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absurdthirst · 1 year

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Cold Nights & Warm Bodies {Frankie Morales x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 15.6k

Warnings: Mentions of divorce, technically infidelity (separated at the time), coercion, unprotected sex, pregnancy, violence, threat of death, child birth, oral sex (female receiving), protected sex

Comments: Freezing and hypothermic, you get to have Frankie the way you've always wanted him on that mountain in the Andes. Only to come home and find that he's ghosted you and gone back to his wife. Not what you want when you are surprised with a positive pregnancy test and it's his.

A/N: Totally self serving and something we wanted. Enjoy or not!

**Follow @absurdthirst-writes for all current posted fics!

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

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Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

She’s getting worse. Frankie sends you a worried look, even as he huffs and puffs, pulling his own heavy pack up the rock face. He swears he can hear your teeth chattering from here and your shaking when you should be warm from the exertion

It’s his fault. At least he feels it’s his fault. You wouldn’t be here if he hadn’t said yes and he said yes because Benny, Will and Tom had said yes. Now you are here and sick and he feels guilty even though he couldn’t have anticipated you getting sick after wading across the river with the mules loaded down with money.

You can’t seem to get warm no matter what you do. You shift closer to the fire, pulling your jacket closer but after falling in the river, you haven’t been able to get warm since getting soaking wet. Your clothes are damp since you walked through the jungle and you are shaking. “Fuck. I - I don’t know - I can’t get warm.”

All of them have their arms crossed, hugging themselves for warmth, the temperatures are falling as they get higher in elevation. “Come here.” Frankie immediately opens his arms for you, inviting you to sit between his legs. “I’ll get you warmed up.” He promises, ignoring the smirk from Benny - who knows full well how much Frankie cares about you.

You don’t deny yourself the opportunity to lean into Frankie’s chest. God knows you’ve had a crush on him for years. His hands rub your arms and you shake against him. “I- fuck - I’m just so cold.” You knew you shouldn’t have come on this trip but you couldn’t let the boys go alone.

“It’s okay.” Frankie leans you forward slightly so he can unzip his jacket, trying to bundle you into it and share his body heat. He curses the fact that he didn’t bring an emergency blanket in his pack. “I’ll warm you up.”

You shift closer, burying your face in his neck. “Fra- Fra - Frankie.” You choke, teeth chattering as you breathe him in, trying to calm yourself down and warm up. “It - I - still so cold.” You force out, certain that you’re gonna die on this mountain.

“I know you are, baby girl.” The endearment slips out easily, his hands rubbing over your body as he tries to warm you up. Tom is already curled up snoring and the others are starting to drift off. Or they pretend to be. Frankie reaches around you and tosses another few bundles of cash on the fire. “When we get back, you can live in a hot tub.” He murmurs in your ear. “How does that sound?”

“So-sounds a-ama-amazing. I ne-need that.” You are in pain from the cold, your body shaking so much you are certain it’s hurting Frankie. You shift, trying to get closer to him and you end up turning around so you can straddle him, burying yourself in his chest after your hands shake while unzipping your jacket. “Fra-Frankie. If I do- if I don’t make it-” You choke, tears stinging your eyes.

Hissing, he pulls you closer, anger flashing in his eyes to cover the bone chilling fear of that thought. “You are going home.” He growls out, shaking his head and opening his shirt so you can press against his skin. “We just need to warm you up, baby. I’ll do whatever you need.”

“I need -” You try to remember your medic training. “I need skin to skin.” You manage to get out the words and you shake as you shrug off your jacket, struggling to remove your shirt.

Frankie is not shy, too many years in the military for that. He nods, pushing you away slightly. “Let me- let me get us elevated.” He mumbles quietly. The bags of cash at his back would make a good surface, better than the rock for his bare ass. He knows you need skin to skin contact. The temperatures are dipping and it’s turning life or death. “I’ll take care of you, baby.” He bites his lip, holding back a comment about no judgment since it’s cold as he turns and starts shuffling bags quietly.

You shake as you watch Frankie strip his clothes off, shrugging his jacket back on but not zipping it up to protect him and you from the wind. Once he’s bare, you are so cold, you can’t even appreciate the body of the man you’ve been in love with for so many years, too focused on trying to survive. Your teeth chatter as he helps you strip off after getting naked himself, your sports bra soon removed after you nod your consent to him. “Pa-pants too.” You plead, needing his help.

Frankie quickly finishes stripping you down and tries not to stare at your body. “Lay down.” He urges quickly, knowing you need to be as warm as possible. “The bags will cushion you and then I’ll sandwich you in.” He promises, grabbing the clothes to layer on top of him for a windbreak on top of the emergency blanket.

You know this is life or death, you are on the brink of no return and you immediately wrap your arms around him as he sandwiches you in. You bury your face in his neck and breathe him in, just cementing this moment to your mind while he tries to warm you up.

This is not how he wanted to finally get you naked and underneath him. He’s always felt something for you, even though he shouldn’t have. His ex used to throw his admission of a thing for you back years ago when he was drunk one night.

Honestly, that might have been the beginning of the end, even though he had never been unfaithful or even had an emotional affair with you. You were just a friend that he had crushed on and she had beat him to death with that fact. He tucks you closer and presses close, trying to ignore the softness of your skin while he warms you up. You are cold and ill, this isn’t for pleasure. It’s hard to remember when your curls are pressing against his soft cock.

You caress his back, sighing in relief when the pain seems to subside for a moment. “Thank you, my love.” You murmur, not even thinking twice about calling him that when it’s life or death. “I- it’s better. It’s better.” You sigh, wrapping your legs around him.

He tries not to preen at the words you use, knowing that you are grateful for his help. “I’ve got you.” He promises, keeping his hands moving over your skin and helping create as much friction as he possibly can. He wants you to be warm, needs you to be warm. He doesn’t want to carry you off this damn mountain and he’ll be damned if he buries you here.

“Fuck Frankie.” Your body shakes again, teeth chattering. “I’m - I am in - I am still cold. So cold.” You choke, breathing Frankie in just in case this is your last night. You know you should be worried if you aren’t in pain, the lack of pain is a bad thing, and the pain seems to have returned. “Fuck. Fra-Frankie. Please.” You beg, pressing yourself against him even more.

“What do you need?” Frankie hates the plantitive begging in your voice, hates that he cannot whisk you away to a hot bath and a warm bed. His hands rub faster and he starts to rock his body against yours. His body feels the stimulation, heat pooling in his groin and making his cock start to harden. He would apologize but he’s too busy trying to warm you up. “Tell me baby.”

You swallow harshly, throat dry and teeth still chattering but you know what you need, what will help you overcome this frost chilling your bones. “I ne-need you to- to fu- fuck me.” You tell him, pulling back to look into his eyes as the fire burns deep within his pupils. You cup his cheeks, “please.”

It’s on the tip of his tongue to say no. To deny you because this is not the way that he wanted to touch you, but your teeth chatter together and your lips tremble with the cold. Frnakie can’t deny you anything, least of all his own body if it will help you. “Whatever you need.” He promises, wishing that he had a bed that was softer than bags of money out on the top of a mountain surrounded by the rest of the team to fuck you in. “I’m going to warm you up baby.” He coos, leaning in and licking his lips before he presses his to yours softly.

You sigh when his hot mouth engulfs yours. It’s not ideal, having the man you love fuck you on a mountain while you’re on the brink of frostbite but it’s Frankie and your heart is pounding in your chest. “Frankie.” You whimper against his lips, body already reacting to his touch and you caress his back. You kiss his chin, “more. Need more.”

This time his hands can roam more freely. Steadily touching and caressing, squeezing and molding how he has always imagined while he kisses you. Moving down to your neck and kissing along your throat while he rocks his now half hard cock against you.

You tilt your head back, the bags of money are hard under you but you don’t complain, knowing you need him to warm you up and right now, you need him inside of you. You feel his hard cock pressing against your thigh and you whimper, “oh fuck Frank. Please.” You beg, pressing your lips to his, the chill somewhat receding.

He groans, cock twitching and throbbing against your thigh. He reaches up and squeezes your breast and he kisses along your chest and ducks down to capture a nipple in his hot mouth.

You gasp, body now feeling the warmth emitting from Frankie. Your nails bite into his back and you arch yours towards him. “Oh fuck.” You cry softly, not wanting to wake the others up. “S-so good.”

He hums against your breast, wishing that the two of you hadn’t been trekking through the jungle for the last three days, he would go down on you, making you cum, but instead he grinds his cock up against your clit.

“Oh God. Fra-Frankie. Please. Fuck me. Need you- need you inside of me.” You plead, clinging to him, and you roll your hips, trying to notch him at your entrance. You crave the heat, needing him to warm you completely.

“Fuck.” He pops off of your nipple quietly and shuffles his hips forward so he can get into position. He shudders slightly, nothing to do with the cold as he finds your center hot and slick. He presses in and kisses you while he slowly starts to break you open.

Your mouth falls open against his and he takes the chance to slide his tongue into your mouth. Your moan is muffled by his lips and your nails bite into his back, ankles crossed as he sinks deeper inside of you. The warmth seems to envelop your entire body and you feel like you aren’t shaking like before. “Fuck Frank. Yes. Feel- feel so good.” You pant against his lips.

Frankie’s eyes flutter closed and he groans into your mouth quietly. The boys are still asleep and he doesn’t want to share this moment with you. “So good.” He agrees quietly. “Now let me warm you up baby.”

You nod, feeling so much better, and you know he has saved your life. You are still shivering but not rattling like you were before. He rocks his hips, slow and measured as he pushes into you, making you whimper his name, kissing along his jaw and this feels like more than just fucking. Your heart is pounding and you caress his back.

Your hands are warmer, your toes curling around his calves and he groans as he continues to rock into you. Searing hot on the inside and so much tighter than he ever even imagined when he was fucking his fist. Frankie turns his head and kisses your lips. “So good. God, you feel so good.”

You tangle your fingers in his hair, tugging him impossibly closer and you rock your hips up to meet his. “You’ve saved me Frankie. I could’ve - it could’ve - fuck - I wouldn’t have made it off of this mountain.” You choke, tears in your eyes as he continues to rock into you.

“Shhhhhshhhh.” Frankie doesn’t want to hear you talk like that and he doesn’t want to think about it. “Never let that happen.” He promises. “You are going home baby. I’m - I’m gonna make sure it happens.”

“Frankie. We could die. We shouldn’t have come here. We - I could lose you.” You swallow harshly, kissing his jaw as you breathe him in. “I don’t want to lose you. I can’t.” You are emotional, unable to process the last few days.

Frankie hisses, rocking into you harder. There is a zipper that is digging into his knee and his fucking back is aching, but he keeps moving. Building the heat up between you and trying to soothe the fear and shock of the mission going terribly wrong the only way he can right now. Making you focus on his body, your body. “Feel that?” He grunts, giving a particularly rough thrust. “You’re here. You’re alive.”

Your mouth parts, your eyes focusing on his face, features highlighted by the flames of the fire. You whimper, feeling your entire body light on fire like the flames, warmed from the inside. “Fuck.” You pant, back arching to get even closer to him as he expertly grinds into you. “We are alive.” You pant while his cock hits just right and you bury your face in his neck to silence your moans as your orgasm approaches.

He feels you fluttering around him, making him growl in pride. Loving how he is going to make you cum, give you the heat and orgasm that you need. His cock continues to drill into you, almost frantically now. He had been imagining you around him and it’s everything he’s ever wanted. Making him groan and wrapping his arms around you to desperately pound into you without waking everyone up.

You bite down on his shoulder to smother your cry of his name while you clamp down on his cock. Soaking him with your cum as your body burns, every nerve ending on fire as warmth is restored to you. It’s relief and bliss and everything you needed after the stress of this mission. “Oh fuck.” You pant against his neck, kissing the skin you just bit into.

Frankie stills inside you, not ready to cum quite yet. This might be the only time he gets to ever touch you and he wants it to last. The heat built up between you is starting to thaw your chilled body and he wants you to be even warmer. “That’s it, baby.” He moans quietly, feeling your walls clench around him while you tremble from pleasure and not the cold. “That’s it. Cum for me.”

You are still riding your previous orgasm but the way his voice washes over you had you on the edge. “Move. Please. I need - I need you to move for me baby.” You beg breathlessly, needing him to fuck you, desperation crawling inside of you to feel that same pleasure again.

Nothing fucking matters right now. Not the cold, not the fucking piles of money, not the entire goddamn mission going up in smoke. All that matters is the way that your body arches up and your legs tighten around him under the layers of clothes he has piled up on your bodies. “Greedy.” He chuckles quietly, happy that you are responding to him, that you are starting to move. No longer lethargic and frantic for warmth.

You whine, surging up to press your lips to his and your hands caress his back, shifting the clothes on top but not removing them. You whimper when he starts to move, his hips pressing against the back of your thighs as he pushes deep. Your heart is pounding and the fact that the man you’ve been in love with for God knows how long is currently inside of you has you about to explode. It’s everything you wanted and nothing you expected.

Frankie is rougher this time, his thrusts harder and deeper while he ignores the discomfort from the position and everything else. Turning and kissing along your neck while he growls every time his cock pushes deep and seems to be squeezed like a vice by the velvet heat of your cunt.

“Frankie. Oh Frankie.” You rasp, throat dry and sore but you focus on him, on how he feels. It’s more than you ever imagined. “Fuck baby. You- you’ve saved me. I- I - lo - I can’t - oh God.” You wanted to confess you love him but it dies on your lips when your pleasure crests and you cum again, squeezing his cock.

This time when you cum, he doesn’t stop, he can’t stop. His teeth nip your skin and he growls at the way you’re soaking him in your pleasure, knowing that this is always what he has wanted. “Fuck.” He grunts, pushing hard and deep before he is painting your walls with hot ropes of his cum.

Your eyes close when you feel Frankie cum, loving how it feels and you force your eyes open to watch him, enjoying the sight of his slack jaw and shiny lips. Your hands cling to him, pulling him down on top of you, desperate to get even closer as his cock twitches inside of you. “Francisco.” You coo, touching him everywhere, committing this moment to memory.

Blissed out, he’s biting his lip to keep from confessing to you how he feels. You are going through it and high stress situations are not the place for declarations of love, especially when he’s technically not divorced yet. Instead of saying anything out loud, he crushes his lips to yours.

You moan into his mouth, desperate to tell him how you feel but he’s still married, albeit separated but it’s wrong. This was wrong. You can feel the guilt seeping in and you lean back, relieved that the pain of the ice cold has vanished. “Thank you.” You murmur against his mouth, relaxing on the rock hard bags of money.

Frankie smiles down at you, pulling out of you gently and shifting slightly. Still keeping the majority of your body covered with his own. “I’d do anything for you.” He reminds you softly. Reaching up and caressing your cheek. “Are you warm now?”

“Yes. I feel - finally feel my toes again. Frankie…I could’ve - you saved me. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to repay you for that.” You confess, biting your lip as you look at him. You don’t know what tomorrow brings or if you will even survive this encounter, but you know that you love the man above you. The man who just saved your life.

He gives you a grin, flushing slightly although you can’t tell that in the darkness. “Because it was such a chore to warm you up.” He jokes, leaning in and kissing you again. It might be uncalled for, but he can’t help it right now. “You should put on your panties, at least.” He murmurs, suddenly jealous of letting the others see you. He wants to keep this memory for himself.

You nod, knowing you should try and keep his cum inside of you in case it drips onto the bags of money or your clothes. “Would you mind-?” You ask and he nods, “of course. Let me-” He manages to awkwardly shuffle, reaching for your panties and dragging them up your legs before he does the same with his boxers. You sigh in relief, suddenly exhausted, and you close your eyes, “get some sleep baby. It’s gonna be a long day tomorrow.”

Wrapping his arms around you to keep you warm, he listens as your breathing starts to soften and mellow out. Holding you close when he feels your body relax as you fall asleep. “Tell her how you feel, man.” His eyes open when he hears Benny whisper from off to his left.

“I- I will.” Frankie promises. “Eventually.”

Benny scoffs quietly and there is silence for a moment. “Don’t wait too long. We never know when we are going to bite the bullet.”

****

When you look back at the beach, you feel relief. You made it but at what cost? Tom is dead. Everyone else is battered up and the money is nearly gone. It’s cost you way too much and you know it’s going to affect you all for a long time to come. “We made it.” You choke, thankful you’ve survived after nearly freezing to death and being shot at.

Frankie slaps Will on the shoulder and looks over at you. You are soaking wet again but this time you should be able to dry off properly on the boat. “We made it.” He pants, feeling relieved that it was not you that they were carrying in that body bag. He had pinned you down with his own body when the shots had started ringing out, scared that someone may hit you. Feeling guilty for not covering Tom better and he swallows. “Let’s go home.”

****

You stare at the test, sitting on your toilet after being home from South America for 12 weeks. You had figured your first missed period was from the stress of the mission. When you missed your second period, you put it down to being sick with what you thought was the flu, and when you miss the third one, you freak out. You haven’t really spoken to Frankie since you had gotten back, reeling from the mission and the loss of Tom and the money. You know that night on the mountain was a fluke, just a way to save your life, and you hadn’t thought about the consequences. You didn’t take your birth control on the trip, figuring you wouldn’t need it and now, you’re facing the consequences of it. You’re pregnant.

“Shit.” You rub your cheek, staring at the test, one of four that you took to be certain and they are all positive. And the baby is definitely Frankie’s. You swallow, tears stinging your eyes and you don’t know how to tell Frankie, you haven’t even seen him since you got home. You know you have to tell him, you want to talk to him. You have no idea what you are gonna do. You swallow harshly, wiping your eyes and prepare yourself to go over to Frankie’s house.

“What the fuck do you mean you’re going back to her?” Benny glares at Frankie’s back, he can feel the frustration and anger digging into his back.

Sighing, he doesn’t stop packing up his stuff, shoving clothes into the bag so he can get out of the crappy apartment he had rented when he moved out of the house he had bought with Teresa. “She said she will go for full custody.” Frankie huffs, still irritated about that. “With the drug test and the suspension, I’ll lose my baby girl and I can’t do that.”

You exhale shakily as you make your way to Frankie's apartment, knocking on the door, and you prepare yourself to tell Frankie about the baby. When Teresa answers the door, you are shocked. Little Allie on her hip and you are reminded once again of Frankie having his own family. You frown, wondering why Teresa is here, she had kicked him out. "Oh, uh, hi. Is, um, is Frankie here?" You choke, wondering what is going on.

Teresa narrows her eyes, not particularly happy about seeing you here. “He’s packing his things.” She motions towards the back with a small, triumphant grin on her face. “Daddy’s coming home, isn’t he, baby girl?” She coos at her daughter and then gives you a smug look. “You can go talk to him if you want, Benny’s helping him.”

You already know, you don’t need to talk to him to find out what’s happening. He’s getting back with Teresa. His daughter and his family. He doesn’t want you like you thought he did that night and you are going to have to accept that. You want the baby but you won’t disrupt Frankie’s family. It’s not fair. You will stay away. “No, um, it’s okay. I just - I’ll see him around.” You tell Teresa who snorts and shakes her head, a smile still on her face.

“Oh no you won’t. I know how you feel about him. It’s obvious. Those silly heart eyes when you look at my husband. He chose me. He has a child with me. He doesn’t want you. He pities you because you are like a little sister to him. Do yourself a favor and get over him. You need to get your own life. Stop mooning over my husband. He doesn’t want you. He doesn’t love you.” She chuckles at her daughter who coos and snuggles into her mother. “Do not speak to Frankie again. If you do, I won’t let him see his daughter. I have enough evidence. The coke. The abandoning us to go do who the fuck knows what in South America. One word from you and Frankie loses Allie. You don’t want to do that, do you?” She asks, tilting her head.

Your eyes water at her cruel words, knowing that Frankie adores his daughter and you know he would be destroyed if he couldn’t see her. You can’t be responsible for that. “I understand. I wish you all the best, Teresa.” You step away, making your way back to your car and when you’re inside, you break down, sobbing as you mourn the loss of your best friend and the father of your child.

“What about South America?” Benny hisses, trying to make Frankie see reason. He shakes his head in frustration, not just because he is friends with you, but because Frankie wasn’t happy with Teresa. “You had that moment.”

Frankie hisses, closing his eyes as he remembers that night, getting to touch you. “I saved her from hypothermia.” He reminds Benny. “It’s not like she’s been eager to talk to me.” It’s true he’s been avoiding you, unsure of what to say and dealing with Teresa’s unreasonable demands had taken up every waking second while he tries to figure out some way to make this all go away. “This is for the best.” His words sound hollow, because they are. He’s going back to his ex so he doesn’t lose his daughter. You will understand when he finally gets around to talking to you.

****

It’s been a few months, you’re five months along and you are showing. You haven’t spoken to Frankie since you got back from South America. You don’t want him to lose Allie and you know he would’ve talked to you if he wanted to. It’s just you and your baby. It’s a boy, you found out, so you are decorating the nursery. The Miller brothers have been out of state visiting their mom and Santi was in Australia so you’re all alone during this time.

“Where are you going?” Teresa huffs, throwing him an annoyed look and he swears that he should have never come back to this house.

“I’m going to go out,” he hisses, frustrated that she seems to think that every fucking second of his life needs to be accounted for.

“But-“

“I’m going for a fucking drive! I’m not going to fucking do anything!” He snaps, grabbing his keys off the counter and yanking the door open. Since coming home, he’s been isolated more than ever and he feels like he’s going to explode. He needs to talk to someone and since Benny and Will are gone, Frankie decides to head over to your place.

You hum along to the song, painting the small section of the nursery the beautiful baby blue you had selected. The Beatles song makes you smile, “what do you think about Paul?” You ask the bump, still deciding on a name. There’s no kick. “Maybe not. What about Lennon? George? Ringo?” You test out and the baby kicks. “Okay. None of those.” You chuckle. When you hear the doorbell ring, you frown and set the roller down, reaching to turn the music down, and you make your way to the front door. When you open it, you’re shocked. “Frankie.” You choke, you haven’t seen him for months.

“Holy shit.” Frankie staggers back from your doorway, his reluctantly bashful expression changing to one of complete shock. “You’re pregnant.” It’s not a question, you are and he’s not a stupid man, the odds of this baby being his are pretty fucking good. “Jesus.”

You are suddenly pissed, knowing he hasn’t even tried to reach out to you for months because of Teresa. He didn’t fight for your friendship at all. “Yes. I’m pregnant. What are you doing here, Frankie? Shouldn’t you be with your wife?”

He winces at your bitterness and he knows he deserves it. “She threatened to take Allie from me.” Frankie explains, hoping you will understand. “Claimed her lawyer would terminate my parental rights.” He feels horrible, knowing now that she had just wanted to hurt him more, to punish him for his faults. He had made the wrong decision, but he couldn’t do anything but go forward. “I meant to call.” He promises, remembering that you didn’t call him either. “But I didn’t hear from you.”

“Your wife told me not to. Told me she would take your daughter away from you so I stayed away. Besides, I’ve had other priorities.” Your hand lowers to your bump, protective of your son. “I’m sorry Frankie but you made your choice. You didn’t fight. You didn’t want to fight.”

“I didn’t have a fucking choice.” Frankie lifts his hat and shoves his hand through his hair in frustration. Ready to break down and fucking cry. He had wanted to see about repairing his relationship with you, hoping that he could make things right, but apparently he had fucked up even more than he could have ever known. He takes a deep breath, looking around bitterly and then back at you. “Is it mine?” He asks softly, needing to know that much at least.

You want to cry, tears stinging in your eyes, but you stay strong. “Do you even have to ask?” You choke, feeling offended that he’d ask you that when he knows what happened on that mountain…while he was still fucking married.

“No.” He admits, his stomach twisting and he reaches out to brush your tears away. You flinch back and it’s like you slap him. Frankie freezes and he drops his hand from where it’s suspended in mid air. “I- fuck, I didn’t know.” He closes his eyes and his own tears gather, smashing his palms into his eyes and rubbing them. “Fuck!” He hisses, realizing that he is losing everything. Teresa will take Allie and he will never see his little girl again and you hate him so he will never know this baby either. “Fuck. I’m sorry.” He chokes out, feeling nearly overwhelmed and quite frankly wishing he had taken his portion of the money.

You watch him and wipe your own tears away, knowing that this is Teresa’s fault. She was the one who forced him to stay. You need to talk to him about what happens next. “Why don’t you come inside?” You suggest, opening the door wider to put your bump fully on display, paint splattered on your clothes but you don’t care. “Sorry about the paint.” You tell Frankie as he follows you inside, closing the door behind him.

“Blue?” He chokes, noticing the color on your shirt. “It’s a boy?” He asks and you turn to face him once you’re in the living room.

“It’s a boy.” You confirm, rubbing your bump again.

“Shit.” Frankie closes his eyes, trying not to cry again. “I- she talked to you?” He asks. “When?” He needs to know when she had warned you away from him.

“A couple of months ago. You were moving out of your apartment.” Frankie sighs, remembering that he had heard a knock, but Teresa had claimed it was a neighbor.

“Were you coming to tell me you are pregnant?” When you nod, he stumbles over to your sofa and sits down, his head in his hands. “When we- when we got back from South America, she gave me an ultimatum.” He chokes out. “Come back to her or lose Allie forever.” He shakes his head. “I should have called her bluff.”

You shake your head, sitting down beside him. You reach for his hands and your heart aches. This situation seems impossible. “You can’t lose Allie. She can’t - she can’t do that. You’re her father.” You shake your head and Frankie groans, “she has the suspension and my drug use over me.”

You squeeze his hands, “the Frankie I know wouldn’t just give up so easily. Look, I’m mad at you because - because you just abandoned me, especially after - after that night - and I - I wanted to tell you but she threatened me and I couldn’t let you lose your daughter. Frankie, no matter what happens, as mad as I am now, I would never stop you from seeing your son. You will be the father on the birth certificate, but I can’t let my boy be around Teresa. You do what you want to do but I need to put our son first.”

He shakes his head and weaves his fingers with yours. “I’m going to ask her for a divorce.” Frankie tells you, more certain than ever of what he needs to do. “I want to help support you and our son. And she would never allow that. She-“ he shakes his head. “Her wanting me back was purely to punish me. I - I will fight her for Allie.”

You frown, knowing that you can’t ask him to leave his wife. “Frankie. I don’t - you don’t have to do that if you want to stay with Teresa, if you still love her, you don’t have to leave her for me under some - some obligation. I’m not telling you to do that. You don’t have to. If you want to stay and be with Allie.” You know he wants to be a good father, especially since Teresa struggles, and you can’t deny him that. He saved your life and got you pregnant, you weren’t together or under some obligation.

“I don’t want to stay with her.” He admits quietly, looking down at your joined hands. “I shouldn’t have- I was fucked up after - after what happened in South America and I couldn’t handle the threats of losing my daughter.” He sighs and squeezes your hands. “But I would never forgive myself if I didn’t see my son. And she would never let that happen. She hates you- because of me.”

You stare at him, “why - why does she hate me? Frankie. I haven’t - I haven’t - there’s nothing I could’ve done to make her hate me. I haven’t been rude to her. I even bought you that stupid plate set on your registry. I didn’t even want to go to that fucking wedding.” You shift, letting go of his hands.

Frankie sighs and bites his lip, feeling foolish for being nervous about telling you how he feels. You’re pregnant with his son so it’s not like you don’t know that he’s physically attracted to you. “B-because I got drunk about four or five years ago and admitted that I had always been attracted to you. That I would have asked you out if we- if things had aligned.” You had been dating someone and then he had met Teresa, so the timing had never been in your favor. “She took it personally.”

You don’t hear him tell you that he loves you and that breaks your heart. You lost the chance to become something when he chose to stay with Teresa and now, you are discovering that things could’ve been different. “You - you wouldn’t have Allie if things were different so - so it is what it is now. Frankie, you have Allie and you’re married. Even if you loved me the same way I love you, we can’t do anything about it. All we can do now is make sure that our son has two parents who love him. We do what is best for him.”

The fact that you love him makes his heart soar and break all at the same time. “I do love him.” Frankie can already promise you that. “Just as much as I love his mother.” He stands and wipes his hands on his jeans. “I’m going to- I almost told you how I felt on that mountain and I stopped myself.” He admits. “Wanted to be single when I did. But it’s not like things aren’t different.” He shakes his head. “I’m going to go home and tell her. I need a divorce and if I stayed with her, she wouldn’t want me to me see you or our son and that’s not an option.” He drops down to his knees in front of you again. “I’m not- I’m so sorry I didn’t- I fucked up but I’m not making that mistake again.”

