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#mind you that all of that happened in a few months? not counting the year on the island
starsinthesky5 · 1 day
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you are in love | joe burrow x reader
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description: how did you end up falling head over heels for the quarterback of the Cincinnati Bengals? but most importantly, how did the quarterback end up falling harder for you?
a/n: this is my first fic ever so bare with me! i’m still getting the hang of writing about joe. i have tried a few times but ended up deleting them because I didn’t like how they turned out LOL. buttt I got bored and got a little confidence and decided to try again. i hope you all like it (if anyone even reads this). this is based off of one of my favorite songs ever and I thought it would make a nice fic. i hope its not too cringe, enjoy :)
warnings: slight smut and allusions to sex, language
word count: 5.5 k
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present day:
One look, Dark Room
Meant just, For you
Time moved too fast, You play it back
“And that should do it,” Joe says as he places the final pillow onto the fort.
“Didn’t know you had “architect” in your job portfolio. This is impressive,” you giggled as you got into the fort.
“No need for the flattery babe, gotta make sure your first night here is comfy so you come back,” Joe replied while draping a blanket over your legs.
“Oh I’ll be back, someone has to use the massive pool, and knowing you, you won’t go in there without me,” you said while thinking about all the exciting things you’ll get to do with him at his new house.
“You got that right, but you’re the one who needs to hang on to me and use me as her personal flotation device,” he says as he settles on the pillows across from you.
“Well then, maybe you shouldn’t be so huggable Mr. Burrow,” you say before throwing a pillow at him.
Today was you and Joe’s 6 month anniversary. You two had spent the entire day moving Joe into his new house that he bought when he signed his extension. There were boxes everywhere and hardly any furniture set up, so Joe ended up building a blanket fort for the night. He spent every free moment apologizing for not being able to do something romantic for your anniversary, but you didn’t mind. Any moment with him was special.
“Thank you for helping me out today, I know you probably didn’t think we’d be spending most of the weekend doing this when I asked you to come to Cincinnati,” He said as he was fidgeting with his wristbands.
You lived all the way in Los Angeles and were currently in the middle of working on your 3rd studio album. You were in desperate need of a break and inspiration, so you jumped on the first flight to Cincinnati to see your favorite person.
“Joe, you've apologized enough. Seriously, it’s perfectly fine. You know that I don’t care about the fancy dates and over-the-top gestures. Any time we get to spend together means the world to me, even if it involves carefully moving your extensive Lego collection to the new house,” you chuckle while rubbing his foot.
Joe’s heart was exploding while you were talking. He seriously doesn’t understand how he got so lucky. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him and he wanted to do everything possible to show you. But the one thing he adored most about you was that you didn’t care for all the glitz and glamor of dating an NFL quarterback. And you loved that he didn’t care about your Hollywood status or all the attention you’d get from the public.
Joe got up on his knees and crawled over to the spot next to you. Once he sat down, you immediately latched onto him and buried yourself into his neck, missing the warmth of his body.
“See, you’re so huggable,” you murmured against his neck.
You heard him softly laugh and felt his hand move up your side, squeezing your arm. “How did I get so lucky” you wondered to yourself.
——————————————————
first meeting:
Buttons on a coat, Light-hearted joke
No proof, not much
But you saw enough
Flashback to July 4th: The Hamptons, New York
You dreaded going to the big 4th of July bash hosted by Micheal Rubin every year, but as an up-and-coming musician, saying “No” to this kind of party would be stupid given the number of connections you could make. The party would always have the most elite Celebrities, Models, Musicians, and Athletes; meaning a lot of small talk and fake laughing. This would be your third time going, and every time you end up sitting in the corner, alone with your way too strong Vodka Martini, counting down the minutes until you could leave. But this year, something was different.
You did end up sitting in the corner with your way too-strong Martini, but you weren't alone. And you certainly weren't counting down the minutes until you could leave. Hell, you were even wishing this night would never end.
“What happens to Football Players when they become blind?” he asked.
“Hmm, I don’t know,” you replied.
“They become referees,” he said while smirking.
“Joe! You can’t say that!” you wheezed out. You couldn't contain your laughter any longer. You weren’t sure if it was because of the Martini, or the fact that Joe Burrow was sitting next to you, also drinking a Vodka Martini.
“Hey, it’s the truth, but you didn’t hear that from me,” Joe said while throwing his hands up.
“You got it Mr. QB1, but I do agree; it’s such BS when they miss the most clear calls,” you giggled.
You weren’t really sure how you and Joe ended up basically spending the entire party by each other's side. One minute you're about to sit and scroll on your phone as usual, and the next thing you know you’re telling your life story to a guy you just met. Were you a little buzzed, absolutely. But something about him made you feel comfortable and safe, even though you just met.
“You’re really cool by the way,” Joe whispered.
“Gee, aren’t you Shakespeare,” you smiled and took another sip of your drink.
“Seriously though. The entire time we've been sitting here, not once did you purposefully bring up the fact that I’m an NFL quarterback. Not many girls can talk to me without bringing up football or trying to flirt with me. It’s exhausting,” he confessed but quickly realized how cocky he sounds. “Not that every girl tries to flirt with me,” he added. 
You laughed and said, “Well, lucky for you I find more value in real conversations than all that superficial stuff. I totally understand the feeling, I love talking to people about my music but after a certain point I just want to talk about normal things and have real conversation,”
I do think it’s cool that you’re a football player since I grew up watching it, but I want to know more about you, not the quarterback,” you continue.
“Well then Miss Y/N, I’m in New York for a few more days, let me take you out to dinner so you can get to know the real Joe a little more,” he boldly asked.
You stared into his deep blue eyes, eyes you wouldn’t mind getting lost in. Something about those eyes was promising. You’ve only just met him and for all you know, he could be a typical “Fuck Boy athlete” looking for a quick hookup. There was nothing to attest to what he was saying, but part of you was willing to take the risk. Something about him felt different.
“Earth to Y/N-”
“Okay,” was all you said.
Little did you know that saying yes to Joe was one of the best decisions you’ve ever made.
——————————————————
early dating:
Small talk, he drives
Coffee at midnight
The light reflects, The chain on your neck
He says, “Look up”, And your shoulders brush
No proof, one touch, But you felt enough
Flashback to your first time visiting Joe in Cincinnati
It had been a few weeks since you and Joe had dinner together and he had been nothing but a gentleman. The two of you talked about everything from your childhoods to your current aspirations, to your favorite music, and even geeking out about Marvel Movies plus everything nerdy. Joe made you feel good about yourself. He would always tell you how pretty you looked and paid the most attention whenever you would talk. He made you feel butterflies, something which you hadn’t felt in a long time.
After you left New York, the two of you couldn’t stop talking to each other. The silly conversations eventually turned into deep ones; you telling him things you’ve only shared with a select number of people. You felt comfortable when you were talking to him, so this wasn’t difficult for you. He shared things with you about himself that he would only share with those close to him, which was very few since he kept a tight circle. You both shared a mutual feeling of trust, willing to lay yourself bare just to get to know one another. You’d always text him after a vigorous studio sesh to vent and he would update you on his off-season progress. Those texts eventually turned into late-night facetimes, which ended up in Joe asking you to fly out and see him. You hesitated a bit before saying yes. In the back of your mind, you were scared. You knew that the more you two talked and saw one another, the more attached you’d get. He could break your heart into a thousand pieces if you weren’t careful. But you owed it to yourself and to Joe to try.
You hummed along to whatever song was playing on the radio as you looked out the window and watched the bright city skyline fade. It was currently midnight in Cincinnati and Joe insisted that he take you to his favorite secret spot on your first trip here.
“You tired?” Joe asked as he glanced over to you, taking in every one of your features.
God you looked so pretty, he thought. You were wearing one of his old Athens Football hoodies and had your hair in a messy bun. You weren’t wearing any makeup and even had on a pair of his slides, which were a few sizes too big. Even in your most natural state, he looked at you like you were a diamond.
“A little. Didn’t get a lot of sleep on the plane,” you yawned out.
“I promise this will be worth it,” Joe said as he placed his hand on your bare thigh.
You immediately tensed up at the foreign contact. Joe felt you tense up and went to remove his hand but you put it right back on your thigh and felt your face turning red. Your stomach was doing somersaults right now.
“Those damn butterflies,” you thought to yourself.
“So, how’s the album coming along?” Joe casually questioned as if he didn’t just make you want to scream out of excitement.
“It’s good, slow, but making progress. I feel like I’ve hit a dead end and am having major writer's block so I think stepping away from it for a little bit will be good for me. Things were getting a bit stuffy and loud. I feel like I was getting somewhere but it always ends up being nothing,” you say as you place your hand on top of his, playing with his fingers.
“That’s good, I hope this weekend will be a breath of fresh air for you. Don’t be too hard on yourself. Always remember that you’re doing your best,”
You looked over at Joe and felt your heart swell up. He knew exactly what to say and how to make a girl feel special.
~10 minutes later~
“We’re here,” Joe says as he turns off the car. 
You looked out the window and saw nothing but trees and grass. You were confused as to where he brought you but before you could ask him, he got out of the car and jogged to your door to open it for you.
“Thank you, Joey,” you blushed as he closed the door behind you.
Joe stepped behind you and whispered into your ear “Close your eyes, I promise it’ll make it even better”.
You closed your eyes and felt his hand on the small of your back. He led you through what felt like a clearing in the trees to a flat grassy patch. You could feel the cold wind against your bare legs meaning that you were out of the woods.
“Open,” he told you.
When you opened your eyes you were met with the most beautiful sight. The same skyline you saw up close, now you were looking at from a distance. It was breathtaking. In Front of you was a picnic blanket and a beautiful set up of candles.
“Holy shit Joe, this is beautiful,” you say in awe.
“Welcome to the lookout point. My favorite place to go when I need a minute alone. I also remember you mentioning how you loved looking at skylines during the sunset and even though we couldn’t make it for the sunset part, I thought this would be the next best thing,” He says as he leads you both to the blanket.
You both sat down on the blanket and he immediately pulled you into his chest. You both faced the bright skyline and all Joe could think about was how much peace he felt at that moment. It was just the two of you sitting in your own little world. The darkness and quietness around you both felt comforting because it was a sign that this moment was just for you both;  no outside noise or distractions.
“This is insane, I mean you can see the whole city and river from up here!” You say as you settle into his arms, your back to his chest.
“That’s not even the best part Y/N, look up,” He points.
You turn your head up to look at him and then you look up. You’re met with what is probably the clearest view of the stars you’ve ever gotten.
“It’s beautiful,” you whisper, not removing your eyes from the sky.
“You’re beautiful,” Joe says while looking down at you.
You got that feeling again. Your stomach was doing somersaults and the butterflies were back. Could this be that feeling? A feeling you hadn’t felt in a while? That feeling you get when the right person enters your life at the right time? Was Joe that person? So many questions filled your head that you didn’t realize Joe had been softly caressing your thigh the entire time which pulled you out of your trance. 
“That right there is the Big Dipper which points straight to-”
“Polaris,” you interrupt.
“Space nerd,” Joe shakes his head and laughs out.
“Don’t think I don’t know about your space nerdy ways Burrow, I know this is your domain,” you huff out. Joe had told you back in New York that he loved anything and everything space and physics-related. You admired how someone like him was a complete nerd under the tough shell he had. You naturally went back to your apartment and spent an hour or two updating yourself on space quick facts, which certainly paid off.
You slowly got out of his embrace and sat up across from him. 
“Is something wrong?” He asked with a hint of confusion in his voice.
“No, nothing’s wrong Joe,” you chuckle.
“It’s perfect actually. It’s all perfect. You’re perfect,” you say as you move closer to him, still sitting up. “You know how to make a girl feel special, this was really sweet of you Joe,” you say as you play with the strings of his your hoodie. 
“I just wanna make my girl feel special,” he confesses while moving your hair out of your face.
His girl.
Those were the only words you needed to hear before you jumped onto him and pressed your lips against his. His lips fit perfectly against yours like you were made for each other, so soft and sweet. He slipped his tongue in between the valley of your lips and entered your mouth which caused you to let out a soft whimper. You both spent a few moments exploring each other’s mouths before he broke apart the heated moment.
“I take that as a “yes I’ll be your girlfriend”,” he questioned while searching your face for an answer.
“I didn’t know you were asking,” you teased.
Joe’s face dropped, did he push you too fast? You noticed his facial expression change and immediately pressed a soft kiss onto the tip of his nose and laughed,  “Yes silly, I’ll be your girl,”.
——————————————————
it's getting serious:
Morning, his place, Burnt toast, Sunday 
You keep his shirt, He keeps his word
And for once, you let go, Of your fears & your ghosts 
One step, not much,  But it said enough
Flashback to Joe’s house (4 months into dating)
The warm sunlight flooded the room as you slowly woke up, your body sore and wrapped up in Joe’s sheets, and Joe himself. Joe was sound asleep, fully koala bear hugging you with his head on your chest. God, how does he look so perfect this early in the morning? His dirty blonde curls were sprawled out against your chest and his lips were curled up, almost smiling. Your eyes moved to his back, a few red scratches still visible. You made a mental note that you should probably trim down on the length of your acrylics if this was going to become a common thing for you two, smiling at the thought of what unfolded the night before. You freed your hand from under the sheets and moved it around his back, hoping to soothe any pain you caused. 
The two of you had stumbled into his house late last night after a delicious dinner and wine tasting at a local winery. You two had a few too many glasses of wine and were lucky you made it home in one piece. 
 Flashback to last night 
“I don’t think I’ve ever had that many glasses of wine in one sitting before,” you slurred as Joe led you inside the kitchen.
“Me either, next time make sure I stop after the 3rd glass. And it’s a good thing we got someone to take us back and forth,” he said as he took off his jacket and went to get you both some water. 
“Literally. If you were to drive I think we’d end up in the Ohio River,” you deadpanned. 
“Haha, really funny,” Joe said as he handed you a glass of water. 
“God my feet feel like they’re on fire,”. You wailed out while taking a sip of the icy cold beverage.
Joe looked over at you and saw you eyeing your feet. You were wearing a short skin-tight black dress; one of his favorites. The low cut of the dress highlighted your neck which had his favorite part of your outfit. The necklace he gave you for your 1 month anniversary. A simple pendant with the letter “J”. After he gave you that necklace, you never took it off. It became a part of you, and he noticed that. 
Joe crouched down and began untying your heels. 
“Joe you don’t have to do that,” you cooed while twirling your fingers through his hair. 
“I don’t have to, but I want to,” he said while flashing you a smile.
He helped you step out of your heels and back onto the ground. Once he got back up he wrapped his big hands around your waist and your hands immediately found their home around his neck and into his hair again.
You inched your face a little closer to his and pressed a delicate kiss onto his soft pink lips.
“Hi,” you whisper against his lips. This time, he pressed a soft kiss on your nose.
“Hi,” he whispered back, staring into your eyes.
“Tonight was really fun. Thank you for always knowing how to get my mind off of things,” you say while staring into his baby blues. 
“No need to thank me Y/N. I know how hard you work and how things can become overwhelming. I’m glad that I can get your mind off of things, even if it’s for a little bit,” 
He wasn’t wrong. Things often become too much for you back in LA and coming to Joe was your escape. Being with him blocked out the outside noise, you would completely forget about whatever was bothering you. You guys would often end up doing the most random things together, without any plan, but that was okay. Those nights where you’d end up eating Chinese takeout on the floor while building a new Lego set were your favorites. The hot summer days where you both would spend the entire afternoon attached to each other in the pool was one of your favorite ways to destress, it was just the two of you. He is your shelter in the hurricane that is your life. 
For Joe, it was very similar. Anytime football would get too real, he’d come straight to you. You were always there whenever he needed to vent or talk something out, knowing you’d always listen. You had been to every single one of his games so far and were always waiting for him in the suite after. Whether he was upset after a shitty game or on Cloud 9, you were always there waiting with open arms. And he loved it. He loved being able to share his high moments with you, even if you had to see some of his lows. Your relationship hadn’t become public yet, which you two were incredibly grateful for. You both were incredibly private people and wanted to take in as much as you could before the whole world had an opinion of your romance. Getting to know each other in private, away from prying eyes, was a blessing.
The two of you continued to stare into each other's eyes, you found yourself once again getting lost in his. 
You felt Joe’s hand migrate to your ass, giving it a soft squeeze.“Getting handsy now aren’t we, Burrow,” you softly giggled. 
“Can’t help it if my girl looks so goddamn beautiful in this dress,” he said matter-of-factly. 
“I appreciate the flattery Mr. Burrow, but do you need something from me or are you just being a flirt” you teased.
“I need you,” he blurted out. 
Your heart almost beat out of your chest when you heard him say that. You and Joe haven’t taken that step in your relationship. You’ve had your fair share of heated make-outs that occasionally involve wandering hands, but nothing like that has happened, yet. It’s not that you didn’t want to, god you wanted to. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t want to climb him like a tree. His perfectly sculpted chest, his muscular arms, those thighs, and that face. He made you weak in the knees, and he was well aware. He never pressured you to go there, letting you know that it’s okay to take things slow. But tonight you didn’t feel like taking it slow. 
“Then show me, Joe,” you said as you felt your arousal shoot up.
Joe immediately picked you up, bridal style, causing you to let out a shriek. Your arms wrapped around his neck as he launched you both up the stairs, taking the steps 2 at a time, eventually rushing into the bedroom.
“Joe, slow down!” You squeak out while laughing. 
He carefully laid you on his bed admiring you for a second; you looked perfect, even with messy hair and smudged makeup. Joe moved onto the bed and started placing soft butterfly kisses up your arm, right up to that spot on your neck that he knows you love.
“Joe, please,” You whimpered, fully implying you wanted more with the tone of your voice.
Joe removed himself from your neck, looked into your eyes, and said “Are you sure?”. 
You smiled and said “Absolutely,”. 
He then captured your lips in a passionate and deep kiss. You felt like kissing him till your lips fell off, it was like heaven when you two would connect. Slowly, both of your clothes ended up on the floor and those passion-filled kisses turned messy and sloppy. You felt those butterflies in your stomach again as he was kissing his way down your body. You did not doubt that Joe would be careful with you, and you knew he wanted this just as much as you did. 
End of Flashback
You decided to go back to sleep since it was still pretty early and you know Joe was tired from last night. You woke up a few hours later to the smell of cinnamon and coffee. 
“Mmmm,” You say as you stretch out. You didn’t feel any weight on you anymore so Joe must have woken up. You looked around the room and didn’t see him anywhere so you decided to freshen up in his bathroom and head downstairs. When you entered the bathroom you saw one of his shirts (a purple long sleeve LSU shirt aka one of your favs) on the counter with a sticky note saying “For you :)”. You put on the soft shirt (which was way too big) and start fixing your messy hair before heading downstairs. 
You walk into the kitchen and see the dining table decked out with a vase of pink carnations (which happens to be your favorite flower), 2 plates of French toast, and a smoothie for Joe. You also noticed a mug of coffee which made you smile. Joe knew that you would be a zombie the whole day if you didn’t have your daily morning coffee.  Joe was too busy cooking the bacon to notice you coming downstairs, so you walked up behind him and wrapped your hands around him from behind.
“Good morning sexy chef,” you murmured against his back.
“Tryna get me going again?” He teased. 
“You wish, last night was a damn workout. I need at least 3 hours to recover before we go at it again,” you giggled.  
You heard his soft laugh before he spun around and wrapped his hands around your waist. “Well, we will def be repeating that. “Sooner the better,” he added. 
“Horndog,” you said as you pressed a kiss on his cheek.
“Only for you babe,” he says before going back to the bacon. “I’m almost done with this, you can sit at the table.”
“Damn, quarterback, perfect boyfriend, and chef? Impressive job portfolio,” you say while walking to the table and sitting down. 
Joe finished cooking the bacon and sat down across from you. “The French toast is a little burnt, I got distracted by the TV,” he admitted. “They were showing this month’s Top 10 funniest cat videos.” 
You burst out laughing and say “Guess I should add Cat Lady to your job portfolio too,”
You two spent the morning digging into the delicious breakfast Joe had prepared, even though the French toast was slightly burnt. He talked about the upcoming football season and how excited he was for the new offensive schemes they had come up with. After breakfast, you both ended up on the couch and decided to play a round of go fish. You gave him some album updates, which he’d constantly ask for, and even played one of your demos for him. 
“Y/N this is amazing,” he said softly. The song he had just heard was called “Sweet Nothing”, and you weren't planning on ever letting anyone hear it because of how intimate and special it was. A big part of what you did involved you being in the public eye a lot, which allowed everyone to nitpick and talk about your life. It was exhausting how often people would comment on your relationships, friendships, career, body, and everything in between. They always expected you to be perfect in every aspect and when you weren’t, they would make it known. You had written about how Joe never expected anything from you like everyone else did. Being with him was easy and you knew you could always go to him whenever the background noise would get too loud. And now here he was, listening to those feelings you had a hard time saying out loud. 
“Thank you. To be honest I wasn’t planning on letting anyone hear that,” you say while looking down and fidgeting with your rings. 
“Really?” he asked. “It’s really good, and I’m not just saying that because I’m your boyfriend.” 
“Yep. I love it, I really do. I think it’s one of the best songs I’ve written so far, but I feel like it’s too bare and the fans won’t understand the real meaning behind the song. And I feel like they won’t like it.” 
“And that’s exactly why you should release it. I know the real you, and that is the real you,” he says while pointing at your phone. Screw the fans, you should do what makes you happy.” he says before reaching for your hand, giving it a tight squeeze. “You make music because that makes you happy and you shouldn’t have to worry about what people will say. If they have an issue with you doing what you want, then they are sure as hell not fans.” 
You got up on your knees and jumped onto Joe’s body, making you both lay flat against each other on the couch. 
“How do you always know what to say,” you beam while prepping soft kisses all over his face. 
Your heart felt like it was about to explode. It only took a few months for someone you just met to understand you more than people following your journey over the past few years. Joe’s words felt like a warm comforting hug, and they always made you feel like everything was going to be okay. You valued his words so much, you trusted him so much, and he loved that you were so open and vulnerable with him. He knew that opening up was difficult for you, and he felt at peace knowing you felt comfortable confiding in him. You weren't holding back anymore. You were 100% open and honest with him and he never took advantage of it. Your fears of getting hurt were fading away.
——————————————————
present day:
You kiss on sidewalks, You fight and you talk
One night he wakes, Strange look on his face,
Pauses, then says, “You’re my Best Friend”
And you knew what it was, He is in Love
“Y/N?” was all you heard as you felt your shoulder shake. “Did I lose you there?” Joe asked. 
“What?” you questioned as you looked up at him. You were back in the fort Joe built for you two. 
“I was asking what you thought of the house,” he says as he plays with your hair. “Is something wrong?” he asks. 
“Oh. Sorry, I must have dozed off for a second,” you lied, not admitting you were caught in a series of flashbacks. “I think it’s amazing. It’s sooo big and has so much potential.” you continue. 
“Yeah, it is pretty big,” he says with a sigh. You look up at him and immediately sense the change in his tone plus the dejected look on his face, “Is that not what you wanted?” you say with concern. “I thought you wanted a big house.” 
“I did, I do. I just don’t want to be alone in this big of a house when you aren’t here,” he confessed, feeling slightly embarrassed as if he didn’t have other things to occupy his free time. “Unless,” he added.
“Unless what?” you asked. 
He hesitated before saying, “Move in with me”. 
It took a few moments for your brain to register what he said to you. You immediately sat up, as did he. You were about to say something but he cut you off before you could.
“Y/N. These past 6 months have been nothing short of peaceful and amazing. Being with you brings me the balance I need in my life. I know that if I ever fly too high or get lost, I have someone who can find me and bring me back down. You are everything I’ve ever wanted in life, and now you’re everything I need.” he says. 
“You’re my biggest cheerleader, my support system, my safety net, but most importantly.” He pauses and says, "You're my best friend.” “And I love you.” he finishes. 
Those 3 words. The 3 words that you’ve wanted to say to him for months but didn’t because you weren’t entirely sure if he felt the same way. Those 3 words just came out of his mouth, and he meant it. He loved you more than anything and he needed to make it known. He needed to wake up to your smile every morning. He needed to hear your voice echo through the halls of the house. You made him feel loved, and he needed you to know that.
You didn’t realize the hot tears streaming down your cheeks until Joe lifted his hand and started wiping them.
“Y/N, are you okay?” he asks, feeling nervous since you didn’t respond to anything he just said. 
You started crying even harder. He loved you. He really loved you. 
“Y/N you’re scaring me”.
“Shut up,” you said before you put your hands on his face and brought him in for a passionate kiss. 
You kissed him for a few heartbeats and finally whispered against his lips “I love you,” loud enough for just him to hear before you captured his lips in another kiss.
He stops kissing you and stares into your eyes for a moment, getting lost in them like you do with his eyes. “So about my first question,” he beams. 
“Yes silly, I’ll move in with you,” you giggle. “Someone has to make sure that you don’t burn this place down while making french toast. You got lucky last time,” you laugh out while remembering that morning. 
“Haha, really funny babe,” he says before pulling you into a hug. The warmth of your bodies pressed together was the most comforting feeling in the world. Joe spent the rest of the night telling you how much he loved you, and you reciprocated the feeling by showing him how much you loved him.
We’re in love.
—The End—
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cottonlemonade · 2 days
Text
How You Met
word count: 927 || avg. reading time: 4 mins.
pairing: post time-skip Kita x chubby!Reader
genre: fluff
warnings: youths
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Kita pulled out his phone to take the obligatory picture of the first cherry blossoms of the year, angling the camera against the light of a street lamp for effect and ducking his shoulders against a brisk breeze that rocked the branches back and forth as if grabbed by an invisible hand. Pink petals fluttered through the air like snow and he took a deep breath, closing his eyes, listening intently to faint sounds of the city in the distance. When he opened his eyes again he spotted you and his heart gave a little jolt.
The first time he had seen you was around mid February when Atsumu and his then new girlfriend just started dating and were making good use of the friendly neighborhood taxi service. (Atsumu’s reckless driving had led to yet another suspension of his license so after promising Kita to help him out at the farm on his days off for a month, Kita agreed to drive him twice a week.)
One night, as he was picking up the lust-driven delinquent, his phone buzzed with a notification about a flash sale happening at a nearby boba store he liked. Seeing as he had already spent 20 minutes in the car, fruitlessly waiting for the new couple to wrap things up upstairs, he decided to take the short walk to quickly collect the promised deal and that’s when he saw you - your cute full cheeks cuddled into a thick scarf and puffy coat collar, waiting in line along with another dozen or so people. Once the boba and free snacks were retrieved, he and you met eyes for a moment. You tilted your head ever so slightly and gave a small curious smile before bowing and leaving.
After that you had run into each other every so often at that little park, sometimes over another sale at a food store of some kind, sometimes just because you were both taking a stroll in the crisp night air (one of you more voluntarily than the other) and over the following few weeks he realized he didn't seem to mind driving his former teammate all over town anymore - even going as far as to suggest additional visits to his girlfriend or to grab dinner at a restaurant in that neighborhood. Atsumu, while suspiciously squinting at him from the passenger seat every time, didn’t say anything.
Tonight it looked like you were coming from grocery shopping, readjusting a bag weighing heavy in your hand while trying to keep your purse from slipping off your shoulder. Your steps slowed for a second when you saw him standing there, his phone still in hand, blatantly staring at you and you smiled, giving the small wave that passed between you two as a routine greeting by now.
He swallowed and made his way towards you, ready to offer help carrying the bag when a lot of things happened very quickly. A group of teens dashed by on their bikes, not bothering to alert you of their presence, driving past so narrowly you were pushed from left to right, stumbling a little. He shouted after the boys to apologize but they just laughed and drove on. Kita turned around to you who looked shocked but unharmed and began to walk again when a last straggler from the group came racing along the pathway and knocked you to the ground, calling for his friends to wait.
Kita jogged over and knelt at your side.
“Are you alright?”, he asked, hesitating for a second, before grabbing your elbow, carefully pulling you to your feet. Your hands and knees were scraped, your bag torn. You nodded and he helped you to a nearby bench to sit down before swiftly gathering the scattered groceries, some beyond saving as the boys had driven over them, like splattered grapes and a split carton of milk.
“Thank you very much.”, you said and tried to shake strands of hair out of your face, unable to use your shivering hands.
Without thinking he raised his own to brush it back for you, his mouth feeling very dry when your eyes met.
After an impossibly long moment he cleared his throat and told you to stay put while he would head to the pharmacy around the corner and before you could stop him, he was on his way. You looked down at your ripped jeans - now more ripped and dirtied by the fall - and grimaced.
When he returned he knelt in front of you again, tearing open the bag of disinfectant wipes and after checking with you that he wasn't overstepping, began cleaning your knees and hands, reassuring you and careful he didn't touch you more than necessary, put plasters on the now cleaned cuts.
“Thank you.”, you said again and took the arm he had offered you to get up.
He held out a new bag he had gotten from the pharmacy in which he had stacked the few unscathed groceries and you accepted it with a bow.
You both stood there for a while, neither really knowing what to do next.
"Sorry for all the trouble.", you said finally and he looked at you, kneading your fingers, looking anywhere but at him and he saw a distinct blush creeping into your cheeks. You were even prettier up close.
"Don’t worry about it.", he said simply when his brain started to work again. A pleasant shiver trickled down your spine at his calm soft voice.
"Could I… invite you for some coffee tomorrow? As a Thank You."
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a/n: I wanted this to feel like the most cliched romance anime/kdrama meet cute imaginable.
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elsafromcabinsix · 2 days
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she is the light in his dark life
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summary: the one where barbara thinks about an act of rebellion.
pairing: jake x mc
word count: 1.3K
warnings: sitlihdl takes place after the events of episode 10; cover images found on pinterest; english is not my first language.
author’s note: this is the first chapter in a series, so it probably doesn't have much emotion, but trust me, it was fun to write.
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Barbara was sprawled out on the dorm carpet, reading a Lucy Maud Montgomery novel she found by chance in the university library, when her cell phone began vibrating on the nightstand. Without wasting time, she closed the book and got up, waiting to hear from her roommate. But when Barbara swiped his finger across the lock screen, she came across some text messages from an unknown number.
i would like to invite you again to eat something at that hinese restaurant
if you want to meet me, just show up there tomorrow
i'll be waiting for you :)
Her head started to throb just at the possibility of it being who she was imagining, but she quickly pushed the thought away. Jake wouldn't put himself in danger like that.
After everything that happened in Grimrock, Duskwood's chief of police, Alan Bloomgate, personally went after her to conduct the interrogation, and, more than once, made it very clear that it was best for her to stay away from her new friends for a while. He didn't go into detail when he told her about what happened at the Ironsplinter Mine, but he confirmed that Richy was alive — despite having some serious injuries — and that Jake had fled from the FBI agents during the confusion caused by the explosion.
All the messages she sent and received during that time became evidence. Barbara had what it took to close Hannah Donford's case literally in the palm of her hand, including the kidnapper's confession.
Consequently, she also had the means that could lead the people who were after Jake straight to him.
She was interrogated by the FBI countless times for months, until Alan decided to intervene and convinced her to hand over her cell phone to them in exchange for her old life. Since then, Barbara has not been part of the joint investigation. Or at least that's what they say — she's too smart to really believe that.
For a few seconds, she considered the chance that it was someone trying to play a trick on her. The video Lilly Donford posted accusing her of kidnapping had gone viral across the Columbia University campus. Even his grandmother, who lived in the interior of Brazil, found out about his involvement with a hacker wanted by the North American government. However, no one else knew about the brief conversation they had about the chinese restaurant.
Except, of course, the FBI.
Without a doubt, it was a trap. Barbara felt her face turn red. It seemed that solving an international murder case, giving up her privacy, being forced to abandon her group of friends and possibly cheating on the guy she was in love with was not enough. She also needed to act as bait when it was convenient.
Barbara huffed, irritated. Little did they know that Jake had no contact. Their partnership in crime had ended almost a year ago.
Still, there was no reason to decline the invitation. She could very well take advantage of the opportunity to tell some truths to those nosy agents, and as a bonus she would have an excuse to go to Germany without Alan being able to question her too openly.
His lips lifted into a smile as the plan emerged in his mind.
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After going through customs at Zurich Airport, picking up luggage and going to an exchange office to exchange some notes, only an hour and fifteen minutes by car separated Barbara from Duskwood. Luckily, there were several yellow taxis forming a line next to the sidewalk, because it would be a nightmare to have to deal with someone trying to compete for the same vehicle as her.
She walked out of the lounge, pulling her hot pink rolling suitcase, and turned on her smartphone to announce on the family's group chat that she had arrived safely. But before she could check her contact list to see if her parents were online, she collided with a young man's broad chest.
She jumped away from him, apologizing — or at least trying to — in german. He laughed softly, grabbing her arm to stop her from tripping over herself, and for a moment, Barbara forgot to even breathe. The young man seemed to be a few years older than her, he was wearing a white hooded sweatshirt and black jeans, he was tall, had dark hair and kind eyes.
“I'm sorry, I didn't see you.” He spoke in english, with a slight accent.
“No problem, it was my fault.” Barbara quickly straightened up, realizing that she had somehow stared too long.
The young man analyzed her from head to toe with amusement before bending down and picking up the cell phone that had flown out of her hand during the impact.
“I believe this is yours.” He joked, handing the device to her.
“Thank you.”
He nodded curtly and turned, making his way through the travelers entering and exiting the airport, as silent as a wraith.
She was inexplicably disappointed to see him leave, however she had more important things to deal with. Then, she handed the luggage to the driver to put in the trunk and got into the taxi, giving the address of the Gates Hotel, on the outskirts of Duskwood.
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Barbara ran across the room, feeling the cold floor beneath her feet. She was considerably late, but as far as she remembered, she had never arrived on time to participate in the interrogations, so whoever was waiting for her at the restaurant wouldn't mind too much. She put on a black strapless dress, put on her highest heels and curled her wet hair with her fingers, leaving a small trail of water on the floor.
Through an opening in the peach curtains, she noticed that the rain had picked up outside, beating violently against the window pane. She cursed under his breath, hoping someone at the front desk could lend her an umbrella, and before Barbara could procrastinate her meeting with the FBI special agent any further, she took one last look at the floor mirror near the entrance hall, realizing that she was dressed for revenge.
“Someone would definitely approve of that.”
Smiling to herself, she went down a small flight of stairs to the ground floor, where the girl at the reception was reading a magazine with Nicholas Galitzine's photo on the cover.
“How can I help you?” She asked in english, without taking his eyes off the celebrity gossip.
“Hey, how you doin'? Could you lend me an umbrella, please?”
“Of course.” She said, reaching for the object under the counter and handing it to her. “A fee of two euros will be added to your room bill.” Barbara sighed, surprised, as she mentally converted the currency. “What?” The receptionist looked up, frowning. “Did you think it would be free?”
“No, obviously not.” Barbara lied, smiling politely.
“Return it by midnight or I will have to charge the full value of the item.” The girl announced, turning his attention to the magazine. Then she added: “Nice dress.”
“Okay, I'll pay when I check out.” She assured, walking towards the glass doors while opening her rented umbrella. “And thank you.”
“Have fun, Cinderella.”
Barbara regretted walking out the door as soon as she set foot on the sidewalk. Not just because of the rain, but because of the wind blowing your hair back. In any case, she had come too far to give up, and despite the storm, she could see the lights of the chinese restaurant through the blue haze a few meters ahead, on the other side of the street.
Before she could take another step, someone grabbed her arm and turned her around.
“What?” She blinked in amazement at the handsome young man she had met at the airport.
“I need you to come with me.” He said, pulling her away from the hotel entrance.
“You are crazy? I do not know you!” Barbara shouted, dropping the umbrella near her feet. The rain completely drenched them both in moments. “Let me go!”
“Barbara, please.” He asked, breathing short.
The sadness in his voice stopped her struggling.
“How do you…?” She gasped, eyes wide. “Jake?”
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taglist: @daniiiworlds; @labemquarts
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baudelheiress · 2 years
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olaf IS cartoonish and campy but he was a very real and consistent threat to the baudelaires and i hate how much he’s sort of downplayed? throughout those books olaf is murdering people and terrorizing the orphans in genuinely scary ways (particularly violet who he and his associates constantly comment on her being pretty and who he was Especially predatory toward) that tends to be glossed over because of his theatrics. it was good he didn’t have a real redemption and that his last act being ‘noble’ is so minor and he makes a point of saying he didn’t apologize and showed no remorse and the baudelaires (and kit) did not forgive him, because at the end of the day, despite the major theme of the book, olaf is unforgivable. 
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yuwuta · 2 months
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RODEO STATION, 2 — MEGUMI FUSHIGURO
A collection of you and Megumi through the years, through Gojo’s eyes. 
content, warnings: childhood friends to lovers, canon-adjacent, satoru adopts megumi and tsumiki, reader has a cursed technique sort of delved into here
word count: 2.2k
part ii: you and megumi are ten, tsumiki is eleven, gojo is twenty-ish?, about six or seven months after gojo meets all of you, and adopts megumi and tsumiki. you can read part one here
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The moment that Satoru met him, he knew that Megumi was a little troublemaker and there was little he could do to stop that. Satoru didn’t mind for the most part, and he couldn’t blame the kid either—honestly, he was more surprised that Megumi didn’t routinely get himself into more trouble, but he supposes he has you and Tsumiki to thank for that. 
He’d naively believed that you and Tsumiki both played the role of anchoring maternal figure for Megumi, but it only takes a few weeks for Satoru to learn that it’s Tsumiki that serves as the anchor for you two. Satoru then earnestly wonders if you were bullying Megumi with the way you’re able to keep him under your thumb, but when Megumi adamantly refutes this with the nastiest, most offended scowl Satoru’s ever seen on a kid before, he backs off and reasons that this is just how your relationship with Megumi works.
And, as it turns out, Megumi is the only one doing any sort of bullying. He’s ten and Satoru has been to more parent-teacher conferences than any other parent has ever possibly attended in their lifetime. He didn’t even know that it was possible for kid his age to get kicked out of school, especially at this point in the year. There’s only three months left until summer vacation, so Satoru enlists Ieiri’s help in enrolling Megumi into public school to finish out fifth grade. She also reassures him that this separation from you and Tsumiki is temporary, and that you would all be able to attend middle school together again in the fall. 
The major problem then becomes that you all get dismissed at different times. You and Tsumiki used to end your days at the same time, but Tsumiki starts staying late to take piano lessons. However, this is remedied by the mother of a friend of Tsumiki’s, who drives her home afterwards; an older woman that Satoru becomes eternally grateful for. Even so, you’re dismissed thirty minutes before Megumi, and some shuffling has to be done to align your commutes. Satoru knows that the three of you took yourselves to and from school before he came into the picture, and that most kids your age are more than capable getting home on their own, but after you told him that some old man from the Kamo clan came to talk to you after school one day, he can’t help but to worry. 
Satoru isn’t your guardian, not in the way that he is for Megumi and Tsumiki, but that doesn’t mean that he doesn’t feel responsible for you—morally, financially, emotionally, and more importantly, for his own safety because he knows he’d have both Divine Dogs biting at his ankles if something curse-related happened to you and he didn’t do anything to stop it. 
You were currently under the care of your elderly great aunt who hadn’t a shred of cursed energy from what Satoru could tell. He had Principal Yaga do a background check, and found no other sorcerers in your immediate family, nor any traceable Kamo relatives, and more importantly, you didn’t possess any sort of Blood Manipulation technique. Satoru’s seen what you can do so far to control water, has even seen you give the Divine Dogs trouble in a gentle sparring match—you’re impressive, even at your young age, so he can understand why a powerful clan might see the potential in you, but the Kamo clan isn’t historically welcoming of outsiders. If you’re not related to them, he can’t fathom why any member would physically approach you. 
The old man never revealed his name to you, but Satoru’s certain it’s either a clan elder, or the current head himself; neither of which bring him any comfort. In the spirit of their traditional ways, he doubts anyone would actually try to harm you out in the open, but Satoru still wants to keep you on close watch for a little while. He thinks he’s the best man for the job. He’s quickly proven otherwise. 
He exorcises curses with a bit of hastiness and little tact in order to be there when you get dismissed from school. Ieiri says it’s creepy to follow you from a distance, but Satoru is just doing what he can to protect you. If somebody else is following you, he wants to see who they are. They’ll never approach or reveal themselves if he hovers next to you, and if you half the pride that Megumi has, you’d run him out of town if he ticked you off by playing overprotective big brother—so, instead, he positions himself far enough away to observe you, and close enough to defend if need be. 
He never needs to. 
For as wild and boisterous as you are with Megumi and Tsumiki, you follow a simple, quiet after school routine. You walk with Tsumiki and her friends to the west gate to drop them off at piano practice, then cross the street to buy a snack—this differs, but you always get a carton of strawberry milk—and then walk to the train station. It’s a ten minute walk from your school to the station, and a fifteen minute walk from Megumi’s school to the station, which is why Satoru doesn’t quite know how the kid manages to keep you waiting for only seven minutes on average when he already gets out of school thirty minutes after you. 
Once he gets over the initial shock, he can’t help but to be amused. He knows that when Megumi first changed schools, he started meeting you on the train, two stops later—at the one closer to his new school. But in the last week, Megumi has walked himself seventeen blocks east, at what Satoru guesses must be an inhuman pace, just to meet you at the station closest to you. 
When two weeks have passed since the unknown Kamo elder has contacted you, and no other incidents have occurred, Satoru resigns his position as perimeter watchdog. He has a bunch of missions to catch up on anyway, and he figures that you and Megumi are safe in each other’s care for now. 
A few weeks later, after catching up on his assignments, Satoru decides to check back in. He knows he doesn’t have to, but something in his stomach is telling him to. Maybe it has to do with the fact that the curse he fought earlier today had some kind of toxic blood that has him thinking the worst could happen to you, or getting a call that Megumi had been cutting some of his classes, or that he’s tired and delusional and worried and scared, or maybe it’s just his blooming maternal instincts telling him something is wrong, but he rushes to spy on your commute home. 
He’s late. Megumi isn’t with you, and you’re already on the train when he makes it to the station and he can sense two sources of cursed energy trailing way too close behind you just as the train doors shut. His mind is racing irrationally—is this an unusual move by the Kamo clan, or perhaps someone else? Word had certainly gotten around that he’d picked up Toji Fushiguro’s kid, plus another kid with immense cursed potential, and Satoru himself and the Gojo clan have more than enough enemies. Whatever it may be, he doesn’t take his chances, using his newly honed short-range teleportation skills to make it to the next station before the train can. 
He’s panting, thinking about every worst possible scenario at once, wondering how to best deal with whoever or whatever was targeting you, especially in such a crowded place, wondering if you’re safe, if Megumi was safe—why wasn’t he with you? Has someone already gotten to him, too? Was Tsumiki even at piano practice? Oh god, if he hasn’t already been kidnapped, Megumi is totally going to kill him if something happens to you. 
Satoru rushes onto the train as soon as the door opens, eyes wildly scanning for you through the crowd, ready to strike when he finally finds you—seated towards the back of the car, reading the book that Tsumiki had loaned to you, quietly, and both the black and white Divine Dogs sitting on either side of you. 
And Satoru has to laugh at himself. If he’d stopped for even a moment (or if he’d gotten more than two hours worth of sleep in the past three weeks trying to make up all his assignments), he’d have recognized Megumi’s residuals, would have recognized the energy of the dogs, and would have pieced together that there wasn’t a single threatening aura in the vicinity. 
Oopsies. 
“Gojo?” you call to him, not too loud as to not to disturb everyone else’s commute. “How come you’re here?” 
Satoru shuffles through the crowd and holds onto the overhead rail once he’s next to you. The white dog moves to settle underneath your short legs, blinking at him with disinterest. “Got off a little early today, thought I’d surprise you brats, that’s all,” he says, then motions to the dogs next to you, “Where’s Megumi?” 
You blink at him. Satoru knows you probably don’t believe him, but you spare him the embarrassment when you don’t push it further. “He had to make up a credit today, so he’s getting on at the next stop. Do you want a sandwich? They only had ones with peppers today, so Megumi won’t eat it, but Mr. Teuchi gave me two, anyway.” 
“What, is he allergic or something?” Satoru questions, accepting your offer, and the seat next to you when he starts to unwrap the sandwich. 
“No, he’s just picky,” you tell him, closing your book to unwrap yours, too. You’re quiet, taking your first two bites, before you turn to him again, “How did you know Megumi was missing?”
Satoru chokes. It gains him a few concerned stares, and even a pointed ear from the black dog, before he regains his composure. “Um... he tells me usually he follows you home from the other stop, that’s why.” 
“Then why didn’t you try to surprise us at the other stop?”
Satoru pauses again. Since when did ten year olds get so lippy and observant? “I did, but I was late. So I sort of,” Satoru leans down, crinkling the empty sandwich wrapper in his right hand and uses his left to beckon you towards him to whisper, “Teleported here.” He pulls back, prideful, and crosses his legs, “Pretty cool, right?” 
“So, why didn’t you just teleport to the first station when you realized you were going to be late?” You question, mocking his whispering tone when you repeat the word. 
“Hey, you think doing that kind of stuff comes automatically? I can’t just pop up anyplace at any time,” Satoru groans, a bit overdramatically, “Not yet, anyway. I’ll be able to do that soon.” 
You hum, kicking your legs happily as you take another bite out of your snack. “I think I get it. Megumi says it’s hard spreading out and controlling your cursed energy over long distances, but he’s been practicing hard. He can send the dogs way far away from him now.” 
“I see,” Satoru turns his chin down, eyeing the Divine Dogs with a gentle smile. He almost says that it’s easier to send shikigami on their own, especially those like Megumi’s, and particularly when you anchor them to another source of cursed energy such as yourself, but you look way too proud of Megumi for him to burst your bubble. He also declines to say that Megumi probably doesn’t send the dogs to you on days like this just for the sake of practicing. 
A crush isn’t quite exactly the motivation Satoru pictured when he told Megumi he’d have to work hard and get strong, but whatever works, works. 
Ten minutes later, the train comes to a steady halt. Megumi is the first new passenger on board, and unlike Satoru, he doesn’t need to turn his head wildly, every which way to find you. You’re like a beacon to Megumi, he easily finds the both of you in the last seats in the car, and steadily makes his way to you. 
Megumi greets you before he greets Satoru, taking the seat across and facing you before he turns to the taller man with a much less receptive frown, “What are you doing here?” 
“I believe the word you’re looking for is hello, Megumi,” Satoru teases, reaching across to ruffle his already unruly hair. Megumi grumbles, batting his offending hand away.
“Gojo ate your sandwich,” you chirp. 
“What?” Satoru yells, incredulous, “I did not. You gave it to me—tell him!” 
You have much more fun watching Satoru scramble than defending his honor. It’s only when Satoru gives his best pout that you admit to Megumi that you offered up his sandwich, consoling him with the fact that it included his least favorite ingredient and making it up by pulling out two cartons of strawberry milk for him. Megumi accepts them both with quiet thanks, cheeks growing pink to match the cartons, and you smiling widely when he takes his first sip. 
Satoru had a hunch those were for Megumi. So, this isn’t one-sided. Good for you kids. 
It’s another twenty-six minutes before it’s time for you all to get off the train. The Gojo-Fushiguro residence and your great aunt’s house are in opposite directions, but are both just a short five minute journey from the station exit. One you can certainly make on your own, and still, Megumi insists that you let the dogs walk with you and that he’ll release them once you’re home. 
“It’s good practice,” Megumi mumbles, shooing you on your way uphill, “I want to know how long I can keep them out, too.” 
You have that same look on your face that you had earlier, like you don’t quite believe Megumi, but just as with earlier, you don’t say anything, sparing Megumi and Satoru a formal goodbye and a wave before heading home. Satoru and Megumi turn to walk back to their own house, he can’t help but to smile every time Megumi turns his head to look back at your silhouette. 
Satoru decides that you’re not Megumi’s anchor, you’re the lighthouse that guides him to shore, a light that he follows with faith and reason; a safe haven that Megumi seeks to protect. Satoru can admire that, but he wonders what happened that could make the most unruly kid he knows pledge his allegiance like that. Megumi would have refused Satoru’s aid if he hadn’t agreed to let you stay in his life, and although he’d chalked it up to puppy love before, Satoru’s beginning to wonder if there’s anything he, or anyone, even could do to separate the two of you. 
Likely not, he concludes, when two weeks later, your class goes on a field trip and Megumi is the one who comes home exhausted and crashes onto the couch immediately. When Satoru asks, all he gets is a tired grunt; but shortly after Megumi falls asleep, he can feel a few extra shadows at his feet, and a glimpse of the white dog before she completely vanishes into the darkness. 
Satoru chuckles, leaning down to ruffle Megumi’s hair before heading to the kitchen to make a snack for Tsumiki. If this is the rate that Megumi trains to keep his loved ones protected, then Satoru has no worries about him getting strong enough to keep up with him.
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shadesoflsk · 12 days
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THE OLD WAY
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pairing: Leon Kennedy x fem reader
summary: Living at a farm and being married surely has it perks. However, Leon can't help but think something is missing.
warnings: smut, MDNI, oral (fem receiving) p in v, mating press (??), creampie, breeding kink, outdoor sex, age gap (unspecified), established relationship, fluff, Leon is so husband in this, mentions of pregnancy, domestic bliss.
word count: 4k
author's note: Hello! I had this fic in my drafts for sooo long. I was kind of ashamed to post this since it's not my usual type of content but !!! fuck it !! Ovulation goes brrr. I hope you all like it!I had an older Leon in mind but I used a re6 leon pic for funsies. (And please... don't judge the lack of creativity in my title... I didn't know what to write.)
MY MASTERLIST
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City life was no longer fitting for a man like him. Job was not the same and he was afraid he might not get up from one of his falls one day. Joints no longer worked like they used to, a painful reminder of how his age was getting to him.
That's why he chose to retire, rather early for the average citizen. But he believes his position as a federal agent has aged him to the point where he could easily describe himself as an 80 years old man who needed help crouching down.
With that in mind, he wasted no time buying a home away from civilization. Money was no problem and owning a ranch now sounded like the best idea he could come up with. Days turned into weeks, weeks into months, and months into years. Time seemed to flow faster as he settled down in a peaceful lifestyle.
Solitude was very much welcomed. The sounds of blood dripping and ragged screams were replaced by the soft pitty patter of the rain and the usual rooster’s crow each morning, announcing a new day. 
But, as much as he has grown to love and appreciate his simplistic routine, the monotonous daily work and the lack of companionship were hitting him hard. When night came and his thoughts clouded his rational side, he yearned for a change in his life. He was never the romantic type, never been. His previous job as an agent cut off any possibilities of having a partner and settling down like any normal person would. But years made him a sappy man, it seemed.
Life works in mysterious ways, though. He wouldn’t have thought that farm life would bring him a sweet thing like you. It all started with your car breaking down a few meters away from his farm. You wanted to thank him for his help, there was no way you would simply express your gratitude through words, not after his assistance. 
So, your first visit consisted of a home-baked pie which he reluctantly accepted. Not because he didn’t want to but it had been a while since he was last gifted something. That first meeting soon turned into a couple until you were basically there every day. 
“Stay with me,” shifted into a “Be my girlfriend” and therefore the “Marry me?” finally came. 
You were the best thing that has ever happened in his life, a peaceful life away from any danger the city may bring and a beautiful wife by his side? God granted him the most perfect miracle ever. 
He followed the milestones of your relationship to a T. Even though the lack of knowledge was sometimes obvious, he knew the basics of how to keep a girl—his girl— happy. It was in his nature to provide, and living with you meant no exception. 
He always strived to do better, to be better. Your needs were always met and he took pride in knowing he was your husband. No one else but him. 
However, he felt selfish when none of that actually fulfilled him. He was happy with you, don’t get him wrong. Nothing was like before when he thought he would die alone with no one who cared about him. But something in the back of his mind kept bothering him.
And ever since he realized something was missing, he couldn't help but try to find out what it was. 
For days and weeks, he tried picturing the change both of you needed. More pets? You had enough with the dog you both have. Vacations? He had already taken you to the beach. More space in your home? The house at the farm was alright… Maybe a little too big for just the two of you.
Oh.
Oh…
The problem was the two of you. Or rather, being just the two of you on this big ranch. 
He had come to realize that he could, in fact, dream bigger. A few years ago, he would have thought that being married was a faraway dream, unachievable and stupid. But now he’s a husband and maybe if he tries hard enough, he can get to be a family man.
However, nobody has taught him how to face these types of situations. Even when he asked you to be his wife, he needed months of preparation. How was he going to explain this desire to put a baby in you? 
On one peaceful night, he was spooning you as always. It was his favorite activity after taking care of his chores at the farm (and even doing some of yours just so you could relax more). But even when there was nothing but a comforting silence, his thoughts wouldn’t stop flooding his mind. 
He let one of his hands rest on your abdomen, caressing the skin there with circular motions. He tried closing his eyes to prevent more of those thoughts from coming to his mind yet it was useless. His imagination was running wild when he pictured you carrying a life in your belly, swollen and round, the perfect scenario.
He imagined taking care of you. Of course, his pretty wife won’t do anything if she’s next to him. There was no way he wouldn’t take that opportunity to show her how much of a man, a good man he was. 
Pressing a kiss to your cheek as he rested behind you, he spoke before even thinking what he was supposed to say.
“You would be a good mom, you know?” It slipped out of his mouth, he should’ve used a more discreet way of speaking his mind. Now it was too late to draw back.
“What?” You chuckled as you turned your head to look at Leon. “I’d look great as a mom?” 
“Yeah.” He whispered, finally admitting his desire to have a family. “What do you think?”
