

i think i’ll buy you wine and then i’ll make your toes curl

Have to get the job first, Javi.

you will

And you’d need to know what time I’m arriving since you forgot it was today.

didnt forget baby

You handsome liar. I have to go, so we will resume this after I’ve gone and wowed them.

just be you. its how you wowed me

Javi is panicking.

His hand almost dropped the house phone on the last call, a cramp forming from ringing every place he suspected his Pop would visit.

And, because this was him, none of them had seen him in days—never mind today. They all sweetly asked if he was okay, like he had time to kill—had the time to catch up and hear how their son wanted to be a detective or their daughter was single.

He knew he could have been more polite, could have been nicer to some of them. Imagining your face when he tells you, that soft way you say his name, almost full of judgement and disappointment, but not quite able to embrace it fully.

When he replaces the handset, he swears. Fingers massaging the side of his temple, outwardly silent—but inwardly loudly—ticking, his feet taking him outside before he begins to pace.

Usually, listening to the sounds of the wind in the trees helps.

Today, he's not sure anything can. Thoughts of you standing at the airport, sad, abandoned, feeling forgotten hammer against his skull. His chest tightens at the thought, guilt eating away at his insides as each little sound makes his head lift and his ears turn.

But, Javi isn't able to move when he hears the noticeable sound of wheels in the gravel and dirt. Almost worried he'd made it up, dreamt it, until he hears the horn.

His horn.

Wiping his arm across his forehead, Javi takes strides out of the distance—it takes all of his willpower not to check his phone. Not repeatedly check it, anyway.

Because you’re being quiet. Again.

Have been for the last two and a bit hours.

Admittedly, he’s not sure how long these things take, but the gap between your last message and now has expanded to the point that worry has begun to set in. What if you’re waiting for him? His mind pulls at the doubts he's forced into the darkness. What if you’ve changed your mind? His thoughts attempting to run away from themselves. His fingers and muscles, tendons and bones flexing as he turns the corner of the back of the house.

The stress, panic and worry merge inside of him, all beginning to knot. Clumping. Mashing with the earlier excitement to create a concoction that makes want to vomit.

Mad at himself that he should have known something would happen. His gut instinct off, having been tricked by how lovely the morning was, future days lulling him into a false sense of security.

He should know better. Javi had become well acquainted with things going explosively wrong in Colombia. He’d just hoped he could have spared it from touching you, from tainting what the two of you have.

The dismay flickers down his legs as the soles of his boots crunch loudly against the ground, steps all heavy, weighted. Trying to focus on the usual dread he feels at whatever the fuck his Pop has brought back with him this time. Discount slabs, sacks of tomatoes, new fence pillars—Javi has even seen him come back with more wooden slats to fix something he hadn’t even known was broken. Rather than paying attention to the longing and sadness he’s secretly feeling.

When he turns the final corner of the house, he sees it—his vehicle. His eyes spot the lights cutting out and then that the bed of his vehicle is empty—a thank fuck falling from his lips in a whisper.

Relief barely has a chance to soak in when Javi spots that his Pop isn’t alone. Annoyance flares, shooting through him as his jaw tightens. Until he narrows his eyes, attempts to look closer through the dirt-stained window, seeing what looks like a woman. Their head turned—a side profile that looks—

Swallowing, he blinks.

Must be a trick of the light, he thinks, shaking his head, wiping the sweat, sun and dirt from his eyes.

It has to be a mis-sight. His brain addled from worry, it now making him lose his mind.

Purposefully blinking it away, wincing at the brightness when he hears the noise of a door opening, then another—trying to stop his heart from getting away from itself, hammering and thumping as he watches his Pop step out, hoisting the back of his jeans up as he nods at him.

“Mijo.”

There's a smirk. It scratched into his Pop’s face—yet, his voice is so normal, all forced, a pretence. It not matching the look on his face. The one all mischievous and devious. A devilish smirk outlined by white hair and a twinkle in his eye that Javi cannot remember the last time he’s seen.

It’s why his attention drifts and slides, watching the other person—you—move around the back of the truck.

He’d spot you anywhere.

His body comes to the conclusion, before his brain. His shoulders drop—all of the stress melting—taking worry and annoyance with it. Something hooks in the corner of his lips, dragging them up to his cheek as he watches you glance at his Pop with a smile. That same one he hasn’t stopped picturing, dreaming of—before you land it back on him.

You’re here.

You.

Today.

Your chin dips, but he sees how high your cheeks are on your face as you watch him through your lashes. The two of you move, crossing the ground, cutting through the path to meet somewhere in the middle. Gravel crunching, dirt swirling like smoke at both of your feet.

“Surprise, charmer.”

He snorts, not stopping until his arms wrap around you, colliding with you. It doesn’t hurt. If anything, he realises how much he’s been hurting since he let you get on the plane to begin with. Pieces of him sliding back into place—healing, fixing.

“How?” he asks, whispering it against your face.

Unwrapping his arms, he watches you stare up at him before he glances at his Pop—grin smothered by wiry white all over again, paused at the bottom of the stairs to the house, tipping his hat:

“She made me promise, mijo.”

Shrugging, you wipe your thumb across your bottom lip. “I did. Don��t be mad.”

“Mad?” he asks, cupping your cheek and tilting your head. “I’m not… not even a little bit. I’m just…”

“I know I didn’t get the Houston job.”

His heart breaks a fraction, hand rubbing your arm, hearing the door to the ranch open and close in the distance. “I know, baby. You’ll—“

“But I did get offered the one from today.” Nodding, you smile before your teeth bite down on your bottom lip. “Apparently, I am very impressive—was going to be poached, anyway. Seems my skills are transferable enough to work for imports. A job that, I'm not sure if you know, wouldn't be in Houston. Like I let you believe.”

He feels a frown beginning to appear—attempting to weave itself through the joy already etched into his face. The rest of him trying to catch up, trying to piece together the nuts and bolts, the corners and edge pieces of the puzzle from the statements you’ve drip-fed him since you first told him about it.

“The job, Javi, would be here. At the World Trade Bridge.”

He feels it, the way his face smooths as he processes it. Acknowledges it. A bubble, a flutter of wings, appears in his chest, a new one arriving with every nugget he manages to process.

“He asked me if I fancied relocating—when he offered me the interview. It wasn’t quite Houston, something he apologised for. But, here, in Laredo. I had the interview this morning. If I accept, I’d be here, Javi. in Laredo. Which I know is a lot closer than Houston, so…”

“Baby.”

You press your palm to his chest. “I rang for you—to tell you. I had wanted to keep it to myself initially, just in case. Then, when I was helping Aish pack, she said it would be a nice surprise. Then, the guilt got too much. But I was a bit too excited to see who it was on the phone… and your Dad says hello in the same way, and by the time I’d told you—him—everything, your Dad was offering to pick me up, to bring me here.”

His face softens, a smile widening. Practically engulfing every other thing his face could even show, one that hurts it's so large.

“I can completely understand if you’d rather us keep some miles between us,” you smile. “Thought, though, if you’re as serious about me as I am about you, we could make the decision together.”

His hand cups both cheeks, brushing his thumb over your skin. “I want you.”

“I want you too.”

“Take the job, move here—move in—“

“Your dad already offered that,” you laugh, tipping your head forward, forehead pressing to his chest.

And, it's likely you can hear how his heart is hammering—maybe even feel it through his shirt. All loud and heavy. It doing it all for you.

“And, as lovely as the offer is, I get a nice relocation package—and I think, don’t be upset, that I’d want my own place. Just for a bit.”

Dragging his thumbs across your cheek. He stares into your eyes, aiming to burn the words he’s about to say into them. “How could I be upset when I’d have you here, cariño?”

Your lips slide into your cheek, a shy smile forming. “We could do those dates you talked about? I know I would see you all the time anyway, but I think I’ve been reckless enough lately. I’d like to be a tiny bit sensible, and do the proper dating thing where I cook for you at mine, and you invite me to sleep over at yours. Y'know? Just for a short time.”

“So, are you…”

“I haven’t accepted, not yet. Like I said, I wanted us to make that decision. As a couple. I… I guess I also wanted to check I still wasn’t too much?”

He lets out a breath, fingers sliding further up your cheek.

Unsure how he can even find words enough to explain how not too much you are. But he doesn’t try. Instead, he closes the gap, pressing his nose to yours, hoping his lips tell you instead.

Feeling you grasp at him, pulling him close. Feeling warmth, fire and adoration erupting in his chest when your mouth moves against his, soft, all perfect. Utter fucking bliss. A kiss he's longed for and missed so much, he's sure he's floating.

Only stopping when you pull back, hand sliding round to his chest—grinning, all teeth and sparkling eyes.

“I should go accept, right?”

He kisses you again, shorter, more chaste, but with the same abundance of emotions. “Lemme show you where the phone is.”

“The infamous one?”

His hand rises to take yours, looping his fingers, finding you fall into place beside him—just as easily as the two of you had done in Houston. “The very one. Can show you where I hit my knee that time.”

“Oh, when you almost cried?”

“Ay, cariño. None of that.” His head shakes.

Fuck is it something to hear you laugh. How it leaves your lips, your other hand wrapping around his arm, head burying against him as he tilts his head to watch. Knowing he’s grinning, knowing he’s never been happier.

He’s also pretty sure the entire ranch just began smiling, too.

Since the first time he heard your voice, his dreams have all been so similar.

They are full of white sheets—soft-yellow sun rays dancing in from the outside through his blinds. They’d illuminate the bed, showcasing the outline of a person that he always knew was you.

This morning, Javi woke to find it wasn’t a dream.

You're curled up close to him, thigh over his. His off-white sheets tucked around your body—face bare, stunning and pretty, lashes resting against your cheeks.

“Why’re you watching me sleep?”

Smirking, he traces his hand over your hip, giving you a pinch. “Jus’ admiring.”

“Can you do that at a sensible hour?”

He places a kiss on your nose, feeling your sigh against his skin before your hips move under his palm as you try to get closer. The barest of gaps between the two of you—as there had been since your arrival yesterday.

“For me, this is a sensible hour.”

You groan, deep—almost playful. “Shh, baby. Someone kept me awake late.”

“Some else didn’t seem to mind. I have teeth marks on my hand to prove it.”

He feels you hum, turning your head to look up at him before pressing a soft kiss to his chin. One that makes his throat dry, forces his hand to tighten its hold on you. The usual knot inside him smoothing out, everything in his veins calming. A feeling he had in Houston, which is now humming just as prominent here.

The logistics for your move were glazed over last night, once you’d accepted, once his Pop had handed him a bottle of wine with a wink before 'heading out'. The two of you on the porch, wine in your hand and beer in his head. Tomorrow, Javi? We can plan it all tomorrow. Hand sliding over his. Just want to enjoy being with you right now, especially when we have forever.

Tracing a circle on your hip, he traces his eyes over your face. “I’m so glad you mistyped that number, cariño.”

His words make your eyes open, watching your pupils swallow the colour—seeing how you focus, how your eyes begin to shine, and your smile begins to widen.

Hand rising to his cheek, your fingers delicately strumming his skin. “So glad you were intrigued about my bad date.” Your fingers pause, stopping at the side of his lip. “And that you were bored and lonely.”

Your eyes slide from his eyes to his lips and back again. “I’m even more glad to be yours, baby.”

Groaning, he slides his hand to your thigh, hooking it over his leg. “Say that again.”

“I’m yours.”

His nose slides against yours, lips lazily capturing yours. “Again.”

“Yours,” you whisper, mouth brushing his. “All yours.”

“Fuck, you’re perfect.”

Sliding your fingers into his hair, you ghost a smile across his lips. “I am, aren’t I?”

AN: there are so many people to thank, but I'll save that for next week. for now, thank you for reading. for trusting me. for trusting that i was going to give them the ending they deserved. i know we have moments from their future next week, but for now, i love you, i love them, and i love that i had the chance to tell a story i really wanted to tell. this story made me feel like I was a part of the fandom for the first time since I really joined, and I hope you’ll all continue to be as loving and wonderful for the next thing I write.

anon inbox is now open for anyone who wants to scream love (hopefully) but I won't post anything with spoilers until Thursday 7pm BST.

#javier peña x reader #javi peña x reader #javi peña x you #javier peña x you #narcos x reader #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #javi pena x reader #narcos javier x reader #narcos javier #pedro pascal x reader #narcos fanfiction #pedrostories #mm: late night texts #javier peña fanfiction #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfic

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part: epilogue pairing: paige bueckers x oc word count: 8.2k c/w: sexual content, language, injury a/n: .... surprise!!!! i want to give the biggest shoutouts in the world to @imaginespazzi, @iminlovewithpaigebueckers, and @sellaspeaks. this fic truly could not have happened without them. i cannot tell you how many times i have bothered them with new ideas or snippets and they've offered their help. i <3 them.

AUGUST 2, 2022

I hate this hospital.

It’s enormously shitty to say. It’s state of the art, clean, smells vaguely like a hospital might. All in all, it’s an excellent facility.

I still fucking hate it.

It’s suffocatingly quiet. I clear my throat to break the silence.

“Do you, uh… do you need water?”

Paige stares ahead blankly, shaking her head. “Are you hungry?” I fidget uncomfortably. She’s not crying or angry or really anything at all. It’s disconcerting, to say the least. She shakes her head again wordlessly. I chew the inside of my cheek, wishing I had the right words to say to her, but I just don’t.

The pickup game had been just like any other. Paige would take any opportunity to hoop. You could tell she felt most at home with the ball in her hands. She looked the most natural with it there, too. Sometimes, when she couldn’t think, she’d shoot a mini ball into the hoop on the back of her door, or dribble a ball between her legs, much to the chagrin of my downstairs neighbors. But I loved that about her. I loved watching her play the sport she loved, so I pretended to let her convince me to come to her pickup games. She’d drag me to these things and I’d sit with a book in my hands or my laptop perched on my legs, but my eyes were on her the whole time - watching her smile and laugh and pretending as though those two things weren’t my entire world.

I was watching her when she went down again.

It was like deja vu. Like watching her get hurt last December all over again. She was writhing at the floor, grasping at her knee, and I was at her side instantly.

She’d tell me later that she’d felt her ACL tear, felt it pop and just about heard it, too. She’d tell me that the second she felt my hand at the small of her back, the pain was more or less gone. I’d laugh at her tearfully, resisting the urge to kiss her and finding it impossible not to love her and her stupid heart.

Now, I watch her wallow in her own thoughts, assuming the worst, hoping for something maybe a little better. She hasn’t moved since we came out of the MRI room to sit in the waiting room. Caroline and Azzi and a couple of the other girls are here, too.

Suddenly, Paige’s hand inches towards mine. She doesn’t glance around to see if someone is watching, so I don’t either. I just take her hand quietly, intertwining our fingers and squeezing. Carefully, we shift so that her head can rest against my shoulder, and her good leg bends to plant on the couch, resting against my body. I bring our hands to my mouth, pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles, and rub soothing circles onto her hand with my thumb.

And though Paige hasn’t said anything, I can tell from the way she grips my hand that she’s fucking terrified.

A pang runs through me. Is this what it had been like last time? When I’d just left the next morning?

I hadn’t been there for the MRI.

I hadn’t been there for her surgery. She’d texted me that day to tell me happy birthday.

Fuck. I don’t deserve her.

I glance down at her, and her blue eyes are trained on me. I place a kiss, one meant just for the two of us, on her forehead. I really, really don’t deserve her. I vow to myself, and to her, that I’ll stay until I do.

OCTOBER 20, 2022

“Go back to sleep.”

“But it’s my birthday.”