You frown, unable to stop yourself from reaching out to run your fingers through his hair. “Don’t do anything you’ll regret. You need to be smart. Don’t think about being with me. Or - or us living together until you figure out what to do. I can’t - I can’t take it, Frank. If you promise me the world and then rip it away, I couldn’t handle that. I love you. God, I’ve wanted to tell you that for so long. I love you.” You sigh, lifting his head to press your lips against his forehead. His head tilts, eyes on your lips as he moves closer but you turn your head so his lips press against your cheek. “We can’t. I can’t. Not until - not until it’s official. I can’t make that mistake again.” You whisper, heart aching for the man you love.

He understands, he really does. Swallowing, he pulls away from you and leans down to kiss your stomach. “Hey bud, I’m your daddy.” He whispers softly. “You be good for your momma, until I can come and take care of both of you, okay?”

Tears sting in your eyes and you clear your throat. “You better get back.” You tell him, “Teresa will be waiting for you.” You tell him, shifting to stand up and you keep your hand on your bump. Frankie shifts to stand too, his entire body slumped. You aren’t sure if he will ever follow through with leaving Teresa but you know he deserves a chance. You won’t be the other woman though. Not again. “I’ll see you soon, Frankie.” You say when you stand in the hallway.

“I’m sorry baby.” Frankie murmurs softly, unable to stop himself from using the same term of endearment he had used that night. “I promise I’m going to fix this.” He doesn’t want to leave but he knows he needs to, shuffling towards the door with you behind him.

You watch him go, heart heavy but you know this is the right thing to do. You have to put your son as your priority.

****

“Maybe a little to the left.” You shuffle back towards the door, looking at the picture Frankie is trying to hang on the wall for you. The nursery is nearly finished and Frankie has come over to help since the night of his reappearance in your life.

“Here?” Frankie twists his head to look at you for approval and when you nod he marks the wall. He’s enjoyed coming and helping you, not feeling the slightest bit guilty for lying to Teresa. “I met with my attorney yesterday.” He tells you, wanting to keep you informed, to prove that he’s serious. “She seems to think that because I have proof that she coerced me into staying that the judge will not be happy with her.”

You caress your bump as you watch him work to put the picture up. “That’s good news. I’m glad. Hopefully that will work in your favor for custody. How’s Allie?” You ask, biting your lip as you watch his shoulders shift under his t-shirt. You’ve thought of him when you touch yourself at night, your need for him growing stronger each day but you resist, wanting to do this the right way. You’ve become the best of friends again, watching movies when he can escape from Teresa.

“Growing like a weed.” Frankie boasts proudly. He loves his daughter more than anything, it’s why he’s in this situation but he doesn’t blame her. “She is crawling in the bed with me at night.” He frowns slightly. “Having accidents and doesn’t want Teresa to know.” He and Teresa have been sleeping apart since he moved back in months ago and he’s resisted any overtures for more.

You sigh, feeling sorry for the toddler. “Oh God. Why- what do you think is causing them? I thought she was doing so well with her potty training. Is, uh, does Teresa yell at her when she has accidents?” You know she doesn’t have much patience with her daughter.

“I think so.” Frankie admits, shaking his head. “I’ve set up a nanny cam in the house, so I can see what she’s doing.” He hates the sneaking around, but he doesn’t trust Teresa and he needs to make sure his little girl is as safe as she can be. “I think it might just be a phase, you know, I apparently slid back in my potty training too.”

You frown, “I know I’m not the be all and end all of knowledge but…maybe it’s anxiety? Allie has to be around a lot of tension between you and Teresa. You’ve been disappearing from the house more and more to come and see me. She has to be suspicious. It’s been three months since you’ve been sneaking out.”

“It could be.” Frankie’s shoulders slump slightly. He hates putting his daughter through any kind of distress. “I can’t wait for this to be over. Although I’m going to miss having her every night.” He’s decided that he’s going to move in with Will and Benny once he gives Teresa the paperwork. That way she cannot accuse you of anything more than she will try to. The lawyer already knows the date of conception for your son and that they were separated at that time. It doesn’t look good, but the papers protect him from an adultery accusation.

You nod, walking over to him after he puts up the picture. You rest your head on his shoulder, looking at the picture. “I know you’ll miss her but hopefully it won’t be for long. You’ll have her back soon enough.” You rub his back, knowing this is difficult for him. “I can’t wait to get to know her better. Teresa hasn’t exactly let me get to know her.” You sigh before you gasp. “God, our boy is kicking.” You reach for his hand and bring it to your belly.

“Oh my god.” Frankie smiles as he feels his son push up against his hand. “Fuck, he’s so strong.” He looks at you in complete adoration. “I love you.” He murmurs softly. “I know that you think that I say that because of the baby, but I do. I love you so much and I hate being away from you and our little man.”

You wish things were different but they aren’t, not yet anyway and you swore you wouldn’t do anything without Frankie being single. “I love you too.” You look back at him, knowing you can’t do anything to show him that love. “You have to look after Allie. Me and our boy are fine. We will be okay. Allie needs her daddy.” You kiss his cheek, the closest you’ve allowed yourself to get. “Now, you gotta get home. It’s been a couple of hours and the nursery is done. I just gotta put some onesies and diapers away that I got from Target.”

Frankie sighs softly and nods. “Okay baby. I’ll go, but I will be thinking about you.” He promises, reaching out and rubbing your stomach again. “I have another meeting with the lawyer tomorrow to pick up the papers.”

You offer him a smile despite your sadness that he’s leaving, but still, he has to go. “Thank you for helping me-”

He shakes his head and cuts you off, “don’t. I’m not helping. I'm here putting our son’s nursery together.”

You reach for his hand, “go. I’ll see you soon.” You squeeze his hand and walk towards the front door. “Go. I’ll be fine, Frank. Allie needs you.”

“Yes ma’am.” He offers you a small smile, and opens the door. He wants this done by the time you are ready to have the baby and the lawyer assured him that with the evidence, Teresa wouldn’t be contesting and they could fast track the divorce. “I’ll swing by on my way to Teresa’s tomorrow.” He promises, turning around and giving you a small wink. “Get some rest.”

You watch him go, caressing your bump and you sigh, wishing he could stay but knowing why he can’t. When you close the door, you look down at the bump, “daddy is gonna be home soon.” You tell your son but truly, you tell yourself in hopes of it coming true.

****

Another two weeks go by and your due date is coming fast. You worry that Frankie isn’t going to be able to be here once you’ve had the baby. He hasn’t told her about the divorce yet and you are worried, part of you wondering if he will ever actually leave her. Maybe it’s anxiety from the baby coming soon.

You are finishing up a few things, laundry and organizing the nursery when the doorbell rings. You think it’s a delivery and grunt as you practically waddle towards the door. When you open it, your eyes widen. “Oh, uh, Teresa.” You greet her, trying to close the door to hide your bump but it’s useless.

Her eyes widen and narrow in fury, pushing back against the door. “So this is why Frankie’s been coming over here?” She fumes. “You went and got yourself knocked up.” She’s been suspicious about Frankie’s disappearances lately and put a tracker on his truck. Of course it would lead to your house. “You fucking home wrecker!”

You shake your head, “no. No. I didn’t - it was once. When we were in South America and I was going to freeze to death and he saved me.” You tell her and she shakes her head.

“With his dick?” She shrieks and you place your hand over your bump.

“No. No. I- it was one time and Frankie - he’s your husband but you were separated at the time.”

“I knew it!” The door slams shut behind her, trapping you in the house with Frankie’s furious wife. “You are trying to take him from me. Make him leave me. He’s not going anywhere.” She doesn’t love Frankie - hasn’t for a long time, but she has put up with him and he allows her to do what she wants and she’s not giving that up. She picks up a box that you have on your entryway table and heaves it at you. “You aren’t taking my life!”

You manage to avoid the box, just barely, and it falls to the floor with a bang. “Teresa. Please. I promise - I won’t take your life. I just want - I just want to have my baby. Frankie has been - been helping me with the nursery. That’s all.” You promise, not telling her about the nights he had gotten you what you were craving for dinner. “Teresa!” You cry when she throws a picture at you, the metal of the frame hitting your arm.

“You aren’t taking my husband!” Teresa screams, moving closer to you.

“You don’t even love him!” You shout back.

“And you do?” She scoffs, stepping closer once more.

“Yes. I’ve loved him since I met him. I just - I went to your wedding. I supported you. It’s not my fault your marriage failed…it’s yours.”

Teresa screams, sounding like a battle cry as she launches herself at you. “You ruined everything! You were always there! It’s your fault!” Her fists swing, one punch catching you in the shoulder as she attacks you. Grabbing your shirt and trying to swing you around. “I’m going to fucking kill you! You and that bastard!” Her eyes are wide, manic and she continues to scream incoherently between swings at your head, your belly - determined to get rid of you and that baby.

You try to protect the baby, curling yourself into a ball and you cry in pain as Teresa continues to hit you, pulling on your hair and slamming your head into the tile floor. You’re certain she’s gonna kill you and if you weren’t pregnant, you’d fight back tooth and nail but you can’t risk the baby. “Stop. Please. Please. Just - not my baby.” You sob, the pain of her fists not even close to matching the pain of knowing your son could die before he’s even born.

Frankie sees Teresa’s car in front of your place, his concerned frown turning into panic when he hears screaming and dull thuds. His heart skips a beat and he is immediately sprinting towards the door after throwing himself out of his truck. “What the fuck?” Through the unlocked door easily, his eyes widen when he sees Teresa on top of you, a box raised up over your head like she’s about to cave your skull in. “What are you doing?” He bellows racing for her to drag her off of you.

“I’m going to fucking kill her!” Teresa screams, “she’s ruined everything. You can’t leave me for her. Fucking whore. Getting knocked up. I’m going to fucking kill her and that bastard inside of her!” Teresa yells, lunging for you again and you whimper, pain making your entire body seize up until you feel it. The blood between your legs.

“No! No! No!” You sob, reaching down and finding your fingers coated with blood.

He has never hit Teresa, never once in all the fights, all the times that she has hit him has he ever swung back at her. Right now, he’s not careful as he grabs her and slams her down on the ground, twisting her arms back behind her until she is screaming in pain. The urge to twist them out of socket is nearly overwhelming but your cry brings him back from that place. He looks over and is horrified by the blood on your hand. “Shit!” He hisses, adjusting his hold on her despite her kicking and flailing to grab his phone out of his pocket. “It’s okay baby, I- I’m going to call 9-1-1.” He promises, dialing quickly and shoving the phone under his chin while he wrestles with his still screaming wife and looks around for something to tie her up with. He's terrified Teresa hurt the baby, hurt you, but he can't show that right now. He needs to be strong and level headed. He can't help you if he's panicking.

You barely hear Frankie call 911, the pain in your stomach now making you cry out, and you sob, terrified that you are losing your baby. “Fr-Frankie. Please. I can’t - oh God.” You choke, “please! Help!” You beg, knowing he’s dealing with Teresa but you are terrified.

“Ambulance is on the way, baby. Just - just stay there.” Frankie orders and Teresa continues to struggle.

“Hopefully the little bastard is dead. Allie shouldn’t have to share her daddy. I shouldn’t have to share my husband!” Teresa shouts, trying to get out of Frankie’s grip again as the urge to finish the job overwhelms her.

“Shut up!” It’s extremely satisfying to pick Teresa’s upper body up slightly and slam her back to the floor, knocking the breath out of her. Giving him a moment of silence and her body lax as she tries to shake off the blow. “Breathe baby.” He urges you, not wanting you to have a panic attack. “Can you- toss me that lamp.” He orders, nodding to the light that is sitting just a few feet away from you on the side table. “I’ll use the cord to tie her up.” He wants to have you focus for a second, to think about something else as you follow orders. “Come on baby, I know you can. You are so brave.”

You sob, nodding as you shift. When you stand, the pain makes you cry out but you push through, grabbing the lamp and managing to pull the cord out. You use all of your strength to toss it over to Frankie before you collapse, falling to the floor. Teresa laughs manically, struggling as Frankie tries to tie her, his concern for you mounting by the second. “She’s gonna die, you know? Her and that baby and then you’ll have no choice but to stay with me.”

“She dies and I’ll fucking kill you.” Frankie hisses, leaning down to rasp the words in his wife’s ear. “I’m not staying with you. I should have never come back.” He wraps the cords tight, bruising and probably cutting off circulation but he doesn’t give a shit. Leaving her on her belly as he scrambles over to you and pulls you into his arms. “Stay with me baby.” He tries to think about his medical training from the Army, but it is woefully inadequate for emergencies with a baby. “We need to - I need to get your pants off of you.” He kisses your forehead and prays that the police and ambulance get here soon. “Okay?”

You sob, pain wracking your body, and you are terrified. “O-okay.” You choke out and Frankie grabs the army knife he keeps in his pocket, cutting your leggings off of you so he doesn’t have to move you. You cry when you look down and see the blood. “I’m so- so sorry. Fr-Frankie. I -our son.” You wail, certain that you’ve lost him. That’s the moment the ambulance arrives, police immediately storming in after.

Frankie has to let go of you, the EMTs rushing over and taking charge of the situation as they start asking you questions. The police start to demand to know what is going on and Teresa starts screaming again, claiming that Frankie beat her. “She attacked my - girlfriend.. She’s- she’s pregnant with my child. I came in right when she was trying to kill her and the baby.” Frankie tells them.

The EMT’s check you over and you keep telling them you are pregnant. Asking if the baby is okay, and they just tell you they are taking you to hospital which makes you sob. Surely they could deliver the baby here. He needs to be out of you. Now. “Who is this woman to you, sir?” The police officer asks.

“She’s my wife. We - I am divorcing her. She found out about the - my girlfriend - and attempted to kill her and the baby.”

He knows how it looks, but he doesn’t care. Not right now. “I need to go with her.” Frankie rambles, watching as the EMTs transfer you the gurney to carry you out to the ambulance. “I-”

“We will get to that.” The police officer promises. “So she came over and attacked her?”

Frankie nods, “I was coming to check on her. I just- I left my lawyer, picking up my divorce papers to serve her and I heard screaming and when I came in she had my pregnant girlfriend on the floor, about to slam a box down on her head.”

The police officer frowns, looking down at Teresa. “Is this true?”

Teresa shakes her head. “No! No. She - she tried to kill me. She wanted to take my husband away from me. She seduced him, got pregnant on purpose. She wanted my husband. I couldn’t let her - I confronted her and she tried to kill me.” Teresa cries and Frankie is fuming, watching the EMT’s check you over as you are strapped on the gurney.

“Camera.” You cry, “there’s a camera on the mantle. I got it - it for the baby and I was testing it so it’s - it’s on my phone.” You need Frankie to come with you, you can’t face this alone.

Teresa starts to scream, pulling against the police officer that was untying the lamp cord from around her wrists. “I’m going to fucking kill you, you bitch!” She screeches, making Frankie scoff and shake his head at how she just proved that she wasn’t an innocent victim in this.

“I’ll give you her phone, but we are going to the hospital.” Frankie decides, walking over to where you are strapped down. “I’m going with her. Anything else can wait.”

The police officer takes your phone, asking you to unlock it and you do, handing it back to him and telling him the app. You cry out when another wave of pain overwhelms you. “Frankie please. I need - we need to go.” You beg, reaching for Frankie while Teresa struggles against the officer.

“I hope your bastard is dead.”

Frankie hisses, only your grip on his hand and your tears keep him from pulling away to grab his soon to be ex-wife. “You just lost everything, Teresa.” He spits. “You had already lost me, but you’re going to jail and there’s no way our daughter will be able to stay with you while you’re behind bars.” He tells her, “if our baby dies, I’ll make sure they fry you for it.”

The EMTs tell you you need to go and the officer's promise that they will take care of Teresa. She’s under arrest. Frankie nods, thanking the officers and the paramedics who push you out into the ambulance. “Frankie. I’m scared.” You sob when you are riding to the hospital, the pain in your belly still threatening to take your breath away.

“I know you are.” Frankie grips your hand like a lifeline and kisses the back of it. His other hand is caressing your forehead as he crowds the front of the ambulance while it races down the road. “I am too, but I’m right here with you.” He chokes out, knowing that if the baby dies, you will be inconsolable. He would be too, but he’s also afraid that you will blame him for all of this. “It’s - he’s strong, he’s going to be okay.” He doesn’t know that, but he wants to keep you feeling positive. “Just stay with me and breathe, baby.”

When you arrive at the hospital, you are immediately wheeled in and taken to a private room in the maternity ward. The doctors rushing in while the nurses change you and it’s all a blur. “Is my baby okay? Is he okay?” You ask over and over again, desperate to get an answer but no one gives you one while they place you on the hospital bed, running tests and someone comes in with an ultrasound machine. You freeze, knowing this is the moment you discover if your baby is okay. He hasn’t kicked since before Teresa arrived at your house to attack you. “Fuck.” You choke, closing your eyes as the nurse lifts your gown and covers your lower half. You can’t stand to look, you can’t face this moment despite Frankie squeezing your hand next to you.

Frankie is praying harder than he ever has in his entire life. Promising God, whoever is out there, anything in return for the safety and health of this baby. Of you. Knowing that he would never be able to survive losing you, his eyes search the ultrasound image and his ears strain to listen for any sound of life in your womb. “Come on buddy.” He begs under his breath, holding tight to your hand.

The nurse moves the wand and you cry when you don’t hear the heartbeat. Your entire body wracked with despair until you hear it. The steady and quick patter of your son’s heartbeat. You sob in relief, bringing Frankie’s arm up so you can cling to it. “He’s alive?” Frankie asks the nurse, tears in his eyes, and she nods.

“He’s alive but his heartbeat is slowing. We need to deliver him now.” The doctor walks over, “we will prepare you for an emergency c section. The placenta abruption isn’t good. Your baby needs to be out ASAP before he loses oxygen.” You sob again, scared that you could still lose him.

Frankie’s blood runs cold and he has to let go of your hand while they start prepping you. More nurses rush into the room and help him into a gown and gloves. “I’m here baby, they are going to save him.” He promises, silently begging the doctors to do just that. “We are going to meet him in just a few minutes.” He’s nearly crying and sniffles as he rushes back over to take your hand again.

You sob as they place the IV’s into your hand, placing the epidural into your back after doing all the checks and you wince, the coldness running down your spine as the anesthesia works. They place the screen up between you and your bump and you are still crying, scared to lose the baby you’ve worked so hard to nurture for nearly nine months. You can’t speak, unable to function as fear grips you while they cut you open. “Frankie. What - what is happening?”

Only the fact that he’s dealt with blood and trauma keeps him from blanching at the sight of them cutting you open. “They are cutting you open, baby. Getting ready to get the baby out.” He knows why they don’t want to have a mirror up over the curtain, but he also knows why you are frantic. “It’s okay, they are making it a nice looking cut. It’s gonna be a cute scar.” He’s trying to keep your mind off of the terror and failing miserably. “We need to decide on a name, we haven't settled on one yet.�� He squeezes your hand again and glances down at you. “Do you have one you like more?” There had been discussions, but neither one of you had picked on you loved yet.

You swallow, throat dry as you wait to hear your son’s cry as they bring him into the world and you look up at Frankie, mind whirling but you try to focus on him. “I, uh, I was thinking - thinking maybe Alexander. Like your dad. Or maybe…Leo. I, uh, Leo Alexander?” You suggest, knowing you’ve spent hours pouring over baby books to find the right name.

He would agree to any name that you want, but he feels tears rising to the surface when he thinks about you honoring his dad. He nods and leans down to kiss your forehead. “It’s a great name, baby. I - I want him to be Morales.” He murmurs softly. “Just like you will be one day.” His head jerks up when he hears a sound, a squawk and he looks over the divider again. “They have him out.”

You inhale sharply, worried that something went wrong with him. That Teresa accomplished what she set out to do. “Is he okay? Frankie. Is he okay?” You beg, needing to know.

Frankie looks to the doctor who holds the baby up and hands him to the nurse. “Is he okay?” He pleads, watching the nurse check the baby.

“All ten fingers and toes.” She announces and the nurse checks all his vitals while you wait, eyes wide and tears streaming down your cheeks.

Finally, the baby starts to cry, making Frankie let out a sob in relief as the nurse comes around and deposits him on your chest. “Oh god.” He murmurs, watching his son squirm and cry against your skin, thankful that he’s okay. “He’s okay baby, he’s okay.”

You sob, looking down at the baby who is crying on your chest. "Hey baby boy. Oh, you're so beautiful." You choke out before you start to sob again, so grateful that he is okay and not harmed by Teresa. Frankie leans down to rest his head on yours and you caress the baby's back, still covered in fluids but you don't care. He's okay and so are you.

“I’m so sorry baby.” Frankie sobs, tears sliding down his cheeks. The baby is early and you have been traumatized by what happened and it’s all his fault. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t - I didn’t protect you.” He reaches out and takes his son’s hand, his nose pressed against your cheek as he cries. “He’s perfect.”

You choke, knowing it’s hard but you know that it’s not Frankie’s fault. He should’ve left Teresa before this happened but you know she likely would’ve done the same thing no matter when the news broke. “He’s perfect. Frankie, please. Let’s focus on him.” You plead, not wanting to talk about what happened. Leo is all that matters now. “Leo.” You coo, caressing his cheek with your finger.

His heart feels like it’s being crushed, knowing you won’t forgive him for what happened. How could you? His wife almost killed you, almost killed the baby. Would have succeeded if he hadn’t shown up when he did. “Right.” He turns and presses trembling lips to his wet cheek, thankful for the angry noises his son is making, although he is calming down now that he’s pressed up against his momma. “You are so perfect, Leo.” He murmurs. “I love you. Remember that. Your daddy loves you.”

His words make your heart clench. You adore Frankie, love him more than you can comprehend, but you know he caused what happened today with Teresa by not telling her earlier. It will take a while to process that but you still want to be with him. “We are going to take him to clean him up and tag him and we will get you stitched up and into recovery.” The nurse says and you are reluctant to let go of Leo but you do, letting the nurse carry him away. You know you look awful, face swollen from both tears and Teresa’s hits.

Now that the baby is okay, Frankie is unsure of what you want. Barely able to look at you without breaking down again, he takes a shuddering breath. “Do you want me to stay?” He asks quietly, knowing you should want him to leave and never come back. “I can go sit with the baby if you - if you need space.”

“No. Stay. We need to talk.” You tell him, knowing it’s best to get it out of the way now so it doesn’t fester. They haven’t finished stitching you up yet. “Frankie. I- this is so hard.” His lower lip trembles and you reach up to caress it with your thumb. “I won’t lie, I’m upset because this happened because you didn’t tell Teresa before she found out. She would’ve freaked out regardless but it wasn’t handled right and that - it nearly killed our son…me. How did she find out?” You ask, frowning and realizing you never knew that.

He shakes his head, unsure of how she had known. “I don’t know.” He admits quietly. “Unless she put a tracker on me. Which I don’t put past her.” He wants to touch you, but he’s so damn afraid you will push him away so he crosses his gowned arms over his chest. “I was- I was coming over to show you the papers and ask you to go stay with Will and Ben tonight.” He glances at your battered face and then looks away guiltily. “I was going to give her the papers tonight. Tell her about you and the baby. Tell her that I was done playing her games.”

You swallow the harsh reality that he was too late but you don’t know for sure that Teresa wouldn’t have done this anyway. “It’s - we can’t change it now. She’s going to prison, hopefully, and you have to worry about Allie and explaining to her where her mom has gone. We are okay, baby. Me and Leo are okay. I just - God, I was terrified she was going to kill me, kill him.”

“I know.” Frankie had been terrified of that too. He closes his eyes and drops down to his knees beside your bed, ignoring the doctors who are still working on you. His head presses against your hand on the bed. “I - I was afraid I wouldn’t get to her in time. If- if I had a gun I would have killed her, right then. I thought about it.” He confesses. “As I dragged her off you. I never hit her but I thought about killing her.”

You run your fingers through his hair. “She’s gone now. Thankfully. You and Allie will be better off without her. I just - I love you. I was so scared, especially thinking I was going to lose Leo.” You choke. “I love you Frankie. She’s gone. We are okay.”

“I love you.” That promise comes easily, truthfully. He loves you with everything that he is. “You, Allie and Leo, you three are my world.” He leans into your touch and lifts his head to press his lips to your hand. “I love you so much. I couldn’t lose you on that mountain and I couldn’t lose you today.”

Tears sting in your eyes and you look down at him, knowing that no matter what happened, Leo is safe and healthy and you will always love Frankie. “That mountain brought us Leo and I could never regret that.” You promise, “I want to be a mother figure to Allie, show her love, treat her how she deserves to be treated.” You tell him and Frankie kisses your hand again, choking on the emotions gathered in his throat. Once you are stitched up, you are taken to the recovery room and Leo is brought to you so you can start to get him latched. You look down in awe of your son, tears stinging in your eyes and you can’t believe Teresa nearly took this from you.

Frankie hovers, making calls and discovering that Teresa had left Allie with a sitter while she had come over to confront you. He’s relieved that she was safe and talked the sitter into staying with her just a bit longer until her Uncle Benny could come get her and bring her to him in the hospital. Police came and took statements, returning your phone to you after they had gotten the evidence off of it and soon the stress of the day exhausted you, leaving him to watch over you and Leo while you slept, vowing that he would do everything in his power to make sure that you stayed safe. He had made so many mistakes that it had almost cost him, but he was determined to never do that again. ****

“Babe! We’ve got the diapers.” He calls out as he pushes the door open to the house.

“Yeah babe!” Allie giggles as she struggles to carry the large pack into the house behind him. “We gots diapers.” She had been insistent that she was going to carry Bubby’s diapers in while Frankie got the rest of the groceries.

He and Allie had moved into your house, unwilling to go back to that home he had shared with Teresa and you had insisted that you didn’t want to leave the nursery you had set up for Leo, despite the fact that his ex had almost killed you here. Both of them had been happier here, Allie clinging to you and immediately falling in love with her little brother. She had rarely asked about her mom and seemed okay with the fact that she had gone on a long trip. Frankie had decided to explain everything better when she was older and could understand. “I also picked up dinner!”

You groan, making your way out into the living room. "You are a savior, baby. I just put the little man down for his nap and I will get the plates out. You hungry, baby girl?" You reach out to caress Allie's hair after you take the diapers from her. You tilt your head up to kiss Frankie, sighing into his mouth and you reach out to take a bag from Frankie. You are excited for tonight once the kids are asleep. You've been cleared and tonight, you want Frankie. You, Frankie, and Allie carry everything into the kitchen and you work on putting the groceries away. "Go wash your hands for dinner, Al." You tell the little girl who smiles, rushing off and she's clearly excited for pizza.

Allie goes thundering out of the room to wash her hands and Frankie wraps his arms around you. “How are you feeling, baby?” He’s been protective, almost overly so since you were released, not letting you do much around the house and trying to help you with the small things so you can recover and heal. “Your stitches pulling?”

"They are fine. Frankie, stop worrying. I am okay. I went to the doctor today and we - I was cleared for us to...you know." You smile, leaning against him. You want him. Your first time having him since the night you conceived Leo. You kiss his jaw, "I want to. Tonight. When Allie is in bed, I want you, Francisco.

Frankie groans, pushing his hips against your ass so you can feel his hardening cock. He’s been sleeping in the bed with you, unable to be away from you after what had happened, but he hasn’t touched you sexually. It’s been killing him since you are so sexy, taking care of Leo and feeding him, being so good to his daughter. “I’m going to make you feel good, I promise.” His hand slides down to cup your pussy over your leggings. “Are you still bleeding? Fuck it- I don’t care, I want to eat you out.”

You moan, leaning back against him. "No - not bleeding anymore." You whimper, pussy clenching around nothing at his words. "Di- dinner first." You pant, your lips hovering against his and you pull back when Allie rushes back into the kitchen. "You want cheese, baby girl?" You ask her and she nods, "yes please!" You smile, grabbing the plates after pulling away from Frankie. "Later." You promise when you pass him, setting the plates down while Frankie grabs the pizza boxes.