He wouldn’t push the matter if you don’t feel the same. As much as he loved the idea of having mini versions of both of you, there was no way he would force you to do it. 
“Mhm… I think you’d also be a great dad.” Your voice was as soft as his, indulging in this little moment of intimacy and raw honesty. 
The word dad rings in his mind. His life before having his ranch was violence-filled, then years of solitude surrounded by nothing but nature cornered him to think that being alone was his destiny. Now, you brought him a newfound desire to come back home and finding you and your child. A family.
“You think so?” 
“Absolutely.”
Leon had a silly smile formed on his face. His dreams were actually achievable and domesticity and tranquility were now his everyday life.
“We can try if you want.” You added, feeling how Leon continued drawing shapes on your stomach. “How many would you like?”
Leon didn’t think he would get this far. 
“Want me to be honest?” Leon’s lips curled into a mischievous smile. “I wouldn’t mind having an entire football team with you.” He joked, hearing how you gasped in response.
“Leon!” You slapped his hand out of your abdomen. “I’m the one having them!” 
Both of you laughed as the night embraced both of you like a blanket. Confessions have never been so much welcomed as tonight’s. 
“I love you.” He murmured as his eyes closed. It was a reassurance that whatever life had in store for both of you, he would gladly accept it.
“I love you more.” You replied with the same fondness as always. Drifting off to sleep was easier than ever.
-
Days passed and the conversation wasn’t forgotten. Nonetheless, you let the flow of time and life decide for both of you.
Daily chores needed to be completed no matter what. So, he’s now washing his hands after feeding the horses. You’re holding the garden hose which makes a wet mess given the force of the water. 
“Didn’t know it was raining.” Leon jokes as the water soaks his shirt and pants. 
“Shit, sorry.” You turn off the garden hose as you giggle watching how drenched Leon looks. 
And while you are genuinely sorry since Leon still has things to do on the farm, you can’t help but appreciate the image your husband is offering. White shirt now see-through, giving you the perfect view of his soft abdomen clinging to the fabric.
When you first met Leon, he had told you what an amazing body he had. With so much pride, he once showed you pictures of his past self. Images of a toned torso and strong arms would look appealing to your eyes. But each time Leon and you are intimate, you get to feel his slightly rounder belly pressed against you, his strong arms clinging to you. In those moments you can’t help but thank God for the gorgeous man you have. 
“Enjoying the view?” Leon breaks the silence when he feels your eyes not leaving his body. 
“Maybe…” You quietly whisper as you drop the hose and walk closer to him. “Can’t help it, my husband is so handsome.” You add, hiding your face in the crook of his neck. Inevitably, you inhaled the scent you have grown to love. 
For a moment, you stay there, just drowning in the affection letting your hands rest on his sides unaware of how Leon could feel the slight friction of your breasts against his soaked shirt. The thin fabric of your dress does a poor job of preventing Leon’s hands from wandering around your body. 
A pool of arousal starts setting in Leon as he reaches your ass and gives it a firm squeeze.
With one swift and smooth move, he lifts you off the ground. Your feet are no longer touching the floor as Leon walks away from the barn. And, as if on command, you wrap your legs around his torso, allowing him to walk easier to whatever destination he had in mind.
For once, Leon hates the fact that he owns a big ass farm. His place is a bit far away from the barn, so his decisions are fogged by the desire and neediness he is feeling at the moment. Years in solitude led him to think he was imponent but with the way his jeans seem to get tighter each time your lower half brushes against his, he knows it's not true.
He is a gentleman, don’t get him wrong. He’d have picked you up and carried you to his bedroom as usual, laid you on the bed, taken off your clothes, and fucked you gently (or rough) like he usually did. However, a newfound wish piqued his interest, and even though you're in a secluded area, he wishes everyone would know what pretty girl he got.
Without further thinking and no complaints made, he places you down on the grass. The sensation of the blades tickling your skin is, in a way, bothersome, but your brain is easily turned into mush every time Leon dares to touch you.
Leon, however, wouldn’t allow you to feel any discomfort. His sun-kissed skin would be exposed in swift motion as he takes off his wet shirt. Those antagonizing seconds of admiring him unbuttoning the fabric push you to press your thighs together, seeking any type of release or mere pleasure.
“Up,” And after those endless seconds of him taking off his shirt, his hand taps your hip, motioning you to lift the lower half of your body for him to lay his shirt there. Giving no second thoughts, you raise your rear, pathetically quick, and Leon notices. “So needy, have I been slacking off?”
And his tone gives him away. He is looking forward to letting nature be the witness of your lustful acts. The sun being your light and the grass your makeshift bed. His body embraces the position on top of you.
“Of course I have.” He cooes, bringing his face lower and lower before pressing his cheek against your inner thigh. His stubble resembles sandpaper with how it scratches your skin, but at this point, it brings more pleasure than annoyance. “Look at her, already crying for me.”
His breath tickles the middle area between your legs. The wet spot in your panties is obvious to Leon who wastes no time to bring up that fact. And you want to thank yourself for choosing a dress today because there is no way you could do anything besides laying on the grass and letting Leon treat you so nicely and tenderly.
“How could I?” He hums against the soaked patch of the fabric. “Been neglecting my pretty girl.” He presses a kiss on your clothed area, dragging down the anticipated pleasure you’re looking for. 
“Mhm… please.” Your babbles gain a chuckle out of Leon’s lips. He is enjoying the whole setting, he wouldn’t have known he had a thing for outdoor sex but then again, he loves discovering new things with you. 
Antagonistically, he lifts your dress until it reaches your abdomen and exposes your lower half.
And finally, his fingers hook around the sides of your panties, yanking down the fabric, allowing himself to admire the way he has made a mess of you already. 
As always, he was ready for his favorite meal in the whole world.
Lying on his stomach, he props up on his elbows, his mouth dives into your pussy as his tongue laps at your clit. A moan escapes your lips as the sensation of being eaten out by Leon floods your mind and soul. 
He feasts like a starved man, like he is eating his favorite dessert. He delves into your aching hole, his tongue tasting the sweet and well-known flavor of your juices. He brings your legs over his shoulders, propping you to raise your lower half and reach even deeper. 
“Shit,” Your fingers tangle in his dirty blond hair, shoving his face into your cunt. His lips suck your clit, paying close attention to that part, drawing moans and whines out of you. 
A plethora of names are being said as Leon continues being trapped between your thighs. He flicks his tongue while he feels how some of your slick drips to his stubble. And with the way your legs squeeze him even tighter, he can already guess you’re feeling so much pleasure from his tongue alone.
You arch your back, trying to bring him even closer to your core. The wet noises of his saliva and your slick mix with the outdoor ones. The soft rustling of the trees’ leaves and the birds chirping are a reminder of the scenario you both are in.
Whimpers leave your lips as Leon's tongue makes out with your cunt. Your fingers grip the shirt Leon placed as a makeshift blanket. Heat starts pooling in your belly as the antagonizing seconds of Leon eating you out bring you to the edge.
At last, your body jerks and comes undone in Leon’s grasp. He holds you in place, flattening his tongue to collect every drop of your slick. He could easily cum too just by the fact he was tasting your release. 
“My sweet girl, always so perfect for me.” He finally disconnects from your pussy to crawl back to where your face is. He places some kisses on your neck which is glistening with a layer of sweat given how much pleasure you were previously feeling. 
At last, his lips reach yours and he passionately kisses you. You could easily taste yourself in the kiss yet you don’t care at this very moment. 
For a moment, he indulges in the tenderness of the kiss after bringing you to heaven with just his tongue alone. However, the easily noticeable restraint in his jeans was getting harder to control. 
You feel him grind against you, seeking any type of friction to ease the aching feeling of his erection. 
“Leon… I can’t….” Leon’s intentions are obvious as you feel his clothed dick humping your leg like a needy man yet, you are still tender from your ecstasy. 
“You can…” He brings his face against the crook of your neck once again, placing wet kisses around your skin. “Just one more baby.”
He pleads, he begs, he needs to feel you wrapped around him. Those thoughts about leaving his mark, leaving his seed in you are still pretty much present. So at last, you nod. That’s when you can feel a smile forming on his lips which continue being pressed against your neck. 
“Thank you, thank you.” Acting like he hasn’t touched for ages, you hear the rustle of fabric and his belt buckle falling to the ground. You see how his dick springs out of his boxers when he pulls them down, already leaking precum just from eating you out.
In less than a second, you feel him collecting your previous release, sliding his cock through your folds with such ease that it had you gripping air. 
“Fuck…” He murmurs as he pushes himself painfully slowly, taking his time to feel how your walls tighten around his length. Pinned underneath him, you feel overwhelmed by the sensation of having his body so close to you. 
“My pretty wife…” He whispers as he is finally all the way in. “Look at you, so pretty full of me.” He adds while one of his hands caresses your hair.
He starts gently rocking against your body, the pace is slow and comforting as if trying to remember the way your velvety walls clamp his dick, the stretch being something you’re accustomed to.
“I love you so much, you know that?” He says as he thrusts inside of you, this time a little more urgently. The hand that was previously running through your hair wraps around your waist and lifts it slightly. 
“Mhm…yes.” You nod as your eyes lock with his, witnessing a newfound desire you haven’t seen before. Maybe it was the fact that both of you are outdoors, you don’t know. 
The sounds of his skin slapping against yours mix with your heavy breaths. The perfect music for the perfect scenario. As soon as Leon hits that sweet spot of yours, you whimper his name like a mantra. 
And then again, the thought of a family floods his mind. The mental image of your belly stretching out, making space for the baby is everything he longs for. And not only that, but he craves to take care of you, his pretty wife. You wouldn’t need to lift a finger for the nine months of pregnancy. 
“Wanna fill you up.” He finally confesses in a moan. He isn’t a stranger to dirty talk, you know it well. The way his words come out like a promise and an already-made decision is proof of his not so hidden wish. “This farm is lonely with just the two of us…”
And as he presses his forehead against yours, you see in his eyes the devotion he has for you. The same man that promised you the world is now promising a life, a new life who is going to be the perfect combination of both you and him.
“What’chu mean?” You feign ignorance just for the sake of hearing those words coming out of his mouth again. And as you try to say some more teasing words, you can feel the way his thrusts get rougher as if trying to make a statement. The statement being that he wouldn’t stop until you get pregnant.
“You know what I mean…” He is huffing by now, letting out a grunt as he utters those words. “Wanna get you nice and full.”
Ultimately, your dreams are the same as his. So you allow him to transform this dream of his into his—your—reality now.
“Yeah?” You say through your teeth, trying not to whimper from the fact that his cock is reaching so deep into you. 
“Yeah.” He groans, his sticky forehead never leaving yours as he looks into your eyes and your dazed-out expression. “You’re gonna look so goddamn beautiful as a momma.” 
Out of desperation to fuck you even deeper, he brings your legs to his shoulders, just like he previously did when he was eating you out. But this time, it is an attempt to let his dick mark your womb. 
It is his mission to one day see a positive test. It’s his mission to show his devotion to his princess and the now-future mother of his children. He’d never stop looking at the telltale of his seed making its home in your body. 
He wouldn’t let you do anything besides resting and growing your little miracle. He’d cook, he’d clean, he’d feed you if you ask him to. 
“Keep squeezing me like that, I’m gonna—fuck—cum…” He effortlessly bends your knees even more, bringing them closer to your chest.  “Gonna fill you up until I’m so damn empty.” 
He takes advantage of the vulnerable position you’re in to bring a hand to your clit. Rubbing it, he waits for the imminent climax of both of you.
“Cum for me, princess.” He presses his body on top of you, the position allowing him to let out an almost growl against your ear. The sense of purpose that Leon is showing prompts you to finally reach your climax. With a broken voice and your fingernails leaving crescent moons on his back, you coat his dick with your release. A gooey ring forms at the base of his cock every time he pulls in and out of you. 
His actions don’t stop there, though. He was so close to spilling right inside you and making his dreams come true. He brings the hand that was previously teasing your clit to your face, brushing away some of your hair that has stuck to your forehead, he looks right into your eyes.
“Fucking love you so much.” He grunts, his deep sea eyes never leaving yours, as if trying to engrave this moment in his mind. To forever remember the time when he finally achieved his dream. “You’ll be the prettiest momma ever.”
Although his thrusts are too much for you to handle and the overstimulation turns into a slight discomfort, the way his hand is gently caressing your cheek—a juxtaposition of his determined attempt of marking you— makes you melt on the spot.
And especially since the cold feeling of his wedding ring reminds you of the amazing man you married.
“I'm cumming.” He warns you as his thrusts get sloppy and without rhythm. He's seeing stars at this moment, every time he plunges his dick into you he reaches the sky. And at last, with the way his breath gets laboured and heavy, it announces his high coming.
The head of his dick spurts rope after rope of cum into you, the angle you are in makes it easier for it not to drip out of you. He wouldn’t allow a drop of his seed to go to waste. 
You feel the warm and thick liquid filling your insides, proof of Leon’s actions and therefore fulfilled wish. For a moment, you stay there letting his weight crush you and your bent legs. 
After a while, he slowly slips out of you, carefully placing your legs on the ground. You feel the grass blades tickling your calves where Leon’s shirt doesn’t reach. 
Leon rests his arm next to your head, admiring the dazed-out expression you have after letting him fill you.
“Hey…” He murmurs before letting out a soft chuckle. 
“Hi you.” You respond with a smile amidst the exhaustion that is running through your veins. “We really just did that.”
“Yeah…” In his eyes, you can observe how much love he has for you and how eager he is to know if this one dream will be a reality.
With his free hand, he grabs yours and places soft pecks on your knuckles. 
“Are you okay?” He once again speaks, now making sure you are alright. 
“More than okay.” 
He gives your knuckles one last kiss before he lets out a breathy laugh, shaking his head while doing so.
“A penny for your thoughts?” You ask.
“Nothing…” He shakes his head once again. “It's just that… I may have some dad jokes already prepared.”
“Shut up, Leon.”
You couldn’t wait to know if your dreams were achieved by this act. You couldn’t wait to see if your life could get even better than this. And especially, you couldn’t wait to experience being a family.
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💬 shadesoflsk: Comments, reblogs and likes are very much appreciated.
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tojikai · 8 months
Text
Sundered 4: GEARS
Pairing: Gojo x reader
Part 1  |  Part 2  | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 …+
Genre: Angst
tags/cw: angst, mean!gojo(kinda), babydaddy!gojo, babymomma!reader, motherhood, insecurities, suggestive smut, arguments, name-calling, L-bombs(lol)
word count: 6.7k
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Decisions take seconds to make but can take months and even years to realize and regret. 
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“I still love you, Y/N. So, so much.” 
Satoru wept, sniffing as he ran his fingers through his sweat-soaked hair. His vision was cloudy but the memories in his head were crystal clear. The day he met you, the day you told him the news; it was unexpected, but it gave Satoru a warm feeling in his chest. How could he let himself forget that feeling so easily? 
You don’t get to get her back. A voice in his head once again whispered to him, allowing sobs to erupt from his lips. 
The day he separated from you, he told you you’ll make things work, no matter what it takes. A few weeks after that his mother introduced Naomi to him. It wasn’t her job but she helped him work on himself, gave him all that she has to offer, and held him when he felt like losing his mind.
You were almost out of reach, mostly just talking to him when it concerns your daughter. It almost felt like he was fighting alone. It made him feel like he was not changing anything. He barely sees your face; barely feels you. 
And then it happened, in such a short span of time. Naomi was the only one he sees, the only one he feels with him. 
“It could work, you know? But only if both sides are committed to making it work.” She said, “But like these gears,” She pointed at the constructible toy train of his daughter, “The gears will only work if they fit.” Satoru didn’t need to hear any more of her words to understand what she was trying to explain. 
He found himself smiling at her smiles and laughing at her laugh. He found himself saying: “We kinda fit, don’t you think?” nudging her playfully as they walked Yui to the park, earning a shy laugh from her.
He found himself spending more time with Naomi than spending time figuring things out with you. It all just happened in such a short span of time. 
It felt like setting himself free when he didn’t have to think about the problems with you. It was emancipating to just lie under the covers, snuggled up in bed with Naomi’s skin against his. It was a breath of fresh air to share the same breath as her every morning and night as they soak in each other’s embrace, feeling the warmth of their swollen lips on one another.
He wishes that he considered the day he’ll see you like that with someone else. 
To say that he was shocked when you came and saw him with Naomi was an understatement. He didn’t want it to be like that. He wanted to introduce her to you, to explain things to you, but for some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He didn’t want you to think that you meant nothing to him. But at that time, he thought that he meant nothing to you. 
He searched for the emotions in your eyes but failed. He waited for your questions of “Why?” and “How?” but they never came. It’s like you just really stopped giving two shits about whatever happens in your relationship. And Naomi’s words reverberated in his head: “The gears will only work if they match.” 
And that’s how his decisions were made. 
That you deserve someone who’ll treat you how you want to be treated; that he deserves this serenity with Naomi, too. He’s not some kind of hero to keep heading for war when there’s a humble abode waiting for him. He thought that there was nothing for you and him but different paths. Maybe this is how falling out of love happens, he thought.
And that is how he learned that decisions can sometimes take months and even years to realize and regret. 
“I love you too much to fight anymore, Y/N.” Satoru was pretty sure that he was inaudible and incomprehensible by now. The cracks in his voice and his occasional hiccups were probably louder than any sound near his phone. “You know, I never meant any of the shit I said to you that day. You and Yui were the best thing to ever happen to me, never will I regret you, love.” 
He couldn’t even pay attention to your voice as he harshly wiped his tears away, blinking his eyes to look up at the blurry, colorful lights “I know you’re happy, I know you don’t even want to see me again if you’re given a choice.” Satoru shook his head, undoing the first two buttons of his shirt so as to help with the ache that is now smoldering his chest.
“But I just want to take those words back.” He whispered, running out of breath before quickly gasping, “Hell, I just want to take everything I did after I gave up on us back.” Getting nothing was painful enough, and so is getting up. 
He doesn’t know where he’s going but he trusts that his feet will take them to where he belongs.
—---------------------------------------
“Yeah, she’s sleeping now. Sunburnt and all.” You laughed, tilting your head as you tried to hold your phone between your ear and your shoulder. “‘Gumi talk, Daddy. Pwease,” You heard Megumi’s voice over Toji’s chuckles. You and Yui spent all day at their residence once again. The kids had a mini swimming party with the neighbor’s son, Yuuji. 
You can’t deny that your little girl’s been a bit more energetic nowadays. She’s also learning things, like pouring beverages into a cup; something from the internet that Toji has been teaching Megumi to do. “What do you wanna say?” Toji answered before the little kid’s voice followed. “Yui later. Come later. Uh, bye.” The little message made you giggle.
“She’s asleep now, ‘gumi~ We’ll visit again soon.” You heard Toji playfully scold him to go to bed already before getting back to the call, “I’ll tuck him in now. I’ll see you tomorrow, babe.” Humming, you said your good nights before ending the call. You watched Yui sleep, caressing her soft, blushing cheeks. 
Everything’s been going good, and you could only hope that it’ll also be good for her.
Placing a gentle kiss on her forehead, three knocks at the door almost gave you a heart attack. It’s already late, who could it be? The place is a three-unit, up-and-down apartment, maybe someone got the wrong door. Wrapping yourself in a robe, you walked to the door. There was a muffled sound behind, and you can’t miss your name being mumbled.
You know the voice too well to wait any longer for confirmation.
“Satoru?” You spoke, brows knitting together. His hair and shirt were soaked in sweat. “Hey…” He laughed, standing straight as he stared at you with bloodshot eyes. Has he been crying? “What’s going on, Satoru?” You opened the door, letting him make his way inside as you gave him a concerned look.
“I mean it, Y/N.” What is he talking about? You wondered as he looked at you, sobbing all while trying to catch his breath. If somebody else saw him, they’d probably think something really awful happened. Not once have you seen him this broken before; not even when you fought so bad he had to leave the house.
“Satoru, I don’t understand you. You’re dru–“ You were cut off when he wrapped his arms around you, crying on your shoulders as he grabbed the sides of your robe, like a child not wanting to be left alone. “Y/N, please. I know what I’m saying, love.” He was gasping for air as he spoke, pulling away 
“I know I’m drunk but not drunk enough to make wrong decisions.” His laugh lacked enthusiasm. Pulling away, you could see the smile on his face contradicts the big tears cascading down his cheeks. “Did you drive here?” You pulled away from his grasp, thinking about the next thing to do. 
“No, I walked here. Let’s talk, please. Just a few–“ His face was close to yours, begging. His voice broke, and it broke you too and you know you can’t keep listening if he’s like this. “Satoru.” You turned, taking a step away from him. You could hear the shaky breath he took by how quiet it was. 
“Yui’s already asleep.” You informed him, a subtle reminder that you wouldn’t want her waking up to a commotion again. Satoru nodded, lips quivering. “I can call Naomi to pick you up–“ You trailed but it was now his turn to cut you off. “No. I don’t…want that.” He knows it doesn’t sound right, and it gave you the impression that they fought.
“Fine, just your mom, then.” You turned to get your phone but his hand caught your wrist, a secure yet gentle grip. “No. Please.” He sounded like a kid. What has he done that not even the both of them can know that he’s here? “Can I stay here? Just for the night. I’ll sleep on the couch, Y/N. W-we’ll talk later… right?” He was on the verge of crying and you can’t stand there to watch any longer. 
You don’t think it was a good idea, but this is the father of your child. Whatever happens to him will affect your daughter too. 
“Just…wash up. Change. Check on Yui, if you want. I got a folding bed if you want to sleep there.” You turned around before walking back to your room, not waiting for the man to answer. You were planning to have some tea before going to sleep but now you just want to call Toji.
In two rings, you heard his voice from the other line. “Sorry, were you sleeping already?” You paced around your room, pursing your lips. “No, I was just checking on some files. Are you alright?” Concern was prominent in his voice. You wanted to tell him about this because he has a habit of coming over in the mornings. You surely don’t want him getting the wrong idea.
“Listen, Satoru’s here. I feel like he fought with Naomi, I don’t really know. He’s in Yui’s room.” There was a long silence and you got a feeling he was thinking carefully about how to react. “Is he trying to…” Toji cleared his throat before sighing, “Do you need me to go there?” He asked, and you could tell he was not very comfortable with your situation.
It’s only been a couple of months but Toji’s proven nothing but sincerity to you and it was all unconditional. You’re aware of the tension between him and Satoru; the latter being more impolite than the former. But even so, Toji never tried to take away the father role from Satoru. This only heightened your respect for him.
“It’s fine, I just wanted to tell you. I don’t want you thinking anything if you saw him here tomorrow.” You plopped on the bed, massaging your temple as you closed your eyes. “So, you know I’ll be going there tomorrow?” There was a chuckle behind his words. You felt a blush creeping up your cheeks.
“Go to sleep.” You rubbed your eyes, with a small smile on your lips. Once again, good nights were exchanged between the two of you. You’re just glad that Toji isn’t as shallow as other men. You were worried that your decision to let your ex stay for a night would upset him. Putting your thoughts to rest, you lay down on the bed, feeling the soft mattress against your skin. 
Not even half an hour has passed and another set of knocks startled you. The fact that you have no idea what happened with Satoru made you worry. Could it be Naomi? Was your name involved in their fight? You doubt that she’d come here at this hour, though. You don’t see her as that type of woman at all. 
You don’t even know if they really fought. Thoughts raced through your head as you hurried to the door. You wondered if Satoru was woken up by the knocks. He’s drunk and he sleeps like a log when he's drunk. But it would be different if your daughter starts crying. You don’t really want to talk with him about whatever it is. 
It scares you when you think about how ‘the talk’ with him ended the last time. The day he shredded the last remaining hope you had of him, you and your daughter being a family.
Seeing headlights shining down your window pane, you wondered if Toji really drove here to accompany you. But he can’t be that fast, you thought as you opened the door.
Dressed in her expensive coat and a designer scarf, was Satoru’s mother, and you could already tell that she was not in her best mood. If Naomi and Satoru fought, you’re sure that your name’s mentioned.
Without thinking, you moved out of the doorway to let her in, “Good evening, Ma’am—” Slap. The next thing you know, you were already grabbing your cheeks. The skin was throbbing from the force of the contact and you were sure that this is about to leave marks later on. 
“Won’t you quit being a slut?” You thought that the stinging sensation on your face was already painful, but those words proved you wrong. You felt degraded, humiliated even when no one was around; you felt like your whole being was trampled on. You don’t even know what you did. Does she hate you that much?
She used to claim that you ruined her son’s life. That you were just trying to leech off him so you wouldn’t need to work or use your brain. Those words broke your heart, not for yourself but for your mother who tried so hard to give you all that she can. When Satoru confronted her about it, she cried to him, blabbering about why she was right.
It wasn’t easy to speak about those things, you don’t want to make it seem like you were tearing him away from his mother, all while you were tearing him apart due to your situation back then. But you made sure that he knows the reason why you don’t want her around your daughter so much. 
You wouldn’t be surprised if she’s the one who coaxed Yui to call Naomi Mama. After all, she’s also the same mother who shoved someone else into her son instead of helping to make sure that his granddaughter would grow up with a whole family. Do you disgust her that much? It shouldn’t be painful anymore at this point. She already won in kicking you out of her son’s life.
“I-I don’t know what’s going on, Ma’am. My daughter’s sleeping can we talk outside—?” Her scoff halted you. You found yourself wishing that you let Toji come over or for Satoru to wake up. “Now, you don’t want your daughter hearing about her mother’s mess?” She hissed at your face, laughing as you pushed yourself to walk out and close the door behind you.
“Satoru’s here Ma’am but I don’t—” Another slap landed on your face and this time it took everything in you not to throw the punch you were saving in your fist. “How fucking desperate can you be?” With her eyes blown wide in surprise, she pushed passed you, mouth foaming with her nasty words. 
“Satoru!” She called out, walking like she owns the place. “You really took advantage of his feelings for you. You’re always so ready to ruin his and Naomi’s relationship so he’d go back to you.” She turned, pointing a finger at you. Your eyes widened at her words. Satoru’s feelings for me? You were confused.
“Just so you know, my son’s never been healthier ever since he left you. He doesn’t need a toxic relationship with a woman he didn’t even choose to be with.” The words were sharp and the way to your daughter’s room felt like you were being shot with each step. You already know that. 
Why does she have to keep rubbing it to your face that you weren’t someone he voluntarily chose to love?
“Please don’t bring the child to this. I know you—” You felt like you never had the chance to speak a full sentence. “Of course, I am not. I won’t let her grow up with you. For what? So she could turn out to be like you, too? Satoru!” The words filled you with dread. You feared that they could easily take her away from you by any means they can. You got nothing to give. 
Before she could even open the door to your daughter’s room, Satoru already came out. The emotions on his face were indiscernible as she stared at his mother. “Don’t take Yui, please. I won’t talk to Satoru if you want, just don’t take my child away.” You cried, ready to get down on your knees but Satoru was immediately on your side.
“What is this? What is going on? Mom!” Satoru held your figure, shaking violently and your skin, cold. You tried to get out of Satoru’s grasp, wanting nothing but to get close to your child who’s already starting to cry. You hated yourself for putting her in situations like this.
“Let me get Yui, Satoru, please. You can’t take her away.” Satoru was now the one baffled. His head felt like someone was hitting his skull with a hammer from the inside. Now, he wakes up to his mom causing commotion in a house where his daughter is in.
“No one’s taking Yui away, Y/N.” One of his arms wrapped around your waist, and the other, shielding you from his Mom. Satoru used to believe that his mother only wanted the best for him. He didn’t realize that what his mom wants for him is not the best for his daughter. “Mom, what are you doing?!” He reiterated through clenched jaws as you slipped away to get to Yui.
“You ask me what am I doing? You! Satoru, what are you doing, letting this whore ruin you and Naomi?” Satoru’s eyes widened, "Mom!" he looked at you and his wailing daughter, holding her against your chest. Terror was clear in her tear-stained face as she peeked over your shoulders, while you try to keep her eyes away from the chaos, “Bad Meemaw, Bad!” She sobbed, pointing her finger.
Satoru was about to close the door when his mother tried to beat him to it. “Is this how you want to raise your daughter, Satoru? In this environment?!” She was fierce with her words and Satoru’s just slowly putting the pieces together as she spoke. “She’s messing with your head, Satoru. Look at her, getting it on with another rich guy to milk, trying to make you come back to her.”
“You're the one creating this environment. Why did you even come here?” He questioned, stepping in front of her to prevent her from getting to you. “Where else would you be? You just called me saying you still love this bitch—” You don’t understand how a person could hate you so much when you’ve done nothing but try to respect them. “Don’t speak of her like that, Mom! You’re not of any help.” There was a hint of exasperation in his voice.
Satoru’s mother was the second wife to his father. Your mother used to say that 'the woman's just bitter because she knows that she’ll never really have his father’s heart even if she’s the one with him.' The first wife of his father went away, not wanting her only child to be in such tough and disconcerting conditions and just letting Satoru’s father be with his Mom. 
Thinking about it now, you realized that your situation is kind of similar.
“Ma, no cry. Ma.” You heard your daughter reach for your face, making you ache even more. History really does repeat itself, you thought. “Mama’s fine.” You felt sorry for your child; for allowing her to witness something this chaotic. You wished that you’re a bit more well off, maybe her mother wouldn’t be so small and fragile against people like her grandmother. 
“I didn’t call Y/N...” Satoru whispered, turning to look at your back as you tried to protect your daughter from the scene. “Just because he’s wasted and he’s telling you that he loves you, doesn’t mean you get to slither up at him like a snake!” Words were thrown at you and only now have you realized the situation. 
Satoru tried to call your number to tell you that he loves you.
Your eyes snapped up at him, catching him looking already looking at you. He did plan to let you know about how he feels. But he didn’t want you to find out like this. He already messed up by letting himself break down and call the wrong person. Hell, he shouldn’t have even said it in a call.
It just hurts so bad. It’s like the words would pierce their way out of his heart and lungs if he didn’t get them out.
He can’t even expect anything, and he doesn’t even know how you’d take it. He could lose you completely after all this and that’s the last thing he wants. Now that you have Toji, he’s got no choice but to stand aside and watch. Like how he made you feel with Naomi. The thought made Satoru swallow as he took in your crying face; his chest throbbing with pain.
“Mom, can you please just leave?” He spoke in a low voice, breathing hard to stop himself from exploding. “You said too much already. Just go, this is my problem to fix.” His mother’s face tells Satoru she’s not letting up so easily and it took everything in him not to scream back at her. 
“Of course, I have so much to say. I am helping you because she has done so much to you–“ Before she could even her sentence, Satoru was already raising his voice at her, making you cover your daughter’s ear. “Mom, all you did was make things worse!” It was a bad sight, you’ve never seen him get angry at his mother. 
Knowing her situation with his Dad, Satoru always chose to be understanding to her. He once told you that he always wants his mother to feel loved and cared for because his father would never give her enough of that. “How could you? All because of–“ She trailed.
“You’re trespassing, Mom.” He said firmly, forcing himself to calm down. She knows what Satoru meant by that. You could file a case against her if she continues to cause trouble. “Listen, I don’t know what this woman fed you, but you better get your head straight.” She pointed a finger at Satoru’s face.
“I created this problem. Let me fix it by myself.” You could tell that fighting with his Mom is the last thing Satoru wants to do. There was a tired look on his face as he shook his head, “I wouldn’t want to create a space between us Mom. But I can’t let you involve yourself in every decision I make.” His mother can sense the light threat in Satoru’s words.
“Then, make the right decisions, Satoru. Stop ruining your life for someone with no future.” Before any of you could even talk, his mother was already stomping her way out of the room, slamming the door like it’s hers, causing Yui to start crying again. You sat there, thinking about everything you just heard.
“Shh, it’s okay, love. It’s alright.” Satoru took Yui from your arms, eyes full of worry. Rocking the weeping child in his arms, he hung his head low as you stared at him. You wiped the tears that were about to fall as you stood up, heading to the living room and letting him put Yui back to sleep.
You let yourself cry, you let yourself think. Just when you thought you were getting better, just when you started to accept everything that has happened. Yui’s cries slowly stopped after almost half an hour. You wanted to go there and put her to sleep by yourself but you don’t want her to see you cry anymore. It’s not good.
“What were you trying to do, Satoru?” were the first words that came out of your mouth. He stood there, motionless as he watched you turn away to wipe your eyes. “I…I love you. I didn’t mean it when I said I regret you or Yui. I love you.” His answer was a whisper but it was firm. Your eyebrows furrowed, tears once again threatening to fall. “Why?” You sobbed, “Why now?” 
Satoru doesn’t know what to answer. He doesn’t even know if there’s a right answer but all he knows is he can’t expect anything from you. “I…I still do. I don’t think I ever stopped, I—“ He was cut off by your sharp intake of breath as you clutched the fabric of your robe to your chest. He let himself see how much he destroyed you again, how he heartlessly tore you apart once more.
“Why are you trying to ruin me again? Why are you trying to take away what I just got?” Your shoulders shake as you lean your forehead on your clasped hands. He wanted to hold you but he feared that you'd run away. Like how you’re getting harder to reach right now, with every passing second.
“You have no idea how much I wanted you to say that before all this, Satoru. You have no idea how many nights I had to cry myself, putting myself back together while you were trying to make someone else whole!” You turned to him, cheeks and eyes swollen from crying. “You have no idea how many times I blamed myself for not being the better one for you…” You whimpered.
It felt as though your words were a blow to his body, determined to crush his diaphragm to gouge his heart out as payment for yours that he stomped on so many times. Your hands were visibly shaking as you wiped your eyes with the back of it before speaking again, “You can’t say you love me now just because you want to, Satoru.”
“I know I can’t change anything…” Everything that comes out of Satoru’s mouth makes him feel stupid. If he was you, he wouldn’t even listen to him. While you both had your shortcomings in your relationship, Satoru knows that you wouldn’t have pulled yourself away if he didn’t give you a reason to. 
“...but I can make it better, Y/N. I can prove it to you. Just let me—” He was getting desperate to put his feelings into words but you don’t want to hear it. He should’ve known. “Naomi is a good woman. She’s…a perfect fit for you.” You laughed bitterly, “Don’t hurt her. You know why I didn’t fight even when I wanted to get you back?” Each snivel that you make was a nail to his heart. 
“Because you looked happy together.” The pain in your voice was thick before you gasped for air. “And I didn’t want to be unfair to you and to Naomi.” There was a sad smile on your face, probably reminiscing the day you found out he moved on from you. “So…please. Let’s not be unfair to Toji, too.” You looked up at him, smiling through your tears. 
You looked tired; so, so tired of it all.  
“But I love you…” He breathed out as you stood up, ready to retire to bed. “...I just wanted you to know that.” He grabbed your hand, urgently kissing it as he sobbed. You watched his face contort with sadness, closing his eyes and letting his tear slide over the bridge of his nose as he tilted his head to your palm. 
You looked away, suppressing your cries; feeling it harder to breathe through the pain the more you feel his touch. You pulled your hands away slowly before quickly walking to your room. 
Before you locked the door, you could hear his wails of anguish and the sound of two hearts shattering once more.
—------------------------------------------------
You woke up to the feeling of the bed dipping on your side. What time is it? When did you fall asleep? Yui. Remembering your daughter made your eyes snap open, trying to stand up immediately.
“Hey, hey. Calm down, it’s me, I’m here.” It was Toji, when did he come here? The brightness of the color of your curtains indicates the light of the sun shining down behind it. “I forgot that I fell asleep.” You sighed. In fact, you don’t even remember getting on your bed. The last thing you were doing was crying on the floor beside the bedside table. Did Satoru put you in your bed?
“Satoru left after feeding Yui her breakfast. She’s playing on my phone.” He got closer to kiss your forehead. “It’s too early for phones.” You yawned, covering your face with a blanket before sitting down. “Megumi’s with her, I’m taking their phones away after we eat.“ You nodded, pursing your lips as you remembered all the events from last night.
“Let me brush my teeth, I…got something to tell you.” You can see Toji licking his lips before humming, “Alright, we'll talk about it. I cooked something.” Letting him kiss your cheek as you stood on your knees and wrap your arms around his neck. His hands automatically snaked around your waist, murmuring “Let’s talk while eating.” 
You told Toji about what happened the other night. Not as detailed as you remember it but you made sure that he knows everything he needs to know. No matter how awkward it was to discuss for you. There was a blank look on his face throughout the story and you can’t help but feel concerned.
“So that’s why he told me to take good care of you before he left.” It was obvious that he was tense, “I should’ve come last night.” Sighing, you shook your head, “It’s alright, I handled it. Please, try not to worry. You’re my boyfriend now.” You moved to sit beside him, pecking his lips. 
You didn’t know how else to reassure him, you don’t like seeing the defeated look in his eyes. Throughout the day, he would randomly kiss you; burying his face in your neck. He’s more clingy than usual, and although it worries you, you find it really cute.
The following weeks proceeded the same, Satoru picking up Yui and Naomi tagging along wasn’t new but it happened for consecutive weeks now. You don’t know if Satoru told her, but she showed no signs of it. Though her gazes linger between you and Satoru at times, but there’s not a hint of hostility to it. 
You don’t really know how they are with each other in private, but there’s a noticeable change in Satoru’s behavior towards her. “Get your bag from Naomi.” Satoru once commanded your daughter when you came to get her from his house. “Naomi?” She repeated, and running only after he nodded at her, confirming how she should address her.
“Did you take a cab? Toji’s not with you.” He would speak to you in a voice he never did before, it almost shocked you. He lost weight, he looks exhausted. “Yeah, he’s at work.” You answered earning a hum from him. “If you’re comfortable, I can take you home. It’d save you money, you know?” It was now your turn to hum, locking eyes with him.
When did they start looking this gently at you?
“You ready to go?” Naomi cleared her throat, suddenly appearing with Yui behind Satoru. “Yeah, I’ll be driving them home then I'll head straight to work.” He gave her a small smile, picking Yui up before taking the bag that Naomi was giving to you. “Bye, I love you.” Naomi stood on her tippy toes, kissing the side of his lips. “I'll see you later…love you." He responded.
The change on Naomi’s face cannot go unnoticed as she glanced at you. You looked down, feeling bad that she was probably anxious. And the fact that she’s clueless about it all just made it heavier than it already is. 
Satoru opened the door of the passenger side for you. Now, he would usually let you sit on the back. You had to glance back at his house to know if Naomi saw it. You don’t want her to have problems with you when in fact, you're trying to help her.
“How are you and Naomi?” You found yourself asking Satoru as he sat beside you, his eyes watched you from the rearview mirror. “I’m trying. I really am. But I can’t force myself, Y/N.” He looked away, biting his lip. Your daughter was talking to her doll behind you and you’re just grateful that she’s still too young to understand this.
“Satoru, she’s been nothing but good to you. She did a lot of things for you.” You spoke gently. You’re surprised that you could now talk about this more calmly. Because it involves you. And you wouldn’t know what to do if Naomi finds out that her boyfriend’s still in love with you, begged you to take him back and never told her. You don’t owe her anything but you’re not that type of person.
“Would it be right to stay with someone for that sole reason?” He asked, and suddenly, you don’t know the answer. “It might only hurt them more if they find out that you stayed with them just because you feel obligated to and not because you truly love them.” He explained, smiling when he heard his baby daughter call his name randomly.
“It’s Dad. Not ‘Toru” You reached over to pinch her cheek, silently thanking her for breaking the ice. “Toji Dada too? Hm?” You can see Satoru tense up before a sad look flashed in his eyes. “I don’t know, love...Ask Mama?” You can tell he was hurt by how he got quiet. The little joy left in his eyes, now completely gone.  
“You know Toji corrects her for that.” You defended as you stopped at the red light. “It’s good, though. I…” Pausing, Satoru took a deep breath. “I think he’s gonna be that, anyway.” He laughed, tapping the wheel before turning to look at you. 
“You know I just want to prove to you that I love you, right? You don’t have to love me back, I know you’re happy with him.” 
—----------------------------------------------------
Naomi’s been observing her boyfriend for the past few months. She can’t really determine what exactly changed but she knows that it wasn’t the same. The day you picked up Yui with Toji for the first time, she noticed that Satoru prepared more than he usually does. 
At first, she thought it was just him getting more responsible. But when she saw that you came with your new boyfriend, she got a feeling that Satoru wanted to impress. She figured that it was because he wants his baby momma’s boyfriend to think highly of him and left it at that. 
He’s been having mood swings but he’s also been getting more projects to work at so, it’s understandable. She also noticed how almost every movement of his daughter was documented and sent to you when she's with them. It was new because he rarely does it before. But she thought that it was only because your co-parenting plan was going better.
Everything that she notices about Satoru has valid reasons so, why is she feeling unsettled whenever the two of you would meet? It’s an unreasonable feeling because you’re already dating someone. There shouldn’t even be a single concern in her body.
Just a few weeks ago, his mother called her in the middle of the night, asking if Satoru was with him. When she said that she’ll call him to ask where he is, her mother quickly interrupted her, saying that he already replied that he was working overtime for a VIP client. She also said something about not interrupting him because the client’s a big person.
She still texted Satoru that night asking why he didn’t tell her about it. Satoru replied hours later, saying that it was an emergency project that needs to be discussed as soon as possible. After that, he sent another message with ‘I’m sorry.’ 
She came over the following night, intending to give him a soothing break. She prepared thoroughly during the day, wanting to please her boyfriend. Fatigue was obvious in his eyes when she arrived. Like he didn’t get an ounce of sleep.
“I’ll take that tiredness away, just relax in there.” She giggled, sensuously running down her fingers on his skin as she makes sure every physical contact they made was as soft as possible. She went down on him, watching him close his eyes as he grabbed her hair eliciting moans from her.
“Let’s do it without one,” She smiled, excited as she positioned herself on top of him, allowing him to feel her warmth as she pressed her chest against his. It was slow, passionate. He was so gentle with his touches and Naomi wanted to convince him to do it inside her so badly.
She was sure that all those perturbing thoughts of her would also be put to rest if that happens, she thought as she smiles, grinding onto him. But before she could get to that, he halted her, “Wait,” he spoke, reaching for the packet in his bedside cabinet. 
Before she could even speak she was flipped over and it’s now Satoru on top. “I can take Plan B, just do it inside.” She bit her nail, giving him the eyes which only earned a smile, “Can never be too safe.” Not long after that, they both finished. Back then, he would agree to do it inside as long as she takes an emergency contraceptive after.
How come he wanted to be ‘too safe’ this time?
Her worries were put to rest for a little when he held her close when they came to get Yui. It also helped that you're still with your boyfriend. It only lasted for a bit until you had to pick Yui up on your own. Satoru found out that you were taking Yui out for an ice cream and the little girl asked him to come. 
Naomi wanted to join; she was ready to dress up. But Satoru suggested that it should just be the middle day in your schedule, where the three of you would spend time together. It took everything in her not to frown in front of you. She felt rejected, she felt left out. The last straw was the talk she had with Satoru three days ago. 
“What do you think about civil weddings?” She spoke to him, sitting on his lap as he watches T.V. “Huh?” He turned his attention to her, “Civil weddings. Maybe we could have it before the grand wedding, don’t you think?” She wiggles her brows at him, laughing as she daydreamed. Placing his hands on her waist, she kissed his lips softly.
“Or maybe we could put a bun in the oven first so, she’d be with us in wedding photos.” She whispered, half-joking. “Why are you dreaming? It’s still early.” Satoru laughed, taking his hand off of her to get the remote, switching between channels.
“I’m serious, though.” She pouted, hugging his neck. “Yeah, I know. But…It’s not in my plans, yet.” Her heart dropped at his words. She knows that he doesn’t mean it that way but it hurt her that after all the family talk and jokes he made with her, she’ll find out that it’s not even in his plans yet. Naomi wanted to cry, but instead, she got upset. She didn't let him know but she chose not to stay over at Satoru’s that night, claiming that she has paperwork. Before, he would persuade her to stay even if she has to do something.
How come he just kissed her goodbye this time?
It was tough on Naomi. Whenever she would ask Satoru about it, he said that he just got really busy with work. Even when he tells her that he loves her, she can say that he’s not even fully into it. And he doesn’t want to talk to you because she doesn’t want you to think that she’s accusing you when you got a whole new boyfriend.
Picking up her phone, Naomi decided that she just can't take the mystery anymore. “Hey, Mom. Are you free for lunch? I’d like to catch up.”
She just needs some advice. And she thinks that no one knows sons better than their mothers.
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mooshywrites · 2 months
Text
Bedtime Stories
Fem!Reader x Halsin
Masterlist
Art commissions
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A/N - Halsin has ran himself ragged with bedtime stories, his charges demanding to hear a tale or two every night. He comes to you for help, hoping you have a few stories to spare. Unfortunately, this simple ask is going to leave the two of you with very little sleep tonight
Word count - 3.3K
Warnings - NSFW, MDNI, fingering, dirty talk, size difference, vaginal penetration, cream pie, established relationship, smut with plot, minor spoilers, mentions of past violence
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“Not even the first drop of rain in a drought of one thousand years could compare to the sight of you bared for me like this.”
─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───
“And that’s when I knew I was a goner.” Halsin said, his voice low and serious. You stifled a giggle, worried it would pierce right through the tense air. There wasn’t a single breath taken in the expansive silence.
”What happened next?” A tiny voice whispered from the semi circle before Halsin. It came from a tiny tiefling girl, one that was hanging on every single word of the Druid’s story.
It was adorable watching them, watching your love tell tales to the children you were charged with taking care of. He was rather animated in his stories, hushed voices and sweeping gestures, speaking of beasts and demons and giant brains touched down to earth to take over the land.
The kids ate the stories up. Listened to him as if it were the last story they would ever hear. Each one of them could throw quite the impressive fit in the evening, demanding that Halsin talk them to sleep. He always gave in, sometimes having to make something up on the spot. You would think that with as long as he’s been alive, he would have plenty of stories to tell, but you knew all too well that most of those stories couldn’t be told to little ears.
You loved the evenings, though. Loved watching the gentle giant try his best to calm the terrifying horde of children. You couldn’t help but feel a pang of sadness as you looked over the kids. Most of them had the same story. Lost and forgotten children, victims of the horror that occurred a few months earlier.
Only a few of them had actually told you what happened to them, but it was more or less consistent. Their parents had been killed, turned, or were simply missing in the fight against The Absolute. You didn’t know during the journey itself how many villages had been affected by the cult, but each one of these cubs were a testament to how deep the violence ran.
You could still remember the look on Halsin’s face when you came across a tiefling orphan in the streets of lower Baldur’s Gate. There they were, standing over their parents' bodies. The two older tiefling had been unfortunate murders dedicated to the god of murder himself, Bhaal. The Druid’s face hardened, his words harsh as he wondered how many children had been affected in a similar way
That little tiefling was one of the first that Halsin scooped up to rescue.
Since then, you acquired quite the group of wayward souls. What was it that Halsin said? Right, nine wagons full of the little angels. At first you had been completely overwhelmed at the thought of so many little mouths to feed, little minds to grow, little hearts to mend. But Halsin took it all on the chin, always seeming to know exactly what to say or do.
Yet, the panicked look he’s giving you right now? Maybe your bear wasn’t equipped to handle all of what the children required.
“Then…” You started, beginning to move around the semi circle of kids, your voice sinister and low.
The kids' attention turned to you, eyes wide and expecting. You could’ve laughed at how intensely they were staring, but you knew you had quite the show to put on if you didn’t want to be mauled by a pack of rabid cubs.
”Then Halsin stalked around the cave, trying his best to appease the Mother Owlbear. He knew with one wrong step…” You paused for a dramatic moment, making eye contact with as many of them as you could, “And he would be swallowed up in one gulp.”
You heard Halsin scoff and ignored it, seeing the reaction ripple through your tiny audience.
”How would the owl bear even eat Daddy Halsin!” A particularly brave kid questioned.
A valid question. My spur of the moment storytelling probably wouldn’t withstand professional attention to plot holes
”Well, because,” You pondered, standing up straight again. “The owl bear was the biggest one we’ve ever seen. Just one of its claws was bigger than any one of you little cubs.”
One of the kids, a pale ginger half elf, stifled a shriek. She clung to her brother who was putting on a very good show of bravery, though he was a shade paler than usual.
Note to self - Less scary, more story
”If you want to know how Daddy Halsin escaped, you all have to be good and get some sleep.” You ended, putting on a warm smile.
Groans echoed around you, the kids obviously not happy with the cliffhanger in their bedtime story.
“Aht, ah, ah, lovelies. Bad kids who don’t listen to Miss Daddy Halsin get eaten by giant owl bears.”
That seemed to do the trick, the children scrambling over themselves to crawl into their bedrolls. Halsin had let them choose where to put their beds, most choosing to sleep in the equivalent of a pile in the corner of the grove. A few slept a few feet away, but the proximity to your quarters seemed to keep all of their mind’s at ease.
You smiled as Halsin came bumbling toward you, a tired smile gracing his features, “You’re always better at getting them to bed than I am, my heart.” He muttered, pressing a chaste kiss to your cheek. You leaned into the touch, his large hand warming the small of your back.
”What can I say, terrorizing kids is my specialty.” You teased, looking over the bundles of furs. You hadn’t realized how heavy your shoulders felt until now, how hard it was to keep your eyes open.
Ever perceptive, Halsin knew how exhausted you were as soon as you did. He chuckled softly and let you go, “Go on to bed, sweet. I will kiss foreheads.”
Any other day, you might’ve argued. Kissing everyone goodnight was one of your favorite parts of the night. But you were tired, and, well… there were a lot of foreheads.
You padded towards the large stone door, making your way to the room you and Halsin shared. When the children first arrived, it made you nervous to think of them out in the open, separated by a thick slab of rock. Practically no sound got past the opening, after all. Halsin kissed away your worries, assuring you there were a plethora of animals who would keep careful watch over them. Half of which were even nocturnal.
Without any worries, and a slight feeling of fatigue in your bones the sight of your bed was a beautiful, beautiful scene. You sat on the edge of the bed, idly running your hands across the deep set carvings etched into the wood. It had taken weeks to convince Halsin to make you a bed frame, even longer to convince him to actually sleep on the bed and not the ground. After enough pleading and many a kiss, he finally completed the process, even detailing the wood with his whittling tools.
It didn’t seem long before Halsin appeared in the wide doorway, expression light. “Those little ones will surely be the death of me.”
”I’ve heard it said that being around children makes you feel young again.” You mused, tucking your legs under the thin blankets.
“Whoever says that is a fraud. They only make me feel much, much older.” He laughed, coming over to sit at your feet. “They love your stories, my heart. Perhaps you should be in charge of that for now.”
”No, I simply couldn’t.” You said decisively, shaking your head for good measure.
“And why not?” Halsin asked incredulously, hands coming up to rub your feet. You knew that his movements were a thinly veiled attempt at bribery, but you wouldn’t be weak enough to fall for it this time.
”They like your stories more.” You shrugged, letting your eyes flutter shut as you enjoyed the massage. “I like your stories more as well.”
”It’s difficult to tell stories with you around.” He said quietly, eyes trained on you. You met his gaze, seeing a sly smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
That smile never meant anything good.
“What do you mean?” You asked simply, feigning ignorance. You could try to ignore the way his hands moved higher up to your calf, but you knew that focus would be short lived. No, if the Druid wanted your attention, he would have to earn it.
“I mean… How am I supposed to be present enough to tell a story when nature’s most beautiful creation herself is standing mere feet away from me?” His voice was a half a note lower than usual, barely perceptible if it were anyone but the man you loved.
”You flatter me.” You whisper, not trusting your voice to hide the way heat began crawling its way through your stomach.
Halsin leaned in, pressing a kiss against your jaw. His words tickled your skin, warm breath brushing over your ear as he spoke, “Oak Father, preserve me, how am I supposed to focus on anything when your sweet scent washes over me at even your nearness?”
Your breath caught in your throat, your mind already becoming fogged with clouds of desire. “Maybe you are just less skilled at focusing than I am.” You responded.
He pulled back for a moment, still smiling grinning. “You think you can get through a story while being distracted?” He prodded
Your eyebrows furrowed slightly. You knew the feeling that crawled through the back of your mind. It was the same one you had when you knew you were about to walk face first into a trap. One you just couldn’t place, exactly.
“I suppose so.” You countered, arms coming up to cross in front of you. “What story would you like to hear?”
”Hmm.” He thought aloud, pausing for a moment. You found your gaze fawning over him during the brief break, appreciating the way his shoulders flexed, his hands never pausing the foot rub. “Tell me the story of how we first met.”
”That’s it? What’s the catch?” You inquired suspiciously
“Catch? Why would there be a catch, my heart?” His expression screamed ‘innocent’ but your intuition screamed ‘SCHEMER’
“Fine. I’ll tell you how we met without getting distracted.” You started, leaning back against the wall. “I had heard you had gotten captured at the goblin camp. A very intelligent move by th-“
You faltered slightly as Halsin leaned back forward, lips brushing over your collarbone. You could practically feel him smirk against you, words muffled slightly, “Why did you stop? Distracted already?”
You felt a surge of defiance, a deep sense of determination against his taunting. It didn't matter how flushed your cheeks felt at the current moment, you would be getting through this story.
You would be the one to win.
Your voice continued on, a bit shakier than before, “So I decided I needed to break you out.”
Halsin’s lips continue to mold against your skin, peppering slow, teasing kisses along your shoulder. “I asked around quite a bit about you, but no one seemed to know exactly where you were.”
You caught another gasp as Halsin’s hands wrapped around the small of your back, toying with the ties of your bodice.
No. Focus.