“You never wake up earlier than 9 A.M.,” I groan, smothering Paige’s face with my hand. I feel something wet on the inside of my palm, and I shoot up to a sitting position, my eyes wide with disbelief. “Did you just lick me?” I demand. Her smile is sheepish, but there’s a childlike, triumphant glimmer in her eyes. “You’re up, aren’t you?” She reasons.

I smack her forehead lightly with the heel of my palm. “You’re so stupid,” I chide, but I let her pull me into her and push my body against the bed again. She hovers over me, her hair curtaining our faces as she grins down at me. I fight a smile as I look back up at her, taking in the stark blue of her eyes, slightly puffy from sleep, her full bottom lip. “You want a picture?” She teases, watching me watch her. “Shut up,” I tell her softly, then loop an arm around her neck to pull her lips to mine.

God, I love kissing this girl.

I sometimes think that if I did nothing but kiss her, just rolling around in her sheets that smell like her, getting to kiss those lips that taste like her, I’d feel pretty fulfilled with what I’d done in life.

She pulls away, and I make a face at her. “You have morning breath,” I inform her.

Paige smiles down at me, knowing what I really mean.

Kiss me again and never stop kissing me.

She pecks my lips again, pulling back to look at me.

“Your eyes are so fuckin’ pretty,” she mumbles. She traces my lips with her finger. “Damn. I really get to wake up to you everyday?” I laugh hoarsely, shrugging to the best of my ability from where I’m trapped in her arms. “That’s what they’re saying,” I laugh, and I reach up to kiss her again, several soft, repeated pecks as my hand steadies her jaw.

She sighs, separating us again, but she keeps her eyes on my face. I shift uneasily. “What? Do I have something in my teeth?” I ask. She shakes her head, eyes glued to mine.

“I love you.”

My heart stops. And then it starts again, beating a million miles a minute.

“What?” I breathe.

She chuckles, tugging on a curl of my hair. “I said ‘I love you’, dumbass.”

I recover from my shock, slowly grinning at her. We’d been skirting around this for months. We both knew, possibly since the day we met, that we were head over heels. Ruined for life, well and truly smitten, and any other possible iteration of the words ‘hopelessly in love’. But saying it out loud felt… scary? Maybe, I don’t know.

It also felt like such a mundane way to describe how I felt about her.

I mean, how could those three words possibly encapsulate the way I wanted to bottle up the sound of her laughter? The way her touch made me feel whole, the way I felt that in this life and in every other life, I would search every fucking corner of the earth for her if it meant I could kiss her just once?

“Say that again,” I say.

Her eyebrows raise. “I love you?” She says, almost as a question.

I turn us over to crawl on top of her, cupping her face in my hands. I smooch a cheesy kiss against her mouth, peppering kisses on her cheeks. “Again,” I demand, smiling. She laughs. “I love you, Ava.” I place kisses all over her face, loving the way she giggles under me before wiggling out of my hold to squeeze my body against hers. “I think there’s something you’re supposed to say back,” she muses.

I raise an eyebrow. “The feeling is not mutual,” I deadpan. For a moment, her face drops and her grip on me loosens. I feel a little bad immediately, but I grin at her anyway. “I love you too, headass,” I admit, and she smiles in relief. “Don’t ever do that shit again,” she warns me, but she kisses me again, and just like all the other times, it feels so right.

DECEMBER 13, 2022

“He just wants your autograph. Or a picture, probably.”

“He’s staring at you,” Paige gripes.

I roll my eyes, kicking her under the table. We had come out to this cheap diner for my birthday because I’d let Paige pick the spot and because neither of us really cared where we went. She’d spoiled me all day. That NIL money is really something; a huge bouquet of flowers as soon as I woke up, a Van Cleef bracelet, a promise ring (which I’d begrudgingly cried over), and tickets to a Timberwolves game (we’re both from Minnesota). Besides, the diner is very us - we’d come here over two years ago.

According to Paige, it was where she realized she was really falling for me. I called bullshit.

Now, she’s shooting daggers at our poor waiter, who’s been nervous and flustered all night. Unfortunately, Paige is under the impression that everyone in the world wants me. Realistically, the gangly teenager who’s been refilling our waters all night is probably just a huge fan.

“Here’s the check. Can I get you anything else?” The boy - his name tag says Daniel - just about stutters. He can’t be more than sixteen. Paige narrows her eyes at him, and he gulps, averting his eyes to me. Paige takes the check, handing him her card. She never lets me pay for a damn thing, so I just sneak the occasional twenty into her sock drawer.

“She’s pretty, isn’t she?” Paige asks him. I shoot her a look, startled. “Huh?” He stammers. Oh, this poor kid. I kick her under the table again, but she doesn’t stop. “Do you think she’s pretty?” She asks again, her tone disturbingly serious. Daniel looks frozen, his eyes wide as he looks between me and her. “Uh… yes?” He tries. He sounds positively petrified. Paige nods, tapping the pen against the table. “I do, too,” she hums thoughtfully. She reaches for my hand, tapping the ring on my finger. “So I put a ring on it.” I gape at her, my cheeks burning. No fucking way.

Poor Daniel still looks extremely confused, so she rolls her eyes exaggeratedly. “She’s taken, idiot,” she spells out for him. He immediately begins spluttering. “Oh, I didn’t… I wasn’t- like, she’s very pretty- you’re very pretty- but I wasn’t hitting on her. I just… wanted a p-picture?” He rushes all of this out in one breath, turning to me, then back to Paige.

I glare at Paige, whose lips are pursed and whose eyes are wide with guilt. “Oh,” she intones. “Yeah. Yeah, of course,” she amends quickly, standing up to take the picture with him. In my head, I alternate between bursting out laughing and banging my head against the table.

Paige has always been a very possessive person, but ever since we made things official last semester, she’s taken it to a whole new level. If we’re at parties, she keeps a hand at the small of my back or draped lazily around my shoulder. She knows I’m not huge on the PDA, so she fends people off with the small things.

If she could, she’d shove her tongue down my throat every time someone so much as glanced in my direction.

I decide once we exit the diner that laughter is the only viable option.

I guffaw at her, doubling over and elbowing her in the side as we walk towards her car. “Stop it,” she complains. I can’t, quite frankly, and I’m laughing so hard my side starts to hurt. “You’re so fucking stupid,” I gasp. “Okay, yeah, I overreacted a little. You can’t tell me it didn’t look like he wanted you,” she argues.

I howl as I tug her car door open, my body shaking with laughter as I hop up into the passenger seat. “Oh, my gosh,” I gasp. “I can’t believe that just happened. And you thought you were so tough, too.” Paige looks offended, climbing into the car and pushing her key into the ignition. “Yo, what? I was! Bro, he was shitting himself!” I laugh even harder at this and she pouts.

“Nah, actually, I’m gonna let every guy who wants you make a pass at you. Fuck do I look like?” She demands, glaring at me, pulling the key out of the ignition. I calm down, grabbing her bicep and rubbing her arm to appease her. “You did great, baby. Thank you for defending my honor from a sixteen year old,” I say, trying to stay straight-faced, but the last part of the sentence sets me off.

“Ava!” She complains again.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

“It’s not funny!”

“It’s kind of funny.”

Paige lunges over to the passenger seat, entrapping me in her embrace, her arms tight around my body. “You ungrateful little shit,” she scolds playfully. “I put my life on the line for you just now.” I gape at her. “You had at least half a foot on him,” I inform her. She shakes her head, gazing at me.

“You know how I get about you,” she reminds me quietly, searching my eyes.

I sigh, giving her a kiss. “I know. That’s why I’m not mad,” I remind her, and she pulls a face at me, returning back to the driver’s seat reluctantly.

“It’s hot, most of the time,” I admit. She smirks at me, backing out of the parking space with one hand on the wheel, the other braced on the back of my seat. “Oh, yeah?” She asks. I nod, taking her hand when she rights the car.

“Mhm. Just not when you’re about to beat the shit out of a tenth grader.”

“Fuck off.”

DECEMBER 2022

Drew hides behind his dad, peering out at me. We’ve just reached her dad’s house in Virginia, and we’re planning on spending Christmas here with her family and Azzi’s. Paige’s house is warm and cozy, her basketball memorabilia hanging on walls or balanced on shelves. There’s pictures of her from all ages, at ten, with her jersey hanging loose off of her slender shoulders, a sheepish smile on her face. At twenty-one, her frame filled out, her chest puffed, shoulders broad, smirk wide.

“Drew, it’s okay,” Paige soothes, beckoning him closer. Paige’s little brother’s eyes flick to her, and they light up when he remembers that she’s here, too. My heart swells as he barrels towards her, nearly knocking her back with a hug. She lets out an exaggerated grunt as she picks him up. It’s so cute that it’s almost suffocating.

Drew locks his arms around his sister’s neck, burying his face into her shoulder. “I missed you, Paigey,” he mumbles. He glances at me, and then his eyes go wide again, before he hides his face back in his sister’s shirt. “Hey, Drew. Come on. Say hi,” Paige urges. I laugh. My nephew is the same way around new people. “P, it’s okay,” I reassure her. I’m more than happy to watch the two of them interact.

Drew chances another glance at me, watching me quietly. He turns to Paige to whisper in her ear. Her mouth twitches into a smile at what he says. “She is very pretty,” she appears to agree. Drew hits her on the arm. “Paigey!” He whines, his face growing a little red. I laugh at this, inching closer. “Well, Drew, I think you are very handsome,” I tell him. His mouth twists, lips pursing, before he relents, a small smile on his face. “Really?” He asks. I nod. “I think we could be really good friends,” I sing-song, and he grins at this, clambering off from his sister to come stand in front of me.

I give him my hand to shake, and he takes it eagerly. Paige watches us, eyes flicking between me and her brother. “I’m Avantika,” I introduce myself. “Avantika,” he mumbles quietly, nodding. He looks up at me, his innocent eyes wide. “Your name is pretty, too,” he says in awe. I laugh again at that, and Paige frowns. “Drew,” she warns. “What?” He demands, his tiny hands on his hips as he turns to sass his sister. He really is her little mini-me, right down to the attitude.

“Can I pick you up?” I ask him. Drew nods eagerly, and I edge my hands under his armpits, hoisting him onto my hip. He hesitates before wrapping his arms around my shoulders, and I nearly die from how sweet it is. He lurches back, his eyes wide as he stares at his sister. “She smells like cookies!” He exclaims gleefully, and I giggle even harder at that, squeezing him to me.

- Paige’s Point of View -

It’s official. My nine year old brother has stolen my girlfriend.

He’s colonized her lap, sitting with her on the couch to regale her with stories of his rec team’s basketball escapades, or how much he despises this one girl in his fourth grade class. I narrow my eyes.

“... Switch with Paige,” Ava is saying. I snap out of my trance. “Sorry?” I ask for clarification. Ava grins wickedly at me. “I was telling Drew that since I like him so much better, you guys should switch. You stay here and I’ll take him back to Storrs.” Drew nods happily at this, nestling further into Ava’s lap.

“Okay, that’s enough,” I huff, reaching over to tug Drew off of my girlfriend, but he holds fast to her. “No!” He yells, kicking at me. “No?” I demand. He shakes his head adamantly, and Ava squeezes him to her. “No,” she affirms. I throw my hands up in exasperation. “Drew, I’m not playing with you right now. If you steal my girl, I will fight you,” I tell him. Ava rolls her eyes, turning to him. “We all know you would win that,” she reassures him. He giggles, and she places a big kiss on his temple.

My heart swells watching her with him, seeing him snuggle into her as she shows him pictures on her phone, or the rapt attention with which she listens to him talk.

I get a sudden vision - the two of us, in our own house. She’s done with medical school, I’ve been in the league a few years, and the kitchen is tiled with sage green. We’d argued over it, because I’d wanted purple, I’m sure, but I couldn’t say no to her. I never could. I kiss her good morning, and she hands me coffee, something saccharine sweet with a new flavor of creamer I’ve dared to try that week. And there’s a miniature her, or me, but probably her, because she’d just be so easy to love. Perched at the kitchen table, her nose buried in a book.

Drew laughs out loud as Ava’s fingers dig into his sides, tickling him.

And I’ll think back to this moment, years in the future. I’ll remember their laughter melding together and Ava’s voice tinkling as she tells him embarrassing stories about me. I’ll remember the smile she shoots me, and the feeling of home that shudders through me. And I’ll remember the weight on my chest, heavy, steady, reassuring - that I want to spend the rest of forever with this girl with the beautiful eyes and the beautiful name and the beautiful smile.

I watch them interact all day, almost giddy at the sight, but pretending to pout. “Drew, you’re spending more time with her than me,” I complain, trying to lay my head on her lap. He shoves me away immediately. “Ava and I are besties now,” he tells me firmly. She nods solemnly. “We are,” she agrees, shrugging. My mouth drops open. “I thought we were besties,” I whine to him, and he rolls his eyes. “Paigey. We need to learn to share,” he instructs, holding a hand up to me. I flick his forehead, and Ava dies of laughter.

Later that night, Ava’s brushing her teeth over my bathroom sink, and something about her in my ratty old Hopkins t-shirt, in my family’s house, looking completely at home, is dangerously enticing. The shirt is big on her, and it slides down to expose her bare shoulder and the tattoo she has on her collarbone of the Sagittarius constellation. Her hand rests on her hip, bunching the shirt above her wrist, riding it up so the band of her panties is visible to me.

I inch behind her as she gargles, spitting out water. She turns to leave, but I hold her there, resting my hand on hers, looping the other arm around her waist. I splay a hand across her torso, and dip my nose into her neck, inhaling her scent. Ava sighs, leaning back into me, watching me intently in the mirror.

I ruck her shirt up further, exposing her panties completely, winding my arms around her bare stomach, before letting my hands wander over her thighs and her hips. “He really likes you,” I tell her, referring to my brother. She smiles softly. “I like him, too. He makes me miss my nephew,” she admits, smiling slightly.

I kiss her neck, loving the way she sighs again. “You’re really good with him,” I hum, peppering a few more kisses down the column of her throat. She lets her head loll to the side, giving me more access as her hands trace over my arms. “You think so?” She breathes. I kiss at her jaw, sucking a little, and she lets out a quiet moan.

“I do,” I reply, smirking into her skin. She’s normally cold, but right now, her body is burning. I run a hand over her ass, then back over her stomach, then into her shirt to tease her breast. “Mmm,” she lets out. “I liked it a lot,” I whisper. She smirks at me in the mirror. “Yeah, I bet you did,” she muses, turning around to face me. She hooks a finger in my pajama pants, pulling me closer as she backs into the counter. My hands go to her ass immediately, loving the way it feels in my hands, loving the way I’m the only one who gets to touch her like this.

I hoist her up onto my bathroom counter. “You know what I was thinking?” I murmur, ghosting my lips over hers. “Mmm, what?” She asks. Fuck. Her voice is low, sultry. It’s hard to keep my hands off of her regularly. Her lips are so fucking kissable, and her volleyball shorts leave next to nothing to the imagination. Not to mention those shirts she wears when we go out. I remember this one time she showed up in this blue corset top, cinched tight at the waist, her tits perky and full over the top of it.

I’d fucked her in it that night.

I grin at the memory, licking my lips, feeling her breath stuttering against them. I lean in, and she edges away, but her hands drift to my body. She edges them under my tank top. “What, baby?” She urges. The nickname and the way she says it sends a jolt between my legs. “I was thinking…” I start teasing, and she bites her lip, her eyes trained on my mouth. I ruck her shirt up further, moving my hands up her back before massaging her ass. “Tell me,” she whispers.

I grin wickedly.

“I was thinking I wanna put a baby in you.”

She damn near moans at that. “You think I could do it?” I hum, nipping at her lips.