He tries to concentrate on Allie, the little girl much happier and soaking up the positive attention that you drown her in. The hours until his daughter is tucked into her Princess toddler bed and Leo is down for the next few hours is going to crawl by. He keeps his gaze on you, dark eyes caressing your face as he imagines everything he’s going to do to you once the little ones are asleep. “Baby..” he murmurs as Allie munches on her small pizza slice. “Did you get on birth control or do I need to go to the store?” He asks quietly so his young daughter doesn’t hear. “Because I’m not pulling out.”

His words make your entire body shiver and you lean closer, looking into those dark eyes. "I- I got an IUD at the hospital. I didn't - figured we wouldn't want another one so soon so you can - you don't have to pull out." You tell him, cunt fluttering at the thought of having him again. This time in a nice warm bed, no need to be scared or worried. You are safe and happy and with the man you love. Your family.

He nods, nostrils flaring slightly at the knowledge that he doesn’t have to pull out of you and he can still protect you from having another baby too soon. He would want another one if you do, he’ll give you as many kids as you want, wants to have a proper pregnancy that he can share in and enjoy from beginning to end. But all of that is up to you. “I’ll put the babies to bed tonight.” He promises. You pump milk and he can feel Leo a bottle before bed. “I want you to soak in a bath and relax before I spread you out and keep you up all night long with my tongue inside you and my-” He pauses because Allie looks up but his expression tells you exactly what part of him he wants inside of your cunt. “Making you shake.”

You stare at him, biting your lip at the dark look in his eyes and you whimper, unable to stop yourself until Leo starts to cry over the baby monitor. “I’ll be right back.” You stand up, ruffling Allie’s hair which makes her squeal and you chuckle, glancing back at Frankie as you decide to shave and look good tonight. You’ve waited so long for tonight, you want it to be perfect. After dinner, Frankie insists on cleaning up, giving Allie a bath and getting both her and Leo ready for bed. You exhale in bliss when you get into the bath in your bathroom, sighing at the warm water and you close your eyes, enjoying a moment to yourself after looking after Leo all day.

Showing in the other bathroom, Frankie shaves and decides that he is going to set the mood for tonight. He’s honestly a romantic at heart and he feels bad that he had not been able to give you any of those things until now. The lawyer had assured him that the divorce would be final soon, Teresa had entered a plea deal with the state since there was overwhelming evidence against her, a sentence of 10 years behind bars was minimum and he couldn’t be happier. Now he was focused on you and his future, lighting candles and turning down the lights so there is a romantic glow over the bedroom you’ve been sharing.

You exhale shakily as you make your way into the bedroom, silk robe on and nothing else and you hope he doesn’t mind the changes that your body has gone through. You pull the robe tighter and breathe deeply as you step out into the bedroom, gasping at the sight of the candles everywhere. “Frankie.” You whimper as you look over at him sitting on the bed, his shirt unbuttoned and hair damp, freshly shaven and your heart melts.

“Hey baby.” He gives you a soft smile and stands up so he can walk over to you. “Did you enjoy your bath?” He wants to make sure you have an amazing night tonight, nervous as if it’s the first time but in many ways it is. That one time was filled with angst and frantic will to make sure you survived. He wants this to be about love and passion. He walks over to you and wraps his hand around your back to pull you close to him.

You reach up to caress his bare chest, your eyes meeting his. “It was good. Nice to relax after the little monster keeps us occupied.” You chuckle softly, “Allie is the good one.” You smile, “Leo has my stubbornness.” You slide your hands up to play with his damp hair. “I love you Frankie.” You whisper, kissing his jaw.

His eyes slide closed and he inhales a deep breath, his other arm coming around you so he can hold you. “I love you too.” He promises. “So much. I love you so fucking much baby.” He turns his head so he can press his lips to yours and his hands slide down to your ass over the silky material of your robe.

Your lips move against his, slow and passionate until it gets hot and heavy, your tongue sliding against his as you press yourself up against him. Your fingers tangled in his hair and you tug, loving the way he groans into your mouth, cock already hard against your hip.

“Baby, I want you.” He murmurs, kissing down along your throat and scraping his teeth over your pulse. He steers you back towards the bed so he can lay you down. Eager to pull your robe off of you so he can worship you properly.

You watch him as he lays you down, grabbing your waist to settle you against the pillows and he reaches for the tie of your robe. “Frank, baby, I’m not - Leo changed my body and I- I have the scar.” You swallow, worried he won’t like what he sees after all the sacrifices he’s made, the trials he has endured to be here right now.

He snorts and shakes his head. “Baby, I was there when they cut you open. I know you are going to have a scar.” He doesn’t rip open your robe but he does slide a hand under the edge to slide along your stomach and trace your scar gently with his fingertips. “I love every fucking inch of you and every mark on your body - including the one that gave us Leo.”

You exhale shakily in relief at the look in those dark eyes. “I want you.” You reach down to undo the belt to the robe for him, pushing the material aside to expose your body to that gaze that makes your entire body light up. Years have led to this moment and you are ready to feel him, to savor him and enjoy being with the man you love.

“Fuck.” Frankie groans, his cock pulsing in his boxers and he leans down to kiss your lips softly. “You are fucking gorgeous baby, and I am going to prove it to you.” He lets the kiss linger, his tongue sliding against yours briefly before he breaks away and starts to kiss down your neck and across your chest. “I know- I can’t take much but I want to taste.” He groans, having dreamed about drinking from you. “Later.”

You shiver as he kisses down your stomach and you shift to sit up on your elbows, watching him as his eyes meet yours while he kisses along the scar on your belly. “Don’t tease.” You plead, reaching down to caress his shoulders.

He chuckles softly and winks at you, deciding to give you what you want. He kisses down to the top of your mound before he inhales your scent with a groan. “God, you smell so good.” He rasps out, his eyes dark as he looks up at you.

You giggle, a little nervous and Frankie gives you a lopsided grin as he leans closer, his cheek resting on your thigh as he takes another moment to breathe you in. “Frankie.” You whine, needing him to touch you. When his tongue slides through your folds, your back arches off of the bed and a gasp escapes your lips.

He groans into you, loving the reaction and the musky, tangy taste of you. Curling his tongue around your clit and flicking it over the bundle of nerves before he sucks it into his mouth. His fingers curl into your hip and hold you tight while you buck up before he throws his arm over your stomach to hold you down. Eager to make you feel nothing but pleasure.

You whine when he sucks on your clit, making you cover your face with your arm, unable to do anything but let him pleasure you. “Fuck Frankie. It’s - it’s so good.” You gasp, “I want - want more.”

He pulls away and kisses your clit. “I’ll take care of you.” He promises, sliding his hand up and starting to circle your entrance with two fingers while his tongue does the same with your clit. Groaning when you push your hips down slightly to try to impale yourself on his fingers. “I’ve got you.” He coos before he pushes them inside you and sucks your clit back in his mouth.

You cry out softly, trying not to wake the baby and Allie. His mouth is blazing hot and you are lost in the pleasure already. It's been so long since anyone went down on you. Your thighs clench around his head when his fingers curl on the next wet pump of his digits. "Fuck Frankie. It's - you're so good at this."

He hums, letting the vibrations press against your clit. Wanting nothing more than to make you break. His tongue slides though your folds again, constantly moving and devouring you like you are his last meal. His eyes stay fixed on you, watching the way that your body shakes and you move, enjoying the way your face twists in pleasure.

"Oh shit baby. You're gonna - I'm gonna-" It's been too long since someone went down on you and the way he is sucking your clit has you on the edge and when his fingers push deep again, you are sent over the edge with a cry of his name. Back arching as much as possible and your fingers gripping the pillow behind your head.

He drags you through it, keeping his lips attached to you so he can wring every second of pleasure out of you that he can. He groans into you, loving how wet you get, soaking his fingers with your cum.

You whine when it becomes too much, pushing his head away and running your fingers through his hair when he looks up at you, mouth slick with your cum. “Take your pants off, I want to see all of you.” You order, caressing his cheek.

He knows that you didn’t get to see him much that night. It was too cold and he was concentrating on trying to warm you up. Kissing your hand, he climbs off the bed and shrugs out of his shirt and pulls down the sleep pants and boxers that he had put on after his shower. His cock is already hard, bobbing and proud as he steps out of them and stands straight to let you look.

“Fuck. You- fuck Frankie. You’re - you are so thick. How the hell did I manage to walk down a mountain the next day?” You blurt out, making him chuckle and you shift onto your hands and knees, leaning forward to kiss his stomach, sliding your tongue over the scars on his body. “You’re gorgeous.” You tell him between kisses.

“Not nearly as gorgeous as you.” He gasps out, cupping the back of your head and trying to urge you up so he can kiss you. Wanting to kiss you again before he crawls between your legs. “How do w-want me to fuck you, baby?” He asks breathlessly, closing his eyes on a groan when your tongue flicks against his nipple.

“Let me ride you. Will be better since it’s been a while and the c section.” You shift to kneel, pressing your lips to his and wrapping your arms around his neck. “I love you. Let me ride you.” You murmur against his lips.

Frankie would let you have anything that you want so he nods and shifts so he can lay down. “Baby, I love you, come sit on my cock.”

You shuffle forward to straddle him, looking down at him and you settle on his thighs. You reach down to wrap your fingers around his cock, pumping him slowly and he groans, his hands caressing your waist. You shift closer, lifting up so you can notch his cock at your entrance, looking into his eyes as you sink down onto him.

His mouth drops open on a moan, watching as you envelope him in the nearly breathtaking confines of your body. Squeezing him like a vice as you sink down on him and finally your ass is pressed against his thighs and you grind down on him.

You pant, unable to believe how good this feels to have him inside of you. You place your palms on his chest, looking down at him in awe. “God, feel so good baby. I love you.” You moan, starting to move your hips once you are finally comfortable.

“L-love you too.” He pants out, his hands moving to your hips as you start to set a pace that works for you. You look gorgeous and he bites his lip at how tight you squeeze him. “Fuck-“ he groans. “Can I- fuck, let me taste you-your milk.” He begs.

You whimper, reaching for his hands to bring them to your tits. “Do it. If you- if you want to, suck.” You order, grinding onto his cock and you whine when his cock falls out on a thrust and you reach behind you to put him back inside of you. “Fuck baby.” You moan when his lips wrap around your nipple, “is it - is it good?”

Frankie shudders, moaning around your nipple and nodding quickly. He sucks and the spurt of hot milk hits his tongue and he twitches inside you. “So good.” He gasps as he wraps his arm around you and pulls you closer. He nuzzles against your tits.

You reach up to tangle your fingers in his hair, your tits pushed into his face with each rock of your hips. You moan his name, loving how his cock twitches inside of you and there’s no rush this time. No urgency or life or death situation. It’s just the two of you. Safe in your home with all the time in the world.

His hips move up as he starts to kiss along your breasts, inhaling the scent and taking your nipple back into his mouth. He won’t take too much but he likes the way you clench around him as he sucks. “Love you.”

You gasp, loving his words and him. You’ve been in love with him for so long, felt like this love has been purely emotional until this moment and it’s overwhelming, making tears sting in your eyes. “I love you too.” You choke, tilting your head down to kiss him while tears fall on your cheeks.

He groans, reaching up and wiping your tears while he works his hips up. Wanting you to cum for him. “So beautiful. So perfect. My love, my life.”

His words, the way he looks at you, his gentle touch, and his cock buried deep all combined send you over the edge. You press your lips against his, crying into his mouth as your walls clamp down on his cock, your entire body shaking as your orgasm wracks you.

Frankie shudders, gasping out your name when you cum around him. Rocking up into you while he chases his own release. Loving that he gets to have you now. This is what he wanted, all that he’s ever wanted. Another half dozen thrusts and he’s lost, pushing deep and filling you with the heat of his seed.

You slump against him, panting as he stills beneath you, muscles tensed and you kiss his jaw, kissing his nose, his cheeks and finally his lips. You’ve never felt more connected to him, knowing that he’s yours and you are his. “Ask me.” You whisper.

He frowns, pulling back to look at you. “What?” He asks.

“I know you have been wanting to ask me to marry you. Ask me. You already know the answer.”

He chuckles and shakes his head, reaching up and cupping your cheek and kissing you softly as he whispers your name. “Will you marry me? I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

You smile, “yes, I will marry you, but you already knew that.” You coo playfully, unable to wait until you can be his wife. “Mrs. Morales has a nice ring to it. I want to have another baby too. I want you to be able to be there for everything.” You tell him.

“I want that too.” He promises, smiling and nearly tearing up at the idea. “I won’t miss anything. Not a single appointment.” He slides his hand down to your stomach and caresses the scar gently. “I love you and I want another baby with you, whenever you are ready to have one.”

“Soon.” You promise, “as for the wedding…something small. Courthouse and a party here with all the guys and our friends. I don’t want anything fancy. I just want you. I’ve always wanted you Frankie. I love you.” You murmur, kissing him again.

He smiles and you love the crinkle at the corner of his eyes, showing how truly happy he is. You rest your forehead against his until your hear the squawk of Leo through the baby monitor. “I’ll get him.” Frankie says, wanting you to relax and you nod, shifting off of him to lay down on the bed, grabbing your robe to put it on. Frankie disappears and reappears a few moments later with a crying Leo.

You reach for him, placing him in your arms and he immediately finds your breast. “I definitely want another one.” You grin at Frankie as he watches you and he shifts to sit beside you.

“Whenever you want, baby.” He promises and you smile, resting your head on his shoulder. One fateful night on a cold mountain has led to the rest of your lives.

#pedro pascal #frankie catfish morales x reader #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales smut #frankie morales imagine

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hisaacswrites · 9 months

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Bake Room in Your Heart for Me? Chapter 3

【 Fandom: Call of Duty 【 Main Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x John "Soap" MacTavish 【 Rating: M for Mature 【 Trigger Warnings: -

Summary:

When Simon first interviewed for The Great British Baking Show, he hadn’t expected anything to come of it. He certainly didn’t expect to win. Despite the chaos it brought to his life, he couldn’t really complain. It landed him the best job he could ask for and a close circle of friends who actually seemed to enjoy his company. It also led him to his biggest fan, one John MacTavish, who’s determined to win him over one baked good at a time. — Or, The baking AU that no one asked for

← Chapter 2 】 ⦿ Chapter 3 ⦿ 【 Chapter 4 →

☆ Read on AO3

【 Chapter Specific Warnings: - 【 Notes: Un-beta'd, as always! Did brainstorm this fic and it's now fully outlined. Have a total of 12 chapters planned, though I may go for 13 for that sweet baker's dozen. No set update schedule in mind yet; will hopefully nail down something consistent once I get into the swing of things.

Bake Room in Your Heart for Me? Masterlist ⦿ CoD Library ⦿ Hayden Isaacs Library

🍰 Chapter 3

"And then he says, 'Do you knead a baking partner? Because I promise I could fire up your oven like no other!'"

Alejandro choked on a breath at Rudy's delivery, his shoulders shaking as he quaked with laughter.

"I swear, Ale, I've never seen Soap so red or Ghost run away so quickly!"

His back to his two gossiping assistants, Simon scowled to himself and forcefully ignored them as he finished the base layer of frosting for the cake he was working on. Relegating Rudy and Alejandro's conversation to background noise, he gave the cake one last spin on the turntable to make sure the sides were perfectly smooth. As he reached for one of his prepared piping bags, a bolt of pain rocketed through his arm, branching from his inner elbow up to his shoulder and down to his fingertips. The sudden pain had his fingers seizing up, and the bag slipped from his hold to land back onto the countertop with a muted flop.

Gritting his teeth against the pain and frustration, Simon pretended that he couldn't hear the pause in his coworkers’ conversation or feel their eyes on his back. It had been nearly three years since the injury that had resulted in his medical discharge from the service, but the damage was done - and permanent. Some days were better than others: he could go a month without any flair-ups from the nerve damage, only then to be in debilitating pain and have a persistent tremor for an entire week.

As he picked up the piping bag again and ignored the faint tingling in his fingertips, Simon tried to put the anger and resentment out of his mind. He had dedicated his life to the SAS. For the longest time, his military career kept him going and to have it cut brutally short by some stupid FUBAR’d mission had been (and still was) a hard pill to swallow. Baking had become his saving grace. His injury had fucked up his already questionable life; having it affect the one thing that he had found to keep him sane was devastating.

Rudy and Alejandro were still laughing about Soap and his "Lack of rizz", whatever that meant, when Simon raised the piping bag to his cake. His hands trembled as he spun the stand and piped his swags but his eyes resumed laser-focused until he completed a full circuit. Putting the bag down and pretending he couldn’t feel his hands shake, Simon took a mental step back to look over his handiwork.

His pulse thrummed in his ears as he stared at the crooked and broken swags of frosting he had just piped and he struggled to not completely shut down. He felt like a precariously stacked Jenga tower, one already filled with gaping holes and leaning bricks. He was teetering on the edge, struggling to remain balanced but helpless in the face of one more piece getting removed. He had no idea if he would be able to stay standing or if he, and everything he had struggled to build and rebuild and fight for, would come crashing down on top of him.

Simon clenched his jaw as he reached for his straight-edged scraper and angrily dragged it across the sides of the cake. The tremble in his hand persisted, causing the edge of the scraper to gauge erratic trenches into the cake, some so deep that they reached through the layer of dirty icing to the cake layers themselves. Setting the scraper down next to the cake with a clatter, Simon gripped the edge of the counter with white knuckles. Shoulders hunched to his ears, he could see his entire arm shaking even as he forcefully tried to keep it steady. His nerves were on fire, and he knew that trying to force his muscles to work the way he wanted to like this was doing more harm than good, but he just wanted to bake, dammit, and-

Tanned knuckles rapped on the counter next to him and Simon blinked, jolted out of his thoughts mid-spiral. Unclenching his stiff fingers from around the counter, he straightened up and glanced over to see Rudy looking at him with a concerned expression.

"All good, hermano?"

Simon could hear Alejandro mixing something behind him, but he could also feel the furtive glances he was no doubt sending their way.

"Fine," Simon grunted in response, reaching for his frosting spatula and ignoring the way Rudy’s eyes darted to the butchered cake.

Rudy watched Simon load up the spatula with frosting, rhythmically tapping his fingers on the counter while his superior started slathering on frosting to fix the gauged cake. The process required little finesse, but Rudy’s sharp eyes could still spot the way Ghost’s hand was shaking and causing the spatula to dig into the sides of the cake.

"You’ve been at these display cakes for hours, Ghost." Rudy said suddenly, "Why don’t you let me finish this one up so you can take a break?"

Simon stiffened, ready to refute the need for a break, when Alejandro chimed in as if they had planned the conversation. "Rudy’s right, Ghost! You’ve been working all morning; let Rudy and I take over for a bit. We’re your assistants. We have to earn our keep, no?"

Simon's brow furrowed as he looked from Rudy to Alejandro, and then back down to his last cake. He wanted to argue, to insist that he was fine and that he would finish out his shift according to schedule, but his eyes couldn't help but catch on the jagged marks and remnants of crooked frosting on the cake. His arm ached, and he knew that even if he took his time, his work would be unacceptably sloppy compared to Rudy's in his current state. He could feel something in his chest crack at the realization, but he refused to let it show, especially with both Rudy and Alejandro still staring at him.

"Alright," Simon agreed roughly, his gruff tone clearly reluctant. "But remember—"

"To pipe the mini carrots on the border, I've got it!" Rudy interrupted, lightly hip-checking Simon out of the way and taking the frosting spatula from him. Simon huffed. Usually, he'd have a witty retort ready to fire off, but he just didn't have the energy today. The pain, both physical and mental, had taken it from him.

Alejandro had clearly noticed, as he was quick to add, "Why don't you just call it a day, amigo? There's not much else to do and we're ahead of schedule for the rest of the week."

Simon thought about arguing, about insisting on finishing out his shift, but... Alejandro was technically right. It was later in the afternoon, and if he just took a break, there wouldn't be much left of his shift to finish out anyways. The cafe had had a huge influx of custom orders this week, so he, Rudy, and Alejandro had been pushing to finish everything ahead of time just in case something else came up. And, honestly, licking his wounds in private over a cup of hot tea sounded perfect. (It wasn't brooding, okay? It was self-reflection.)

Simon sighed, knowing that Rudy and Alejandro had won and hating having to admit defeat. Sensing their manager's resignation, the two assistant bakers shared a grin but chose not to rub any further salt into the wound. Instead, they waved Simon out of the kitchen, barely hearing his grumbled goodbyes as they chatted lightheartedly in Spanish.

Simon let the door swing quietly behind him as he entered the dark hallway that connected the kitchen to the other back rooms, only allowing his shoulders to slump when he was sure he was alone. His whole body had started to ache, his arm most of all, and he could feel the exhaustion settling in over his mind. It was a struggle untying his apron and hanging it from its hook, and, not for the first time, he lamented over his uselessness. He had been one of the best operatives the SAS had ever seen, one of the most renowned snipers in the world, and now he couldn't even pipe a cake properly. His self-deprecating chuckle was dry and bitter as he pulled on his hoodie and settled his backpack on his shoulders, soldiering through the resulting ache that shot through his bad arm. The raised hood and facemask made him feel a bit more secure, a bit more normal, but Simon knew he wouldn't truly be comfortable until he was locked safely in his flat.

Resting his arm in the front pocket of his hoodie as a sort of makeshift sling, Simon walked through the back hallway of the cafe. Price was in today, so Simon figured he'd tell him he'd be leaving early on his way out. Price's office was empty, though, as was the break room, and the bathroom was dark. As he approached the door connecting the back of the cafe to the public area, Simon could hear Price's distinctive rough baritone amongst the rest of the cafe chatter.

Nudging the door open with his boot, Simon entered Cafe 141 proper. It was busy but not packed, the mellow music and muted conversation creating an ambiance that would have been soothing on any other day. Gaz manned the counter with his customary cheeky grin and Simon could see Price seated at the windows at the front of the cafe. It looked like he was having a drink with someone, but it wasn't until Simon was halfway across the cafe that he realized it was Soap.

He paused.

Simon had seen Soap a few times since their first interaction but hadn't actually spoken to him since then. He wasn't sure how to act around the Scot, in all honesty, so it was perfect that so far he was able to stay back in the kitchen and bake while Gaz amused his long-time friend when he showed up in the cafe's front. Simon's luck seemed to have run out, though, as Price was chatting with Soap and looked to be quite enthralled in the conversation.

He weighed his options. Simon really didn't want to interrupt Price while he was in the middle of something, and he especially didn't want to navigate the awkwardness that would be speaking to Soap. Neither Simon nor Price were especially fond of phones, preferring to discuss things face to face, but beggars couldn't be choosers; he'd just head out and text Price that he was leaving a bit early while on his way home.

Mind made up, he wove his way through the tables and patrons towards the front door. He was in the home stretch when a young man, too enthralled with his phone to pay attention to where he was going, shoulder-checked Simon with a muted curse. Simon was able to dodge the sloshing of the coffee mug in the other man's hand, but the owner of the cup wasn't so lucky and he spun to berate the person he had run into. Once he looked up and saw just who (and how tall, broad, and gloomy Simon appeared) it was, the patron seemed much more apologetic and hurried off without another word.

Unfortunately, the damage had already been done.

"Simon!" Price called out, having paused his conversation with Soap at the commotion. "C'mere and meet someone!"

Simon glanced at the door, debating whether he could pretend he hadn't heard Price and make it out of the cafe in one piece. When Price met his eyes and waved, however, he resigned himself to his fate and detoured towards the window table. Looming over Price like a dark shadow, Simon refused to look over at Soap, unsure of what he'd find — or if he even wanted to know.

If Price could sense the tension between the two men, he skillfully ignored it. "Soap, this dreary bastard is Simon, the head baker of Cafe 141 'nd our baking genius. Simon, this is Soap, a long-term pain in my arse but my favorite brilliant pyromaniac."

Simon cringed at his introduction and could see Soap's cheeks flushing a bright red out of the corner of his eye at his own. He cleared his throat awkwardly.

"We've, uh... Met before. Gaz introduced us the other day." Simon nodded in Soap's direction, finally meeting his gaze. The other man was staring at him again, but Simon couldn't decipher his expression. Price spoke up before he could try to read his face, regaining his attention.

"Did ya, now? Tha' would explain some of Gaz's cackling, I'd imagine. Thought his cap might've been on too tight with the way he was carrying on." Price looked over to Soap, taking in how the Scot's blush was intensifying and spreading. The poor man looked to be at a loss for words and Simon decided to cut him some slack, if only to save himself from the conversation as well.

"I'm actually about to head out now, Price," he murmured. "Rudy and Alejandro are wrappin' up for the rest of the day and we're ahead of schedule for this week's orders."

Price's heavy brows lowered, the thin line of his mouth disappearing behind his beard as he considered Simon. It was clear that he knew that there was something else going on–Simon rarely left before the official end of his shift without being dragged out–but he kept his questions to himself with Soap present.

"Alrigh'," He said, tipping his bucket hat at Simon. "Won't be in tomorrow, so have a good night, 'nd see you next week."

Another sharp jolt of pain sparked up his elbow, reminding him to hurry things along, but Simon grit his teeth and managed a gruff "Aye, you as well," in response. He turned to Soap to offer a perfunctory goodbye but was beaten to the punch.

"'Twas good seeing ye again, Simon." Soap said. Quick, easy, and polite. The perfect send-off. Or, it would have been if he had stopped there.

"Yer cake looked delicious today, am glad I got a taste."

There was a pause, Soap looking increasingly mortified and Simon unsure if Soap had meant the double entendre.

"Thanks? I'm, uh, glad you liked them?"

The lackluster response from Simon seemed to make Soap realize exactly what he had said, and he rushed to correct himself. "Ah meant yer cake! Nae like yer cake, cake, but the cake that ye bake! In the oven! Nae tae say that yer personal cake isnae stoatin, tis top tier, pure, 'n ye must work out fer a bum like that, but–" Soap forcibly shut his mouth with a choked noise, the beet red color of his face clashing with the spattering of freckles across his nose. His accent seemed to only get stronger as he wound himself up. Simon thought, in bemusement, that it would have been cute if wasn't taken aback by the word vomit and could actually understand what the Scot was trying to say.

"I just meant," Soap rushed on to say, "That yer special cake, wait, nae, yer cake special fer t'day, the lemon blueberry, was delicious, those layers were sae light 'n fluffy, 'n that ye must be an expert at beating it."

Simon stared at Soap. He could see Price struggling to contain himself in his peripheral vision, but Soap looked so earnest, if a bit embarrassed. Still, he had no idea how to respond to all... that without just piling on the awkwardness.

"Thanks," Simon grunted, backing up slowly before jerking his thumb over his shoulder. "I'm just going to. Head out. Uh, now. Bye." He spun on his heel and made it out of the door in a few long strides, quickly disappearing down the sidewalk. (He wasn't running away, dammit! He had places to be.)

Silence stretched between Price and Soap at their table, the men silent as the cafe chatter continued around them. It was only when Simon was out of eyesight that Price spoke up, leveling Soap with a judgmental stare.

"I've been shot before, lad, and that was the most painful thing I've ever had to endure."

"Absolutely rizz-less," Gaz agreed, appearing from nowhere to nod sagely.

"I dinnae ken what's wrong with me," Soap groaned, tugging at his mohawk with both hands as he slumped in his seat.

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blue-manuscript · 6 months

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NaNoWriMo 2023: Day 7

Happy NaNoWriMo 2023! I will be posting excepts of my writing every day of the challenge, to keep myself accountable and to share the pieces I like! I am continuing the novel I started last year, The Lucien Project so search #nanowrimo on my page to get up to date.

11/6/2023 Word Count: 1,706 Total 2023: 11,739

But his dolphin needed a face, Lucien realized with a start. He set his paintbrush and palette down on a nearby table, and went to searching through his paints for black. It should have been just right there - he had used it earlier in the afternoon to make the dolphin’s gray. He picked up strewn bottles and tubes of paint, finding himself with fistfuls of blue, yellow, orange, green, white, and purple. None of them were black. Lucien grunted, his lips pushed tightly shut, and he threw the paints to the floor. It wasn’t right, it didn’t make sense - had the other boy stolen his paint while Lucien wasn’t looking? Why would he do something like that? Maybe it was Frames. Frames was always mean. Frames always threw away his paintings. And now, Frames was making sure his painting could never be complete.