”When I realized I would either need to break or sneak into the goblin camp, I also realized I was much too weak for either.”
“Mnm” Halsin responded, signaling you on.
Only, it was difficult to continue on. You felt the ribbon of your dress completely loosened, the delicious warmth of the Druid’s hands against your bare back. You swallowed thickly, trying your best to ignore the feeling.
“I needed to get stronger, so I could save the helpless first Druid,” You muttered, annoyance obviously present as you tried your best to keep your thoughts straight.
”Oh, my heart.” Halsin murmured, deftly pushing the fabric off of your shoulders and down to your waist. You shivered slightly, feeling your nipples pebble through the material of your underclothes. Halsin’s attention went straight towards the raised mounds, a strange sort of irreverent glint in his eyes. He looked back up at you, smiling softly. “You don’t know the meaning of helpless.”
With that, his mouth dipped down, catching a clothed breast in a gentle nip. You had to grate your teeth tightly to avoid the moan caught in your throat, thoughts holding on to your “story” by the thinnest of threads.
”Given up?” Halsin whispered again, a rough palm coming up to cup the other breast, kneading so lightly you might’ve been imagining it.
“No!” You snapped, eyebrows coming together as you mustered all the focus you could manage. ”When I finally found you, I never thought you’d be a-“
You couldn’t help the whimper that took over your sentence as Halsin dragged a thick finger over your clothed core. Your mind short circuited, wetness gathering almost immediately at a simple touch.
You knew, deep down, that Halsin had won. That it was hopeless to think you could’ve ignored his… distractions… in the first place. How were you supposed to ignore the way his mouth skillfully worked in tandem with his hand, the way his free hand had snuck up to render you speechless?
The only response the elf gave you was a low chuckle, his gentle touch beginning to rub circles around your heat devilishly slow. The sly cur, he wouldn’t even take the satisfaction of bragging of his win.
No, instead, he would just continue to see you undone by his hand.
”You're a cheater.” You whimpered quietly, finally giving up the game.
”And you, my heart,” He murmured, shifting in the bed slightly, “Are a sore loser.”
“Just… just touch me.” You responded, refusing to give him any more defiance than he already had broken in you.
Your druid was ever so gentle as he removed the rest of your clothes, leaving gentle kisses along your skin as the fabric slid off. Every touch, every movement left a deep need coursing through your veins. You might’ve been embarrassed by the depth of your desire if your mind had any room for such thoughts.
But no. The only thing your thoughts would entertain right now was him.
”By Silavanis’s grace.” Halsin whispered, leaning back, hungry gaze taking you in. “Not even the first drop of rain in a drought of one thousand years could compare to the sight of you bared for me like this.”
Your cheeks reddened further, arms coming up to shield your intimate parts from his attentive eyes. You were never the best at taking compliments, Especially ones as beautifully and lovingly crafted as the words Halsin used.
”Do not hide yourself from me, my heart. Do not deprive me of your beauty.” His hands gently pried yours away, his smile gentle.
”I’m just feeling a little overdressed.” You said, gesturing to the fully clothed Druid in front of you.
“I suppose you’re right, my sweet.” He grinned, hands working quickly to rid himself of his clothes.
You took the opportunity to marvel at the man’s physique. The way his tan skin shone in the candle light, scars shining. His muscles pulled and relaxed as he moved, the entirety of him an artfully designed creation.
It didn’t take long for his lips to come back down to yours, catching you in a passionate kiss. It was slow and purposeful, his arms wrapping around you to pull you flush against him. His grasp was strong, his skin deliciously warm against you. Calloused hands found their way to exactly where Halsin knew you needed them, one on the soft mound of your chest, the other under the curve of your ass.
Your lips worked just as eagerly against him, small moans escaping occasionally. Your hands clung onto his arms, hips already beginning to push up desperately.
”Patience, my heart.” Halsin’s voice was low, rasped, clearly holding on to the last bit of rationale he had left.
You couldn’t seem to help yourself, pushing your hips harder, wetness dragging along his hard member.
”Oak father, preserve me.” He growled, gripping your hip harshly. If it were anyone but Halsin, his tone may have made you nervous. But with him… it only made you crave him more.
”Please, Halsin. Please, I need you.” You begged, not caring how you’d been rendered undone so easily.
You weren’t left wanting for long, Halsin shifting slightly to press the soft tip of his cock against your entrance. You clenched around nothing, whimpering with need.
Halsin winced, showing much more control than you could manage. “You must relax, my heart. Breathe deeply.”
You took a deep breath and held it, preparing yourself for the inevitable stretch of Halsin’s rather endowed length. It had taken twice as long to get this far your first time laying together, you thought he would split open completely. But now, your impatience was wearing thin.
As if he could read your inner dilemma, Halsin finally gave you what you wanted. The tension melted from your body, your breath rushing out as an airy moan when you felt him push into you. “God’s above!” You whined, trying to acclimate to the stretch.
Halsin’s brow was furrowed, mouth in a thin line as he looked down at where the two of your body’s met, “You look so perfect with my cock inside of you, my heart. So perfect.”
You would’ve returned the compliment, thought of something else to say, that is if Halsin hadn’t chosen that moment to thrust all the way into your awaiting cunt. You cried out in pleasure, Halsin giving you no more time to adjust as he set forth a harsh pace. Every other breath was a moan, the sound of Halsin’s labored breaths shock waves to your core.
His hand came up to cover your mouth, trying his best to muffle your lewd sounds as his head dipped against yours.
”My heart…” He murmured. “Mine.”
His tone was graveled, possessive, and you could tell instinct was taking over already. Your own heat clenched in response, earning another harsh growl from your gentle giant.
“Halsin, I’m-“ You stuttered, your mind not able to take in both the pleasure and sweet burn from his cock sliding in and out of your dripping cunt.
“I know, my heart.” He choked out, his thrusts becoming quicker. He drilled into you with short deep pumps, sweat beading across his forehead. “Silvanus himself couldn’t create a more beautiful sight.” He whispered lowly, his hips starting to thrust more erratically. “Not more beautiful than you filled with my seed.”
With that, your cord snapped.
Your heat clenched tightly, incoherent moans muffled against Halsin’s hand. Your vision was blurry, pure ecstasy running like molten lava through your veins. You felt Halsin’s own release erupt into you with a growl, his teeth nipping at your ear as he followed through with his words.
For a moment or two, you both stayed like that, heavy breaths as you came back to the land of the living after such intense highs. When Halsin’s hand left your mouth and began to trace affectionate circles along your cheek, you finally trusted your voice enough to speak.
”I suppose I’m ready to admit defeat.” You smiled, bathing in the warmth of Halsin’s affectionate gaze.
“Surely you didn’t think I would’ve let you best me in the art of bedtime stories?” He chuckled, landing a kiss against your nose.
”We really must be careful doing things like this.” You teased, pointing to where the two of you remained connected. “We’re going to end up with yet another little one to take care of.”
You squealed into a giggle as he rolled the two of you over suddenly, nuzzling his nose against your cheek. You snuggled into his warmth, deciding that cleaning up would better be left for tomorrow. Right now you were content being tucked into Halsin’s strong, steady arms.
“Oh, I’m not sure, my sweet.” Halsin smiled, eyes meeting yours with a look full of love and affection,
“What’s one more?”
1K notes · View notes
togenabi · 5 months
Text
the promised knight
knight!roronoa zoro x princess!reader
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♡— after a lifetime apart, zoro finds his way back to you
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word count♡— 8.7k (screams into the void)
genre♡— royalty au, childhood friends to strangers to lovers, slow burn bc a lot of things happen, but there's fluff bc I need there to be
content notes♡— fem!reader wears dresses, mentions of death and grief, very plot heavy, kuina and mihawk are here, canon-typical violence, original side characters, no use of y/n, proofread(ish), inaccurate royalty things, inaccurate chemistry/poisons/acids, yes I got the name florentia from ill be the matriarch
also on♡— ao3
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author's note♡— quick explanation!: a regent has no right to the throne, they're just someone stepping in temporarily while the next monarch is absent or unable to execute their powers. happy reading!!
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Your happiest years were when everyone was together.
Those were the days you’d sneak out of your lessons to go play in the training grounds. You’d find your best friends arguing about something or other, fighting with wooden swords and chasing each other around.
Kuina and Zoro did their best to include you in whatever game they were playing. You found it all good fun, even if you were mostly being rescued or hidden away somewhere. The proud smiles on their faces when they saved you always made the wait for them worth it.
“Why do I have to play the bad guy?” A young Zoro whines, frowning deeply with shoulders slumped. His wooden sword hangs lazily in his hand, pointed to the ground. 
Opposite him, Kuina’s blade was up, stable and correct with proper posture. “Because we agreed I would save the princess today!”
You remember sending Zoro a small smile, trying to reassure him, “You can save me next time, Zoro. I promise.”
Zoro complained, but gave his all acting as a bandit out to rob you. You and Kuina would run into the meadow—hands held in each other’s—squealing and laughing. You’d always end up collapsed together; among the grass and the flowers. They would cheer and scream into the sky, happy that the great knights protected their princess once again.
But that same meadow is now covered with a blanket of melancholy. The colors aren’t as vibrant as they were back then. Flowers no longer bloom like they did. The children’s laughter has been replaced by a deafening silence.
Everything changed when Kuina died.
She was hit by a stray arrow, they said. They called it a tragic accident. 
More sadness only seemed to follow after she was gone. Zoro left without a word, abandoning his training, and you along with it. Your mother, Queen Florentia, passed due to an illness a few months after that. In a blink of an eye, you lost everything back then.
The large doors to your chambers slam shut, breaking you from your train of thought. The thud echoes into every corner before fading into noiselessness once more. 
A maid rushes in, completely out of breath and practically stumbling towards you. “Your Highness!” She gasps. Waving a hand, you gesture for her to calm down.
“Selma,” You pour her some water in a glass. It’s strange to see your personal maid so distressed. “What did you find?”
Practically inhaling the water, she places a hand over her heart before explaining, “You were right, Your Ladyship. The commander informed me that several knights had poison hidden in their quarters.”
Her eyes trail to the glass she’s holding, then to the pitcher. Selma’s face becomes appalled as it sinks in that you had poured her a drink. You cut her off before she can make a fuss about it.
“Never mind all that.” There are more pressing matters than decorum right now. “What else did Mihawk say? Have the knights been apprehended?”
“No, my Lady.” Selma retrieves a transparent vial from her pocket. “The commander said there's a chance the poisons were planted. Trustworthy men could have been framed… He discourages you from trusting any of them at all.”
The vial is small, barely larger than your thumb. To an untrained eye, it looks like nothing is there. You hold it up to the window, letting the sun’s setting rays shine through the glass.
There it is. A near-invisible, lavender sheen in liquid. The queen regent’s signature poison.
“Damn it all.” You sigh, falling into an armchair. 
It’s common knowledge that most of the people are loyal to Queen Regent Cassiopeia. Not to you, the rightful heir to the throne.
Ever since she took the position after your mother’s death, she’s been doing everything in her power to discredit you. Though she's not in the official line of succession, her goal is to become queen by any means necessary.
You’ve only been able to hold on for so long because there are still people loyal to your mother, like Commander Mihawk. However, it will take only one slip up for your standing to collapse. Cassiopeia knows this, and you suspect that she plans to completely ruin you at the upcoming knighting ceremony.
On a paneled wall in your room, encased in an ornate golden frame, hangs a portrait of Queen Florentia. The gold reminds you of the gilded dagger she gave you as a child. 
Subconsciously, your hand moves to rest over your pocket; where the dagger is hidden under your skirt. What would your mother have done in this situation?
You scan the painting as if the image would respond. It doesn’t, but your eyes settle on the necklace she’s wearing. It was her most prized possession, and she had promised to give it to you when you were older, but it’s sadly lost to time.
The vial grows heavy in your fist. Your mother would stop at nothing until Cassiopeia is defeated, so that’s what you’ll set out to do.
“Selma, get me some ink and parchment.” You order, feeling more determined. “I have a plan.”
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Dracule Mihawk burned the note as soon as he finished reading it. Your idea was brilliant, if only a little complicated to execute. 
Cassiopeia will demand you choose a personal knight during the ceremony. Assuming all the knights are loyal to the queen regent, none of them would be a safe choice.
So, you asked Mihawk to hire a skilled fighter to pose as a knight. Someone whose loyalty cannot be bought. Immediately, he knew who to recruit. Though he warned you that you might not find the man… agreeable.
“I don’t care.” You replied stubbornly. “I can’t afford to be picky. Just make sure that he won’t kill me in my sleep.”
Mihawk muses that he might be killed by you in his sleep. Because in a shady, run-down tavern, he sits beside a familiar green-haired swordsman nursing a drink at the bar.
“Fancy seeing you here, commander.” Zoro spits out the title in disgust.
“It seems that some things never change.” Mihawk hums. “You’re still in the same place as you were when we last fought.”
“And your legend ends with you kissing up to that false queen.” Disappointment practically drips from his tone.
“And here you are,” There’s an amused glint in the knight commander’s eye. “...still not able to beat me, Roronoa Zoro.”
Zoro’s jaw clenches in frustration. He breathes out deeply, “What do you want, old man?”
“Join my knights.”
Scoffing, Zoro can’t believe his ears. Is this guy serious? “I’m no knight. Not anymore.”
“Are you sure about that?” Mihawk tests. “The princess needs someone not easily dissuaded.”
At the mention of you, Zoro freezes. He squints at the commander as it dawns on him, “You don’t serve that Cassiopeia bitch.”
“Obviously.”
“But why did you become commander only after Queen Florentia died?” Zoro asks. “Everyone thought you were bought off.”
“That’s besides the point.” Mihawk hisses. “I know you’ve been wanting to make it up to the princess. I’m giving you a chance to do that on a silver platter.”
Zoro stays quiet, eyes watching the alcohol ripple in his glass. He’s not drunk enough for this discussion. And he meant what he said, that he’s not a knight. That dream died with Kuina, and he chose to pursue less honorable ways to become stronger.
It’s funny how Mihawk, who was an outlaw, traded his jacket for a suit of armor. And now, he's trying to act righteous. But some things are just—
“It’s not too late to change things.” Mihawk attempts to persuade him, calmer this time. “Something tells me you’ll regret it if you don’t.”
Shaking his head, Zoro can’t believe this man is talking like he knows him. “What do you know about regret?”
When the commander doesn’t respond, Zoro turns to see Mihawk’s face, a grave expression marks his features.
“I know far too much, I’m afraid.”
Zoro studies him for a moment longer, curious as to what he meant—but he doesn’t dare ask. Only an idiot would test Dracule Mihawk. 
This master swordsman, whom he’s looked up to for so many years, has changed drastically. Perhaps everyone has. It makes Zoro wonder how much you might’ve changed in the years he’s been gone.
You. He’s—there’s so much he wants to say. So much he wants to ask… but does he have the right to? 
Who is he kidding? He doesn’t. 
And yet, Zoro can’t help but wonder if he passes on this opportunity and regrets it, would he spend the rest of his life wishing he could make up for it?
After downing his drink, Zoro slams the glass on the bar counter.
“What do I need to do?”
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Selma assists you with your hair and makeup on the day of the ceremony. She’s practically buzzing as she flutters around you. It’s nice that she’s still enthusiastic about things like these, even when dangers lurk in the shadows.
“You look stunning, Your Ladyship!” She gushes, adjusting the different layers of your dress so that it falls on you perfectly. “A vision, you are. Just like Queen Florentia.”
“Thank you.” You respond gratefully, despite not feeling as sure and confident as your mother was. Would that change, if you were to become queen?
A knock sounds on your door. Selma rushes to answer it, and lets Mihawk into your chambers. He steps in, but remains by the entryway.
“You look lovely, princess.” The commander bows to you in greeting. “I was instructed to escort you once you’re ready.”
Nodding, you approach him and hold onto his arm. “Let us be on our way.”
Keeping your face carefully neutral, you whisper to Mihawk under your breath, “Will you really not let me know the knight’s name? How am I supposed to know who to appoint?”
“You’ll know.” Mihawk pats your hand reassuringly. “Without a doubt, you’ll know. I just hope you’re not too hard on him.”
You side-eye him. “He’s not a convict or something, is he?”
Mihawk presses his mouth shut. This bastard, is he trying not to laugh? “You might actually prefer a convict over him.” 
That pulls a frown out of you that you cannot contain. What on earth is that supposed to mean? Is the man that bad? How are you supposed to mentally prepare with such vague warnings?
All thoughts of the mystery knight fade into the back of your mind, however, when you and Mihawk make your entrance at the throne room. 
The extravagant hall is decorated to the nines. Flags of different family crests hang from the ceiling. Flowers bloom at every window sill. You smile at it all, at your people—but it fails to reach your eyes. It’s difficult to truly smile when Cassiopeia stands dangerously close to your mother’s throne.
You curtsy when you reach the steps, one hand still on Mihawk’s arm as the fabric of your skirt dips onto the floor. You hear murmurs of approval from the ministers in the front row, pleased to see the good relationship between the princess and queen regent.
But they don’t see through your gloves, how your grip on your skirt is tense and far too tight. They don’t see how Cassiopeia’s smile is truly a smirk when you lower your head to her.
“Lovely to have you here, darling.” She says, and you fight the urge to laugh. ‘Lovely’ would be if she accepted her place and let go of her greed. 
Mihawk guides you to the smaller throne on the left. This has been your seat since you were born. If Cassiopeia had her way, it would be your seat until the end of your days.
She glides to the center of the dais, the train of her excessive dress flows like a river after her. She stands; graceful, powerful and smiling—but she will never be happy until she can sit on the throne and wear your mother’s crown.
Whatever it takes, you will find a way to stop her.
“Welcome to the long-awaited knighting ceremony.” Cassiopeia addresses the audience. “It is an honor to have the kingdom’s finest pledge to serve and protect us.”
The ceremony proceeds to speeches from several dignitaries. Mihawk delivers a short yet intense declamation about the knightage being the greatest honor; and hands the queen regent an elaborate, bejeweled sword.
“These warriors before us today are hereby called forward to receive Knighthood. The kingdom will forever be grateful for your service.” Cassiopeia proclaims.
Attentively observing the knights lined up, you keep an eye out for the one Mihawk recruited for you. One at a time, Cassiopeia announces their name before tapping their shoulders with the ornamental blade.
You grow restless as the line dwindles. Frustrated, you throw questioning looks at the commander’s direction. He skillfully avoids your gaze. The nerve.
When only about five men are left, you begin to study them all and weigh your options. Perhaps you should pick someone with a smaller build, so that you can have a better chance of escaping? You also spotted someone who appeared clumsy. If you were to outsmart him, your odds of surviving weren’t so bleak.
But then—dramatically, as if in slow motion—the great doors to the throne room opened with a loud, booming sound. Everyone turned as light poured into the hall.
A swordsman makes his entrance. His armor is unassuming, but the three blades at his side demand attention. He wears a helmet over his head, but even after so much time, you’d know those eyes anywhere.
Mihawk was right. You would have preferred a convict—or maybe some rogue, or a thief who would rob you blind. You would have preferred anyone over Roronoa Zoro.
You thought you’d never see him again, but he’s here, marching towards the end of the line. You gape at him, feeling too many emotions all at once. Why is he here? Why now?
Mihawk intercepts Cassiopeia before she can question Zoro’s identity. “Forgive me, queen regent. This young man ran late due to an errand I sent him out on.” 
How brilliant of him. Cassiopeia hates unexpected interruptions, but would never express her frustrations openly with so many people watching.
It’s amusing to see her grin and bear it. “That’s… quite alright, commander. I’m glad he made it before the end of the ceremony.”
When only Zoro remains to be appointed, you stand and call for the queen regent’s attention.
“Should he accept, this man shall be my personal knight.” You declare as Zoro’s gaze meets yours.
“What of your decision, knight?” Cassiopeia asks. Zoro nods, and the queen regent’s gaze sharpens. She understands that something is amiss, but passes the decorated blade to you without a word.
Back when you were children, you used to dream of this moment together. Kuina and Zoro would kneel before you on the grass beneath a shining sun, pledging their unwavering loyalty as you tap their shoulders with a stick.
You’re no longer children, but as Zoro kneels before you now, you still feel like a child all the same. Your clothes feel too big. The throne room is too vast; the ceiling too high. The sword is too heavy in your hands as you raise it.
“Roronoa Zoro. I hereby dub thee into the honorable order of knights as my chosen protector.” The blade lands on his shoulder—his right first, then the other. You pray to the stars that no one notices your hold quivering.
“Arise, Sir Zoro, and be recognized.”
You’re no longer children, but you’re still here. Playing a different sort of game.
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Mihawk, the wise man that he is, makes himself scarce after the ceremony. You’re left to awkwardly journey back to your chambers with Zoro in tow. He doesn’t speak a word the entire time, but you can feel his eyes burning a hole through the back of your head. 
Selma is there when you get back, your usual afternoon refreshments prepared. She approaches you, but stops short when she sees Zoro.
“Leave us.” You tell her. She obeys, albeit reluctantly—looking back over her shoulder more than once as she exits.
After the door closes shut, the outside world feels a million miles away; making the air feel tense. You hastily take off your gloves, the fabric suddenly feels constricting against your skin. Every fiber of your being wants to scream at him.
Roronoa Zoro. Your best friend who had left all those years ago. You don’t even know where to start. 
Maybe throwing something at him will make you feel better. 
You throw one of your gloves. The fabric hits his chest before falling pathetically. 
“Seriously?” Zoro frowns at you, unimpressed. You throw the other one. It meets the same fate.
Grumbling under his breath, Zoro takes off his helmet. It vexes you how you subconsciously hold your breath until you see his face.
You huff skeptically, “Why are you here?”
“Mihawk said you needed help.” He answers with a shrug, causing his armor clink. 
After a breath, he speaks cautiously, “I didn’t know things had gotten this bad.”
“How could you have known?” You bite back, “You left, Zoro.”
In a sense, you understand why Mihawk chose him. You asked for someone who wouldn’t kill you in your sleep, and Zoro—at least, the one you knew—definitely wouldn’t.
Some (rational) part of your brain is telling you to keep quiet and accept his help. With Cassiopeia planning a mutiny, time is something you don’t have a lot of. 
But your heart still feels angry and hurt when you see his—stupidly handsome—face. The years just had to treat him well, didn’t they?
“I’m thankful for your help,” You admit disgruntledly. “But I’m not happy about it.”
Zoro calls your name. It makes your heart ache a bit, but you hold a hand up to silence him. 
“Please, just—I need time to process this, Zoro.” Turning away from the knight, your eyes find the window. The sunset paints the meadow in deep oranges and blues. It doesn’t make you feel any better.
“...We’ll talk tomorrow.” You promise, your tiredness evident from your tone.
Zoro lingers, hesitating. But he doesn’t push you. You hear his armor shift as he bows before he leaves.
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That night, Zoro stands guard outside your door. It’s good that no one else is around, it allows him to think in peace. About you.
The last time Zoro saw you, you were a small thing, getting dirt on the edge of your skirt. When he saw you today, sullying even the path you walked on felt like a crime. 
He knew you would be mad. He had prepared himself to be yelled at. Maybe he thought you would cry. How much you went through didn’t really sink in until he saw how exhausted you were. 
All the things he wanted to say, every apology and excuse, fade into nothing. The first thing he wants to tell you is how thankful he is that you’re still alive. It doesn’t matter that you stay mad at him forever, he’ll protect you for just as long.
Footsteps sound through the dim hallway. Zoro rests a hand on his blades, ready to fight back anyone who poses a threat. A knight he’s not acquainted with approaches, his steps staggering just a bit. The man carries a bottle of alcohol.
“Hey! New guy!” The stranger bellows. “This ’ere is a little something we prepared for ya, since yous didn’t eat dinner with us.” Zoro makes a mental note that they’ve been watching him.
“Take it, take it.” The knight tries to shove the bottle into Zoro’s hands. At the last second, Zoro spots a knife the man hides behind his back.
Quick on his feet, Zoro jabs the man’s neck, causing him to stumble. The knight charges at him, but Zoro effortlessly dodges. Grabbing the knight’s shoulder, Zoro slams his head onto the stone wall.
The bottle clatters to the floor as his opponent collapses, looking up at him in fear. Picking up the glass, Zoro sniffs at its contents. It’s laced with some sort of sedative. 
Zoro pries the knight’s jaw open before pouring the drugged beverage into his mouth. The amber liquid spills. The man coughs, gurgling and struggling in vain until he slumps onto the ground.
Observing the bottle inquisitively, Zoro shakes his head before dropping it again. What kind of amateurish attempt was this? Is the queen regent testing his skills? 
If anything, all this managed to do was—Zoro starts, turning to your door in alarm—…divert his attention.
Not a second later, he kicks down your door. The elaborately carved wood falls from its hinges, dust clouds billow once it crashes on the previously spotless tiles of your room.
You’re fighting off three large strangers clad in black, a dagger in your hand. Zoro tries not to think about how your eyes softened in relief when they landed on him as he cuts down one of the intruders. Maybe you still care for him a little.
“Took you long enough!” Or not.
“I’m here now, aren’t I?” He grunts back, slashing his sword at someone charging towards you. Zoro only realizes the deeper meaning to his words when you make a face. 
“Don’t make being late a habit, Zoro!” Stabbing an intruder’s side, you quip at him, “You and your dramatic entrances, I swear.”
Zoro bites back a grin. He missed you more than you’ll ever know. 
After taking down one of the intruders, you hide in your wardrobe as Zoro deals with the rest.
It would be smart to lock the door. Barricade it, so that no one can get to you on the off chance Zoro is defeated. But you don’t. You keep the door ajar to watch everything unfold. The way he fights is a captivating sight.
Look at him. Your knight in lackluster armor. Protecting you like how you always talked about as kids. He’s wielding two blades, one for each perpetrator still standing. You blink in surprise when you make out the third, sheathed blade. Kuina’s.
The more you examine him, the more you see how different he seems. He carries himself more confidently, unlike that boy who whined about roles, responsibilities and challenges. 
You also see how gruff he’s become. He’s grown stronger, for sure, but you get the sense that he’s closed himself off from the world. Perhaps the years weren’t as kind to him as you'd thought.
The last intruder lets out a pitiful cry as Zoro knocks him unconscious.
“I’ll tie them up and let Mihawk deal with them in the morning.” Zoro says, pausing to breathe for a moment before dragging the men out by their feet.
Emerging from your wardrobe, you become dismayed at the sight of your room in such a state. “Did you really have to kick down the door?” You groan.
Surprisingly, Zoro blanks, appearing sheepish. “...I didn’t know it would break like that. I just—you should get a damn better door.” He mumbles, heaving the doors up and resting them against the wall outside.
When he comes back from restraining the intruders, he stands before you awkwardly—like he doesn’t know what to do when he’s not fighting or cleaning up bodies.
No one says anything. You both just take each other in, not completely recognizing the person that looks back.
You don’t feel so angry at him anymore. When all’s said and done, everyone has different ways of dealing with grief. Your heart only grows conflicted, wishing you had been there for each other instead of being apart. Goodness knows you could have used someone by your side. You’re sure he did as well.
“I—” Zoro falters. “...I’m glad you’re okay.”
‘Okay’ isn’t how you would describe your current state, but you nod anyway. 
“You too, Zoro.”
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In a secluded alcove in the royal gardens the following afternoon, you invite Mihawk for tea on the pretense of thanking him for your newly sworn knight. The story that spread was that you would have been done for were it not for Zoro. You don’t want to think about how true that might be.
“The queen regent is furious you were able to secure a knight loyal to you.” Mihawk informs you as he helps himself to some pastries. “We should avoid meeting for a while, lest she suspect anything of me.”
“Alright.” You agree. “Selma also informed me that we can gather statements from mistreated staff.” You show Mihawk a list of names. “If enough of them support us, and if we can prove Cassiopeia orchestrated what happened last night… We can take her down.”
“She will be busy attending a gala this evening. I’ll make sure no one is near her office while she’s gone.” Mihawk turns to Zoro, who is standing guard behind you, sending him a fearsome look. “Those men got a tad too close last night—”
“Mihawk.” You warn him to drop it. He doesn’t.
“Ensure that it doesn’t happen again, young man.” 
“It won’t.” Zoro replies icily. The commander only huffs in response. 
‘It won't happen.’, he said. But trouble finds you when Zoro steps on a tripwire in Cassiopeia's office. Arrows soar, launching from scattered, hidden contraptions. Zoro shoves you into a bookshelf, covering your frame with his.
“So much for her not finding out we were here.” You remark sarcastically, waiting for him to step back.
But then, as they cage your head, Zoro’s arms tense up. His expression contorts in discomfort.
“...Zoro?” Raising your hands, you cradle the sides of his face.
“Damn arrows,” He growls. “I think they’re poisoned.”
“What?!” You gasp, ducking under his arm to check his back. You find a wound where an arrow grazed his skin. “Of course you get injured when you don’t wear your armor.”
“Why don’t you try sneaking around in that thing, then?” Zoro argues, but you’re startled when the wound begins to bleed.
“We need to get you treated.” Panicking, you grab his arm and pull him along. He doesn’t budge. “Zoro, we should go.”
“No.” He refuses, hissing in pain all the while. “That bitch won’t let us find a way in here again. Let’s just be quick.”
“...Fine.” You cave, still worried, hating that he’s right. “At least stay still, search the desk. I’ll handle everything else.”
Zoro relents, opening every drawer and scanning every document in them. You turn your attention to the shelves, trying to find hidden compartments or anything that looks remotely suspicious.
It's not long before a loud crash makes you wince. Zoro found something.
A panel beneath the desk detaches, revealing an ornate box. Studying it, you hum, “It looks like we’ll need a key.” Zoro unsheathes one of his blades, cutting through the lock until it cracks open. 
You shake your head. “Or we could do that, sure.”
However, instead of the nefarious plans or blueprints you were hoping for, you find old papers. All of them yellowing with age. 
“It’s your handwriting.” Zoro points out, picking up the first document.
“What?” You lean in, reading the file over his shoulder. It’s a letter written to acknowledge a transfer of money. But the amount is astronomical, and you don’t remember signing anything of the sort.
“Look at the date.” Pointing to the corner, it reads more than ten years ago. And then it clicks, “My mother wrote this.”
“There’s more than one.” Zoro sifts through the papers, counting over ten.
“All of them are addressed to… Shimotsuki Koushirou?” He reads the name slowly. You look at each other, confused. Why would Queen Florentia be sending payments to Kuina’s father?
A tall longcase clock chimes to signal the hour. If you clean up now and review the evidence later, you can make it look like you were never here. You instruct Zoro to pack up the box.
“We should head out soon.” You say, moving to pick up the arrows scattered on the floor. 
“Be careful.” Zoro reminds you.
“I am.” You show him that you’re holding the arrows by their tail ends. “You can go ahead, if you want. Get that wound treated.”
“Do you really think I would leave you?” You can’t help the incredulous look you send his way. 
“...Forget I said anything.”
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Back in your chambers, you twirl an arrow you decided to keep as evidence while examining the documents sprawled out on your carpet. 
Zoro grabs it from your hand. “I thought I told you to be careful with that.”
You think aloud as he sets the arrow to the side, “I just can’t figure out why my mother gave Koushirou so much money.”
“Maybe she felt bad about the accident.” Your swordsman suggests. “We all did.”
“But why did she have to keep it quiet…” Mumbling in thought, you read the last receipt Queen Florentia signed. It had been penned the week of her death.
The sky grows darker, and it becomes more difficult to see. Zoro strikes a match to light a few candles, bathing the room in a subtle, warm light.
Beneath the dim, flickering flames, the sharp arrow on your tea table glints ominously. 
It took you a long while to get over spacing out whenever you saw an arrow. It was one of the things that affected you after Kuina’s passing.
Sometimes, you think of how much better everything would be if she was still here. If it weren’t for that—
…accident?
“Zoro?” Your voice is unsteady, “...What do you remember about Kuina’s death?”
“It was some new guy at the training grounds.” He answers, frowning as he recalls what happened. “He misfired, and his knighthood got revoked after that.”
“But,” Memories come flooding back as you try to piece things together. “If the archers were practicing that day, what was Kuina doing in the grounds?”
“Kuina wasn’t in the grounds.” Zoro corrects you. “She was in that meadow we always went to.” 
He points to the view outside, raising a finger to trace the horizon. “The arrow flew through the fence, but it was really dangerous, even—” 
Zoro turns back to you with wide eyes. “Even the queen was almost hit! Holy shit, she was there to observe that day.” 
You blink at him in disbelief, “My mother was the real target.”
“And she didn’t want the culprit to know she realized, which is why she kept quiet about the money.” 
You collapse into a chair as you run your hands over your head. “Did anyone ever check the arrow for poison?”
“No.” Zoro’s face crumples. “She was hit straight in the heart... She wouldn’t have made it even if it wasn’t poisoned.”
“Oh, Kuina…” You choke back a sob, covering your face with both hands. “I’m so sorry it took us this long.”
“Wait.” Zoro calls out your name, taking your hand and kneeling in front of you. The strength of his grip hurts, but you don’t mind it. You need to feel that he’s with you right now; especially when his next question makes your heart fall through the floor.
“How did your mother die?” 
“She—she got sick. A lot of our people got sick that year.” You answer shakily, not liking where this is going. “Do you think…”
“Queen Florentia could have been poisoned.” Zoro whispers. “And I bet that fake bitch was responsible for it. For Kuina’s death too.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.” You counter, “Cassiopeia deals with poisons, sure, but she wasn’t even in the kingdom yet then.” 
“...Someone must have betrayed your mother so Cassiopeia could be queen regent.” He suggests, rubbing circles into your palm. “Because isn’t it convenient, how she was there to bring the people together after Her Majesty died?”
It’s confusing how the world seems to have slowed down, and yet your mind is spinning so quickly, you can’t process anything. You squeeze Zoro’s hand to anchor you, but you shatter all the same. 
“I hate everything.” You cry, tears streaming down your face. “I hate how I didn’t know—but we were kids! How were we supposed to know? And, I hate feeling so powerless. What—how, are we going to fix this?”
“We’ll find a way, I promise.” Zoro moves to embrace your form, but you glare at him.
“You. I hate you too.” You push him away weakly, but he doesn’t let you go. “I—I hate that you left, Zoro… You have no idea how lost I was.”
His eyes glisten with tears. “I was lost without you too.”
Zoro feels you melt into his arms. Your strength just vanishes, and you slump forward until your forehead touches his.
“...Don’t leave me then.” You whisper. You beg.
He holds your cheek, wiping your tears with his thumb. “Never.”
The last thing you remember before falling asleep is Zoro pressing the softest kiss to your temple as he tucks you in bed.
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Selma barges in the next morning, slamming the (newly repaired) doors open. As you rub the sleep from your eyes, you’re starting to feel sad for the abuse your doors have been going through lately.
“Princess! Your Ladyship! Your Highness—” She stops abruptly, covering her mouth, looking scandalized. What is she so flabbergasted by—
Only then do you see Zoro sleeping on the floor beside you. He’s leaning on the bed, using his forearms as a pillow. One of his hands is intertwined tightly with yours.
“Your Highness!” Selma gasps playfully, gesturing to your mother’s portrait. “Right in front of Her Majesty!”
“Selma,” You sit up, letting go of Zoro’s hand. “Did you have anything important to report?”
“Ah!” She exclaims, face becoming worried once more, “The commander has been imprisoned!”
You curse, shaking Zoro’s shoulder to wake him. “Couldn’t you have told me that first?”
“Forgive me, princess. It’s not everyday I see you holding hands with a man. May I ask who confessed first, Your Highness?”
“Oh my god, Selma.” You groan. “Just go prepare my clothes.”
“Shall I dress you, or will Sir Zoro—”
“Selma!”
If Zoro heard any of Selma’s ramblings, he’s excellent at hiding it. You both get ready in record time. After which, he leads the way to the dungeons; careful to make sure you don’t run into anyone. 
“We can sneak him out through that secret passage we used to play in.” You whisper, your knight nods. 
“When we get to him, break the lock with your dagger. I’ll stand guard in case someone comes over.”
But someone already beat you to Mihawk’s cell. Zoro pulls you into a shadowed corner to hide.
The queen regent paces in front of the bars, her extravagant dress and cape out of place in this gloomy dungeon. 
Mihawk is on the ground, his wrists chained with heavy shackles. Yoru is noticeably missing from his back. Seeing him like this is heartbreaking.
“I should have known you’d help that wench.” Cassiopeia sneers. “You’ll regret not siding with me soon enough, Dracule.”
“Now that you’ve found me out, I can finally ask you to stop calling me that.” Mihawk yawns. “My name always sounded revolting in your voice.” Crazy bastard, will it kill him to try to stay alive?
“But Florentia called you that, didn’t she?” 
Zoro squints at how something about Mihawk changes at the mention of your mother. It’s almost imperceptible, but the air shifts dangerously. The queen regent should watch her mouth.
“Her name sounds revolting in your voice too.”
Cassiopeia scoffs. “You’re just like her. Thinking you’re better than everyone else.”
“Aren’t you talking about yourself?” Mihawk leans back, crossing his legs. “That’s not a good habit, Cassie.”
The queen regent kicks the cell. Mihawk doesn't flinch as she snarls, “I’ll deal with the princess and that knight... I’ll make you watch as the light fades from their eyes.” Gathering her skirt, her heels clack loudly as she stomps away.
As soon as she’s out of earshot, you and Zoro run to the commander.
“Mihawk!” You call out as you stab the lock with your dagger. It crumbles to the ground after a few strikes. “What happened? What did she charge you with?”
“Treason, apparently.” He shrugs, the chains holding him rattling together.
Mihawk goes on as you break his shackles, “This kingdom should be grateful we’re trying at all. We could easily leave them to their own devices—” You frown at him. 
“...But of course, we won’t do that.”
Sneaking into the library, you regroup with Selma; who passes on vital information.
“The queen regent has the palace on lockdown. Everyone has orders to take you in.” She tells you. “But I’ve rallied the staff. We're going to plead your case to the ministers, Your Highness.”
“Thank you. Do you have my mother's letters?” She nods. “Good. Use them well. I'll make sure your efforts will not go to waste.” You say, giving her hands a firm squeeze. 
“Where’s that fake queen now?” Zoro looks eager for a fight.
“One of the butlers said that the queen regent disappears sometimes, and no one knows where she goes.” Selma explains, passing you a note from her source. “There are rumors that she smells like grass when she returns.”
Mihawk lets out a disbelieving laugh, “She must be at the secret garden.”
“The what?” You ask. That sounds exactly like something you would have loved as a child, but why haven’t you heard of it before?
“It’s a place reserved for queens. Only crowned monarchs should be allowed in there, or even know where it is.” He says. “That woman truly doesn’t know her place.”
“Why do you know about it?” Zoro asks.
After a pause, the older swordsman deflects, “I’ve been called a queen once.”
“Mihawk,” You urge him to be serious. “Can you take us there?”
Before he responds, Mihawk looks at you with something you can’t fully discern, as if he’s recalling an old memory.
“Of course. It’s your birthright, after all.”
The entrance to the secret garden is hidden in a passageway beneath the greenhouse. You imagine your mother walking along this path, to a sanctuary she could truly call her own.
But the vision darkens when you think of how Cassiopeia has been using the space all this time. You hope you're still able to recognize traces of your mother when you get there.
An iron gate stands at the end of the path. Vines tangle through the metal spirals and flowers. Mihawk holds a finger to his lips, carefully opening the gates without a sound except for the rustling of leaves. You all crouch behind a large plant that fans out, over your heads.
And then, you see it. You see what your mother left for you.
The centerpiece of the garden is an intricate pedestal, Yoru is propped up against it. On top of it, however, is a glass case displaying your mother’s most treasured golden necklace.
You almost want to run to it, but Zoro grabs your arm, warning you not to take another step. He nods towards where Cassiopeia stands in front of oddly shaped vials and strange devices containing diff chemicals. She douses a sword with an eerie purple liquid as she speaks.
“Three against one... That hardly seems fair.” She kisses her teeth. Looking over her shoulder, she glares. “Why don’t we fight on even ground?”
Out of nowhere, a large cage falls towards the three of you. Mihawk pushes you and Zoro out of the way, but isn’t able to avoid the cage himself.
“And I just escaped. What a shame.” Mihawk fusses, but you can see that he’s relieved you’re alright.
“Maybe you’re meant to be in a cell, Dracule.” Cassiopeia remarks. “I’ll have your kids join you shortly.”
There’s only one of her, this should be easy, right?
She throws a bottle at you. Luckily, you’re able to dodge it. The bottle shatters, its contents spilling over the bystanding greenery. The liquid turns out to be acid, burning through the foliage and leaving a smoky trail. 
Well, fuck.
Zoro also seems to realize how serious this fight is. For the first time since you’ve reunited, he unsheathes Kuina’s sword, placing the hilt in his mouth.
You brandish your dagger as you yell, “Really? You bite it? What would Kuina say?” He sends you a look. You try not to laugh.
And in the next second, you charge at Cassiopeia together.
It’s difficult to get close enough to land a hit. The queen regent leads you in a dance of acids and poisons. You dodge one bottle only to be met with the toxic end of her blade. It seems that your mother’s dagger won’t be enough in this fight.
“I didn't get this far to be stopped by the likes of you!” Shrieking, she lunges at you.
“You will never be queen!” You roar back.
Behind her, your eyes spot Yoru leaning on the pedestal. The blade is large and intimidating, and you’re not entirely sure if you can wield it correctly… But you might not have a choice right now.
As you were distracted, Cassiopeia’s sword almost cuts through your side. Panicking, you stumble backwards. Zoro slashes at your enemy’s wrist. Her hold on the poisoned weapon falters. It plummets with a clang.
While she’s occupied with Zoro, you rush towards Yoru. From behind the bars, Mihawk watches, holding his breath as you wrap both hands around Yoru’s hilt—but the damn thing is too heavy. 
“Dear princess, you should have learned from your mother!” Cassiopeia smashes a bottle on Zoro’s head. “Stop sticking your nose where it doesn't belong!”
The glass explodes into countless glittering shards. A red gas escapes into the air, and your knight inhales far too much of it.
He falls, and for that moment, the entire rest of the world vanishes until all you see is him. Your ears start to ring. His grip loosens on his swords. 
No. Please. Not him. Not anyone else. No more.
Mihawk calls your name. You turn to him, on the verge of breaking down. But then, he nods once, slowly. The action reminds you to breathe—filling you with an overwhelming sense of strength. You can do this.
Screaming, you attempt to brandish Yoru again. 
You swing the legendary greatsword in a perfect arc. Once it collides with the ground, the air ripples. Power surges through an invisible force headed straight for the queen regent. She tries to run, but the hit lands.
Her eyes don’t stray from yours as she collapses. In her final moments, she falls from grace, howling in agony and rage. 
As a last ditch attempt, she throws one last vial of acid at Zoro. You’re about to curse the world all over again as you run to stop it.
Mihawk throws a tiny sword like a dart, miraculously breaking the container before it lands on your knight. Your knees give out, and you pull Zoro into your arms as you gasp for air.
It’s done.
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Zoro wakes up to the feeling of you checking his temperature. Your hand is warm against his forehead, making him want to reach up and hold it. He should probably wake up and check on you now.
“Oh.” He hears Mihawk speak, “I didn’t realize your relationship took a certain… turn.”
On second thought, another minute of sleep won’t hurt.
“Not you too, Mihawk.” You groan. “I get enough of that from Selma.”
“Ah, yes. I heard.” The swordsman deadpans, “Hand holding. How scandalous.”
“Alright, if you’re not going to be of any help whatsoever, please just go.”
“If you wanted time alone with him, you could have just said so.”
“Goodbye, Mihawk.”
Zoro hears you escort Mihawk out, and he takes the moment alone to open his eyes. He’s in his quarters, which is a few doors down from yours so that he can easily get to you. 
Not that he stays here often, Zoro prefers standing guard outside your chambers. It’s strange how he lasted years without seeing you, because now that you’re back in each other’s lives, he becomes restless whenever you’re not around. 
Like right now. What’s taking you so long?
The door opens. Zoro perks up, but deflates when he sees that it’s Selma bringing in a pitcher of water. 
“You could’ve at least hidden your disappointment better, Sir Zoro.” She huffs at him, taking full offense. “I’ll go get your princess.”
“Oh!” She yelps excitedly, “My bad, it’s queen anointed now, isn’t it?”
Zoro smiles, his voice raspy with sleep, “That has a nice ring to it.”
“Indeed, it does.” Selma nods, bidding him farewell. 
He doesn’t have to wait long to hear your rushing footsteps. The door opens again to reveal you, this time. Your eyes shine in that really pretty way they do when you’re happy. He’s glad that’s among the things that didn’t change.
Zoro opens his arms, inviting you, “Come here.”
Not needing to be told twice, you fall into his arms, burying your face in his chest.
“You’re okay.” You murmur.
“I wasn’t about to miss your coronation, Your Majesty.” Zoro pokes your nose. He did that a lot when you were kids, you forgot how much you liked it.
“Thank you for being okay.” Leaning down, you kiss his cheek softly.
Zoro brushes his fingers through your hair. He holds your face in his hands, tracing your features as if that will help him memorize the happiness he feels in his heart. The sort of happiness he thought was lost to him forever.
“Hey,” Zoro speaks your name with care. “I love you a lot, you know.”
He always envisioned confessing to you in some dramatic, elaborate way that you’d deserve. There could have been a beautiful sunset. He would’ve brought flowers.
But he was wrong. All he needs are the words themselves, and you—smiling the way you’re smiling at him now. 
You laugh, “I might love you more, I think.”
Zoro shakes his head, sitting up so that he can bring his face to yours properly. “Doubt it.”
The kiss tastes like magic, like you were always meant to find each other's lips. His heart starts doing something funny, and he has to pull you closer—hold you tighter. You respond eagerly, kissing him back so intoxicatingly that he’ll remember the softness of your lips for as long as he lives.
Later that week, your coronation is a grand and extravagant affair.
When Cassiopeia's misdeeds came to light, the people banded together to celebrate her downfall. Those loyal to her either surrendered or tried to escape. Although none of them were able to get away, since Zoro and Mihawk were ruthless towards those involved in the attempted mutiny.
The crown on your head will take some to get used to. It still feels like you're borrowing something of your mother's; but instead of shying away from it like you had before, you step into it openly. You're ready to become a successor worthy to carry on her legacy of kindness and strength.
Uncharted these waters may be, at least you have Zoro now, who would dive into any perilous sea right after you.
Escaping the celebratory banquet and the revelries, you visit Queen Florentia and Kuina's graves with Zoro. It's only right that you pay respects together.
You leave flowers on your mother's headstone, thanking her for everything she did. You're startled when Zoro takes one of his swords, holding it in front of him as he kneels in front of the previous queen.
“Your Majesty, Queen Florentia,” He speaks, his tone steady and sure. “I, Roronoa Zoro, vow to never leave your daughter’s side. I will protect her until I draw my last breath. I swear to cherish her, and to love her even in my next life.”
What is he doing, making you cry like this? It turns out that emotional boy you knew is still somewhere in there. Your heart feels full, knowing your mother would have appreciated the gesture.
As you're about to move on to Kuina's grave, Zoro motions for you to go ahead without him. You look at him strangely, but do as he says to give him some space. 
Mihawk emerges from the treeline when you've gone far enough.
“You look like you’re about to leave without saying goodbye.” Zoro remarks.
“Of course you’d know how that works, hm?” Mihawk challenges, raising a sharp brow. “Try even thinking about leaving and I’ll return to make sure it’s your last thought."
“Didn't you just hear the oath I made to the love of your life?” Zoro turns to Florentia's tombstone again. “Your Majesty, back me up here.”
“She would have approved of you.” Mihawk’s frown is unimpressed, but his gaze is unmistakably caring. 
“...Take care of her, Zoro.”
“Of course. I promise.”
As Mihawk walks away, Zoro asks him one last question, “How are your regrets now, old man?”
The former commander’s shoulders shake in a mixture of amusement and relief. “I suspect they'll heal, with time.”
When Zoro catches up to you at Kuina's grave, you're grinning at him. He can picture that same grin on Kuina's face if she were here. 
“We were just talking about you.” You jest, “All bad things, too.”
“You had nothing to talk about, then.” Zoro sits on the grass beside you. “I’m perfect for you.”
Appalled, you scoff and turn to Kuina's headstone. “Can you believe this guy?”
That day, you talked for hours, even after the sun had set. And on the trek back to the palace, a soft breeze caressed your skin. It felt like Kuina encouraging you, sending you off onto the next chapter of your lives.
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Zoro becomes Captain of the Royal Guard once Mihawk leaves. He's teaching you about weapons and self defense when he picks up your dagger to inspect it, turning it this way and that curiously.
“Is there something wrong with it?” You ask, observing it too.
“This pattern and material.” Zoro says, tracing a certain swirl on the weapon. “I feel like I've seen it before.”
“Ah,” He says in realization, tracing a finger down your neck and making you shiver. “It’s the pattern on your necklace.”
“My mother must have had them made together.” You say, unclasping the chain before handing it to him.
There's a gap in the center of the pendant. Thin and barely noticeable, but it looks like it can be opened by something sharp.
“Do you mind if I,” Zoro gestures at the dagger.
“Just don't break it.” You say. “Treat it like my heart.”
Zoro makes a face that pulls a laugh out of you. “I would never do this to your heart.” Aw. You might have melted a little.
The tip of the blade slots perfectly into the pendant. After twisting it slowly like a key, the metal clicks to reveal: a locket.
Handing it over to you carefully, Zoro lets you open it the rest of the way. Inside, there are images drawn on two panels. You, as a child on one side… and Mihawk on the other. Now you understand why your mother treasured this so much. Tearing up, you sigh.
“You’re not surprised.” Zoro notes.
“...I think a part of me always knew.” You respond. “And, I definitely felt something when I held Yoru. No wonder why.”
Treading carefully, Zoro wraps his arms around your waist as he asks, “You’re not upset that he left?”
“But he didn’t. He’ll always be there for me, and so will you.” You smile up at him. “I’m happy I found my family again.”
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Many years ago…
The grass on the meadow bristles gently in the wind. Dusk bathes the land in a dreamy, gold and purple hue. 
After a day filled with imaginary adventures, two children wave their dearest friend goodbye. The princess smiles at them fondly before returning to the castle.
Kuina grins, face eager as she points her training sword to the sky. “I’ll be her knight someday. I’ll be commander and everything.”
Zoro jolts, immediately expressing in protest, “No, I’ll be the one to protect her! I’ll be commander!”
“Oh yeah?” The girl’s smile turns knowing. She pokes Zoro’s waist with her sword. “How will you do that? Aren’t you going to marry her?”
Stunned, Zoro can only stare at her in response. A blush creeps up his neck, reddening the tips of his ears. Kuina seizes the opportunity to make a run for it.
“Princess, wait up! Zoro wants to tell you something!”
“Kuina! Get back here!”
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read the companion piece / my notes / the timeline of this story (in mihawk's perspective) here : "the taste of ale"
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© togenabi 2023 | see here to be added to my taglist ♡
tags: @songsofadelaide-archive @ay0nha @amitydoodlez @sweetexistentialism @murnsondock @starszns @msmisasoup @writingmysanity @hotchocolattee @dimplewonie @hearts4zoro @kenkenmaaa @appalost @commanderfreethatdust @onebatch--twobatch @rebeccawinters @gunslxtz @akakaze @lownna
2K notes · View notes
angel-eyes05 · 10 months
Text
to leave the warmest bed i've ever known
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pairing: spiderwoman!reader x miguel o’hara 
summary: after miguel’s fight with miles, you confront him in his office
warnings: this whole thing is basically one big argument there’s SO much angst, implied suicide attempt, HUGE ATSV SPOILERS DO NOT READ THIS IF YOU HAVEN'T SEEN THIS MOVIE, im projecting a little in some parts of this ngl (i cried writing a certain section of this, you'll know it when you read it lmao), mentions and descriptions of blood, gore, and death
word count:  4.1k
notes: i watched the movie yesterday…and miguel is on my mind. but i remember reading this namor x reader fanfic after i watched wakanda forever of a similar idea to this and i loved it so this is HEAVILY inspired by that fic, but just make it miguel. i would link it but ngl that was so long ago and i dont remember the author. if i end up finding it again ill put it here. also, just pretend miguel has been doing this whole spider society thing for a couple of years at least, it just needs to work like that for this ik its probably not canon but just roll with it lmao. and yes the title is a taylor swift lyric im so glad you noticed (im so sorry she's in my brain rn with the eras tour)
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The anger boiled up inside your chest as you stormed your way across the lobby. Hundreds of different Spider-Man variants were scattered across the area, some more injured than the others. It sickened you sometimes. How he had so many people under his grasp and just decided to throw some of them at the walls sometimes, not caring how hard they hit the floor because they were all just ammo to him. How despite his denials of it, that’s probably what your role was to him as well. Nothing more than a bullet in his massive machine gun.
You normally tried not to think about it, how his determination towards his goal sometimes meant lack of care for others. But this time he had just gone too far. You always had a soft spot for Miles, watching closely on him whenever Miguel would let you go though scanners of all the different variants. You admired his struggle, but eventual success to taking up the previous Peter’s mantle, and always hated how Miguel talked about him. You knew there was no way Miles could’ve asked for any of this. For the pressures and struggles of being a Spider-Man, for everything causing such a strained relationship with his parents, for the death of his uncle, and for what will be the eventual death of his father. You definitely didn’t.
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Ok lets do this one last time. Eh, whatever, there’s probably gonna be 50 other introductions after this one so it doesn’t really matter.