“Fuck. Try,” she almost begs. My resolve snaps at that, and I crash my mouth to hers, moaning against her lips. She responds hungrily, shoving her hands into my tank top to run them over my bare skin, dancing over my abs, clinging to my hips. I slide my hands under her ass and pull her to me, letting her wrap her legs around my waist and carrying her to my bed.

I throw her against my sheets and crawl on top of her, devouring her lips, basking in the way her leg wraps around my waist to press me closer. “I’m serious,” I murmur, ripping her shirt over head and kneeling to straddle her waist. I take her tits in my hands, kneading them sensually, and she moans. I shake my head, drinking in the sight of her body.

The tattoo just under her breast in Sanskrit, the scar across her hip bone from when she hurt herself hiking, her butterfly belly button ring. I tug at her nipple, and my cunt pulses at the sound that falls out of her mouth.

“I wanna marry you,” I breathe, squeezing her breasts again. I grind my hips against hers, and her eyes look up at me, glimmering. “I’m already naked, you don’t have to say all that,” she teases.

I shake my head. “I wanna fucking marry you, dude,” I say again, insistently. Her eyes soften, realizing the sincerity of my words. She doesn’t say anything, just pulls me down to kiss me, her mouth saying everything without uttering a single word. “Wanna marry you. Want you to have my kids,” I rasp, pressing her into the bed. “Yes. Everything. All of it,” she responds, nodding eagerly.

I run my hands over her body, her skin smooth, her body pliant under my fingers. “I want a beach wedding,” I tell her, pulling her panties down her legs. “In California?” She breathes, sitting on her knees to take my tank top off. I shrug it off, my torso bare, and she attaches her mouth to my stomach, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses everywhere. “Yeah. And a house. In Minnesota.” I sigh as she kisses my nipples, then pushes my pants down my hips. I ruck them off and toss them to the side. She sits back on her haunches, looking at me.

I used to hate being stared at. I mean, when I was a freshman, hooking up with girls for the first time, I’d keep the lights off. I have an athlete’s body, and I’m proud of it, I’ve worked for it. But these girls, with their slender shoulders and narrow waists and full breasts… that wasn’t me. I’m angles and lines and broad shoulders and muscle and sinew. Even when I was naked for her for the first time, I was terrified. This beautiful girl, with curves and thighs and all of it mine to hold and touch and caress, and I couldn’t offer her the same. But she’d braced her hands on my hips, staring down at my body in awe. She’d told me I was perfect.

See, when Ava looks at me, it’s like she can’t believe I’m real.

She covers her face with her hands, shaking her head in disbelief. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” she breathes. “Stop it,” I chide, tugging at her hands. She sits up further on her knees. “No, you’re… you don’t even understand, Paige,” she insists. I look her in the eyes. “Show me,” I tell her.

Ava knows what I mean. She knows what I want. She sits back, laying against the bed, knees bent, her elbows propping her up.

Slowly, slowly, she separates her legs. She spreads them wide, biting her lip as she stares me down, her gaze challenging. My pussy drenches at the sight. “This what you wanted to see?” She asks coyly. I reach into my backpack next to my bed. “You know what to do,” I say and she smirks.

Fuck.

This girl and her doe eyes that she flutters at me while she does the filthiest things to herself… she’s going to be the death of me.

I slip into the strap as her eyes hold mine. She places her two middle fingers in her mouth. Swirls them around. Then she trails them down her body. I follow them hungrily. I watch as they hover over her pussy, right at her clit. Then she swipes them up through her wetness and she circles her clit and she moans.

Loud.

“Fuck,” I groan, wrenching her hand away and plunging into her. Her back arches up off the bed. “Shit!” She gasps. I don’t give her any time to adjust. I just pound into her, gripping her hips harshly enough that I’m sure there will be marks tomorrow. Good. Good. I want my fingerprints all over her.

I want bruises on her neck.

I want marks on her thighs, I want my name tattooed across the small of her back so I can see it when I drive into her from behind.

I want everything from her. Everything.

And she’d let me have it. She keens as I fuck her, mouth open and jaw locked in a permanent silent moan, noises emitting from the back of her throat. “Feel good?” I demand. She lets out a whine, and I'm grateful for how thick the walls in this house are. “I need words,” I say, licking my fingers to circle her clit. She shudders when my fingers touch her, thighs quivering as I force them open.

“Fuck. Fuck, yes.”

“Who’s making you feel like this?”

“You- shit. Oh, shit.”

“What’s my fucking name?” I say, my voice uncharacteristically deep with desire.

“I- Please, Paige.”

“Who?”

“Paige,” she begs, gesturing for me to come closer. I do, pressing into her body as I continue fucking into her. She kisses me hard, her mouth open against mine as every profanity in the book slips out from between her lips. She drags her nails down my back and I groan into her mouth, which she swallows needily.

My hand circles her neck loosely. “You almost there?” I mumble against her mouth. She nods, her face screwing with pleasure and the tension of her impending orgasm. “You gonna come for me?” I ask. My hips snap against hers and I reach my hand down again to pressure her clit, rubbing rapid circles against it. My fingers are slick with her, and I can hear it, hear the sound of me pushing in and out of her wetness, hear just how fucking bad she wants me.

And when she comes, with a cry of my name into my shoulder, teeth digging into my skin, her thighs shaking around my hips, her come soaking the covers underneath, I nearly finish, too. “Fuck,” she whispers against my lips, grinding up against me to ride herself through it. “Always take it so good, don’t you?” I coo, and she bites her lip, nodding at me with her eyes wide.

“Take my cock so good for me?” I ask, pushing in and out of her again. She whines at how sensitive she is, and I grip her neck harder. “Don’t you?” I demand. She nods, but I don’t stop talking, slowly fucking into her again. “Letting me fuck you like this in someone else’s house,” I tut, and she immediately looks guilty. “So dirty,” I tease, my voice low and seductive, and I watch her tits bounce as I speed up again, her mouth dropping open, core pulsing at the sound of my voice.

“Paige, I can’t-”

“You will.”

And if I drive into her especially hard that night, if I fuck her until she has tears streaming down her face and if I fuck her after that, if I make her come more times than is appropriate to make a girl come in your parents’ house, she has no one to blame but herself.

After all, she told me to try.

And I’m nothing if not persistent.

JUNE 2023

- Ava’s Point of View -

“I got roses. She likes roses, right?”

“Yes, Paige. She also likes punctuality.”

“Shit. Am I late? I’m gonna speed.”

“Don’t do that.”

“Already speeding. Be there soon!”

“Drive safe. Love you!”

Paige is meeting my family. Which, in retrospect, doesn’t seem like a big deal. Both my parents moved to the States very young, so they aren’t as traditional and are very accepting. Paige really has to pass the test with my older brother, who’s extremely protective.

I hear a knock at the door, and I rush to open it before he can. “Arjun, move!” I complain when he tries blocking me from getting to the door. My mom shoots us a look. “No fighting with guests in the house,” she warns. I shove him away and storm to the door, glaring at him over my shoulder.

My brother, at the ripe age of twenty-seven, sticks his tongue out at me. His wife, thank God for her, pulls him out of the hallway and back into the kitchen so I can open the door in peace. Paige looks hilariously nervous. I’ve seen her play on some of the biggest stages you can as a college athlete, and she’s never looked as anxious as she does right now.

She’s wearing a pair of loose blue jeans, a white collared shirt, and a red sweater over it with her cross necklace and one with an A layered on top of it. Her hair is down and stick-straight, glossy and blonde from just having got it done. She has a bit of makeup on, some concealer, gloss, and mascara, and her eyes are stark blue. She looks beautiful. I bite back a smile as she grins at me nervously.

I step aside to let her into my house. “I, uh…” She waves the bouquet in her hands a little. “These are for your mom.” “For me?” My mom asks, her eyes lighting up as she approaches from behind. She looks just like me, everyone says. We have the same long, curly hair, and my dad says we have the same eyes and nose. Paige stammers. “Uh, yes. Hi, I’m Paige.” She hesitates, trying to figure out which hand she should use to give my mom the flowers and which she should hold out to shake.

I roll my eyes, grabbing the flowers from her, knowing that my mother won’t settle for a handshake. Just as I thought, she envelops Paige in a hug, squeezing her tight. Paige immediately relaxes, hugging my mom back. I watch as my mom pulls back, gushing about how gorgeous she is. My dad is next, shaking her hand firmly, but glancing at me with a glimmer in my eye. A little bit of relief washes over me. He approves.

My brother puffs his chest, brushing past me, and I roll my eyes. He’s ridiculous. He only has a couple inches on her, but he tries to make it seem like more, standing up straighter. Paige holds out a hand for him to shake. “Paige,” she introduces herself. “Arjun,” he replies, gripping her hand. It looks like a pretty tight grip to me, and he shakes it just once. “So you’re the chick dating my sister, huh?” He questions.

“Oh, my God. Mom, can you get your son in check?” I beg, handing her the flower.

“He’s just asking a question,” she reasons, smiling as she heads back to the kitchen.

Paige grins at him sheepishly. “Yes, I am.”

“You treat her well?”

She shifts uneasily. “I’d like to think so.”

I scoff. “This is ridi-”

“You think so?” Arjun demands.

Paige stammers. “No. Yes. Yes, I treat her well.”

I groan, grabbing her hand and tugging my girlfriend away from my psychotic brother. “Very well!” I toss over my shoulder. We run right into my nephew, Aryan. He shakes his full head of curly hair as he stares up at her with wide eyes, toddling around on his little four year old legs. “And who is this?” Paige asks, her eyes lighting up at the sight of a child. “I’m Aryan!” He chirps. “Do you want to see my hoop?”

“Um, yes?” She says, as though it’s obvious.

“Yay! Follow me!” He instructs, grabbing her hand and pulling her towards the miniature hoop we have set up in the living room for him. My brother played basketball too, being fairly tall, so I’d grown up around the sport. He wants his son to play, too, so we’ve got a hoop at his house and my parents’ house. Paige tosses the plastic orange ball back and forth with Aryan.

I watch them interact, listening to their conversation.

“You know, I play basketball,” she tells him.

“Really? Are you really good?” He demands immediately. Aryan isn’t exactly shy.

“Mmm. I’m okay,” she tells him. He throws the ball back to her, and I giggle when it bonks her in the head.

“Are you better than the Greek Freak?” He asks.

Paige grins at this. “Than Giannis? I don’t think so,” she admits.

I smile. Aryan looks at me. “My Chachi tried to tell me how to say his last name, except for I can’t do it,” he says sadly. Paige’s brow furrows. “What is… who is Chachi?” She asks. The Hindi word for ‘aunt’ sounds foreign on her lips, but it warms my heart. Aryan points to me, jumping up and down, squealing, “Avantika Chachi!”

“Yes, Aryan!” I call back.

“Come play!”

We spend the next thirty minutes or so playing with Aryan. He gets pretty comfortable with her pretty quickly, clambering all over her and tugging her hair. She lets him, and it makes me love her that much more. My love for her fills my heart so quickly and intensely that I think it just might burst from how impossible it must be to love her any more than I already do.

When my parents announce that dinner is ready, Paige leaps to her feet. “Mr. and Mrs. Singh, do you need any help?” She asks, standing at the entrance of the kitchen. Kiss ass, I think fondly. My mom tuts at her. “Paige, of course not! You’re a guest!” She exclaims.

She carries a huge pot of rice over to the dining table, and Paige’s eyes widen at the sight of all the food my mom has laid out in preparation for meeting her daughter’s girlfriend. I nudge her. “Fatass,” I tease. “Avantika, language,” my mom scolds. “Look at her, she’s so thin! Come eat, put some meat on those bones,” she says to Paige, whose mouth drops open. I suppose her clothes do a good enough job of hiding her muscles, but Paige has always been on the leaner side.

“Mom, you can’t say that!” Arjun tells her, herding Aryan into the dining room, but my mother waves him off. He crawls onto Paige’s lap instead of his normal seat. “Aryan, sit in your chair,” his mom tells him. My brother’s wife is a sweet white woman named Jennie, whom my parents adore. The thing is, Aryan doesn’t listen to a word she says. He stays firmly planted on Paige’s lap.

Paige takes the spice from the food like a champ. Jennie always drinks loads of water, but Paige doesn’t seem to need it. She gushes to my mom about how good all the food is, and my mom beams. “See, this is how you should eat,” she says to me and my brother, and the two of us immediately start complaining, talking over each other.

“Enough,” my dad commands, and we both fall silent. Arjun pushes food around his plate, clearing his throat.

“So, you play basketball?” He asks her. I roll my eyes. “Yes, Arjun, Paige plays basketball. Just like Michael Jordan ‘played basketball’ or Tom Brady ‘dabbled in football’.”

“I’m just making conversation.”

“Make it better.”

“It’s okay,” Paige chuckles, laying a hand on my arm. “Yeah, I play at UConn like Ava.”

He nods, pretending not to be impressed. The truth is, my brother is a pretty big fan of hers. “I saw your tournament run last year. Good shit,” he relents. She nods. “Yeah, thanks. Wish we could have finished it off right, but, you know… next year.”

My brother nods thoughtfully, shrugging. “Hey, Bron’s lost six times in the Finals. He’s still the GOAT.”

I freeze, my eyes widening. Shit.

Paige turns to me, her grin shit-eating. “Did you hear that?” She just about sings. I pick at my food. “Mm, I didn’t hear anything,” I say. Arjun is confused. “What? What’s going on?” He asks.

“No, no, your brother makes a great point. I’m sorry, she said she didn’t hear what you said, do you mind repeating it?”

“Enough, Paige.”

Arjun furrows his eyebrows. “What, that LeBron James is the greatest player of all time?”

Paige closes her eyes and nods to herself, holding a hand up to me dramatically. “God, it feels so good to be right.”

I scrunch my face at her. “That doesn’t mean you’re right, dumbass! That just means you’re both wrong.”

“Language!” My mom chides.

Arjun’s face lights up. “Wait, you have Bron in the GOAT debate?” He asks.

Paige grins at him. “Yeah, I got Bron!”

I sit back and pout, watching them scramble to their feet to dap each other up.

“Oh, you better marry this one,” Arjun says gleefully, sitting back down. Paige is grinning uncontrollably. “I love it here,” she smiles. “You guys don’t know ball,” I snap.

“Says the one who doesn’t play basketball,” Arjun argues.

“MJ has as many rings as LeBron does Finals losses, are you guys stupid?”

“At least Bron didn’t retire at 30!” Paige exclaims.

“MJ literally came back after that! And won three more rings!” I say incredulously.

“I’m so sick of this conversation,” my mom groans. My brother and I had this argument time after time growing up, and my parents have heard every possible variation of it.

Arjun smiles to himself, wiping his mouth with a napkin. He wags his finger at Paige. “I like this one. Keep her.”

FEBRUARY 2024

Paige hasn’t spoken to me all day. It’s making me anxious, because tonight is Senior Night, and I know her decision is impending. I’ll be happy either way. I’ve decided to take my fifth year and complete an MBA program here at UConn while I apply to medical school. While I’d love to have her stay with me for a fifth year as well, I know she’s been ready to head to the WNBA since she was in high school. I’d be ecstatic if she declared tonight - she’s fucking incredible.

She’s also fucking annoying. She left early this morning, because she knew that seeing me would make it really easy for me to figure out what her decision was. According to her, only her parents and Azzi know.

I watch, racked with nerves from just behind the bench, as Paige approaches Coach Geno to take her flowers and her framed jersey. I’m taken back to my own senior night. Paige had walked with me, along with my family. It hadn’t been an announcement of our relationship by any means, it had been more like: “Avantika Singh, escorted by her parents, brother, and… Paige Bueckers.”

Obviously, the rumor mill had immediately been abuzz. It’s not that we were necessarily secretive about our relationship, it was just that media attention on Paige had always been more than that of a normal college athlete. Which made sense. I mean, she is spectacular. People on campus more or less knew, but verbally affirming our relationship to people who weren’t our teammates or families had yet to happen.