Lucien couldn’t contain his frustration. He had been trying for months to paint his dolphin, to express something to the world that they could understand without seeing him. Lucien tore the sheet of paper from the easel carelessly, tearing the crude painting in two. He crumbled up the half of it that came freely into his hand, before turning around and tossing the bit across the room, towards the door. He returned to look at the rest of his painting, hanging to the clip on the easel by barely a corner. He tore the remaining sheet free from the easel, and set himself to shredding the painting into pieces on the floor. Still unsatisfied, Lucien looked back at the now-empty easel, wishing he had the strength to tear the wooden pieces apart bit by bit. Instead, he pushed it over with a forceful grunt, his mouth opening just a bit.

The easel fell to the stained tile floor with a resounding crash. Lucien was breathing heavily, tears pricking at the corner of his eyes. He hadn’t been so frustrated since Gray had left him alone for the first time, and he found himself lost in the jungle that was the Hospital’s halls. He wanted to scream, he wanted to yell at somebody, he wanted to be heard -

Lucien choked on his voice the second he tried to activate it. The taste of blood filled his mouth, and his throat suddenly felt sore, swollen, and scratched. He swallowed down the blood and forced his lips back shut. He remembered what happened last time he had tried to yell for help. He had fallen into black, and woke up covered in wires, hungry and alone. He swallowed more blood, though this time, the metallic taste was not so strong. He forced his lips shut and set his jaw, focusing on making his tears stop and making the frustration go away.

He thought about the little girl from earlier, and suddenly felt regret for destroying the painting. She had worked on it, too. What if she came to play with Lucien again? Would he be able to show her what he did? Filled with that sudden feeling of guilt, Lucien gave himself a new task: put the painting back together before the girl came back. He didn’t know how much time he had - would she be back this afternoon? Tomorrow? The day after? He found some tape from one of the cubbies, and started to gather the pile of ripped shreds he had discarded in his anger earlier. He went to the entrance of the playroom, and grabbed the crumpled ball. He sat down at one of the tables with the destroyed artwork, and started to piece it back together.

Lucien thought it reminded him of putting together a puzzle. It had been months since he’d worked on any jigsaws in the playroom, mostly because he’d already done the three puzzles the Hospital had at least four times over. This, however, was a new puzzle. And, it was a hard puzzle - with so much blue, and so much gray, Lucien found it difficult to find pieces and shreds that actually matched with each other. He started, instead, to group the strips into three separate piles, of gray, blue, and gray-and-blue. He made it about halfway through the process before he heard the playroom’s door click open once again.

Lucien didn’t turn away from this project. He was scared that the painting, even in pieces, would disappear the second he turned away.

#creative writing #writing #nanowrimo #national novel writing month #the lucien project #science fiction #excerpt #novel excerpt #original writing

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devildomdisaster · 3 years

Text

Comfort spell gone wrong (the dateables)

Anonymous asked: for the lore Olympus ask but with the dateables. (Deleted this ask by accident but here it is)

Comfort spell gone wrong

Not only had the brothers been completely horrible the past few weeks but even your friends in purgatory hall and Diavolo himself had been too busy for you.

You understood that Simeon was busy helping Luke work through some things. But still, being brushed aside after the brothers had been so cruel towards you hadn’t helped your crumbling self-worth.

Solomon had heaved a big sigh and told you “They're demons Mc. It’s what they do. You’re going to have to grow a thicker skin. Besides, I don’t have time to help you with something so trivial.” Before handing you a page from a spellbook “if you really can’t deal with it yourself use this for comfort.”

You’d undeniably ruined Barbatos’s hard work when you’d tripped and tipped over the cake he’d been working on all morning. The demon had shooed you from his domain with barely concealed rage and asked you not to come back until “you can prevent yourself from causing me more work.”

Diavolo, despite always telling you you could come to him with your troubles, had snapped that Solomon seemed to be doing just fine. “So maybe you need to try harder, Mc. Rather than blaming your problems on other people.”

The spell Solomon had given you seemed simple enough. Although it was in an unfamiliar mix of Latin and Infernal. Couldn’t hurt to try though. At least not anymore than you were already hurting. You’d cast the spell, stumbling through a few words and thinking it hadn’t worked when nothing happened. Figures you couldn’t do it, you were still new to magic and just as useless at it as everyone had so kindly reminded you the last few days. It still sapped your energy though, stupid spell. You closed your eyes thinking that maybe it was better that the spell didn’t work. You’d never live down the embarrassment if anyone found out you tried to use a comfort spell.

Lucifer calls the others asking if anyone has seen you, after several days of radio silence from you. Solomon, Luke, and Simeon rush to the house of Lamentation once they hear you haven’t been seen for days. They find Lucifer and the brothers crowded around you, worriedly discussing the spell which has covered you and your room in vines. Babratos and Diavolo are already there, both looking guilty. Solomon feels his stomach drop when he recognizes the page from the spellbook.

“Lucifer, I recognize that spell, I gave it to them when-” Solomon begins

“Yes, it figures you would have your hands in this Solomon.” Lucifer glares.

It’s Simeon who steps forward to undo the spell, giving Luke’s shoulder a comforting squeeze on his way by. “Lucifer if you would,” he says gesturing to your form “this will take both our magics to undo, I believe.”

Solomon:

Shit, shit! Solomon recognizes that spell! He gave it to you.

It wasn’t supposed to do this, it was just a simple comfort spell!

But he can’t help feeling responsible for what's happened.

He feels like he should have known, should have realized something was going on when he gave you that spell.

You’d just wanted to talk, but he was so caught up in trying to find a way to make pacts with the brothers that he totally brushed you off.

He handed you a page out of a spellbook instead. And told you to deal with things yourself.

Solomon is crushed. He has always told you that if you ever need to talk to another human, he’d be there. But he wasn’t. He told you to deal with it alone.

When Simeon and Lucifer break the spell he is by your side in an instant.

Hands fluttering over your body, brushing withering plants off you. Feeling utterly useless.

The spell had gotten so convoluted and twisted in ways he’d never seen before, he hadn’t even been able to break it.

You blink your eyes open, Solomon’s distraught face coming into focus.

“Mc, I shouldn’t have given you that spell. I’m so sorry. I-I said I’d always help you if you needed me but all I did was hurt you instead.”

He wants to distance himself from you. But he knows that won’t make you feel any better. It won’t make him feel better either.

Instead, he’ll be far more careful with the magic he gives you. He’ll start teaching you more magic, so you can practice spells safely.

But he’ll also do his best to make sure you never need a comfort spell again.

He wants to be your comfort.

Solomon will plan elaborate outings and magic filled dates. He gets all these grand ideas and half of them turn into disasters but somehow he’ll make sure the two of you still have fun.

It’s easy for Solomon to forget that he needs to communicate better. But he’s trying. Instead of snapping at you again he’ll be sure to set aside time for himself. Besides, being in the Devildom is more fun with an apprentice anyways, plus teaching you magic gives him plenty of time to make sure you are happy too.

Simeon:

Simeon is shocked when he sees you.

A shiver runs down his spine when he feels the spell sucking the energy from your body.

His eyes don’t miss the botched comfort spell on the ground and he wonders why you didn’t come to him.

And then he realizes. You did. But he brushed you off to help Luke and even when you were hurting you didn’t want to burden him.

He feels like he’s failed you by making you feel like you couldn’t come to him.

When you open your eyes Simeon is the first thing you see.

He gently brushes the plants from your face and hair.

“Oh my sweet little lamb, you are never a burden to me. I am so sorry I made you feel you couldn’t come to me.”

Simeon brings you to Purgatory hall while your room is cleaned.

He gently untangles bits of plant matter from your hair, humming what must be some Celestial lullaby to you.

“Mc,” he begins once he’s removed the remaining plants from your hair and skin, and you’ve allowed yourself to relax into him. “Forgive me, Mc. I should have seen how much you were hurting.”

He is being so gentle with you. But his voice takes a stern edge as he tells you “Next time you feel like this, promise me you will come to me. If you tell me what’s going on I will always have time for you.”

Simeon makes sure to check in on you now, to make time for you. He’ll invite you to Purgatory hall for dinners and/or sleepovers. Oftentimes Luke joins you. But sometimes he’ll sneak you in so the sleepover is your little secret.

Diavolo:

Oh, Mc! He hasn’t seen a spell like this in centuries.

He knows it’s a mistake, but the power it must have taken to cast this spell is impressive.

He’s curious to know what kind of power you’ll have after you’ve been trained properly.

That not to say he isn’t concerned, it's just he knows the spell can be undone, and he finds it easier to deal with the situation if he doesn’t think about how close he came to losing you.

He’ll request that the brothers keep a closer eye on you, not that they weren’t going to anyway.

Diavolo will scoop you from the tangled vines, brushing the remaining vines from your skin as he carries you from your room.

He sits down on his throne, with you still held in his arms. For a moment you're afraid of his thunderous expression.

And then his eyes soften. “Mc,” he whispers. Emotion making his throat tighten, choking off his voice. “Why?”

“Why don’t you find a human who can do better than me Diavolo? You said so yourself, I’m a disappointment.”

“Mc, I didn’t mean! I didn’t want you to-! I didn’t”

He knows what he said. But he never meant for you to take it to heart like this. He was just stressed and he took it out on you.

“I’m sorry, Mc. I shouldn’t have taken my anger out on you. You haven’t disappointed me. I’m sorry I made you feel like you can’t rely on me. Please understand that I would do anything in my power for you.”

A frightening promise from the prince of the Devildom.

Diavolo is careful to control himself in the future. To prevent himself from letting his stress and anger get the better of him.

Careful to remind you how important you are to him, and not just because you are an exchange student, but because he cares for you.

Barbatos:

Anger. Fear. Barbatos tumbles between the two emotions.

It seems that by placing you in this timeline to protect you from Belphagor’s anger he has put you in a new kind of danger. One he didn’t see coming.

This makes him question his decision not to look into the future more than necessary.

Humans are so fragile. And this is just more proof of that fact.

Barbatos is by your side the moment you wake up.

He is lifting you to your feet and guiding you from your room.

Barbatos is a perfect gentleman as he helps you clean up. Helping you scrub the plants from your skin, wrapping you in the softest blankets.

But he remains silent the whole time.

Once you are safely tucked into bed Barbatos speaks. “Mc, I know I have made you feel useless. I should not have taken my anger out on you. I should have known better.”

For a moment you think he’s going to leave, that that’s all he is going to say.

But then he asks if he can stay with you. If the answer is yes, he’ll curl around you in your bed. Holding you to him as if you are likely to disappear.

It has been a long time since Barbatos has had something or someone he has been afraid to lose. “I’m sorry Mc. Please know you can come to me, even if I may be upset. I’d rather you make me face my shortcomings then lose you.”

Barbatos starts having you over for tea more often. He’ll take you on errands with him, if he thinks you’d find them at all interesting.

Mostly he just wants more excuses to spend time with you.

This made him realize how important you are to him and he’ll make sure you know it.

Luke:

Scared little sibling vibes.

Luke is so scared to see you like this!

You are so still and pale that he thinks you might be dead.

When you open your eyes he is so relieved.

Please don’t scare him like this again!

He’s got tears in his eyes, and he half yells half cries at you “Mc! You- you can’t just do something like this. What if- if you had died? I know these demons-” he shoots a watery glare at the demons “can make you feel sad but you’re my friend.”

He’ll ask you to stay at Purgatory hall for a while. He 100% thinks this is all the brother’s fault.

In fact he wants you to move into Purgatory hall permanently and he is so insistent that Diavolo might just let you if that's what you want.

He’ll make sure you know that he sees you as a big sibling, a friend that he could never replace “so please don’t think nobody cares Mc. I know we’re not really related but you’re like a sibling to me.”

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introloves · 3 years

Text

@virgoamajiki: hhnngggg no thoughts just boxer!bokuto fucking you senseless after seeing the other boxer he was supposed to fight that night flirting w/ u just to rile him up and throw him off his game.

— soft dom! bokuto + boxer! bokuto + mentions of harassment in the beginning + overstimulation / dumbification + size kink + comfort + praise + breath play + squirting + fluffy end + bokuto calls reader ‘puppy’ + f! reader

— word count; approx 2.6k

— part of my boxerverse! bokuto: one shot no. 1

he can’t blink back the images of you during the fight. the near deafening roars of his name all fadded into nothingness as he stalked towards his opponent- bokuto was dead set on putting him down.

the prick had really managed to get under his skin at the weigh in, picking you out- pointing directly at you and asking why you didn’t hop on over, he said you’d be better taken care of.

you’d sat there, wide eyed, clearly scared and taken back by his words. you only spared him a glance. instead turning with wide eyes at your boyfriend, now scared for the other man. frantic eyes shot up to look for his own- it was clear what you wanted, you looked scared and your face held a look that said;

“bo, please don’t.”

and usually, that look would disarm him completely- but not now- not now when he can see the way your eyes watered and lips trembled at the words.

he is sorry for not looking at you right away, sorry for not giving you the comfort you need-

but he’s not sorry for lunging over to the other side, barreling straight past staff that looked minuscule compared to his towering form. microphones clashing onto the floor with clear intent.

it’s complete chaos, bokutos manager grabbing him, holding him back down onto the seat, hissing in his ear that he’ll have a chance to go at him, “in the ring.”

you sit, dazed by the clamor and rapid snapping of cameras that bathe the two of you like a shower of pure light.

but he sits back down, hand clamped over your thigh, squeezing you, using your body as a stress ball. he can’t even look at his opponent, amber eyes focused on nothing more than your trembling knee- koutarou truly thinks he might kill him.

when he finally enters the ring, it doesn’t take long for the bastard to get dropped. its almost comical how short the match ends— usually bokuto would have put a little more show into it, letting him take a couple of hits before handling it, dragging it out to fluff his ego, showing everyone that he was the king, but not now.

as soon as his opponent is down, spread out on the white canvas- he steps once towards the body— pushed away by the referee in panic with the way he looms over him a little longer than necessary. the referee looking over at his teams side, shoving him back into his corner before calling the end of the match.

he lets his body get shoved into his corner, scoffing at the way the man lays there... pathetic.

bokuto doesnt even react to the roars of the crowd- walks past his team and into the locker rooms.

it feels like it takes forever to get back to you, normally you’d be at the ringside, but for this round he didn’t want you there and you not being able to do that, especially for a fight like this has you on edge. waiting for your koutarou to come home. the tension is almost suffocating when you finally hear the door slam closed.

you know hes not mad at you, thats not who the shake of the house is directed at. bokuto has always been a gentle giant with you— an overexcited, loving, and sweet giant.

he walks straight into the room, tugging off his shirt, shorts, leaving a trail of clothes as he makes a beeline right to you. there’s a deep want, need to have you, it feels like someone’s pressing down onto his chest- a tight ball of... anger and fear swirling around there.

it softens when he see’s you though, cuddled up on the bed, eyes lidded as you smile at him, welcoming him home. when he touches you, your body still warm from an almost sleep, he feels the sharp edges of anger melt away. there was no need for him to angry or scared at the words his opponent had thrown your way- he wasn’t the one about to fuck you to sleep... but the small tingle of fear and anger didn’t leave him completely.

“baby.” you murmur, hands outstretched to bring him into your space, the big body of his instantly melting down to your form, elbows perched on either side of your head- trapping you completely in.

“saw you drop him... first round.” voice heavy with lust and want, he was so strong and powerful and all yours. legs drop down onto the bed to let him in, ready for him, waiting for him.

“yeah, had to.” bokuto responds back, whispering it against your lips before he kisses you, licking into your mouth with heavy strokes of his tongue, all but tracing his name onto the front of your teeth.

“he scared you didnt he?” he growls, hissing at the way your heat wiggles to find his cock. bokuto shifts to hold the weight of his upper body on just one arm, slipping a hand down to tug your bottoms off.

“mhm.” you whimper back, gripping onto his shoulders, body jerking with every pull.

“did you see how i took care of him, pretty thing?” kou spits, pulse quickening at the wetness that meets his knuckle, trailing the back of his hand up your cunt before slipping a finger against your folds, splitting them open to briefly glance at your exposed pussy.

“fuck- course you did, thats why you’re so wet, huh?”

you cant really say anything, because he was right- seeing him knock that man out with one punch, straight to the jaw, sent heat flooding through your veins, proof of it formed in the shape of pure slick painting the outside of your cunt, between your thighs, pooling in your bottoms. its kinda silly, he knows what he does to you, knows you love watching him in his element, eyes hardened and face laxed in total concentration and an air of cockiness to him when he steps in the ring. he knows you love it, cause you’re always drooling into your panties when he comes to you after a match.

“real wet.” he marvels once more, sinking a finger all the way down to the knuckle and all you can do in response is open your legs wider, tilting yourself up to show him how ready and receptive you were for him.

“good girl.” his voice is tight and low- something like a growl with the way you move against his one finger. its enough to snap the string of self restraint he had, pure unbridled energy bouncing off him as he departs from you- just for a second, to kiss you harshly.

its a mix of tongue, spit, and teeth- strings of your passion still hanging from between the two as he leans back to look at your form, wiggling around in need of him.

its okay, he thinks, he’ll give you what you want.

and he does, doesn’t take long for him to grab the base of his thick and heavy cock, letting it slap against your cunt a couple times before squeezing the head of him inside- nice and snug. it makes him lightheaded, he cant think of anything but you- a fever crawls up his sculpted back, a need to just sink in and fuck you silly, but he wants something from you first.

“who do you belong to puppy?” he inquires gruffly, not moving an inch, watching the way you blink up at him through tears.

“w-what?” its sudden, your sweet and kind bo almost never talked like this in bed, it makes you salivate, a heat flushing down your back.

“c’mon- tell me who you belong to.” he hisses once more, splaying one of his big, strong, veiny hands across your chest, pushing down- locking you against the bed.

he still hasn’t moved, and the fluttering of your pussy down on the head of his dick makes him grunt- muscled stomach tensing with each one. he comes back to you- a little softer in the way his words sound, carrying that sweetness you know and love.

“please, tell me you’re mine.” he whispers, moving the hand that had you pinned down up towards your neck, rough callouses rubbing against the soft and sensitive skin there.

its a juxtaposition of kind, vulnerable words mixing in with the harsher movements of his strong hand curling against your airway, frantic in the need to hear it from you.

you know what he needs, and you’re more than happy to comply, wanting nothing more than to make him feel better. your hand moves up to wrap around his wrist, pulling him in close, eyes burning with hot tears forming there at the lack of blood- but you continue, till the next words are all but hissed, high and tight.

“yours, i’m all yours koutarou, my king.”

there isn’t anything he could have done to prepare for that, he stutters, chokes on the lust heavy in his chest, he feels like there’s molten want dripping down his veins- swirling into a tight ball at the pit of his stomach.

all he can do is rear back, hips lifting off you, popping the head of him out and you nearly whine, nearly ask him whats wrong before he slams down in one hard and desperate stroke, catching the skin of your cunt harshly, but its okay- there would have been no way you’d survive in a relationship with him if you didn’t like a little pain.

when his hips make contact with your cunt, puffy lips giving him cushion- he grinds down, smashing your clit down against his pubes.

eyes shut tight, a choked sob tumbling from your lips in response, head teetering back onto the bed.

“koutarou! fuck! fuck!” words high and staccato-ed are echoed out into the room, he feeds off the broken syllables of his name tumbling from your lips.

he looks at you while he squeezes his fingers against the thrum of your quickened pulse underneath his hand- watching your eyes roll back, the whites of them on clear display as lips part, a silent scream painted onto the moments of your face-

the bed groans, creaks with each crushing thrust he gives you, drilling you down into the bed.

“keep saying my name puppy, keep saying it.” he grunts looking at you with a feverish and concentrated gaze, affected in how well you stroke his ego, chest feeling incredibly full, the prickle of his orgasm starts, but there was /no/ way he’d come before his baby.

the hand that wasn’t wrapped around your throat sweeps down your arching body until his thumb finds your twitching clit- immediately pressing down on it with enough force that his thumb turns white. it rips a scream straight from the center of your chest and your body starts seizing up.

he huffs out a laugh when he sees the way your hips cant up off the bedding- it nearly pushes him back, but he stays unwavering, following the movement of your spasming body.

“koutarou!” his name leaves your mouth in the form of a wail while he batters your cunt, you don’t even know you’re moving the way you are- hands falling to rest pitifully against your head.

“ah- that’s my girl.” bokuto beams, seeing the splash of your cum arch all the way up to hit his tummy- abs glistening with every contraction as his hips drill into you- he gives in, taking the thumb that had been squeezing your clit down onto your body and sticking it into his mouth, watching you with lidded eyes as he licks the cum off his hand, all while keeping your neck pinned down and chasing the frantic movements of your hips.

there’s no immediate reaction from you when he picks up your legs- weak with the strain you’ve put them under, and folds them up to your chest.

the only thing you do is intake a lungful of air, dazed eyes looking up at him- not knowing how he got so close to your face.

it’s the first slap of his heavy balls against your ass that makes you come back from it all-

“p-please!!” you cry, eyes wide. the force of him still pistoning into you makes your body bounce off the shaking bed, and thanks to the squirting orgasm he fucked out of you with his thick cock- building a near searing sensitivity into the walls of your cunt and clit, you cum once more. it’s the final break into a headspace that has you twitch and flail your legs, wiggling against the hold of his arms.

“yeah- good girl.” bokuto grits out, a bead of sweat drips off his face onto your own, and thankfully- it’s what he needs to cum. his eyes are frantic as he watches you- swollen lips, face turned relaxed as you squeeze down around him, looking like the image of fucked stupid.

with the a final resounding smack of his hips into you, his cock jumps, swelling, growing snug inside you before he dumps an almost obscene amount of cum into you.

small twitches of your body lets him know you feel it, his head falls down to land against your chest, keeping you folded as he grits his teeth.

it takes rapid, hard blinks of his eyes to not let tears fall down onto his face. he’s shaky as he finally sits back up, making sure to bring your thighs down gently.

“kou-“ you choke out, looking for him-

he responds by finding your limp hands, still lying up by your head- slotting thick fingers and broad hands into your own.

“‘m right here.” koutarou nearly wheezes out, still reeling from an orgasm that he can still feel.

“that felt good.” your voice is airy and sweet- pitchy and laced with love.

for the second time that night- he laughs, shaking his head while he slips his softened cock out of you.

he picks you up, scooping your trembling form into swollen muscles- keeping you nice and tight against a hard torso.

“you make me feel good.” he whispers into your hair, not caring about the trail of hot cum that leaks out of your fucked out cunt, trails of it running down his leg while he places you on his chest, laying the both of you down.

holding you tight like this, sweat mingling together, residue of cum and tears painting eachothers bodies- he knows there was nothing he should have ever been worried about.

he didn’t have to worry about protecting or loosing you- bodies intertwined, locked into one another proved that you took care of him, gentle hands tracing your name onto the skin of his chest.

“i’m all yours koutarou.” you whisper, nearly falling into the heaviness of sleep.

he once again blinks back the need to cry- he could take all the punches in the world, not even blink, but he was so weak for you.

“yeah... i’m all yours too.” his voice is tender, shaky with emotion, arms squeezing around you tight.

he really was.

#bokuto #bokuto koutarou #bokuto koutarou smut #bokuto smut #haikyuu smut #bokuto x reader smut #bokuto x reader #bokuto x y/n #bokuto x you #haikyuu x reader smut #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu x you #one shot #au #smut

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darkmulti · 3 years

Text

ruin you.

BTS

Series: Part 1 | Part 2 | Final Part

Pairings: Ex-boyfriend!Jungkook x Female!Reader

Genre: Smut & Angst

Word Count: 1.2K

CONTAINS DARK THEMES!

PLEASE READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!

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A/N: Wrote this because I’ve been craving for ex-bf! Jungkook. It’s not good so don’t expect too much.

Warning(s): Physical abuse, slapping, squirting/omorashi, toxic behaviour, toxic household, dacryphilia kink, sadist!Jungkook, choking, manipulation, rough sex, breeding, mentions of child abuse,

THIS FIC CONTAINS NON CONSENSUAL SEX! PLEASE READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!

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“P- please. I’ve ap- apologized, I- I have nothing more to give you. Please st- stop.”Jungkook ignored you and thrusted harder, earning another whimper from you. “I- I can give you all the money in my savings account but that’s really all I have. O- only a few hundred.” You sobbed, kicking your legs frantically but Jungkook wouldn’t budge. “Please, Jungkook! That’s all the money I have left! I don’t have anything else! I swear on my life. I don’t! Please!” The tears weren’t stopping any time soon. You were pinned down by him, unable to fight him off.

Jungkook was your ex-boyfriend. You both began dating in your first year of university and broke up in your third year. Your parents had no idea about your relationship with Jungkook. When they caught you, they weren’t thrilled about it. Your parents had already set you up for an arranged marriage, therefore dating was forbidden. Since you lived under their roof, you have to obey them. Your mother had told you that when you move out, you can start making decisions for yourself. Unfortunately, you didn’t have enough money to move out. Your mother refused to sign over your government money and you weren’t allowed to get a job. Alternatively, your parents set you up to fail. You wouldn't be able to escape the arranged marriage.

You messaged Jungkook to come over to your house. You were in your room, crying while packing all his hoodies and t-shirts he lent to you. On the other hand, Jungkook was overjoyed. He’d been to your house a total of three times in your three-year relationship. Jungkook knew that you had been keeping your relationship with him a secret from your parents, but for god sake, it's been three years! He thought you were finally going to introduce him to them, but when he arrived at your house he got the complete opposite. You were sitting on the front porch, crying. Jungkook immediately rushed to your side and engulfed you in a hug. “What’s wrong, baby? Did someone hurt you? Was it your parents? Please stop crying. I hate seeing you cry.”

“T- they want me to break up with you, Jungkook.” You sobbed into his neck, pouring your heart out on him. “What? Why? They haven’t even met me. Maybe if I meet them-”

“No, Jungkook. N- nothing’s going to work. I can never win against t- them.” You interrupt, wiping your tears away. “Here’s your stuff. I folded all your clothes nicely. It’s the least I can do.” You lifted the box and placed it on Jungkook’s lap. “You’re giving up on us that easily? You’re gonna throw our three-year relationship in the trash without even trying to save it? Did those three years mean nothing to you?”

“Please, Jungkook. Don't make this harder than it already is. Our relationship means the world to me, but you're asking me to choose between you or my parents.”

“Yeah, your parents who’ve abused you all your life and manipulated you into thinking that everything you do isn't good enough. If something doesn’t go right, they’ve trained you to believe it’s your fault. They have you wrapped around their finger and you don’t even know it.” Suddenly his panic turned into anger. “I know you’re upset, but I can’t argue with them. If I leave, my dad’s business will fall apart. They’ll kick me out and I’ll be homeless.” Jungkook looked at you with a spark of hope in his eyes. “That’s what you’re worried about? Being homeless? You have me, baby. If they kick you out, come straight to me and I’ll gladly take you in. Even now, you don’t have to stay here with them, just move in with me. I’ll take care of you.” You smile at his kind offer. “I can’t accept that. I don’t want to be a burden.”

Jungkook cupped your cheeks. “You’re not a burden, Y/N. Don’t ever say something that ridiculous again. I can see my whole future with you. I could never imagine it with someone else. Please, come stay with me.”

His past words would always come around mocking you again and again. To be honest, you’d do just about anything to go back in the past and accept his offer. Maybe, you would’ve had the greatest life with Jungkook if you had just said yes. Now you’re under him, offering up everything you own just to make him stop.

Jungkook laughed to himself. Seeing you being so vulnerable turned him on even more. He made it his goal to make your life a living hell after your rejection. You were now homeless, kicked out of university and fired from your job because of him. He ruined your whole life and still wants more.

“Jungkook, please! I can’t anymore! It hurts!” You cried, trying to get up but failed because his body weight was holding you down. “Please get off me! I can’t breathe, Jungkook!” You instinctively started fighting back with the little energy you had left in your body. Since you were thrashing around, Jungkook found it harder to fuck you. Without hesitation, he slapped you across the face as hard as he could which caught you off guard. He grabbed your wrist and squeezed it until he was sure it was fractured. After injuring you, you started to quiet down because you were in so much pain. All you could do is cry.