Being Earth-837’s Spider-Man has never been easy. Especially since you were bit when you were only 13 (another reason you sympathized with Miles and Gwen). Your life had followed the order of canon events to a perfect T, your older brother killed in a fight with a robber only two months after you were bit. You tried to overcome the burden of your powers by trying to live as normal of a teenage life as possible, but it was mostly in vain, having to give up multiple friendships and relationships in fear of those you love getting hurt. This was only elevated when your boyfriend Peter was murdered in the crossfire of an encounter with Doc Ock. You didn’t understand. You couldn’t. What you had done to deserve all of this. All you did was just be in the wrong place at the wrong time. You wonder sometimes what would happen if someone was in the same place you were when you got bit. If someone else went to the closed down area of that museum and ran into that spider. That stupid spider that ruined your life. Those thoughts slowly started to disappear for a bit. For a few years things were easy. Things seemed like they were finally going in your favor.
You were 25 when it happened. The last canon event. Ever since you were a little girl you hated your mother’s job. Losing nights of sleep over if she would come home or not. She always did though. She was good at her job. Too good though. Good enough to get promoted to police captain, which for who you were, was basically sealing her fate. She saved so many people that day. You were too busy fighting Venom to notice how much collateral damage you were causing in the process. Your mother’s job was to evacuate all the citizens away from the fight. She died shielding a child from incoming debris. A noble way to go. But god was it gruesome. You found her after the fight was over, two metal poles impaling her. One through her stomach and one straight through her face, pools of blood growing bigger below her as she was left there, all the paramedics busy trying to save the heavily injured. You froze when you finally recognized her, unable to at first due to how mutilated her face was from the pole. Suddenly, you were transported back to being a six year old, falling asleep outside the door to your mother’s bedroom so you would know exactly when she would come home. Purposefully falling asleep in her arms so that she couldn’t go anywhere.
When you used the key she had given you to get into her apartment that night, and you slept in her room, desperate to intake anything left of her before she was fully gone. You doused yourself in her perfume so it still felt like she was standing right behind you. You had always loved her smell. The smell of vanilla, curl product, and fancy perfume. They were attached to memories you had of her. Trying on her heels when you were a kid to try and be fancy like her. Smelling her hair in the morning before school to comfort you before she left for work. Despite all of this bringing you comfort, all it really did was cause further denial in your heart. That one day you were gonna hear the keys clacking in the keyhole to your apartment one more time. That’s all you really wanted. You would give everything up in a heartbeat just to hear her police scanner go off one last time. But it wasn’t going to. And it was your fault. Deep down you knew it was. You should’ve done a better job controlling the debris. You had always been a messy fighter, but you didn’t know it was going to mean anything until it was too late. 
How you got up to the top of that building is still a blur to you to this day. But next thing you know, you were looking at the New York City skyline from the very top of the Empire State Building. And at the very edge too. You heard some sounds behind you, but you just decided it was the wind howling from how high up you were. You were just so tired. Everything and everyone you loved was cursed all because of you. And with your mother as the most recent victim, you decided you finally had enough. You took a deep breath, eyes overflowed with water, as you set your foot forward.
Your plummet was interrupted by a sudden contact you felt to your forearm. Shock filled your body as you turned around to look at what had stopped your attempt. The blue hand was massive, nearly wrapping back around onto itself as it held onto you for dear life. You finally looked up at face that the hand belonged to. The mask that covered the massive figure was a strange one. Blue with strange red silhouettes for the eyes. It kind of reminded you of…your own costume? That couldn’t be though there was no way. This must be the afterlife or something. You already jumped and that's why you didn’t remember your way up to the top. This was some kind of creature trying to stop you from jumping down to hell below. His breaths were heavy and loud, almost like he was desperate to stop you. This convinced you that this was real, which caused you to try to escape from his grip. He was stronger than you, and was putting up a huge fight. You were slick though. Once you were out of his hand, you closed your eyes and quickly made your jump. Everything flashed before your eyes. Your brother, Peter, your mom. You were hoping to see them soon. This was very quickly interrupted again when you suddenly stopped falling. Something had attached itself to your stomach. You opened your eyes. A web? This web was much different than yours though. It was glowing a bright, neon orange.
The man was holding onto the end of it tightly with both hands. His mask then disappeared to show his face. His was long, matching how big the rest of his body was, defined cheek bones sticking out. Brown wavy hair slicked back with a few loose strands flying out in the wind. The look of desperation on his face stook out most of all. Why did he care so much? He didn’t know you, and you definitely didn’t know him. “Let me pull you up. Please,” he said to you between shaky pants. You stared at him for a bit before nodding. He slowly pulled you up with the string of his web, each move more careful than the last. As soon as your feet were planted safely back on the roof of the building, he wrapped you up in his massive arms. You appreciated the gesture, but you didn’t return it, still very confused about why he was so concerned. He was so big around your body though, you couldn’t help but feel a little comforted, feeling his still shaky breaths against the hairs of your neck. Soon after, he clicked on some buttons on his neon orange watch and led you into a portal.
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The rest is history. You’re grateful he found you that day. It allowed you to meet so many people, Peter B., Jess, Gwen, Hobie, Ben, Pavitr, Margo. They all related to you and you felt like you could share things with them that you couldn’t do with anyone else. You had grown especially close to Peter and Jess, both of them having been in the game for a long time, just like you. They both knew how you felt, having lost so much and growing so tired after so many years. Peter even named you as Mayday’s godmother when she was born, a gesture that caused you to nearly kill him with your hug. Miguel though was different. He wasn’t nearly as social as the rest of your friends, but you found yourself having much more intimate moments with him (in more ways then one). You eventually found out why Miguel was so concerned for you the day you met. He had taken interest in your abilities early into looking for variants for his little “project”, but refrained from roping you into something so dangerous while you were still in your teens.
Once you were old enough though, he started paying more and more attention, hoping to catch you in a fight and recruit you then. But he was always pulled away with more important duties to attend to. That was until he witnessed your canon event. He had seen it happen so many times before through his scanners. It was going to happen. It had to in order for your universe to not collapse in on itself. But for some reason, yours hurt more than the rest to him. Especially how you coped with it. Seeing you wrap yourself up in her blankets and clothes broke his heart. He knew where this would lead to. That’s why he was there that day. To save you. He had to, or he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself. You got your own watch immediately, along with your own room in the Spider Society headquarters. He stayed close with you for the first month of you being a member of the team. When he wasn’t out on missions, he was with you. You didn’t really know what to label you two as, but whatever was going on, you liked it. And he did too.
That is until Miles came into the picture. Once Miles was bit, all hell broke loose for Miguel. He was always in some alternate dimension catching some Spider-Man villain who got out and rangled them back over here, falling back over to you more beat up and bruised than the last time. You couldn’t imagine how much stress he was under, the fate of the entire multiverse up to him. You had some ways of helping him relieve his stress, but you wish you could convince him that he wasn’t alone in this. But nothing ever got through to him. He had become distant, aloof even. You tried bringing it up to Jess every so often, but she would just brush it off.
“That’s how he’s always been.” Not to you he hasn’t. This week has been hell though. With Spot making it over to Miles, Miguel had been going into rages all week. You had put up with it for now, but that was all about to stop. Watching how harsh he was being on Miles, throwing so many Spider-Men at an innocent boy, risking all of their lives in the process. Disregarding everything Gwen and Peter were feeling and then throwing Gwen back into her broken world with nothing. He had gone too far. No one else was going to stand up to him about it, so you knew it had to be you. Maybe he would listen, maybe he wouldn’t. It didn’t really matter. He just needed to hear it.
“It’s not worth it you know.” The voice snapped you out of your thoughts, stopping you in your tracks. “You know how stubborn he gets over these things,” said Jess, trying to convince you to save your breath. “I don’t care. I have to at least try,” you responded, monotonically. “I just don’t understand how you can follow him so blindly and not see what he’s doing is wrong.” “Because he isn’t wrong. I don’t know about you, but I’m not just gonna stand by and let some kid’s stupid decisions destroy another Earth,” Jess argued. “He’s just trying to save his dad, I can’t understand how that makes him such a bad person,” you said, finally turning around to face her, shocked when she was closer to you than expected.
“You know exactly why. Don’t be so naive, y/n,” she shot back. “You can’t stop me,” you said staring straight into her. She shrugged. “Then I can’t help you.” She began to walk away. You did to, until you heard her say. “You don’t know how much he cares for you.” You turned around to face her again, but her back was still to you, her head tilted ever so slightly to look at you. “If you really do care for the kid, watch what you say to Miguel right now. Cause you might just give him the final push he needs to do what needs to be done.” You didn’t give her a response, and just simply kept walking. You felt Jess’ eyes on your back as you entered the elevator to get up to Miguel’s office.
The elevator ride up felt longer than it should’ve, as you tried to gather all of your thoughts and emotions together so even if he didn’t listen, your words would still stick with him in some way. You didn’t necessarily want to hurt him (though your fists were telling you otherwise), but you did want him to be aware of what he’s done. Once the doors finally opened, all of that work flew out the window as rage took over your body again, seeing Miguel up there looking at the scanners. The fact that he looked just as normal as he always does made you furious. It’s like nothing happened.
“You know, I could hear you coming in from the lobby,” he said, almost stopping you in your tracks. You hated when he did that. Claiming that he knew what your every move was going to be. Like you were under his control or something. “Yeah, well then you must’ve heard me talking to Jess, which means you know exactly what this is about,” you shot back, stopping to where you could see him perched up there. “Why don’t you just save me the conversation about morality and just come up here and kick my ass already. It’ll save both of us time,” he said, not even taking his eyes off the scanners to look down at you. This only added to your fury. “That’s not what I’m here for Miguel, so don’t you dare try to twist my words here. What you did to that kid was fucked up and you know it.” “Oh yeah, then why didn’t you try to do anything to stop me?” he questioned.
“Because I’m not stupid Miguel. I’m not gonna try to take down hundreds of Spider-Men at once.” “Oh, cause you’re so much better than that?” This wasn’t like him at all. That gentle, kind, and caring Miguel you once knew was gone, taken over by some sort of personal vendetta he had against Miles. “Listen, I don’t know what’s going on with you, but this all needs to stop before it gets taken too far. You’re getting into a fight you can’t win. That kid’s strong and so are his allies. And if you go any further into this, I won’t be here to help you.” He stayed still and only turned his head to look at you. “And what makes you think that you’re so important to my plan that it’ll fall apart if you leave? Have you really become that pretentious?”
Your body froze. Have I really? No no no, that’s exactly what he wants. If you begin to doubt yourself now, you’ll stay and nothing will change. You knew you were right. He was trying to crumble you down, but you wouldn’t let that happen. “And you really think that one kid is going to ruin something that you’ve been working for for years? How insecure you’ve become.” “You have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said, turning back away from you. You did the same, wiping off your face in anger. “I hate it when you do tha-,” you said as you turned back around, but were cut off to find Miguel standing there right in front of you. He was close. Too close to your liking, although in any other circumstance you would’ve found this attractive.
He tilted his head up, but his eyes were down staring daggers into yours. You hated how much he tried to make himself seem more superior to you. “You have no idea what you’re talking about,” he repeated, this time slower as if you were a child. “He’s just a kid Miguel,” you said in a low, quiet voice. “An anomaly. And a dangerous one at that.” “God Miguel, all he wants to do is protect his dad, do you know how insane you sound right now?” you said letting out a slight laugh when you finished. You backed away from him a little. “He doesn’t know how much damage he’ll do with this. Saving his father will only prolong the inevitable. His world will be gone within hours if he does this. All I’m trying to do is make him understand,” he tried to explain. “By trying to kill him.” “You always have to exaggerate the situation,” he said palming his face. “But that’s essentially what you’re trying to do isn’t it? Why not snuff out the problem entirely by taking him out!”
He signed and began to walk away while you were talking, bringing up your anger even more. “Yeah, use all the power you’ve accumulated over the years and just take out the small problem! Except this isn’t just a fly on the wall Miguel. This is a child! An innocent boy who didn’t ask for any of this to happen to him, just like how we didn’t. I get it, I’m sorry that this job is stressful, I really am. But that gives you zero right to act the way you are!” You were screaming at him at this point. You didn’t want to. You didn’t want your emotions to get the best of you. But he was being too stubborn. This was the only way you thought you could get to him. You might not have wanted to, but you needed to hurt him now. It was the only way.
“You can’t be so power blind that you refused to accept the fact that there could be a way around Captain Davis’ death. You said we saved Earth’s before, I’m sure we could do it again.” Your anger only kept rising when he kept walking away and didn’t respond. “This is a personal thing isn’t it?” you asked calmly. You knew it was working now when he stopped walking. “Yeah, it it. You won’t let Miles get his happy ending. Because why should he be pardoned of his burden while the rest of us have suffered so much. While you’ve suffered so much.” The answer to your question was confirmed when Miguel stayed silent. “Just because you didn’t get the life you wanted Miguel, doesn’t mean you have the right to stop other people from getting theirs.”
You knew you overstepped the line when Miguel turned around and started walking towards you, fury burning in his crimson eyes. “Yeah, so what! What if that is what this is all about! You should know better than anyone how much this job takes away from you!” he screamed at you, backing you up into a wall. “Why should he get to be let off so easily, while people like you and me have to suffer so much? Don’t try to turn me into the villain here when I know you’re thinking the exact same thing, y/n.” He wasn’t entirely wrong. You had wondered it at some points. “I won’t let you turn this onto me Miguel, this is about you,” you fired back. “Oh no, you’re not getting off that easily. I know you’re thinking it. And you’re right. Why should Miles get let off so easily when you’ve lost so much.” He held your hands in his, trying to connect to you. “And you have mi vida. You’ve had so much taken from you and it’s unfair. Why should he only have lost one person when you’ve had three taken from you. Your brother, Peter, your moth-.”
He was cut off by your hand striking against his face in a harsh blow. “If you’re smart, and I know you are, you’ll keep those three out of them. I won’t let you drag their names through the dirt for something as stupid as this.” You both stood there for a while, both of your eyes looking towards the ground, hoping it would open up to swallow you both as an escape from this god awful conversation. You never wanted it to come to this. In all honesty, you cared for Miguel. You might’ve even loved him, if you were even capable of doing such a thing. You hoped he felt the same way about you, but in a job like this, he always had at least one wall up around you. It just wasn’t worth it anymore. You were too tired to keep trying for something that was most likely going to fall apart in the end. 
“You’re still going after him aren’t you?” you asked, finally breaking the silence. Miguel looked back up at you. “You can’t ask me not to. You know better than anyone why this is so important to me.” He moved his hand up to cup your cheek and kissed your forehead gently. You let it sit there for a minute out of habit before pushing it off your face. “And you must know why I can’t stay anymore then.” His shoulders dropped. “Whatever this thing between us is. It’s over. I can’t stay beside someone who can’t see what he’s doing is wrong.” Miguel’s dropped hand turned into a fist of anger. “Fine,” he spat in your face. “I don’t need someone like you in my way. You’re just a liability to this anyways.” He began to walk away from you back to his scanners. “Just don’t come crying back over to me when your little plan doesn’t work out, cause I won’t help you.” He used his webs to pull himself back up to the platform to keep looking for Miles. You stood there for a second, gathering yourself.
Five years. Out the door just like that. It bewildered you how easily a bond like you two had could be broken all because of one teenager. You began to make your way for the door before you said. “When this is all over…don’t try to find me.” He didn’t respond. Once the elevator doors opened, you rushed inside, desperate to get away from him. So many thoughts rushed through your head as the doors closed and you sunk down back to the lobby to leave. You didn’t have much of a plan. This could end up being a horrible idea. Your gut told you it was the right thing to do though. And that was enough for you. You walked out of the headquarters lobby with a new heart and a new mind, ready to take action for your new plan.
First though, you had to find Gwen.
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a/n: god that took longer than it should've. dw dw i'll do a part 2 if enough people ask for one. im not 100% sure how im gonna do a part 2 cause yk....idk how beyond the spiderverse is gonna go so tbh, we're just gonna make it go the way i want lmao. thanks for reading, ik this was kind of a long one lmao
NEXT CHAPTER
5K notes · View notes
thvhoe · 1 year
Text
In The Seom: Love For Dummies | JJK
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Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Female Reader
Genre: Camping AU, FwB To Lovers, College AU, smut, fluff, angst
Word count: 21k
Warnings: Shower sex, casual hookups, alcohol consumption, smoking, Jungkook hits a guy like once, toxic Jungkook if you squint
Synopsis:
Always the friend, never the girlfriend.
Jeon Jungkook doesn't date. At least that's what he thought until he met you, a chemistry student who seemed to have it all—except for love. Meeting at a mutual friends frat party, you hit it off right away. However, due to both of your stubbornness, it has never progressed beyond being friends with benefits.
The annual camping trip with your friend group was supposed to be the turning point in your relationship with Jungkook. But what happens when your best friend of 18 years unexpectedly comes back from Busan and confesses to you, further complicating matters?
A/n: Not gonna lie I've had the idea for this fic for sooo long now and I finally decided to sit down and write it. I think it turned out great with just the right amount of comedy, Angst and smut. Enjoy!
"Oh my god, Jungkook!" You moan as he forced you down onto his dick while you ride him.
With the way he pounds you, his dick leaves you whining. One of his big tattooed hands fondled with your tit as the other manages to sneak around your belly to push you against him even more. The mirror in front of you did wonders to showcase the unholy position you two were in right now; you riding Jungkooks cock, your back facing him as he watched your tits bounce up and down.
"Fuck yeah, like this princess?" He moans, making sure to rub your clit a few times. Nodding you throw your head back against his broad chest—He'd been working out more lately, having taken on extra boxing classes.
"I wanna cum" you whine, pushing against him in an attempt to get him closer too. "Me too-fuck" he swears when you reach down to fondle his balls. "Baby- princess I'm gonna-"
"Me too, baby, me too," you whine and soon find yourself coming all over his dick as he fills the condom.
"That was great," Jungkook comments as he walks out of your bathroom in only his boxershorts.
You smile at him and motion for him to join you in bed, the ungodly hour—2 am.— making you extra tired. "Next time you're horny wait 'till the next day, please," you whimper against his chest as he draws circles on your back. "You and me both know that's not gonna happen." Jungkook laughs, and that's the last thing you hear before falling asleep on his chest.
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You and Jungkook weren't exactly dating by any means—It was more of a situationship at most.
You'd met him 4 months ago at a frat party—very original I know—due to your mutual friend Taehyung. The two of you just clicked and became friends almost immediately.
Kook majored in photography, whereas you studied chemistry. With the exception of Taehyung, who majored in art and spent the majority of his free time painting in the studio, your schedules were quite similar. You were all always available at the same time.
Jungkook and you simply happened to be lonely and drawn to one another, and soon enough, the two of you started hanging out and fooling around.
This 'situationship' as you liked to call it, has been going on for the fast 2 months; you were invited to a party? Jungkook was your plus one. Bored out of your mind on a Friday afternoon? Jungkook was the first you'd call. Hungry but too lazy to make food? Jungkook always had leftovers.
Naturally, someone will always start developing feelings when spending a lot of time with another person. In this instance, it was Jungkook who'd—while high and talking to his best friend Taehyung—had oddly confessed how he felt;
"I don't know, man, usually I'm not the type to buy flowers and shit y'know? I like to keep it lowkey—invite the girl for lunch every other week or so after fucking. But with Y/n, I just feel like I need to give her presents the whole time, like, last week when we were hanging out, she brought me muffins dude— muffins." Jungkook moaned in frustration. "I don't eat sugary shit like that. My trainer says it's bad for building muscle and all. But damn, when I tell you, I ate all of them in one sitting just cause they reminded me of her."
"So you like Y/n?" Taehyung just asks, laying on the ground, not really paying attention to his friend who was for the first time ever, confessing that he had feelings for a girl.
Rolling his eyes Jungkook shakes his head "didn't you fucking listen to- ugh fuck it yeah I probably do"
"Well, then you should tell her" Tae shrugs, taking another drag and turning off his phone finally paying attention to his friend.
"I'm not gonna fucking tell her, she's gonna reject me, we said from the beginning that it's just sex" Kook throws his head back in frustration "and it was me who proposed that too"
"You're an idiot for that, Y/n is kind, smart and fuck, she's hot. Honestly, if I weren't dating Jihyo, I would've made a move ages ago".
Raising a brow, Jungkook finishes his joint and throws it away, sitting up. "Don't we have our annual camping trip in 2 weeks? Maybe I'll pull some romantic shit like a picnic or something and ask her out? you think she'd be into that?" Jungkook wonders out loud.
"Go for it"
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
"Morning, sweatpea," Jennie chuckles as she ruffles your hair, waking you up from your wonderful slumber. "What time is it?" You groan, trying to locate your phone without opening your eyes. You struggle for a second before finding it. 8:30. You groan. "Why are you waking me up at this hour? We're supposed to be on break," sitting up, you whine, and try to fix your hair.
Jennie shakes her head disapprovingly, "Girl, we have to pack! We're leaving tomorrow already." Taking your hand, she makes you stand up. You groan again, accepting your faith. "Right, I forgot," your belly grumbles right after you say that, making you move out of your room with your best friend right behind you. "I need a coffee first, then we can start packing."
The time of year had finally arrived when you and your group of friends—Jennie, Taehyung, Jihyo, Namjoon, and You—would rent a cabin in the woods and spend a full month there. The tradition started almost 4 years ago when you guys got drunk as hell and randomly booked the trip one night.
Taehyung suggested that Jungkook join you guys this time, and he did so for the first time. Because she is studying abroad for this semester, Namjoon wasn't bringing his girlfriend this year, so you invited your other best friend Jisung to attend for the first time as well instead.
"Is Jisung coming with us in the car, or is he driving himself?" Jennie asks as the both of you sit in front of your luggage and pack. You shrug. "I think he's coming 1 day later than the rest of us," you state, remembering him telling you a few days ago when you were on the phone.
Jisung and you have known each other for at least 18 years now. He was 1 year older than you, making him 22. Sadly, he visited another university, meaning that the two of you didn't get to hang out as much as you wanted to anymore.
"Can't wait to finally meet my competitor," Jennie chuckles. She's being on and on about having to compete for spot number one best friend with him. And even though you know it's a joke, she still seems pretty serious about it at times.
You shake your head laughing "I hope you guys don't actually start a competition when we're at the cabin"
"It would be kinda funny though, just imagine us doing races and shit." Jennie laughs out loud.
"It would be"
Even though you two had only just met when you moved to Seoul two years prior, you two had already developed a stronger bond than two magnets. And ultimately moving in together.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
Pookie🩶: Can't sleep. Send me a pic of your boobies?
With a silent ping, your phone lights up, showing a message from Jungkook.
You: 🫣
You: can't, I'm already in bed, nervy for tomorrow
Sighing, you turn around onto your back in your bed, rubbing one eye as tiredness takes over your body. It was almost midnight.
Pookie🩶: how come? Nervous to see me?😎
You: in your dreams koo
Pookie🩶: what's up then? You scared of bears?
Laughing, you shake your head at Jungkooks attempts to distract you.
You: I'm seeing Jisung again for the first time since he left for Uni
Pookie🩶: Jisung?
You: Yeah, my best friend, I vividly remember telling you last week
Pookie🩶: Oh, you mean that childhood best friend of yours
You:🤨
You: are you jealous Kook?🙃
Read
Asshole.
When it came to texting back Jungkook was the worst, he'd always pull excuses like; "oh I fell asleep" or "I had class"
You're sorta thankful anyway, since it was late and you really needed to catch some sleep before waking up at 5 am. Tomorrow morning to start the 2 hour road trip to the cabin.
"Y/n did you see my hair dryer?" Jennie yells from her bedroom as you pack the last few things like your hairbrush and toothbrush into your etui. "No, but you can use mine if you end up not finding it fast enough" you yell back, standing up and brushing your clothes clean before grabbing the handle of your luggage and bringing it outside to where the car was already waiting for you.
Namjoon—gotta love him for this— had managed to rent a minivan that fit all of you plus your suitcases inside.
"Hey guys," you greet Namjoon and Taehyung, who were waiting outside the car for you and Jennie. "Where's Jungkook?" Turning, you look around for the boy only to be met with anything but him.
"He slept in, should be coming in a few minutes though," Taehyung informs you, making you shake your head. Of course, Jungkook, out of all people, had slept in. This was not surprising at all.
"Looking for me?" You feel two strong arms hug you from behind as Jungkook kisses your cheek. "You're late, sailor," you joke, returning his hug and ruffling his hair much to his dislike. "You're lucky you're cute" he frowns making sure his hair is back to normal after ruffling through it a few times.
"You're lucky I even let you come on this trip after sleeping in." You cross your arms.
Jungkook was about to respond when he was interrupted by your best friend.
"Ready to go?" Jennie asks as she walks out to the parking lot with not 1 or 2 but 3 suitcases. "You've got to be kidding me?" You laugh out loud at your roommate. "What?" Jennie asks. "One is for my shirts, one if for my pants and one is for my shoes," she reasons, telling Namjoon to help her get the luggage inside the car.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
"-Oh my, oh my God 예상했어 나 I was really hoping that he will come through Oh my, oh my God 단 너뿐이야 Asking all the time about what I should do-" the car is filled with joy as you all sing along to New Jeans' new song.
Soon enough, one hour had already passed, and you were halfway to your destination. When Jennie suddenly turns off the music making all of you whine in union.
"Jennie, what the -" Taehyung complains, but Jennie interrupts him. "I have to pee, let's stop somewhere"
"Can't you wait another hour?" Namjoon rolls his eyes, squeezing the steering wheel in annoyance.
Jennie had been trying to catch up on sleep for the first 20 minutes of the ride, only to be disturbed by you guys' singing. And she'd been complaining ever since. For you, it's funny how dramatic she can get at times.
"Guys I have to go too" you speak up, "and we ran out of snacks 30 minutes ago,".
"Fine let's make a stop at the next Gas Station, but don't take too long, I really fucking hate driving with an entire choir of people in the backseat, I want to get there already" Namjoon says as he eyes You, Taehyung and Jungkook who just laugh.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
"I can't decide between these two," you pout, pointing at the skittles and kitkats and sighing. "Just get them both," Jennie shrugs as she herself gets some chocolate cookies. "No, they're always so expensive at gas stations." You continue whining until eventually Jungkook comes up behind you and grabs both packs of candy and your hand walking to the cashier and paying. Blushing, you thank him and intertwine your hand in his as the both of you walk to the car and have a little moment to yourselves before everyone comes back.
"How are you liking it so far?" You quietly ask Jungkook as you nibble at your chocolate bar. He let's out a chuckle, placing your hair behind your ear as he looks at your with endearment. "You mean the 1 hour we've been singing karaoke in the car?"
Hitting his chest, you huff. "You know what I mean!"
"Just wait until Taehyung puts on Celine Dion" you joke
Jungkook just nods and keeps you close to him as he seemingly stops to think about your question.
"I like spending time with you," he speaks up eventually, closing the little distance between you two and pecking your lips shortly after. His hand reaching to stroke your blushing cheek.
Every day, it felt like you and Jungkook were getting closer. You did things that couples do, such as kissing casually or spending time together without it having to end in sex. However, the fact that he hasn't asked you out yet has left you perplexed; if you two liked each other so much, why didn't he take the next step and ask you to be his girlfriend?
You talked about this with Jennie plenty of times already. You really wanted to have your cinderella moment and have Jungkook do the talking while you listened and eventually agreed to be his.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
"Were here, children," Namjoon sighs as he walks out the minivan and immediately goes to his phone, calling his girlfriend—They were a cute couple, having been dating for almost 2 years now, the two of them were inseparable until she moved to Australia for 6 months. It took Joon some time to get used to not seeing Sana every day, but eventually, with facetime and the occasional visit, everything seemed to work out just fine between the two.
You were envious of just how effortlessly they carried their relationship. There was no pressure to get married yet, eventhough both of them were already in their mid 20's.
"I'm getting the bigger room cause I organised the trip." Taehyung speaks up suddenly, bringing you out of your thoughts as you help Jungkook take the luggage out of the car.
"What? No! Jennie and me were the ones that booked the cabin!" You protest crossing your arms.
Hearing Jungkook laugh beside should you send him a glare.
"Wait -" Namjoon crosses his arms as he walks closer to you guys.
"I was the one to rent the minivan that even caused all of us to be here in the first place"
"Good point" Taehyung agrees making you even more confused.
"That's a stupid point." Looking at Jennie, she nods. "So stupid." she agrees, rolling her eyes but not really caring anyway.
"Taehyung, you're one person. The ones who deserve the big room are me and Jungkook," you argue
Taehyung seemed to think of a way to argue back, but when he realizes that yes, you were right, he dismisses you with a simple "fine" making you jump up and down happily
You get a call from Jisung shortly after putting your belongings in the closet, somewhat embarrassed by how much you'd actually taken with you on this trip, leaving Jungkook with almost no space at all.
But he'd assured you that everything was fine and that he'd figure out a way to deal with it. After all, you were no better than Jennie.
"Hi, Jisung!" You almost squeak seeing your best friend, even though over the phone, for the first time in weeks. "How are things going, Y/n-ie? Did you arrive safely?" Jisung inquires from the other end of the phone. Nodding, you take a sip of water and settle into your bed as you watch Jungkook exit the bathroom that was connected to the room. With a small wave of your hand at him, you return to your phone. "Everything went off without a hitch! You should've been there! We sang the entire ride here; you would have loved it!"
"I'm sure of it, sorry again, but uni has been kicking my ass," he says, but you dismiss him almost immediately. "It's okay, it's only one day! I think we'll just have an early dinner and then go to bed because today was pretty stressful - "As you speak, you look at Jungkook. "Someone, I won't name names, slept in, and forced us to leave later than planned."
Jungkook crosses his arms at that, raising a brow. "Who are you talking to?" He asks, even though he knew it was Jisung he wanted to make sure. "Jisung" you prove him right by answering, looking back at your phone you laugh at something he said.
Jungkook simply rolls his eyes and settles beside you, having changed into more comfortable and clean clothing. He then pulls you onto his lap and rests his head on your shoulder, just to set some boundaries for your best friend. "Oh, see-" You raise your phone to Jungkook, "this is Jungkook."
Jungkook just nods his head towards Jisung completely ignoring his friendly "Hello" and how are you?".
It was safe to say that Jungkook was already pissed off at the fact that another guy had your full attention.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
You decided to take a small nap after you were done talking to Jisung, placing the covers over your body you inched even closer to Jungkook and closed your eyes.
"Tired? Mh?" He asks as he turn off his phone and plays with your hair as you just hum. "It's so cold here compared to Seoul" you whine, hugging the cover closer to your body.
"I know a way to warm you up that's always worked." Jungkooks voice was quiet but malicious, a smirk forming on his face. "Oh yeah? What's that?" You tease him, sitting up a bit and looking up at him with your cute puppy eyes. Taking your chin in his hand, he places a small kiss on your lips before answering, "I think you know".
His hand wanders to your ass, giving it a small squeeze as you moan in return. "Kook.."
"What do you want, huh?" He asks teasingly, playing with the hem of your shorts, tugging for you to take them off. "Want me to make you feel good?"
"I always want you to make me feel good, Kook," you say, kissing his neck and leaving a bruise here and there. He enjoys when you do that, he loves showing off that he's—although not officially—taken.
His hands roamed your body, and before you know it, the both of you are lying next to each other, naked.
His fingers pump in and out of you at a nice slow pace, just how he learned you like it. "You look so good like this," he moans, referring to your body that lays on top of his with your legs spread wide open for him. Anyone could walk in on you guys and see your pussy in all its glory at any moment. But you didn't care. It just felt so good.
"Take these off." Referring to his pants, you tug them down as much as you can, pulling them down just under his balls and taking hold of his hard dick. "You're so big, Jungkook," you breathe out, licking his tip down to his shaft. "Fuck, just how you like it huh?" He continues the dirty talk, loving the way your tongue makes hin feel like he's in heaven. "Suck on it, princess"
You don't hesitate to do as he says as you make an effort to choke on it a little. So much to taking a small nap before dinner.
"Fuck, damn-" Jungkook mutters under his breath, his hand guiding you up and down in nice swift motions. The sounds of your gagging almost make him nut just then.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
Jisung😼: I'm 30 minutes away
You: omggg okay wait I'll prepare you some food for when you arrive
Placing down your phone, you run over to the kitchen and start preparing some lunch for Jisung to enjoy later when he arrives. To say you were excited to see your best friend after nearly a year was an understatement. You talked almost every day, sure, but it didn't compare to actually seeing each other.
Jisung😼: you're a Saint. I love you
I love you
Jungkook grimaces as he reads the message, he didn't necessarily mean to peak, but the message had just appeared when he sat down for lunch as well.
"What are ya making?" He asks as he watches you scramble around the kitchen
"Just some sandwiches for when Jisung arrives, he's had a pretty horrible taxi drive here" you start
"You want some too?" You ask as you turn around to a pouting Jungkook who just nods.
"Fine, I'll make you some, you big baby." You tease him, earning a slap on your butt when he was suddenly standing behind you.
"Can you believe they charged him 150$ for a 30-minute drive?" You say shaking your head as you cut some lettuce. Jungkook didn't care how much Jisung paid to get here, and to be completely honest, he'd probably pay 150$ for him to just leave.
Somehow, the feeling of having a guy close to you made him.. jealous. He felt as if your attention was not going to be on him 24/7 like he's used to.
Namjoon and Taehyung were eating their lunch outside at the lake, while Jennie was still fast asleep in her room, most likely from talking to her sister all night.
"Put extra cheese on mine, please," Jungkook mumbles as his strong arms encircle your waist, placing his head on your shoulder like he always did, watching you prepare the food.
Humming a random tune to yourself, you finish up the food and place Jisungs into the fridge, giving Jungkook his right away.
"Are you not gonna eat?" He asks when he notices your lack of food. You shake your head. "I'm too nervous," you say, shaking your hands showing just how excited you really were.
Jungkook rolls his eyes internally, grabbing one half of his food and handing it to you "Eat, I don't like when you miss meals"
"Jungkook don't worry, I'll eat when-"
Ding dong
"Oh my god," you jump up, running to the door, opening it almost immediately as you're met with your best friend.
"He-"
"Jisung!" You yell, jumping into his arms, making him drop his bags and hug you back laughing. "What's up Y/n, missed you"
"Are you kidding me? I missed you even more!" You say this while looking at him excitedly. "You look great; have you started going to the gym? You've definitely gotten buffer ". That's when Jungkook had enough as he stood up and left to your room; no one else was allowed to be complimented on their muscles by you except for him.
"Wait until I tell you the shit I had to go through until I finally got here" Jisung groans annoyed as he finally let's go of your waist, walking into the house a bit more, looking around. "Damn, this place is huge. When you said cabin, I pictured a small cute house in the woods," he laughs. Hitting his chest, you cover your mouth giggling. "Well, it has to fit 6 people in it." Shrugging, you hush him over to the table where you thought Jungkook was still sitting.
"Im so excited for you two to finally meet I-" turning you see-.. no one?
"I could swear Jungkook was here like 5 minutes ago," you mumble under your breath, not letting the thought hinder you from enjoying the fact that your childhood best friend was standing in front of you.
"It's fine, I guess you two can meet each other later. Let me get your food. You can go set your luggage in the first room to the right!" You smile as you walk into the kitchen and open the fridge.
"Oh Jungkook, there you are." You jump in surprise when you turn to see him sitting at the small table inside the kitchen eating his food. "I thought you disappeared on me for a second." Laughing, you lean over him and kiss his cheek after setting the plate with Jisungs food down next to him.
"Nope, I'm right here, didn't wanna interrupt your little moment" he huffs, taking the last bite of his sandwich and taking a sip of water as he leans back into your touch, not being able to stay 'mad' at you for too long.
"Don't be ridiculous, I want you guys to meet!" You grin happily about to give him a small peck on the lips when someone clears their throat at the entrance of the kitchen.
With a small wave, Jisung makes his presence clear. "What's up, dude? I'm Jisung. It's nice to finally meet the guy who makes my best friend ignore me for says straight. " he obviously jokes, not earning a single laugh from Jungkook, though. Hitting his shoulder, you glare at him before laughing. "He's shy,".
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
"And this is mine and Jungkook's room, we haven't really been able to do more than just put our clothes in the closet, but at least that means that it's not messy just yet" leaning against your doorframe you giggle. "Well that's it, it's honestly not that big when you think about it"
"It's pretty big y/n. You and Jennie did a great job," Jisung compliments.
"So you and Jungkook.." Jisung speaks up after a second, "are you two together?" He awkwardly asks, making you bite your lip nervously. "Um.. Well, we're not together, but.." You start, sitting down on your bed. "I really like him, you know?" Looking up at him, you wait for his response.
Completely disregarding what you'd just told him, his brows rise when he realizes something, "I actually brought you a present from back in Busan." he blushes a bit, but you fail to notice. "You did?" Placing your hands behind your back, you raise your brows. "Well...? What is it?"
"Right-!" Jisung jumps into action as you follow him close behind to his room.
"I don't know it just made me think of you." He scratches the back of his head after he hands you a cute blue bracelet. Looking down, you grin. "It's so nice, I love it." You thank him, hugging him tightly. "I really missed you"
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
"Bitch this is so real" Jennie comments as the both of you are chilling on the couch, watching a random 2000's movie, eating some popcorn. "I'm not even paying attention anymore at this point," you chuckle, earning a loving hit from her. Looking down on your phone at the picture Jungkook had just sent you, you smile. All of the guys were currently down at the lake, drinking a few bottles of beer and swimming. While the thought of going for a swim in the lake sounded very much appealing to you, you preferred staying in the warm cabin with Jennie, binge-watching all of Netflix.
Pookie🩶: *attached picture*
Pookie🩶: are you girls coming down here anytime soon? we still have a few beers left.
You: 🥶
Pookie🩶: Get one of my sweaters and come down here, we made a bonfire, and everything
You stop to think for a second, wearing one of Jungkooks sweaters—that smelled like heaven by the way—and cuddling with him by a bonfire? You're sold.
Looking over at Jennie, she's already giving you a look. "Fine, you wanna go and hang out with your man instead of spending quality time with your best friend? Go for it." The sarcasm in her voice was clear, and after just looking at one another for a second, you two burst out laughing. "I'm just kidding, I think I'm gonna call it a night. You have fun, though." Blowing loving kisses at her, you make your way upstairs to your room, grabbing Jungkooks Balenciaga hoodie that he wore earlier and making your way down to the lake with a smile on your face.
"Hey boys," you wave as you walk towards them, hugging your arms around yourself. Even though Jungkooks sweater was helping with the cold, it was still freezing outside. "Princess," Jungkook calls, waving you over to him. "You look cute"
"So what did you guys do all alone?" Taehyung asks, taking a drag of his cig and blowing the smoke out with ease. You shrug. "Nothing illegal," you joke, leaning against Jungkook and closing your eyes for a second. "Just watched some movies, ate popcorn that was probably expired"
The whole round laughs as the music they put on faded to the background.
"You should watch the new show that just came out, what's it called..." Jisung speaks up, thinking for a second before continuing. "The Glory."
Your eyes light up at the mention of the show, turning to Jungkook, you smile. "Yeah, Jungkook and I started watching it like last week. It's so good." You nod, playing with Jungkook's larger hand as you discuss the show with Jisung.
Jungkook was filled with pride when you mentioned watching the show with him; something about the memory from last week—you cuddling up to him in only his shirt as you began watching the first few episodes—made his heart skip a beat.
"...yeah I really do hope they make a season 2" your voice breaks him out of his daydream, his hand wandering to your stomach and pulling you closer to him, noticing that you in fact are very cold.
"We should call it a night," he whispered into your ear, patting your hip to get up. Yawning, you nod, agreeing with him and standing up.
"Night, see ya tomorrow, I heard it's supposed to get pretty hot" Jisungs calls after you guys, making you yell out in excitement.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
"Good morningggg" you singsong, walking into the kitchen the next morning. Jennie and Jisung sat at the counter, talking about whatever. "Morning," Jennie greets you, sliding a bowl of yoghurt with fruit towards you. Thanking her, you sit down next to Jisung, stealing one of his blueberries and poking your tongue at him in amusement. "So where are the others?" You query, getting up again after eating a few spoonfuls, and making yourself a coffee.
"I think Namjoon and Jungkook are in the gym downstairs, and Taehyungs still asleep. He facetimed Jihyo all night doing god knows what" Jennie rolls her eyes, already regretting choosing the room beside him.
"So Jisung, be honest." Jennie starts, and looking back at her, you can see she's about to ask something dramatic. "How do you like the guys? Cause I can totally understand if you hate either Taehyung or Jungkook, those two stoners -" "Jennie," you stop her from finishing her sentence as you give her a look of disapproval.
Shrugging, she just takes another mouthful of her food. "I know what I'm talking about, Are you blind or do you not see the way Jungkook literally bores daggers into Jisungs back every time he gets remotely close to you"
Sighing, you take a sip of your freshly brewed coffee. "First of all," you look at Jisung, "that's just how Jungkook looks at literally everyone." You smile, really not wanting your best friend to get the wrong impression of your boyf- of Jungkook. "wrong," Jennie interrups you. "He looks at me or Namjoon just fine when we're with you"
"That's cause..." You want to argue but can't find a reason as to why Jungkook looks at Jisung the way he does. "It's cause he doesn't know him. He doesn't trust easily," you brush her comment of by saying. Jennie just rolls her eyes and winks at Jisung, who visibly blushes, ugh Jennie and her charms.
"What's up? What's up?" Taehyungs voice fills the silent kitchen, drawing a smile to your face. "You want breakfast? I think I'm gonna make some protein pancakes for Jungkook," you smile "a-and Namjoon." You correct yourself. "Jungkook and Namjoon."
Taehyung raises a brow at you but nods, grabbing your mug of coffee and sipping from it "hey-"
"Helloooo" Namjoon is the next to enter the kitchen, making you wonder where Jungkook went off to.
"Hey Joon," Jennie and Taehyung say at the same time. "God, are you making pancakes? Can I have some, too?" Namjoon makes his way over to you, looking over your shoulder at the pancake batter almost salivating. "I'm making them for you guys, actually! You gym rats need the calories, right? Oh, and Taehyung also wanted some. " You shrug, laughing when Taehyung sends a frown your way. "If you must know, I am very comfortable in my body" ,"and that's great, sweetie." Jennie sarcastically comforts the older.
The whole kitchen laughs out loud, already starting the day with such a good vibe.
"Y/n," Jisung comes up behind you leaning against the counter so he could talk to you one on one as the others ate their—beforehand your—breakfast.
"Shoot," you answer him, flipping over pancakes. "So since the weather is nice today, I was thinking we could go out and swim while the sun is still hitting the lake?" Jisung proposes making you gasp excitedly. "Yes, we should all have lunch by the lake today and swim!" You agree with him earning a small cheer by the peers behind you.
Jisung clears his throat, though, seemingly something was wrong. Raising a brow, you look at him questionably "what wrong? You don't want to anymore?"
He shakes his head though, "No, but I was thinking we could just go as the two of us, you know? Like old times when we used to go to the outdoor pools?"
"Oh," you let out a surprised comment. "I mean,-"
"Morning," says a low, raspy voice, and when you turn around, you see Jungkook entering the kitchen area, his eyes searching for you.
"Good Morning" you respond amongs the others
Jungkooks face lights up when he sees you. His hair was wet, so he must have taken a shower after the gym, which explains why Joon arrived before him.
You return your attention to your friend and resume your conversation with him. "So you were saying?". "Right," Jisung clears his throat and prepares to speak to you when Jungkook interrupts him once more. "Good morning, princess," his arms circle around you as if it were second nature, his head resting on top of yours. Before turning to see what you were making, he gave Jisung, who was much smaller, a glare.
"Jisung?" You ask again only to receive a "nevermind" as he leaves.
"Kook," you whine, knowing the reason your friend left was because of him.
Jungkook just ignores your complaints, though, as he leans down to peck your lips. "What ya makin'?" He wonders out loud,
"Protein pancakes for the big boys" you joke, referring to him and Namjoon.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
Later that day, you all find yourselves at the lake, the sun was shining, and there were no clouds appearing anytime soon. In comparison to yesterday, this was literal heaven.
"Y/n-ie, go stand by the water. I wanna take a picture," Jennie yells from behind, making you groan. "This is the last time. You've asked me like 15 times already."
"It's cause you're hot," she says, winking, quickly snapping a picture of you.
"She's not wrong" Jisung says from besides you, teasingly pocking your side. "Underwater breathing contest?" He asks in a challenging tone. "On the count of three" you agree.
"1...2...3!" And with a quick motion, you're underwater, eyes open and making funny faces at one another. About 20 seconds later you both go up for air "that was so" you start, stopping to catch your breath "that was so unfair of you" you whine, getting out the water and dringend yourself off. "I would've totally won if you didn't pull that face"
"Look at them." Jungkook nods towards you and Jisung, crossing his arms, his muscles appearing more toned than ever. "What? They seem to be having a good time." Namjoon just shrugs, pulling out the meat for the bbq later. "You should be having a good time as well. What's the point of pursuing Y/n if you're not even spending time with her? ". Jungkook cracks his knuckles as he looks at Namjoon. "I hate that guy." Namjoon comes to a halt for a split second, looking annoyed at Jungkook. "Do you even care what I have to say?"
"I do hyung, but just- fuck, look at them, they're acting all couple-like and shit" pressing his tongue against his cheek he finally looks away and helps his friend.
"Well, you're not her boyfriend, so she is perfectly capable of doing whatever she wants." Hearing Namjoon say this makes Jungkooks blood boil. It was his fault that you guys weren't dating yet. He knew that. When you first started hooking up, he'd set clear boundaries. Ones that he's now slowly breaking.
"My plan is to ask her out on the trip, I just haven't found the right moment yet," the younger shrugs as he places a piece of meat on the grill. "What do I even say?, I mean technically we act as if we're dating; we kiss, we fuck, we hang out, we talk about our feelings." Jungkook sighs, "I shouldn't even have to ask her out In the first place, were not 14, were adults. But Y/n is into all that romance shit and I want to make her happy"
"I asked Sana to be my girlfriend, and that was only 2 years ago, we weren't teens either." Namjoon starts speaking again, trying to speak some sense into Jungkook. "What I'm saying is that asking people to be their boyfriend/girlfriend is totally normal. Just because you think it's cringe doesn't mean that everyone else does."
"Jungkook, Joonie! There you are!" You say approaching the two boys as they prepare the barbecue. The only thing covering you was the skimpy baby blue bikini Jennie had convinced you to wear. In her words, it would make Jungkook ask you out even sooner. Sure, what she said made no sense at all, but the bikini is cute, so might as well.
"Jennie, Jisung, and I wanted to play some music, Taehyung said you had the loudspeaker?," you ask, looking at Namjoon with big expecting eyes. "Sure, I think it's in my room. Just go in and get it, " Namjoon tells you, placing another piece of meat on the grill. "Okay!" Walking into the cabin, you notice Jungkook follow you, turning you smile at him."You don't wanna go swim?"
"Might go later, I promised to help Joon with the food," you hum in acknowledgement before grabbing the speaker and turning to him. "We should all play some volleyball later, Jisung Brough a ball and net," you propose to him, grabbing his hand to head back to the others. "Whatever you want, princess." Jungkook laughs, shaking his head when you jokingly hit his chest and pout. "It'll be fun!"
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
"Kids, foods ready!" Namjoon yells from the picnic table outside, placing the different kinds of food down on it. "Looks great, Joon," you compliment, sitting down beside Jungkook and already putting food on his plate. "Thanks, jagi." The nickname just kind of slipped out of him, the situation just feeling way too domestic.
"Y/n, pass me the salad, please," Jennie yells from other side of the table, your hand immediately reaching for the food and passing it to her. "The foods great Namjoon," Taehyung compliments, immediately digging into his meat, making everyone laugh.
"We should all definitely play some volleyball tomorrow. We should make use of the great weather," Jisung suggests, making everyone nod in agreement, even Jungkook.
Later that evening, Taehyung and Namjoon decided to go back into their rooms and call their girlfriends. While Jennie had already taken a shower and was now watching a movie on the big TV in the living room, you had just finished up doing the dishes with Jungkook. "I should take a shower too, I feel like I have sand everywhere." You laugh as you dry your hands. "I'll join you," he winks, grabbing you by the waist and leaning in for a kiss, but you teasingly lean away, running upstairs.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
"Fuck Jungkook" you moan, his dick sliding in and out of you with ease as he holds you up against the shower wall. "Fuck you feel so good princess". His hands held you by the ass, head leaning down to your neck leaving hickeys and love bites all over it.
"Look at how pretty you are." Although Jungkook's words are adorable, you couldn't manage to mumble a thank you. The way his hips were rutting against you made you dumb. One could say you're cute, sure. But You were never one that tried to be overly sexy.
"Aren't you so good at this, baby?" You hum in acknowledgement, trying your best to fuck him back in this position. gaining self-confidence, you manage to change the position from getting fucked against the shower wall with your legs around his waist to your tits touching the cold wall and Jungkook taking you from behind. His tattooed hand holding you hip still while the other landed a few slaps on your ass.
"You like this?" He asks, laughing, flashing one of his toothy smiles.
You could swear this man is a demon of some sort, by the way his dick is jackhammering into you right now.
Mumbling a small "I'm gonna cum" you turn to see him form a small smirk at corner of his mouth. The small metal ring around his lips stands out to you as he licks his lips, his hips somehow managing to fuck you harder.
"Oh- fuck," he grunts, hips losing any kind of rhythm, as he himself gets closer to his release. His hips are practically right against your ass, giving him no more space to push in further.
The filthy words that come put of your mouth as you reach your orgasm seemed to make him go crazy by the way he was now holding you right up against his ripped chest and playing with your tits.
Jungkook locks eyes with you, parted lips letting out moans as he cums in you.
Brushing your hair back, you smile at Jungkook through the bathroom mirror, blushing cheeks, turning even redder when he walks up behind you, pecking the side of your lip. "What's that?" he suddenly asks, referring to the bracelet that adorned your left wrist. "Oh, this?" Looking down at the bracelet Jisung gave you 2 days ago, you smile. "Jisung gave it to me when he arrived, said it reminded him of me," you tell him, not really making a big deal of it.
Poking the inside of his cheek, Jungkook looks irritated, his hand on your waist tightening out of reflex. "Did he now?" cocking his head making eyecontact with you in the mirror. "Pretty little thing," he mumbles mindlessly playing with it.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
"Jungkook, it's just a bracelet," Taehyung groans, rolling his eyes, his head hitting the pillow on his bed.
Jungkook had gone to complain to Taehyung after you two finished your shower. "I'll be right back," he'd told you. Now, it had already been 30 minutes since he left, and you were starting to get a bit confused. You initially thought that he was getting some water or just forgot something downstairs.
"Are you blind or are you acting stupid on purpose, hyung?" Jungkook moans and puts his head in his hands. "It's obvious that Jisung likes her."
"I don't trust the guy" Jungkook speaks up right after, "he keeps wanting to be alone with her"
"Of course he does. They haven't seen each other in ages." Taehyung tries to reason. "Why are you even jealous? You know how easy it would be if you just asked y/n out?" With an annoyed sigh, Taehyung sits up again, grabbing his phone and tapping the screen. "It's late. Get out. Jihyo is supposed to call me right about now"
"What? How would it make it any simpler? He would continue to make an effort to be close to her," Jungkook adds as he gets up and moves toward the door. "But at least you'd have a good reason for behaving like a total dick toward him."
"Fuck off" Jungkook mumbles before leaving Taehyungs room
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
You put on your headphones and begin listening to your favourite music as you go onto the treadmill. It was precisely 7 a.m., which was early, given that you were on vacation. Somehow, you couldn't fall back asleep after waking up at around 6, so you decided to be productive and work out a bit before starting to prepare breakfast for everyone because. Why not? You had the time to do so.
You supposed everyone was still asleep given that the lights were still turned off when you walked downstairs. The small gym being situated in the basement of the house, meaning that you had to walk down a flight of stairs that seemed like it needed some renovation.
"...oh say it ditto..." You singsong as you walk at a normal speed on the treadmill. Jungkook, being the gym bunny that he was, had taught you to always start your workouts lighty, so that's what you were doing. It was honestly a blessing to have Jungkook in your life. Besides the obvious, he was a great gym partner. Sure, you weren't much of a gym rat, but every once in a while, Jungkook managed to convince you to do a few workouts with him.
Due to the loud music playing in your headphones, you didn't notice someone walking into the gym, but when you suddenly look up and see Jisung smile at you, you wave at him turning off your music.
"Morning" you smile, slowing down on the treadmill as you talk over to him. "How'd you sleep?" He asks you, looking at himself in the mirror as he fixes his hair. "I didn't really expect anyone to be here this early"
You laugh "well here I am," shrugging and getting off the treadmill completely to do some stretching. "You're done already?" Jisung laughs, making you blush embarrassed. "You know I quickly I run out of breath"
"I remember." he nods, sitting down beside you to stretch as well. "How are you liking it here so far? Are you getting along with the guys?" You start the conversation again, stretching your legs and groaning in pain, mentally noting to work out a little more in the coming weeks.
"It's great here, I mean, the view is amazing" he answers and you nod agreeing with him "I know, when me and Jennie saw that the house was up for rent we immediately went for it, it's more on the pricier side though"
"Understandable" your friend agrees with you, watching you get up to grab your water and take a few sips. You looked hot in your black leggings and blue sports bra, your boobs looking amazing. Jisung turns his head away before you catch him glaring, clearing his throat.
"So what's on the agenda toda-" Jisung is cut off by the door opening once more, revealing Jungkook. Much to his despair.