We were both fine with it either way. I left it more up to Paige - she was the one with the million Instagram followers.

She takes the mic from Geno, clearing her throat. She starts her sappy speech about how UConn fans are the best in the world, how the past four years haven’t gone as planned, and my heart pounds. I can feel it in my ears, and my head nearly hurts from it. “Unfortunately…” My heart drops to my feet at this. She’s declaring. Okay, that’s fine. I have to be supportive. Phoenix and Connecticut are far, sure, but we’ll make it work…

“This will not be my last senior night at UConn, because I’m coming back!”

The arena erupts in cheers before she can even get the second part of her sentence out, and I don’t even process it at first. My hands fly to my mouth, my eyes pricking with tears. The team on the floor is a mess jumping onto Paige and Aubrey, and it looks like it’s news to Geno, as well.

Paige catches my eye, peering into the stands. I shake my head at her, fighting a smile.

She holds her hands out, flicking her fingers in a ‘come here’ gesture almost imperceptibly.

I sprint out of the stands towards her, leaping onto her and throwing my arms around her neck. She laughs, wrapping her arms tight around my waist and holding me. “You dumbass,” I complain. “You could have told me.” I pull back to look at her, grateful for the fact that people are filing out and that the team is loud and raucous enough to cover us from most of the cameras. She shrugs - or tries to.

“Yeah, I could have,” she reasons. “But then I wouldn’t have gotten to see this smile.”

I ease myself off of her, unable to stop myself from grinning. “God, you’re corny,” I tease.

“You love it.”

I sigh. “I do,” I admit.

Then Paige gets pulled away for media, and Geno and CD usher me after her. “What?” I ask, confused. CD shakes her head. “Come on. You’re going to want to see this.” I stumble into the room for media personnel, and see a table set up with four chairs and mics. I’m confused. “Wait… what’s going on?” I ask. Geno shrugs, a twinkle in his old eyes.

It’s about twenty minutes before Aubrey, Nika, Aaliyah, and Paige come out, all wearing ridiculous sunglasses, and sit at the media table. The media people start with routine questions, asking Nika and Aaliyah if they plan on staying, to which they respond tiredly that they don’t know. I nearly giggle at the canned response. I know those two have been rehearsing it since the season started.

Aubrey pokes fun at Geno for announcing that she’s coming back prematurely. Then they ask Paige how she feels about the decision.

“You know, it feels like a weight off my shoulders. Obviously, a lot of thought went into this decision. I talked to my family, my teammates, my coaches, and, uh…” she pauses, a shit-eating grin taking over her face before it fades into a smirk. I swear she glances at me, because I can feel her eyes on me, but I can’t really see properly through her glasses.

“I talked to my girlfriend, who had to make a pretty similar decision recently. And, yeah. It just felt right, and to be able to do that in front of the best fans in the country… It meant a lot.”

My mouth drops open, and I turn to CD. “Did she just..?” I demand. CD nods, smiling at me. “I think she did.”

The media personnel are buzzing with excitement at the little tidbit that Paige has just let slip, but I don’t hear a single word of the rest of the press conference. I march straight to the locker room, seating myself on a bench.

Paige walks in just a few minutes later, laughing with the rest of the seniors. She spots me on the bench, arms crossed, one leg over the other.

“Are you mad?” She asks sheepishly. I get up, not saying a word, and begin walking towards her.

“Okay, maybe I should have asked. Don’t be-”

I stop her, grabbing her face and pulling it to mine.

And I kiss her. I kiss her and kiss her and kiss her, I kiss her until the rest of the world fades away, until it feels like I can’t tell where I begin and she ends, until nothing and no one else matters. When I pull back, there’s tears on my face. “Okay, so you’re not mad,” she guesses, and I shake my head, smiling.

“I love you,” I tell her firmly.

She grins. “I love you, too.” She pecks my nose.

“Another year together,” I giggle, cupping her face tightly.

Paige laughs. “Another year, and every year after that, if that’s okay with you,” she murmurs.

I laugh shakily, standing on my tiptoes to kiss her again.

“How does forever sound?”

And then smiles at me, her eyes suddenly shining, too.

Sometimes, you just know. You don’t know when it happened or how it happened. Somewhere in between that night at the gym or in the training room or my place or hers, somewhere between her hands and my heart and her eyes and mine, I’d realized that my forever has a laugh that feels like home and a smile that breaks my heart from the inside out. My forever loves the color purple and overly sweet coffee and her little brother and she loves me. My forever looks at me like I hung the moon and holds me like what we have is the most precious thing in the world. And maybe it is. Maybe she is.

And I’m glad it’s not anyone else. I’m glad it’s her.

Paige is my forever.

“Forever sounds like a plan.”

#paige bueckers #paige bueckers fic #fic #wcbb #paige bueckers x oc #uconn wbb #✂️ anon #ncaaw

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cherrygukkie · 7 months

Text

Late Night Encounters| jjk

Summary: A student-athlete like you, who flies under the radar, never expected to become enemies with someone like Jeon Jungkook, an annoying talkative senior who goes out of his way to make your life a living hell. But what happens when your rivalry takes some twists and turns, and your hate turns into something else? Will getting too close to Jungkook reveal a side of him that you’ve never seen before?

Word Count: 5,2k

AN: Hey folks! This is something I came up with in the middle of the night, so I hope that you all enjoy this as much as I am currently planning all of this out! :) But yeah, I don't have anything else to say, but to enjoy this first snippet of Jk and OC's relationship. Love yah mwahh!!

Props to @dollfaceksj for beta-reading thank you <3

READ: (Pls comment and give feedback it's all welcomed. It'll help me stay motivated.)

Lmk if there are any errors please and thank you.

••••••••

Thursday, 7:03 a.m.

It’s early in the morning, and you know what that means…. School time!!!

Yay… school.

You’re currently at school, exhausted. That wasn’t out of the ordinary though. No matter how much sleep your body gets you still end up tired. At this point, you've accepted the fact that you’re a sleepy girl.

Putting on your beats, you turn the music volume to the max. Hopefully, music can give you a little energy and help you get through the day because you need it.

Surprisingly Yoongi or Taehyung weren't at school around this time. Usually, the three of you arrived at the same time, if something came up you’d receive a message from either one of them. They didn’t tell you yesterday or text you, so you check their location.

When you do it shows that they are on the road, moving in the same area.

They were driving somewhere…

The direction they are going is further away from the school. You being curious, you took it upon yourself to see what’s up with them.

Letting out a yawn, you call Yoongi, and not even a second later, he declines.

What the fuck?

You decide to shoot Taehyung a message since they’re together and he responds…

You: um why aren’t you or Yoongi at school?

You: I see that you guys are driving and I feel left out.

Taehyung : Sorry Y/N. I was supposed to tell you, but It slipped my mind.

Yeah, just like how my foot is gonna slip up both their asses.

Taehyung: We got caught up in some last-minute shit.

•okay, but my question is still unanswered.

You: where are you guys going though???

Read.

Taehyung left you on read along with him being secretive about his location… that’s unusual and weird.

Extremely weird…

“Such shitheads for ditching me,” you mutter, shoving your phone in your pocket. Great… Now today is going to be the definition of boring without dumber and dumbest.

You open your locker, replacing your books with your skateboard. The bell is going to ring shortly, so you start walking to class. You slam your locker shut, striding down the halls with the volume of your headphones sounding out everything and everyone, just how you liked it.

Your face was frowned up until ETA by NewJeans came on. A smile creeps onto the corner of your mouth as angelic voices enter your ears and a flicker of amusement manages to lighten your mood.

“what’s your ETA!” “what’s your ETA!”

Just when your grumpy spirit is starting to lift, someone swoops in from the right, snatching your headphones off your ears. The music is gone and the little smile you grew shattered into a million pieces.

You freeze, taken back by his audacity. “You did not… just take my headphones.”

You turn around to see the one and only, Jeon Jungkook.

Jeon Jungkook who surprisingly wasn’t wearing his usual Calvin Klein attire. Instead, he had on a pair of distressed jeans with a soft blue zip-up jacket.

The way he has his jacket off his shoulder is so baby girl of him

Jungkook smirks, holding the headphones out of reach. “New Jeans? Really?” He could hear even while they were hanging above your head. That’s how loud the music was.

“Give it back!” you demand, through a big jump to retrieve your headphones. Each time you jumped, his hand went higher and higher. Jungkook enjoyed watching you struggle, especially if it’s because of him.

“You don’t seem like the type to listen to New Jeans,” he says, ignoring the fact that he’s holding your property. “They’re so uplifting and joyful… and you-” Jungkook pauses, eyeing you down. You could sense the insult coming.

You talk over him, not letting him finish. “Why are you doing this?”

It’s too early to play his stupid games. He couldn’t wait until Chemistry class?

“Just doing my daily dose of annoying you.” He clicks his tongue, dangling the headphones with his index finger.

“Well, congratulations, Jungkook. You’ve succeeded once again. Now give me back my headphones and leave me alone,” you demand again, reaching up only for him to hold them higher.

At this damn point, your arms are moving in the air desperately like a lunatic. This is taking place in the middle of the halls… in front of people.

How fucking embarrassing is that?

ugh, I hope that people don’t think I’m a pushover now…

You raise your voice, walking up to Jungkook. “Give me my shit back!”

The anger in your voice draws attention in the halls. Right after you speak, multiple eyes burn into your soul. You look around and people are staring at the both of you with concerned faces. Part of you wanted to tell them to mind their shit and keep it pushing, but you take a breath, taking a chill pill.

“Jungkook,” you say through gritted teeth, bringing your hands together. “Can I have my beats back? They’re too expensive to be played around with.” You swallow all the bass in your tone.

“What’s the magic word?” Jungkook teases, exposing the dimple on his right cheek. Beasty, huh? you've never understood why he gave you such a nickname in the first place. Assuming it was an insult, you always ignored it.

Today wasn’t the day for his stupid games, he for sure wasn’t getting a please out of you.

You blink constantly, accepting your defeat. “You know what… I’m not doing this shit today. You can keep them, you jerk.” Walking away from Jungkook, you try to speed walk to class in need to get away from him. You’re already dealing with limbs that could barely function and heavy eyelids, you aren't in the mood to play.

Searching for peace didn't last how you wanted. Jungkook catches up with you, refusing to leave you alone.

"Careful there or you'll drop your books."

You look over at Jungkook who was keeping up with your speed. “I hate you.”

A little laugh sneaks past his lips before speaking, “No, you don’t.”

He had the presence of a fly, no matter how much you shoo him away he always finds his way back.

Why do you despise him with a passion?

Why is Jeon Jungkook your nemesis?

The reason behind it is a story. It started when you ran into him on a chaotic evening at the worst moment possible, just when you thought the hole you were in couldn't get any deeper...it did.

*Flashback!*

4 months ago...

Friday evening, 7:37 p.m.

Stuck in the middle of traffic, you’re repeatedly hitting crazy turns, left, right, left, left, right, right, nonstop. You wanted to punch yourself in the face for missing the bus and being an irresponsible dumbass.

Yeah, it's true...you were late to a game. It's not all your fault, though. To be fair it was a last-minute one that the coach signed everyone up for. Earlier today, you had to stay after school to figure out some arrangements with your teachers for your grades. It was either that or nothing because bad grades equal no volleyball.

All work was uncompleted, besides Mrs. Parker's class. That was your favorite class and you had an A+, so you didn't have to visit her. You had to visit everyone else and it didn’t go as planned. Besides giving you an extension on the work, you were assigned a tutor for the next 2 months.

Your schedule was dedicated to volleyball, therefore you had no free days unless it was the weekend, and as much as you didn't want to sacrifice it, you had to.

Girl, your grades were crying.

You need to maintain them to keep volleyball in your life. Today was Saturday and you decided to start. It wasn't a problem because you had no plans at all… well that’s what you thought.

You put your phone on do not disturb, just to concentrate, not to ignore anybody.

You just needed your mind to be fixated on school for once, not a ball, not a net, or a gym.

🏐🥊

During those long hours of catching up and studying you weren't aware of the messages in your group chat. You packed up all your things and you went directly to your messages to see 100+ texts from the group chat.

You open it thinking it's about the next practice or probably not expecting a message like this.

Coach [: "I'm sorry to spring this on you girls on such short notice, but I received an email from a coach from another district about playing against his team because apparently, the other team forfeited before the game.

Coach [: I agreed to it thinking maybe you girls could use the extra practice, you know? explore other teams and their ways of playing."

Coach [: "The school is far, so I recommend you gear up and be at the gym by school at 6:20 because the drive is longer than 30 minutes and we all need to ride the bus together, as a team."

Coach [: "There's no reason why any of you should be late because I'm texting you a couple of hours before, so please be on time okay you all know how I am about tardiness."

The more we are late the more we condition....

Coach [: "Okay, but that's all. I'll see you all in a bit, be ready!"

You take your phone off Do not disturb, then you exit the building, phone, and bag in hand checking your missed calls,

Reading that you had numerous missed calls from the coach, you call her and she answers immediately. The phone barely got through the first ring. You opened your mouth to speak, but her lecture overpowered you. "Y/N where the hell are you? the game is about to start!"

You're so stuck you couldn't give a proper answer so all you say is, "Huh?" the confusion in your response made her angrier.

"You are late Y/N! You were supposed to be on the bus an hour ago!"

Coach sent that message at 3:36 and when you checked the time it was 7:15 p.m. It was like glass shattering when your heart sank realizing you lost track of time. Your phone shook in your trembling hands, too stunned to speak.

It's been that long?!?

She tells you that the game has already started and that you need to be on your way now, especially with you being one of the main players you were needed no matter what, or the rotation would be switched.

It was still the beginning of the season, so people were only familiar with their positions. Having rotations changed and adjusted to something last minute during a game is a total mess. A rule in volleyball is if you were out of rotation they deduct points, and that was unacceptable.

"C-coach, I'm sorry-" you tried to sound sincere with a pounding heart and unsteady voice. "I'll get there as fast as possible." She ends the conversation by hanging up the phone.

Well goddamn.

Then and there you knew you were "Fucked." you muffled, in your hand. "I am so fucked...."

You start running as fast as you can and thankfully the dorms aren't too far from the school, so you arrive shortly. You swung the door open and rushed to your room not greeting your roommate, but that didn't matter.

She wasn't the nicest...

When you get in your room you start tossing things everywhere trying to find your jersey. That's what you get for misplacing important shit, that's what your mom would tell you after you'd lost something and it played in your mind on a loop.

At some point, you found everything and shoved it in your bag racing out the door to the parking lot. And there you are speeding recklessly in your car, slamming your fist on the horn honking at cars, cutting them off doing all you can to escape from this major traffic jam.

You weave through traffic pressing on the gas pedal, “Come the fuck on…” you yell, feeling your frustration build up. “Can these cars go any slower?!? I’m almost there!”

Why does everything go wrong on inconvenient days…?

Finally, you arrive at the stadium, and you pull into the parking lot and your eyes dart immediately to a good spot in between two cars surprisingly in front of the entrance. There were a shit ton of people here...

You turn the wheel parking your car thinking none of it, then suddenly there is this noise you heard. In the mise of hearing that sound, your whole car jolted back from the impact, even though it was the slightest tap.

Leaning forward a bit, you see the space you have in front of you and your jaw drops in disbelief. "Please no...." This could not be happening right now.... you're already in trouble for being an hour late and now you have to deal with this.

To fix your parking, you back out and properly pull in between the two cars. After, you take a moment to close your eyes and cross your fingers hoping that the damage wasn't too severe. Your pockets had flies coming out of them…. you couldn't afford to fix a damn car.