“This is what you deserve for leaving me. You did this to yourself.” He growled, slapping you once again. Hearing his words made your heart sink. It sounded like something your parents would say. Jungkook knew all about your dysfunctional family life. He knew you were very sensitive about it which is why he used it against you. It’s your biggest weakness. You uncontrollably sobbed a little louder when he said that. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Please, I’m so sorry.” You whispered, covering your face with your hands.

Jungkook grabbed your throat and harshly slapped you. “Keep your mouth shut. I don’t want your worthless apologies.” He flipped you onto your stomach and spanked your ass. You were so weak, your head was pounding and your eyes were burning from all the crying, you ended up submitting to him. Allowing him to use your body however he liked. You were on the verge of passing out when he picked you up and began fucking you as hard as possible. You held onto his broad shoulders for dear life. All of sudden, you had a strong urge to pee. You softly managed to say, “J-jungkook… pee.” The man heard you but didn’t care to stop. “B- bathroom… Stop. I ha- ah!”

“Let it out, now.” Jungkook pushed you up against the wall, sliding his cock deep inside your cunt, waiting for you to squirt. “I can’t. I- I don’t want to.” Jungkook rolled his eyes and began rubbing your clit. “No! I can’t hold it!” Your walls throbbed around Jungkook before you released your urine, creating a puddle on the floor. Jungkook pushed his tip deep inside your cunt and came.

You physically could not handle it and ended up passing out in his arms. Jungkook immediately let go of you, causing you to hit the ground. He put his clothes back on but before he left, he observed your state. Your hair was wet from all the sweat and tears. Tear stains on your cheeks. Hickeys covered your neck, collarbone and jawline. Both of your wrists were swollen as well as your lips. His cum was leaking down your thighs.

He completely ruined you.

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I apologize for any mistakes!

I hope you enjoyed!

xoxo,

naina

#jungkook smut #bts smut #jeon jungkook smut #non con #bts yandere #yandere bts smut #yandere bts #bts yandere reaction #jungkook yandere #yandere jungkook

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astaroth1357 · 3 years

Text

Demigod MC Series: Poseidon

Fishy fishy fishy… I honestly could write 100 more things for Poseidon MC and Levi. I just love the dynamic between an insecure, otaku shut-in and a chill California surfer dead set on becoming his friend.

Demigod MC Series: Intro, Aphrodite, Hermes, Hades, Dionysus, Demeter, Athena, Hades Pt. 2, Poseidon

For anyone unaware, Poseidon is also the god of horses. I know it's a weird combo, but I didn't write the mythos.

Lucifer

…..

They came out of the portal….

On a horse….

They brought the mortal down to the Devildom…

On a goddamn horse….

There's a demigod on a live horse brandishing a weapon and doing laps around the Student Council Room…

Congratulations, he already wants to pull his hair out!!

Honestly, it would have been preferable to pluck them out of the sea. At least then they'd just need a towel! What the hell were they going to do with an entire horse!?

And his nightmare didn't stop there. Poseidon is a notoriously mercurial god, prone to bouts of anger and spitefulness for reasons far less grievous than kidnapping his children…

Their apology was swift and (seemingly) effective, though the tide waters around the Devildom did rise by several feet for some time…

As for the MC… uh… Well, they're an energetic one to say the least…

Lucifer hasn't met a more active individual since Mammon. They horseback ride, swim, surf, skateboard, and probably do ten other things - the point is, they Hardly. Keep. Still!

They're also annoyingly easygoing… He can't count the number of times they've told him to, "Just chill out," or, "Hang loose…" What does that even mean??

Between having to order a stable made for their horse and just trying to keep up with them, Lucifer already thinks this mortal has caused him more trouble than they're worth… At least they keep Mammon busy...

Mammon

Upon first meeting them atop their horse, Sunset, his first thought was of course:

"I wonder if I sell that...?"

After that, they nearly fed him to sharks for trying to take their beloved steed on same night. Safe to say, he never touched a hair on its head again…

These two had a rocky start, but their relationship mended fairly quickly. As it turns out, the MC is literally one of those "go with the flow" types. You can say it was water under the bridge soon enough.

Mammon actually thinks the MC is a hell of a lot of fun, even if they're super laid-back. Most of the time, they won’t take his drive for money (or fear of his bills) all that seriously and tell him that he’s worrying too much, but they’ll still lend a hand if its on their way.

He finds their ability to control water pretty cool as well. Levi has it to some extent, but the MC can make a whole-ass whirlpool or use water like a whip!

He once begged them to call up some rare fish for him to sell, but they got all pseudo-philosophical on him about how “trading life for material wealth” is “not cool, dude...”

He also made the mistake of challenging them to a splash fight only once…. They managed to drench the whole family with a single wave….

The only thing that bothers him is their weird insistence on being Levi's "Best Buddy…" Why would someone like them even bother with a shut in??

Is it the water? … Probably water. Levi, that lucky bastard…

Leviathan

Thinks they're a big normie, no scratch that, a HUGE normie! The biggest normie he's ever met!! They skateboard and horseback ride for Devil's sake!!

...But they’re also, undoubtedly, the best friend he could've ever asked for.

To be fair to Levi, their friendship was sort of forced upon him. The MC took one look at him, his aquatic-themed room, and his pet goldfish then declared their new friendship status at that moment.

Unfortunately for him, though, they're energetic, extroverted, and generally have little understanding of personal space… aka, an introvert's worst nightmare…

The next month could accurately be described as the MC doing everything in their power to make their stubborn "senpai" like them.

They would drag him out to the aquarium, beach, or pool; they befriended Henry so he could put in a good word for them; and they'd even bring him little gifts or trinkets they'd find on the ocean floor. Pretty shells and stuff like a cat bringing its master a dead mouse.

After he finally began to accept them as a persistent fixture in his life, he introduced them to gaming and anime and started accepting them little by little...

By the end of their stay, these two were practically inseparable. Not just because they like spending time together, but because they figured out they could have a telepathic link due to Levi being part sea serpent.

No matter how far they are, they can always have a chat! (That no one else can hear so people think they’re just crazy...)

Satan

Satan honestly isn't the MC's biggest fan, he generally finds them too loud and gregarious for his liking. But their horse…?

He never really thought that he'd be a horse man... Yet it didn’t really take long for Satan to adore Sunset, their beautiful golden-maned mare. Apparently she's not their only horse, but by far their favorite traveling companion.

Sunset is a wonderful horse - brave, strong, and well-trained. It only took a few weeks before he was regularly sneaking out to the stables to brush her fur or feed her apples...

After the MC taught him how to ride, that was it. All other forms of transportation were inferior to him now.

Satan would ride Sunset everywhere and he looked damn good doing it! It takes all that fairytale Prince Charming thing he has going on and puts it through the roof.

It's a good thing too, because when I say everywhere, I do mean everywhere. Lucifer had to put seals on the House doors to keep Satan from riding Sunset through the hallways...

Of course, he’ll always let the MC have Sunset back when they need her!... with a little complaining but nothing terrible.

The MC doesn't mind much because Sunset likes him and they know he takes good care of her, but the rest of the House is slightly unnerved at how quickly he went horse crazy… What if they brought a giant crab instead?? No one wants to deal with crab-Satan...

Asmodeus

Their body is just scrumptious. Oh, how he could look at their swimsuit-clad figure all day!! 😩

Between the swimming and the fighting, their form is toned to all hell and he can't get enough of it! Yes baby, yes!! Take those clothes off again!!! He'll help~! 😘

When he's not staring at them “totally respectfully,” then he's inviting them out to pool parties or begging them to take him riding...

There are parts of horseback riding he doesn’t like, the smell and the jostling specifically, but there is a kind of… romance to it, no?

He loves having the chance to snuggle up to the MC as they trot around the Devildom! It's so romantic, like they’re his knight in shining armor! (Or his demigod in a damp swimsuit, either works. 😏)

His Devilgram is just full of selfies of him and MC riding on the back of Sunset or sitting by the edge of the pool or them in the middle of a swim meet…

Yeah his Devilgram is now a one part him and one part MC-Appreciation account.

After the pact he'll eventually cool down some and stop staring at them like a sex-object, but even then he'll be at every swim meet. Don't you worry~

Beelzebub

He actually really likes them! It's great to finally have another athlete in the House. 😊

The MC joined the RAD swim team just as soon the coach was able to convince Diavolo that having the child of a water god wasn't completely cheating...

Since swim and fangol practice ends at about the same time, they walk home together a lot and complain about... sports things... (Forgive me, I don’t know sports. Uhm... Rival teams? Coaches? That one drill everyone hates? Stuff like that.)

Beel also can surf, skate, and snowboard so the two have a healthy competition going. They're about on equal footing so they tie often (except in surfing but Beel doesn't think that should count cause they’re probably cheating).

The only thing that he has to watch out for is Sunset… As in, he has to watch himself around Sunset because he absolutely could eat her on accident…

Look, he doesn't want to and he doesn't even like horse meat that much, but even he has to admit there are times he gets hungry enough to consider it…

Of course, he knows that if he ever did Satan would rip him limb from limb then the MC would drown the rest so he really, really tries to control himself… but still… She’s a very healthy horse...

At least he didn’t try to sell her like Mammon. The MC hung him over a shark tank for that stunt… He’d feel bad, but Mammon kind of had it coming.

Belphegor

The first time they met, the MC smelled like beach water and called him "dude-bro…" He didn't like his prospects.

For a while, he genuinely thought that they had a lump of sand where their brain was. They were just too chill!! Here he was saying that he's being held captive and they were like, "Well that sucks, man… I'll help ya, but I've got practice tomorrow. You can wait, right?"

It's not like he expected them to jump on top of it, but some urgency would have been nice…

When they eventually got around to helping him, he was actually looking forward to choking the life out of them for the extra wait. Unfortunately, they apparently had a horse…

Yeah, Belphie found out just a bit too late that the MC could summon their steed to them whenever they wanted and ended up with Sunset's hooves firmly bucking into his back for his trouble…

What followed was Belphegor running circles around the attic from the weapon-totting MC riding their terrifying murder horse until Lucifer finally intervened....

Thank the gods he wasn’t near any water….

As it would turn out later, as long as he's not being held captive in an attic Belphie kind of vibes with their laid-backness… They say they approach life "one wave at a time" or something.

He could care less about what that actually means, but what it translates to is "Stop stressing out and just keep chill" which he's all about.

Everybody should just chill out!... dude…. Nah, he'll let them stick to the “dude”-thing, it feels weird...

#obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me headcanons #obey me demigods

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recklessmark · 3 years

Text

mine

—when the bodyguard your dad hired is your long lost rival.

Pairings: bodyguard Mark x mob-boss Reader

Words: 2.4k

Warnings: unprotected sex (be safe!), dirty talk, rough sex, oral sex, spanking, slut shamming, orgasm denial, mark is possessive but cute at the end.

The sounds of your heels clicking against the ground filled up the silent patio. You stormed into your house after receiving a text from your dad, basically demonstrated that he had sent you a new bodyguard since your job had been getting more intense lately. This should be the umpteenth guard that your dad hired, how are they supposed to protect you when every time you get into trouble, they can’t even take care of themselves.

You locked the door, kicking your shoes off before walking inside. Noticing a figure of a man sitting on the couch, you frowned. One hand holding the gun holster, the other finding the light switch. But they immediately fell onto your mouth when the man in question himself turned around due to the sudden light in the room. Your eyes went widen, still not believed in what you saw. He stood up, a coy smirk displayed on his face as he slowly approached you.

“You miss me?”

You looked him up and down, confirming that you were not dreaming, “M-Mark Lee? You’re alive?”

Your back is against the wall as Mark pressed his body on you, your faces were an inch away from each other. You’re babbling, dying to know how it’s possible for your long lost rival, Mark Lee, revitalized from his death and now standing in your house. Mark had been on the back of your head since the day you heard the news of his death from a combat. Apparently you’re supposed to hate him but that period of time was the darkest of your life, you practically couldn’t live without him.

He leaned in, his nose was brushing yours, “If I knew my appearance can earn that reaction from you, I would accept the job offer sooner.”

You tensed under his muscular body, his face plastered with arrogance. You squinted your eyes at him, “So you’re the body guard that my dad hired?”

Mark nodded, “Didn’t know that my death make your career path a lot easier. You’re the boss now huh?”

You pushed him away, you needed to go since you’re melting into his touch and that’s definitely not a good sign. You fixed your clothes before walking away.

“You can sleep on the couch or in the room next to the balcony. We’re going to the estate tomorrow.”, you called behind your back, “And don’t even think about breaking into my room at midnight.”.

You remembered that time you saw Mark sitting in front of your house with blood everywhere. You did let him stay at your place since he was terribly injured with two bullets in his shoulder and a gash on his ribs. He was super lucky to magically survive after that much damage, and you thought you could be a surgeon that you were phenomenally able to save him with some basic medical skills. Mark stayed with you for two weeks and literally broke into your room every night despite of your death threats and the locks on your door that you only bought because of him. You pathetically had no sleep at that time, how were you supposed to sleep peacefully when your hot enemy was pressing his chest against your back. You sighed, Mark Lee is the first bodyguard you didn’t kick out on the first day and the only bodyguard you let staying at your place.

—

You’re questioning yourself about the faith you put in Mark, your used-to-be enemy, that you actually allowed him to be your bodyguard and now you’re guiding him to your estate. What if he’s preparing for a terrorization?

“So why did you fake your death?”, you asked, only loud enough for him to hear clearly.

Mark glanced at you as he’s trying to find the perfect vocabulary for the situation, “The boss thought I’m a threat to the gang so they attempted to kill me many times, unsuccessfully though.”

“That you’ll murderer that coward and replace him? What in the mysterious novel is this?”, you laughed almost choked on your spit.

Everyone eyes landed on you and Mark when you stepped inside the building, the faint smile on your lips had soon faded away. They respectfully greeted you as you made your way to the office.

“What are you involved with?”

You heard him question when you’re in the elevator. Your fingers tapped on your lips,

“Pharmaceuticals”

“Drugs”

You darted your eyes at him as the word fell out of his mouth. “God, I’m trying to make it sound legal, no need to say it out loud like that.”, you gave him a warning look before continued talking.

“Automotive recovery and repair”

“Grand theft auto”

You’re not bothered to yell at Mark or whatsoever, as if he hadn’t done all that things.

“Defense trading”

“Selling illegal weapons”

You stopped a bit, looking at the number on the monitor screen of the elevator.

“And contract execution.”

The elevator was finally on the highest floor, which only has your office and the meeting room. You stopped at your track when you see a gap on your office door, you always remember to lock it up before going home, except it’s...

“Y/N!”

You almost passed out, you should’ve mentioned that you totally hate surprises. How do people find it’s funny when they scare the fuck out of somebody?

“Lee Haechan? When did you get here?”

You lost your balance when Haechan jumped on you for a hug, “Last night.”

You fumbled on your feet as the weight on you hardened your breathing. “God, do you always have to cling on me like that?”

His arms wrapped around your waist, he rested his head on the crook of your neck as he noticed the man that had been standing at the door frame.

“Who’s this? You better not cheat on me!”

You frowned, pushing Haechan away, “Cheat your ass! He’s my bodyguard.”, you turned around to look at Mark.

“Hey, you should go check the new people. If they mess up, I’ll kick your ass.”

You asked Haechan to leave before he continued making something up. You don’t know why he has a thing for pretending to be your boyfriend, sometimes cousin or even worse is step brother. He always knows how to get you into trouble and never take responsibility for that. You don’t know how come he’s your best friend and your assistant.

You locked the door after he already left, not care about Mark still froze at his space. You sat down, reorganized the stacks of papers on your desk.

“He’s your boyfriend?”

Your eyes flew up only for you to see that Mark was hovering over you, his hands pressed on the desk.

You looked back down, “Why would you care?”

He remained silent, you shrugged, unbothered by his question. Neither the two of you broke the silence first until you completed all the work, it’s already night time outside. You glanced at Mark, who’s sitting on the couch next to the window with his gaze focused on you. You flustered, wondering if he had been like that for 4 hours straight since you came to work after lunch.

“Let’s go.”

—

You’re walking to your car in the parking lot when someone familiar drew your attention.

“Jaehyun!”

You hollered while running towards the man. He caught you in his arms as you peck on his cheeks, which was not become unnoticed by Mark. He recognized the man, Mark had a few combats with him before.

You noticed the expression on Jaehyun’s face changed lightly when his gaze shifted. You knew what’s it about.

“He’s the bodyguard my dad hired, I’ll explain but I have to leave now okay?”

You gave him a small kiss on his lips before turning around, pulling Mark with you.

—

“Get out!”

Mark snarled when he finally pulled up in the garage. He walked out, leaving you confused in the car. Did he just yell at you? You gasped as the door beside you flung opened, he recklessly took off your seat belt before pulling you into the house.

“What the hell Mark?”

You asked when he pressed you against the door, still could not comprehend what’s happening.

“Shut up!”

He groaned into your ear, his head was on the crook of your neck, you squirmed as his hair tickled you.

“Have you done flirting with every man you meet? You want to be a slut so bad don’t you? You want Jung Jaehyun to fuck you right? And either whoever the man in your office was!”

Your body tensed under his, his breath hit your skin giving you some feelings. Both of your hands attempted to push Mark away by his shoulder but he didn’t move an inch. He left your neck to face you, his eyes gave you death stare.

“Mark take a fucking breath, okay?”, you muttered out. His eyes were still boring holes into you as you continued, “Haechan is my assistant and Jaehyun”, you stop, “I like him.”

“That jackass? That? Him?”

You frowned, “He’s not a jackass.”, you debated.

Mark grabbed you around the waist, “He doesn’t ever touch you again. Understand?” His tone was venomous. “You’re mine.”

You stood in silence as your brain functioning his words. His proximity to you was turning the heat in your veins from anger into something else.

“Oh yeah, Mark? I’m yours?”

“Mine.” His face was mere inches from yours.

You narrowed your eyes. “Fucking prove it, then, asshole.”

He tightened his grip around your waist and practically threw you onto the couch. You turned and tried to crawl away but he pulled you back down, forcefully, and slammed his hips into your ass. You could feel his erection straining against his trousers as he ground into you. You braced your hands on the couch as he kicked your legs apart and shoved your dress up around your waist.

“You want me to fucking prove it?”

He cupped your ass in his hands and squeezed hard before ripping off your lace panties and throwing them on the floor. One hand snaked around your waist to keep you from escaping while the other ran along your slit. Mark placed his finger in his mouth tasting you groaning lowly and then pulled it out with a pop. He kneeled down and ran his tongue along your slit before digging in. His tongue circling your clit before darting into your hole then going back. You moaned, your hands gripping the edge of the couch as you felt your orgasm fast approaching.

"M-Mark..." you whimpered as your legs started to shake. He groaned against you as he kept going, the vibrations making your mind go blank. "I-I-I'm... I'm go-gonna..."

He pulled away in a moment, leaving you undone. You whined, desperate to come. Instantly his hand came out and wrapped around the back of your neck pulling you close to him and smashing his lips into yours in a sloppy kiss, his tongue dominated yours as you can taste yourself on it. His other hand ran up your thigh until it reached your ass and he gripped a cheek roughly causing you to moan out.

“Do you think you deserve to cum? You acted like a slut so I treat you like one.”

He started to kiss and bite along your neck stopping every so often to leave some marks. You heard the metallic click as it was unfastened and then his zipper as he freed his cock. Then, in one motion, he slammed into your cunt.

“How about this, huh? Do you like my cock inside you?”

You gritted your teeth and nodded, Mark smacked your ass, hard. “Answer me, goddamnit. Do you like my cock inside you?”

“Yes,” you breathed.

“Say it.” He began a slow but punishing rhythm, pistoning into you as hard as he could. “Fucking say it, Y/N.”

“Yes–Mark....” He punctuated each of your words with a deep thrust. “I – like – your – cock – inside – me – ”

“You like it when I fuck you hard?” he growled as he began to speed up.

“Yes… yes… oh God, yes,” you moaned, giving yourself over to the pleasure.

“You filthy fucking slut… you like it when I fuck your pussy from behind like this?”

“Yes! Mark, yes!” you could feel your climax already approaching as Mark reached down to rub your swollen clit with his hips slamming into you nonstop.

“Are you mine, Y/N?” he roared.

“Yes, Mark, I’m yours!”

With that, your orgasm tore through you, your back arching as your body pulsed around him. You had barely come down from your high when leaned over, “You should be grateful that I let you cum. Turn around, dirty girl. I want your mouth.”

Mark pulled out of you and you turned around kneeling in front of him, still feeling boneless. He grasped your hair and you let your jaw drop open; he bucked his hips forward and you could taste yourself on his cock. You sucked him greedily as he thrust forward.

He groaned as he emptied himself into your mouth; you swallowed everything Mark gave you before slowly licking him clean. He fell flopped himself onto the couch, shaking from the force of his release, before wrapping his arm around your naked body.

For a few long minutes, the only sound was your labored breathing as you tried to recover.

“Do you actually like Jaehyun?”

Mark mumbled but loud enough for you to hear, his breath was still heavy.

You leaned in to rest your head on his shoulder, your legs curled up, pressing against your bare chest. “Yes, but I guess it doesn’t matter anymore.”

His hand brushed your hair comfortably, “Why?”

“Didn’t you just claim me like two minutes ago? You can’t change your mind.”, Mark couldn’t help but giggled, he pressed his chin on your head. “Since when you have feelings for me?”, you looked up only to see his sharp jawline, his signature scent filled up your nostrils.

“I don’t know dude, may be that time when you held a dull dagger on my throat or when you attempted to shoot me with no bullet loaded in the gun.”

You slapped his arm playfully, “That was an accident!”

The room went into silence again, your eyes stared into the city outside of the wall of windows.

“Do you know when I figured out my feelings?”

Mark traced your fingers with his thumb, waiting for your answer. “I kissed Jaehyun because it’s the last kiss, I thought you don’t care.”, you intertwined your hand with his, “But I know you’re my everything the moment you I saw you sitting here, that my long lost hot rival is alive.”

#nct mark #mark lee #mark blurbs #mark boyfriend #mark imagines #mark lee imagines #mark lee scenarios #mark lee smut #mark scenarios #mark smut #nct smut #nct u smut #nct x reader #nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct mark lee

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bubblegum---bitch · 3 years

Text

Stolas x reader: Breakup

Your phone has been ringing like crazy for half an hour, sooner or later they'll get the hint that you didn't want to talk to or see anyone.

It wasn't enough that you just came down from the first mental breakdown you've had in years, but now your fake ass friends were trying to talk to you, as if it would fix anything.

You should have seen it coming anyways. Anything so mind numbingly perfect and wonderful always turns out to be bullshit.

Stolas was suppose to be different. Yes he was married and a prince of hell, but you atleast thought he cared about you as much as he said he did.

All you ever wanted from anyone was honesty and trust, was that too much to ask for even in hell?

Moxxie and Millie were everything you ever wanted. Someone you can go to when things got rough, who would never betray or hurt you no matter what.

They had it all, so why was it so hard for you to have that too? Maybe you loved too hard, maybe you were too clingy or you were just not as satisfying as you though you were to him.

Maybe that's why he ran to Blitzø in the first place, because he had more to offer Stolas than you did.

Just thinking about how you caught them together made you cover your head with the blanket you were curled up in. You could still hear them in your head moaning and calling eachother's name while you stood outside Blitzø's office door.

You couldn't seem to move even when Moxxie and Millie walked into the room and saw you by the door totally paralyzed.

"Y/n honey what are you doing here? Blitz said you weren't coming today." Millie had asked innocently but soon realized what was going on right behind the door.

"How long has this been going on? Did you two know about..this?" You asked with hot tears rolling down your face.

"Y/n.. it's not what you think.. he.. they..we.. we didn't want you to find out like this hun."

"So you knew that they've been fucking eachother behind my back? That all this time I've been played for a complete fool while the rest of you said nothing?!!!" The anger inside you that had been dormant had boiled over and the only thing you could remember doing was kicking the door off of it's hinges.

And just as it sounded, your so called bestfriend and boyfriend were on the table top naked doing only Satan knows.

You're sure you cursed at all of them and almost killed someone, but you'll always remember the look of guilt and shame on each of their faces.

The ones you considered family and the love of your life had all stabbed you in your back and left their knives in while you bled out.

You couldn't stand being in the same room as them anymore so you ran. Ran through the pouring rain to the only place you felt safe anymore.

When you got home, you destroyed everything in sight and burned anything that was given to you from your former friends and lover and anything that remotely reminded you of them.

Thunder was rumbling in the sky now but you hardly noticed. It was nothing compared to the emptiness you were feeling now.

You suddenly heard loud banging from your front door. A voice was calling out your name but the rain drowned the noise out enough for you to ignore them.

Did they honestly expect you to get up and greet them? Were they that selfish that they couldn't leave you to die inside in peace?

"Y/n darling, I know you're in there please open up!"

That was definitely Stolas' voice.

"I need to explain it's not what you think! I mean, it was but I never wanted to hurt you like this."

"I know this is all my fault and I can't begin to apologize but I promise you I'll tell you anything you want to know. Please just say something. I can't loose you. Not like this." He slid down the door, he clutched his head in his hands.

The look of betrayal he saw on your face had broken his heart in ways even he couldn't understand. He loved you with every part of his being, but somehow he let himself be lost in the pleasure he and Blitzø have. He couldn't even remember when it all started but he knew that he wasn't doing it after all of this.

"I don't expect you to forgive me, but please understand that I never meant for this to happen." But it did, and now he was outside your door crying while you laid on your destroyed floor with no tears left to cry.

Hours had seemed to pass. The thunder had subsided but it was still raining and the room had become colder.

You found the strength to uncurl yourself from the floor and approach the front door. You knew he was still there, waiting for you.

"Do you love him?" You asked softly at the door.

"I.. I don't know. I wanted to figure it out but I never wanted to hurt you. But please know that I do love you Y/n, from the moment we met I've loved you, I'd do anything to fix this."

He actually sounded genuinely sad, for having been caught or the thought of losing you, you didn't know.

"Do you mean that?"

"Yes I'll do anything you wish."

"Then don't ever come back here. You broke my heart and this relationship is over. Whatever you feel or think you feel for Blitzø figure it out but don't you dare think I'll be here when you do. That is what I want, and I'm not accepting anything else."

"Please, don't do this we can fix this. I'll do anything else you want Y/n but I can't loose you!"

"STOP BEING SO FUCKING SELFISH STOLAS! You did this, you are the cause for all of this and this is what I want. If you claim to love me so much stay the fuck away from me. You and the rest of them at I.M.P can go fuck yourselves and I mean it. I am done with them and I'm done with you. So get the fuck away from my apartment and you better pray to Satan I don't kill you the next time I see you."

It was dead silent on the other side but you knew he was still there. He couldn't seem to speak after your outburst just now. Was he truly that selfish to not want you to go? Was it better for you to hate him but he'd still be able to keep you close?

He was use to having his cake and eat it too, so what you were asking of him was not only against his very nature as a prince, but as a man that loved you.

"If.. that is what you wish, I will grant it. I know I've made a mess of things, but I wouldn't stop trying to fix this, somehow I'll make things right Y/n I promise you." His voice was choked up now, he sounded like a wounded animal that was begging for help, but you didn't have the energy or motivation to comfort him.

"Goodbye Stolas."

You left him there and went into your room to escape his presence. He wasn't going to stop you knew that, but you were going to show him that you meant what you said.

There was no forgiveness for anyone to get and there was nothing that could change what happened. Not even Satan himself.

#stolas #helluvaboss #stolas x reader #breakup #Cheating #betrayl #Ep.6 is giving me motivation!!!

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merakiaes · 3 years

Text

Hate You, Hate You Not - Armitage Hux

Pairing: General Armitage Hux x reader

Requested: By anon.

Prompts: #1 & #58 from the fluff-list.

Warnings/notes: (SHOULD I MAKE A PART 2 WITH MORE ROMANCE IN IT?) This ended up being much longer than I planned so it's most likely very boring and dull😭 Might be a bit, if not a lot, out of character since this is kinda my test-run for Hux and Star Wars in general. Getting the characters mannerisms in might take some practice. Not proofread so I apologize in advance for any mistakes. This is the first time ever that I write for Star Wars and the first time in like 5-6 months that I’m writing in general so I’m a bit rusty. Please reblog and leave comments to keep my motivation going and let me know if you’d like to be added to a Star Wars taglist <3

Wordcount: 5632

Summary: One of Kylo Ren’s many tantrums results in your room being inhabitable for a night, which in turn results in you having to share a room - and bed - with the person you hate the most.