"Kook," you run up to him excitedly, hugging a surprised looking Jungkook. "What are you doing here?" He laughs, squeezing your side as he places his small towel and water bottle down on the ground. Scowling, you hit his chest. "Hey! I work out too at times" you whine. Jungkook smiles before his gaze meets Jisung, his smirk immediately dropping.
"I guess we could do a whole workout sesh now," you joke, referring to the three of you. "Jisung, did I ever tell you that Jungkook sometimes gives me free workout lessons?" You brag, wiggling your eyebrows
"Really?" Jisung laughs along with you, "Yeah those are the perks of being friends with someone like him," you joke,
Friends
There it was again, Jungkook thought, that stupid label.
"You wanna work out with me, princess?" Jungkooks asks you teasingly, adding the nickname just to annoy Jisung a tad bit. Smiling, you nod in excitement, already grabbing his hand and leading him closer to the top to bottom mirror. "I already did 30 minutes on the treadmill," you proudly state, earning a smile from Jungkook. "Did you now?"
Nodding, you sit down on the yoga mat, waiting for Jungkook to instruct you.
Meanwhile, Jisung starts on the weights, feeling a judging gaze from the older male as he works out.
"Jungkook, I can't anymore. I'm exhausted," you whine as you hold your form, planking on the ground, sweat dripping off your forehead.
Jungkook taps your shoulder lightly 10 seconds later and you let yourself fall to the ground almost immediately, an exhausted grunt leaving your mouth.
"I hate this," you moan, closing your eyes. "I thought you wanted to work out, huh?" Jungkook keeps teasing you, tickling your side. "Alright then, rest a bit. I'll go get started on the weights." And with that, he stands up and walks over to where Jisung is, grabbing a weight that was double the weight the younger was currently lifting.
"Jisung! Pass me my water, please. " You call out for him, referring to the water that was right besides him. "Go get it yourself lazy" he teases you, earning a warning glare from Jungkook. "Shut up, I can barely move right now" you complain.
Placing down his weights, Jungkook walks over and grabs your water, handing it to you as you thank him.
"I would've brought it to her, you know." Jisung rolls his eyes at the older, only to be met with Jungkooks piercing eyes as he pokes the inside of his cheek. "But you didn't when she asked you to-"
"Okay, boys, let's calm down." You nervously laugh, standing up and heading towards the two of them, "I get that you don't like one another very much, but let's not fight every 2 seconds, yeah?" You sweetly ask them, more for the sake of Taehyung, Jennie, and Namjoon. You knew they wouldn't like the bickering between these two.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
"Anyone who's up to go to the grocery store raise your hand." Namjoon exclaims as he walks into the living room where everyone else was. The silence indicated that nobody really wanted to leave this idyllic home and take a 30-minute journey to the grocery store. Yet it had to be done, there was no other choice, and the supply of food was running low.
"I'll go" Jisung and Jungkook say at the same time, making everyone else stare between the two of them.
"Well?" Namjoon crosses his arms, waiting for one to tap out. "I'll go" Jungkook repeats, already standing up and not even giving Jisung a chance to complain.
Things have been weird between the 3 of you since this morning. Ever since you said that the two of you were just friends, Jungkook has sort of been ignoring you. You know why, of course you do. The two of you liked each other but didn't want to admit to it.
"Damn, way to kill a mood," Jennie mumbles next to you as she mindlessly scrolls on her phone. "I'm sure Jungkook just wants to leave and not have to face you for a while." Taehyung chimes in next to you, making you raise your knees to your chest, hugging them. "I dont know what to do, guys," you mumble, leaning against Jennie. Turning off her phone, she pats your hair. "Admit that you like him." Looking up, you raise a brow at her. "I do like him"
Rolling his eyes, Taehyung speaks, "Not to us, you idiot, tell Jungkook"
Pouting you answer him "Jungkook knows I like him".
"How? Have you told him?" Jennie teases, knowing exactly that you, in fact, didn't.
"It doesn't take much of a brain to notice, I mean-" you scoff "we kiss, we tell each other what's on our mind, we-" you swallow, looking around in case someone was eavesdropping. "-we have sex"
"Y/n, Jungkooks as smart as a rock, if you don't tell him, he won't know" Taehyung shakes his head as he stands up, walking out of the room.
"Hate to admit It, but stoner has a point," Jennie shrugs, making you whine as you walk upstairs into your room and throw yourself on the bed, hugging a pillow in distress.
Is it sad? Sad, that you thought Jungkook was going to use this trip as a way to get even closer to you. To finally gather the courage to ask you out?
Another whine left your lips, the pressure of it all, being too much for your body and mind to handle. Thank god Jungkook was leaving for at least 2 or 3 hours, giving you time to think about your relationship, or lack thereof, and maybe even take a nice long bath.
Jisung😼: You okay? You've been in your room for quite some time now
You: I'm fine, just taking a really long bath 😴
Jisung😼: do you mind if we speak after you're done? I have to tell you something
You stop and stare at the screen for a second.
Taking a screenshot, you send it to Jennie, waiting for her to give her 5 cents.
You: *insert photo*
Jennie👩‍❤️‍👩: girl
Jennie👩‍❤️‍👩: he wants you so bad
Jennie👩‍❤️‍👩: Whatever it is that you took for men to want you like this, give it to me
You: Jennie.
Jennie👩‍❤️‍👩: okay what do you want me to say?
Jennie👩‍❤️‍👩; the man's head over heels for you
You: but I'm not, for him at least
Jennie👩‍❤️‍👩: time for you and Jungkook to have the talk then 🤩
You sigh, turning off your phone, re-starting your music, and eventually closing your eyes slightly. You can't help but unwind when you hear lo-fi music and smell the lavender scent of your bath salt. That is, at least, until you hear someone enter your room and disrupt your me-time. Confounded, you turn to check the time, gasping as you realize you've been in the bath for nearly an hour and a half.
It's none other than Jungkook himself, of course. He doesn't come into the bath, but he does knock on the bathroom door lightly, informing you that he's back.
You make an effort to get dry and dressed as quickly as possible to avoid being seen ankes by him. On other occasions you wouldn't mind, you be happy about it to be honest, but right now it's what you needed the least.
"Hey," you mumble as you enter your bedroom and place your phone to charge. You don't dare to make eye contact with him, and as you put on some house shoes to leave the room as fast as you came in, your heart pounds.
"Jisung" you call his name, making him turn around from where he stands on the front porch, probably wanting some time alone.
"You.. wanted to speak to me?" You initiate the conversating, watching as he tenses and clears his throat.
"I- well, yes. Sit down, please?" He asks you, motioning to the empty spot on the couch next to him.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
"...honestly I don't know what I want at this point, I don't know what she wants at this point." Jungkooks voice fills Namjoons ears once again as they both walk down the aisles of the grocery store in the small town.
Cracking his fingers, Namjoon sighs out loud, letting Jungkook know that he's being annoying. "Do you want me to repeat my speech that I give you every time you bring up Y/n?"
Jungkook stops in his tracks as he looks at Namjoon with wide eyes, offended.
"Actually yes, go on"
"Y/n and you like each other, yes or no?"
"Yes." Jungkook states with confidence
"Then why is it," Namjoon rubs his temples with his fingers, casually placing some tomatoes in the cart. "That whenever one of us-" he points at himself but also refers to Jennie and Taehyung. "-Tells you to just get into a relationship"
"You just completely ignore us and go back to just being friends with benefits or whatever shit you've got going on"
"Cause-" Jungkook interrups, crossing his arms and playing with his lip-piercing with his tongue, annoyed.
"I'm not done yet" Namjoon warns the younger, pointing a finger at him
"You're 23 for God's sake, and Y/n-ie is 21, you're not kids anymore"
Namjoons voice is deep, his face showing anything but joy. "What. Do. You. Want.?"
"I don't know what the fuck I want! I want her!" Jungkooks' voice startles the other customers around him, but he doesn't care.
"She's told me before; she wants the guy to ask her out cause she thinks it's romantic and shit. And I get that okay? But whenever I'm about to ask her, you know, let her know she's the one for me." Jungkook grabs a coke and places it in the cart. "I chicken out, it's like- I want to date her, so bad, but I also don't want to commit to a relationship. What if I fuck up?"
"Do you even remotely know how many times I've fucked up with Sana?" Namjoon keeps talking as he helps Jungkook place the items on the checkout conveyor belt.
Jungkook shakes his head, nodding for the older to continue with his pep talk
"Exactly, I fuck up every 2 to 3 work days, but then we talk thing's out, get shit we think off our chests and then everything's back to normal" paying for the groceries Namjoon sighs as they walk out. "What I'm trying to say is; if you're scared to fuck up, don't be, it's normal to argue as a couple"
"Let me ask you this; how many times have you two argued since you started your..." he motions with his hands,"...whatever it is that you've got going on"
Shrugging Jungkook places the grocery bags in the car, "I don't know, maybe 2 or 3 times"
"See, you two obviously like each other, and you obviously make a good fit." Namjoon ends his speech. "You're young, just fucking go for it."
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
Walking into your shared room, Jungkook notices the music coming from the bathroom, he recognises that it's your 'Lo-Fi Bath' playlist almost immediately, smiling to himself happy that you're taking time to relax. After the talk with Namjoon earlier, he's pretty sure of what he wants now, and what he wants is you.
With a small knock on the bathroom door, he lets you know he's back from the store. When Jungkook doesn't hear an answer, he assumes you either didn't hear or are purposely ignoring him like he did to you all morning and afternoon. Fair enough
Taking off his clothes, Jungkook changes from his jeans and sweater to something more comfortable, sitting on the bed and going on his phone, checking his messages.
Soon after, he watches you walk out the bathroom, fully clothed and with a frown on your face. He wants to say something, anything
But as soon as he gathers his courage, you're already leaving the room.
He spends around 10 minutes considering whether or not he should go after you. Everything always seemed so much easier in the movies you made him watch, but this was real life, and he was going to lose you if he didn't act out on his feelings and finally asked you to be his girlfriend.
Just as he was going to get up anyway, a text from Taehyung interrups his plan.
Taehyung: dude
Taehyung: Not to make you anxious or anything, but I'm pretty sure Jisung is asking Y/n out
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
"Does he not know that we're together?" Jungkook growls as he watches you and Jisung talk outside at the porch. It was cold. Why weren't you wearing a sweater at least? You'd be sick by the next morning if you stayed out there any longer.
Placing a hand on his shoulder, Taehyung holds a smirk away "You're not"
"Fuck off hyung, if you're just gonna stand here and piss me off you better leave" shrugging Taehyung's hand off Jungkook crosses his arms, muscles bulking out.
He watches as Jisung places a hand on your arm, smiling. And when you return it, Jungkook nearly loses it.
With quick steps, he does what he promised Taehyung not to do not even 5 minutes ago, walk out.
"Maybe you should back off a little." You hear Jungkook speak from behind you, startling you. "Jesus, Jungkook," you breathe out in surprise, hand on your chest as you stand up just like Jisung. "What's wrong?" Seeing Jungkooks stressed expression you ask him, trying to calm him down by placing a hand on his arm just like Jisung did to you earlier.
"He's so obvious. It's embarrassing." Jungkook argues, making you raise a brow in confusion. "Wait- what do you mean?" Looking back at Jisung he just shrugs, placing both his hands in his pockets as he watches the scene unfold before his eyes.
"He-" Jungkook starts, stopping himself to breathe out. "You're stupid if you think he just wants to be your friend"
You're shocked, with everything you'd expected him to say this wasn't even close. "Excuse me?" You ask him offended, raising your voice just a little bit. "Jeon Jungkook what the fuck did you just call me?" It seems as if he'd hit a nerve with the way you were reacting so suddenly, your aura completely changed. "What the fuck is your problem dude?" Jisung intervenes, stepping in front of you and that way separating you from Jungkook.
"None of your fucking business" watching Jungkook push Jisung away just a little too harsh you look back at Taehyung and Namjoon who were watching the scene unfold from inside the house. Namjoon seemed to have noticed your worried expression as he hurried out and separated the two men before a fight could break out. By now, a few tears of stress and disappointment were running down your face.
"It's okay, come here," Jennie speaks as she grabs your shoulders and hurries you inside, walking you to her room so you can calm down.
"What the fuck is going on here" Namjoon is the first to speak up out of the 4, his brows furrowed and arms crossed. Taehyung just shrugs, and so does Jisung. "I don't know, I was talking to Y/n, and then suddenly this dude."
"Don't call me dude," Jungkook interrups him, walking towards Jisung, Taehyung stopping him once more.
"He suddenly goes fucking crazy and insults Y/n"
"The fuck?!" Jungkook grows even more furious at the mention of him hurting you in any kind of way. Struggling in Taehyungs grasp, unfortunately stronger than his hyung, he manages to get out, landing a hit against Jisungs cheek.
"For fucks sake!" Namjoon yells, face shocked as he grabs the younger and pulls him away, forcing him inside the cabin and away from Jisung. "The fuck is that guy talking about? I didn't just randomly insult Y/n! He was clearly flirting with her!"
You hear Jungkook yell from outside the door, anxiety taking over as you inch closer to Jennie, who just hugs you tighter. "What is going on- I don't understand." You silently cried, wishing this was all just a dream.
"Jungkook calm the fuck down before I'm the next to land a hit on your face" Namjoon threatened, not really meaning it. "Tell me what the fuck happened just now"
Poking the inside of his cheek, Jungkook looks away, clearly not proud of his actions.
"Taehyung texted me that Jisung was asking Y/n out." Jungkook explains, hearing Namjoon sigh, he stops him from speaking, "But I didn't want to do anything at first! I trust her, I know she wouldn't just - I don't know - agree to be with him, I guess"
Namjoon nods, waiting for him to continue.
"But then that fucking basta-"
"Jungkook."
"Sorry. Then he got all touchy with her and I fucking lost it okay?" Burrying his head in his hand Jungkook groans "I shouldn't have let my emotions get the better of me"
"I called y/n stupid..." he admits seconds later.
Joon lets his hand brush over his face as he sighs out loud "why" he just asks. "Cause- how can she be so oblivious about it?! It's so obvious he has a thing for her, everyone can tell, come on!"
"Dude, come on, let's get that checked," Taehyung says as he walks Jisung to the bathroom to take care of the bloody wound Jungkook gave him.
"Fuck" he groans, pulling away from the wet towel as he curses. "Well suit yourself," Taehyung speaks as he hands Jisung the towel and leans against the counter, observing him.
"The fuck did you do to deserve that anyway?" Taehyung can't help but laugh dryly. Jisung looks up at him through the mirror his eyebrow raised. "Doesn't concern you or anyone else but me and Y/n"
After a small silence, Taehyung speaks up
"You like her." He shrugs as he states the obvious, making Jisungs eyes widen in shock.
Was it really that noticeable?
Taehyungs phone vibrates in his pocket, Namjoons chat appearing as he unlocks the phone.
Namjoon: make sure that Y/n sleeps in Jennies room tonight, Jungkooks fucked up man. He won't stop beating himself up over what happened
Namjoon: he's crying
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
The next morning you can't help but feel horrible for your friends. Obviously, it wasn't your fault. Everything that happened yesterday only had one person to blame.
You'd slept in Jennies room last night. She told you that it would be best if you didn't have to face Jungkook or Jisung for the rest of the night.
It was morning now, though, and you had to speak to either of them at some point. But firstly, you needed to apologise to Namjoon and Taehyung. They shouldn't have to spend their vacation taking care of you three just because you were too immature to do it yourselves.
So you got up around 6 a.m., knowing that everyone was still sleeping, and went into the kitchen to make some bomb ass breakfast for the boys. You've always been good at cooking, so you might as well use that skill to apologize.
With blueberry pancakes in one hand and a bowl of fresh fruit in the other, you knock on Namjoons door first. It was now a bit later, maybe 7 or even 7.30. You seemed ti have woken him up since, when he opened the door, his hair was messy and eyes barely open.
"Sorry," you apologise for waking him up, smiling when you hold up the tray of food. "What's all this?" Joon asks, looking down and almost salivating at the way too good-looking food. "My apology for what happened yesterday," You sigh as you walk into Namjoon's room and place the tray on his table. "I'm truly sorry; you and Taehyung shouldn't have to worry about me and Jungkook all the time, and I understand how inconvenient that can be." Namjoon only nods and shakes his head. "I spoke with Jungkook before shit went down."
"I don't want to intervene in your relationship, I know it's been an up and down, but Jungkook seriously likes you, he's just scared"
"I know" you sigh, walking towards the door to let him enjoy his early breakfast.
"Namjoon?" you speak up before closing the door, making him look up. "Yeah?"
"Thank you for telling me"
Next was Taehyung, he'd be a lot easier to apologise to; give him a fancy flavoured juul and the guy was sold.
Either way you walked towards his bedroom, which was right besides Jisungs. Swallowing hard you knock on Taehyungs door, hoping Jisung wouldn't walk out, out of the blue.
Thank goodness that didn't happen; instead, a fairly awake Taehyung smiled as he opened the door and saw the tray of food. "For you," you say as you move closer to him. "Thank you, woah," he says, cheerfully setting it on his bedside table. "I suppose you understand why I'm apologizing?" You cross your arms and lean against the doorframe once more. "It's fine, you know how Jungkook can get, I've gotten him out of worse shit," Tae says, taking one of the strawberries and placing it in his mouth.
You nod a little, laughing, "Either way, I already told Namjoon this, but you shouldn't have to spend your vacation looking after us like little kids." Tae shakes his head. "It's fun to put Big Bad Boy Jungkook in his place sometimes," he jokes.
"Well! I hope I'm forgiven," You speak while clasping your hands together, leaving the room.
Well, now that that was out of the way it felt like a huge weight was lifted off your chest. You could barely sleep at night just because of how bad you felt.
Just as you were about to return to the kitchen to eat some of your leftover pancakes, you noticed Jungkook doing just that. Coming to a halt and lightly gasping, you duck behind the wall. However, it appeared that it was useless because Jungkook spoke up only seconds later.
"I saw you"
Shit, should you run into Jennies room? Or maybe speak to him like an adult would?
Taking a deep breath in and out, you comb your hands through your hair and make sure your shirt isn't wrinkled.
"I wasn't hiding" crossing your arms you lean against the doorframe, trying to act cool.
"I didn't say you were," Jungkook mumbles, raising a brow at you, looking you up and down. "Is that my shirt?"
Looking down at yourself, you blush, it was.
"Don't change the topic! Why did you punch Jisung?" You suddenly speak up, getting to the point. Body tense as you two just stare at each other. "Don't even try to deny it! Taehyung told me"
All Jungkook could do was shrug, not even able to look into your eyes.
"What? You had the balls to punch my friend, but now that I'm confronting you about it, you -" You scoff "- you should be embarrassed."
You watch him bite his lips before walking a little closer to you, not fully in front of you but definitely close enough to hear his breathing.
"I'm really sorry, okay?"
You scoff "I'm not the one you should be apologising to"
"Asshole," you mutter under your breath before eventually leaving, but not before brushing past him to fetch yourself the last pancake.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
Later that day, you find yourself using the opportunity that Jungkook was in the gym downstairs to pack some of your things. You'd talked to Jennie, and both of you agreed that it was best if you stayed in her room for the rest of the two weeks you were staying at the cabin.
"This and that," you mumble as you place random things into your suitcase, not really acting whether or not they were packed neatly.
"Oh," you gasp, looking down at the bracelet Jisung had gotten you. You must've forgotten to put it back on after your bath yesterday. Further inspecting the jewelry, you just now notice the small engraving of both your names initials.
Now, it would've been cute if it weren't for the event that went on yesterday;
"You wanted to talk to me?" You ask, sitting down besides Jisung on the small couch at the porch outside. He nods. "Yes. I-" he starts, seemingly looking for the right words. "You...?" Smiling at him, you encourage him to keep talking.
Looking up, he locks eyes with you for a second before turning away, looking anywhere but you. "There's a reason that I came here on this trip with you all the way from Busan"
You nod, waiting for him to continue. Placing a hand on your arm, he inches closer to you, making you back up just a little. This felt weird. What was he getting at?
"The truth is," he sighs, now fully locking his eyes on you. The cold air of the night makes you shiver. "I've had a crush on you ever since we met, and -" he stops to link his lips, stating right at yours. "-I'd like for us to be more than just best friends"
You didn't know what to say. It's like your heart sipped a beat at his words. This wasn't happening right now. Please, god, let this be a dream.
"Jisung I-"
"Maybe you should back off a little"
You shake your head when your thoughts wander back to yesterday, the thought of having to talk to Jisung later, messing with your head.
Placing the bracelet in a drawer, you turn to your small suitcase to close it up. Having placed most of your shirts, pants, and undergarments in it, you should be good to go to live off it for the next few days, and you also had Jennies wardrobe to choose from anyway.
"I wouldn't talk to her just yet" Namjoon tells Jungkook as they both sit at the lake, enjoying the last few rays of sun before it got dark. "I want to fix things as soon as possible" Jungkook argues, throwing a rock into the water and watching it flip a few times before eventually drowning.
"Sometimes it's better to wait, Kook, everyone is still pretty upset about what happened, especially Y/n" he makes sure to let Jungkook know.
"I talked to her this morning, by the way," taking another sip of his beer. Namjoon starts to speak again after a small silence. "You did?" Jungkook turns to him in curiosity. The older nods, "she made me and Taehyung breakfast as an apology, 10/10, by the way," he laughs.
So that's why there were pancakes in the kitchen earlier.
"...well, what did she say?" Jungkook asks, leaning back and observing the sunset.
"Not much, just that she's upset that me and Taehyung have to take care of you like little kids." Jungkook laughs at that, yup definitely something you'd say.
"Have you apologised to Jisung yet?" Namjoon brings up the guy who's—in Jungkooks opinion—fault it was.
Shaking his head, Jungkook groans. "No."
.
Knocking on his door, you wait for Jisung to open it. Millions of thoughts ran through your mind at the moment. How would he take your rejection? Would he ever forgive you? Would he still want to be friends?. You honestly didn't know how or where to start, but when he opened the door for you, cheek bruised and hair messy, you knew you'd probably woken him up from a nap.
"Can I come in?" You carefully ask him, not really wanting to come off as too demanding. Nodding he steps aside and let's you walk in, turning on the lights as he did so.
"So?" He makes sure to let you know he's upset. You knew, of course. You'd known him for over 18 years. It was impossible not to read the others' facial expressions by perfection.
"I came here to firstly; apologise." You start sitting down on the little chair he had by his desk. When he doesn't say much, you continue. "I'm also here to tell you that" damn this was going to be difficult "Jisung I don't feel the same way, I'm sorry"
It felt like you'd just torn off a band-aid off an open wound.
"I should've known," Jisungs says, shaking his head, "I should've declined Busan University's scholarship and gone to Seoul with you," he admits angrily, his head falling into his hands. You make a shaky motion with your head. "That wouldn't have changed my feelings, Jisung," you say softly, not wanting to irritate him further.
"Yes, it would've, you wouldn't have met him!" He yells out in frustration, "every time we talked, every time we texted, you always mentioned him. Damn, do you even remotely know how fucking awful that felt?"
You sigh, standing up and walking over to him, placing a loving hand on his shoulder "Jisung, you should've told me-"
"Would it have changed your feelings, though? Huh? Would it have made you change your mind? Would I have made you love me?" He asks, one small tears falling from his eyes. You bite your lip. It wouldn't.
Grabbing a tissue from his bedside table, you give it to him, lightly patting his shoulder. "Jisung, I- I don't know what to tell you," you say honestly.
"I need you to tell me you love Jungkook enough to reject me like this. Tell me you have no feelings for me," he scoffs, his teeth clenched in annoyance.
There's an uncomfortable silence for a minute or two. We're Jisung just crying into your arms. "Jisung, I can't love you," you finally admit. "I love Jungkook"
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
The next day, things definitely seemed a little bit more normal, Jungkook had apologised to Jisung, and although it was a short one, you'd appreciate that he had at least done it.
You were preparing lunch with Namjoon in the kitchen when Jennie walked in, phone in hand as she grabbed a slice of your cut-up paprika and snacked on it.
"Hey," you laugh, "we still need that!". Shrugging, she smiled up at you and poked her tongue out, making you laugh. "So..." she raises her brows in anticipation. "So... what?" You ask her, placing the ingredients in the pan and letting Namjoon do the rest as you sat down beside your best friend and took a sip of water. "Have you talked to Jungkook yet?" She asks making you choke on your water.
Shaking your head, you scrunch your nose. "I don't even know if I should be the one to approach him? Shouldn't he be the one to apologise?"
"Ah, there you go acting like a kid again," Namjoon speaks from beside you, placing the veggies down on the plates and grabbing a can of soda for himself, sitting besides you two.
Offended you pout.
"It's not about who's fault it was and whose it wasn't." Namjoon once again starts with his pep talk, making you and Jennie roll your eyes. "She's right. He should be the one to approach her!" Jennie defends you. Fistbumping her, you smile. "Exactly"
"You, out of all people, should know how much effort it took for Jungkook to even apologise to Jisung in the first place" Namjoon lets you know.
You nod, he was right, Jungkook wasn't one to ever apologise for anything, so the fact that he went up to Jisung was crazy.
"Even if I were to come up to him..." You start. "I wouldn't even know how to start, let alone know what to say"
When Jisung suddenly enters the kitchen, you all go quiet, looking at the boy I'm shocked. Of course, he was entitled to walk anywhere in the house, but you genuinely thought he stayed in his room for a few days. At least, that's how you knew him.
"Hey," he waves, giving you guys a tight, forced smile.
"Jisung," you say in surprise, standing up and walking over to him. Jennie gives you an awkward look but puts her thumbs up. "Should we... go outside a bit?" You ask him, already grabbing his hand and walking out.
It seemed to be the worst timing ever cause just as you were leaving the house, you walked into Taehyung and Jungkook, who were cleaning the picnic table from yesterday day nights dinner. You give them both a tight smile as you walk past, pulling your hand away from Jisung as you pass Jungkook.
Jungkook turns around to look after you two, his fist clenching in anger seeing the two of you so close together after what happened.
"She already rejected the guy, chill," Taehyung says, hitting Jungkook shoulder and forcing him inside the house.
"So how are you?" You casually ask as the two of you walk by the lake, the sun shining, making the weather nice and warm. "To be honest..." Jisung starts, kicking some rocks. "I expected your rejection to feel worse than it actually did"
You cringe at his words, eventually nodding and humming.
"So does that mean that you don't hate me?" You ask him unsure of what his answer would be.
Laughing Jisung shakes his head, "Of course not, you idiot. How could I ever hate someone like you?"
Now you're laughing, too. "Well, I did reject you and told you that I loved Jungkook." Shrugging, you come to a halt. "No need to rub it in," Jisung warns. "Sorry"
"So..." he raises his brows at you "Do you?"
"Do you love him?" He asks in all seriousness.
The question hits you harder than it should, making you bite your lip and look out at the lake. "Me and Jungkook have a complicated relationship." You begin, unsure of how to continue. "You know, if you would have asked me 2 months ago I would've laughed in your face"
"And now?" Jisung asks
"Now..." you wonder, "now I wouldn't hesitate to say yes"
"I love Jungkook"
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
It's around 1 am. when you come to the brilliant idea to stargaze outside. You'd yet to talk to Jungkook, but what would you even tell him? I'm sorry for giving Jisung the wrong idea? I'm sorry for inviting Jisung in the first place?
God, everything was a mess. Your head was spinning with a million, thoughts that all led to Jungkook.
"Seeing you this upset over something I did makes me feel even worse," the voice of the man you were currently thinking about catches you off guard.
What the- did you just manifest Jungkook to come comfort you?
"Does it now?" You wonder out loud, not looking back to where he stood.
Humming Jungkook takes a seat beside you at the shore, his eyes set on you. You bite your lip for a second before turning to the guy you've been seeing for the best few months, the guy who stole your heart without even realising.
"I'm sorry for hurting you." He confesses, playing with his lip ring. Jungkook throws his head back. "Ah, it was so stupid of me"
"What was? The part where you called me stupid or the part where you hit Jisung across the face?" You ask sarcastically. The quiet sounds of the forest are the only other things that could be heard besides the two of you. The scenery was too pretty to be ruined by the two of you fighting.
Jungkook stopped to think for a second. He didn't come out here knowing you'd be there, too. He wanted to apologise the next morning, prepare a nice picnic for the two of you to talk over. But it seemed like destiny had other plans, as he saw you sitting at the lake all alone. It took him a minute to gather all of his courage to speak up again.
"I'm sorry for yelling at you. I'm sorry I made you cry, and I'm sorry that we fought." There's a second of silence before Jungkook continues. "And I'm sorry I got so fucking jealous," Jungkook says under his breath.
You nod, understanding but still not looking at him. "I know you're sorry, Jungkook." Shrugging you sigh, "it's been 2 days since the incident, and everyone's pretty much moved on. People who needed to apologise, apologised."
Somehow, you grow agitated, your brows furrowing in confusion to your own feelings.
Scoffing, you turn to him, locking eyes you watch him nibble at his piercing nervously. "Everyone had the guts to admit to their wrong doings but you!" Your voice grows louder, scaring away a few lizards that were brave enough to come closer.
"I'm-"
"I just don't get how you can be confident enough to hit someone but not to apologise," you interrupt him. Standing up, you're about to leave when his hand grabs your arm, stopping you in your tracks.
"Y/n, please," he begs, his voice quiet. You bite your lip, not fighting him as you two just stand there in the middle of the woods, alone.
"Please, don't do this to me. I can't live without you." Jungkooks voice was soft, sort of like an angel. When you turn and see the desperate look of regret in his eyes, your heart swells. You were never one to stay mad for too long, let alone argue.
"Jungkook," you whisper, staring into his big doe eyes, waiting for him to say something that would make you stay.
"I've never done this before. I'm probably not going to be great at it." Jungkook whispers, walking closer to you so that he was now only inches away. "I don't know how relationships work, I've never been in one"
You nod, understanding.
"Neither have I. But we could figure it out together." You whisper against his lips as they were now touching yours.
"You think I'm gonna be a good boyfriend?" He anxiously asks, his hand finding its way to your waist pulling you closer to him, bodies now fully touching. You're cold. He could feel it. But he'd take his time later to scold you for not wearing a proper jacket.
Chuckling against his lips, you peck him lightly, barely closing the distance "we've been in a pretty good situationship until now"
"Situationship, huh?" Jungkook laughs lightly, his tattooed hand tugging a hair strand behind your hear, stocking your red cheeks moments after. "You're a creative one"
"Always been" you agree.
"This would probably be the perfect moment for a kiss.." You initiate, and Jungkook hums in agreement, Your hand pulls his face closer to yours kissing him.
Who would have thought that at the end of the day, you'd be the one to make the first move after all.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
"Y/n would you like to be my girlfriend?" Jungkook chuckles, face buried in your neck as you make him ask you the same question for the tenth time that morning.
"Yes," you answer him sheepishly, smiling to yourself.
You'd moved your things back to his room. After your conversation at the lake, agreeing to be more cautious about each others feelings and properly talking things out, the two of you were now official.
"Ah, there they come, the married couple." Jennie rolls her eyes as she watches you two walk into the kitchen hand in hand, giggling to yourselves. "Well, what did Mr. Loverboy do to win you over?" Namjoon asks, taking a bite of his food as he observes how incredibly whiped Jungkook looked next to you. "I used my magic," he answers for you, making you frown. "I was the one to kiss him first!"
"Yeah well I was the one to actually ask you to be my grifriend so technically-"
"God, you two are already insufferable," Taehyung groans, making Jennie nod beside him. "You're just lonely," Namjoon tells Jennie, making her scoff and widen her eyes offended. "I don't need a man"
Shrugging off Jungkook, you walk over to her and first-bump her, nodding "me neither"
"Babe," Jungkook whines from behind you, making you and Jennie laugh in Union. "I was just kidding"
"Take care of her man," Jisung speaks up from behind Jungkook, suitcase in hand as he looks at everyone else. "You really have to leave already?" You pout, walking over to him and giving him a big hug.
Jisungs University had called earlier this morning informing him that a big company was interested in him to work for them. This was unmistakably an opportunity he couldn't miss.
"Yeah, it's a long drive home, I'll let you know when I'm back home"
"Okay" you whisper sadly, looking over at Jungkook who pulls you towards him, comforting you.
"Drive safely," Namjoon waves.
"Don't drink and drive," Taehyung adds
"Y/n still likes me better." Jennie shrugs, going back to looking at her nails.
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Text
My Everyday
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Pairing: College Athlete!Bucky x Reader
Summary: Bucky Barnes was aggressive, annoying, and—worst of all—a hockey player. Not your type. At all. But, unfortunately, your roommate. 
Word count: 5.5k
Warnings: Minor injury, idiots in love <3, some angst, pining
a/n: My first fic in a century!! Thank you so much for reading if you’re still here. Depending on how this does I hope I’ll have motivation to write more! College athlete Bucky never fails to get me inspired :)
Masterlist
~~
“What’s this punks name again?” 
The breath you let out was long and excruciating. “I am not repeating myself.” 
“C’mon, y/n,” Bucky whined, knocking his head back on the couch. He watched you bustle around the kitchen from his inverted vantage point. “How the hell am I supposed to swoop in and save the day if I don’t even know the kid’s name?” 
“Okay, well, first of all—” the fridge door clicked shut with a swift motion of your hips “—he’s not a ‘kid’. I’m pretty sure he’s a few months older than you.” 
“Semantics.” 
“And second of all,” you stressed, pointing a butter knife in his direction. “There will be no ‘swooping in’. I’m going to have a nice date and you are going to go hang out with your puck rabbits or whatever they're called. There will be no thinking about me and no swooping in my vicinity.” 
Bucky rolled his eyes, kicking up from the couch and rounding the kitchen counter to pick at your sandwich. You knocked his hand away several times, but you both knew it was futile. In the months you’d been living with the hockey player—who was far too big for the small, shoebox of an apartment you leased—you’d learned that food was non-negotiable for Bucky Barnes. 
There were many other things you’d learned about him as well. He sang in the shower, but only when he thought you weren’t home. He had an annoying penchant for using your $30 lotion—again, when he thought you weren’t home. And he loved to throw his massive, smelly gear just about anywhere it would land right when he got home from every practice. 
He didn’t really care if you were home for that last one. 
Bucky was the last person you thought you would be rooming with when you posted that ad last summer. A small, quaint room previously occupied by your now engaged (and traitorous) best friend, you assumed someone like-minded to yourself would have taken you up on your offer. The price point wasn’t egregious and the building was relatively close to campus. 
But weeks ticked by, and you started getting desperate. Your landlord wasn’t a nice lady, something you were positive she took pride in, and she decided that a rent increase was the perfect way to ring in the new school year. You were on the verge of destitution, and as it so happened, the only other person as desperate as you was the starting center for your college’s hockey team. 
You hardly got along. It had taken weeks for your eye to stop twitching every time he tumbled through the front door at three in the morning, and even longer for you not to feel an infuriating aggravation at his random, nighttime smoothies. You supposed he probably felt the same about your cleanliness rules and your incessant reminders about trash days. Because Bucky was in charge of bringing the trash down those long, apartment steps. Not you. 
But you’d be lying if you said things hadn’t gotten easier as of late. Conversation flowed more smoothly, things that made you seethe before were only mildly annoying, and Bucky was being… considerate? You weren’t quite sure what to call the random cups of coffee he brought home on occasion. Or his sudden urge to warm up your car when he had a morning class before yours. 
There was also the case of that party last weekend. A frat party with far too many drunk men and not enough common sense, you had had the urge to leave the second you got there. But Wanda had dragged you along for the sole purpose of driving her home after she got hammered, so you were essentially stuck. 
It was fine at first. Hot and crowded and loud, but fine. You kept a general eye on Wanda and scrolled aimlessly on your phone in the armchair you claimed. And then it wasn’t fine, because a man twice your size was encroaching on your space and unrelenting. 
“What kinda girl comes to a party and doesn’t even wanna talk to anyone?” 
“You want to come up to my room and watch a movie or something?” 
“Hey, I’m talking to you, bitch.” 
You weren’t even aware that Bucky had been at that party. It wasn’t surprising—the line between fraternities and sports was blurred at your college—but the space he took up as he intercepted the man in front of you was.
~~
“There a problem here?” Bucky posed, crossing his arms over his chest, his presence looming above your seated position. His weight shifted to his toes.
The man didn’t miss a beat. “Yeah, you. Move.” 
“Wanna fucking tell me what to do again?” 
“Fuck you, man.” 
A harsh shove to Bucky’s chest was all it took for a right hook to echo in the living room of the frat house. There was chaos. Grunts and screams from the drunk people surrounding the unnecessary fight created a cacophony of unpleasant sounds that seemed to get the attention of someone in charge. The man—Brian, you had now learned based on screams—was pulled back from Bucky and getting chewed out by some president or manager of something. 
And Bucky was seething, chest rising and falling laboriously as he wiped at the new bruise forming on his face.
Fights were not uncommon. But this one had been about you. For you.
“Bucky?” you asked when the crowd calmed and Brian was no longer in the room. 
You watched his back release its tight coil. He turned. “Are you okay?” 
The words were almost lost in the noise of the crowd, but he was close enough that they created a tactile vibration across your skin. His pupils were dilated and he looked so disheveled it would have been charming if there wasn’t also a cut forming on his brow. 
“Y/n.” 
It took you a moment to realize that you hadn’t answered him. Your response fell out of you as if you’d been shoved. “I’m—I’m fine.” 
He grunted, but it was more of a puff of air. “The fuck was that guy?” 
“I don’t know,” you replied, realizing by the way you swayed that you had stood up at some point. “He just—” 
“We’re going home.” 
“What? I can’t, I’m here with Wanda. I’m driving her, Bucky, I can’t just leave.” 
He grabbed your wrist, the grip achingly soft compared to the blows he was landing minutes before. “She left with that British guy she’s been on and off with. Asked me to tell you.” 
That explained his random appearance. Your brows pinched as you took in the information, eyes cast down to the angry red marks marring Bucky’s knuckles. He’d been in fights before. So many fights. On the ice. 
This was different. 
“I haven’t been drinking—I can drive myself home. You don’t have to leave,” you shouted over the music now bumping in the room. 
He didn’t respond, not verbally. He pulled you to his front instead, leading you through the impossible crowd until cool night air began melting into your skin. His silence was strange. Bucky’s favorite activity was talking your ear off until you told him to shut up, but right now… nothing. Even his earlier words had been clipped. 
You felt responsible for easing the tension in the air as Bucky continued to guide you to your car. You hadn’t told him where you parked, but he seemed to know the exact location anyways.
“You really don’t have to leave with me,” you mumbled. “It wasn’t a big deal or anything.” 
“It was a big deal.” 
~~
The drive home had been silent. The walk to the door had been as well. Bucky spent a few minutes appraising you in the overhead light of the living room when you got inside, but after that there was nothing. He went to his room and you went to yours. 
There was no discussion about it the morning after, either. Bucky apparently wanted to pretend nothing ever happened, so you respected that. Even now, you ignored the fading cuts on his hands as he shoveled food into his mouth.
Bucky’s next words were muffled by a mouthful of bread. “Well where’s this dude taking you at least?”
“Ice skating.”
The cough and sudden exasperation was very expected out of the man next to you, Bucky’s next words hardly containing syllables. “Huh?” 
“We’re going ice skating,” you reiterated. You picked up your lunch and headed for the living room, ignoring the slightly heaviness in your chest. “It’s winter and ice skating is festive. The rink on campus has decorations.” 
“Without me? Y/n, you’re gonna let some guy who probably doesn’t even know how to skate—” 
“Bucky—” you attempted to interrupt. 
“—drag you around the rink like a rag doll?” he continued, holding his hand up to mute your incoming speech. “I’ve asked you to come by the rink, like, a ton of times. You’ve never shown any interest.” 
You rolled your eyes and shot him a cross look as he picked your feet up from where they rested on the couch and dropped them into his lap. He went on with his rant for a little while longer, knocking his head back against cushions and accusing you of being a bad roommate. You had a few rebuttals of your own, but there was a reason you had never accompanied him to the rink. 
A good reason. 
You didn’t date athletes. 
It was true that simply going to visit Bucky at a practice, or letting him be the one to drag you around the ice like a rag doll, wouldn’t mean you were in a relationship by any means. But it would be an extra step. And if you were being honest with yourself, it would only take a few of those extra steps for the irritation you felt towards Bucky to melt into something else. 
And you didn’t date athletes. 
You did not. 
You didn’t have the time, nor the patience, to put up with the cheating, the anger issues, or the crazy schedules. And there wasn’t a single athlete you’d met at your sport-centered university that was willing to compromise on any of those subjects. Especially the cheating. You’d learned that the hard way after dating a lacrosse player for approximately one month before receiving the dreaded DM from a girl you had never met. 
The man hadn’t even given you the courtesy of pretending he didn’t know what she was talking about. He just admitted to his wrong-doing and shrugged. Shrugged. 
So athletes were not exactly in your good graces when it came to dating. 
“Are you even listening to me?” Bucky cut through your thoughts, patting your shin in impatience. 
You blinked and reoriented yourself, focusing on the hairs that fanned across Bucky’s face. “Of course I am,” you lied. “But my answer is still the same. I’m going on my date and you are not going on my date.” 
He groaned, apparently giving up as he cradled your legs closer to him to lean over and grab the remote from the coffee table. He flipped the channel to ESPN—typical—and you ate your sandwich, silently cursing him. He had a TV in his room. 
“When is it?” he suddenly asked, breaking the silence that had knitted itself into a comfortable blanket over the room. 
“Tonight,” you answered plainly. 
The arms atop your legs tensed. 
~~
The dichotomy of the man sitting beside you was impressive. On one hand, he was so full of himself that he had missed almost all of your conversation starters due to being so transfixed by his reflection in the rink’s glass. He had yet to ask you a single question about yourself and had insisted that the four other girls skating tonight were in love with him. 
On the other hand, he was, quite possibly, the most uninteresting person you had ever met. You were usually very quick to laugh, but every word out of his mouth was almost painful. He wouldn’t stop talking about his ex-girlfriend, gave you one word answers about anything other than baseball, and was honestly really terribly at ice skating. You were no pro either, but you found yourself on your back every time he tried holding your hand.
The tumble five minutes ago had you seeking out the penalty box on the side of the rink. You needed a break, you had told him, hoping he would continue on making a fool of himself and give you a moment alone. But he followed you instead, and was now sitting beside you, talking about baseball.
You supposed that was better than making you fall while talking about baseball.
“I bet we could do that,” he remarked, pointing out onto the ice and catching your attention. A couple who clearly had more experience than you was twirling each other around. “We definitely could. I pick up good speed.” You cringed. “I really don’t think we should try, Sean. My tailbone is already pretty bruised.” 
“Oh, c’mon! I won’t try the throwing part, just the twisty stuff.” 
“We are literally on rental skates. You will kill me,” you deadpanned. You were tired at this point and seriously questioning why you thought ice skating was a good first date idea. 
Well, there actually was an answer for that. But you were not going to think about the hockey player that popped into your head when Sean asked you on a date in the dining hall last week. 
Definitely not. 
“I’m not going to let my date think I’m boring,” Sean groaned, yanking you up from your seat. 
You gave a few tugs and words of resistance but they were ultimately useless. You figured it would be just as useless to tell the guy you already thought he was boring. He probably wouldn’t even hear you. 
On unsteady skates, Sean guided you to a mostly cleared corner of the rink and gripped your forearms. He squinted as he surveyed the area, the corner of his mouth turning up in a way that made your stomach roll. This entire date had been a bad idea.
“Maybe we should just watch them do it,” you tried, words wavering. 
“No!” he grinned. “No, we got this. It’s gonna look so cool.” 
And then you were spinning. You’d never been spun against your will before, but it sucked. Your skates kept getting stuck in the divots in the ice and the grip on your forearms was close to bruising. You were starting to get dizzy and Sean showed no signs of caring. God, he really was dragging you around the rink like a rag doll. Bucky was going to get a kick out of this.
“Okay, ready?” Sean called, an unwarranted jubilation in his tone. 
“What?” you yelled. 
He didn’t answer you. Instead, he let go, and you went flying in another direction without a clear path. It only lasted a moment, but the sound of your head smacking onto the ice signified the end of that movement. You landed on your arm next, and then your back. Again. 
This time felt different though. Your head was spinning and there were muted pinpricks trailing up to your wrist. The ache there was dulled compared to the biting iciness in your back, but as soon as you tried leaning on it to get up, it became sharp.
“Oh shit!” came Sean’s laughter-filled gasp. “My bad. I really didn’t mean to let go.” 
You blinked a few times to clear the blurriness from your vision but it proved unhelpful. “I think… I think my arm’s broken.” 
“Wait, seriously?” he asked, wobbling down to a seat beside you. 
“Yeah, it’s—”
“Everything okay over here?” a voice interrupted. You tried blinking again to take in the man that towered over the two of you, but the lights overhead washed him out. 
You recognized him…maybe? You felt like you were going to throw up. 
Sean answered for you. “Yeah, man, we’re fine. She just fell.” 
“Y/n, are you okay?” the man asked, ignoring your date completely.
“Do I know you?” you slurred.
You thought you heard a curse. “What made you think throwing her around was a good idea?” 
“Dude, it wasn’t even that fast. Or my fault. She just couldn’t keep her feet under her.” 
“Well, dude, maybe you should go home.” 
Sean scoffed. “Right, and who’s going to take this one home?” 
Your head was starting to hurt with all of the back and forth. The man that just joined, the taller one, kneeled down beside you. His blonde hair cast a harsh glare that had you squinting again. 
“You want me to call Bucky?” he asked.
Bucky? How would he know Bucky? Blonde hair began morphing into a man in your memory, and you reached for the material of his shirt, looping it between your fingers.
“Steve Rogers?” you mumbled. 
The man, now identified as Steve, sighed. “I’m calling him. Go home, Sean. Her roommate is coming to get her.” 
There was more discussion, something about Steve having the authority to kick him out and Sean not understanding what all of the fuss was about. Steve warned him about something and Sean scoffed as if the situation was beneath him. And then he left. 
Steve was then in your line of sight again, brows pinched together and a bright orange vest covering his shoulders. His hands hovered in front of you as if you’d break if he touched you and you almost found it funny. Steve was a huge guy with a lot of authority on Bucky’s team, but right now he looked like a scared animal. 
“Why are you dressed like a construction worker?” you asked. 
A small smile graced his face. “I’m working at the rink today. Everyone on the team has to take shifts during the holidays.” 
“Hmm,” you hummed. “I think my arm is broken.” 
“I know. I’m pretty sure you have a concussion too. Let’s get you off the ice, yeah?” 
You tried to nod, but that hurt too much so you let Steve assist you in shakily standing up. He guided you to the seats by the rental skate counter with a soft but sure hand on your back, asking some guy named Antonio for an ice pack. Everything around you felt like a fever dream. 
Gentle touches rolled the sleeve of your sweater back to reveal a swollen wrist that Steve immediately covered with an ice pack. 
He cursed again. “Well he’s gonna be pissed.” 
“Who?” Your head swayed with the question. 
Steve looked up to meet your gaze, lips parting to answer, when he was replaced by a different face. Your brain was having trouble keeping up with everything, obviously, because Bucky was in front of you now. He was kneeling between your legs with his hands on your face and you had no idea where Steve went. 
“What the fuck?” you blurted out. 
“Hey, y/n.” Bucky spoke your name low and soothing, his fingers moving to your eyes where he pried them open one at a time and looked for something you couldn’t see. His next words were directed over his shoulder. “Maybe a concussion. Tell me what happened again?” 
“Sean Marcus was being an ass. Flung her all over the place,” Steve replied. 
“Why are you here?” you interjected, trying to focus on one thing at a time. “I told you not to come on my date.” 
Bucky moved his assessment to your arm next, shifting the ice pack. “Never really agreed to those terms.” 
He turned back to Steve after that, having another discussion that you barely understood. Bucky absentmindedly fiddled with the material of your jeans as he spoke, and you put all of your energy into not face planting on the ground. This past week had truly been a series of terrible events with terrible men. 
After some amount of time elapsed, you were walking to the parking lot with a jacket thrown over your shoulders and Bucky continuously jutting a hand out each time you took a step. He was very well versed in concussions, apparently. 
“Okay, in you go, killer,” Bucky prompted, opening the passenger door. 
You eyed the front seat, scrunching your face up. “My arm hurts.” 
The man in front of you seemed to soften, his shoulders dropping on a long exhale. “I know, sweetheart. But we gotta go to the hospital to fix that. I’ll make sure it doesn’t hurt anymore.”
“I should just call Wanda. Or Nat. You don’t have to be the one to take me.” 
“I can take you just fine.”
“Why do you want to you? Aren’t you busy?” 
Another long sigh, this one accompanied by hands on your shoulders, fingers at the base of your neck. “Get in the car.”
His eyes were boring into yours, searching for something, or maybe already finding it there. You still had your arm cradled to your chest and you titled your head to the side as you observed him. There was something else to his gaze that you couldn’t quite describe. It reminded you of his expression after he came home from a rough game. Angry. Discontent. 
“You’re being weird,” you commented, breaking the silence you had created. 
“You broke your arm and smacked your head on the ice,” he simply replied, as if the statement was an explanation. 
“Yeah, but—” 
“And then that douchebag did nothing about it,” Bucky interrupted. “So please, y/n, get in the car so I can help you before I find him and kick his ass. Because you know I’m not above fighting people.” 
You blinked, and then slid into the front seat. 
The drive was quiet. You’d never been in Bucky’s car before, but the spinning in your head didn’t give you much space to inspect it too closely. You caught hockey gear in the back, a keycard to the rink dangling off the rearview mirror, and a small collection of hair ties in one of the cupholders. One caught your attention.
“Hey, this one’s mine.” You picked up the purple band and rolled it between your fingers. “Thief.” 
Bucky snatched it back. “Mine now.” 
He made a sharp turn that had you sucking air between your teeth and repositioning your arm. Bucky sent you a quick, achingly apologetic look. 
“Sorry, almost there.” A long beat of silence and then a mumbled, “I should keep your hair tie. You won’t be able to do your hair alone with a broken arm anyway.” 
~~
Your wrist was fractured, not broken. You also only had a minor concussion. This was all great news to you, especially since they told you after administering a hefty amount pain reliever. To Bucky, this was apparently terrible, life-altering news. 
After practically body slamming into the front door of your apartment, he chucked his wallet and keys down on the kitchen counter and began grumbling to himself as he opened and closed kitchen cabinets. You watched from a distance, half amused, half concerned for the rusting hinges. He finally found what he was looking for—a cup—and continued to mutter to himself as he filled it with gatorade. 
“Are you… okay?” you asked tentatively. 
Bucky ripped the freezer open and manhandled three to four ice cubes. “I’m fine. You are not.” 
“I’m okay now,” you assured. Bucky stalked over to you anyways, pressing the sports drink into your hand that was not wrapped in a cast.
You looked down at the glass and sent him a baffled look. He nodded at it and raised his brows, a silent demand for you to drink. 
“Okay. And why do I need to drink gatorade?” Your words were slow. 
“You were just on the ice and haven’t had any water for at least three hours.” 
“Bucky,” you began. “I was ice skating recreationally for about thirty minutes. I don’t need to replenish my electrolytes.” 
“Will you just… will you just drink the damn drink?” he groaned, gesturing to it with a firm hand. “Jesus, I can’t take care of you when you go and get yourself hurt by idiots. So just let me do what I know I can do, alright?” 
“You don’t have to take care of me.” You were beginning to raise your voice, matching some of the frustration in the room. 
Bucky threw his hands in the air, tugging at his roots on the way down. He moved further into the kitchen and leaned against the counter with stiff, rod-like arms propping him up. And then he sighed, long and profound as if this was the hardest conversation he’d had all year. His head hung heavy between stiff shoulders and you felt the environment shift. 
You almost wanted to intervene on his thoughts again, to make some comment about the dishes in the dishwasher or pretend you were going to go take a nap. But he had something to say, something you needed to hear, and so you stayed. You blinked and clenched your fist in the uncomfortable silence, but you stayed. 
“Y/n, I want to take care of you,” Bucky breathed out, words still directed toward the floor, almost too low to make out. “I’ve been tryna get you to see that for weeks now, but you’ve either got no clue or you want absolutely nothing to do with me.” 
You stopped blinking, stopped fidgeting, stopped breathing altogether. You watched as Bucky drummed his fingers against the counter and still refused to look up. You swallowed hard because you weren’t clueless, but also because you wanted everything to do with Bucky Barnes. 
And nothing at the same time. 
“Bucky…” you began, with a tone of surprise you weren’t sure was believable.
“Don’t do it yet,” he stopped you. “Don’t…don’t tell me no yet. I’m still pissed as hell that you got hurt and you shouldn’t be alone with a concussion. I don’t need you avoiding me when you can’t even drive a car.” 
“You’re being presumptuous.” 
He snapped his head up, his eyes rushing back and forth between your own. The drumming on the counter ceased, instead replaced by balled up fists turning white under days old cuts and fading bruises. He didn’t say anything. You searched the empty air for a reply. 
“I wouldn’t avoid you. I don’t know if I could avoid you—not anymore. You’re sort of a big part of my life now.” A good start, you thought. Not a real answer, but not a rejection. 
Bucky bit the inside of his cheek and eyed the drink still perspiring in your hand. You set it down at his observance, moving closer to his slumped posture in the kitchen. 
But Bucky stood up straight at your movement, becoming guarded, stiff. “I shouldn’t have said anything. Bad timing, just forget it. You should try and get some sleep.” 
“I don’t want to forget it,” you softly spoke, shaking your head.