Let's pray that there was nothing there and you could move on with life, peacefully. You got out of the car to check yours first. It was in perfect condition and not a single mark was on it, maybe that was a sign of something good.

You rushed to the back of the black car to confirm that the crunching noise you heard was in fact the bumper that was dented up, terribly. The back of the vehicle even had scratches and the black paint was scraped off.

It was bad...

"Oh my god..." you mouthed nervously. The car did look fancy and highly expensive. It didn't take long for you to realize that the car you hit was a Mercedes-Benz, but not only that it was the newest version. "You've got to be fucking kidding me...." you screamed, burying your face in your palms.

How the hell were you going to pay for the damages on this car, a damn Mercedes?!? To be fair, you weren't poor, you just didn't have money like that, or you didn't have any on you. And bothering your parents with this rough situation was the last you wanted to do. They were already helping you pay for volleyball camp, so there was no need to shake them for more money.

Your hands found their way to your head gripping your hair, stressfully. "Ugh, I should've been on the damn bus!" you yell again, feeling stupid. You wanted to punch yourself in the face for the rookie mistake.

Too busy pacing back and forth and complaining you didn't notice that there wasn't a single soul in the car. By now someone would've come out to give you shit for hitting their vehicle.

You instantly got an idea.

And that idea was to walk away and pretend nothing happened.

Why not? nobody was outside, nobody saw you and nobody was inside the car meaning there's no proof of you hitting their car attempting to park.

That intense feeling wore off and your body relaxed a little. You look both ways before crossing the street.

Thank god, you didn't have to deal with a rich bitch or asshole who'd exaggerate the problem like the car was their child and make you pay more than you have to. You sigh, walking away, ready to enter the school and deal with the coach because that was next on the checklist.

You stuff your hands in your pockets, making your way towards the entrance, until you hear something. That something was the sound of a car door getting slammed violently.

"What the hell? are you fucking kidding me?!?" the mysterious man shouted. He sounded upset—a more fitting word, enraged. "Hey, you! black sweatshirt."

Yep, that was you. A girl in a black sweatshirt who was trying to ditch the situation.

"Hm?" you slowly turned around as if you were innocent.

Your guilty eyes met his deep brown cold ones. He looked very pissed right now. "Hm?" the mysterious boy mocked your act. "You fucked up my shit!" he pointed to the poor bumper.

You nibble on your lip, caught up and no he wasn't wrong that's exactly what you were going to do.

"What?” You fix your thick frames. "Dude, what are you talking about? I didn't fuck up anything. I was only walking out here getting fresh air, that's all..."

"Oh really?" He took a step closer moving under the moon. It was easier to make out the details. Soft dark curly long hair, muscular figure, piercings, tattoos.... a dangerous combination a guy could have.

Damn.

He wore a Calvin Klein denim jacket with a matching shirt and bold thick platformed boots. He looked like your typical bad boy or fuck boy, you choose. You’d never seen him before, ever.

You reacted, backing away from his unnecessary step. "Yes?"

"You are lying and you fucking suck at it.”

You tried flipping the script. “That’s what you think.”

“It’s what I know and now you’re starting to piss me off.”

"Okay, shit!" Your arms slap your sides, defeated. "I hit your car, okay? But it was a mistake. I was rushing to get to my game and I was going to leave because I needed to avoid this. After all, I'm already late and my coach is upset with me." Listening to you, his eyes were rolled to the back of his head, tired of hearing your sob story. "It was seriously an accident, I misjudged the distance between the cars," you continued. "I'm fucking sorry, okay?"

He was able to see that you were going through a tough time, but did he care? Hell no. He wasn't having any of that. For fucks sake, you hit his car and that's all he cared about, not some girl who's using being late as an excuse to recklessly drive.

“Do you know how much it’s going to cost me to get fixed?”

"No, I don't, but I do know that it's going to be pricey and trust me if I had the money I would pay for the expenses, but I don't have much money right now..."

"Oh, great. Miss careless driver not only hits my car, but she can't afford to fix it. Just what I fucking needed today."

You continued to apologize and reason with him, but he cut you off. "You expect me to accept your apology? That doesn't change the fact you hit my car. I could care less about a fucking apology right now.”

Now... it was bothering you a little. Despite the situation, this guy was being a dickhead.

Did you hit his car? Yes, you did and he has every right to be angry, but there should be some way that this can be resolved respectfully without being an asshole. And that's what he was doing, he's raising his voice, expecting you to stand there like a fool.

He had no idea who he was talking to. You frowned, no longer feeling ashamed or apologetic for hitting his car.

"No, it isn't but I'm sure that if you can afford a Mercedes then I'm sure you have the money to fix the damn bumper yourself," you argued.

"You're right," he chuckled, rubbing his forehead. "I can afford to get it fixed. I don't know why I thought that someone...." His voice trailed off as he faced your car. ".... someone who drives a 2010 Ford Taurus could even pay for a single scratch on my car."

broke bitch alert!!!

He turned around, lifting his brows, waiting for a response from you. The disrespect was too real and you blurted out an aggressive, “Fuck you.”

He was seriously calling you broke…

“And fuck you for hitting my car.” The guy got closer, narrowing his eyes at you as if you were familiar somehow. “You...” His voice trailed off from looking at your sweatshirt.

He got distracted from the words on it. It had your team and university labeled on it.

“You don’t even go to this school, do you?” he asks.

The mysterious boy’s question threw you off. Your eyes darted everywhere before talking. "No...?" you replied lost. "Why the hell does it even matter?"

“I knew you seemed familiar.” He nodded, getting struck by a moment of realization. "You're that one volleyball player who plays at ____ university?" He asked, reading your shirt. "And you're Y/N, right?"

“Yeah, why?”

"You know what-" he smacked his lips. "I'll let this slide this time one time.” You wanted to say thanks, too bad part of you was still heated from the argument, but how did he know your name?

You watched him walk to his car, and then he opened the door. “Just stay the hell out of my way, got it?"

He didn’t have to tell you twice.

"More than happy too,” you shout.

Once he got into his car, you turned around and ran inside the school. heading straight to the gym. You saw your team on the court, playing hard in an intense rally as you walked in. There was a shit ton of people cheering, yelling and screaming.

The noise was a mixture of good and bad…

You glanced at the score and thankfully, it was a tie. Coach gave you a deadpan as you walked towards her with guilt. Like you were expecting, she scolded you or whatever, and then she called a time-out.

All the girls left the court to get water and catch their breaths. Coach like usual, went over everyone's positions and dos and don'ts. While she did so, you slid out of your hoodie and sweatpants, revealing your jersey and shorts under.

You were prepared.

You scanned the crowds on your school's side and damn near everyone showed up to support the team. Some classmates waved at you and of course, you returned the kind gesture, glad to see them here to support the team.

Then randomly out of nowhere, you saw the same guy enter the gymnasium. He walks up a few flights of bleachers to sit with Jimin, Seokjin, and some other guy you don't know.

You assumed they were his friends.

When he's done greeting them... his attention landed on you, only you. It was weird after that interaction you had with him.

Looking away from him, you tried to regain your focus on the girls and coach.

"You all are doing great; except I need you all to make it harder for them. Let's stop fooling around and get in the lead and let it stay that way. Now that Y/N is here there's no more confusion now, the lineup is back to normal. Everyone with me?" Coach looked at everyone and they responded with nodding heads or a yes ma'am.

"Go out there and make them work, make them sweat."

The girls, including you, did your signature hand-stack a second after the buzzer went off. Girls that were benched sat down and girls that were on the court returned to the floor.

You simply do you and you get on the court to do what you're best at.

Play volleyball.

Things went back to normal, everyone played their hearts out, and in the end. You won the game.

But throughout the process, you couldn't help but notice his stares during the whole game. Anytime you'd look in his direction his focus was already on you.

The more you looked at him the more you remembered his identity. Now him knowing your name made sense because he attends your school along with him being in your 5th period.

Chemistry.

His name is Jungkook, Jeon Jungkook. He was a new exchange student from Seoul, but you couldn’t remember his major, although you did remember that he’s in a relationship with a girl named Alex who was well known at your school. Which is also how Jungkook was known in the first place.

It’s surprising because you hardly recognized him due to your head being on such a swivel.

It’s crazy that you've never even crossed paths before.

Ever since your first impression of Jungkook, the universe did its thing where he appeared everywhere now and you couldn’t escape him…

For some odd reason, he stood out even more because every day he went out of his way to bother you and piss you off, constantly. You haven't liked him since then and now you don't like him even more and couldn’t avoid him.

He didn't keep his word when you ran into him and he told you this exactly: "Stay the hell out of my way."

You’ve been stuck with this idiot ever since then.

*Present*

“Should I have taken your glasses instead?” he jokes, knowing damn well you are practically blind. You could see, but not too well.

You bark, “Why are you bothering me?”

“You should’ve never hit my car,” he says, words rolling off his tongue with a shrug.

“Oh, fuck off,” you aggressively tell him, wishing he’d disappear like dust into the air.

How long was he going to hold you accountable for that? It’s been months.

“I’ll fuck off when you tell me what’s up with you. You seem more feisty than usual….” You immediately stop walking to glare at Jungkook who places his finger on his chin. “Did one of your little boyfriends piss you off?”

He’s referring to Taehyung and Yoongi…

“Wow… your detective skills are impressive,” you sarcastically praise him, dramatically rolling your eyes. “Is that all you got?”

Jungkook strokes his chin. “Am I right?”

“Those aren’t my boyfriends and you are wrong, but why do you even care about what’s going on with me?”

“I don't, I'm just curious,” He replies, sounding interested in the reason for your attitude. “And you look like shit and it’s not because of me… so I want to know.”

“Yeah, and I feel like it too,” You admit, feeling the sleepiness weigh you down. “Like always…” an exhausted sigh leaves your lips.

“Why?” he asks, headphones still in his possession.

Jungkook's questions make you rub your temples. “I’m exhausted and later today I’m gonna be busy. I have to attend the sports event. You know where all athletes are required to go?”

“I’m familiar.” Jungkook places the headphones around his neck. “They announced the dumb thing yesterday.”

“It’s not dumb, Jungkook,” you declare, folding your arms, giving him a deadpan. “It's an important and great opportunity for all college athletes. It only happens once a year.”

The sports event in the evening that you are attending is an event for all athletes. It allows students to meet other teams including school teams, professional teams and club teams.

It’s a chance to ask professional coaches and players for advice for future reference. Sometimes, people who are that good get recruited to play on a team outside of school with the professionals.

That happens to maybe a couple of students out of the multitude of schools put together. Being chosen is such an amazing opportunity, you get to be on national television, by any chance make history, and get paid tons and other good things, but you weren’t banking on it this year. The odds of you getting scouted out were more than average, however, there are still things you’re insecure about when it comes to playing.

If anything, you need to secure those first before putting yourself out there, on national television.

“Beasty…” he says as if he had a question.

“Yes...?” you lazily nod slowly, watching his tongue glide over his teeth while smirking.

He better not ask to be my additional person

Was he going to ask you if he could be your extra guest this evening? You’re currently figuring out who’s that going to be, but it damn sure wasn’t going to him.

“Will-”

You squint your eyes, hoping this isn’t leading to a proposal. “Wait… you aren’t suggesting that I should take you-”

“No, I’m already going,” he claims, shaking his head. “And I have my date for this evening. I was just wondering about yours.”

Date, hm?

“So, who is it?” he asks, intrigued.

It's purely silent for a moment, but you think of something quickly to save yourself from the embarrassment-

You quickly speak up. "I have a date,” you throw in proudly, ignoring how big of a lie that is.

All you care about is covering your ass at the moment, not the backlash.

you’re such a fucking liar.

"Right, so who is it?"

You dodge his question. “Who's your date, Jungkook?” you ponder, pretending that your curiosity isn’t bouncing off the walls. You could feel it in your bones.

Jungkook isn't an athlete for the school, so that means the person he will be attending the event with is someone who goes to this school or someone else.

His face twitches with amusement. Seeing you in his business is a sight for him. “A very good friend of mine…”

“Is she on my team?”

“I can assure you she isn’t.” Jungkook cackles before confirming, “Volleyball players aren’t my type.”

Then what is?

•that’s a relief

“She goes to another school anyway. I can guarantee that you don’t know her.” Jungkook watches your eyes drop from his face to his neck, then grips the headphones firmly.

“Enough about mine,” he says as he changes the subject unexpectedly. “Who’s your…” A smile plastered on his face. “Date. And don't answer my question with another question."

Hm, who is your date??

"It's a secret," you whisper, motioning sealed lips. "I'll reveal mine once I see yours.”

He gives a subtle shrug. "Fair enough," Jungkook says, nodding his head, acknowledging your agreement.

*Bell rings!*

“Oh, won’t you look at that?” Placing your hands on your hips, you point out, “It's time to go class…so-” you stare at the headphones again. “Are you going to hand them over or what?”

Jungkook looks down at your hand and laughs when you extend it out. “Should I?” He calmly asks, pushing your buttons. You start to tap your foot impatiently, exaggerating your irritation.

He thinks to himself for a moment, before his eyes drop to the beats around his neck, then shortly locks eyes with your frustrated ones. “Actually… I want to hang onto these for a little while. These will come in handy during my workout.”

“Fine! Keep them,” you express with a dramatic slap to the side of your thighs. “But don’t think that I won’t get them back.”

As the warning bell rings, you shoot him a withering glare and without wasting a single second, you storm off to class with only one particular thing on your mind… and it wasn’t the headphones…

Who is Jungkook's date?

To be continued…

♡︎Taglist is here, lovelies

#jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #minors dni #jeon jungkook smut #bts x reader #bts imagine #jungkook au #jungkook x you #bts #jeon Jungkook #bts smut #Jungkook fic

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spdrwdw · 3 months

Note

can u write something abt miguel and the reader being childhood best friends but they grew apart and then met again years later and get together?

Of course! I have been planning on making a series based on my childhood friend headcanons

Art By Shuploc

Pairing: Miguel x F!Reader

Warnings: None, no use of y/n. Warnings will change throughout the series. Each part will have their own warnings

Summary: You and Miguel were childhood bestfriends. You two did everything together, one never without the other. That is, until you both headed off your separate ways. Now, you move back to New York and bump into him. Will your old friendship with him continue? Will you get any closure? Also, who is this Spider-Man you keep running into?

A/N: So I am finally getting around to writing my childhood Miguel fic/series! I don't have a set number of parts this will be. Nor do I have a timeline of when I'm getting each part out as I am also going to be working on requests. But, I will put up a post for when I have a new part coming out a few days prior. This is going to take place in the future when you and Miguel are older. There may be flashbacks and I will be using my headcanons as inspo. POV will change from Miguel and reader. This is the prologue, giving us a little snippet of reader and Miguel when they were teens.

Word Count: 829

☆ Prologue ☆

Masterlist, WWWY Masterlist , part 1

☆*:.｡. o .｡.:*☆ ☆*:.｡. o .｡.:*☆ ☆*:.｡. o .｡.:*☆ ☆*:.｡. o .｡.

"Hey, remember when we used to play pirates over at the jungle gym?" Miguel asked you as you both swung on the swings of your childhood playground.

You smiled and nodded your head, your mind drifting off to the wonderful memories of when you were both kids, playing with the other neighborhood kids.

“Of course I do. I was only the best thing ever!” You laughed as you continued to swing.

“The slides were our ship and the monkey bars were the only way to get to and from land. It was great, honestly,” you reminisced.

The sun was beginning to set, and Miguel couldn’t help but to stare at you for a moment as the sunlight caught your profile. And Miguel was in complete awe. They way the sun seemed to just glisten your skin, giving you such an angelic glow that he suddenly felt unworthy of. It made his stomach turn a bit.