Everyone who had ever, at some point in their lives, worked alongside Kylo Ren in his quest to bring the Order to power, knew how much of a hassle and inconvenience his temper, or lack thereof, could be.

Not much was needed for him to lose his cool and it happened on a much too frequent basis than what was considered normal for a man in his early 30s, at least according to you.

Of course, however, you couldn’t actually tell him that, nor could you think it, with the risk of him probing your mind.

So every time he came back from a failed mission and completely obliterated your hard work, you could do nothing but bite your tongue, clear your head and repair the damages like you’d done oh, so many times before.

That’s what you got for being one of the highest-ranked engineers of the Order, you supposed.

But on this day you would’ve, for the first time in your life, very much preferred to repair the damages left behind by your tantrum-prone leader like you always did. Because if that punishment had to be compared to the one you were now facing, you would’ve chosen the former without even a shadow of a doubt.

But, unfortunately, that was not an option this time around, as the room that had fallen victim to the sizzling beam of Kylo Ren’s lightsaber was your bedroom.

Well, not originally, of course, but sparks had flown from the totaled control panels and a piece of supposedly fireproof metal scrap had caught on fire before you and the other engineers reached the room for a damage-control, starting of as a small flame and then proceeding to spread like wildfire as fire did, in ways completely unbeknownst to you as, like already mentioned, the place was supposed to be safe from fires.

The licking flames had managed to melt through several walls before you got to the scene, and one of those walls was the wall to your bedroom.

It was late when it happened, only fifteen minutes before you were supposed to end your shift, and as you were on the verge of having a mental fucking breakdown, you personally requested an audience with Kylo and were granted permission by him after a very carefully-worded explanation to start early in the morning.

But that only took care of one of your problems, and only temporarily at that. Now you were left with the issue of finding other sleeping accommodations since your room was currently not habitable. You had no choice but to ask for another room and, of course, Hux thought that to be the perfect time to crack a sarcastic joke about throwing you into one of the prisoner cells.

You had never, in all your years of being alive, glared so fiercely at another human being as you did then. And in your moment of anger, you accidentally let your walls down and let your thoughts run freely through your head – your annoyance directed at the General, but also at Kylo Ren, being exposed.

You felt it before you saw it – that little prickle in your head, that little sting of your mind being probed – and only a second later, Kylo Ren turned his masked head in your direction, walked up to you with patronizingly slow steps and spoke:

“I think you’ll find that General Hux’s quarters will suffice for the night, until repairs can be done to your own. He has more than enough space for both of you.”

He turned his head to look at the baffled man standing behind him, all of the attitude he had previously been harboring against you now completely melted away.

“Isn’t that right, General?” Kylo continued asking, giving him the time he needed to regain his composure.

The general in question had never been very good at holding his tongue, not even when receiving orders from superiors, and was quick to protest.

As anyone would’ve been able to guess, that didn’t go very well, and you weren't even gonna try hiding the satisfaction you got from seeing Hux be force-choked against a wall for speaking out of turn.

No matter how good both of you were at hiding your spiteful thoughts toward him, Kylo knew how much the two of you hated him. And more than anything, he knew how much you hated each other.

Kylo had become very predictable to you during the time you had been there and you knew his ways good enough to know that he wouldn’t have wasted petty energy in putting the two most hateful people he knew in the same room if he hadn’t been pushed to do so.

You knew that you weren’t the reason in this scenario, despite the fact that he had probably felt your spite directed towards him, which only left one option; and that option was the bitter, infuriatingly stubborn ginger currently walking by your side.

You glanced at him from the corner of your eye and glared, clenching and unclenching your fists at your sides in the same manner you had been doing ever since Kylo had ruled his decision final and dismissed you for the night.

His eyes remained trained on the metallic corridor that seemed to be stretched out for miles in front of you and your blood boiled at the sight.

You would’ve lost your shit if he’d had the nerve to even consider looking at you after putting you in this situation, but at the same time, you were also on the verge of losing your shit about him having the audacity to ignore you.

You wanted to scream at him like you’d never screamed at anyone before, but you knew that doing that would only fuel the petty grudge Kylo had against the two of you and give him more ways to cause you torment. The only thing you and the general would ever have in common was not wanting that.

But still, what harm could a tiny bit of friendly banter do?

“You just couldn’t help yourself, could you, Armitage?” The question you’d been sucking on for the past few minutes finally slipped out into the air, making your anger known.

“Don’t call me that.”

“My apologies.” You sarcastically shot back with a dry laugh. “You just couldn’t help yourself, could you, general?”

“No, it was awfully tempting.” Was all that he replied, his eyes not once flickering and neither his stone-cold scowl nor fast-paced stride faltering.

Well, you might have absolutely despised each other but in the very least, you never bothered lying to each other. That had to count for something, right? Not that either of you cared.

No more words were exchanged, and that was probably for the best. Engineers and stormtroopers all moved out of your way as the two of you marched through the corridors, side by side, knowing better at this point than to get on your bad sides when you were together and this obviously angry both with each other and in general.

Soon enough, you finally reached the corridor in which Hux’s sleeping quarters were located and once the mechanic doors slid open, you pushed yourself past him into the room before he even got the chance to react.

He fumed behind you as he watched you make yourself at home, dropping your dirty jacket on his perfectly made bed.

“You’ll take the floor, then?” You asked as you turned around, crossing your arms over your chest and shooting him a forced smile.

“Hardly.” He spat, eyes narrowing, and you scoffed, rolling your eyes in return.

“You must be a real hit with the ladies with those manners.”

At that, he stepped further into his room, allowing the sensory-triggered door to shut behind him, successfully shutting the two of you in together.

“I don’t have time for fooling around with women.” He spat out the last word with such malice that you automatically raised an eyebrow.

“Well, that explains it.” You mused, the corner of your lip tugging upwards ever so slightly.

“Explains what, exactly?” His eyes narrowed further, and this time it was his turn to cross his arms.

“That stick you have up your ass.” You wasted no time in shooting back, and before he got a chance to reply, you continued. “I know this might be news to you seeing as you’re, well, you, but gentlemen are supposed to sacrifice their comfort and offer themselves to take the floor when a lady, due to unfortunate circumstances, is forced to stay in their room.”

You sarcastically smiled at him and sank down his bed, something that he, judging by the snarl overtaking his face, didn’t appreciate.

“You, a lady? That will be the day.” He scoffed. “Even calling you a woman is a stretch with your mannerisms.”

You could only roll your eyes.

“Well, I’m not sharing a bed with you.” The glare that had temporarily been exchanged for a teasing smirk returned to your face. “I’d rather share a bed with Millicent.”

As you said that, you picked up a single strand of cat hair from his bed, held it up for further inspection and raised your lip in disgust.

He stared at you dead serious, hands clasped behind his back and eyes burning holes into the side of your face.

“You’re allergic to cats.” He pointed out, making your head whip back around to face him with a glare equally as fierce as the one you were met with.

“Yes, that’s my point.” You deadpanned. “But it would seem that said point just went right over your thick-skulled head.”

“Do you think I am any happier about this than you are?” He scowled, and you stood up, slowly approaching him and coming to a stop right in front of him.

He took a small step back, a move that made your lip tug upward ever so slightly. The fact that he was so obviously not as tough as he wanted people to believe gave you a special kind of satisfaction and he knew it, judging by the way he only turned stiffer after that.

“You should be.” You smiled sweetly at him, keeping your eyes connected to his. “Because you’re sure as hell lucky I haven’t choked the life out of you yet for getting us into this situation in the first place.”

He glared and you glared right back, challenging, no, daring him to fight back. You knew that he wanted to, you could see that he wanted to, but in the end, not even he was that stupid.

So he said nothing, and once you realized you had finally managed to successfully back him into a corner, you backed away from him again and plastered on another forced, overly sweet smile.

“Now, I need to take a shower. I reek of burnt plastic.” You stated flatly and pushed past him, making a beeline for the one extra door in the room that you could only assume was his bathroom.

You heard the squeak of his shoes rubbing against the floor as he quickly turned around behind you, and then came the determined steps and the proximity of his body closing in on you. However, before he got the chance to object or reach you, you entered his bathroom and slammed the door shut in his face, smiling contently to yourself as you listened to the muffled string of curses that followed.

You didn’t spend any more time thinking about it, though, not wasting any time before doing what you came in there to do.

You got out of your horrid-smelling clothes, released your equally as nasty-smelling hait from its ponytail and stepped into the shower.

If there was one thing you appreciated a little extra about living at the Starkiller Base, it was that everyone used the same scented soap. Because that meant that you wouldn’t have to go around smelling specifically like Hux, but rather just like you always smelled.

Once you finished washing your hair and body, you had to stop and think for a bit.

Your clothes obviously still reeked and needed a proper wash before they could be worn again, and you obviously couldn’t go naked.

After much thought back and forth, you finally settled with your own leggings as they were the one piece of clothing from your previous attire that smelled the least of smoke, and a plain black, long-sleeved undershirt that you found in a pile of Hux’s clean laundry.

Once you vad gotten dressed, braided your hair and re-entered the bedroom accompanied by a stream of steam, you found it to be empty, Hux nowhere in sight.

You couldn’t deny that you wondered where he’d gone off to, but you shook your head free of his face pretty quickly, settling with believing that he just went to take his frustration out on some poor stormtrooper or low-rank intern like he so often did when things didn’t go his way, much like Kylo Ren beat the shit out of any control panel he could get his hands on.

While you awaited his return, you occupied yourself with going around the room and lighting the small night-lamps like you normally did in your own room before going to bed.

That obviously didn’t take long, however, so you were soon enough once again left alone with your boredom and started walking around the room, inspecting all of Hux’s belongings.

You realized pretty quickly that he was not a person to whom inanimate things had much sentimental value, as he definitely didn’t have much to his name aside from the basic interior that all of the sleeping quarters on the base had.

He had a ring on his drawer, a few books in one of his two bookshelves while the other stood empty, a small bed in a corner for his cat, clothes in his wardrobe, and that was pretty much it. He had no pictures of family, no real personal belongings that could signify any kind of emotional value.

But then again, who did in these parts?

“Is that my shirt?”

You jumped when you heard the sudden voice behind you, quickly turning around where you stood twirling the ring you had found in the light of the lamp standing beside you.

Your eyes found his form immediately, shocked meeting stern.

“Why are you wearing my shirt?” He almost instantly repeated himself when not getting a reply the first time, slowly beginning to walk in your direction with his hands clasped behind his back.

You quickly put the ring back down on the dresser and turned towards him, regaining your composure.

“Well, if you hadn’t noticed, my room and everything in it was burnt to a crisp. The smokey smell on my clothes was giving me a headache and kind of would have ruined the purpose of taking a shower so when I just so conveniently noticed a pile of clean clothes, I helped myself.” You shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal, and to you, it wasn’t.

Hux, however, didn’t seem amused in the slightest.

“Yes, you seem to have a habit of thinking you’re entitled to everything you want.” He spat back at you, coming to a stop while there was still a good amount of distance between the two of you.

Any chill you had previously had melted right off and your annoyance quickly returned at the sound of his words.

“Oh, do excuse me. I just thought one headache would be enough.” You retorted and rolled your eyes, before sighing and crossing your arms over your chest. “So, how are we doing this? It’s late and I need to be up early to see to the repairs.”

“I thought that I made myself clear.” Hux was quick to scoff, his glare not faltering for as much as a second. “I’m not giving you my bed.”

Once again, all you could do was roll your eyes. “Well, I guess we’ll just have to suck it up then.” You stated flatly and sat down on the bed, wasting no time in starting to divide the pillows into two piles rather than one.

You took a few seconds to adjust the pillows to suit your needs before looking back up, eyebrow raised at the fact that he had yet to say or do anything.

Your eyes once again met his and you almost laughed out loud at the sight you were faced with, but thankfully managed to control yourself and avoid making the situation even harder than it already was.

Long story short, Hux had never looked more horrified than he did in that moment.

He basically looked at you like you had killed his cat, and that was putting it lightly.

You took a few seconds to just enjoy watching him squirm and silently scramble to make sense of the situation, but even you knew when enough was enough and raised a questioning eyebrow at him in an attempt to get him moving.

“Well? What’s it going to be?” You asked. “It’s either this or the floor, just like it was for me.”

Hux opened his mouth, hesitated, and then closed it again. He obviously hadn’t been expecting you to actually agree on sharing his bed with him and now that you had, he was left at loss for words as he clearly hadn’t been preparing for anything other than you sleeping on the floor.

But after a good moment of just standing there and looking like an idiot, he finally picked himself back up, squared his shoulders and walked around the bed to the other side with frustrated strides and a snarling lip.

The feigned confidence melted right off, however, when he reached his destination and awkwardly shuffled into bed while simultaneously avoiding your amused and mocking stare, silently grabbing the extra blanket that was folded upon his bedside table.

Both of you laid down on your backs and a heavy silence fell like a thick blanket over the room. The only sound you could hear for a few moments were each other’s breaths and your own heartbeats. For a moment, only for a microscopical moment, you were actually on your way to admit to yourself that it was kind of nice.

But that thought went flying out the window just as quickly as it had knocked on the door of your mind when Hux broke the silence by beginning to adjust himself to get ready to sleep, and in the process of doing so made the active choice to tug the pillows from right under your head.

The back of your head hit the mattress with a soft thump and you closed your eyes, your lips pulling into a straight, tight line and one, sharp breath being released through your nose as you attempted to keep your cool.

You took a moment to calm down, before you turned your head to his side of the bed where he now laid with his back to you and tugged the pillows back – maybe with a little too much force than necessary.

Hux had quickly rolled over to his other side to take them back and in anger and an eagerness to get to sleep, you exclaimed: “Stop stealing the pillows!”

He met you with a stare cold enough to have anyone else shaking in their boots and spat back. “They’re my pillows.”

You grumbled under your breath and let go of one of the two pillows, letting him pull it back to his side while you held on to the last one.

You stared at each other for a moment, both of you eventually coming to a silent, mutual agreement that you were too tired to fight and therefore he'd let you keep the pillow you were holding on to as if your life depended on it.

He, once again, laid down and turned his back to you, his hands holding on to the pillows under his head while you struggled to get comfortable again, this time with only one pillow.

“Why is your bed so damn hard?” You muttered under your breath as you angrily shoved your elbow into the mattress in an attempt to make it more comfortable – as if that was ever going to help.

“Stop complaining.” He only snapped back.

“How could I when I’m stuck in a bed with you?”

“You could’ve asked for other accommodations when you had the chance.”

“And what, be the next victim of Ren’s lightsaber?” You scoffed. “I’m the one in charge of the repairs that are needed every time he throws a wobbly. I’ve seen the kind of damage that thing can do and I’m not in any hurry to find myself at the receiving end of it.”

You muttered the last part under your breath as you finally managed to get relatively comfortable, plopping back down on your back and folding your hands over your stomach.

“How did you know I’m allergic to cats, anyway?” The question spilled out before you could stop yourself, and before you could even register that it was on the way.

Where did that even come from? Cats weren’t even close to being the subject at hand.

Hux didn’t seem to care much about the random change of subject, however, simply muttering back a reply. “You start sniffling and scratching your arms every time you’re in the same room as me for more than five minutes.”

He was clearly tired. Tired in general or just tired of you, you didn’t really know, but you guessed that it was a mixture of both since that was the case for you.

“Maybe I’m just allergic to you.” You muttered back with a shrug, even though he couldn’t see you, and he scoffed at that.

“Had that been the case I’m fairly certain it would go both ways and, unlike you, I don’t go around oozing snot everywhere I go.”

“I don’t go oozing snot everywhere.” You calmly protested, throwing the back of his head a disapproving glare before turning to lay on your side so that your back was now turned to his.

He didn’t say anything else and neither did you, sleep coming in and catching you completely by surprise and having you knocked out within the next two minutes.

When you woke up early that next morning, Hux was unsurprisingly already gone, Millicent instead laying in his place and looking right at you.

With a disgusted snarl and hesitant movements, you reached over to the other side of the bed and awkwardly patted her head twice, probably very much in the incorrect manner as you had no experience whatsoever with animals.

You got out of bed after that, put on your jacket and shoes, and wasted no time in getting to work once you’d gotten some food into your system, your team joining you in the damage-inflicted area to start on repairs like you’d done so many times before.

Everything was going fine and dandy, just a light-reckon day that started off like any other – if you didn’t count waking up in Hux’s bed with his cat – but a few hours into your workday, the unmistakable sound of Kylo Ren’s heavy steps could be heard echoing through the entire corridor you found yourself working in.

A big share of the Order’s pilots had been either killed or badly hurt a few days prior in an ambush. No one had expected any pilots to be needed for at least a few days but Kylo had gotten a sudden lead on the map that would take him to Luke Skywalker and was now walking around the base recruiting anyone capable of helping him get what he wanted.

Unfortunately for you, you were not only a highly-ranked engineer, but also a pretty decent pilot, and couldn’t say anything in protest when you were whisked away to a ship.

As anyone who wasn’t driven by an unhealthy obsession would have been able to guess, the lead was just too good to be true with a way too simple access.

Just like the last lead, this one fell through when it was revealed to be another ambush. You weren’t completely sure what happened, but over the comms, you had heard something about Leia Organa and some scavenger.

You didn’t have time to think about retired war heroes though, no matter how much you’d love to pry and the get in on the gossip, as you had to shoot yourself through a big fleet of Resistance starfighter corps, barely getting through with your ship intact.

Your fellow pilots were shot down one by one, only a small amount of you managing to get out of there. And even then, you were met by more starfighter corps just as quickly as you’d gotten away from the last line.

Everything was just a mess after that. You weren’t able to get through to anyone over the comms, only barely being able to make out a “pull back!” before your comm system was blown to pieces along with one of your main engines.

Along with several other ships, you were forced to crash-land on a small planet filled with thick woods and when your ship collided with the ground, your head slammed into the controls, rendering you unconscious for who knows how long.

By the time you came back to it, you were hanging upside down, the only thing preventing you from falling down being the seatbelt keeping you strapped in.

You struggled to get out of there but you managed, and had to take a moment to get your surroundings to stop spinning before moving forward to look for survivors as well as a ship that wasn’t completely beyond salvation.

You weren’t sure who you’d find, but the person you’d shared a bed with the previous night was definitely the last person you’d expect to have crashed in the same place as you.

And still, you recognized his ship immediately. After all, you were the one who had personalized it to fit his liking.

Lucky for you, his ship seemed to have gotten a pretty soft landing. As you circled around it, you were able to determine that no major engines had been blown out. Damaged? Definitely. But they looked intact enough to at least be able to put some more distance between you and the Resistance pilots and get you to a safer place. Hopefully, the inside would be as untouched as the outside.

The ramp was lowered to the ground but didn’t look broken, so you wasted no time in jogging inside.

The lights were out completely in the entrance area, and just flickering in the ceiling when you came further in.

The first thing you noticed when you entered the piloting pit was that the pilot was not breathing. How could you tell from that far a distance? Well, let’s just say that something that was not supposed to be stuck in his eye, was stuck in his eye.

Upon further inspection, you noticed another body on the floor. However, this one was very much alive.

You would’ve expected to be met by a desperate “help me”, maybe even some begging and pleading or in the very least a “please”, but instead, even when in the process of bleeding out on the floor, Hux narrowed his eyes at you as you approached him and asked you with ragged breaths:

“Is that my shirt?”

You panted as you dropped to your knees at his side, still pretty shaken up from your own crash. “What? No.” You replied in a breath, and you wasted no time in starting to inspect his injuries.

“Yes, it is.”

“Why would I be wearing your shirt?” You asked simply, struggling to see in the dark as the flickering lights weren’t providing much assistance by means of light.

“That’s my shirt.” He kept insisting, and flinched when your hand made contact with his lower abdomen.

Only then did your eyes register the glimmering piece of metal through your blurred and disoriented vision, sticking out of his side.

You flinched at the sight, not needing any more light than you had to know that it was really bad.

Your heart suddenly picked up in speed in your chest, and your hands began shaking as they became covered in his blood.

You had never been in the middle of the action before now, you’d always just been surrounded by metal and electricity. The most exciting thing you’d ever experienced was when a new engineer circuited a control panel the wrong way, resulting in it blowing up right by your workplace.

But it wasn’t the action in itself that had your heart about ready to burst through your chest, nor was it the blood in general, but rather the fact that it was his blood covering your hands.

His life was completely dependent on you at this moment and you had absolutely no idea how to behave accordingly.

But if there was something you knew, it was that the last thing you were supposed to do was to show a dying man your panic, so you took a deep breath and tried your hardest to steady your racing heart, going back to the conversation at hand.

“How could you tell the difference, really?” You asked. “All of our shirts look the same. All black, all equally as sufficient when used to stop blood flows.”

As you said that last part, you released another breath and ripped off a big chunk of the lower part of the shirt you were wearing.

A shirt that was, in fact, Hux's.

The man in question let his head fall back against the wall that he was propped against and his eyes squeezed shut when feeling your hands return to his side.

“Do you always wear shirts several sizes too big?” He managed to get out through clenched teeth and you replied without missing a beat.

“There was a mix-up in the laundry room.”

“So it isn’t your shirt?” He continued to be persistent and despite the seriousness of the situation, you couldn’t help but to let a small smile slip.

“Do you want to keep fighting about whether or not this shirt is mine or would you rather maybe, oh, I don’t know, focus on getting the hell out of here?” You asked him lightly and at that, he raised his head to meet your eyes with a distrusting glare.

“Why are you helping me?”

You raised your eyebrow at him, sparing just a second to meet his eyes. “You have a piece of metal stuck in your side, why the hell would I not help you?” You asked and as quickly as you had looked up, you looked back down at your hands to see what you were doing.

“You hate me, and I hate you.” He deadpanned, and you couldn’t deny you felt your heart tug in your chest.

“Who told you I hated you?” You asked, and listened as he let out a dry, struggling laugh.

“You did. On countless occasions.”

He hissed when you accidentally bumped your hand against the piece of metal. You quietly apologized but didn’t stop, knowing you didn’t have much time before the enemy would catch up with you.

“Thinking that I’m entitled to everything I want isn’t the only bad habit I have. I also have a tendency to overexaggerate.” You joked with a smile. “I do find you insufferably infuriating, though.”

Another chuckle left his lips. “Likewise.” He said and dropped his head back against the wall.

You said nothing more, ripping another two pieces off of the shirt, tying them together and wrapping it around his waist like you had the first piece. You tightened this knot significantly more than the first one, though, right above the piece of metal, and just as quickly as he had relaxed, he jerked back forward with a yell.

“I need to stop the bleeding, you need to keep still.” You hurriedly scolded and sternly pushed him back down by his chest.

He muttered bitterly in return, but didn’t protest.

“I bet you’re enjoying this.” He seethed, and you raised an eyebrow, a small smile playing on your lips.

“Whenever I’m feeling down, I just think back to the multiple times I’ve had the pleasure of witnessing you being force-thrown across a room by Ren. Puts a smile on my face every time. But that doesn’t automatically mean I want you to die. So stop wallowing in your internalized self-hatred and put your hand over mine.” You told him, trying your hardest to keep a lighthearted attitude, more so for your own sake than his at this point as you were literally about to pass out.

But he did as told, contributing with the strength he had left when you got to your feet and started pulling him up and into one of the seats that were still intact.

He put a trembling hand over yours and in turn, you put your other one over his and pushed down. He hissed and you gave him a moment to adjust, and when you were sure he was pressing hard enough with his own hand, you slowly removed both of yours and fastened his seatbelt.

“Keep pressure and hold on tight. This is most likely going to be a rough ride.” You warned him, and he slowly looked up at you through a mess of ginger hair.

“It can’t be any worse than the ride here.” He retorted and you nodded, taking that as a “go ahead”.

You wasted no time in getting into the pilot’s seat after pulling the previous pilot out, as well as the thick tree branch on which his head had been impaled, and started up the controls. It took a few tries to get out of the hole the ship hade gotten stuck in when crashing, but soon enough you were up in the sky.

With a bit of dumb luck, you eventually reached your destination and got brought back in to the base by your team of fellow engineers, all ready to repair the wrecked ship.

Hux was immediately taken to the medical bay while you stayed behind to help with the ships, and from two ends of the base, the two of you silently and separately came to realize that maybe, just maybe, you didn’t hate each other as much as you thought, after all.

#hux x reader #hux imagine #hux #armitage hux #armitage hux x reader #armitage hux imagine #general hux #general hux imagine #general hux x reader #domnhall gleeson #star wars #star wars imagine #star wars x reader #kylo ren #knights of ren #the first order

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crypticwanda · 3 years

Note

I'm not sure if this is where I can ask for request but how about here it is hehe i hope you are comfortable enough and nothing is triggering with the request altho it is just calm i guess haha

How about:

Reader is the first and only survivor of the hydra experiment batch before wanda and pietro joined but reader never cooperated with hydra because she was only forced to be there (kidnapped) so they keep beating her up and then when wanda and pietro came, they become close, specially with wanda because they can communicate in their minds and one day maybe hydra is not happy with wanda's progress so they decide to punish her and then reader protected her, using her power for the first time

I'm so sorry if it's too specific. You can totally change a lot of things and you can decide the power. I just really want an overprotective!reader x Wanda 😂

Thank you so much for humoring me if ever hahaha i love your stories

Oh my god overprotective!reader is amazing and yes this is where you send requests, you did it right! Also thank you so much <33

To Protect You

summary: you are the survivor of an experimental group in HYDRA before Wanda and Pietro had arrived. You and Wanda are able to communicate through your mind due to both of your powers and become close to one another. One day, a guard starts hurting Wanda because of her performance, and you snap.

pairing(s): wanda maximoff x reader

warnings: overprotective!reader, violence, abuse, cursing

taglist: @myperfectlovepoem @minnahbukharo @supersourlemon13 @royalityofmultifandom @madamevirgo @b0mbdotc0m @fayhar @olsensnpn

Your eyebrows furrowed angrily as you walked down the white hallways of the HYDRA outpost. Your wrists were red and aching from the thick metal cuffs harshly hitting your wrists. "Keep moving." You heard one of the guards say as you felt a violent push on your shoulder, causing you to grit your teeth and grunt in annoyance. "I am moving." You growl in annoyance as the guard scrunched his face in anger.

The guard had prepared to bring up his hand to strike you, but the the other guard standing next to you hand held his arm. "It's not worth it." He mutters as the other guard puts his arm down. You couldn't even feel happy about it, you knew that the only reason he stopped him was so that they wouldn't get their asses in trouble. You turned your head back forward as your eyes continued to peer angrily ahead.

A loud metallic noise was heard when the door to your cell had opened vertically. You grunted as you felt one of the guards push your back harshly as you stumbled into the cell. “I can walk on my own.” You mutter as you saw the vertical door shut. “Experimental Group one has completed their tests for today, we will resume tomorrow.” You heard one of the announcers say into the intercom as the guards outside your door start to walk away while talking with each other. You huffed out air as you turned your body and pressed your back against the cold wall. Your body sunk to the floor until you were sitting on the floor with your back against the wall. The lights around you outside your cell began turning off as they slowly reached your cell and the only light visible was the soft light in the corner of the room, barely able to light up the entire room. You sighed deeply before bringing your hand in front of your face, the metal of the cuffs clinging together. A small orange light began to emit from your fingertips as you moved them around slowly. You smiled to yourself, knowing that you were still able to use your powers, even if it was in the smallest amount. You were unsure about what your powers were and how to use them, all you knew is that one day you would use them to get out of this horrid place.

The next day, you were awoken by a loud beep sound that came from the doors in the hallways. You heard multiple footsteps emerging from the corridor and some guards talking to either themselves or someone else. You thought you could have heard chains as someone was walking, causing your face to scrunch in confusion. You grunted softly as you pushed yourself to your feet and walked over to the door of your cell and brought your head up to look out of the glass. Your eyes widened slightly as you saw two more prisoners around your age walking in front of the two guards. You observed closely as you saw both of them heading to the cells on the left side of you. Before they entered their cells one of them, a girl with dark hair and tired eyes, had looked back directly at you causing your eyes to peer slightly at her. You heard the loud doors closing, indicating that they were both in their cells. You huffed out air as you turned your body and resumed to the spot where you were sitting on the wall. ‘I wonder what they are doing here’ you thought to yourself as you looked down at your hands.