He clenched his jaw. “And I don’t want to hear that you don’t feel the same way about me that I feel about you. Not right now. I feel like I’m going insane, watching you go out on dates and having my best friend tell me that my girl—that’s not really my girl—is all banged up on the ice because of some asshole.” 
You opened your mouth to speak, but Bucky kept going, now pacing in the kitchen. “I mean, y/n, you’re my everyday. I wake up and you’re making coffee. You text me in class to ask what I need at the grocery store and then I call you after practice to make sure you got back to the apartment. I think about you so god damn much and I can’t believe there was a time in my life that I didn’t get to end my day in a home that has you. And you’re just my roommate. You want nothing to do with athletes, I get it—” he added, catching your eye in the middle of his rant, “—but, shit, I haven’t even looked at another girl since… well it doesn’t even matter.”
“Tell me,” you whispered. There were a million other things you could’ve said, a million explanations that would have made sense. But the two soft words stopped Bucky from tracking holes in the ground. They shoved him from his shallow breaths and made him look at you. 
And, god, did he look at you. You must have been worse for wear. A hospital visit mixed with one too many tumbles onto solid ice probably had your hair in disarray and your face pressed with exhaustion, but his gaze was revering. Candy-coated red with soft blues melting below brows that fluxed with the movement of his lips; Bucky was beautiful, and he was looking at you as if you matched.
His tone confirmed as much, light and saccharin as he said, “That dumb movie a few weeks ago, the one about the superheroes. Your friends wouldn’t watch it with you so you made me. You were so excited even though it was awful and you were out like a light within the first hour. You rolled over onto me and I wasn’t gonna wake you up so I sorta just held you.” 
He paused, trailing his eyes up to the light fixtures. “At the risk of sounding pathetic, it felt like I had you, you know? Like we were going through all our usual motions, but after I annoyed the hell out of you and you told me off, you were mine. I can’t… I can’t really picture that with another girl.” 
There were very few times you had considered yourself speechless. But with Bucky Barnes standing in front of you, red-faced and vulnerable and still wearing the stupid hospital nametag they made him put on in the waiting room, you had no words. There was none of the arrogance you usually associated with him, no short-temper or pestering taunts. It was just Bucky, and he was pouring his heart onto the kitchen floor. For you. 
“You get why you can’t tell me no just yet?” he asked, trying to get something out of you. Anything. “You can break my heart, but let me just make sure you’re okay first. And I can’t beat the shit out of Sean if we aren’t on speaking terms.” 
The laugh that left you was one of disbelief, but the breathiness and accompanying tears fit the heaviness of the room. Your glossy eyes met Bucky’s and something flashed on his face, but it was soon out of your line of sight because you were kissing him. You were kissing him hard and your bodies were too close for the cast between you but it didn’t matter. 
He didn’t respond at first, hand hovering at your back. But then he did and the cold linoleum of the kitchen floor was gone from your bare feet. He sat you on the counter, so gently, as if you were glass, and you let your hand brush against the cracks and divots of your home. The one that Bucky came back to every night to see you. 
The one that had housed so many nights of confusion and longing and denial.
The one that had Bucky kissing the life out of you on the kitchen counter. 
He pulled away first, forehead pressed to yours. “Didn’t think I’d ever get to do that.” 
“You can do it again.” 
“Oh, I will, baby.” 
Laughter met in the air between you—sweet, short, intertwined. There was so much you wanted to tell him, so many instances like the one he shared before where you were left questioning boundaries and feelings and lines. But, you figured, there would be so many opportunities to tell him. So much time together. 
“I texted Wanda that night,” you shared, interrupting the kisses he was pressing to your cheek. “After I woke up and you had taken me back to my room.” 
He smiled against your skin. “What’d you say?” 
“I told her I was an idiot—that I was falling for the enemy.” 
Bucky ran a soft hand along the back of your head, a smirk lighting up his face. He was slotted between your legs and kept his other hand firmly pressed onto the kitchen counter, caging you in, making sure your arm didn’t hit the cabinets. 
“And is that true?” 
“I don’t know,” you hummed, connecting your foreheads once again, wanting to stay impossibly close. “Try to cure my broken bone with gatorade again and we’ll see.”
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forteafy · 8 months
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A House, A Home | CL16 & CS55
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Summary: A loveless marriage usually comes after years, not before. You've always loved him, his best friend has always loved you.
Word Count: 10.1k
Warnings: Hard Angst, Cheating, Mentions of Sex, Death.
Note: This piece has two heavy inspirations. The first is @lxclerc's amazing pieces 'Moth to a Flame' and 'Call out my Name.' They are both incredible pieces and I highly suggest you give them a read. The second is from a TikTok Account called 'ForPercival,' they are currently doing a social media AU which I cannot recommend enough.
PART 1: A House, A Home | PART 2: Where Do We Go? | PART 3: 'You Think, You Know'
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Charles Leclerc is a husband. 
At least, he was your husband on paper. One year ago, a hidden agreement had been put in place between Scuderia Ferrari and the Leclerc Household; their son, the ‘Il Predestinato,’ of the team, (albeit one whom had had the most terrible season,) could continue to drive for the team, so long as he married the daughter of one of their longest-running investors.
That so happened to be you. 
You had been against the entire idea since the first day. After being introduced to Ferrari’s driver, you had instantly felt the divide between the two of you. You’d reluctantly shaken his hand and since then, had been thrown through a mixture of fake dates, a fake engagement and the fakest wedding that could possibly be imagined. The ceremony hadn’t even ended with a kiss, per tradition. 
It didn’t take long for your walls to crack; living with Charles, seeing him at his highest and lowest points, his most vulnerable behind the four walls of your home had caused your heart to soften. Forget being forced into this marriage, you’d grown to care, to adore the man who’d once burdened you with his presence. You dreamed of the day he would return your affection; how long would it take for you to realise you lived in denial? In your late-night fantasies, lying alone in one of the guest rooms you’d sought refuge in on moving into this ­house, you’d dreamt of lying in his arms, lazy morning breakfast, slow kisses when he would come back to you. To your home.
A home, however, is where you feel safe, warm, protected. You lived in a house with Charles. The man who would barely glance your way and after three months of your marriage, started coming home, smelling of rich perfume and lipstick marks littering his jawline.
The first anniversary of your marriage should have been special, even if he despised you in every known form to man. You’d woken up in your room, slipped on the silk robe which had been lying on the empty bedside and slipped out of the bedroom. In your heart of hearts, you knew there would be no significance of today; no flowers, no card, not even a simple text from your husband to signify the date in question. The only text you had received that morning, was a stern reminder from your father, that you were due to attend the Monza Grand Prix in less than one week. 
A soft sigh emitted itself from your lips; it was a routine you knew all too well. Every few races, the more significant ones; Monaco, Silverstone, Spa-Francorchamps, Monza, you’d play the doting wife; cheering for your husband whilst dressed in soft summer dresses, a forged grin if he managed to battle his way into the points. On those rare days when he would obtain a podium position, he’d greet you on the barriers with a soft kiss. It was all fake; a routine which had been performed so many times. Yet, each time his lips met yours, you could dream he meant something behind the affection. 
The train of thought had played through your mind for so long that you were unaware of the tears pooling on your lower lash line. So, what if Charles wasn’t at home for your anniversary? It was your thought for feeling any kind of emotion towards him in the first place. It was a business deal, after all. Did your husband enjoytreating you like this? His disappearance on that morning was a cold reminder that he felt nothing towards you. No sentiment, no adoration. 
Despite the tears which had bade your eyes that morning, until the mid-afternoon, you had a productive day. Of course, leaving the house was out of the question; what would the media say if devoted wife of Ferrari’s driver was seen without him, on their wedding anniversary of all days? 
Instead, you’d played soft music whilst re-organising your wardrobe, something you’d put off for a while now. Cooking a meal whilst lazily treading around the kitchen, experimenting with the spices that Yuki had gifted to you on your previous visit to a Grand Prix. The meal itself was too big to eat alone. Instead, you boxed up the remainders of what was left in the tray, carefully placing it in the fridge, knowing Charles wouldn’t actually eat it. 
Your evening had been…less productive. You’d found solace in a glass of red wine, lounging on the sofa of the main living area; usually, you kept as far away from that zone as possible. Charles would spend his evenings in the couch, eyes flickering between the television and his phone, no doubt sending longing messages to his mistress whilst his wife was in the home. 
The ­third glass had just about been drained. You were adamant upon gaining a fourth, no longer caring of any commitments you had the next day. Instead, you sat up abruptly from the sofa, hearing the gentle click from the front door. 
He had come back to the house. 
His green eyes barely took a second to meet yours, slipping off his shoes and placing them into the rack situated by the front door. A rustle of his jacket signified his option to stay. You saw him carry the garment over his arm as he trudged into the living area, set to lie in front of the television for some personal relaxation. 
With his entry to the room, you suddenly remembered your position. You’d hastily stood up from the couch, collecting the half-finished bottle from the low table, holding the glass to your chest to draw the attention away from your beverage. 
Charles said nothing; he’d unlatched the top two buttons from his dress shirt; faint purple marks nestled on the lower joint of his neck; a clear mark that his mistress had previously made, a sinful reminder of his adultery. 
“I left you some dinner in the fridge.” You mumbled, voice barely picking up over the sound of the television. “There’s some clean loungewear on the end of your bed, too.” You finish your sentence. Your husband doesn’t even attempt to tell you he’s acknowledged your words, eyes transfixed on whatever news was currently playing on the television. 
“Happy Anniversary.” You mumble, feet leading you back to the kitchen, the bottle of wine against your chest now seemingly the only attention you’d ever get. 
Charles Leclerc is an actor. 
The entire drive to the track had been bade in complete silence; not even the radio had been switched on to drown out the undeniable tension in the car. You had originally tried to make light conversation with the man; he couldn’t even be bothered to make a sound in response to any of your questions. 
You couldn’t handle the harsh tone he had snapped at you with the previous time you had been in the car; instead, you watched the rolling hills and glistening sun of Monza. It was always one of the highlights of the year. If not for the racing, you would have come here in your own time, to bask in the sun and to enjoy the secluded section of Italy as an individual. 
The incredible views soon began to fade out, instead replaced by expensive cars and adoring fans, leaning over the barriers in an attempt to see their favourite drivers; there was an uproar as your husband drove past the crowds; he was clearly the home favourite, as any member of the Ferrari crew would be in this location. Silently, you slipped on the sunglasses which had been resting in the pouch of your bag, knowing the paparazzi would be blistering your eyesight sooner rather than later. 
Charles effortlessly parked his car in the allocated spot. Silently, he switches off the engine, removing the keys and shoving them into his jean pocket. The man doesn’t so much as register your presence as he opens his door, leaving you to venture out of the car yourself. You’d carefully adjusted the flowing fabric of your dress; the patterned fabric flowing gently around your calves. 
You looked beautiful. You just wished your husband would care enough to tell you.  
Instead, his priority is the cameras leaning over the barriers. He doesn’t even look in your direction, instead firmly grasping your hand in his own; an act the two of you had performed for the crowd oh-so-many times. He waves towards the crowds; neither of you miss the adoring sounds, the coos for many of the fan’s favourite ‘couple.’ To so many, his affection seemed to clear to you, and yours did to him. 
Charles didn’t hold your hand with any adoration. His grasp was harsh, palms roughly mashed together, no intent to keep your grip safe against his own. You were certain that if you were to let go, he wouldn’t think to remedy the situation. Your theory is proven when you gently let go, instead keeping in step, just behind his figure; Charles’ hand seems as if it’s gone into idle mode. His eyes, however, stayed alert, vigilant. Silently, the two of you pass through the paddock security, pausing every few moments for Charles to sign a cap, take a photograph with a fan. 
It isn’t until you reach the outskirts of the Ferrari Building that you see her. Soft hair around her shoulders, clothing exquisite, her eyes flickering to your husband, offering him a sympathising smile. 
He may have been a devoted husband towards the press, to Ferrari, even to the majority of his team. However, the moment that the cameras were turned off, microphones pushed away, he was sneaking to his mistress, one he had shamelessly invited to so many Grand Prix’s over the past nine months. She was what he wanted; a fun and fancy-free lady, rather than the wife whom stood by his side. There’s a glance between the two of them, as if a whole conversation is had in that moment. 
You stay silent as you follow Charles into the Ferrari Building. Instantly, you’re overwhelmed by the welcomes that your husband obtains; so many of them pass onto you. Upon the questions of how married life is treating him, he smiles, fakes a laugh as he pulls you into his side, one hand firmly resting upon your waist. 
“Married life is perfect.” He insists, pressing a kiss to the side of your head, one which you falsely giggle about, ignoring the butterflies which were nestling in the pit of your stomach. “It’s even better when she’s standing right here, beside me.” 
The entirety of the room buys the staged scene, all except for two people. The first, obviously, is your father. He’s always there, watching that the driver is performing well. He knows of his affair, but in his mind, as long as the affair is kept out of the light, and his marriage was still official, their deal continued. Besides, he would speak to you both sooner rather than later upon extending the family; that would seal both of your fates towards one another. Nobody liked a husband whom left a wife and child. 
The second was Carlos Sainz; the second driver for Scuderia Ferrari. 
The Spaniard was all too aware of the affair between Charles and his mistress; after qualifying from Baku, Carlos had found his teammate behind the garage, his hands with a firm grip on her waist, their kisses entirely formed of tounge and teeth. The man had furiously ripped Charles from the woman, bellowing in his face about the wife he had, whilst this woman warmed his bed. A deep blush had formed over both of their cheeks, Charles explaining that you were aware of his actions. 
Carlos didn’t want to believe it; he’d frantically messaged you that evening, to which you had answered his question, confirming you knew of the affair. That evening, you had revealed everything to him, watching his eyes get glossier as the cruel details were flickered in front of his eyes. It pained him; he’d cared for you since the moment you’d first stepped foot into the paddock alongside your father. His heart shattered upon finding out that you had been betroved to Charles, that he had missed his chance, all that time ago. 
He waits; waits until later in the day to approach you. By this point, you had made yourself comfortable in Charles’ driver room. Of course, your husband isn’t actually there. After a brief encounter with most of the members on his team, he’d excused himself. Carlos knew that he had snuck away from the crowds adorned in red to see his mistress, likely stealing kisses and rough fumbles between one another. Whilst that was happening, you, were sat in his drivers’ room, skirts spread across the soft lounger, eyes engrossed in a book which had been enclosed in your bag alongside your sunglasses.
 You were the epitome of beauty in Carlos’ eyes. He could have stood at the ajar door to the room, watching you as you engrossed yourself in the story. Instead, he offers a light cough, drawing your attention from the book in your lap. He’s engrossed by your eyes, how the light reflected off them, the glow they offered. Your smile, how you presented your real smile to him so naturally, not the one you forged next to your husband on every single encounter. 
“Good morning, Carlos!” You greet him with a bright tone, standing up from your position on the couch. You offer him a hug, feeling his warm arms wrap around your waist, his breath against your face when he kisses your cheek gently. ‘In another life,’ you always tell yourself. One where you were happy, free to marry a man who would return your affection. 
“Good morning, Mariposa.” The nickname rolls of his tongue; one he had presented ever since you had once showed up in the paddock, the most beautiful butterfly-imprinted dress flowing in the soft breeze of that Monaco weekend. “You’re hiding out in here today, yes?” He teases. You offer him a small shrug, eyes not able to meet those sweet brown ones of the man stood in front of you. 
“Charles is…busy.” You finish the sentence abruptly. Carlos knows not to question further; the two of you have a mutual understanding as to where he would be at this point during the day; wrapped up in the arms of another woman. “He’s probably on his track walk…maybe. I’m just…keeping occupied.” You motion towards the window, looking onto the first straight of the track. “Plus…it looks windy out there.” 
“Well…” Carlos invites himself into the room now, looking down at your attire, seeing that your feet were enclosed with the brilliant white trainers you’d left home in that morning. The man shrugs off his own windbreaker, holding it in his arm. “If I give you my jacket, would you like to come on my track walk?” He offers, holding out the garment to you. 
You knew you would probably live to regret that moment. However, if you stayed resting in Charles’ driver room much longer, reading the same line of your book whilst your thoughts trailed away to how he would be with his mistress, you would go crazy.
“I’d love to.” You finally respond, slipping your arms through the large sleeves of Carlos’ jacket. Offering you a pat on the shoulder, he motions towards the exit of the driver’s room, determined to keep you on his side whilst walking across the track loved by fans far and wide. He hopes that everybody misses the longing gazes and soft smile on his face every time you make a comment, or your hands brush a little too closely. 
Charles Leclerc is a neck kisser. 
It’s not as if you would know this. The only kisses you ever had were those for show. Cold, meaningless interactions between somebody who attempted to show unconditional love and one who could dream of being anywhere else in that moment. 
You’d carefully unlatched the front door of the house, your wireless earbuds resting comfortably in your ears, unable to hear any other sound apart from the music playing. Slipping off your shoes, hanging up your jacket; your only intention for the afternoon was to go through some of the notes you had made regarding education courses in the area; sitting at home day after day was truly aggravating. You couldn’t pick up yet another hobby. Maybe some form of learning would interest you. 
But first, you needed a drink to cool yourself off from the sun. You’d remembered the smoothie packs you made earlier in the week; one of those and going through your notes seemed a perfect plan for the current moment. 
The second you rounded the corner into the open-plan kitchen, you wished that you could have taken the scenic route home. 
His mistress was sat up on the kitchen island, back straight, legs wrapped around the waist of your husband, her hands grasping at the soft curls atop of his head. Charles’ hands slid across her back, soft grunts coming from his lips, his mouth leaving open-mouthed kisses along her slender neck. She was loving it, at least, that’s what you could judge from the noises leaving her mouth. 
Before either of them could clock your arrival, both too wrapped-up in their embrace, you’d stepped out of the kitchen, hand over your mouth to silence the sobs which were threatening to escape. In a moment, you’re out of the hallway, letting your feet carry you up the carpeted stairs. 
The only intention now embedded in your mind was to drink so much you would forget the scene unfolding in front of your eyes. 
Charles Leclerc is a slow replier. 
The smell of tequila and sweat is strong in the cramped hallway of the club. It was insane to believe that less than three hours ago, you had been cocooned in your king-size duvet, lips slightly parted as you strung a meaningless thread of text messages to one another; you didn’t truly care how one of your friends felt in that moment, the heartbreak shattering in your chest was stronger than any other emotion you could begin to comprehend. 
No, your sole reason for texting was to leave this god-forsaken house. You kept telling yourself not to care. Charles’ eyes were all you could think about as you picked out your shortest, slinkiest dress; one which enhanced every curve and dip in the most elegant way. Charles’ dimples were all you could think about when your attention was drawn to outlining your lips with a deep red gloss. Charles’ lips were all you could think about, your foot sliding into the black heeled shoe, your feet finding no solace in being propped up within six inches of their life. 
Your friend had messaged you the location of the designated club. How anybody could enjoy one of those places sober was beyond your comprehension. Instead, you had taken the route of every other supposed being in that club; one shot of a suspicious-looking liquid had turned into sixteen – his number, you couldn’t help remembering. That was the reason you had found yourself stood motionlessly in the hallway, trying to navigate yourself back to the bar. At least seventeen wouldn’t have been tied to any other emotion. 
The plan, however, was short-lived when you hear a familiar voice call your name. Turning too quickly in your ridiculous heels, you’re met with the figures of Kelly Piquet and Max Verstappen, hands linked together, clearly nowhere near as intoxicated as you were in that moment. 
Kelly moves first; you had always enjoyed her presence, spending time with her around the Paddock when you were bade to attend. Penelope was one of the sweetest three-year-olds you had ever come across, always greeting you with a toothy grin and a story of her and ‘Maxie’s’ escapades. When her mother encloses you in a hug, you can feel the tears fall, your drunken façade falling immediately. The woman simply cups your hand in her face, delicately wiping the tears from your lash line, making sure to remove any heavy clumps of mascara. She asks you where Charles is, where your husband is. You can’t make any sound which you believe is cohesive, something about him being back at the house.
Max by now, has his own arm resting around your shoulder. You were Charles’ wife, after all. He knew Charles would do the same for Kelly if she was ever to be found in this state. Something strange stabs at his chest; maybe he was too protective, but he would have never of let Kelly get into this state, at least, not on her own. The driver carefully fumbles in his back pocket, unlocking his own device and filing through his contacts to phone Charles. 
The phone goes straight to voicemail, not even a dialling tone. Max tries a second time, a third time. Instead, he leaves messages. How on gods earth did Charles feel relaxed, knowing his wife would be out, probably on some form of alcohol, and not think to check that she would be safe returning home? If only he knew. 
The duo moves to a second plan. You needed some fresh air before they could attempt to get you into a car and take you home; standing in the corridor of a nightclub was not an ideal situation, instead moving you to the exit. Your eyes widen, looking up to Max and Kelly as if you had shrunk right down to Penelope’s age, as if they would be the saviours to get you home. By the way Max was holding you by his side and Kelly stroking your hair behind your ears, you may as well been their daughter. 
Conversations are had; neither of them is sober enough to drive you home, nor do they think it’s wise to try and sneak you into their hotel room when they had already issues when checking in a little too late. Their prayers are answered when a group of men wander past, one of them stopping to smack Max, his fellow driver on the back. His dark eyes, ones you know so well, widen when he sees your figure, looking so fragile in the light of the early hours in the city. 
“Mariposa.” He murmurs, running a hand across your cheek, wanting nothing more than to hold your frame against his chest. Your soft eyes meet his own dark ones, glossed in concern for how on earth you could do this to yourself. The man murmurs something to Max and Kelly, ensuring them that he’d been the sober friend out of his group; promising he would get you home himself. The duo has no reason to not trust him, both of them leaving a gentle kiss on your cheek before retiring to their own hotel. 
As the couple walk away from the club, you can only feel the warmth of Carlos’ hand, still resting on your face. When he at last turns his attention back to you, he simply wraps a strong arm around your waist, supporting you to stand in those awful, heeled shoes. At the pace you’re walking back towards his car, you would get there just after the sunrise. Instead, he scroops you into his grasp. 
The affection, the physical contact is all too much for you. It had been so, so long since anybody had held you, cared for you like this. Your clouded mind, now overwhelmed by warmth and alcohol allowed you to lean your head into Carlos’ sturdy chest. If you were sober, you’d be able to feel the way his heart raced when feeling you rest against him. 
“Why do you do this to yourself, Mariposa?” He murmurs, settling you into the passenger seat of his car. He can’t help but remove his own jacket, wrapping the soft fabric around your arms, letting you nuzzle into the scent of his fabric softener and aftershave. Once settling himself into the driving seat, he begins the route back to the house, one hand gently resting atop of your leg, some form of comfort for the world in your mind which seemed to be caving in. 
“I’d never do this to you.” He whispers, turning into the driveway that he had become accustomed to since the marriage. 
Across the city, Max Verstappen is sound asleep. His phone, plugged in on the dressing table across the room buzzes once, notifying a text from his racing rival. 
03:21: Charles Leclerc
Hey, sorry, was busy with something. Is everything good?
Charles Leclerc is a traveller.
You hadn’t expected anything to awaken you after the way your body had reacted to the previous night. A natural awakening, however, would have been a lot nicer than hearing the clicking sound of wheels against flooring. Whatever, whoever was outside of your room most certainly had a death wish to awaken you that morning. 
It felt as if pins had been pressed into every square inch of your head, the task of even sitting up and forcing yourself towards the door of your bedroom, still dressed in your slinky garment and…somebody’s jacket? The night for you had truly ended as soon as you had that ninth shot of tequila; you thought you could remember Max and Kelly in the same location at some point, maybe that was your mind playing tricks on you, longing for people who enjoyed your company. 
You were pulled back to the present when the figure of your husband appears at your doorway. He’s dressed already; loose hoodie and tracksuit bottoms cover his frame; his hand is clasping tightly onto a suitcase. There wasn’t a Grand Prix this weekend, you were certain. He would have left days ago for that. There was-
“I’m going to stay with…” He pauses, clearly trying to think of the correct way to word the fact he would be staying with his Mistress until further notice. Even in your state, you understand, simply raising your hand to stop him from speaking. You didn’t want to hear her name, you didn’t want to know that he would be spending the next nights wrapped in her arms, because for once…you didn’t care. 
They say alcohol causes dangerous mistakes, but in this moment, your hangover seemed to be your best friend. Every single time, you would think later, Charles would come back from seeing her, would leave to spend an evening by her side or sneak away during your paddock appearances…and you would be focused, your sole attention being on when he would return. Now? Your sole focus was on throwing up the remains of alcohol in your stomach, placing on a facemask and ordering some kind of comfort food to your home. 
You didn’t care about him, not right now. Your actions relay this, simply offering him a nod before speaking, your voice surprisingly clear for how much your throat was weeping for a drink.
“Okay.” You pause. There’s nothing left to say after that. What does he want you to do? Wish him a happy time? Charles looks equally taken aback, usually expecting some kind of warm drabble on how he needed to stay safe. In that moment, he can’t help but…want it.
“I’ll be back on Wednesday to pack for Singapore.” He pauses this time, taking in your appearance, your face so…gentle, soothing. “You’re coming, yes?” He remembers a conversation had many a time; his wife should be there to support him as much as possible, even if he wasn’t a fan of the sly ways he would have to leave her in front of his team members.
He isn’t expecting a shrug of the shoulders, bringing a hand up to rest on the door, clearly ready to close it at any given moment. 
“I’m not sure.” You offer him, sighing as you begin to close the door yourself. “My father said that race isn’t a priority.” That was the last sentence you offered him before closing the door. You obviously do not see it, but on the other side of the wall, Charles stands in confusion for a full twenty seconds before snapping back to his reality, his clutch on the suitcase a little tighter as he begins his decent down the stairs, wondering where on earth he had seen that jacket you were wearing before?
Your own priorities that morning was in full swing; you had placed your phone on charge, messages beginning to thread through as you stepped into the shower, the cool water savouring your skin. A fluffy robe is tied around your waist, brushing your hair around your back whilst your attention focused on rehydrating your skin, brushing your teeth and cleaning the dirt from underneath your eyes. 
The silence is strong when you walk back into your bedroom. In that moment, you opt for some music whilst changing into some comfortable loungewear, easy to roam around the house in and let your hair dry naturally. Sitting at the end of the bed, you’re able to check notifications, seeing Kelly had sent you a photo of Penelope that morning, smiling for her favourite aunt. You see your most recent text had come through from none other than Charles’ teammate, following one which had been sent early that morning. 
03:45: Carlos Sainz
Sweet dreams, Mariposa. Let me know if you need anything please. 
11:51: Carlos Sainz
Just seen on Twitter Charles is at the airport, he’s not off to see her, is he?
His message brings so many emotions to you, and also answers the question of who’s jacket you had been wearing that morning. Your heart can’t help but soften, knowing already that Charles is on his way to see...her. You think back to your mindset from earlier, how it was the last thing you wanted to care about. Why on earth would you care about them, when you could be focusing on ordering your favourite food and calling your nail technician to come to the house? That would make you feel better, better than he ever had.
You first drop a message to Carlos in response, wanting to let him know you had woken up from potential alcohol poisoning. 
12:25: You
Yeah, he is. Didn’t seem so happy that I couldn’t care less. Thank you for the jacket last night, I hope you had a good evening. 
12:28: Carlos Sainz
All the better for seeing you. Hoping the hangover isn’t too bad today. 
The messages spring backwards and forwards between the two of you for the afternoon; you’re smiling whilst you go through your favourite meal, the taste of it filling your mouth in the best way possible. There’s still a smile on your face when your nail technician arrives, painting some delicate designs into your fingers and toes, subtly asking who on earth has you smiling that much.
It isn’t until that evening; you’re sat in front of the television, a series you had watched one-too many times playing, your eyes glued to the storyline as if it would change again. The notification on your phone instantly drew your attention away from the screen, looking down to see a text on your screen.
21:03: Carlos Sainz
Why don’t you come and stay in Madrid for a few days? I’m sure we could both do with the company.
Charles Leclerc is a stalker. 
Well, maybe stalker was too strong of a word. However, his intentions were identical, having watched your latest Instagram story three- no, four times. Since leaving the home several days earlier, his mind could not stop thinking about the fact you truly could not care less about where he was going. This wasn’t you, was it? 
He’d arrived at her house, being temporarily distracted by luring himself into her bedroom, an afternoon of escapades and touches until she had rolled onto her side, telling him she was going to shower, and he would be more than welcome to join her. Instead, he pulled out his phone, seeing if you had done your usual; texting him to check that he had arrived safely, asking when he could be coming back to the house. 
There’s no messages, no notifications. Huffing to himself, Charles instead pulls up your Instagram, seeing that you had posted a new story that evening, a suitcase in hand, an emoji of an aircraft and a Spanish flag. You were off somewhere, and hadn’t told him? No, no. You always told him where you were going, you always-
“Are you not joining me, then?” Charles’ mistress’ voice suddenly draws him out of his trance, a towel wrapped around her body, hair around her shoulders. It was nowhere near as soft and as gentle as yours was, he realised in that moment. He eventually nods, pulling himself from his phone and following her into the en-suite. 
He’s so…distant for the remainder of his visit. When the two of them go to a secluded spot for lunch, when they go for a drive in a car they had hired for the afternoon. When she’s lazily pressing kisses along his neck, trying to grind into his crotch, desperate for his attention. When she finally falls asleep, Charles pulls out his phone, looking through any of the photos you had posted from that day. The soft sands of the beach, a hugestrawberry ice-cream cone, a mirrored selfie of yourself in the most beautiful sundress, hair curled and clearly ready for an evening in the Spanish sun. 
The routine continues, he sees your adventures, day after day. You’re touring small markets, trying local delicacies. One day, you’re simply lounging by a pool for the afternoon, a fat paperback resting on your stomach, clearly engrossed by the story which was resting on your stomach. Each time he sees a post, he can’t help but be drawn to how he wants to know how you’re doing. Maybe that’s why he drops you a text message, trying to gain some sort of traction from how you were doing. 
23:54: Charles Leclerc
Are you home? I’ve got a flight tomorrow afternoon.
You don’t respond; now, your phone is at the bottom of your bag, resting on the inside cabin of Carlos’ boat. For your final day in Madrid, he had insisted on taking you for a boat ride. You’d shyly mentioned earlier in that week that Charles had never taken you on his own boat, despite the fact that you were indeed married. 
The sun began to set over the rolling waves of the ocean; the boat is gently rocking, the sounds of water lapping over one another was music to your ears. You were sat at the edge of the now stilled boat, contemplating dipping your toes into the water. Your attention is so drawn to the scenery that you don’t hear him step away from the wheel, crouching next to you. 
“You could just go in.” He teases, “rather than staring at the water. You know how to swim.” The taunt causes you to roll your eyes, simply looking to the Spaniard on your right-hand side. 
“What? And have you speed off without me?” You retaliate, using your shoulder to nudge his body. Carlos clicks his lips together, mumbling something incoherent, before he’s suddenly scooped you up into your arms; despite your sounds of protests, he simply holds you against his chest tighter. His dark eyes flicker between yours and the ocean water below the two of you. Before you can say anything, his feet have made their own choice, jumping off the edge of the boat, both of you tumbling into the sea. Your briefly submerged entirely, before your head pops out of the waves, blindly reaching around until two strong arms encircle your waist. 
Both you and Carlos laugh for a moment, in pure awe that you just did that. He moves first, one of his hands releasing from your waist, tucking a strand of wet hair behind your ear. There’s a silence between the two of you, where the only sound emitting from your surroundings is the gentle waves of the sea. In that moment, Carlos Sainz wants nothing more than to lean forward, pressing his lips to your own. They look so…soft. He craves to give them the attention they had been longing for so long. But…you’re married. And even if your marriage is loveless, to a point where your husband is openly in an affair, he would never do that to you. Instead, he settles for resting one hand on your cheek, gently kissing the top of your forehead, murmuring some Spanish wording you would never remember. 
If you did understand it, however, you would have known that he said there and then that he would always be devoted to you. 
Charles Leclerc is a loud shouter. 
His voice seemed to travel for miles, you were almost certain the entirety of the secluded neighbourhood could hear him at this current moment. The man had returned home from his secluded stay with his mistress to an empty house; at that point, you were still in the depths of Madrid, packing up your own suitcase, wishing Carlos luck on the Singapore Grand Prix. You had intended to return to the house after Charles had left himself; the heartbreak of seeing him littered in love-bites, his eyes transfixed to his phone from her messages was too much for you.
However, if you had been at the house when he had arrived home, you would have seen his neck clear, phone shoved into his back pocket as he called out your name, wondering if you had returned home yourself. Charles notices your trainers haven’t been left on the shoe rack; there’s no music to signify your afternoon relaxation. A light knock to the door of your room signifies there’s nobody home. The house feels empty. 
Maybe, Charles Leclerc was beginning to understand how you felt. 
His first instinct is to message you. Surely, you would have seen his text from his previous message by now; what would it hurt to check in once more. The man feels against his rough jean pocket for the device, swiping away from the multiple notifications from his mistress, instead scrolling to your contact’s name, seeing you hadn’t been active in almost twelve hours. You hadn’t even opened his message. 
His thumb hovers above the keyboard, not entirely sure what to say in this situation. Instead, he opts to call your number instead; you had always picked up to him; whenever he needed you to stay away from the house, or to remind you to be ready to leave at a certain time. The phone rings once. Twice. Three times. On the fourth ring, your voicemail comes through the speaker, signifying him that you were too busy to pick up the telephone. 
Charles didn’t grow concerned during the evening; he grew angry. You were his wife. You were supposed to be at the house to greet him, to welcome him with open arms, ask about his day. Even if…even if he had chosen to ignore your welcoming’s and kind heart for over a year. The man found a distraction in going through the information that Scuderia Ferrari had sent him for his journey tomorrow, making sure his passport was in the correct place. He hadn’t needed to pack; you had made sure to do that for him before your own departure, making sure his comfortable clothes were packed and sunglasses safely secured in the pouches of the case. 
It was late, late for you when the door finally opened, signalling the arrival of a second being. Charles immediately sits up from his slouched position on the couch, stepping up from the sofa, almost ready to give you a piece of his mind. Upon reaching the hallway, he sees you, slipping off your trainers, leaving the suitcase next to the front door. Even underneath your jumper, he can see your skin is glowing from the Mediterranean sun, yet your eyes are watering, tears leaking from your lower lash line. 
“Where on earth have you been?” He snaps, not actually wanting to hear an answer. You open your mouth to respond, but the man cuts you off before you can speak. “I am your husband. You’re supposed to wait for me!” His temper is getting the better of him, green eyes flickering with anger. 
At this point, you’re exhausted, overwhelmed from the news you had received on your drive home, and for this man to question your loyalties to your marriage? You can’t help the scoff which falls from your lips, the emotions building a little too much.
“You’re my husband?” You mock in confusion. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realise my husband was around at long last, not wrapped in the arms of another woman!” Your temper flares, pushing your hair behind your shoulders, grasping the suitcase to take upstairs and repack. 
“You didn’t pick up your phone once.” Charles retaliates. Oh, the cheek of-
“Like when you pick up your phone when I call?” The tears are beginning to flow freely now, wanting nothing more than to get upstairs and completely ignore what has been happening. “You don’t Charles. You’ve done nothing to show that you’re my husband in the past twelve months!” You can’t help yourself now. Instead of seeking the new suitcase, you simply turn around on the step of the front door, slipping your trainers back onto your feet. 
“Where are you going?” His voice is now laced in concern; you couldn’t leave yet, surely? You’d only just returned; you wouldn’t be safe to drive in this condition. Why on earth did he care now? His question is answered, but not in the way he desired. 
“Like you would care.” It’s the last thing you say before the door to the house is slammed shut. 
Charles Leclerc is an investigator. 
When arriving in the Ferrari Garage of Singapore, there’s already an eerie feeling through the air; there are no smiles, sympathising looks thrown towards the back end of the garage. The driver isn’t stupid, he knows something must be wrong. He’s unsure of who to ask; who would know what is going on? 
His original plan was to ask Xavi, maybe during their morning briefing, until he is told that his flight has been delayed and wouldn’t be there until the late afternoon. Eventually, he spots his racing partner, nestled in the corner of the garage, his eyes flickering across his own phone screen, rapidly typing a message to somebody he would rather not admit to. 
“Hey.” He speaks softly, not wanting to startle the man. Silently, Carlos looks up from his device, offering his teammate a small nod, not wanting to prolapse the eye contact for too long. Charles can sense he knows what has happened, eyes narrowing in confusion. “Why is everybody so…quiet?” 
The look on Carlos’ face signifies he’s said something wrong. His eyes darken, shaking his head in disappointment rather than fury. It correlates to the kind of look his father would give him during a long talk, when he had broken something and not admitted to it. The Spaniard isn’t sure he should even tell his teammate what had happened. Instead, he changes his phone application to the Emails App, handing the device over to Charles. His eyes flicker across the screen, taking in the information. 
Ferrari’s biggest benefactor, your father, would not be attending the race weekend after the untimely death of his wife. Your mother. It suddenly correlates; how the night before, you had seemed inconsolable, despite the fact you had obviously had an incredible vacation. You’d tried to simply walk away, to let yourself grieve without bothering him. Instead, you had found comfort in Carlos as he had driven you to the airport, whispering sweet words of comfort, promising that everything was going to be okay. 
Charles feels his blood run cold, he feels sick. The look on the man stood in front of him tells him enough; he had made the biggest mistake of his life. Murmuring an excuse, he leaves the garage, stepping to the secluded back area, the realisation that he is everything his mother never wanted him to be, hitting hard. He still had the ability to run to her, to ask for her advice. You didn’t have that anymore. You didn’t have anybody, least of all your husband. 
The first thing he does in that moment, is pull out his phone, scrolling to the contact of his mistress.
10:09: Charles Leclerc
We need to talk. 
Charles Leclerc is a phone call away.
The past day had been filled of tears, clinging to your father, to your younger siblings, to your elder cousins. How on earth your mother had left this world early was beyond you. It wasn’t fair. Nothing was fair. Your mother was the one whom had been your rock for the past miserable year of your marriage. If not for her, you were almost certain that you would have thrown your silvery key to the house down a drain so long ago.
Without her guidance, without her tutoring, you felt like bird trying to fly individually for the first time; surrounded by fears and almost certain you’d fall into compromising position. 
You hadn’t rested. Not since you had arrived at the bleak family home. As customed, every curtain was drawn close, doors to each room sealed, no natural light emitting to the large house, making every shadow and crook of the building seem more terrifying. Eventually, your father had retired to his own bedroom, your younger siblings tucked into their beds, butterfly kisses pressed against their foreheads, a silent promise you were only down the hall if they so desired you. 
The bedroom you had grown up in remained almost identical to the one you had painted in your mind; pale pink wallpaper, a luxury bed lined with a rosebud-patterned quilt set. The vanity you had last used to get ready on your wedding day remained pristine, the perfumes and scents which had been your favourite still sitting atop of your shelf. And the photographs. A polaroid of your two closest friends from your childhood; one of your sisters on her christening day, the entire family dressed so elegantly; Charles is in that photograph, off to the side alongside his brothers; you had no idea there and then that boy with the ocean eyes would become your estranged husband. 
You could have continued going down memory lane, if not from the buzzing which was coming from your bed. The phone you had carelessly thrown atop of the blankets when first entering the room had finally got some service, a thread of text messages and missed phone calls beginning to filter through. Silently, you take a seat on the edge of your bed, eyes flickering across each message. Some are from members of the Ferrari team, others from family members you hadn’t heard from in what felt like centuries. 
There’s one. One from the man whom you had spent the previous week with. The one who had consoled you whilst travelling to the family home. Your husband’s teammate. 
23:05: Carlos Sainz
Mariposa, please let me know how you are doing. I’m so worried about you. Let me know if you need anything at all. 
23:31: You
Thank you, C. I should be heading home tomorrow, with a bit of luck I’ll be able to swing by and say hello. 
You hadn’t expected anything else that evening. You were settled, ready to focus on yourself for the remainder of the evening; in your eyes, there was a high likelihood that your siblings would be burrowing into your blankets later. Once dressed in nightwear, the makeup that had stained your cheeks removed, you noticed the soft glow of your phone screen. Another message had just been received, and in your wildest dreams, you could not have imagined whom it was from.
00:24: Charles Leclerc
I heard about your mother this afternoon; I am truly so, so sorry for your loss. Please let me know if there is anything I can do. I mean it. 
Your eyes had barely had time to view the message which had just been received, before your phone screen changes, taking the message away from your sight. The message thread is replaced by a photograph of your husband, his name lighting up on you phone screen. You don’t even think; instead, your thumb swipes across the screen, pressing the green button and holding the device to your ear. 
“Charles.” You speak one word, hearing your husband visibly relax on the other end of the line. You realise it’s the first time you’ve said anything coherent in hours; the tone of your voices echoes around the room. Did you always sound that sad when you spoke to him?
“Hey.” He isn’t too sure what he wants to say; the lack of conversation between the two of you means he isn’t aware if there are any boundaries, anything you wouldn’t discuss with him. No, he just wanted to speak to you, to check in. In reality, he had realised how lonely the house was as an individual. His mistress was gone from his contacts, not inviting her around to fill the void had made him realise how you had felt for oh-so-long. 
“How…” He pauses, not sure on how to finish his question. He doesn’t need to, because despite the lack of understanding of one another, you know he’s trying, trying to make you feel better.
“I’m…yeah.” You can’t find the correct words to say; ‘sad’ is an understatement, ‘fine’ is a rude response. Neither of you can find the words, but in that moment, you crave somebody who isn’t mourning the loss of your mother as heavily as you are. 
“We have some new neighbours.” He’s trying to find anything to create some conversation. It’s almost as if he knows the quiet of the room is making you feel uncomfortable. “They left us an invitation to join them for a tennis session- not that I’m any good.” He laughs to himself, remembering the previous time he’d attended a tennis game alongside his fellow drivers; he’d had to step out after a few minutes, completely terrified he would end up breaking his hand. 
He doesn’t hear anything from the other side of the line but continues to talk. “Are you…” He catches himself for a moment. “Are you coming back soon?” His voice turns into barely a whisper, as if saying the wrong thing will cause you to hang up immediately. He doesn’t hear anything for a moment, taking a gentle sigh and awaiting your response. 
“Yeah.” You pause. Are you doing this? Are you having a conversation with your husband? “I’m going to fly home tomorrow afternoon. I think my father wants space.” Your sentence closes, looking around your room. The silence is deathly; in that moment, you don’t care about everything that’s happened. All you want is for somebody to hold you in their arms and tell you it would be okay. 
“I’ll come and get you.” Charles has spoken before his mouth has had time to catch his brain. Your eyebrows quirk in confusion. The only time your estranged husband ever drove you himself was on your endless journeys to races; you would sit silently, curled away from his figure, eyes transfixed as the world passed by around you. The man not only offering but wanting to pick you up from the airport was a new-found curiosity. 
“It’s okay.” You don’t let him continue. If previous standings have taught you anything, it’s that behind those mesmerising eyes cannot be trusted. You knew the secrets that lied beyond the ocean settled in his eye. “I wouldn’t want to interrupt you.” Part of your heart is craving to bring up his mistress; how she would probably be warming his bed in the current moment, walking around the house which you ached to find comfort in. 
“You wouldn’t.” Charles is quick to respond; in his heart of heart, he knows getting you to trust him again would be a monumental task. He’d do anything to prove he would be the husband who would look after you. Who would love you unconditionally; the husband you deserved.
“I’ll let you know when I’ve landed, okay?” It’s your final compromise. The woman whom you had been twelve months ago would love nothing more than to run into Charles’ arms; whether he cared for you the way you did; you would always desire his attention and affection. You’d had to learn through the months that some of life’s biggest temptations had to remain untouched.  
Charles Leclerc is your husband.
Landing back in the country was almost eerie; despite being away for only a miniscule amount of time, you felt changed; changed by the loss of your closest companion, changed by the fact your husband had been the one to call you, and not to throw some crazy request down the telephone line. 
Arrivals, as always, were completely smothered; couples reuniting, children screaming at the sudden change of scenery. After obtaining your own bag, your eyes flicker through the never-ending crowds, desperate to find some recognition. 
Standing apart from the crowd, looking effortlessly rugged in his athletic shorts and hoodie, hair pushed underneath a snapback. His eyes are trained on you, as if he had sensed your presence into the room in less than a moment. The breath catches in the back of your dried throat, a pair of eyes that you trusted undoubtedly. Stumbling, your feet carry you over to the arms of your favourite Spaniard, your head instantly finding solace in the joint between his shoulder and neck, the cologne you were used to from his attendances around the paddock creating a cloud of comfort. 
Carlos’ hands effortlessly lock around your torso, pulling you tighter into his chest, one palm rubbing up and down your back. It was the first time, the first time in a long time that anybody had offered you this sort of affection. Mindlessly, the soft tears begin to pool at the bottom of your lash line. Soft snuffles emitting from your lips cause the man to hush you gently, pulling your face away from his body, cradling your head between his larger hands. 
He mumbles something quietly, something about taking you back to the house. If it was him, the man would bundle you into his car and drive to his own home. He’d nestle you under his bedroom blankets, dress you in one of his hoodies. Instead, his rough palm finds your soft fingers, intertwining your hands together. Carlos takes your suitcase in his free hand, guiding you to his car parked outside of the airport. 
Not much is said during the shortening journey back to the house; the tears glossing your eyes reflect the streetlights, transfixed on the roads which you had left for a few short days. The tears will continue to fall; her loss had taken a part of you that you would you never thought would return. The man to your right, eyes focused on the road can sense your heartbreak. He doesn’t wait to push you; he had spoken to you shortly after the news had originally broken, in that conversation, you had barely been able to say ten words before your voice cracked. Instead, Carlos rests a warm hand on your leg, a silent promise that he will be there no matter what. 
The journey feels too short; eventually the driveway to the house rolls into sight, Carlos slowing down the car. When it comes to a halt, he steps out immediately, obtaining your suitcase from the rear of the car, placing it down on the wheels. By this point, you’d wiggled from the seat, ready to wheel your case into the house. However, before you can move, his arms engulf you once more, clinging so tightly, your feet began to lift from the floor. You had clung back just as tight, pressing a kiss to his stubbled cheek; a silent ‘Thank you,’ for everything. 
The embrace ended, Carlos awaiting until the door had unlocked, nodding when he saw you safely enter the house. The building is practically silent; no television sounds, no gentle music, not even the whirr of Charles’ simulator in his downstairs office. Ears pricked, you could hear the jets of a shower from upstairs, the assumption that he must have been in the shower. Paranoia threads your mind, she wouldn’t be showering alongside, would she?
You don’t let your mind wander; instead, you focus on lugging the suitcase along the staircase, silently glad you had gotten further with it since your trip to Madrid. Beelining towards your room, the suitcase rolls behind you, resting it in the corner of the room, a silent promise you’d wash everything tomorrow. However, a delicate bouquet of soft, pink and fresh flowers decorated the vanity of the room; you knew you hadn’t bought flowers since Madrid, and these…They looked as if they’d been placed mere minutes ago. 
Overthinking had always been dangerous; instead, you keep yourself busy, wiggling your skincare bag from the suitcase, padding into your bathroom with that and a fresh set of long pyjamas; the late-night breeze had begun to tickle your skin since removing yourself from Carlos’ warm arms. The relish indulges your body, shampoo trickling through your hair, body wash bubbles tickling your body. You’d stepped out a few moments later, changing into the soft clothing, sitting in front of the mirror, brushing your hair out as carefully as you could have. 
Silently, your feet carry you from the en-suite towards the main bedroom. Standing at the head of the doorway, is none other than your husband, hair own hair damp from his shower, dressed in soft tracksuit bottoms and a tight tee-shirt. He’d seen your suitcase nestling in the corner of your bedroom, your phone had rumpled the blankets of your bed. Charles had been the one to hear the shower this time, deciding to wait, just to see your soft eyes.
They’re bloodshot; you look so…frail. The years of heartbreak littered across your face. Charles’ heart practically breaks; before you can say a word, he’s across the room, arms pulling around your torso, pulling your head under his chest. Your instinct tells you to fight it, why on earth would you accept some form of affection from a husband who had openly destined you for so long? 
And yet, you subcome to his affection, hesitantly holding your own arms to his chest. His scent, his warmth.You felt as if you were dreaming, eyes wet from the overwhelming care, feeling gentle kisses press to the top of your head. 
You don’t remember when Charles scooped you to his chest, tucking you into your fresh blankets before nestling in behind you himself. You remind yourself; this is a one-off. You’re almost certain that by tomorrow, he’ll be back in the arms of his mistress, your moment tonight will be an absent moment to your husband. You’ll take it; if it’s one night in his arms, feeling his breath against the back of your neck, tip of his nose pressing into your back, one hand pressed against your stomach in comfort, you’ll take it. 
Some point during the night, your phone buzzes, the sound barely audible on the blankets of your bed. You groan slightly, the bubble of yourself and Charles giving you a true form of sanctuary, a true form of home. Curiosity in the night takes the better of you, lifting the dying device to your eyes, slightly blinded by the glow of the screen. 
Despite being wrapped in the arms of your husband; you can feel your blood turn cold when you read the one sentence which had been left for you to find. 
01:46: Carlos Sainz
I’m in love with you. 
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abbyromanoff · 5 months
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Hey love ur fics so muchhh was wondering if u could write a fic about g!p wanda and innocent fem reader, corruption kink ofcc. Reader hasn't even had her first kiss and Wanda teaches her how to tongue kiss and so much more(just v penetration no anal). Heavy breeding kink as well plsss
FOLLOW MY LEAD
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PAIRINGS: Wanda Maximoff x reader
WORD COUNT: 3,750
WARNINGS: smut, corruption kink, older!Wanda, innocence kink, breeding kink, Wanda has a dick, making out, kinda slow burn, age gap (legal), best friends mom!Wanda, sex in a pool, degrading, praise kink, cunnilingus, Mommy (W), mentions of masturbation and failed masturbation, some angst and fluff, think that’s all :)
NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN!!
Wanda watched with a smile as you licked the icing off of the cupcake she had given you. She had been inviting you over for weeks now and it’s been getting all the more difficult to ignore you. You were best friends with her twin boys and had been for a few years so them leaving for college wasn’t easy. They were both traveling across the state to study while you chose to stay back in your home region, Wanda couldn’t have been happier with your choice. You didn’t have many friends to spend time with in your lonely hours and the mother next door pitied you for it, or at least that’s what you thought.
In reality, she had been harboring a growing attraction towards you for months now. You never really saw her beforehand, she was often times on business trips or working at her home office during her children’s teen years. But you didn’t mind, she wasn’t the reason you spent so much time with Tommy and Billy, but now she was the only reason you had to visit the house you called home for so many years.
“The oven will be going off in just a moment, do you mind taking it out while I head to the bathroom?” You complied and she sent you a grateful smile along with a quick peck to your head that caused redness to paint your cheeks. Ever since your friends left you, you’ve been forced to notice all the moments you shared with the woman. She was beautiful, that was a fact. But not only did she bless you with her looks, she also was the only one who ever made you feel so safe and welcome. You couldn’t understand what you felt towards her, after all, she’s a woman, and you’ve never felt this way for the same gender.
All your life you were told to marry a man someday, to love him dearly and bear his children, but the more time you spent with her the more you realized that wasn’t what you wanted. You spent nights dreaming of her in many ways you wished you didn’t. There were times you’d be woken to a dampness on your panties when your consciousness blessed you with the images of her on top of you, kissing down your body before it ended. You just wanted to know what would happen next, and you were often left daydreaming about how it would go. It only brought a further amount of aching, but you didn’t know how to get rid of it. You were too afraid to do research so you suffered alone, praying that it would go away soon enough but it never did. No amount of praying or hoping could stop your needs.
Wanda was just as bad, only she knew ways to ease the ache. Nights were spent in her bed, alone, wishing you were next to her. She imagined waking up next to you, kissing across your face to wake you up. You’d toss and turn just a bit before opening your eyes and shining your adorable smile in her face. She’d kiss you with love before it became deeper, then she’d go just a bit lower and kiss your neck. She’d relish in your soft moans that nobody had ever had the privilege of hearing besides her. Then she’d drag her hand down your body delicately, teasing your hardened nipples before dipping lower and reaching the waistband of your pajamas. She’d dip her fingertips inside after hearing your small pleads and would gently rub your clit in small circles, letting you feel her length against your thigh. She would be aching, her tip drooling as she used one hand to stroke herself slowly, allowing both of your sounds of pleasure to echo throughout the room. You’d beg around her, feeling her fingers reach that soft spot deep inside of you and focusing on the tightness in your stomach. She’d pull your shorts lower along with hers, giving you permission to let go as she rubbed her cock against your folds, releasing her cum across your skin. You’d beg for more in that sweet tone, and she’d have no choice but to say yes.
Her thoughts of you plagued her mind throughout the day and with no one else to help her, she was stuck taking care of her needs alone. Her hand would wrap around her length, stroking slowly just like she did in her dreams, only this time it was you doing it. She’d call out your name while picturing you beneath her on your knees, staring up at her with a gentle gaze as she instructed you on what to do. She knew you were all alone as well, no one to help ease your wetness in the ways she wished to do. Only if you’d give in, only if you’d notice her lingering gazes and finally leaned up when she kissed your forehead, causing her lips to join yours. If only she had you in all the ways she wanted.