He had been harboring feelings for you for quite some time, and he knew that if he didn’t confess them to you now, he knew he never would.

“Hey..I know this is gonna sound crazy, but, I want to tell you something,” Miguel started, suddenly feeling very nervous.

You looked over at him, a smile on your fine. “Hmm? What is it?”

God, that smile. It made his heart skip a beat every single time. He could stare at it forever. He wanted to.

So badly.

And yet…

“N-nevermind. It’s nothing,” he shook his head.

You raised a brow at him. “You sure, Miggy?”

Damn, that nickname. Only those closest to him were allowed to call him that. However, hearing you saying it tugged at his heart a certain way.

“Y-yeah. I’m sure,” he assured you, looking down at his feet as he continued to swing. The fact that the swing was able to hold him was a miracle. He had a huge growth spurt in high school that he stuck out like a sore thumb. Many thought that he was a basketball player with how tall he was. However, he was too bulky to be playing basketball, so he took on football instead. Not something he was planning on continuing on with. His passion was science.

“It feels so surreal, doesn’t it? In a few months, we’ll be going off to college. You better text me, Miguel,” you told him, a pout in your face as you looked over at him.

“Me oyes?”

“Yeah, I hear ya,” Miguel chuckled, nodding his head. Of course he would keep contact with you.

He then looked back down as he stilled himself on the swing. He really needed to tell you before it was too late. It was already too late. You two were headings off to different universities. You’d only see each other during holidays and summer break. But, it could still work out, right?

Well, he’d have to tell you first.

And he was already chickening out.

You two had been through so much together. Had done so many things together. You were his best friend and he was yours. Since kindergarten, you two were inseparable. You were both each other’s first in..a lot of things. You had your first kiss with him. You were his first crush, and you both lost your virginity to each other. That..that was an experience.

Miguel didn’t want to say goodbye. He didn’t want to let you go. But, such was life, right? Plus, you both promised to keep in touch.

And you both were good about keeping promises.

Or so Miguel thought.

“Come on, Miggy. We should start heading back home. It’s getting late. And we need to be up early for tomorrow,” you told him as you let your feet touch the ground, putting your swing to a stop before getting off.

Miguel followed suit with a nod of his head, swinging himself as high as he could before jumping off, landing on his feet with a thud.

“You’re gonna mess up your knees,” you tsked at him, shaking your head as you began to make your way along the dirt path that led to the neighborhood sidewalk.

“Eh, I’ll be okay,” Miguel chuckled as he waved you off.

You both walked side by side, hands teasingly brushing against each other. Fingers threatening to intertwine. You looked up at him, and he was already glancing down at you. You never spoke about your relationship. What were you two, exactly? It wasn’t just friendship anymore. But, neither of you managed to bring it up. You wondered what his thoughts were.

Miguel walked you up the steps to your house, standing in front of you, hands stuffed in his pockets as he shuffled a bit.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he told you.

“See you tomorrow, Miguel,” you replied with a smile just before Miguel leaned into you, capturingyour lips in a kiss.

Possibly what would be the last kiss you’d ever receive from him.

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#miguel o'hara #spiderman 2099 #atsv miguel #miguel ohara #miguel o’hara x reader #atsv #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara fanfiction #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o’hara #miguel o hara x reader #miguel spiderman #miguel o’hara x you

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bonny-kookoo · 10 months

Note

Hii, i came on here after months and i immediately fell in love with the i like you couple..

i’m gonna be true to my angst loving ass and ask: how do we have to imagine the situation when kook lashes out with words? do you have a little snippet or something for that maybe or obviously you can just simply answer it’s up to you:) is he mean mean and how does oc deal with him during those times?:|

AN: Haha, warning for angst, obviously. -Masterlist

He knows he's being unreasonable. He should just apologize that he forgot, and move on with it- but for some reason, it's been growing over his head, out of his hands. The jokes of his supposed 'friends' at the gym about his new 'barbie' girlfriend, the fact that he's dealing with jealousy for the first time, and now, you just being reasonably upset over the fact that he knew he had to pick you up from work today, and simply.. didn't.

He doesn't even know why he didn't do it. He just felt too shitty to really get up from his couch.

"Are you even listening to me right now?" You whine, and at that, he snaps.

"I'm not, no, because it's really hard to keep up with the amount of words you're spewing right now." He bites at you, and you're visibly taken aback by his tone. "I get it, I fucked up, jesus christ yeah you had to walk home for once, get over it! Next time get yourself a fucking cab maybe, I'm not your personal slave!" He scoffs, leaving you in the kitchen by yourself, while he himself locks himself in the bathroom to shower, and maybe calm down.

Fucking hell, he'd never yelled like that before. Especially not at you.

He feels like shit as his mood starts to shift underneath the warm water from the shower, guilt creeping up on him. He knows you can't do your drivers license because you're terrified of driving yourself- and yeah, maybe that's why he used that fact to hurt you. He also knows you're insecure about asking things of him- so yeah.

Now that he thinks about it, that was a low blow.

But he just wanted you to stop being so mad at him, he just wanted to have you be quiet for once, because he just couldn't take anymore today.

But he knows it's wrong to be like this. Especially with you, his fucking girlfriend. You had every right to be upset at him, and he deserved the way you were mad at him. Hell, you didn't even curse at him once, he just realized, you were so fucking gentle in telling him that you are disappointed- you never said you were mad at him for not picking him up.

You were just mad that he didn't say anything, making you worry if he was okay.

Fuck.

He dries off, get's dressed, and reemerges from the bathroom with a shameful stance, ready to apologize-

when he notices his apartment is empty. You've left, and he didn't even hear you leave, meaning you must've made sure he didn't notice. A text is sent to you, but he decides to try and call you straight after- but you don't pick up.

Another text is unanswered. Read, but never replied to.

The next few texts over the course of the night don't even get a 'read' anymore. He knows he must've hurt you to ignore him like that, because usually, you'll make your emotions known. You're bold and honest and open, it's what he loves about you- and right now, it terrifies him.

He wants you to shout at him. Yell at him, curse him out over text, anything.

But even the day after, you refuse to acknowledge any of his attempts at communication- even a knock on your door being ignored.

He really fucked up, didn't he?

"Pretty shit being ignored, hm?" You say behind him, putting the heavy looking grocery bags down next to you. He can see the way your fingers are red- they must be hurting bad from the weight of the bags having to be carried all the way from the store up here to your apartment. But even now that he's here, you slap his hands away from the bags when he tries to help, taking them from him instead. "You're not my slave, stop acting like it." You snap, not sparing him a glance as you take your bags inside, his hand quickly reaching out so the door can't fall shut.

"I'm sorry I said that-" He shamefully admits, quietly so, as he watches you unpack the groceries and put them away.

"hmhm." You just hum, still not looking at him.

He wants to say something, but he can't- he doesn't know what he should say, what he can say to make you feel just a little better. So he turns around, when suddenly, your hands slap your babypink kitchen counter.

"So now you're just gonna fuck off?" You say, loudly so, finally looking at him. "That's it? Just leave her be and she'll crawl back eventually?" You accuse, and he shakes his head. "Then what? What's the plan here?!" You yell, and he feels like a little kid getting scolded.

"I don't know what else to do." He whines a little, unsure, uncomfortable. He doesn't want to be in this situation, that's true- and usually, he would do exactly what you accuse him of. Leave, and hope that once he feels better, people will come back to him.

"You're my fucking boyfriend!" You whine, turning around to have your body face him. "I don't know, fucking hug me, or hold my hand, or give me a fucking sign that you care about me!" You say, voice cracking a bit. "We talked about this, Jungkook. I need things like that, I-" You swallow, hard. "-I need, like, something. Give me anything. I feel horrible right now." You beg, and at that he walks towards you, holds you close and sways you from side to side a bit while you hide your face in his chest. "I really love you, but that was mean.." You whimper, and he nods.

"I know." He agrees. "I'm sorry. I really am." He tells you again, and you nod, trying to break free again- but he doesn't budge. "No- you're right." He suddenly says. "I don't.. ever really hold you. I don't make any effort at all." Jungkook sighs, realizing what's been making you so uneasy since the beginning of your relationship. "I just.. I guess, hoped it would turn out okay. That my life is gonna.. stay the same, just with you in it now." He offers, and you cling a bit to the back of his shirt. "But that's the lazy way. And I should stop being lazy."

"I'm sorry I'm so difficult." You mumble against his chest. "I try not to be so clingy-"

"No, be clingy." He disagrees. "You've been... adjusting all the time. All up until now. If anything, you were forced to be my slave, not the other way around." Jungkook realizes. "And that.. needs to stop. I'll be better from now on." He promises.

"I don't want you to change-" You start, but he shakes his head again.

"'I'm not changing." He denies. "I'm gonna adjust, just like you did for me. I love when you're clingy, and loud, and dancing around in the morning, and when you send me weird pictures of dogs you meet every day." He chuckles. "I want to, you know.. aahrgh this is so fucking weird-" He complains to himself, and he laughs.

"No no no, go on, you're doing great." You joke, laughing along.

"I wanna.. you know. Call you stuff." He admits, and you lean away at that to look at him.

"Like, during sex? Geez we've not even had sex yet-" You start, but he shakes his head, ears red, clearly embarrassed.

"No, like.. you know. You call me stuff all the time." He tries again, and you suddenly seem to realize.

"Oooh, like Baby? Babe? Hot guy?" You say, and he nods.

"I don't wanna call you the last one but you get the point." He shrugs, and you nod.

"You don't have to, you know." You say, your arms now resting around his neck. "We can just do small steppies." You shrug.

"I know, but I want to." He admits. "It's just.. hard for me. So, I don't know.. please be patient with me." He carefully asks, and you suddenly smile, pulling him down for a quick peck on his lips.

"I can do that." You nod, before you part from him, dancing towards one of the grocery bags. "Now.. let's eat some icecream!" You laugh, and he shakes his head with a smile.

Happy that he's finally got you back.

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagine #bts jungkook x reader #bts jungkook fanfic #bts jungkook imagine #bts jeon jungkook x reader #bts jeon jungkook imagine

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upon-a-starry-night · 4 months

Text

Number Neighbors Pt. 13

Natasha Romanoff x Fem! Reader

Natasha Masterlist Series Masterlist

Word Count: 1.6k

Summary: When you catch sight of the newest trend going around you know you’re all but bound to at least try it, it was harmless anyway. What could possibly stem from something so little?

----

Natasha Romanoff did not like Leon.

She considered looking into him, if only for your safety.

She could probably pull his info from your contacts, but would you be mad at her if she did? That was never something she had to consider when looking into people before- or at least, their reactions never mattered to her. But yours did. It irked her to not know exactly why.

Last night when she stopped by that restaurant to give you dessert it took everything in her not to rush in there and meet you face to face.

Her hands were shaking when she wrote you that note, and her heart was pounding so hard she could feel it in her head.

The thought that you were right there, only a wall away on a date with some guy who probably wasn’t treating you as good as you deserved whirled around in her head the whole time.

The alley behind the restaurant was dirty and smelled like typical New York garbage but the memory was ingrained in her brain.

She didn’t know why she felt this infectious pull towards you.

If she hadn’t forced the waiter to wait until she left to give you the dessert she likely would have stayed to see your reaction.

But she couldn’t see you. Not yet. Not when she didn’t even know what this feeling she had was.

So she went to her closest friend and fellow Avenger who might know the answer: Clint.

She found him in the common room reading a book on the couch, although upon further observation he was napping with a book on his face.

“Hard at work there”

There was a disgruntled groan muffled by the book and Nat smirked at having woken the man.

“You can never give me a break can you?” Clint successfully removed the book from his face, sitting up on the couch as Nat sat on the chair askew from him.

“Just trying to make sure you finish your reading time before nap time or you might not get recess”

He rolled his eyes, leaning back into the couch and letting his head fall back against the furniture, staring at the ceiling he pinched his nose in frustration but Nat could see the smile he was failing to hide

“What do you want, Nat?”

Nat considered her approach for a moment, not used to these kinds of conversations. She crossed her arms over her chest and looked over his shoulder. Clint eyed her suspiciously from his place on the couch and she hated how easily he could pick up on her body language.

“This isn’t going to be our run-of-the-mill conversation is it?”

Nat didn’t have to answer for him to know the answer was No.

He sat up a little straighter then, maintaining whatever snippets of eye contact Nat would throw at him.

“Is this about that person you’ve been texting?” Nat’s eyes snapped to Clint’s, holding him in a gaze that has leveled the most powerful of men.

She should’ve known he would catch on, he was a trained spy as well, and she hadn’t exactly been that subtle about it. Still, part of her was scared to share you with her family, like the magic of your anonymity and personal conversations would be broken.

But as someone who was trained to always know everything about a subject before jumping into it and never let emotions be her weakness, she needed to know what about you kept throwing her from her usual nature.

“Nat, you know you can trust me” She did know that. She knew she could trust him with anything, the way he trusted her with Laura and his kids, and countless other things they shared over the years they’d known each other.

“Okay.”

So she told Clint about you, from the start and her apprehension, to her deep investigation into your background, to the moment you shared with her about the Battle of New York. Everything up to your new boy-friend, spare some intimate messages she didn’t think were necessary to bring up.

Throughout the whole ordeal of Nat expressing her concern for her unidentifiable emotions, Clint had been looking at her with surprise and she tried her best to ignore the small smirk that slowly grew bigger on his face. However, Clint’s obnoxious face made it impossible to ignore and eventually Nat gave in

“What?”

The word only made Clint shake his head silently which irked her further, she hated when he had some sort of leverage over her, his teasing was unbearable and annoying. She couldn’t imagine her life without it though.

“Nat I never thought I’d get to say this but- You’re jealous”

Nat’s annoyance was quickly accompanied by confusion.

“Jealous?” The very thought felt foolish, Nat very rarely felt jealous over anything. Most days she just felt lucky to be alive and surrounded by people who didn’t judge her for her past. “Jealous of what?” she huffed

“Of this guy Y/n’s hanging out with” Clint fixed her with a look that said ‘obviously’ and she resisted the urge to tase him in the side just to wipe the smirk from his face. She came to him because she didn’t know what she was feeling and he was making fun of her instead.

“Why would I be jealous of him? From what I've heard he’s got nothing going for him. He seems…bland and unoriginal, which doesn’t fit Y/n’s style. She deserves better than that”

Clint stared at her for a second and then immediately burst into unstoppable laughter, faking wiping a tear from his eye. She’d leveled him with a look that had him quickly clearing his throat, though the smirk never faded from his face.

“You like her”

Nat glared, annoyed at the obvious observation “of course I like her”

Clint had a sort of glee in his eyes she only saw when he was talking to his kids, it irked her that he found so much pleasure in having to describe her situation to her.

“No Nat, You like-like her”

She rolled her eyes “We’re not twelve Clint”

As he chuckled, a small amount of his amusement disappeared as he began to understand just how foreign something like this might be for someone who never got to experience love before.

It’s because of that fact that Clint decided to try a different approach

“Okay, how about this- how do you feel when she doesn’t text back?”

Nat shifted in her seat, considering it for a moment

“I get…bored I guess- I’ve gotten used to texting her, I don’t know what to do with my phone when she’s not texting”

Clint nodded, feeling excited for his friend to finally have someone special. Although he was definitely going to look into you to double check you were safe.

“Do you ever find yourself laughing at her jokes even if they’re really bad?”

Nodding, Nat let a small smile warm on her features as she recalled various bad jokes you’d attempted.

If anyone else had been telling her those jokes she probably would have sat there stone-faced until they felt uncomfortable enough to leave, but your pure delight when you’d sent her the messages had her chuckling at the stupidest anecdotes.

“How do you feel when you look at her?”