“I could ask you the same question.” You heard an accented voice asking you, almost as if it was a headset but no one was around you. The sudden voice caused you to jump as turn your head rapidly to look around your empty cell. “What the fuck.” You muttered to yourself as your heartbeat was still increasing. “Calm down, I’m talking to you through your mind.” The voice was inherently feminine with a strong accent to it. You breathed in deeply as you brought your hands back into your lap. “You’re the girl, the new prisoner they just brought into the cell next to me.” You muttered to yourself, still wondering if it was in your head or not. “My name is Wanda.” She said, she was sitting against her wall in her cell, almost parallel to you in your cell. “Y/N.” You said quietly. It almost caused her to smile just being able to talk to someone for the first time in such a long time.

“You’re different, aren’t you? Most people can’t respond when I talk to them.” Wanda said as she was moving around a box in her cell with her powers. “We’re prisoners of HYDRA, I think we’re different than most people.” You smirk slightly as you spoke. You could hear her stifling a chuckle under her breath as you spoke. Just the small conversation had caused a smile to appear on your face, it was nice to not be alone for the first time in forever.

Almost two months had passed since Wanda, and now you know her brother Pietro, had joined you in the HYDRA outpost. Ever since they arrived, you and Wanda had become close. She was the person you could talk to without even moving from your cell, it was comforting having someone to talk to. Although the treatment has been worse than ever. Usually the guards are rough, but with the Maximoff's they were worse, and it made your blood boil. If looks could kill, all the guards in that room would be dead by now.

“Maximoff!’ You heard one of the guards say, even just the sound of his voice made you clench your fist. You heard the door to her cell open and the sound of footsteps leading into her room. “You’re progress has been declining rapidly over the past few weeks, almost like you’ve been distracted by something.” The voice made your jaw clench and your eyebrows furrow. Wanda looked up at the guard from sitting on the floor with her back against the wall. She didn’t respond to the guard, she just kept her head facing the floor. “Come here.” The words of the guard had you sprinting to your door, trying to look through the glass. Since the guard was already in Wanda’s cell, you couldn’t see them. You cursed to yourself as you violently hit the door with your fist.

Wanda had hesitantly gotten up from the ground, the sound of her cuffs clinging together as she stood up. Slowly she walked over to the guard, her feet dragging along the ground as she did. Then, the guard violently grabbed Wanda by her neck, causing her to begin to choke as she gasped for air. You couldn’t see Wanda, but you could hear her suffering in your head and it made you snap. You stood in front of your door as you continuously began striking at the door with your bare fist. All you were feeling was rage coursing through your veins, and your blood was boiling. As you continued to hit the door, you started to feel an unusual feeling in your fingertips, almost like a tingling but more powerful. Then, you started to see the orange-yellow light begin to emit from your fist like once before, only this time it was brighter than before.

As you brought your hand up into the air to strike once more, the irises of your eyes began to glow a bright yellow as your hand was emitting a powerful energy that was glowing yellow and orange. When you brought you hand down to impact with the door, an impulse of energy surged throughout the entire outpost and the door you were striking flew through the air and hit the other side of the wall with a loud clang noise.

A loud alarm began blaring through the entire building as most of the guards looked up in confusion, Without even thinking about the power you had just unlocked, you turned and ran over to the cell next to your own. The guard in the room had turned his head in confusion as he let go of Wanda’s neck and she dropped to the ground, gasping for air. The guard had reached for his gun but you were already running towards him as you brought up your hand to strike him with a powerful burst of energy. His body flew and hit the back of the wall of the cell, leaving a large indent in the wall. The guard was knocked out cold, causing a bit of relief to flow through you. Even though you wanted to kill him right there, you knew Wanda’s safety was more important to you. “Wanda.” You pant as you turn to kneel down next to her on the ground as she kept a hand on her neck. You helped her stand up and to your surprise, she wrapped her arms around your neck and pulled you into a hug. You immediately reciprocate by wrapping your own arms around her and pulling her close to you. “It’s nice to finally meet you.” She said as a few tears began to well up in her eyes.

As much as you wanted to enjoy this moment, it was interrupted when more guards began to crowd around the entrance of the cell door with their guns drawn. Your eyes widened as you heard one of the guards yell, “Fire!”. Before the bullets could reach you, Wanda had picked up the bed in her cell with her powers and held it in front of the both of you as a shield. “We need a way out!” You yell over the sounds of bullets. “Pietro can get us out quickly!” She yelled back as you nodded to her. As Wanda backed up, you stood up in front of the bed and kicked it far enough so that it would hit a few of the guards. You ran out of her cell and made your way over to the two guards still standing. One of them you had hit with your powers so that he would go flying across the room. The other one you had elbowed him in the stomach and then kicked him across the room until he hit the wall. You panted heavily as you turned to see Wanda walking over to Pietro’s room. You walked up next to her and balled up your fist as the orange-yellow began emerging from your fist. You drew your hand back before punching the door, causing it to fly through the air and hit the wall of his cell. “Pietro!” Wanda said worriedly as she hugged her brother. “Time to go?” Pietro asked sarcastically, his accent showing strongly through his words. “Take Wanda first, you can come back for me.” You told Pietro as he nodded. Wanda looked up at you with confusion on her face but she didn’t have time to react before Pietro picked her up and ran out with her in the blink of an eye. Within a second, Pietro was back in front of you and he quickly swept his arms under your legs as he picked you up and quickly ran outside where Wanda was.

As you stood back on the ground after Pietro had taken both of you out of the outpost, you realized that you were both standing in the middle of a snowy forest. “So, what now?” Pietro asked as he put his hands on his hips. “We just keep moving forward.” You tell them, your breath becoming visible in the cold air. You turned towards Wanda as she kept her arms in front of her chest. “Together.” You finish as she looks up at you with a genuine smile. You didn’t know where you were going or how you were going to get there, all you knew is that now you weren’t alone anymore and you wouldn’t let anyone hurt them again.

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hansolmates · 4 years

Text

a hero’s journey (m)

summary; jungkook and jisoo are the mightiest power couple. however, one drunken confession and that whole facade fades in an instant. you realize that maybe you need to break from your unvaried life for a bit and be the hero of your own love story pairing; jungkook x editor!reader (f) genre/warnings; best friend’s boyfriend au, slice of life, angst with a happy ending because im weak, pining pINING, everyone’s kind of a mess in their own sweet special way, alcohol use, mentions of ze weed, toxic relationships, mean friends, sex—slight dom!kook, food play, fingering, squirting, heavy use of the petname “pretty girl” bc im weak, strength kink, manhandling (oop!) w.c; 22.2k a/n; woof! my first fic for @goldenclosetnetwork 23 | jungkook’s birthday project! this goes out to all the closet romantics *ahem me cough* who doesn’t love pining between a cutie koo? a huge thank u for vivi @eerieedits for making this bbbBEAUTIFUL fic banner!

prompt used: “I should’ve known.”

if you like this fic pls consider giving a like n’share🥺💜🥺💜

It’s so easy to ignore the world.

Maybe it’s a young-adult thing, but it gets difficult fitting into the 9-to-5 and playing to satisfy bosses that don’t entirely understand your work ethic. Maybe it’s out of complacency, or fear. But you prefer to let the world flow around you and when you’re needed, you’ll act. You’ve reached that point in your life where you enjoy the little things, satisfied by an extra hour of overtime tacked onto your paycheck, a new fabric softener, or finding the perfectly squishy yoga mat.

You’ve finally started feeling comfortable in your shoes, uncaring as to whether you’re single or drowning in college debt, happy to live a relatively stable life. You’re grateful. There’s nothing more than you need than your happiness, and the love of your friends and family.

Namely, your best friend from college. Jisoo always joked about how you two “won the lottery” as dorm rooms in freshman year were determined by lottery. Pulling numbers 883 and 884, you and Jisoo snagged a corner spot of the dormitory, leaving you two utterly cramped but utterly close as the years went by. Six years later and it’s still the case, the two of you have grown into talented working ladies. While you may not be able to spend time with each other the same way you did in school, you still care for each other.

So when Jisoo shows up teary with a rumpled dress shirt and her hair waterfalling out of this morning’s bun, you break out the good alcohol and season three of Jane the Virgin for her.

After the liquid is warm in your cheeks and you’ve fawned enough over Micheal and Rafael’s love triangle, you let Jisoo ramble.

Jisoo has downed a whole bottle of soju on her own, while you’ve decided to have a tasteful glass of wine. You’d rather be tired wine drunk than wasted on soju.

“Jungkook and I had a fight,” she warbles, stuffing a handful of popcorn in her mouth, “it was totally stupid.”

Your eyes flash, picturing Jisoo and Jungkook in quarrel. They’re the epitome of an Instagram-worthy couple, beautiful and deathly charming to a fault. They show nothing but kindness and sweetness to you whenever you third-wheel, not a lick of anger between them when you’re all together.

So a fight is something surprising. Jisoo and Jungkook, J-squared are a power couple. Saying their names next to each other just emits a sort of energy you can only akin to famous small screen couples like Troy and Gabriella or Cory and Topanga. Jisoo’s Instagram is belly full with sweet selfies of them together, the doe-eyed man always looking completely sweet and gentle to the woman in his arms.

You never piqued Jungkook as the type of guy who would pick a “stupid fight.” And you know Jungkook pretty well.

Maybe a little too well.

“He surprised me during my lunch break and he caught me talking to Doyoung and he thought I was flirting,” Jisoo is practically eating her sweater, her head falling between her flannel pyjama sleeves.

“Doyoung, as in your ex Doyoung?” you raise a brow.

She groans, glaring at you in earnest. “Not you, too! I told him it was ridiculous to get jealous, and then I told him how jealous I get when he’s around girls and I don’t need to tell him that,” she rolls her eyes, twisting her feet petulantly in her fuzzy socks, “but then you know what he says back?”

You wince, swirling your wine glass, “That you’re crazy?”

“That I’m crazy, exactly! How did you—” her bloodshot eyes zero in on you, where you’ve tucked yourself in the corner of the couch. You swirl the ruby liquid in your cup, watching the feet web around the cheap crystal, “you think I’m crazy too, don’t you?”

You swallow your sigh, taking your time to finish your liquid in languid sips. Uneasy, you wish you could just sink through the couch in order to avoid this conversation. Jisoo’s heart is generally in the right direction, but in terms of emotions she has the kind of sensitivity that you prefer to ignore rather than tread. Jungkook is also equally emotional, but in a different way. He wears his heart on his sleeve, preferring to keep things straight as opposed to bottling it up like Jisoo.

However the theoretic bottle has reached it’s brim and Jisoo’s tipping, fast.

“I need to tell you something,” Jisoo is swerving, crawling like an infant on wobbly limbs to reach your corner of the couch. You almost stop her, tell her you can continue this conversation in the morning, it’s what you normally do when she drinks into a stupor. But tears are swimming in her glassy caramel eyes and she’s grappling onto your blanket, resting her head in her lap.

Her glossy russet strands curtain her head, so you don’t see the expression on her face when she says her next words:

“Jungkook told me he liked you senior year, and I told him you weren’t interested so I’d have a chance.”

Wow. So that explains everything.

The memories that you’ve tried so hard to brush away, the feelings you’ve tried so hard and continue to try to suppress, are laid out in front of you on a rusted platter. You could laugh, you could fling the rest of the Pinot Grigio down your throat like fresh water on a hot day and call it a night.

But instead you choke back your tears, and push her off because you’re hurt.

Deep down you know you would’ve been less upset if she told you the week after Jisoo and Jungkook called it official. If you knew from the beginning, it would’ve been easier on your heart. But it's been over two years since the past, thinking you’ve been needlessly, stupidly, delusional in thinking that you could’ve possibly had a chance with Jungkook.

Because it could’ve been you. And the reason why Jisoo and Jungkook fought today? Now you know it’s because deep down, they know they’re each other’s second choice.

You can’t even recall a time where Jungkook and Jisoo were together alone before they suddenly started dating, remembering how it used to be you and Jungkook before Jisoo found him one day in your shared apartment, utterly smitten. And now you know you weren’t delusional, because the feelings and the signals you two were exchanging in senior year was real.

But it doesn’t stop the fact that over two years have passed. Two years of a serious relationship between Jisoo and Jungkook, and two years of you secretly loving him from an arm’s length.

“You hate me,” Jisoo removes herself from you, voice trembling. The quick, dark part of your mind wants you to snap back of course I hate you. You’ve trusted Jisoo with your life all these years, she was the reason you got through college so gracefully, why you enjoyed the past seven years of your life.

But the sentiment is stained, and all you can do is deliver a tired smile and stand up. “I don’t hate you,” you say, “I’m just, really overwhelmed. I can’t lie and say that I’m not hurt,” your fingers clutch the fake crystal in your grasp, and for once you’re thankful you’re not strong enough to break it, “but you two love each other now and there’s no point in dwelling in the ‘what-ifs’.”

Now that you think about it, when was the last time Jisoo treated you like a best friend? You stare at your wine glass, thinking that the only time comfort is provided in this apartment is when Jisoo is upset, never when you’re upset.

Jisoo bobs her head senselessly, agreeing to every word. It’s pathetic, seeing her on her knees and her eyes glimmering with the hope that you’d forgive her straightaway. She must feel awful. That’s good.

You sigh, needing to be the bigger person. “You need to call Jungkook and tell him he has nothing to worry about though, after all, you two have history now. As much, if not more than Doyoung.”

“Right,” she replies, biting her lip. It suddenly feels like you're talking to a wall, carrying a conversation that's long ended.

“As for us,” you have half a mind to slam your glass on the counter, but instead you give it a heavy hand, letting slowly thump to the coffee table, “I don’t think I want to see you two, for a while.”

“Understandable.”

“And I don’t want to help you move out anymore,” I just want you gone.

“Right,” she whispers. The both of you will be completed with your lease in two months, and Jisoo and Jungkook have decided to move into Jungkook’s apartment. As for you, you haven’t decided as to whether you want to go through the whole process of moving out or looking for a new roommate.

“I’m sorry, I’m so so fucking sorry. I just was insecure as fuck in college and Jungkook was the first person I met in a long time that helped me feel more… like me.”

You want to say that she's right, she’s selfish. Her excuses aren’t palpable anymore. It’s too late. But if you were in Jisoo’s shoes, you’d think this apology is mere crumbs in comparison to your friendship. Why isn't she trying harder? Maybe because she doesn't know any better. After all, you never told her what you felt for him has morphed into love.

You don’t even have to ask as to whether she’ll tell Jungkook this or not, you now know honesty is not her style.

Jisoo doesn’t get a goodnight and a drunken kiss on the forehead like she usually does whenever you two have your late night talks. Instead, she seals herself to her own demise as you slam the door to your bedroom, effectively shutting each other out.

Work is a bitch the following morning. You’re like molasses, rolling out of bed despite the whole world and its mother telling you to go back to sleep.

Your feet are killing you as you make your walk to work, deciding to wear a pair of red-backed heels so you can stomp your way through your day.

Your Wusband (Work-Husband) Kim Namjoon matches you step-for-step, eyes glued to his phone as he catches you on the sidewalk. “Woman on a mission,” he comments absentmindedly, eyes glued to his phone as he follows the click of your shoes to your favorite cafe.

You spare a glance to your right hand-man, eyeing him appreciatively at his dedication to your morning routine. He’s your favorite co-worker, one who keeps you on time to your meetings and keeps you sane when you want to pull your hair out and dig out a coffin in your little cubicle. Namjoon’s long legs always seem to catch up with you during your workweek, whether it’s to get coffee in the morning or to talk shit about the latest gossip in the breakroom.

The bell of the glass door tinkles in your ears as you enter the café, relatively busy for the morning rush. While you wait in line, Namjoon ticks off your activity list for today.

“Meeting with Victoria is cancelled this morning,” you groan in relief, your supervisor Victoria always scares the shit out of you even when she’s not doing anything, “and just the usual proofing and whatever we have to do on the third floor today—can I get a large iced Americano with a pump of caramel? Thanks,” Namjoon moves aside so you can throw your order in as well, “and after work could you stop by Vernon’s? He took a sick day today and he has most of the manuscripts for the next issue.”

“Done and done,” you swipe your card in the dip, tucking your card away in your zippered pouch. “So like, do Americanos taste any good? Like it’s literally watered down espresso how do you pay to drink watered down tar—”

Jungkook’s at the pick-up counter. Jungkook’s at the pick-up counter swirling stray sugar crystals with his thumb and putting them in his napkin. What an impeccable display of Virgo energy, absentmindedly cleaning things he has no business doing. You scoff to yourself, recalling this morning that Jisoo got off the phone this morning with a stupid smile on her face. From the mirror image that Jungkook is excluding while he’s smiling on his cellphone like a smitten teenager, it seems like they’ve made up.

Nevertheless the hurt from last night is still fresh in your bones, and you force yourself to look away despite the fact that your morning pick-me-ups are almost done and are sitting tauntingly next to Jungkook’s elbow. Does he really need to learn against the counter like he owns it? Hair slightly damp from the shower, your heart beats a little faster at the fresh image.His biceps are straining against his charcoal lycra long sleeve, which is slightly damp from his morning run. Snap out of it! You are a mature, working woman who does not swoon in the view of bulgy muscles, especially when the man who owns those muscles is taken. Suddenly there’s a call of your name, and two cups and a paper bag are put in front of Jungkook.

He blinks, and you immediately pale when you see his eyes flit over your name surrounded by your favorite coral pink beverage. You feel struck as his head perks up at the name and he narrowly makes eye-contact—

“The fuck you’re doing,” Namjoon gripes, shoving your guava iced tea and croissant in your chest, “standing there like a moron as if we don’t got shit to do today.”

“Sorry,” you mumble, pulling at the brown paper bag to tug a piece of croissant between your teeth. The warmth, buttery pastry melts in your tastebuds. Ah, bread. Nothing like a little bit of carb to make you feel better.

You’re suddenly thankful for Namjoon’s gargantuan torso from effectively blocking you from Jungkook, hauling you out of the coffee shop like a petulant toddler. He doesn’t even give you a chance to catch another secret look at the object of your affections, making sure you’re back in your work game before you enter the building. Even if he doesn’t know it, Kim Namjoon’s always got your back.

Or in today’s case, breathing down your back.

Without your third editor and a hard deadline coming up by the end of the week, you and Namjoon are working in tandem throughout your 9-5 to complete drafts for Big Hit Publishings Arts & Media section. Both of you take turns to bring snacks and feed each other, feeling like reading zombies and slaves to your desk as you remind each other to breathe throughout the whole ordeal.

In complete honesty you don’t totally mind. Namjoon is a great partner-in-crime, and you both love what you do and do a damn good job at it. You call it “Buzzfeed but with Benefits.”

And at least for today, you could quell the feelings in your chest from last night and this morning. Sure, you’ve always been okay with the pining you’ve had for Jungkook. The feeling comes and goes whenever it pleases, and since yesterday you’ve been okay with just admiring from afar and being their third wheel.

However, now the feelings are acutely comparable to a third-degree burn with the help of Jisoo playing with fire.

With a quiet exhale, you concede in your gaming chair (because it’s just so damn comfy to keep in the office.) You’re an adult and not a petty child, and you will not let this piece of information derail you from your calm, stable lifestyle.

But honestly? Fuck Jisoo.

“Let’s go, buckaroo,” Namjoon logs off for you, the cinnamon-y smell of his shampoo effectively waking up your senses, “it’s already 5:30. And you said you’d stop by Vern’s to get his drafts.”

“Right,” you blurt, mindlessly putting away your papers and snack wrappers in your bag. You can’t believe the whole day’s gone already.

“Maybe you don’t even have to go to his apartment. Just text him or whatever.”

“Sounds good, thanks Joonie.”

“And y/n?” Namjoon gives you a look that causes you to force a terse smile, one you give one too many times to higher-ups at work. It isn’t to insult Namjoon by any means, but you guys are partners, the kind that tell way too much but hide just enough to remain close from afar. “Take it easy, will you?”

“I will,” you concede, stretching your arms, “I’m def overdue for a massage.”

“You don’t look sick,” you scoff, taking in the casual look your co-editor boasts as he leans casually against the doorway.

Hansol Vernon Chwe is the epitome of fluffy, decked out in large electric blue sweats and his russet brown hair curling softly above his porcelain skin. Not only is he your co-editor, but also a friend from college. Not to the extent that you were with Jisoo and Jungkook, but you operated in the same publishing club and managed to get partnering internships that made you the co-workers you are today. You see a little bit of that collegiate youth in Vernon right now, as he looks well-rested and fresh faced despite the fact he probably didn’t apply moisturizer or drink enough water today.

“But you kinda do,” he tilts his head, noting the heels that adorn your feet, “you’re wearing your sexy shoes today, that means something’s going on.”

“Gee, ever the ladies’ man,” you scoff, getting under his arm to invite yourself inside, “all I want is the completed interviews so we can pick out the best parts and draft them. Then I’ll be on my merry way.”

“Oh c’mon, we’ve been talking nothing but work this whole damn month. What happened to college when we’d talk hours about House Hunters, the safeness of library sex, that little furry thing in Lincoln Hall’s urinal? That was prime conversation.”

“Vern, I’m just here for the drafts,” you sit at his tiny kitchen table, glaring at his open laptop.

“You could’ve just emailed me,” he teases, twisting around his chair so he can rest his arms against the back. “But since you’re here, that means you probably wanna spill some tea but you’re too upset to admit it.”

“If I talk will you stop talking like that?”

“Yes. Give me the juicy details. Need some juicy juice.”

“Nevermind, get out of my apartment.”

“Uh, this is my apartment.”

“My point still stands,” you make another face at his outfit, “you look like the blueberry girl from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory.”

Vernon purses his lips, scooting his chair closer to yours. He’s unfazed by your insult, far used to your defenses being higher up than Fort Knox. He looks up at you with his pretty lashes and deceivingly sweet caramel eyes, leaning his head along the backrest. “C’mon, tell me what’s bothering you,” he says in a gentle tone, coaxing you open.

He always knew how to do it for you, a little bit of sweet talking and that clear open gaze always reduced you to shreds in university. For him, it always took a good meal and some sci-fi movies to get him to talk. That must be why you’ve stayed friends for so long, you two knew how to connect.

Finally you crack, kicking off your shoes and hoping the sharp end doesn’t land on his cat. You hear Luna meow in protest but she’s got great reflexes. Unbuttoning the first three buttons of your stuffy blazer, you air out your cleavage, not caring about Vernon’s gaze. He’s seen worse.

“Remember Jeon Jungkook? Majored in graphic design.”

“Ah, yeah. The guy who like, lived at the gym and the dining hall? Haven’t seen him in a minute,” his eyes seem to glaze over the glory days, reminiscing in the simultaneous safetynet and stressor that made up your early twenties, “didn’t you guys hit it off real well? Like I remember you ditched like—three sci-fi nights to study with him. Who even studies at 1AM?”

“Yeah, we did,” and you can’t help but frown at as you remember the 7-Eleven runs, the utter warmth you felt when he would wipe a stray rice grain off your cheek, and how happy you felt to laugh so much with him it hurt, “but uh. Jisoo got drunk last night, because they had a fight. And she sort of admitted to me that she sabotaged our relationship and told Jungkook I wasn’t interested in him so they could start dating. Two years later and here we are.”

A pause. And then, “Want a beer?”

Vernon doesn’t even wait for a response when he gets up, bare feet slapping against the tile as he prepares some drinks and snacks for you.

“That’s pretty fucked up,” he practically sing-songs among the cacophony of popcorn pop-pop-popping in the microwave. The aroma of buttery kernels is all but a relief, reminding you of movie matinees, “and like, she knew you liked him! It was totally obvious, even if you didn’t spell it out for her.”

“Yeah,” you practically gushed to Jisoo those past two months, every waking moment with heart-eyes over the talented graphic designer Jeon Jungkook.

“I can’t believe Jisoo would keep that a secret from you for so long. Like, can you even trust her anymore?”

“Don’t know, was she even my bestfriend or was I just a good roommate to her?” you ask. Vernon is holding two beers in one hand and a bag of popcorn by the tips of his fingers in the other, careful to not burn himself. Opening the beer for you, you thank him and take a long swig.

“Well, good thing you’re still not in love with him or whatever. That would really suck. Unless—”

The look on your face says it all. You’re practically snotting into your bottle, your face tucked into your chin as you fight hard to stop the tears you’ve been suppressing for the last two years. “Don’t give me your pity,” you garble, turning away from the sad look Vernon gives you as he wraps his arms around you.

The tears are soft and gentle, flowing freely onto the cotton of Vernon’s arms as you let it out.

“‘M’not,” he concedes, rubbing his chin into your neck. He really is a lot like Luna, just like his cat ready to give you affection. “Let’s just, get some take-out and watch Hamilton or something.”

He lets you wear his matching sweat suit, lime green, as you order Thai food and rap along to Hamilton’s sick beats. Vernon does a better job keeping the flow, but you’re having a good time being his hype man as he parades around the living room like it’s 1776.

You go home that night around ten o’clock, feeling noticeably lighter and more relaxed. Be that it may you are still wearing the sweatpants and heels ensemble, you feel comforted.

The apartment is quiet when you walk in, not a single light turned on. You get a slice of the city lights bleeding in from the organza curtains, which allow you to kick off your heels and hobble to where you think the kitchen counter is.

Today is Jisoo’s day to cook dinner. You can tell she decided to cook today from the faint smell of Japanese curry and a small unwashed plate in the sink. Whenever it was someone’s turn, they usually left an extra bowl or serving in it for the other roommate when they got home. Unsurprisingly, you find no such thing on the counter or in the fridge.

You’re not upset, but rather decided. If Jisoo is going to let your friendship fade off with no intention of redeeming herself, then you should give her the same amount of energy back. You realize now the apology she gave last night wasn’t for you, but empty words to make her feel better and mend whatever toxicity she’s created in her own relationships. People like Namjoon and Vernon reminded you that you didn’t need to try and earn other people’s friendships.

It’s disappointing, but the feeling is all but too familiar.

If you could describe Jisoo as anything, it would be the color pink. Blushing, beautiful, beguiling pink. The way she flushes when Jungkook does an uncalled for grandiose gesture of romance, or when she wears a hot magenta number when she’s hosting a fashion show. Jisoo is the personification of La vie en rose, unbothered and unabashed.

But now all you see when you think of Jisoo? Nothing but red.

With that, you go in your room and untack the polaroid of you and Jisoo at the carnival last month, putting it away in your junk drawer to be forgotten.

“You’re running away.”

“Am not.”

“Are too,” that interjection comes from Vernon’s roommate, Jung Hoseok. He’s been watching you two bicker over work for the past hour while he plays GTA5, failing to get a good hard carry because you and Vernon are too busy discussing whatever finishing touches you need on your final draft.

“No one asked for your opinion, Jung,” you throw over your shoulder.

“I’m just saying,” Hoseok flicks his wrist and nabs a tank, “you never wanna go home, you eat all our food, and I found your pyjamas in my laundry basket.”

“You said your basket was the blue one,” you hiss under your breath.

“The navy blue one,” Vernon chirps unhelpfully, “not the electric blue one.”

Hoseok hits “save” on his campaign, disconnecting from his PS4 and stretching his lean limbs. “I mean, we could use a third roommate,” Hoseok jokes, getting up from the couch and grabbing a handful of M&Ms from your bowl, “you do make a bomb mac n’cheese.”

“Appreciated,” you relent when Hoseok presses a kiss to your cheek and tells Vernon he’ll be back late working, leaving you and Vernon alone in their shared apartment. When Hoseok is gone, you stare at the door, tilting your head, “y’know,” you remark, “Hoseok’s a cool guy, why did I never hang out with him in college?”

“Because he was stoned the majority of senior year and you just didn’t vibe with that crowd.”

“Oh, yeah.”

“But, you’re trying to change the subject,” Vernon carefully untacks your hands from your keyboard, knowing that you two have already been done with this month's issue and you’re now just mindlessly re-reading emails. “You’ve been here since Thursday, and now it’s Saturday. And as much as Hoseok and I like having you around so you can wake me up before we go to work, it’d be nice to throw me a bone and let me in on what you’re thinking right now.”