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Wanda washed her hands in the sink before dabbing the water onto her face, looking at herself through the mirror with shame. You were still so young, so naive, it would be wrong to take that from you, but she wanted to so badly. She wanted to be the reason you smiled, the reason you could genuinely be yourself. She wanted to be the one who listened to your rambles about what others found stupid, but she could never think such a thing. Anyone would be lucky even to be blessed by your presence, she wasn’t going to lose that. She knew she had to make a move soon or she’d risk the chance of losing you without even having you.
She looked down, noticing her slightly hardened length was peaking through her jeans. She cursed to herself and tried to adjust it well enough to hide. Usually, she could keep it hidden from you, but this pair of pants seemed to not want to work with her. She was hoping you wouldn’t notice, but the moment she stepped into the kitchen and saw your gaze fall for a split second, she knew you knew. She could sense it from the small gulp you let out, your back instantly turning to face her as you made the excuse of mixing more icing. You were celebrating the return of the twins for the summer and she asked for your help, knowing how much you loved baking especially with her. She also used it as an excuse to see you again, just like she did every time she saw you.
She gained the courage to step behind you, lightly brushing her crotch against your bottom as she leaned over you. She sniffed the air filled with the smell of funfetti mix, it had always been the boy's favorite even well into their teen years.
“Well, doesn’t that smell absolutely divine?” She leaned her chin on top of your head as you hummed, too afraid to talk as you knew you’d let out something embarrassing with the way she felt against you. Your hands trembled ever so slightly as she placed her hand on your waist, using it as a hold as she reached for the spatula not far away.
“Did you bring your bathing suit, sweetheart?” She asked, receiving a small nod from your end as you reached for the object in her hand.
“Good girl. The pool is finally all cleaned thanks to your help, it’s only fair you get to be the first to test it out with me.” With her. Meaning she’d also be in a bathing suit, showing off her curves that you found so enticing. You feared how you’d act around her, even if you thought you were well at hiding it.
“Uhm, yeah. Yeah, sure.”
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The decorating process continued to flow easily with much teasing from Wanda’s end, curse her body language. She was a very touchy person, that was well-known to you. You didn’t think it was all that special, until you noticed the fact that she’d only ever share a handshake between her closest friends. Was there something different about you?
You worried she just saw you as a daughter figure knowing how you were often neglected by your own parents. You didn’t want her to see you as a child anymore because you weren’t, you were a nineteen-year-old who was more than capable of handling things on their own. But what if she didn’t think that? What if she saw you in the ways everyone else around you did?
“Y/N? Earth to Y/N?” She called out, breaking you out of your trance as you blinked a few times. You were met with her soft smile in return, the same one that brought butterflies to your stomach.
“Is everything alright, dear? You looked a little sad there.” You sighed before giving a small nod, only ending up in an even deeper frown from the older woman. She was now dressed in her bathing suit, a bikini top along with swim shorts, even the simplest outfit sent you in spirals. You were currently covering yourself with a towel, your legs and shoulders being the only thing Wanda was able to see, but even that was enough to send her thoughts to places she wished they wouldn’t go.
“Oh, I’m fine, Miss. You- you look really beautiful.” You wanted to slap yourself for letting those words out, but it brought a blush to her cheeks, that was all you could’ve hoped for.
“First off, there’s no need to call me Miss, I believe we’re way past that point. And second of all, I appreciate it, dear, I haven’t worn these in years so I’m surprised they still fit.” She chuckled and looked down, hearing small sounds of your feet colliding with the floor as you came closer.
“Well, maybe you should wear it more often, I’m sure you’d catch a lot of attention.” But she wanted yours. She only wanted your attention, she couldn’t care about anyone else’s. Not when you stood there so perfectly without even realizing it. She’d make you see it. She’d make you see the beauty that shined throughout you.
“And why is that?”
“Like I said, you’re very beautiful, Wanda. Pregnancies affect all bodies, even years after. But, personally, I see them as signs of life. I wouldn’t have my best friends if it wasn’t for you, so I find every sign of that very, very pretty. I just wish everyone saw it that way, especially you.” You trailed off with a shrug, seeing her eyes light up with every sentence. You were never good at giving compliments, but with her, it seemed to flow with ease. You knew she deserved to hear them as you could tell no one spoke so highly of her often. You didn’t understand how, one glance from her could send anyone to their knees, but everyone seemed to be too afraid to say it to the highly-ranked businesswoman. Even you were nervous to say it around her, but her response always helped release that fear.
“I- thank you, Y/N. Nobody has ever spoken so highly of me.” She felt so vulnerable in the moment, where did things change? Only minutes ago she was teasing you relentlessly, now here she was with her heart swarming from your welcoming smile.
“You don’t need to thank me for being honest.” She nodded softly, wishing she could cling onto this moment forever. You were only feeding into her lust, forcing her to want more when she didn’t believe that was possible.
“What do you say about some lemonade, yeah? You can head outside and I’ll be out in just a minute with our drinks.” You complied and opened the screen door, giving one last glance before removing the towel placed over your shoulders. Wanda bit her lip as she eyed your figure, her gaze falling onto your bottoms. You wore a bikini, showing off every curve you stored that she had dreamed of. You were even more pleasing to the eye than she knew of.
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“Here you are, darling,” She handed you the cold glass as you swam to the edge of the pool, your sunglasses resting on top of your head and tangling with your wet hair.
“How’s the water?”
“It’s good, pretty warm which I expected.” She gasped lowly as the wetness came higher up on her body. You swam over to her, grabbing both of her hands and pulling her in further. She let out a small yelp as you caught her, your faces sharing low proximity to the point you could feel her breath on yours.
“Uh, sorry-” You tried to pull away but were quickly stopped by her hands on your lower back. She brought you impossibly closer and you could feel her length pleading to be freed. In all honesty, she had been trying to disguise it since the moment you let your skin be shown. You were like a goddess, entrancing everyone possible and forcing their heartbeat to rise.
“I want to kiss you so bad right now, but I’m only going to if you want me to.” Your lips parted in shock as your eyes widened, your expression was starting to worry the older woman. She was ready to pull away until you stopped her, making the first move as you planted a meaningful peck onto her mouth. She felt her muscles tension start to die down while her hands held you tightly, traveling down to the exposing clothing you wore and squeezing your ass. You gasped lightly, allowing her tongue to move further and enter your mouth. She pressed your body against the wall, letting her fingertips toy with the waistband of your bikini bottoms before hiking your thigh against her waist, giving her easier access to trail it down your legs.
“You’re an even better kisser than I imagined.” You chuckled at her words, biting your lip as you felt her teasing your folds.
“You’ve- you’ve imagined kissing me?” A small whimper made way from your vocal cords and Wanda nearly came from the sound alone. She needed you so badly, there was no way she’d be able to stop now.
“Oh, I’ve imagined doing so many things to you, baby.” The recollection brought a new sense of arousal to her. The nights she’d stay up, moans bouncing off the walls as her mind went wild.
“I think of you too, Wanda.” You shyly, remarked, looking down as you spotted your legs opening more on their own. It was as if they were on their own accord, chasing after the high you’ve been wanting for months now.
“Yeah? Tell me, do you touch yourself when you think of Mommy, hm?” The nickname nearly brought a shake to your legs, your eyes traveling to the back of your head as you released a weak moan.
“I’ve- I’ve never-” She clicked her tongue loudly and for a quick second you felt her still and your body wanted to disagree, but the shame you held was too much. Maybe you really were too innocent or young for her, so naive to think you had a chance.
“I’m the first to touch this sweet, sweet pussy? Oh, baby girl, you have no idea how happy that makes Mommy to hear.” Your hands came up to her shoulders as you held yourself up, trying your best to not let her see your weakness. But Wanda saw everything, she always knew.
“Mommy’s got you, little one, she’s not going anywhere.” You could tell she was holding back slightly as she continued to rub your clit in small, gentle circles. You didn’t want her to hold back, you wanted to satisfy her needs correctly.
“Please, Mommy, I don’t want you to be gentle.” Your pout could’ve easily sent her to heaven, but she chose to remain calm and guide you to sit on the edge of the wall. Up to your knees were chilled with the water while the rest of your body soaked in the heat of the sun. Wanda instantly separated your legs and placed soft, yet bruising kisses on your thighs. She wanted to leave a mark. She wanted you to go home tonight and be forced to remember your previous activities, she wanted you to suffer so badly until you needed to see her again. She wanted to be your only escape, she wanted that hold over you that no one else could have.
Her tongue collided with your weeping cunt, giving you no preparation as she instantly caused the tightening in your stomach to worsen. Months and months of edging was catching up to you, but you didn’t want to fail her so quickly.
“You taste fucking amazing, princess.” She was sloppy with her movements, holding absolutely no care or shame as she only focused on your flavor. You were like her favorite fruit that she couldn’t quite get enough of, always reaching for more and telling herself it’ll be the last one, only the last one never came.
“M-Mommy-” She pulled away for a quick moment, leaving a small peck to your pulsing clit as her eyes landed on yours, guiding you into continuing.
“I feel funny.” You expressed, leading her to smirk in response.
“Oh, my poor baby, can you tell me more about how you’re feeling?” She fauxed a frown before continuing, her tongue sliding in and out of your tight hole as her moans vibrated against you. Your breath sped up, your chest heaving as tears pricked your eyes.
“It f-feels weird…in my stomach. I- ah! I-I kept feeling like this for..months!” You gasped when she sucked harshly on your clit. You’ve never felt so ecstatic, so small.
“I’d think of y-you, Mommy, and then my- my head would get f-fuzzy and it would feel all tingly down below.” You choked on your words, trying to manage out some sort of evidence that you were still in control of your body, but deep down you wanted to give her all sorts of power.
“Mhm, and how would you help those tingly feelings?” You squeezed your eyes shut as you felt your hips starting to move on their own against her face, your body begging for more.
“I don’t know, I- sometimes, I-I’d rub my thighs t-together, but I never knew what to- what to do.” She was so engrossed in your words and the way you were clenching around nothing, her cock was nearly drooling as she failed to satisfy herself. Now that she had you, she wasn’t going to waste the chance of getting a taste of your sweet cunt.
“Mhm, and it felt like this, right?” It never felt nearly as good, but you nodded anyway.
“Do you think you can do something for me, pretty girl?” Once again, you nodded, this time a whimper following as your hand fell to your breast. You tweaked your hardened nipples as instinct, you didn’t even realize what you were doing until you noticed her watching your movements.
“I want you to hold it, just for a few more minutes, okay? I know you can do it, you’re my strong girl!” She climbed out of the water, letting you lay down as she settled over you. The towel was warm due to the sun but her hot kisses were even warmer. She placed them against your neck, smiling into them as she noticed the forming visible marks.
“Mommy’s gonna go in now, is that alright?”
“Okay, Mommy.” You nearly squeaked when her tip entered you, the small amount already seeming to stretch your walls to the max. You grappled onto her chest for support, unable to stop yourself as your lips followed. She moaned lowly at the contact, her hips jutting forward just enough to cause a weak whine.
“Mommy, it hurts.” You ushered out, your teeth grazing against her sensitive skin and resulting in a groan.
“Fuck, Mommy’s so close, baby. C’mon, be a good little slut and I’ll let you cum with me.” You nervously brought a hand down to cup her balls, using your thumb to gently rub the skin as she bit her lip to suppress any sounds.
“Pl- please, Mommy, I wanna hear you.” Her eyes fluttered shut as she nodded, letting go of her lip as her mouth parted. Her pace quickened enough to have you mumbling incoherent sentences.
“Kiss me, darlin’,” She muttered before grasping the back of your neck and guiding you into her. Your mouth’s connected in a searing kiss, one that brought further ache to your core. Her tongue ran over your lips as she begged for you to let her in, which you quickly did. She explored your mouth as if a traveler on a conquest, only stopping when she gasped as liquids spurted onto her crotch. She looked down at you, eyes blown out and full of lust while holding shame and guilt.
“‘M sorry, I-I tried-” She shushed you quickly, stuffing her head in your neck as she sniffed your scent. You were so unbelievably intoxicating, that she couldn’t get enough.
“Oh, sweetie, Mommy’s so proud of you.” She praised. “So much so that I’m gonna give you a little gift,” Her sloppy thrusts stilled as you felt warm juices invading your tight hole. She was painting your walls with her cum, pressing even deeper as she watched droplets escape you.
“Oh, fuck! I’ve been wanting to fill this cunt for too fucking long, baby girl, you have no idea how badly I need this.” You clawed her back, leaving hints of red marks as you drew lines with your nails. They weren’t very long, but the pleasure became too much and you quickly found yourself digging into her skin.
“You’re going to look so perfect carrying my babies. And when you go back to college, or when you walk around town, all the judgful looks will remind you of how much of a slut you are for your Mommy.” Suddenly, you remembered the two boys who were meant to be arriving in only a few hour's time. Your eyes shot open, your body trying to move from hers as she only continued to hold you tightly.
“No, love. They won’t be here for a while, and I’m going to spend every second I have left fucking you.”
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ahundredtimesover · 2 months
Text
I Want You to Stay (05) | JJK
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Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader
Genre/Tags: boss!JK x assistant!reader; idiot strangers to lovers; slow slow burn; k-drama feels; angst, drama, fluff, smut
Chapter (Series) Warnings: foul/explicit language; alcohol consumption & passing out, unhealthy coping mechanisms; family drama; minor injuries; power dynamics (JK starts off as a jerk); work-related anxiety, feelings of helplessness, insecurities; childhood traumatic experiences, nightmares; sexual harassment, prior incidence of domestic violence (PLS PLS BE CAREFUL WHEN READING); arts and business/property devt talk that’s probably inaccurate; commitment issues & emotionally constipated characters; cold and detached JK; eventual explicit sexual content (specific warnings stated per chapter) (18+)
Chapter Word count: 14.8k
Series Masterlist
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Status: Ongoing
Series summary: Working for Jungkook isn’t the same as working for Hoseok. For starters, Jungkook doesn’t smile, he doesn’t appreciate you, and he gives you too much work. It doesn’t help that he’s incredibly handsome and has women at his beck and call. But as the tension grows, it becomes impossible to resist him. You’ve dedicated yourself to your job for 8 years so when you finally decide to put yourself first, he asks you to reconsider. And while you know that leaving is difficult, you learn that when it comes to Jungkook, staying is always so much harder.
Playlist 🎶: on the way home
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A/N: I deeply appreciate all the love and messages (and anticipation for uh, stuff) but again, it's a slow burn! Thank you so much! 🥰
And as always, my biggest thanks to @wonwoonlight  🥰
PS. If I can’t tag you, pls fix your settings!
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Jungkook sits cross-legged on the couch in his office, his iPad in hand as he goes through the Board report for the nth time these past five days. 
Manager Lee and Chin-sun have put together the logistics, construction, and design departments’ reports with the VP’s and Jungkook is supposed to sign these off for submission to the CEO today, who then approves it for submission to the Board members. They have until Friday to review it in time for the meeting happening that same day. 
This consolidated report was finalized last Wednesday and Jungkook has been reviewing it everyday since then, including his presentation, making minimal comments and then taking notes on things he’s unfamiliar with. Granted, he’s reporting about the quarter when he’s only been Vice President for a month, which makes you incredibly instrumental in his preparations. As the executive assistant, you have the information that Jungkook needs from Hoseok’s time, and so you’ve also been spending everyday since Wednesday answering all of Jungkook’s questions. 
You don’t mind, really, as they’re details you know by heart. It also allows you to show him how involved and meticulous you were under Hoseok’s leadership, and Jungkook’s hums and mumbles of appreciation have helped you gain back the confidence that you lost. 
Even if your self-esteem decreased this past month because of the very person sitting in front of you, the fact that Jungkook’s been showing - in his own ways - his trust in you is enough to lift your spirits. He did admit last week that he needs you - something you hadn’t expected him to say - and you could tell it took so much from him to be able to verbalize it. But you suppose you needed that honesty, too; you needed to know that after all that frustration and anger during the first few weeks, there was that realization on his end that you have his back, and you’re just as capable as what everyone has been saying you are. 
“What information do you need from me, Mr. Jeon?” You finally ask. 
It’s been a good five minutes since Jungkook had asked for you and you’ve just been standing in front of him while he scrolls through the screen, perhaps giving another final look before he finally sends the document to his father.
“Nothing,” he sighs, rolling his head back and closing his eyes. “I just… I just need someone to tell me to stop reviewing this report. I need this out of my sight but I can’t stop checking to make sure everything is okay.”
You look at him intently while he speaks. The tension in his entire face and body is visible, you can even feel it in the room. You feel for him, as he tries to hide the anxiety and desperation. You can tell that he just wants to do well so badly. With the amount of time he’s been spending just going through this, his perfectionist tendency surfaces, and you’re at least thankful that it hasn’t turned him back into an asshole. At least not yet. 
“You need to stop reviewing the report, Mr. Jeon, and let it go,” you say as instructed but with sincerity in your words. “You’ve been on this for days. Manager Lee and Chin-sun have reviewed it, and so have I. CEO Jeon could still suggest changes and we won’t know them until he’s reviewed it, but we at least have the details ironed out. If I may suggest, you can send the file to him in the next hour so you can now focus on practicing for your presentation. That may be a better use of your time.”
Jungkook opens his eyes and turns to you. There’s assurance in your words and your voice and like what he told himself he’d do, he’ll trust you and the team. He’s seen how hard everyone has been working for this - Manager Lee and Chin-sun have done so well in consolidating and cross-checking everything; Do-hyun’s presentation is simple yet effective, and Yohan, who’s back from the hospital, has been adding in all the needed details. And there’s you, making sure that everything and everyone is on track, even as you prepare for Jungkook’s upcoming events. 
“Okay, then,” he exhales deeply. “I’ll send it in the next half hour.”
Knowing he has a meeting set at 2PM, you ask him if you should order him lunch.
“Yes please,” he answers, saying he wants some braised beef from the restaurant on the next block. “Order for yourself as well, and the rest of the team. You can all get anything you want.”
The silence prompts Jungkook to look at you, and he’s met with a questioning gaze.
“Is there a problem?” He asks.
“N—no,” you answer. “I’d like to confirm again that I’ll be ordering lunch for you and all five of us.”
“Yes, Ms. Cho. That’s what I said.”
You remain unmoving as you wait for him to correct himself. This is the first time that Jungkook has offered to treat the team to a meal. Not that you’ve been waiting for it, but Hoseok took you all out to dinner on his first day as a welcome and a thanks in advance, and once you picked up that Jungkook wasn’t the type to engage with his staff much, you just didn’t expect anything. So takeaway lunch from a nice restaurant is definitely surprising. 
“Okay, sir,” you say. “I will do that. I’m sure the team will appreciate it.”
Jungkook merely hums, his eyes focused on the screen now as you bow and head out. 
You go meet the team and as you expected, everyone looks at you in shock. 
“Did the real Mr. Jeon get abducted?” Do-hyun asks. “Because treating us is something he wouldn’t do.”
“Yah! It may be a month late but let’s just be thankful, okay?” You frown at her. “He can see that everyone’s been working hard and I’m sure he appreciates that, and he may not be able to say it but he can at least show us.”
“While he’s at it, he can maybe at least say thank you or you know, smile every once in a while,” Chin-sun sighs. 
“We’ll get there. He knows he needs to do better and he will, I’ll make sure of that,” you assure them, thinking about the conversation from last week. 
Jungkook wants you to help him and for his sake and everyone else’s, you’ll make sure that you do. 
“Well, is he better to you?” Do-hyun asks, her face in a pout because she’s seen you skip meals several times and even cry, and she’d wanted so many times to just hug you, but she knows it’s not something you openly receive. 
“Yes,” you say, knowing it will drive your point. “I’d like to think that the worst is over and I can just focus on doing better and helping him. It would be great if the rest of us could do the same.”
“She’s right,” Manager Lee chimes in. “We grow when we adapt, and much more when we’re able to move on and learn from our experiences. It hasn’t been the best month but it’s also just been a month. So let’s be grateful for the meal and just continue with the good work we’ve been doing, okay?”
You give them the warmest smile you can muster, hoping this would be enough. 
It seems to be, as they all excitedly give their orders, which you and Yohan pick up from the restaurant. You return and after giving Jungkook his food, you head to the other room to eat as well.
The team enjoys the meal, with Do-hyun dramatically stating that it’s the best beef brisket she’s ever had. And you agree; there’s a reason why Jungkook gets this every week. 
Jungkook can hear laughter and satisfied hums from the support team office, with Do-hyun, he supposes, claiming that it feels like Christmas. Yohan says it’s a much-needed post-recovery treat, and even Manager Lee - who’s often serious - cracks a few jokes. Jungkook can pick out your sound, too, noting the joy that emanates from it. He allows himself a small smile, knowing that given how he’s been to everyone this past month, he at least could give his team this highlight of their day. 
He stands by the door, initially going unnoticed, until Chin-sun catches sight of him and alerts everyone that he’s there. The room goes silent, and Jungkook looks on as his staff quietly munch their food and bow to him in greeting. The teasing and laughter have gone; worried eyes are what he sees instead. 
Your initial surprise at seeing him melts away. He rarely drops by for anything, even for a greeting or to just check up on the team, unlike Hoseok who liked to come here often to de-stress after long meetings. But you sense Jungkook’s awkwardness at the silence, with his hands in his pockets and his blank gaze, so you smile at him and hope that eases the tension a bit.
“Lunch was great, Mr. Jeon,” you say. “Thank you.”
“It was,” Manager Lee pipes in. “The roast pork was so delicious. The potato salad was very good, too.”
You look at the others and encourage them to say something as well, and they hum in agreement and say their thanks.
“The beef brisket was heavenly,” Do-hyun raves. “Thank you! I hope it’s not the last time.”
She awkwardly chuckles, realizing that her boss isn’t one she should be joking with, but Jungkook doesn’t seem to take offense, as he purses his lips - perhaps to hide a smile, revealing a tiny dimple that catches you off guard. 
“It won’t be. And uh, it was a month late, so I’m glad you all enjoyed it,” he replies, a tinge of disappointment now painting his face.
There’s another moment of silence and you observe him, hands still in his pockets, looking around awkwardly, unable to meet anyone’s eyes. 
“It’s greatly appreciated, sir,” you assure him once more. “We hope you had a good lunch as well.”
“I’m just about to have it, actually,” he says. “I sent the report to the CEO and he must’ve been waiting for it because he read it right away and called to give feedback.”
“Oh? How did CEO Jeon find it?” Manager Lee asks.
“He said it was good. There are just minor things he asked me to change but I can do them on my own,” Jungkook answers. “I appreciate everyone’s hard work. Now, we can focus on our upcoming events and the Arts Center.”
The team immediately starts packing and swallowing their food, and Jungkook has to stop them. 
“Not right now,” he clarifies. “Continue with your meal. And don’t stay too late. We’ve got another busy week ahead.”
“Yes, Mr. Jeon,” everyone says in unison.
Jungkook nods and starts walking away, leaving all five of you with confused looks, as Jungkook has never spoken to the team in such a calm and friendly manner. It was always firm and professional, low and stoic. 
You scurry out the room and follow him. Jungkook gives you a questioning look when you enter his office shortly after he does, and you pick up his untouched lunch from the table and inform him that you’ll heat it up, knowing he doesn’t like to eat his food cold. 
You go back to the pantry then return to Jungkook’s room, his beef brisket dish now properly placed in a bowl. He gives you a nod, his form of acknowledgment and thanks, you suppose, and you ask the question you’ve had since his earlier stop at the team’s office.
“Are the edits really just minor?” You wonder, knowing that CEO Jeon is meticulous and quite particular with these board reports. 
Jungkook takes a moment to respond. He should know that you’ve done this a few times and are probably used to how his father is already, which means you’d see right through him as well. 
“Well, they’re not major,” Jungkook says. “I mean, they’re not trivial corrections. The details are all good but I need to change some terminologies and framing and some construction of the sections based on the Board’s current concerns, especially about the Arts Center. They’re not that substantial but it’ll still take me an hour or so.”
“Why did you tell the team that they were minor, then?”
“So they won’t offer to help.”
“But they would. I would,” you tell him. “It’s our job.”
“I was going to ask, but it’s your break time. Everyone was enjoying their meals and each other. First time I’ve seen that, actually. I know it doesn’t happen when I’m around.”
“It’s just that you’re not—”
“Hoseok,” he finishes for you.
“Not someone they’re comfortable being themselves around,” you correct him.
“Yes, not like Hoseok,” he pushes.
“You said it the first day, Mr. Jeon. You do things very differently from your cousin. Your personalities are very different, too. We had him for three years and for Yohan and Do-hyun, he was their first boss,” you explain. “They’re just not used to you yet.”
“What about you? Are you used to me by now?”
There’s sudden tension in the room as he looks at you with the desire for honesty, and it’s what you give.
“I’m not quite sure.”
Jungkook doesn’t really know what he expected, as the question just slipped past his mouth before he could pull it back, so he just nods and proceeds to take his late lunch, wanting to forget that he’d asked at all.
You take this as a signal to head out, which you do, before reminding him that he can ask you for help if he needs another pair of eyes before he submits his part again. Jungkook just nods once more, and it’s later in the day, after the third cup of coffee that you take to his room, that he says his father’s already approved the version he sent after you went through it upon his request. You know that’s just half of what he needs to do though, as he’ll still need to present it to the Board this coming Friday. 
“You may go home, Ms. Cho,” he says after he signs some documents for you. 
“How about you, Mr. Jeon?” You ask. 
It’s been a long day, an extension of an even longer weekend because he’d been at a work event and then reviewed the report as well. 
“I’ll probably stay back and go over the presentation. Maybe practice a little.”
You purse your lips, holding something back.
“Should I not?” He wonders.
“Just thinking that it might be better for you to take a proper rest tonight,” you advise. 
“I’ll think about it. It’s gonna be a tough one on Friday and I want to be prepared.”
“I understand,” you smile. “I’ll go ahead, Mr. Jeon.”
Jungkook holds your gaze for a while before he nods and returns to his screen, going through the presentation slides and the notes he scribbled on his iPad. But try as he might, the graphs and the words just go over his head. 
He does need to rest, he thinks. He hasn’t really taken a break all weekend. His hookup from last night was the only relief he got, but that was to expend all the negative energy from the anxiety and stress, and he realizes that he probably doesn’t know what proper rest is, like what you suggested he have. He wonders if you’ve ever had one, or if it’s something you stopped having ever since you started working for him.
Taking your advice, he heads out. It’s only been 30 minutes and he assumes you’re already on the bus and on the way home. He sits in the passenger seat, letting Mr. Ri’s choice of music fill the car as Jungkook’s mind wanders to you - how you laughed at the team’s antics, how you got them to assure him, how you read him well, how you were patient and helpful, and how you seemed concerned about how tired he’s been. 
He’ll chalk it up to you doing your job and helping him as he asked you to do; he always will. He can’t ever think that any of your actions mean more even if deep down, he wishes they do, only so he knows that you don’t hate him, that you’ve forgiven him for things he never apologized for, that you’ll stay for as long as possible. There’s something about your honesty and calm presence that stabilizes him, that makes him take a pause. 
Jungkook’s worked hard on his career for the past decade and it’s all he focuses on; it’s all he thinks about. But when you’re there, he’s forced to stop and think about you. He’s noticed that just this past week - when you’re around, he listens; when you’re close to him, he breathes. Ironic, really, considering that every time you close the distance - when you fix his tie or look at his screen over his shoulder or help him retrieve portfolios - he remains still, his heart stopping and his throat drying up, afraid to take in your scent or to know just how fast his pulse would race or what words he’d say that he won’t be able to contain. 
He’s afraid to know you, only because what he’ll learn might make him want you. And Jungkook knows that he can’t let himself feel that about you in any way.
He sighs as he looks out the window - cars in line to cross the intersection, people walking to their destination. He thinks he’s hallucinating as he sees your smile, but a bus blocks his view and Mr. Ri steps on the gas. 
Outside, you smile to yourself as you wait in line. You were held up at the lobby because Bitna caught you in the elevator and didn’t want to let you go just yet, so you left the office just minutes ago and were waiting at the bus stop when a familiar car showed up and you saw Jungkook looking out the window. He opted to leave early, too; you can only hope he’ll take your advice and rest tonight. 
But the thought that what you said prompted him to take a pause from work stirs something within. Maybe it’s because he’s finally listening to you, or that it seems like he trusts you now. Whatever it is, for as long as it makes your job bearable, you’re all for it. 
It doesn’t take away from the moments you’ve shared where it seems like the world stops for a bit as you hold each other’s gazes for the shortest of seconds. There’s tension where there shouldn’t be, and there’s something different in his eyes when there used to be disdain, one which you can’t read nor identify. It leaves you still for the briefest of moments, unguarded and a little bare, as he seems to tell you something with just a look and you just don’t know what it is. 
As you find a rare seat in the bus, you let the musings go. Jungkook is a man who holds in him a million thoughts a day and those moments with you seem to be his only reprieve; perhaps they’re also just instances of temporary lags or the rare silence and stoppage of everything. In some odd way, it allows you to see him as the human that he is - exhausted, unsure at times, but seemingly yearning for something. 
There’s always an emotion or a thought or a word that he holds in, and you can only wish - as your relationship with him improves - that whatever it is he’s holding back, he’ll find a way to express it. 
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“Do you have any advice for the Board meeting?”
Jungkook slides the question in before Hoseok heads to the elevator and off to an event. They’ve just finished having a check-in with CEO Jeon, who wanted to make sure that the two of them are well-prepared for this Friday, given that presenting during these meetings and contributing to policy and strategy are crucial in their roles as President and Vice President. Jungkook won’t admit that it caused him a bit of anxiety, but he’ll surely take the chance to ask his cousin for tips on how to make sure that he doesn’t screw up.
“I do,” Hoseok answers as he holds off on pressing the button. “Ask your assistant. And then listen to what she says.”
Jungkook visibly sighs. “Hoseok, I mean it.”
“I mean it, too,” the older man replies. “If it’s anything about our strategic plan or policies, just take my lead. And it’s your very first so you’re expected to still be adjusting. If it’s about the presentation, let ___ brief you about it. She’s been with me every single time I had to present. When I was focused on what I had to say, she was focused on how the Board was reacting and how those translated to the questions they eventually asked. She’d know what you’ll need to emphasize on or who you need to be wary of.”
There’s an unsure look in Jungkook’s eyes, and Hoseok knows it isn’t about trusting you. It’s about him.
“You’re scared, aren’t you?” Hoseok asks. “What are you afraid of, Kook?”
“You know what they think of me,” Jungkook sighs. “I don’t want to screw up and give them more reasons to doubt me because they already do. And they’re definitely gonna ask about the Arts Center. What if they bring up my disappointing social skills? I don’t wanna end up feeling inadequate and embarrassing father.”
“Keep thinking that way and you will,” Hoseok huffs. “Look. Our family owns the company. You and I were trained to run it after my sister and your brother decided they didn’t want to. The Board knows this. They’ll either stay in our good graces or plot against us. Your father knows that, too, and that’s why he’s being hard on both of us because he knows what we’ll have to face. That also just means he’ll always be on your side. He’ll always be on ours. The Board could be intimidating but we still hold the power. They’ll impose or question or cast doubt because they want to feel that sense of control. It’ll only affect you if you let them.”
“Okay” is all that Jungkook manages to say, a tinge of resignation on his face as he takes in his cousin’s words.
“You’ve managed worse people than them,” Hoseok assured him. “Just focus, stand by your project, and engage them. Simple as that.”
“Yes, it’s very simple,” Jungkook chuckles with a shake of his head.
“Like I said, your assistant’s there for a reason, Kook. This is when I get to tell you that it’s her job. We would prepare together and debrief right after, and it always helped because she fills in gaps and informs me of things I missed. Trust me. Trust her.”
The thing is, Jungkook does; he doesn’t need to be reminded that he should trust you because he’s learned to do that, despite it seemingly impossible given that you both started off on the wrong foot. It’s the thought of spending more time with you, during a time when he’s still trying to get used to you and how you affect him, that makes him worried about this. But it’s not something he can talk about with Hoseok. It’s not something he can talk about with anyone. 
“Fine,” Jungkook finally says. “I’ll talk to her.”
“Good. I’ll go now. Have dinner at home tomorrow, okay? And I’ll see you when I get back.”
Jungkook waves the older man goodbye and then returns to his office, where he finds you dropping some files off for signing. 
“Payment requests for the event,” you explain, earning you a nod from him as he walks to his seat. “How did the meeting with your father go, Mr. Jeon?”
“As I expected,” he huffs. “A bit of encouragement, more of the pressure. He’d slide in reminders of what the Board thinks of me and how I should present myself.”
“Is the pressure helping?” You ask.
“A little,” he sighs, sinking into his chair and exhaling deeply. He rolls his head back and closes his eyes, allowing himself a few seconds of peace. “But I still need help. Hoseok said I can get it from you.”
“You know, he oversells me sometimes,” you manage to laugh, prompting Jungkook to look at you now. “I know I’m competent. But I don’t know about being your source of help for a Board meeting any more than providing you with data.” Jungkook likes to do things on his own after all, you think to yourself.
“But you’ve been to as many Board meetings as he has.”
“Yes, but only for his presentation.”
“And that’s what I need help with,” he says. “I just need direction, I guess. Or affirmation that how I’m doing it is the right way. Or tips on who to woo or who to not take seriously.”
Jungkook has been to a few Board meetings but he’s never had to present anything. He’s also never had to engage with the members so he didn’t pay much attention to them because he didn’t feel the need to. These appointments were all a few years too early, and while he’d had a critical position in the Southeast Asian headquarters, everything had gone through his uncle who headed the office then. 
This is the first time that Jungkook feels the magnitude of all his decisions, and that every move he makes is being assessed. And even with his father and Hoseok giving him guidance, they have their own teams to manage and an entire company to run, just like him. Somehow, with all the people around him, Jungkook still feels alone. 
You, with your perpetual presence and surprising warmth, are the only one who makes him feel otherwise. And it terrifies him more than anything.
“Well, I’ve picked up a few things along the way,” you hum. “I can maybe go through my notes and share them with you.”
“Good. I’d like to do that over lunch, since I’ll have you and Manager Lee watch me practice the presentation around 2.”
Jungkook picks up the slight fall of your face. “Is that a problem?” He asks. “Did you have lunch plans?”
“Nothing more important than assisting you, Mr. Jeon,” you say, a change of expression indicating that you indeed had prior commitments that you’re putting off because of him. “I’ll inform Manager Lee about meeting with him after.”
You head out and return to your desk to work on your remaining tasks for the morning until lunch time rolls by and you accompany Jungkook to a nearby restaurant as he’d asked. You try not to get too excited about the meal in front of you and then control yourself from letting out orgasmic sounds from the succulent piece of salmon that’s melting in your mouth. This check-in seems too important for Jungkook and you want to support him in any way you can.
“How was Hoseok during his first Board meeting?” Jungkook starts. 
“Nervous, a little rattled. His sister left him behind with a lot of work and she was abroad for most of the time so they weren’t able to meet up,” you share. “But he got up there and presented all the office’s gains for the past months and then explained his plans moving forward. He had all these good ideas on policy and strategy and he articulated them well. He had to take over multiple small projects and he showed how he planned to manage all of them. His charms sort of hid away the anxiety he was feeling and I guess that eventually helped him get rid of it.”
“Well, that’s one thing I can’t claim that I have,” Jungkook sighs. 
He looks at you to see your reaction, and the awkwardness on your face makes him internally laugh.
“I can lie to you if you want me to,” you say, and he chuckles, surprising you both, though he acts like he doesn’t mind.
“I’d actually want you to be as honest with me as possible, Ms. Cho. I don’t want you, of all people, to suck up to me to get on my good graces.”
“Great, since I wasn’t on it in the first place,” you trail, earning you another laugh, and you wish this could at least lessen the pressure he’s putting himself under. 
“That’s true,” he says, holding your gaze. He turns to his food before he gets sucked in your gorgeous eyes even more. “But I mean it. I don’t exactly know how to charm people, much less the Board. I don’t want to add to the narrative they already have of me having terrible social skills. But I also don’t want them to think I’m being fake or pretentious.”
“If I may, you’ll botch that aspect if you keep thinking about it,” you advise. “Perhaps you can just focus on what you’re good at. Delivering a presentation, regardless of what it’s about, is a skill. You have all the information and I can add some more if you’re not confident with them. You also tweaked some existing processes and you can build on it. But also, the Arts Center will definitely be their focus, so talk about it the way you would with your father and the team… and me. You let us envision it with your words and your visuals and those are all you need.”
“Okay then. I’ll just imagine they’re all vegetables or something so I can focus.”
“Mrs. Doi likes making eye contact because she wants to feel like you’re conversing with her,” you say. “Mrs. Seo asks a lot of irrelevant questions but you have to answer as if they’re important. Mr. Ong likes being acknowledged every time he says something or even nods. So I don’t recommend acting as if they’re inanimate. Maybe just with Mr. Wang because he falls asleep in everything, but don’t take it personally. I think it’s a medical condition.”
Jungkook’s amused look encourages you to continue.
“Mr. Mun doesn’t really get design and building terms so you’d have to explain them at least twice. Mr. Bong tends to act all mighty but he doesn’t really know much. Same with Mr. Im and Ms. Hwa. The rest are fine,” you say. “Mr. Saito is very thoughtful. He’s a designer so his insights would be good. Ms. Cheng is unproblematic and overall just supportive. Mr. Yeon is just… there. They’re quite intense when it comes to profits and the company’s image but if you stand by what you know, they won’t really say much.”
“Wow, that’s… that’s a lot to take in. And also very informative,” Jungkook states. “I never noticed any of those.”
“Well, you had your reasons to be in those meetings and maybe you didn’t have a reason to pay attention to them,” you shrug. “I do. I thought it was an added way that I could help Mr. Jung. Assistants are asked to sit on the side of the room so we can be easily signaled for anything and I thought I could use that position to observe the Board members and see how they respond to the presentation. It helped for the succeeding ones and it took the pressure off him in terms of needing to appease them.”
“Makes sense,” Jungkook hums. “Worrying about how they’ll react or what they’ll say is half of the pressure.”
“It is. I couldn’t help Mr. Jung for his first time because it was mine, too, but he picked things up quite easily. He knew who to pay attention to.”
“Well, considering that I don’t seem to be ideal for this relationship-heavy position, I’ll have to pay attention and appease all of them, it seems.”
“If I may, Mr. Jeon, you can take it as a challenge,” you advise, feeling more comfortable in being honest now. “I may be just a humble assistant but I’ve seen things. With all the praises for Mr. Jung - which are deserved, of course - I’ve witnessed his moments of distress, which is perfectly normal for anyone. A-yeong had to remind him of how good he was everyday because he needed that push and it helped him. It also helped that he was trying to prove something and that he was always told that he had all the qualities to do that.”
“Not everyone has a supportive wife like him though. Or like my father,” Jungkook laughs dryly.
“They had supportive assistants,” you offer, trying to be optimistic. “I had to fill-in as Mr. Jung’s sounding board and I was always in awe at his approach to things.”
“Which is very different from mine, I know,” Jungkook says unintentionally, the sigh making you feel like he’s tired of the comparison, and you feel a bit bad at having to seemingly remind him of that.
“And which isn’t bad at all,” you try to assure him. “Just because it’s different, doesn’t mean it’s not right.”
Well, it wasn’t right to treat you the way I did, he wants to say, but the words stay in his head and at the tip of his tongue. 
“That’s… comforting,” he says instead.
“I was trying to be assuring but comforting is fine, too,” you chuckle. “But I mean it, sir. I know there are all these expectations and I won’t be able to truly understand what the pressure is like but if you allow it to challenge you, you might even surprise yourself. And then you’ll end up surprising them, too. But do it for you. At the end of the day, they’re just the Board but you’re the Vice President. And you’re you. You’re all you can control.”
There’s a beat of silence as Jungkook takes in everything you’d said. You have this persistence about you that’s reflected in the way you carry yourself and in the way you relate with others, especially towards him despite how he’d treated you not long ago. Regardless of what you said, he thinks you know exactly what he feels when it comes to dealing with pressure. He supposes that working for his family can do that to someone, especially when it’s him. 
“Such moving words, Ms. Cho,” he finally says.  
“I didn’t mean to give unwanted advice,” you shake your head in disappointment. 
“I needed it though,” he surprises you. “Other than Hoseok or even Yoongi, who are both busy themselves, I only have you as a sounding board. And as support. So, uh, thanks.”
He says his gratitude with a soft tone, almost embarrassingly. You can tell it’s something he doesn’t say that often, but you take it, as you think it’s another step towards him trusting you even more. And you need that trust for now; it’s this peaceful and honest dynamic with him that’s making your job bearable.
Lunch continues with Jungkook asking more questions about some of the Board members and you dishing some dirt on some of them as what you’ve heard in the office washrooms, perhaps the only gossip you don’t take with a grain of salt. He’s amused, and you think this is the most expressive you’ve seen him. 
You proceed to meet with Manager Lee in the conference room where Jungkook goes through each slide presentation, asking both of you for more information he thinks he needs and about how he’s carrying himself, his tone, his pace, and his engagement. It’s good enough for a first run-through, Manager Lee says, and Jungkook decides to dry-run it again on Thursday. 
The rest of your day goes by a little stressfully. There are multiple events that you have to organize and coordinate with other offices, and those are what you work on until you clock out on time.
Jungkook stays behind for only half an hour before deciding he’s had enough of looking through his notes and will return to them tomorrow. He takes the elevator and nods when Yoongi enters.
“Hey,” Jungkook greets. “How are the designs for the Changwon mid-rise?”
“It’s 6:00. I don’t wanna talk about work,” Yoongi whines. 
Jungkook knows this. It’s also why he likes to tease his friend about it. 
“Fine. We can just stand next to each other awkwardly until we have to get off,” Jungkook says.
“Hmm,” Yoongi hums. “Or, we can talk about how my lunch plans changed because someone asked my lunch partner for a meeting.”
The tension immediately rises and Jungkook hates how affected he is by Yoongi’s teasing. 
“Ah, so it was you. Well, she did say it wasn’t as important as what we were meeting about,” Jungkook hits back.
“True. It’s about the Board meeting after all. It’s a pretty big deal.”
Jungkook starts to feel hot all over, as the thought of you and Yoongi conversing about your thwarted lunch plans because of him plays in his head. It’s a mix of frustration and disappointment. While the meeting was in no way confidential, he just hates the idea that it was something you shared with Yoongi. Perhaps it’s just after the fact, considering that Jungkook thinks it was a good lunch. You clearly enjoyed the dish - he could see how you tried to control your reactions to it - and your conversations went by smoothly. You were honest and supportive; he was open and all the more surprised with how well you were able to calm him down. It’s as if someone else was privy to that moment you both shared, even if Yoongi wasn’t there. 
“Huh, I thought you were over her,” Jungkook says, the bitterness slicing through. If his friend picks it up, he doesn’t say anything.
“I am. We were just gonna have lunch at this noodle house because she was craving it,” Yoongi clarifies. “I told you, I’m her only friend here. It’s nice to share a meal with someone who cares about you every once in a while, you know? It’s hard being a working adult and we all need a bit of a break and a companion sometimes. It didn’t mean anything more than that.”
Jungkook chooses not to respond and Yoongi could tell why. There’s this look of annoyance painting the younger man’s face, which makes him a lot more transparent than he wishes he was. 
But Yoongi can see right through his friend. It’s not something he raises though, but he won’t be surprised if Jungkook dwells on this. He just hopes it isn’t to your detriment again.
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The ride home wasn’t as terrible last night, and after your elder neighbor gave you some stew because she cooked too much, you had a satisfying dinner and an even more satisfying slumber. 
You feel like the end of the week isn’t too far ahead - although there really isn’t anything exciting for you except for a date with your bed - and you just want to get through all your tasks for the day and get that jjajangmyeon that Yoongi said he’ll get for you today so you can eat it for dinner. You were initially upset at having to pass up on him for yesterday’s lunch, but you’d be the first to admit that sharing that meal with Jungkook was still worthwhile.
Not only was the dish you ordered one of the best things you’ve ever eaten, it was also nice to see Jungkook loosen up a bit after feeling tense all morning because of his presentation. You liked that he’s being open to getting support from you, as it seems that he sees you now as more than just the assistant who’s there to serve him. He seems to appreciate your thoughts and didn’t even act bitterly when you gave him unsolicited advice. You feel even more that your relationship improves daily.
That is, until you enter his penthouse this Wednesday morning with barely a look of acknowledgement from him. Going through your routine, he doesn’t say much; he stays silent the entire ride to the office as well.
When you enter his room to serve his coffee, his furrowed brows have returned and his jaws are clenched as he types away on his desktop.
“Ms. Cho,” he calls out, his voice stern once again. 
You turn around to face him, wondering what has happened since you left the office yesterday.
“Yes, Mr. Jeon?”
“I just wanted to raise that while I understand you have personal relationships with other employees, I do not appreciate you divulging the topics of our meetings with them. Even if they’re my friend as well.”
His last sentence gives away who he’s talking about, and the conversation with Yoongi after you canceled your lunch plans with him rings in your head. 
It was a harmless statement, you want to say; you didn’t share any more than it being a meeting about his presentation. There was no ill-intent in you telling Yoongi why you couldn’t see him for lunch. But you choose to pass up on reasoning with Jungkook. He builds his wall up even more when you do, and you don’t want things to be that way again, not when they seemed to be going okay already these past few days.
So you nod and concede. “I understand, Mr. Jeon, and I apologize. I won’t do it again.”
Jungkook can’t help but just look at you, internally smacking himself as your face falls further and as you, once again, feel far away because of his own stupidity. 
“Is there anything else you need, sir?” 
He shakes his head no, and you bow in response, heading out, with the sadness in your eyes as the last thing he sees. 
Jungkook is unable to focus on his emails and the conference call he takes part in. The words and thoughts are all jumbled when he practices his presentation, as his gaze constantly flits to your spot just outside where you sit, doing your tasks while looking detached and dejected. 
He assumes you didn’t come to work expecting to be called out the way he did with you, which in hindsight, didn’t seem necessary, especially knowing how it’s affecting you right now. Things were going well between both of you after all - he’s being more open and you’re being more comfortable. Information was flowing smoothly, and communication has improved. And he just went ahead and screwed all that up.
Jungkook starts to feel stuffy. He’s been in his office working on things for the Arts Center and practicing most of the day, with you only coming in to bring the lunch he’d asked Mr. Ri to buy and his cups of coffee. You’ve avoided his gaze and haven't said much to him, too. 
He decides to take a walk outside. The outdoor space on this floor has nice benches and a small garden that overlooks the Han River. He’s seen the team eat there sometimes, and while the weather may be a little too hot for it, he’d much rather breathe in the air than his humidifier. 
But as he takes his time to open the door, he hears a familiar voice from outside.
“Fine, if you won’t take the sandwich, at least take the noodles,” Yoongi says. “You’ve been craving that all weekend.”
“Not anymore,” you huff, seemingly annoyed.
“Hey, did I do something wrong?” Yoongi asks, calm and understanding in tone, traits that Jungkook could only hope to have. 
“No… I don’t know,” you sigh. “Just that, whatever I talk to you about or mention, other people don’t need to know them, okay? No matter how harmless they are. Let’s just… not talk about work stuff. Especially in the office. That’s it.”
“Ah, so that’s what this is about.”
“What do you—”
“Mr. Min,” Jungkook calls out, fully opening the door now. “I have design guidelines I need you to go over. I need them by tomorrow morning.”
“Okay, Jungkook,” Yoongi bitterly replies, knowing what’s happened. “Just send them over to me.”
“Ms. Cho will do that right now.”
You nod in acknowledgement of Jungkook’s instruction and remain focused on your desktop. There’s silence in the air and tension that you can’t deal with right now.
“Can I help you with anything else, Mr. Min?” 
“Nah. If I do, I’ll check with your boss first if I can ask you for it. Don’t want you getting in trouble because of me.”
You finally look up at him, a tinge of annoyance painting his face, a rarity since Yoongi doesn’t seem to ever be irate about anything. 
“And I’ll just take this jjajangmyeon if you don’t want it,” he adds, taking the container that’s on the ledge of your desk with him, before walking out of your area.
You can’t help the pout that forms on your lips. You really love that noodle house’s version and you’ve been craving it for days. It’s where you and Yoongi were both supposed to have lunch yesterday but Jungkook spoiled it, and it wouldn’t have mattered as much, until it became a reason for him to be upset with you again. You’re not exactly sure why, but much as you want to question your boss this time, you don’t have the energy for it. It doesn’t seem worth it, but it also doesn’t change the fact that Yoongi might have said something to Jungkook, and that’s a dynamic you’re still unsure how to read or deal with. 
Your gaze shifts to the man himself, who looks less annoyed than he did at the start of the day. You don’t know how his practice has been going, since he hasn’t asked you to run it with him, but you suppose he’s doing alright. He’s been in his room all day doing that and taking calls in between. 
Jungkook looks away and heads out. He lets the summer air clear his mind a little before he goes back inside. It’s 6PM by the time he emerges from his room, surprised at seeing your face still buried in piles of papers.
“Ms. Cho, I’ll be heading to Hoseok’s for dinner,” he says, getting your attention. “Anything that needs my signature or approval can wait tomorrow.”
He hopes you’ll read through his words, as he wishes you’d take a rest yourself, like you advise him to do.
“Finance needs your expense reports first thing tomorrow morning, Mr. Jeon,” you say, a little too stoic than he’s used to. “These can be signed tomorrow when you arrive.”
Jungkook just nods, knowing there’s not much he can do if you don’t want to go home yet. But he does leave you with a reminder.
“Ms. Cho,” he says before leaving. He’s met with curious eyes that he tries not to fall into. “Make sure to eat a proper dinner.”
He walks out too quickly, not wanting to see your reaction.
You’re too tired to react, but that just pushes you to finish all your work and head to the pantry for some biscuits. It’s then that you see the paper bag with a note on it. 
For ___. Do not touch! 
At the back, Yoongi writes, I’m sorry. Here’s a man who knows how to apologize, you think to yourself.
The bowl of jjajangmyeon is inside, as well as a container of gimari. The scent reminds you of how hungry you are, so you heat up the noodles and inhale your dinner as you stand by the table. The empty office and the faint sounds of the air conditioning make you think of how alone you really are - working past your hours on a Wednesday evening, a takeaway meal from a friend you’re pushing away, and a stressful trip back to your empty studio apartment. 
You rarely ever feel lonely. You don’t equate being alone with that specific emotion or state. There’s certainty and clarity you get from being on your own. But on certain days, you let yourself crack a little and be vulnerable. On certain days, you let yourself admit that being alone makes you feel lonely, and that at this precise moment, it’s exactly what you feel. 
You send Yoongi a message of thanks but don’t extend the conversation after he replies. You know it isn’t his fault, and knowing him, he wouldn’t have deliberately said anything that would’ve put you in this position. It could just be Jungkook misconstruing things, but you’ve been caught off guard and you don’t feel like dealing with anyone right now. 
Resuming your work, you do your last review of the expense report and leave it on his desk for his signature in the morning - a struggle considering how messy it is, which is also a rarity, as he always likes to keep things organized. You can tell how stressed he is just by this, and the thought hits you again that it’s the Board meeting in two days, and he needs you to be your best for him; he needs you to be calm and stable for him. 
Whatever you’re feeling can be pushed to the side until next week. You’ll talk to Yoongi after all this is over, you tell yourself; it’s more important that you focus on your tasks and just act as professionally and as unbothered as possible. 
That proves to be easy early the next morning. You go about preparing Jungkook’s day in his penthouse, going over your coordination and organization of the upcoming events and acting as if what happened yesterday doesn’t bother you, with him not acting out of the ordinary, too. It’s easy when you get to the office as well. He signs off on the expense reports and you go to finance with only minimal clarifications needed.
But when you return to your desk and Jungkook calls you to his room, you feel the tension start to build as you find Yoongi seated on the chair, his face turning sullen at the sight of you. 
You nod at him but look away immediately, shifting your gaze towards Jungkook. 
“What can I help you with, Mr. Jeon?”
“Deciding on the pieces to be displayed in the event halls of the Arts Center,” he replies. “Artist Lee Jaemin gave us her portfolio for us to choose from. And I’d like you and Yoongi to work on it together before lunch.”
This prompts you to look at Jungkook in surprise. He just told you off about the things you told Yoongi - which, to your defense, wasn’t even anything substantial - and now he’s making you work with the man.
“What about the run through of your presentation, sir?” You ask.
“I’ll do it with Manager Lee. His feedback will be adequate,” Jungkook replies. “I need your options because I’ll be speaking with her tonight about the chosen pieces.”
“I…, uh,” you stutter. “In what way can I be of help, Mr. Jeon? Wouldn’t Mr. Min be enough to make those decisions?”
“You hold the budget, Ms. Cho,” he reminds you. “We need to make sure we follow it. And you and Mr. Min understand my vision more than anyone and I need both of you to bring that to life with those artworks. I’m packed with meetings today so I don’t have time to sort through all of them. I trust that you’ll make the best decisions.”
“Of course we will, Jungkook,” Yoongi says, a bit of bitterness laced in it. “___ and I work well together. It isn’t the first time.”
Jungkook merely nods, and you feel the tension build up even more as both men share hardened looks that you can’t particularly decipher. 
“I… I’ll go ahead and prepare the conference room. I shall see you there shortly, Mr. Min.”
You exit the office and breathe a sigh of relief from being out of there. You don’t know what their friendship is like, so you’re unsure if the tension is a sign of something serious or if it’s just a normal thing for them. You choose to brush it off for now and prepare for the meeting, walking to the pantry for a cup of tea before you do. 
Back inside, both men remain unmoving, their gazes not faltering away from each other. Yoongi’s look of displeasure is a contrast to Jungkook’s somber, almost guilty face. 