Nat stilled, playing with her fingers as she bit the inside of her cheek. Clint’s eyes widened at the realization

“Shit Nat, you’ve never even seen the girl?”

“I don’t need your judgment Clint” She clipped

He put his hands up in surrender “I’m not judging, I just- you’ve never even seen this girl and you’ve got romantic feelings for her”

The silence that hung in the air was palpable with a tension that probably couldn’t be cut by Nat’s best knife. The two spies leveled each other with their gazes. One of understanding and one of disbelief.

“...I’m not in love, Clint.”

Clint choked on his spit.

The words tasted bitter in her mouth. All her life Nat had been trained to think that love was a weakness, a sickness. Sometimes it felt like a sickness in her chest when she talked to you. The heavy feeling in her chest, her pulse increasing, speechlessness. She was pretty sure those were all symptoms of a pretty bad illness.

Love was not something she could afford.

An ironic thing for someone who had a billionaire on speed dial to say.

“Jesus- I don’t mean love, Nat. At least, not yet. But it’s obvious you feel strongly for the girl”

Liking you romantically?… She considered the thought, the way it made her heart race. In fear or hope she couldn’t decipher. She was terrified. Terrified at the idea of someone so new knowing her so intimately. Terrified at how much power you had over her.

A Crush? On You? She felt heat unconsciously rise to her cheeks but panic began to rise in her chest.

She’d never had a crush before.

Usually she was so confident around everyone but you left her flustered.

Could she allow herself to be that vulnerable? Could she allow herself to develop something more with you? What if you didn’t like her back? …What if you did?

She wasn’t as opposed to the idea as she thought she would have been…

Maybe she did have a Crush on you.

Nat tried to hide her flustered smile as Clint stared at her with a satisfied smile.

The thought that it was more than just a crush made a dangerous appearance that she quickly shot down. Because she couldn’t be feeling more than that could she?

She’d admit she harbors a connection with you that runs deeper than she’d ever anticipated but-

Can you really develop feelings for someone you’ve never met?

Suddenly, Friday interrupted over the intercom, informing them of an urgent mission that required both of them.

Nat was grateful for the interruption, although there was part of her that felt conflicted, knowing your reaction to her leaving wouldn’t be pleasant.

Pt.14

-Sorry no meet-up yet, Slowburn is the best kind of torture! Also thank God Nat is finally realizing her feelings~Starry

---Taglist--

@marvelwomen-simp @cd-4848 @wandanatlov3r @rebeltombraider @ctrlamira @fxckmiup @aliherreraaa @natsxwife @la-douler-ne-finite-jamais @romanoffsgal @moistblobfish @natashaswife4125 @elenimoris @how-to-disappearrr @screechcat @toouncreativeforausername @ordelixx @autorasexy

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viennakarma · 4 days

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hi! oh my gosh i loved wreck my plans, fernando is just chef’s kiss because that man was sooo patient he deserved that happy ending

even if you don’t add anymore parts to that story, i just wanted to ask how you think it would be between reader and nando in the future. and if luna gets a new sibling ☺️

Hi there! Thank you so much, hun.

So, a few head canons about the life after, in wreck my plans:

- You went back to social media after a while, and the followers were surprisingly receptive to you. There, you shared small snippets of your life (nothing too personal), pics of you, of Luna, your pets and even pics of Fernando (but they didn't show his face or anything recognizable).

- You found out you were pregnant again a little bit before your 3 year anniversary with Fernando, so you decided to tell him about the baby with a cute little present (a box with a custom AM baby onesie, baby socks with the number 14 and the positive pregnancy test). You moved in together around that time (Luna also started picking up spanish because of the familiarity of living with Fernando).

- Luna took the news very well, you and Fernando were scared she wasn't going to like it, but she was very excited about a little sibling. And because of Luna, it didn't take long for her to tell her dad about it. Which resulted in a frantic call you got from your Lewis late at night asking if it was true, he went ballistic once you confirmed and before he could do anything, you hung up on him.

- Only two weeks later, a paparazzi posted pictures he took of you, Luna and Fernando walking around in his hometown. It sent the world into a frenzy. You calmed down an angry Fernando telling him it was a coincidence, but deep down you knew it wasn't. Luckily, your pregnancy wasn't showing at that time, so no one noticed.

- You sent Lewis a big rant via text, and all the screenshots of the texts the woman who he cheated on you with sent you when you were pregnant with Luna. Then you blocked him before he could reply. There was a big wave of hatred towards you when the news came out, not only on social media, but also in general media outlets.

- Only a couple of days later, Lewis was questioned about your (now public) relationship with one of his rivals. Surprisingly, he said you were a single woman and he just wanted you to be happy. He also held himself accountable and came clean about the cheating that caused your relationship to end.

- Fernando wanted to retire immediately after finding out you were pregnant, but you convinced him to think better and at least finish the current season in Formula One. When the season ended, you were around five months pregnant.

- You went to the last race of that season with Fernando, a pretty dress that clung to your body as you proudly showed the baby bump and a jacket with a big 14 on the back. That was his last race before retirement and there was a small symbolic ceremony to celebrate his career.

- Fernando and Luna got a great relationship, and she even asked him to take her karting in his track frquently. She enjoyed time with him, and Fernando always respected his role as a step father. Eventually, after her brother, Vicenzo, was born, she started calling Fernando "Papá Nano" because her brother called him "Papá". (There was a long conversation with Lewis about his opinion on the matter, and after some discussion, he said Luna could call Fernando that as long as Lewis kept being the only Dad/Daddy)

- You and Lewis manage to get a good, respectable relationship for the sake of Luna. You never found out if he was the one who leaked your relationship with Fernando (and you never cared to ask).

- You and Fernando got married in a little intimate wedding ceremony on the beach, just the closest family and friends. Vicenzo was 2 and Luna was 7 when the wedding happened. You got pregnant again by accident after the honeymoon.

IDK I JUST THINK ABOUT AN OVERALL HAPPY ENDING BECAUSE READER DESERVES IT.

#f1 fanfic #fic talk #f1 x reader #ask rae #f1 imagine #f1 fic #fernando alonso x you #fernando alonso x reader

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exhuastedpigeon · 18 days

Text

Tease Tidbit Tuesday

is this a new wip? yeah, shut up about it. I went to see my friend's show on Friday and then I tipsy texted @acountrygirlsfun about this idea in a series of unhinged texts. So here's a little snippet from my new buddie wip where Buck and Eddie go to a country show.

The working title for this fic is cowboys are frequently secretly fond of each other because Orville Peck just dropped a version of the song with Willie Nelson and I'm a weak, weak person.

“Hey man,” Eddie jogged over to where Buck was rolling on the hoses, grabbing one end to help. Buck grinned at him, ignoring the way Eddie’s arms bulged as he rolled. “You just saw me like 10 ten minutes ago, why are you saying hi again,” Buck asked instead of standing there ogling his best friend. Buck really loved being bisexual, he loved how it felt like a piece of himself finally slid into place when he figured it out, he didn’t love how now he noticed every hot dude, including but limited to Eddie fucking Diaz. “I - you know what I don’t actually know,” Eddie said with a laugh. “Are you free Saturday? A friend, well, a guy I know from high school is playing a show in WeHo.” “Do you need me to watch Chris?” Buck asked, trying really hard to not sound bitter because he isn't. He’d gladly hang out with Chris. “No, no, he’s got a sleepover. I wanted you to come with me. Sophia heard about the show and bought me tickets without telling me,” Eddie huffed out another laugh. “Y-yeah I’m free. I can pick you up?” “We can grab an Uber from my place. He doesn’t go on until 10, but we could go early and check out some of the other acts?” “Sounds good,” Buck ducked his head so Eddie wouldn’t see him blush. He bit his tongue to hold back the second half of his sentence - the part of him that wanted to say ‘it’s a date’.

tagged by @devirnis @elvensorceress @rainbow-nerdss @jesuiscenseedormir @honestlydarkprincess @dangerpronebuddie @wildlife4life @spotsandsocks @neverevan @monsterrae1 @daffi-990 @tizniz @wikiangela

no pressure tagging @sunshinediaz @spagheddiediaz @goforkinard @thekristen999 @loserdiaz @rosieposiepuddingnpie @acountrygirlsfun @eddiebabygirldiaz @bucklikesboys @911-on-abc @steadfastsaturnsrings @watchyourbuck @underwater-ninja-13 @diazsdimples @cal-daisies-and-briars @watchyourbuck @actualalligator @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @ladydorian05 @bi-buckrights @shitouttabuck @hawkbutt @theotherbuckley @thewolvesof1998 @theplaceyoustillrememberdreaming and anyone else who wants to share!

#buddie wip #tease tidbit tuesday #buddie #my wip #wip: cowboys are frequently secretly fond of each other

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honest-moth-of-silver-grove · 2 months

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Could we maybe get like snippets or blurb about Hector having a wife w/ him when he goes to join dracula’s generals? And maybe she’s really kind to dracula and then it turns out she’s pregnant and reminds him of his late wife? Does it change his plans or maybe he decides to protect her/hector more so than the other humans?

TW: Some Domestic Violence, Mentions of Pregnancy, Talks of Abortion

It was a stormy, rainy night when a set of voices roused the young woman from her reading. For too long, she had a habit of getting lost in a text, be it fiction or fact, and losing herself to the words on the page, paying no mind to the reality around her.

It had become an even more frequent habit now that she was banished from her previous life, her artisan skills not being needed as frequently in her new home as she would have liked. Then again, it was not the worst of fates. Had she stayed in her family home, her life would have most certainly been cut short. Here, she was safe. Here, she was… well… almost loved.

The man of the house, the one who agreed to let her stay, was a peculiar one. He appeared rather simple unless you spoke to him on certain subjects: necromancy and animals, his two favorites.

His work was deviant. The young woman would go as far as to say it indubitably delved into the supernatural. Contrarily, it was his very association with the supernatural that drew her to him in the beginning.

Hearing what sounded like an unfamiliar voice, the young woman closed the book she was reading and placed it on the small wooden table in front of her. Looking down fondly, she gave the sleeping reanimated cat in her lap a few gentle pets before scooping them up and moving them onto the bed.

Yes, reinstilling the life of a dear feline friend may not seem worth a lifetime of isolation to some, but those simply did not understand the grand nature of the bond between cat and owner. The strange man of the house had brought her dear pet back to her, and despite what her fellow townspeople and own family thought, to her it was worth the duration of servitude she would no doubt be forced to continue in the man’s presence.

Said man was not overly cruel, although he did have a fair temper. His understanding of certain situations was rather naive, yet wholesome all the same.

As the two young people spent time near one another, the strange man and the young woman’s relationship grew. It blossomed from acquaintances to friends, and eventually to lovers, and understandably so. Their position to one another, in agreement with the man’s proximity to such strange magic, made it so they only had each other to rely on for interaction, for company, for… intimacy.

Of course, their first few instances of sex left much to be desired, if the older village women’s stories were anything to go on, but it mattered not to her. The strange man was gentle. He never once made a move to force himself upon her. And despite the woman’s own lack of experience, he always assured her, he was quite pleased about her efforts to please him. As far as they were concerned, they were officially a marital couple. Although they did not share rings or papers officiating their status as such, their entwined futures were enough to reassure the other of their intentions.

It certainly wasn’t the life the young woman had planned for herself as a little girl, but it was a life, therefore, it was good enough.

Hector, as peculiar as he was, was good enough for her.

And on the subject of Hector…

The young woman walked down the short corridor from their quaint shared bedroom to the main room of the house which Hector used for his rituals. It was very delicate magic, he once explained, so it could not be tampered with. The young woman didn’t mind. She came from a family of four, who all shared a single bed and a single rented room within a dwelling. Therefore, sharing a private bedroom within a private house with only one other person was very much a luxury, as far as she was concerned.

“Hector? Is that you?” Her soft voice asked, clearly curious. “I thought I heard voices.”

Appearing around the curve the young woman made her presence known, clothed in a simple muted dress, and old-yellowed apron. Her eyes were bright and clear, a direct contrast to the dark and dingy walls surrounding her person. Everything about her seemed too bright, too kind, too merciful to be inside the same home as a devil forgemaster, but there she was, clear as day.

In front of her, Hector shifted, clearly apologetic about his new wife’s timing. Not more than two long strides from him stood Lord Dracula, the king of vampires, and Hector’s respected friend. Mere seconds before her arrival, Dracula had informed Hector about the death of his own, very human wife.

Shuffling over to the young woman, Hector stood between the two strangers: his much older friend, and his new one, hoping to break some of the ambiguous unease between the two.

“Master Dracula,” Hector addressed the towering vampire in the room, “This is (Y/N). She’s my-”

“Friend”

“Wife.”

The young woman huffed, a slight blush rising to your cheeks. “Yes, ‘wife’, is what I meant to say. I’m, uh, still getting used to that,” she admitted bashfully.

After looking into the unfriendly gaze of Hector’s guest, the woman lowered her head, trying desperately to shrink herself under the vampire’s irate aura.

“I’m so sorry,” Hector repeated. “That you’ve lost your wife at a time when I’ve found mine.”

The woman’s bright, curious eyes turned back up. “Lost?”

“They killed her.” A deep, grave voice came from the behemoth of a man. “The stupid humans.”

The woman’s face contorted as a wave of sorrow rushed over her. “I… I am so sorry. That’s awful.”

Her condolences seemed to hang in the air, suffocating her more than the previous silence or Dracula’s gaze did. Taking the hint, the woman excused herself, retracing her steps back to the bedroom.

“I apologize for the intrusion. I’ll leave the two of you alone.”

━━◈◈◈━━

“I cannot believe you’re even considering this.” Already in their shared bed, the young woman lay there under the covers, her arms crossed defiantly.

“I don’t see why you’re so upset.” Across the small room, Hector worked to scrub off the blood and muck from his arms with a rag and a bucket of salted water. “He says it’s going to be a cull, a reduction in numbers, that’s all.” Grabbing a second towel, he dabbed his arms dry before moving to join his wife in bed.

“It’s genocide, Hector,” his wife spoke, her voice more urgent this time. “He is asking you to help commit genocide against your own people!”

Hector scoffed, his brows furrowed. “My own people cast me out, treated me like filth, and now, you ask me to have mercy for them?” There was a venomous edge to his voice his wife had never heard before.

Trying to rectify the conversation, the young woman swallowed harshly before continuing: “I know they were awful to you. I know they hurt you, and I know you didn’t deserve any of it.”

Hector sighed as he lay down beside his wife. Soothingly, (Y/N) began massaging soft circles into his scalp, waiting for the man to fall deeper into relaxation.

“I know you’re a good man Hector, and I am forever grateful for all that you’ve done for me. But this, this plan, it cannot end well. Not for you, not for me, not for anyone.”

With a jolt, one of Hector’s hands shot out, latching onto his wife’s hand, abruptly stopping her massage efforts. “I don’t want to have this conversation again,” he sneered. “I am going to help Dracula with his plan, and you’ll have no choice but to come with me. I am your husband and you are my wife. That is all there’s to be said on the subject.”

Just as suddenly as he grabbed her hand, Hector released it and turned over, facing away from his wife, before blowing out the last candle on their bedside table so the two of them could sleep.

Frozen in shock, and unable to move, (Y/N) lay there on her back, afraid to even breathe heavily, lest Hector turn back over and speak such harsh words to her again. Her wrist stung where he squeezed it, and the position it landed in was anything but comfortable, but she dared not shift it. Laying there, concentrating on both the ache in her wrist and her breathing, the young woman stared up at the pitch-black ceiling over their shared home before the exhaustion was too much to bear, and sleep overcame her.

━━◈◈◈━━

The move to the castle was silent. The young woman dared not speak lest she voice a contradictory opinion. Hector stayed silent as he simply had nothing else to say.