“Driving a wedge between us is kind of an asshole move, you know?” Yoongi finally says. “I don’t know what your deal is but this isn’t how you make it up to her. You don’t get to be nice one day then just decide you’ll be jealous and irrational the next without her even knowing what she did.”
“That’s… that’s not what I was trying to do,” Jungkook reasons. 
“Then what were you trying to do?” Yoongi scoffs. “I was the one she turned down to have lunch with you. Actually, it was her plan, because she’s been spending so much time alone and she just wanted to hang out with a friend. And not only did you hinder that, you also made her feel like she did something wrong when all she said was that you had to talk about the Board meeting. No one would even bat an eye. Now she can’t even talk to me properly without fearing it’ll hurt your fragile ego.”
The truth is a huge slap on Jungkook’s face, and he feels it sting. He’s seen your comfort around his friend a few times. He also knows that Yoongi has been looking out for you when you fail to take care of yourself. And because of that jealousy and his fragile ego, you might just end up pushing Yoongi away, and isolating you is the last thing Jungkook wants to do.
He tries to say something but his throat dries up, knowing that verbalizing anything would prompt him to face feelings he’s trying so hard to suppress. He hopes Yoongi sees right through him, and the sullen look of the older man says he might.
“You’re not a bad person, Jungkook,” Yoongi says. “I don’t know what about her makes you like this. But if all you’ll do is find fault in everything she does, you’re gonna lose all the progress in your relationship. And you've got to know that’s not fair to her. You know she doesn’t deserve that.”
“She doesn’t.”
It’s the way Jungkook says the words that Yoongi knows his friend regrets what he’d done, perhaps not just yesterday but the other times as well. There’s this emptiness in Jungkook’s eyes that Yoongi hasn’t seen before; he doesn’t want the younger man to drown and lose himself in it.
“I’m… I’m, uh—”
“I know,” Yoongi interjects, knowing how hard it is for Jungkook to verbalize what he feels. “And I forgive you. I suggest you find the words and say them to her. Yeah?”
Jungkook merely nods, knowing that would be difficult for him, not because he won’t mean it but because they mean so much more. With you, it always does. 
“I’ll head to meet with her now.”
“Please fix it,” Jungkook almost pleads. “I think she needs you.”
Yoongi gives a look of understanding then heads out to the conference room where he finds you seated already. The lights are dim, allowing him to see Lee Jaemin’s art pieces projected on the wall. You’re focused on your laptop screen, not budging even as he opens the door and sits next to you.
“Are you still mad at me?” Yoongi asks, urging you to look at him.
“No,” you say softly.
“Then why do you act like you still are?” He asks sullenly. “You know I’m sorry.”
“It isn’t your fault though,” you reply, finally turning to him, your own soft eyes mirroring his. “You shouldn’t be apologizing.”
“But I want to. Because I know it matters that you hear the words even if they’re not from the person who needs to be saying them.”
“You know he doesn’t do that,” you sigh, knowing exactly who he means.
“He’ll have to learn how to. Or just stop having a reason to apologize in the first place.” 
“We’ll see about that,” you shrug. “But I’m sorry, too. I just didn’t know how to act yesterday and earlier. I just didn’t want any more drama.”
“I know, and it’s okay. It’s not your fault either. I had to call him out for it.”
“You did?”
“Yeah. I called him an asshole.”
“You–what?”
“Well, sort of. He had to hear it, and it seemed like he knew it, too. That's why he wanted me to fix things. Not that anything was broken, as far as I know.”
“Is that why he made me meet with you?”
“Yes, about something that he and I could easily do over coffee or a meal,” Yoongi chuckles. “But like I told you before - he tries. It’s usually just a misstep or something more complicated than actually saying sorry.”
“It’s hard for him to say, I guess. Maybe he just has his own ways of saying them.”
“It’s still not an excuse to be an asshole though.”
“At least you’re there to call him out for it,” you chuckle.
Yoongi laughs along, knowing it’s a role in Jungkook’s life that he wouldn’t mind taking. And just like that, the tension between the two of you is gone. He throws in a few jokes in there that take seconds for you to process, and it’s his crinkled smile that makes you smile and feel comfortable as well. It’s the icebreaker you need before getting to work, and it takes you both until lunchtime to decide on which of Lee Jaemin’s pieces you think would fit well in the event halls that Jungkook wants to put them in. 
It’s a different experience for you, as you’ve never made decisions like this before. You wouldn’t say you’re artistic in any sense, but Yoongi’s approval of your choices and agreement with your reasoning make you feel that you aren’t as design-blind as you think. And while Jungkook has the final say - you’re not even sure if your choices would make the final cut - it’s still satisfying to see the empty spaces come to life on your screen with artworks that you chose with Yoongi, while still being within budget.  
You both walk back to your work area where you see Manager Lee, and he tells you that Jungkook seems ready for tomorrow’s Board meeting. You enter his office with Yoongi, presenting what you’ve come up with - the greens and pinks common in her pieces give the room so much life, and the imperfections of her subjects leave viewers with much to admire. From the tropics to intimacy, the bright yet muted palette of the images elicits both joy and loneliness.
Jungkook goes through them while you and Yoongi look on.
“I’ll check each piece again later,” Jungkook says. “But these look good; I’d choose these myself.”
“___ chose most of them,” Yoongi says, earning him a glare from you.
“Is that so, Ms. Cho?” Jungkook asks.
“Mr. Min helped. And those pieces just spoke to me, I guess,” you answer shyly. “They’re beautiful pieces, Mr. Jeon. But I don’t have any arts or design background so please feel free to change them.”
“We’ll see,” he says, looking at you with a kind of affirmation that you’re not used to. 
You nod in response and check the time. He’s got another meeting in an hour and he should be having lunch soon.
“What would you like to eat, Mr. Jeon? I can get it for you,” you say.
“No need. I asked Mr. Ri to get me something. I figured you might have lunch plans,” Jungkook responds, glancing at you and then Yoongi. 
You look at the man next to you, who motions towards the door and you get what he means immediately. 
“Okay, Mr. Jeon. I’ll go take my break now.”
You walk out with Yoongi who asks you what you’re craving, and sweet and sour pork comes to mind. He chuckles at your excited face, and you grab your purse and head out, turning back once to catch Jungkook watching you walk away.
Maybe this is his apology. In whatever form it is, you’ll take it. You find sometimes that the silence in place of words means a lot more, in ways that feel more. 
The rest of your afternoon again feels like a blur, as you meet with the support team about the upcoming events and make sure everyone is on the same page. You spend an hour on the phone with Lucas about some Singapore and Malaysia-based Korean artists who are flying for the project launch in a few weeks while Jungkook goes from one virtual meeting to another. 
It’s 5:30 before you know it, and you’re working on your spreadsheets when Jungkook walks out of his office, saying that he’s meeting with Lee Jaemin later in the evening and that he’ll just update you about the final pieces. 
You acknowledge him and wish him goodbye, but he stops on the way, at the entrance towards the hallway, making sure he remains present while unable to see you.
“Ms. Cho,” he calls out, surprising you.
“Yes, Mr. Jeon?”
“About what I said yesterday, I apologize,” he says, almost stuttering. “Especially if it caused a rift between you and Yoongi. I didn’t intend that.”
You’re too shocked to say anything, much more process the words that you can’t believe he’s saying. But he really is apologizing; he really is trying.
“It… it’s okay, Mr. Jeon. I understand.”
There’s a beat of silence, and you’re left to observe him from this angle - jaws clenched, head bowed down. 
He deeply exhales. “I’ll go now. No need to stay late; you can go home when you’re able.”
“Okay, sir. Have a good night.”
He finally leaves, and the silence engulfs you. Sometimes, words in any form truly matter. You could only hope that Jungkook knows that.
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The suit that you choose for Jungkook for today’s big day is a dark gray textured piece. He looks immaculate as he stands before you, and you try your best to even your breathing as you fix his tie like you do every morning. There’s something about him today that makes him more handsome than usual - a quality that you’ve found yourself admitting and accepting more easily as the days go by. He exudes a certain kind of confidence and power with his attire and his parted hair. There’s determination in his eyes as he stands tall, ready to face the day. 
And you’re there, admiring the way he carries himself just inches away.
You fix the collar of his suit and make sure that all creases are flattened. You meet his eyes and the confidence melts away a little.
“Do I look respectable enough?” He asks, a little less serious than you expected. It’s when you see the nervousness in his eyes that you know how important today is for him.
“Yes,” you assure him. “You also look ready to impress the Board members with your presentation and get them on your side. I’m sure your vision about the Arts Center will make them believers.”
“Ah, well, that’s asking for too much, I guess,” he laughs dryly. “But I was on the call with Lee Jaemin last night and she was so excited for the launch. It would get her to visit Seoul often, she said, and that made me realize that artists like her and the consumers, the ordinary people, the ones who the Center is for - they’re the ones who matter. It’s their interest and appreciation that I value, not the Board’s.”
“That’s a good realization to come to, then, Mr. Jeon,” you smile, suddenly feeling like you’re seeing a different man - someone who cares about meaning and the power of art. “I suppose if that’s your mindset coming into the meeting, then you’ll definitely do well.”
“I think if there’s at least one other person who ends up believing in the value of the Center, that would be enough for me,” he says, holding your gaze for a while before turning away. “But uh, today is more than that. You and I both know they’re there to assess my capabilities - social and otherwise - and definitely point out what I lack, or probably tell me I’m not cut out for this job or that I’m terrible or something. I mean, you would know, right?”
His eyes, focused downward, slowly shift to you. You know what he means, and given that he isn’t the type to admit to things, this is probably the only other time that he comes close to acknowledging how he was to you.
“Mr. Jeon, if you’re indeed terrible, I would have quit after a week. Or… well, after the second day,” you admit. 
“Why didn’t you?”
“Well, I couldn’t afford to,” you chuckle to ease the tension. “But also I… I saw the change. And that’s always a good thing. Lacking something is normal. We all have things we need to work on but that doesn’t make us terrible people. That just means we need a bit of understanding from others. And that also means we just have to keep trying to be better.”
There’s a sullenness in Jungkook’s eyes but there’s acceptance and understanding, too. Perhaps it’s the most sincere you’ve seen him look, and of all the days that he needs assurance about how he’s been, today is when he needs it the most. Sure, there are still things about him that you wish he’d work on. He’s still not the best person in the world. He could still be a bit impulsive with you and can sometimes be irrational in your eyes and definitely needs work on dealing with his emotions. But he’s trying. That always counts for something.
“We do,” he nods.
“Your father believes in you. Hoseok believes in you, so does Yoongi.” Holding his gaze, you add, “so do I. So trust in yourself. If you can’t do it for you, you can do it for us.”
“Is giving pep talks part of the job description?” 
“It should,” you giggle. “But I’ve given several of them to Mr. Jung. I’ve learned that during stressful moments or just when we’re a little overwhelmed, it makes a difference to hear the things we already know from someone else.”
“I’m a little stubborn, but I hope you continue doing that for me. For as long as you think I deserve it.”
Jungkook doesn’t know where the honesty and vulnerability are coming from. But he’s found that with you, it’s natural - difficult because they’re things he rarely is around other people, but natural. He doesn’t want to question it anymore for fear of learning what else is instinctive for him when it comes to you. But with the way his insides melt with how you sweetly and assuringly smile at him, he realizes that his defenses against you are not that strong to begin with.   
“Well, we don’t have time to pass by a cafe for a nice breakfast so I asked Mr. Ri to get some instead,” you announce, changing the subject now. 
You walk towards the dining room where he follows, and you present a spread of pastries, walnut tarts, and sausage rolls alongside a large cup of coffee. 
“I don’t really eat before a big meeting,” he says, frowning a little. “I’m sure Lucas told you that.”
“He did, but I’m a little stubborn, too,” you counter. “Breakfast is important before a big meeting, Mr. Jeon. It’ll help you focus, even if that’s just one tart or half a danish or a quarter of a roll. Eating will improve your energy levels and lift your mood. It might help ease your nerves somehow.”
“Fine, but I’ll just have half a roll.”
“No worries. You can always eat some more throughout the day,” you say.
Jungkook ends up finishing the entire roll and a walnut tart, while you finish a danish and settle for tea. You pack up what’s left, and he instructs you to give the rest to the team. 
The car ride is quiet, save for the gentle sound of his pencil gliding through the pages of his leather notebook. He seems to be channeling his energy in a way that allows him to be calm, you think, and that’s a good thing. 
You arrive at the building and Jungkook goes straight to his office while you excuse yourself to go to the conference room to help the other assistants prepare it. You don’t see Jungkook until an hour later when he enters, and you lead him to his seat then serve his coffee afterwards. It gets busy quickly as the Board members arrive, and you help in ushering them to their seats and catering to their needs. Before you know it, the assistants are heading out, leaving them and the executives to discuss confidential matters that none of you are required to know.
It’s another two hours before the presentations start, but Jungkook won’t go until after lunch. So you settle in your desk and work on various things, unable to fully focus because your mind constantly goes to him. 
This is normal, you convince yourself; you had the same nervous energy for Hoseok the first time he did this. But then again, it was your first time, too. Perhaps it’s knowing how much it means to Jungkook and his own worries that makes you feel uneasy.
You understand the feeling of wanting to prove oneself, and not always being able to fully express that desire to others. He’s been honest with you recently, and sometimes it can feel quite isolating when no one is there to share the burden, which is why you’ve been trying to cheer him up and encourage him, in hopes that he’ll feel supported, that whatever happens today, he knows he has you on his side.
You proceed to the function hall for the catered lunch where you meet Jungkook. He shares the table with Hoseok and Bitna, as well as Ji-woo and her assistant, and you engage in conversation with them like old times. 
Jungkook watches you speak to his cousins casually but respectfully, and he doesn’t miss the inside jokes and personal details that you all share. You still look a little reserved, but there’s this comfort in the way you express yourself around people who trust and care for and respect you. 
He’s always known Hoseok and Ji-woo to be great with the employees, and a part of Jungkook envies that they’re able to just share parts of themselves with others, that they’re able to expend their time and energy being around them, something that’s always been difficult for him. He likes his privacy, likes his own space; he revels in the silence to battle the noise in his head. He’s protective of his thoughts and his feelings; he’s particular with who uses his time and energy on; he keeps his distance because it’s always easier - to not be involved, to not be invested, to not be known at all rather than be judged because of what people know. 
He also thinks it’s quite isolating. Outside of his family - whom he keeps his distance from as well - the only person who knows him enough is Lucas, but it’s as shallow as just knowing his preferences and his technical opinion on things, not his dreams or fears or everyday thoughts and emotions. 
Jungkook isn’t someone that people go to for advice or for encouraging words; he’s not someone that people ask about how he’s doing; he’s not a person that others seek for comfort or warmth. He’s just a man who does his work, that people serve, that people want approval from for their own gains. He’s not someone they’d go through lengths for. He just takes up space that others orbit around but he’s not the center of their world; he isn’t anybody’s.
“Is everything okay, Mr. Jeon?” You disrupt his thoughts. “Is there anything you want?”
“Chocolate milk,” he says too quickly. “Uh, only if there is.”
“Hot?”
“Yes.”
You call the server and ask if they have any, but the man says they don’t, so you decide to head to one of the stalls at the food hall downstairs.
“You don’t have to,” Jungkook says, pulling your wrist in reflex as you stand up.
You’re caught off guard and so is he, and he immediately lets go and apologizes for it. The guilt in his eyes is similar to the one you saw at the restaurant when you’d admitted that he made you feel uncomfortable, and something about it makes you feel moved. 
“I mean, uh, it’s okay. It’s not urgent,” he adds, looking away.
“If it’ll help, then I should get it for you, Mr. Jeon,” you insist. “It won’t take long. I’ll be back before lunch ends.”
You don’t wait for a response and head out, leaving Jungkook with curious looks from his cousins.
“So, I see you’ve warmed up to her already,” Ji-woo hums, smiling. 
“You could say that,” Jungkook shrugs, acting nonchalant.
“Well, it’s about time you did,” Ji-woo shakes her head. “She works incredibly hard and she’s very reliable.” At the younger man’s nod in agreement, she adds, “you just had to give her a chance. There’s a reason why uncle and Hoseok wanted her around for you.”
“I guess,” Jungkook hums. “She’s… she’s a good person. I don’t really know if I deserve that but she is to me. She’s required to be, I suppose.”
“Or she sees you as a human being who needs a bit of warmth and joy in his life,” Ji-woo suggests. “Kindness goes a long way, you know? She’s said before that there are people who have extended it to her and maybe she’s just doing that, too.”
“Or maybe she sees something in you,” Hoseok says now. 
“Like what?” Jungkook scoffs, knowing himself that after he’s treated you, there’s no way you’d see something in him, whatever that is.
“Like an emptiness, or yearning. Something she feels, too,” Hoseok responds. “Maybe she’s unknowingly making you feel something that she wants to feel herself, you know? I had A-yeong, my sister, my parents, my friends... Seeing her now with you, she didn’t pay attention to my every need the way she’s doing now, and that’s not a criticism of her. Perhaps she just knew that I had other people to do that.”
“And I’m the lonely, single, friendless man that she’s stuck with,” Jungkook laughs dryly, although he’s not offended. Deep down, he knows it’s true.
“Sort of,” Hoseok chuckles. “But what I really mean is that she knows what it’s like to not have someone to look after her like that. You may think it’s just her job but I think it’s her not wanting you to feel like there’s no one there for you. Maybe if you see it that way, you wouldn’t think you don’t deserve it. Then you can accept it and maybe you can do the same.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Jungkook counters, given that keeping his distance is exactly what he plans to do because any closer would just lead him down a path that he won’t be able to escape from.
“It’s not that deep,” Ji-woo says. “I think what my brother is saying is that it’s okay to be friends, you know? Or just allow her to be nice to you and then return the favor. It’s a much better dynamic. I mean, I’m sure he’s told you but things are just gonna be more challenging down the road, once you’re past the adjusting phase. You’ll need her like you’ve never needed anyone before. I do mean that professionally, but that also requires a kind of relationship where you know and trust and respect each other. It goes both ways.”
Jungkook takes in his cousins’ words, knowing that they speak from experience, and they’ve been doing this longer than he has. He already knows he needs you. That itself terrifies him. He also knows he has to rely on you, and maybe that entails allowing you to care for him in ways that no one - not since Chaerin, at least - has ever done before. That means letting you come close, allowing you to know him, letting you be there for him. Doing the same for you isn’t a question of whether he wants to or not - he’ll probably be denying it to his grave, but it’s about whether he can remain within the boundaries he set for himself, knowing already how you affect him without even doing much. 
The thought gives Jungkook a headache, but it’s not something he can give attention to right now. He’s got a presentation to do in less than an hour. He’ll be scrutinized and questioned and probably judged and then he realizes it again - he needs you through all that. He already knows you’ll be encouraging and supportive; you’ve shown that in the past week especially, and he’s appreciated and hated every single moment of it.
The hurried footsteps signal that you’re back, and you take your seat next to him.
You’re panting as you place the cup on the table. “Here you go, Mr. Jeon. I’m not sure if it’s as milky as you want it but the really good cafe downstairs said it should be good. Oh and uh, wrap your hands around it,” you instruct, earning you a curious look. “Your hands are very cold.”
Jungkook does as you say, feeling the warmth of the drink through his skin, even more when he takes a sip and finds that it tastes just as he wanted. 
“This is good. Thank you,” he utters, not wanting to meet your eyes.
You exhale a sigh of relief. You know how he has particular tastes and you just went with a hot chocolate even if he specifically said he wanted chocolate milk. There’s a brand he likes from Lucas’ list and you didn’t have time to actually get it or even store the office pantry with it - which you realize now you should do, and you make a mental note of doing an inventory so you could request for more of the things he likes later on.
“You’re welcome,” you reply. “I… I hope it helps for the presentation. Or the nerves. Or just in general.”
“It has,” he confirms, humming with every sip.
Not long after, everyone is instructed to head back to the conference room so the meeting can resume. You take your seat with the other assistants at the side after you’ve ensured that the presentation is ready while Jungkook heads to the front. You watch him go through his notes a final time, and when he sets them aside and looks up, his eyes find yours.
They’re still tainted with worry, you can tell even from several feet away. So you give him a comforting smile, knowing it’s what he needs. You gently nod and give him a double thumbs up as if to say that he can do it, and he nods back, as if to say that he’ll do his best.
And that’s exactly what he does.
The presentation goes for a quarter of an hour, and while he does give a good rundown of the achievements of the past three months, it’s his pitch of the Arts Center that really makes him shine. The visuals are good to begin with. He did those blueprints himself and the designs give life to his vision, but he explains every aspect of the project with just enough detail to enable the audience to imagine how it looks and what it makes them feel. He took into consideration earlier worries about profits and brand reputation, as well as anticipated questions and points of attack, so he goes ahead and addresses them to the point that he can’t be scrutinized for anything that’s lacking. He keeps in mind the qualities of each Board member, so he makes eye contact if he needs to and acknowledges side comments and builds on them. 
He’s definitely added more - and improved - since that first runthrough you did with him, and he looks very confident and very respectable. You can tell that he values not just profits but art itself - its creation, its appreciation, and the various ways it can be experienced. As someone who yearns for that kind of passion for something, seeing him like this is quite moving. 
It doesn’t help that he looks as good as he does standing up there, and it’s a thought you let yourself have before dispelling it quickly. 
He gets approving nods from most of the Board members. The rest still look a bit doubtful, but you suppose they wouldn’t directly criticize Jungkook and his plans in front of everyone after a presentation like that. You also take a peak at CEO Jeon who’s unable to hide how proud he is of his son. Hoseok and Ji-woo exchange smiles as well. But Jungkook remains focused, ready to answer any questions or comments from the Board.
Mr. Mun is the first to commend him and doesn’t ask much. Mr. Im surprisingly praises Jungkook after admitting his reservations, and Mr. Saito, as you expected, asks clarificatory questions that just builds on what was earlier presented. Jungkook’s readiness and creativity are highlighted as well, and you can tell that the older man is extremely excited for this project. 
The hour is up before you know it, with only minimal questions and a few comments from the attendees. Ji-woo and Hoseok raise points to help with marketing and earning profit, and you take note of all those for discussion and debriefing next week. 
Jungkook thanks everyone before returning to his seat, and you see the breath he lets out after, seemingly glad that that’s at least over. You catch his attention again, and you can’t help your smile. He acknowledges you with a nod, and he turns his focus towards Hoseok as the next presenter. The afternoon goes by like this, with Ji-woo going last and CEO Jeon closing out the meeting. 
There’s some time before the fellowship dinner, which is spent with side conversations and check-ins. Mr. Saito goes to Jungkook right away and you see the latter’s face light up a little, although you don’t miss the sniffing and the throat clearing that he does. You think that his cold hands earlier weren’t due to his nervousness; perhaps the last month has finally caught up to him because you truly believe that this man does not rest. 
You head out to return to your desk, knowing you’ve got several things to do before the dinner that assistants are invited to. You fly through your notes from earlier and some administrative tasks before heading back to the event hall where you find Jungkook talking to Mrs. Seo and Mr. Ong this time, two people who’d most likely be critical of him so you’re glad that he’s at least forging some relations, if their animated way of speaking is any indication. 
You see him excuse himself to head to the washroom, and you take this time to order a cup of ginseng tea for him. It arrives just as he returns to his seat, and when it registers why you’d ordered it, he nods and mumbles his thanks.
“If I may, perhaps you shouldn’t stay long, Mr. Jeon,” you suggest. “It’s been a tiring week and you need to rest.”
Jungkook hates being told what to do, but he’s also never had someone tell him to rest because he needs it, much less even know that he’s not feeling alright. 
“I need to engage with the Board,” he reasons. “I’m sure that’s what father would like. I can rest during the weekend.”
“Okay, sir,” you sigh, knowing he’s also right. Perhaps he’s accepted that this is a critical part of his new role as Vice President. “Just let me know if there’s anything more that I can help you with.”
“I will.”
You sit at the table where the other assistants are, engaging in hushed conversations as you talk about the Board members and how tired you all are. It’s nice being around them, as you all share the experience of stress and isolation, of knowing too much sometimes, of security and stagnancy. They know what you’re going through, partially at least - unlike you, they have people to go home to and proper hobbies that excite them. They have loved ones close by and things they look forward to during the weekends. So while they do make you feel understood, you also can’t help but be a bit jealous. 
Your thoughts are suspended when Bitna offers to take you home. It’s well past 9 and you’re not keen on staying longer to drink with the rest of the big bosses here. You glance at Jungkook who has a wine in hand, clearly trying his best to keep up with the conversations he’s a part of. He looks incredibly tired - much more than usual - and you feel bad that this isn’t something you can help him with. 
You take Bitna’s offer and you both head to your respective bosses to bid your goodbyes. Jungkook nods and mentions his meeting with the artist last night that he says he’ll discuss with you on Monday. There’s more you want to say, but you worry he’ll think you’re nagging about his health - which, you remind yourself, is also part of your job - and you don’t want to end the week on a sour note. 
Jungkook watches you leave the event hall and he immediately feels your absence. Even when you spent much of your time apart, he could feel you there, partly because of the ginseng tea that you ordered for him twice at your insistence and partly because the knowledge that you’re around is enough. And now you aren’t, and he suddenly can’t stand any more of the socializing he has to do. 
But he powers through it for another hour. When he bids his father goodbye, the older man commends him for his presentation earlier and the way he handled himself throughout the fellowship dinner. It’s assuring, but he knows there’s so much more work to be done so he doesn’t revel in it any longer than a few seconds. 
The drive home is quiet. His soft groans as he massages his temples are the only sounds in the car. When he arrives at his empty penthouse, he grabs a bottle of whiskey from the counter and sits on the couch - a glass in hand, necktie and buttons undone, feet on the coffee table, and head rolled back as he reminds himself that he survived the day, that he did a good job, and that he changed some of the Board members’ minds about him. 
And much as he tries to keep away the image of you, he’s unable to - there you were in the room, on his side, cheering him on. He didn’t miss the satisfied smile on your face once he finished his presentation, nor your look of worry after the ginseng tea was placed on the table. 
You’re just good at that - making him feel like someone looks out for him, that someone else minds that he succeeds, that someone cares that he’s not well and that he should rest. 
The smile on his face fades once he’s reminded that you’re supposed to do all that, and that he isn’t anyone special, nor should he be. It’s the thought that keeps him behind the lines - you’re unattainable in so many ways, yet he’s also glad that you are. It’s easier to be mindful of his place like that; it’s easier to accept that you’re you and he’s him, and it’s easier to do his job when he knows you’re just doing yours.
At least, that’s what he hopes. 
But when he gets a call from reception the next morning about a package that you dropped off, all that wishful thinking seems pointless. And as he stares at the bowl of chicken noodle soup in front of him, all his thoughts from the night before come crashing down.
Why is everything so hard when it comes to you?
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weasleykisses · 6 months
Text
Never His (Remus Lupin x Reader)
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A/N: when James needs help asking out Lily, he enlists you to play his fake girlfriend to make her jealous. In the process, you end up making Remus Lupin green with envy.
18+ Version Here
Word count: 6.2k
You weren’t expecting James to throw himself into the chair across from you in the library, his face holding the most desperate of looks. He brushed his messy hair back from his forehead as he got situated in the seat. James looked like he had run all the way across the school to find you. You raised a brow, peering up from the textbook on the desk that you were trying to study. Remus turned to stare at his friend as well, taking a break from his own reading. 
“Y/N, I need your help. It’s super important.” That could mean a lot of things, you thought. He was known for being quite the drama queen after all. 
You replied smoothly, “I’m afraid I’ve got to hear the terms and conditions before I agree to anything.”
“Be my girlfriend,” James said bluntly. This took you by surprise. Your jaw fell slack, looking at him as if he had two heads. Was he insane or just incredibly stupid? What the hell happened to his obsession with Lily Evans? Since you met the boy in third year, he hadn’t shut up about the beautiful redheaded girl. She was certainly a catch too, with her looks and her brains. Who wouldn’t want to be with a girl like that?
You could feel Remus sit up straight as a board in the seat beside you, staring over at James with his eyes narrowed. The change was barely noticeable. James probably missed it; he was never very perceptive. You, other hand, noticed. Of course you did. You noticed everything about Remus. He was like a novel you had read a million times, comforting and familiar. Anything out of place, you took notice of. 
You could certainly feel the tension coming off of Remus is waves. He never liked when James and Sirius fucked around with people for the hell of it. It wasn’t that he was a stick in the mud or anything, it was just that he hated when those two disturbed his peace with you. Hated it. Couldn’t he spend a few hours away from them? Enough time to appreciate your company?
Cautiously, you asked, “James, have you gone mad?”
He shook his head, eagerly reaching across the table and clasping both your hands between his, shaking them with excitement. “No, I have not! I’ve actually come up with a brilliant plan, but it will only work if you agree to help me out,” he said a bit too quickly, and you furrowed your brows, still awfully confused by the entire thing. 
Remus was silent, just observing. He was angry, how could he not be? You were his girl. Well, not really. He had never asked you out, or implied he wanted you to be his girlfriend. But everyone knew that he liked you, maybe not you yourself, but everyone else. This included James. He should know better than to ask you out, especially right in front of him. It was cruel.
He wanted to argue with his best mate, James. Give him a shove in the shoulder and tell him to fuck right off. He refrained though. He wasn’t that bold, nor did he have the right to control what you did with your life. He wasn’t your boyfriend. He wouldn’t ever be your boyfriend. He just had to keep his mouth shut. 
“Mind explaining then, Prongs?” you asked, pulling your hands from his grasp to cross your arms over your chest and leaning back in the chair.
“Be my girlfriend, just for a couple weeks, maybe a month. I’ll do anything you want if you help me out.”
“Why would you want me to be your girlfriend for any amount of time?” you scolded him. 
“I want to make Lily jealous. The only way I can do that is showing her that I’ve moved on to other girls, but I don’t actually want to date anyone else,” he said, “You’re one of my best mates, and I don’t have to worry about you catching feelings for me like the other girls would.” He cracked a grin when you rolled your eyes at his cockiness. James wasn’t ugly, but he also didn’t have girls falling over themselves to be with him like Sirius did.
“Oh, thank Godric. I thought you actually wanted me to be your girlfriend.”  
“Of course not. You’re like a little sister to me,” he laughed.
“Anyway, what would I have to do?”
Be my fake girlfriend for a month and I’ll buy you anything you want. We only have to pretend when we’re in front of other people, especially the girls. It’s basically fool-proof.”
“More like foolish, you dumbass,” you sighed. It wasn’t the worst proposition, considering James and his family were rich as fuck. He really could buy you anything you desired.
Remus was pretending that he didn’t care, his eyes trailed back down to the novel in his hands. James was just up to no good again, nothing out of the ordinary. He was hoping you would decline James’ request, but he knew that wasn’t going to happen. You were great friends with James, and were usually willing to help him out in any way you could. He hated that he had to sit there and listen to you discuss plans to date like it was completely normal. 
“Please, Y/N, please. You're the nicest girl I know. You gotta help a friend out,” he begged.
Just shut the fuck up, James. Remus thought to himself. He would never say it aloud though. 
“Fine. I expect half of Honeydukes inventory as compensation, but I’ll do it,” you told him with a heavy sigh. He punched the air enthusiastically then hugged you so tightly around the middle that he lifted you from your chair and swung you around in his arms. He was quite strong from being a dedicated chaser, after all. You laughed nervously, pushing against his shoulders so he would set you back down. “Really, it’s no big deal. I’m doing this because I think you and Lily would be cute together, alright?” You told him.
“Yes, ma’am,” he replied swiftly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Sit next to me at dinner today. We’ll play it up then, make it public.”
“Okay.”
He turned around after giving you one last thumbs up, rushing out of the room to no doubt tell Sirius about his plan. They did everything together, so of course Pads would either figure it out himself or find out after James caved and explained himself. You took a seat again in the wooden library chair, sinking down with your hand pinching the bridge of your nose. 
“I don’t know why you entertain him,” Remus finally commented. He sounded bitter, but you figured it was just because your study session was interrupted. 
“No harm done. I get a bunch of candy, he gets one step closer to the girl of his dreams,” you reasoned, resting your cheek in the palm of your hand. 
If you were being honest, you wished that it was Remus asking you to be his girlfriend, but Remus didn’t care for you like that. You were just friends. Both of you enjoyed your quiet time together, whether you were reading or drinking a cup of tea. You liked to go to Hogsmeade together and drink butterbeer in a booth, talking about nothing and everything at the same time. It was something the other boys weren’t interested in. You could try hanging out with Lily, Dorcas, and Marlene, but they would always drift off to talking about boys, James in particular.
Remus just had a way of keeping your attention, entertaining your curious mind. You two had become so close over the years because of it.
You were the one that snuck into their dorm on nights after the full moon, healing potions in your pockets and bandages at the ready to clean up his injuries. You didn’t mind that he was a werewolf, in fact, you thought it was pretty interesting. It compelled you to work harder in your studies to be a healer, so one day you might be able to lessen his pain. Needless to say, you really liked Remus. He was handsome, tall, positively dreamy, and oh-so-sweet like honey and sugar. He was one of a kind, and you would be lying if you said his determination to stay just friends didn’t sting a little. 
But the world keeps turning whether or not the boy you fancy likes you back. You tipped your head down again to study the text in front of you. Studying was especially hard now that you couldn’t think of anything other than James asking you to be his girlfriend before you mustered the courage to ask Remus.
______
The next time you saw James was at dinner that evening. You sat beside him after he waved you over. Normally you would sit on the opposite side with Remus flush against you to make room for everyone else at the table. Today, Sirius sat beside Remus and you took Sirius’ seat right beside James. He slung his arm around your shoulders to get you closer to him. 
The brunette practically pulled you into his lap with how eager he was, and you yelped, garnering the attention of the other boys at the table. Remus scowled, turning his head down to glare into his soup. James didn’t have to be so dramatic. Lily would get the point without all the theatrics. 
In fact, Lily was sitting at the other end of the table with her eyes trained on you and James. She looked a little perturbed, and when James turned to glance down the table, she quickly turned her head away, pretending she wasn’t at all interested. Real smooth, Lily. 
You knew Lily liked James, at least a tiny bit. She talked about him far too often not to. You were in a few classes together, and James was a frequent topic of discussion. While Lily would never admit to her crush, she hinted at it here and there. It was a similar situation for you and Remus, who you vehemently denied having a crush on for a few years now. Lily was probably shocked to see you in the arms of someone else. 
You played it up for the crowd, people from the surrounding tables looking at the both of you and whispering amongst themselves. Y/N and James? How scandalous. 
Your hands were clasped together, fingers intertwined and sitting between you on the table for everyone to see, and it disgusted Remus. Sirius was practically gagging at the sight of two of his best friends being so openly affectionate, but at least his disgust was jokingly. Remus was genuinely disturbed. He wanted to leave the dining hall and head right to his dorm for the night, just to avoid the pangs of betrayal assaulting his heart.
He ducked his head to take a deep breath, trying to pretend like nothing was wrong. That James and the girl of his dreams openly acting like a couple wasn’t completely tearing him to shreds.
He figured Sirius caught on to how he was feeling because the black haired boy turned to him with a sympathetic, half smile, as if to say “what can you do?”. 
“I missed you today, babe,” your voice dripped out, oozing with fake attraction. A sickly bright smile crossed your lips as you looked at James. Even worse so, James leaned forward and gave you a kiss to your cheek, and it didn’t even phase you. Since when were you and James so close? Even with the two of you playing it up, Remus never expected you to be so casual about it. It was like flirting with James came to you so naturally.
The pair of you laughed together and faked lovey dovey smiles here and there. It seemed to work too, because after only about ten minutes of PDA, Lily was packing her belongings and marching right out of the Great Hall with Mary following closely behind, most likely to console her. James grinned even brighter at that and pumped his fist in the air. 
“I think it’s working,” he said happily, and you nodded. You still had to hold hands, to keep up the image for everyone who didn’t know it was fake, but at least you could chill out a bit without her around. You sipped on the baked potato soup in front of you. 
“Working a little too well, don’t you think? What if she gets so upset that she moves on from you completely?” Remus asked, rather grouchy as he did so. He felt so sick to his stomach, unable to take another bite of his dinner without his inside churning. 
He decided he was done with his dinner after looking up to his two friends all cuddled up with each other, deciding he had better things to do than endure this torture. He packed his bag and stood. You watched him stand, and quickly followed, gathering your belongings just as he did. 
“Rem, wait up. Where are you going?” It wasn’t like him to leave dinner so early. You figured something was wrong. Your worries were only confirmed when he let out a long, exhausted sigh. You knew him too well to let him sneak past unscathed. 
“I just need to take a walk. Not feeling the best,” he lied. Well, technically it was true. He felt like shit, just not in the way he wanted them to think. 
Behind your back, you missed the look Sirius and James shared, that sneaky smirk coming to rest across James’ face. You also missed the way Peter snickered a bit under the cover of his hand. His friends were absolutely awful for doing this to him, but they thought it was the only way to wring a confession out of him. Hit two birds with one stone, as they say. Get both Lily and Remus jealous at the same time, hopefully uniting two perfect couples in the process. 
“Well, I’m coming with you. We can go take a walk in the courtyard.” He didn’t protest as you hurried to catch up him and his long legs, your robes flying behind you as you rushed ahead. Just because you were “dating” James didn’t mean you were going to ignore Remus when you thought something was wrong.
And so, you followed your tall friend out of the dining hall into the hallway, making a b-line for the exit doors heading into the transfiguration courtyard. He felt a little better knowing you were with him and not cuddled up to Potter anymore. He was incredibly jealous, not that he would do anything about it. He didn’t even have the right to be jealous either. He had to remind himself time and time again, you weren’t his. You never were and most likely never would be. 
It wasn’t long before the pair of you found your ways to a covered bench in the courtyard, sitting side by side, staring at the fountain in the middle of the snow dusted grass, looking into the pool of frozen water complete with golden coins preserved in the bottom. It was a muggle tradition that some students brought from home to the castle. They’d throw a coin in and make a wish, hoping it to come true.
There had been a few times you tossed a galleon in there, begging Merlin himself to give you what you wished for most in the world. The boy sitting right beside you, in fact. You had been making those same wishes for years now, and each time you were let down. Remus never asked you to be his girlfriend, nor did he kiss you in the rain like you always fantasied about. He hadn’t noticed the hints you would give him about how you felt, either ignoring them or choosing to be oblivious to them.
You cried many tears over the years because of your feelings for the boy. How conflicted you felt about confessing to him. You worried you would miss your opportunity and he would move onto another girl, but you also feared for your friendship. You didn’t want to make things awkward and lose him completely.
You watched the snowflakes as they fell around fountain, wondering what happened to all those wishes. Every wish you made begging to finally be his.
“Aren’t you cold?” he asked, looking down at your skirt and knee high socks, a thin slit between them exposing your bare skin to the frigid, snowy air. 
You shook your head, snapping out of your daze. “I’ll survive,” you laughed, pressing your forehead to his shoulder. “What’s on your mind?”
“Really, Y/N, it’s nothing.”
“The only other time I’ve seen you storm out of the dining hall before having dessert was the day Sirius put a whoopie cushion under your seat. You can’t lie to me, sweetheart.” He felt his heart pang in his chest at the nickname you always used for him. He wanted to be your sweetheart, to love and kiss you whenever he wanted. To hug you to his chest and profess his love into your ear. He wanted to hold hands with you during lunch, and to have you sit in his lap in the common rooms, regardless of who was around to see. He wanted everything to do with you.  He wanted to just drown in your soft words and your gentle touches.
 But he knew, just because you want something doesn’t mean you’ll get it. It felt like he needed you, to breathe, to eat, to sleep, to function like a normal human being. Maybe it was his naive 18 year old brain telling him these things, but he swore that he loved you more than anyone could imagine. He loved you from the tip of your nose all the way down to your feet. Every inch was perfectly tailored just how he liked it.
“Whatever it is, you’re gonna be alright,” you assured, nudging his shoulder gently with your own. For a moment, he forgot about the entire James situation and just thought of you, how you made him feel, and he did feel alright. He always felt safe when you were around. Even when he was his most vulnerable after a full moon, he trusted you to care for him. 
James didn’t know you nearly as well as Remus did. He knew it was stupid to worry about you catching feelings for the brunette chaser with a wicked grin, but he couldn’t help it. Not when he had seen girls flock to his two attractive best friends for years. He knew it was stupid, and he knew he should live in the moment. 
In this moment, he had you to himself. He could pretend you were his, all he ever wanted. 
“I guess you’re right,” he mumbled, fiddling with the strap of his bag. “You always know how to make things better.”
“Me? What about you? You always know just the right things to say.”
He wanted to say just how much he loved you. He could feel the words stuck in the back of his throat, and he just wanted to cough them up. You took his breath away, literally.
It was quiet for a long time, just the two of you sitting there quietly, listening to the chilly breeze flying through. Your hand rested beside his on the bench, your fingers close enough that if you moved a couple centimeters you would be touching. What he wouldn’t give to hold your hand in his and press kisses to your knuckles.
He needed you, and he was just so scared. Seeing you with James made him upset enough, but the thought of losing you completely made him feel worse. Your time at Hogwarts was ending soon, and he worried so much, overthinking every little thing.
He wondered if you thought about the same things. If you worried about your life when you graduated. Where you would go and what kind of person you’d turn out to be. He knew you spent a lot of time working on healing spells, assisting in the infirmary when you could. You wanted to be a healer at St. Mungos, saving people.
Maybe you could save him, too, keep his head above water when things got difficult. The life of a werewolf is never easy, and he couldn’t imagine what it would be like without you by his side to ease the pain.
“When we are done with all this- Hogwarts, I mean…You’ll keep contact with me, right?” he asked, feeling that familiar sickness churn in his stomach, afraid of what you might say. He knew you would never say something cruel, but he found himself preparing for it each time. He was afraid he would never hear from you again once you found a good job at the hospital taking care of patients, running around each day busier than the next. 
He felt the self-deprecation sneaking back in. 
You nodded your head furiously. “Of course! I would never forget about you, Remus, you know that right?” When he didn’t respond, you reached up to take both his cheeks in your cold hands. You ran your thumbs along the scars across his face ever so delicately, he felt like you were running a feather against his skin. He sighed into your touch, leaning his head into your hand. “You’re my best friend. Nothing and no one could ever take me away from you.”
Bravely, he reached out so his strong, calloused palm rested on your thigh, his fingers pressing warmly against that gap between your socks and your uniform skirt. Shivers ran down your spine at the touch. He was so gentle with you, it made your heart melt into goo at the mere thought of his touch. You were sure he could hear your heart beginning to race with how hard it pumped in your chest, how excited he was making you. 
“What did I do to deserve you?” he murmured, just loud enough for you to hear him over the wind blowing against your ears. 
“If anything, I don’t deserve you.” You ducked your head as you felt heat rush into your cheeks. “You’re perfect, Remus. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”
After taking a deep breath, he started, stumbling a bit over his words, “Y/N- I have something to tell you.”
And you swore he was going to kiss you. As he stared down into your eyes, his eyes flickering down to your lips a few times. You waited for it, sitting there in anticipation, watching his every move. You felt his hand resting on your thigh, rubbing small circles against your bare skin. Goosebumps rose to the surface and you shivered more from the contact than the cold breeze whipping against your face. 
You were sure he was going to kiss you, if only the doors to the courtyard didn’t burst open with students barrelling through the doorways. Quickly, you pulled your hands down to your lap and he shoved his hand into his pocket. Your eyes trailed to the ground, and you mentally cursed yourself for being too slow, for not kissing him yourself when you thought the time was right. 
Maybe he didn’t intend to kiss you. Maybe he was confused and was just showing you affection to reciprocate your own. Either way, you felt a spark with Remus that you hadn’t felt with anyone else. The kind you think you’ll only know once in a lifetime. 
Whether you were fake dating James or not, you weren’t going to let that feeling go.
______
You two were the star couple of the party that night, standing in the middle of a celebration for Gryffindor, James holding a cup of liquor in his hand, and you carrying something fruity. He had his arm hooked around your neck, pulling you in close so his lips just barely skimmed over your ear. You smiled, finding the feeling of his skin against your ear and the breaths he was exhaling to be quite ticklish. 
Lily was behind you, watching from the corner as she sipped on something nonalcoholic. She was never a drinker, and that just made it all the more infuriating for her to see you two dancing so intimately while she was stone-cold sober. 
“I reckon she’s getting close to her breaking point, doll. You’ll be getting a shitload of candy once she approaches me about this entire thing,” he whispered and you laughed, nodding your head in agreement. Dating James wasn’t actually that bad. The only downside was that Remus wasn’t spending nearly as much time with you as before. Probably because you had to spend most of the day following James around to keep up the illusion of this whirlwind love affair. 
It hurt, not seeing your best friend. You missed his company. He was your favorite person ever, with his pretty eyes and his adorable smile. The way his sandy hair would fall over his eyes was effortlessly beautiful, and his sweaters made him look so intelligent and mature, two qualities you loved in men. James was unfortunately neither of those things. Perhaps that’s what made “dating” him so simple. There were no surprise feelings between you two because the things you each wanted in a significant other were completely different. 
You wanted a Remus in your life. Someone so handsome it had you swoon. Someone kind and soft and gentle around the edges. Someone with a sweet tooth and a pretty smile that you could stare at for days without getting bored of it. You loved to talk to him about anything and everything, he just made it all so interesting. You wanted someone who shared your love of books, candy, and peace and quiet. Remus Lupin was all of that and more. 
He was just so lovely. You wished he was the one you were dancing with and not James. You wished that it was his lips pressed to your ear, whispering sweet nothings to you instead of these nonsensical plans of making a certain redhead jealous.
He sat on the couch, talking with Peter about something that happened in potions that morning. He looked stunning with his face lit up by the flames in the fireplace. If only you could walk over there and take a picture, keep it forever, look at it whenever you were feeling down.
He glanced up at you every now and again, just checking. He never looked for very long though, turning his head down with a grimace on his face each time. Remus couldn’t stand the sight of you so intimate with someone else, even if he knew it was all fake.
But how was he supposed to know if you’d accidentally grown feelings for his friend over the course a few weeks. You’d gotten much closer, hugging and kissing on the cheeks and forehead quite often. You laughed when James told jokes no matter how stupid they were. You attended his quidditch matches, which you hated doing before this entire mess.
Remus was afraid you changed your mind somehow. That you now thought James Potter was someone you could see yourself dating for real.
He couldn’t handle the thought, feeling himself beginning to crumble. He tried to maintain the conversation with Peter, only to feel himself zoning out, eyes trailing over to you helplessly every time.
You wrapped your arms around James’ neck, dancing slowly at the song that played over the record player. “Are you okay with me kissing you?” He asked, “I think it’ll be the nail in the coffin to finish all of this.”
You pulled back a little, your face draining of its color. Did you want to kiss James? Not particularly. Did you really care? It was hard to say. You wanted to be kissing someone else, a certain boy on the couch, but that was out of the question. You and James were just friends, two actors trying to woo the girl he so desperately wanted. It was like acting in a school play. It was just pretend. Harmless, really. James had kissed tons of other girls before you. It was normal for him. 
You always kind of imagined this sort of situation with Remus. It stung a little to know that you would sooner have the chance to kiss James Potter as opposed to your actual crush. 
You peered over your shoulder for a second to see Lily looking absolutely taken with James, and then turned back to the boy in front of you. It was a tough decision, but you ended up nodding your head. “It’s okay. Nothing too dramatic, yeah?”
And with that, your quidditch playing, Lily-obsessed friend kissed you right in the middle of the bustling party. You lips pressed together and you shut your eyes so you didn’t have to look at him. He ran his hand down your cheek and over your jaw for a moment as he leaned in closer, really trying to make it look authentic. 
Thankfully, it was short lived because soon enough, someone else had grabbed your arm firmly and tugged you out of James’ clutches. You turned around to be met with a sweater vest clad boy glaring down at the two of you with an unimaginable amount of frustration in his expression. His entire face from cheeks to the ears was red, and his lips were downturned into a frown. 
“Rem-” you started, but he interrupted you.
“That’s enough,” he muttered, and you could clearly hear the hurt in his voice. James tried to make it better, claiming that it was all for show, that he should calm down a bit, but Remus wasn’t having any of it. “I think your little fake relationship thing has run its course, don’t you think?”
“What’s wrong, Remus?” you questioned, peering up at him with those bright e/c eyes he had come to adore, and had missed over the past few weeks. “James, you stay here. Remus, let’s head to the dorms,” you suggested, motioning with your free hand to the stairwell leading up to the boys’ room. You certainly didn’t want to cause a scene.
James nodded, brows raised when he looked at Remus, a small smirk on his face. You didn’t know what he meant by that expression, but Remus sure did, and he was regretting the day he ever confessed to the boys that he fancied you. He wondered if James had an ulterior motive by fake dating you; if he did it to make Remus jealous, because if that were the case, he most definitely succeeded. 
As you led him to the staircase, you noticed over your shoulder that poor Lily was walking over to James, her head ducked down shyly as she approached. James, as confident as ever, flashed a sparkly white grin and started a conversation as if it were the most easy thing in the world. 
Remus followed you up the stairs and into his room, which was empty considering everyone was downstairs partying the night away. You shut the door behind him, finally letting go of his arm so you could cross yours over your chest. He was tall, and you had to look up to meet his eyes, but he was never intimidating to you. Not even when he was angry like today. He was too gentle to yell at you, much less hurt you in any way. 
“Mind telling me what’s got you so upset?” You tapped your toes on the floor, the soft clicking noise ringing out in the quiet room, music from outside muffled by the heavy door. 
You didn’t notice the water that was beginning to gather in the corners of his eyes.
He thought for a moment, before a whisper fell from his lips, and you almost didn’t catch it. 
“Why did you have to kiss him?” he asked weakly, his voice suddenly a lot softer now that you were alone. A lot sadder, too. “Why did you have to kiss him right there in front of me?” he repeated, squeezing his eyes shut and he pressed the palms of his hands to cover them. He felt heartbroken. Absolutely crushed that you had kissed his best friend, that he had to watch as you did so. It was so casual, like it didn’t even matter to you, but it mattered the world to Remus. 
He felt he might cry. Tears bubbled up in the corners of his eyes and he tried his hardest to keep them from dripping down his cheeks. No matter how hard he tried, he found himself crying anyway. 
You were crestfallen when you noticed the tears running down his cheeks, a gasp coming from your lips. He was crying, and it was because of you. You had done this to him, your best friend, the guy that you supposedly had a crush on for nearly 4 years straight now. You’d never made someone cry; it broke your heart. 
You rushed up to him, bringing your hands up to move his, letting them sink to his sides. Softly, with the pads of your thumbs, you wiped away the salty tears running down his cheeks. He didn’t even shy away from your touch, he just let you wipe them away silently, not daring to look you in the eyes. His eyes were stuck to the ceiling, trying to blink away what he was feeling. You being so nice to him only made things worse. He felt like an ass. You could do whatever you wanted. If you wanted to kiss James, so be it. He had no right to be upset when you weren’t his. 
“Remus, sweetheart, it’s gonna be okay. Just tell me what’s wrong.”
It was silent for a moment as he thought of what he wanted to say, as you stared up into his teary eyes with concern etched across your face. It was getting harder and harder to pretend everyday that he wasn’t bothered by your presence when you weren’t in his arms, when he couldn’t freely touch you and love you, and kiss you silly until you were laughing with glee. It took so much effort to suffocate all those feelings down. He didn’t think he could fuck things up anymore, so he said the only thing he had on his mind. 
“I love you.”
You were at a loss for words. He loved you? You felt your heart beat faster in your chest at his words, and you shook your head, clearly having misheard him. There was no way that Remus Lupin loved you. Not in the way you thought he meant. Surely, he would have said something by now. Surely you would have caught onto what he was feeling this entire time. “What?”
“Don’t make me say it again, Y/N. I’m already pathetic as it is,” he muttered, his eyes now drawn down to the red carpet below their feet. 
“Remus Lupin loves me,” you whispered mostly to yourself, “You love me?”
He chuckled bitterly, “As catastrophic as it is, yes, with all my heart, Y/N. Since the very moment I laid eyes on you.”
“Why didn’t you tell me? I-I would have never kissed James if I knew-”
“Why would I tell you and fuck everything up?”
“Fuck everything up? Remus, I just wasted my first kiss on James Fleamont Potter when I could have been kissing you!”
“What?” Now it was his turn to be confused. He looked up to you finally, his eyes still glassy from crying, lips just agape with surprise. 
You shook your head and laughed. “I’m in love with you! It’s always been you.” Your arms wrapped around his middle, hugging him to your chest and laughing into his sweater. He immediately took notice of your warmth radiating through his clothes, bringing him back to the real world. You loved him. You, the girl of his dreams, were hugging him and confessing your love to him. He wrapped his arms around your shoulders and brought you closer to his body, cradling you like a precious artifact in his possession. He never wanted to let you go again. 
He sighed, resting his chin on the top of your head. “You have no idea how hard it was keeping my cool around you all this time. When I saw you snuggled up to James, I wanted to kill him. He knew better than to make me jealous.”
“James knew how you felt about me?”
“Sirius, James, and Peter all knew.”
“And none of them thought to enlighten me? The betrayal.”
You inhaled the scent of his sweater, chocolate bars and mint coming in like waves. He was everything that you loved in the world all condensed into a single perfect person. He fit in your arms like a puzzle piece.
“Guess you’ve got to break up with James now,” he mumbled into her hair, stroking the back of your head, “Because I’m never letting you go ever again.”
“I think that can be arranged.”
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