Dracula’s castle was beyond daunting. The structure appeared as if it were plucked directly out of hell: dark, and foreboding, with jagged architecture that seemed to change within a blink of an eye. The entire building housed an almost unbearable energy- one of decimation and total grief. It did not feel like the birthplace of some grand war plan, it felt more like society’s tomb.

Of course, (Y/N) could not say as much to her spouse, now that he was fully invested in aiding Dracula’s army. His forge was already set up within the castle, a molten hearth at the ready to create any instrument Hector would require in his efforts.

A little week into their stay, Hector emerged victorious from his forge, claiming he had made a perfectly balanced hammer, a tool that would enable him to forge night creatures at an unprecedented rate. He boasted to a very proud, but equally concerned (Y/N), how so few devil forgemasters ever made it to this phase of power.

Of course, his private proclamations made it all the more humorous when Isaac, another specially chosen devil forgemaster of Dracula showed up at the castle. Isaac, a much more stoic and disciplined man than Hector, used a blade, a red glowing dagger of sorts to create his night creatures. With a slice of the knife, Isaac could accomplish what it took Hector several hammer strikes to do.

The young woman held her tongue but secretly relished the indignity Hector must have initially felt upon meeting his colleague. Then again, whatever victory she felt was short-lived, as she too got the impression that Isaac cared as equally little for her as he did Hector.

Isaac became the least of her worries, however, when Dracula’s other generals and his vampire generals arrived one by one at his castle.

Each time Dracula introduced Isaac and Hector as his devil forgemasters, and her as Hector’s wife, she felt their red eyes sizing the young woman up like a piece of meat. Thankfully, Dracula made it clear that his three human guests were not to be harmed, and his dominion over the vampire generals was enough to keep them away from her.

Well, most of them anyway. Godbrand, a Viking vampire, was a different story entirely.

“I still don’t get what you see in the guy,” Godbrand questioned as he followed her down one of the castle’s many corridors. “I mean, sure, he can make night creatures, but he’s not a fighter. Hell, he’s barely a man! With his heart bleeding for all those little mistreated pets of his.”

She walked faster, doing her best not to spill the contents of the tray she was carrying. “Be that as it may,” she kept her voice curt, “Hector is my husband, and I am his wife. I made a promise.”

“Promises can be broken. I mean, it’s,” Godbrand emphasized his ‘s’es in between his slurred-sounding words. “Ss’not like you’re really married. Hector brought back your dead cat, as this deformed creature. That’s not exactly a wedding ceremony.”

The young woman rolled her eyes. “And what constitutes a marriage ritual where you’re from? A fight to the death?”

Godbrand chuckled. “You know, you may be the first human I don’t find fucking boring.”

The young woman grimaced, as she backed into a doorway, pushing open a heavy study door with her body. “Oh Godbrand,” she turned to enter the room, “If only I could say the same for you.”

Letting the door shut softly behind her, she ignored Godbrand’s continued grumblings. She had much more important matters to tend to.

Taking the two bowls of seeds off her tray, she placed them in new shallow dishes on her testing table. She then picked up the lidded cup, placing its cap to the side. She poured out a small amount of yellow liquid onto one of the bowls that contained new seeds as well as onto the bowl containing seeds from days before.

Placing the now empty cup back down on the tray, the young woman sighed. The older seeds were indeed beginning to sprout from their dishes, and to make matters worse, her monthly cycle was late. On all fronts, the message was clear: she was with child.

“Shit.”

━━◈◈◈━━

The young woman took a deep breath before knocking gently on Dracula’s door. She knew it was foolish for her to approach the man herself, but she found she could not face Hector, not after she discovered the truth of her condition. If she were to even look Hector in the eyes at the present moment, she feared all her composure would shatter, leaving her a sorry, sobbing mess in his arms.

Oh, his arms! How she longed to be in his arms once more. How she wished for a nighttime of conversation that used to follow their moments of shared pleasure. Now it was brief, still existent but wholly impersonal. The act was there, and all the motions were followed, but thanks to her line of continued questioning about Dracula and his intended efforts, Hector was often in no mood to sleep in the same bed as her, much less hold a conversation with her following a round of passion.

It just had all unraveled so fast.

It was on the anniversary of Dracula’s poor wife’s death when the first group of night creatures and vampire soldiers were released upon Targovieste. They spread out like a plague in the night, their howls hinting at what was only the beginning of all the unthinkable horrors they would unleash.

Before she knew it, the words were coming out of her mouth faster than her mind could think them, her new hormones no doubt adding fuel to the fire. “Traitor!” She had called him. “A child believing himself to be God, punishing the sins of man!”

In her fury, she could not control the veracity with which she spoke. The only thing that stopped her from berating Hector further was the sharp sting of an open palm slapped against her cheek. Stunned into silence and knocked to the ground, the young woman looked up at an equally shocked Hector through teary, blurred vision.

“I…” Hector started, almost at as much of a loss for words as she was. “I am so sorry, I…” he trailed off. He couldn’t finish his apology. How could he? When he was uncertain as to whether he even meant it.

Thankfully, Hector had the sense to leave his wife alone to wallow, and wail without his scrutiny, at the very least, allowing her the dignity to mourn the death of whatever they once shared, alone.

The test she had run confirmed her worst fears shortly after that. There was no mistaking it. The man who had forsaken his own species, the man who she once loved, the man who struck her down, was going to be the father of her child. That was unless she decided to do something else about it.

She knew Dracula himself possessed great knowledge. She also knew his late wife was a healer. No, even better, a doctor. Surely, she would have some collection of remedies and treatments on the subject. If she had heard correctly, Lisa Tepes was also a mother herself.

Recalling that fact, she shuddered. The thought of housing a human baby made her insides crawl, she didn’t even wish to begin to imagine what carrying a half-vampire child to term must be like. Perhaps, she mused, Dracula would be willing to speak on the subject, barring that he didn't strike her down for her insolence first.

“Master Dracula?” She asked as she pushed open the door to his study a sliver. “Permission to enter?”

With a loud sigh, the older vampire relented. “Granted.”

As the young woman entered, she was shocked to find such a large empty room. In the middle, sat Dracula in a large chair, and before him was a fireplace. Off to the side, there was a desk, with a portrait of the vampire lord’s late gorgeous wife above it. But aside from that, the room was sparsely decorated. It certainly did not feel like the study of a vampire lord. And in the middle of it all, sat a large, very disinterested, and downcast Master Dracula.

“What is it now? Have you come to make your case on behalf of the rest of humanity? Beg me to spare their souls?” His words were serious but his tone was largely indifferent.

“I see Hector’s spoken to you,” the young woman fiddled her fingers, shamefully. “ I must admit, my position has not changed. Nor has Hector’s. But no,” she settled for clasping her hands together, “That is not what I wish to speak to you about.

Dracula raised a brow, telling her to carry on in her explanation.

“I was wondering if you knew how I might go about procuring these items,” fishing out a parchment from her apron pocket, the young woman shakily extended her hand out to him.

Taking the paper much gentler than she expected, the vampire lord began to read the written list himself, his expression remaining unreadable. “Birthwort, yarrow, barberry, honey, and yue?”

“Yes,” the young woman confirmed. “I wasn’t certain if you had any here. I understand your late wife was a physician and that she learned much of what she knew from you. I thought perhaps some of these herbs would already be gathered and dried in storage within the castle.”

“Does Hector know?” Dracula finally turned his attention to the young woman as he asked.

Caught red-handed, the young woman looked down to the floor as she shook her head, hot embarrassed tears gathering at the corners of her eyes. “No,” she finally admitted. “I cannot bring myself to tell him.”

“You intend to keep this from him?”

“Why?” The young woman spoke up, louder than before. “Do you think I am denying him his right to inheritance? That I am betraying my wifely duties if I do not consult him first?”

“The decision concerns him as well.”

“The hell it does!” The rage that had been brewing in her stomach all this time once again found its way to her throat. “It’s my body that will be forced to endure the changes. It’s my body that will risk its life in childbirth. It’s my heart…” She clutched her chest as she spoke, her angry tears now falling freely. “...That will break when the child I have worked so hard to carry into this world is slaughtered right in front of me by a night creature of his own father’s making.”

Breaking into silent sobs, the woman shook her head, condemning her outburst of emotion.

From his chair Dracula said nothing. His irritation at her intrusion slowly faded away as he watched the formerly spirited young woman break down into tears.

Dracula turned his gaze away, looking over to the portrait of his wife as he recalled how conflicted he felt upon learning Lisa was pregnant. Despite his wife’s optimism and joy, he could not help but feel afraid for what lay ahead. Dhampir pregnancies were uncommon, and highly dangerous, especially in cases where the mother was human. He would have been more than ready to aid Lisa in terminating the pregnancy had she asked, only she hadn’t. Just short of eight months later, Adrian was born. It might very well have been both the most terrifying and the most joyous day of Vlad’s immortal life.

If Lisa was ever scared, she did not show it. Perhaps she knew she could not be scared, as Vlad would be fearful enough for the both of them. It was an entirely different situation than the one present before him now. Lisa and he were very much in love, and they had years of practice communicating with one another. Hector and his wife’s marriage was fresh. And in many ways, Hector was still a child, naive to the real world around him.

Not to mention, Hector’s wife did have a point. Dracula intended to end the human race, as well as the vampire race. No humanoids would be left on the planet once he was done with it. That included Hector and her, as well as any future children they might manage to have. It was only a matter of time. Hector did not know that, but she did. Which is precisely why she came to him.

How terrifying, he mused, it must have been to knock on his door and beg for an abortifacient, knowing full well he intended to kill all those like you sooner than later. How terrifying it must be to live in a castle surrounded by vampires, the undead, always hungry parasites, and have no choice but to hide behind an immature man who could not yet see the forest for the trees?

Perhaps the great lord Dracula did feel a semblance of pity for the young woman, if only for a moment.

On the far side of the study, the young woman managed to compose herself for the most part. She rubbed her eyes free of any tears and wiped her nose of any snot, only sniffling on occasion. “I apologize,” she began. “For my interruption and my… outburst.”

Dracula said nothing as he slowly stood to his impressive full height, nearly reaching the ceiling of the room they were in.

Suddenly struck by how close she was to such a powerful creature, the woman pushed herself against the farthest wall, trying to increase the space between her and the vampire lord.

“Do you wish to have this child?” He asked her.

“Only if I know they are never to suffer.”

Dracula gave a dry chuckle at her response.

Huffing, the woman smiled bashfully. “Yes, I suppose it sounds rather silly when said out loud. But it is the truth.”

“Suffering,” Dracula began, “Is not unique to the human condition.”

“Nor the vampire one I suppose.”

Dracula’s eyes softened upon hearing her words. “No,” he finally agreed. “No, it is not.”

The two of them stood suspended within the silence that followed for a great deal of time. Or rather, perhaps it merely felt like a great deal of time because it was one of the few sentences uttered out of pure unadulterated truth between them. Either way, neither of them moved. Neither of them spoke. They simply stood in each other’s company, occasionally making eye contact.

Although she found she quite enjoyed the comfortable silence as opposed to the oppressive kind that seemed to consume her in her previous conversations with Dracula, the young woman still found she had a pressing question on her mind. As such, she was the one to eventually break the silence.

“Do you think Hector would make a good father?” The young woman enquired, feeling much more impervious in her position to ask questions.

Dracula stayed silent.

She nodded solemnly. “That’s what I thought.” Her move to leave was interrupted by the sound of a chair scraping against the wooden floor behind her.

“Dracula, sir?” She asked through sniffles.

“Come,” he said, leading her out of her office. “There is something I wish to show you.”

━━◈◈◈━━

The castle was beyond enormous, there was no way around that. If one did not have a map of the grounds, or a guide to show them the way, it was amazingly simple to become lost in its maze of hallways and ever-changing corridors that seemed to spawn out of nowhere and vanish just as quickly as they came. It did not seem possible for a building to change and shift on its own, but, then again, it did not seem possible for a building to move from city to city in its entirety within the blink of an eye.

For the most part, the castle had settled once Dracula’s vampire generals and their troops arrived. It would have been too complicated to educate them all on the shifting nature of the castle, so Dracula demanded it cease. Even with the castle’s internal architecture remaining consistent, navigating the halls remained challenging. Especially for the lesser intelligent vampire spawn and the easily overwhelmed human partner of a devil forgemaster.

Dracula watched from the corridor as the young woman flitted about the apothecary room, taking breaks in between her searching various cabinets to look down at notes that no doubt once belonged to his wife. Lisa was always interested in aiding the other women of Wallachia, and she had a fondness for the maternal edge of medicine. Briefly, Dracula recalled the first time he had shown Lisa this room. Admittedly, Lisa’s reaction was quite similar to the one Hector’s wife was having now: full of not just awe, but determination as well. As it had mostly been frequented by his late wife during her time within the castle, it had been left alone to gather dust and cobwebs for the past several years or so. Still, if there was any lab or apothecary within Dracula’s home that had the processed herbs she was looking for, it was this particular room.

He led Hector’s wife there after their previous encounter, granting her his permission to take anything she found that she’d need. It was uncharacteristically generous of him to offer, but it did not make the young woman as pleased as she thought she’d be. This was what she wanted, right? To be rid of this child? Or was it possible she wished for something else?

Bitterly, Dracula knew it was not the child, but the circumstances, the young woman was considering aborting. She could not promise them a future, much less any degree of safety, so she was ending things before the pain became too great to do so. It was odd. The argument could be made that she was acting out of self-preservation, then again, it sounded as if the young woman knew her death was already imminent. To end this child’s life before it began was not an act of selfishness on her part, but an act of mercy. Despite the grief Dracula could see it caused her, this young woman was determined to prevent her child from seeing the horrors the world, his world, was capable of producing. It was selfless. It… It did not make sense.

Humans were selfish creatures, greedy, and cruel for sport. They thought only of themselves and anyone who dared show kindness or intelligence was cast out or killed. They did not deserve the teachings of his wife, who worked so hard to provide for their ill. They did not deserve Wallachia, nor did they deserve any part of the world. Their species was a plague, a never-ending mistake. They would not learn even if he gave them centuries more. They had to go and yet…

Before the last sunset, Dracula would not have cared how the humans suffered and died. Nor did he care about the vampires, who would inevitably turn on each other, once they were finally faced with starvation. All that mattered was their death- all of their deaths.

Then why was it that Lord Vlad Dracula Tepes could not think of anything but birth?

He had shown Hector’s wife what she asked for, he had given her the materials needed to prevent such a birth. Granted, it was what she had asked for. One favor for a selfless thing.

Perhaps… a long-since silent voice of reason in the back of Dracula’s mind spoke up… Perhaps there is hope for humanity yet? Maybe the good few, the intelligent, the brave, and the honorable could be… salvaged from this genocide? Perhaps what was needed was a true cull after all?

Seated once again in his study, Dracula gazed into the flames of the fireplace. He would need to make plans to speak with all his Generals tomorrow.

The war, as they knew it, was about to change.

A/N: Ahhhh! Why is it so longgggg? Forgive me for getting carried away. But to answer your question, I do think there’s a sliver of hope Dracula would be swayed not to stop or anything, but maybe to shift his plans to allow a select, approved few humans to survive. No idea how’d that’d be implemented or how the Generals would respond (prob not well lol.) But that’s sort of my line of thinking. I also believe he’d be even more encouraging for Hector and Isacc to become friends. For Sources, check out these super cool links: Medieval ‘Pregnancy Tests’: (x) And this really cool on medieval abortion/menstruation remedies: (x) And As always, if you liked it, please REBLOG!

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#castlevania imagines #castlevania imagine #hector castlevania #hector x reader #dracula castlevania #castlevania x reader

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