You frown, noting Vernon’s large hand covering your laptop closed. He isn’t going to remove his hand anytime soon unless you talk. “Jungkook’s helping Jisoo pack up her half of the apartment this weekend and I don’t want to be there,” you say, short and simple.

“You miss her?”

“Yeah,” you admit honestly. You hate this version of yourself, unable to even look at Jisoo nowadays despite the fact you’re under the same roof for the remainder of the month. It’s hard to believe that the roommate from six years ago finally got under your skin, cancelling out all the years of friendship because of one silly relationship, “sad she doesn’t want to be my friend anymore.”

“Did you talk about it?”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” you reply despondently, “if she cared at all she would’ve to apologize again by now.”

Vernon figures, and his neutral expression doesn’t change as he leads you to the couch, brushing away Hoseok’s things so you two can get comfy. You busy yourself with the remote, exiting the PS4 homepage to scroll Netflix.

“And are you trying to get over him?”

“I mean, yeah,” you have been, but it’s a little hard when you’ve been contentedly pining. It was easy to keep your feelings bottled up because you originally thought Jisoo and Jungkook were meant to be for each other for the past two years. Now you're still pining but ruefully bitter at Jisoo.

“It’s not fair, y’know. She broke girl code, bros before hoes. Or is it chicks before dicks?” Vernon shakes his head at his lame attempt to get you to smile, which works anyway because Vernon’s silly and his sense of humor always gets you a little loose. “It’s your house too, you shouldn’t feel like you don’t belong there.”

“Well I was supposed to help her move out this weekend, and I’d prefer it if Jungkook didn’t know what was going on.”

“What?” your friend furrows his thick brows together, tucking his hands under his knees as he leans into your stubborn expression. “You’re gonna let Jungkook go on with his life not knowing that his relationship is based on a lie. That’s not cool. Even if you’re into him, he’s still your friend.”

Damn, when did Vernon get so good at giving advice? Truth is Vernon’s always been good at dishing advice, you’ve just been privy to what you wanted to reveal to him. The first year or so being together outside of college was always about work, saving each other’s asses to ensure you two got that promotion and aim higher and higher. Now that goal is out of the way, and what better way to reconnect over some shoddy romance straight out of a Degrassi special?

“I know,” you hug your knees tight to your chest, “when I’m ready, okay?”

“Okay,” he agrees, because he’s not a pusher, “do you know the best way to get over someone?”

“What?”

“The best way to get over someone, is to get under someone," he emphasizes that point with his hands, sliding one under the other with a wiggle of his thick brows.

You slap him on the shoulder, “Vern, you disgust me.”

“But it works!”

“I’m not going on Tinder to find a fuckbuddy.”

“You don’t have to look on Tinder or Tumble.”

“Bumble.”

“Whatever,” and his eyes flicker to his lap, where his pale fingertips turn red as he grips the edge of a throw pillow. "If you really don't wanna find someone, I can help."

Is Vernon offering himself up? He is offering to fuck your brains out in the hope that you could inevitably fuck out your interest in Jungkook? Your eyes flicker over to Vernon's form on the couch, who's tucked in the couch just as you are.

It’s true that you find Vernon attractive, and to some extent he definitely finds you attractive as well otherwise he wouldn’t have suggested the idea. It’s just that in college you never viewed him in that kind of light, probably because you were always so caught up in Jungkook. But tonight you can’t seem to ignore the eagerness hidden in Vernon’s carmine gaze, and how shiny and touchable his chocolate locks look under the setting sun.

“I don’t want our friendship to change,” you reply slowly, furrowing your brows. “I appreciate it, but I don’t know. It sounds like a temporary fix.”

“Can’t knock it if you don’t try it,” and out of curiosity, you don’t shy away when Vernon leans over to you, squeezing himself between the couch so he can tuck you in his arms. “I want to help you, but only if you want to.”

Maybe it’s the frustration you feel with Jisoo, Jungkook’s ignorance, or the fact that you haven’t felt physical pleasure in such a long time, but you soften into Vernon’s hold. He’s relaxed, nothing betraying him as he waits patiently for your answer. You’ve always admired how much he kept up his “cool as a cucumber” demeanor. He isn’t the type of guy to let life pass him by, but he’s the kind of person who walks along life, embracing the ups and downs like old friends. He’s the ocean waves that crest along the shore, pushing and pulling along without a care in the world.

He’s the textbook opposite of Jeon Jungkook, which is why you give Vernon the okay to lean in and press his lips against yours.

His kisses are soft, and he takes great care in making sure you’re comfortable with this new step in your relationship. It almost feels as if you’re cutting corners, and you can’t help but feel a little guilty that you revel in the way Vernon’s hands trail under your too-large t-shirt.

The pleasure you’ve ached for is there, bubbling low in the pit of your belly. It’s hard to get you out of your mind however, because this man isn’t the one you love. His kisses hold no power, only brief reprieve. Your heart doesn’t palpitate and your palms don��t sweat, you’re just languid.

You’re greedy and selfish, but you remind yourself that it’s okay to allow yourself of these freedoms, even for a little bit. As Vernon finds your sweet spot that has you rolling your hips against his, you find that temporary fix isn’t a bad start at all.

When you trudge back to your apartment that night after much reluctance, your face is still flushed and you think you smell a little too much like Vernon’s cologne. But the fact that still stands is that you're satiated, and you feel a tiny percent closer to moving on.

The television is glowing with a terrible reality TV show, angry brides upset over cake layers or whatever. Jungkook and Jisoo have fallen asleep on the couch, surrounded by half-empty boxes. Jungkook has his arm lazily over Jisoo, her petite body fitting perfectly between his chest and the crook of his neck.

You scoff when you spy Jisoo's bedazzled manicure digging into Jungkook's bicep, as if someone's going to take him away if she doesn't hold tight.

With stiff muscles you spare one look at Jungkook, ignoring the pang in your chest as you weave between boxes to turn the TV off. Barely an iota of your feelings have dissipated since your previous tryst with Vernon not an hour ago. Looking at Jungkook brings it all back, unfortunately. You suppose the feelings will pass with time. The soft hum of the television ceases, and you’re bathed in a room that feels dark and empty, despite the apparent life in the room.

There’s some bleary talk coming from the couch as you walk to your bedroom, and if Jungkook is sleepily mumbling your name in question, you pretend you don’t hear.

“So, where’s y/n? I thought she was going to help us pack.”

It’s an innocent enough question, as Jungkook scans the corner of the living room hallway that leads to the bedrooms. You haven’t come out yet. He knows that you love sleeping in on the weekends, but he hopes the smell of fresh food will coax you to the table. His pan is sizzling in protest, telling Jungkook to quit talking and flip the hashbrowns. He's fried up three, in the hopes you’d be up for some crispy potatoes. He knows how much you love potatoes, especially at 2AM when you’re craving fries and a McFlurry combo.

Instead Jisoo mutters, “You toasted too much bread, you know I don’t eat bread like this,” she’s pulling slice by slice out of the toaster, until there’s a stack of six golden toasts in the middle of the kitchen table.

A little part of him wishes to quell the precursor to the argument there. It would be so easy for Jungkook to say, “the extras are for me” because he’s trying to gain weight, and that would be that.

Instead he continues with his unanswered question and replies honestly, “I made extra toast for y/n, babe. She was supposed to help us pack but I haven’t seen her all weekend.” But he’s pretty sure you came home last night, unless that was his imagination.

Jisoo pulls a carafé of apple juice out of the fridge, pouring the amber liquid into two glass cups. “Ah, she said she had some last minute things to do for work. Y’know, Big Hit always wants a big hit.”

He chuckles, tilting his head as Jisoo gives him a small smile from the kitchen table. Jisoo is always good at cheesy jokes. “She must love her job, huh.”

“Yeah.”

“Her articles are really good, too,” the air smells like butter and Italian seasoning, as he places one hash brown on Jisoo’s plate, and two on his. He knows you edit in the Arts & Media section, and loves how you make it a point to include video games and modern graphics when it’s deemed appropriate. “She did a piece on the evolution of RPG and I thought her commentary was really spot-on.”

He brings breakfast over to the table, while Jisoo places two slices of toast on his plate, one buttered and one with strawberry preserves. Breakfast is a quiet, but peaceful affair. Jungkook takes note of how Jisoo takes extra long to complete her meal, her fork creating ribbons in her little blob of magenta jam. He allows himself to complete his first hashbrown and a slice of toast before asking the difficult question.

“Are you and y/n okay?” and he also takes note when Jisoo’s ministrations on her jelly stop, as she looks up at him with her big brown eyes.

“We’re fine,” she insists, “just normal roommate issues, I promise.”

“Maybe I should text y/n,” Jungkook says, pulling out his phone. “Lemme help you fix this, wouldn’t want you and her in a bad place when you’re about to move out.”

“Baby, why are you so concerned about y/n?” Jisoo croons while his thumb hovers over your contact, his screen showing a two-year old selfie you two took during a study session early on in your friendship. He can’t remember the last time you two took a picture together out of spite, one without Jisoo. Jisoo’s hand pulls him away from his phone, rubbing small circles between his palm.

He wants to ask, why aren’t you? But he sees the terseness in Jisoo’s smile, as her eyes fix between the interlocked fingers. He has a feeling he’s hovering somewhere he isn’t allowed to be in. Maybe it really is roommate stuff and it’s none of his business, but he feels a little insulted being left out because you and Jungkook are just as much best friends as you were in college.

Or are you?

This question plagues him throughout the day, and when Jungkook packs enough boxes for the weekend and says he needs to go home, Jisoo for once doesn’t argue. Normally Jisoo would cling to him like a koala, murmur simultaneously adorable and dirty things in his ear and lead him to her bedroom to coop up for hours on end. But Jisoo says she’s tired and needs some alone time, which is also fine.

He doesn’t feel like going home, and instead heads straight to the gym. A couple pumps wouldn’t hurt, and it would clear his head. It’s nearly five in the evening when his body is thrumming with the afterglow of his post-workout, and he decides to take a little cool down in the mall and treat himself to a smoothie.

It must be kismet when he sees you coming out of the bookstore, looking a little winded but no less professional in your beige blazer set and rose gold iPad. Whenever he hung around your apartment with Jisoo and you’d come home from work, he’d make it a point to acknowledge your plethora of multicolored skirt-suits. He never needs to be professional in his place of work, and admires how much effort you put in.

“Hey!” he jogs up to you, and he catches the way your shoulders jump at his voice. “We missed you today.”

Your smile curls into something dry, and you twist your spine like rusty hinges to face him. In turn, his smile dims a little, wondering if he’s doing something wrong. Maybe you’re tired? He catches the line of sweat that glistens your baby hairs, and how your hair is done up but has fallen a few centimeters with some pieces falling out.

“Jungkook,” you exhale, “lifting boxes wasn’t enough of a workout?”

“You know me,” he replies stiffly, hiking his backpack higher upon his shoulder. Why does this conversation feel so awkward? “So, finishing up work? Sucks you have to work on a Sunday.”

“Ah, it wasn’t so bad,” you face relaxes a little as you explain your work, “it was children’s day at the bookstore and they were watching Disney movies. I’m writing a piece on how I believe Ratatouille is Pixar’s magnum opus. Interviewed some kids, I wanted an expert opinion.”

“Ratatouille is the superior film,” he declares with a firm nod, “after all, anyone can cook.” He revels in the small smile he manages to retrieve from you, immediately understanding the inside joke. If he came out of the gym five minutes earlier, he probably would’ve been able to catch you in the bookstore. What a shame, he would’ve loved to see you play around with the kids.

At the mention of food, the mall manages to silence itself enough for him to catch the grumbling coming from your stomach. He laughs when your cheeks heat.

“I was on my way to get some smoothies,” he jabs a thumb in the direction of the food court, “wanna catch up and get a bite?”

“Oh, I don’t know, I have a lot of work to edit,” disappointment pangs in his chest at your easy rejection, but he ignores it, “I kinda wanna save some money too, still not sure if I’m staying in the apartment after Jisoo moves.”

He doesn’t know what compels him to take your shoulders and wheel you in the direction of the food court, much to your protest and whines. “C’mon, explain to me why Ratatouille is the magnum opus—I need to defend why The Incredibles is superior. I’ll treat you to dinner.”

“What? I can pay for my own food—”

“And I can’t treat my best friend to a nice meal once in a while?”

That has you stopping in your tracks, and Jungkook nearly barrels his chest into your head if not for the grippy soles of his Adidas Ultraboosts. He can’t see your face, but his hands note how your muscles cord tightly between the cotton of your blazer.

He doesn’t understand why you’re so tense. Was it because he called you his best friend? Well, you are? At one point he felt that way, early on in college. The position just stuck with you. And when Jisoo told him you weren’t interested, he was perfectly fine with the platonic relationship. It was nice to have someone to talk media and video games to, someone not as chaotic as Jimin and someone not as deterred as Yoongi.

Although, maybe as of late he hasn’t been so much of a friend. It’s no one’s fault, he’s been caught up with work and Jisoo’s move, he hasn’t said so much as a “hey how are you” when you’re around. He can’t blame you.

Suddenly his mind blanks, the mall fading away as he focuses on how small you look as your eyes dart between the parking lot and the food court. Jisoo and Jungkook have been so caught up on each other lately, that he fears you’re starting to separate yourself.

“Um, this place is good,” you tug him by the elbow and lead him to a fast food joint.

When he picks up both your orders and comes over to your saved table, you’re talking animatedly on the phone. You’re laughing, looking at Jungkook as if he’s the one intruding and you’re muttering a hushed “sorry” as you continue the tail end of the conversation.

“Yes, Joonie. Go with section two, I know my shit. I’m your Work Wife for a reason, Umji in PR could never compare,” you’re giggling like you’re five years younger, and Jungkook feels stuck in a timelapse.

He watches you go, throwing around names and terms that he’s so lost on but so desperate to understand. He knows nothing about your life other than the one that’s tied with Jisoo, which is a damn shame. Since when did he inevitably downgrade you from “best friend” to “his girlfriend’s roommate?”

“I’m sorry,” you turn your phone over and push it to the side, giving Jungkook a smile as well, albeit weaker, “let’s dig in!”

To his relief the dinner goes as good as it should be. You have your tray practically overflowing at the seams, all on Jungkook’s dime. It has his heart swelling with pride, he hasn’t seen you eat in a long time. There’s fries spilling out from the corners, and two sandwiches because you couldn’t decide between a chicken sandwich and a burger.

Food gets you amicable, and he doesn’t mind when he does most of the talking. You’re engrossed in his talk, lettuce hanging out of your mouth as you’re rapt with attention as he recalls a story that happened at work recently with Mingyu. You ask questions in all the right places and he sucks up all your attention like a happy pill, and it feels nice to be able to lead a conversation for once.

“Jeez, I’m getting the burger sweats,” you giggle to yourself, and his smile brightens at your positive change in attitude. Food always helps.

When you remove your thick high-collar blazer, that’s when he sees it.

“Seeing someone?” he asks, eyes flickering curiously towards the violet bruises that bloom across your neck.

“What–oh,” you have the audacity to look embarrassed, hands clutching your neck like a shield, “no, just a hookup.”

A messy hookup, too. Unless you had a thing for showing off marks, which doesn’t seem to be the case. “Didn’t peg you for someone who hooks up,” he says more to himself than you, but you catch him on his impulse jab.

Your eyes narrow and your defenses go up, “I’m trying to get over someone,” you snip back, busying your hands by crushing up your greasy sandwich wrappers.

“Am I allowed to state my opinion?”

“Since you asked so politely, no.”

He sighs, “I just don’t think that’s the best way to get over someone,” heck, Jungkook doesn’t even know who exactly you’re trying to get over. He just knows that you’re far too smart and independent to let yourself resort to such matters.

“It isn’t, but it’s really the best option as of now,” you reply curtly.

And his gaze saddens as he sees you fold your blazer over your arm, indicating that your time is up. Jungkook is aware the comment he made is out of line, and it weakens him knowing that you don’t even want to pick a fight with him. He can’t even find it in himself to apologize properly.

He doesn’t know if he’s more sad that you’re pining over someone unattainable or upset at himself for not knowing you’ve been harboring feelings for someone. If you really think hooking up is your only option, you must be really hung about whoever you’re into as of late.

“If it’s worth anything,” Jungkook adds, wanting to leave on a high note, “fuck that guy. He clearly doesn’t deserve you.”

A small, secret smile plays on your lips, “Yeah, I like to believe that.”

“I’m anxious,” Namjoon’s mantra makes the whole energy in the room wobbly, paired with the fact the two of you are squished between cardboard boxes as Jungkook aimlessly moves things around like a Tetris screen.

The only time you feel remotely comfortable basking in your home is when Jisoo is gone. Oh-so conveniently is the Big Hit building undergoing maintenance today, so you and Namjoon have decided to work from home in your apartment. Although you thought by now that Jisoo’s boxes would be long gone and tucked away in Jungkook’s place, instead you’re living in an episode of Ed, Edd and Eddy and the cardboard is practically wall-to-wall. You also thought by now that Jungkook would have no reason to show up unannounced anymore, but apparently that’s not the case.

“I have, anxiety,” Namjoon adjusts his glasses for the nth time this afternoon, brain not fixed enough to focus on the screen of his chrome MacBook, “anxiety, anxiety. I can’t right now. I need my weighted blanket and a pillow.”

“Namjoon, I can get both of those for you if we just send in this last spread,” you coo gently, as if placating a baby. You make brief eye contact with Jungkook from the other side of the room, his lips quirking in amusement as he stacks a box of clothes by the kitchen.

“Do you feel my palms? My palms, they’re like a fucking fountain you need to feel them—” your Wusband approaches you like a zombie, leaning over you and tripping over his criss-crossed legs before he topples over you.

“Blegh, get off of me you sweat giant!” you cry with a good-natured laugh, although the grip of Namjoon’s palms under your shoulders are damp and slimy, “Joon, I can’t get you your blanket if you’re crushing my boobs.”

Namjoon finally relents, untacking himself to rest his chin on your glass coffee table. “Fine.”

“Look over the last column and I’ll bring your blanket, okay?”

Pushing yourself off the ground, you shuffle your way out of the living room through the maze of boxes and into the hallway. It feels like your apartment is less of an apartment and more of a storage space when you’re trapped in-between two lines of boxes, and Jungkook effectively blocking you from entering your room. He was just in the living room but now he’s come from the linen closet, standing between the entrance of your room.

“Sorry,” he pops his head out from a smaller box, one filled with designer costume jewelry.

“It’s fine,” you chirp, barely making eye contact as you shuffle over the boxes.

Your toe drags over the lid of one of the open boxes in an attempt to move diagonally. You nearly crash your face into the hardwood if not for Jungkook’s arm stretching out to catch you. In seconds he manages to catch all your weight in one hand, pulling you to him with your hip pressed against his. Your breath traps itself in your neck. Your subconscious fears that if you speak now, you’ll babble about how attractive it is that he’s able to catch you as easily as grabbing a light sheet of paper.

“Careful,” his voice rumbles in his throat as he regards you with a wan smile.

Your “thanks” is barely uttered as you slip into your room, heaving your weighted blanket and a pillow in your arms to let Namjoon borrow.

The burgundy quilted fabric is hunched over your shoulder, draped around your body so it’s easier for you to carry on your back. You try to eradicate the memory of Jungkook’s arms, lean and strong as he held you to him moments before.

Ugh, you thought messing around with Vernon would stop your silly pining. It seems that it’ll take more than a couple rounds to satiate your curiosity. For such a kind guy, Jungkook seems like a wolf in sheep’s clothing when it comes to the bedroom.

You can imagine him being so kind in the beginning, coaxing you to wan and bend to his every wish and command. And then when you keen a little too hard at the attention, you bet a switch would flip and he’d grab you—

The blanket flops around your back, and you’re sorely reminded that you’re thirsting over a taken man, yet again.

Jungkook makes it extremely difficult for him to be hateable. It’s by nature that he’s just so damn likeable. Heck, he’s pretty much packed seventy percent of the things Jisoo should be packing right now.

Making sure not to trip again, on your feelings and your blanket, you successfully reach a tired Namjoon. You tuck your koala-shaped pillow under your co-editor’s arms, and drape the heavy blanket over him like a cape. He’s giving you a thumbs up and a toothless smile, the previous meltdown overcome as he focuses on finishing the last of today’s work. He’s slipped on some noise-cancelling earphones, presumably filled with generic coffee-house music or rain playlists.

Wordlessly you go to your nook to prepare some tea. It’s getting late and a warm cup would distract you from the impending deadline. Despite the fact that you and Namjoon are 99% of the way done, his previous freak-out has you on live-wire and you could use a little caffeine.

Placing three mugs on the counter you call, “Jungkook, tea?”

“Yes please,” you stiffen when you feel Jungkook magically appear right behind you, his head peering over your shoulder, “with milk and honey.”

Deciding to give Jungkook the beehive-shaped mug because it’s very on-brand for him, you begin to steep the leaves in your kettle while he spoons the honey.

“So,” his words are slow as the drip of honey, the amber goo taking its time to descend into his mug as it falls from the dipper. “Is that the guy you’re trying to get over?”

Jungkook lifts his brows towards Namjoon, who is softcore jamming to his white noise playlist. It’s cute as to how curious Jungkook is about Namjoon. While you try to keep your work life separate, there really isn’t much backstory to your personal life to warrant that kind of divide.

“Namjoon,” you state aloud, watching Namjoon sing badly to himself, “why, are you gonna beat him up for me?”

“I can take him,” you can practically hear Jungkook’s chest pop out.

With a roll of your eyes, you reach to kill the heat off the tea kettle, “No need. He isn’t the guy I’m trying to get over.”

“Oh, he’s your fuck buddy then?”

“Shit!” being caught off guard, you grab at the handle of your kettle without a pot holder, burning your fingertips. In seconds Jungkook’s larger hand encases your own, pulling you over to the sink to soak your fingers in cool running water.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Jungkook is chanting like a sinner at church, searching for any sign of pain in your visage, “I shouldn’t have asked while you’re working with a hot stove.”

You suppress a sigh, relaxing your fingers as Jungkook soothes the burn with his gentle hold, “Shouldn’t have asked in the first place,” you mumble.

“I know,” he replies, “guess I’m just feeling a little left out. We don’t talk like we used to. I guess I’m getting a little too nosy for my own good, aren’t I?”

You don’t understand what’s going on with his incessant babbling as of late, but you chalk it up to work stress and Jisoo’s move. Having no answers to his honest reply, you gently untack your red palm from his grip, assuring him that you’re fine.

Namjoon steps into your kitchenette, being surprisingly careful as he takes your potholder to pour himself a cup of tea. If the tea is oversteeped and bitter he doesn’t say anything, only leans against the counter as he regards you two with slow sips. “You alright?”

“M’fine,” you reply stubbornly, avoiding Jungkook’s worried stare.

Namjoon holds out his hand, “Hand.”

“No—”

“Hand.”

His deep voice coerces you, and you immediately slap the back of your palm onto Namjoon’s. Your partner brushes his golden hands over the tiny blister that’s forming over your fingertips. “Can’t have my Work Wife outta commission.”

“Your Work Wife is fine,” you gripe back.

Your co-worker’s eyes flicker over to Jungkook’s for a brief second, Jungkook regarding him in curiosity as he stares at your connected palms. “I have some aloe in my bag for sunburns,” Namjoon offers helpfully, ignoring the weird glances, “I’ll give it to you in a bit. Also, I’ve overcome my sudden bout of stress and I’m ready to email our progress to Victoria. We’re done for the day.”

“Awesome, thanks Joonie,” you exhale, relaxing against the sink, “wanna go eat somewhere?”

“There’s a niche place in Itaewon if you wanna check it out?” Namjoon offers.

Jungkook interjects, “Jisoo ordered pizza if you guys wanna share with us?”

“Pizza also sounds good—”

“We don’t wanna interrupt your alone time,” you gracefully cut in, stepping in front of Namjoon despite the fact that he’s easily towering over you.

Jungkook snorts, “I’ll have enough alone time with her when she moves in, don’t worry. Besides, I ordered three pies because I wanted to try three different flavor combos. I need two additional judges.”

“Thanks Jungkook but,” you stifle a cry when Namjoon jabs you in the back with his thumb. It’s pressing, digging into the small of your back as if he’s trying to telepathically tell you that you’re being rude, “but… I don’t know if I can eat three slices! Namjoon on the other hand, can probably eat enough to fairly judge.”

“Great,” Jungkook’s smile is blinding, causing your grin to stiffen as he looks for his phone to shoot Jisoo a quick text that they’re having dinner for four.

Once Jungkook’s out of earshot, Namjoon tugs you by the sleeve, “The hell was that?” he hisses in your ear, “you look like you’re about to shit and piss your pants at the same time.”

“I just don’t feel comfortable eating with them,” you cross your arms in defiance. You think back to just a week ago where you and Jisoo reluctantly attempted to eat breakfast together one morning. You provided minimal small talk while Jisoo clinged to her phone, replying to you in non-committal clipped tones.

“Do I want to know?”

“No.”

“Do you want me to leave?”

“No!” you retort, “you got me into this mess, you’re gonna stay with me ‘till the end.”

“I don’t know what you want from me, woman,” Namjoon throws his arms out exasperatedly, oolong tea nearly sloshing onto his hand, “just suck it up or I revoke your bragging rights to that snag you got on our spread next Monday.”

“Not my fault you couldn’t get Kim Taeyeon on the spread,” you smirk.

“Well I didn’t so happen to stalk the Sephora she frequents for the past two weeks—”

“I didn’t stalk her I just so happened to need a new Fenty Gloss Bomb every other day—”

“I’m home, Jungkookie!”

Your face contorts, your playful energy melting to the hardwood as your previous banter with Namjoon evaporates into thin air. Work bags in one hand and three boxes of pizza balancing in the other, Jisoo kicks off her heels somewhere across the door and places the pizza on the dining table.

Jungkook immediately appears by her side, and you look away and Jisoo plants a heavy kiss on his lips. She cracks open one eye as she notices you and Namjoon hanging by the kitchenette, “Oh,” she mumbles at her audience, “you’re here?”

Yes, you bimbo. I’m here in my own apartment.

“I guess you didn’t read my text that they’ll be joining us for dinner,” Jungkook cuts in good-naturedly, “we have way too much pizza anyway. Have a seat, guys.”

Jungkook navigates the kitchen as easily as your own, and you slump in your chair while Namjoon exchanges pleasantries with Jisoo. She looks impeccable, hair in a tight chignon and a tight navy dress as she converses with your co-editor.

“I’m starving,” Jungkook announces, making sure to place a slice on Jisoo’s plate. He shuffles through the other boxes, making brief eye contact with you when he decides to put a slice on yours as well, “you like these toppings, right?”

You regard the greasy, hearty piece of cheese and bread with a curt nod. You feel Jisoo’s eyes laser on your skin, “Yeah, thanks Kook.”

Namjoon, Jisoo and Jungkook mostly stir up the conversation, you opting to eat as slow as possible to avoid any conversation. It’s easy to blend back and let them take over, as Jisoo loves to talk about her fashion firm and Namjoon is a great listener.

Jungkook and Namjoon make it a point to direct the conversation to you from time to time, and you let the ball leave your court as soon as it lands. You prefer to keep your responses short and simple, especially when Jisoo is so eager to talk about the new silk drapes she’s installing for Jungkook’s windows.

Your phone buzzes in your lap, and you discreetly look under the table to read the incoming text message.

vernie bernie: would u like to do the devil’s dance tonight

vernie bernie: or a tickle to my pickle?

vernie bernie: beatin ya bean?

You: ohmyGOD

vernie bernie: or y’know, u could just come ovr and chill. Hobi made some bomb tres leches

You: call. Ill come after dinner

“Are you okay, y/n?” your head bounces up to meet Jungkook’s gaze, “you’ve barely eaten and you haven’t talked much.”

“Oh you know, she’s just stressed about the upcoming spread,” Namjoon steps in for you, and you send him a discrete, but grateful smile. He’s always impeccable at reading the room, “she’s just nervous about her interview with Kim Taeyeon, but I think you did her interview justice.”

“No way, the singer Kim Taeyeon?” Jungkook gushes, regarding you with stars in his eyes, “your interviews are always so great, y/n. You ask really good questions. Like that one spread about Lee Yonghwa’s art gallery? Really cool.”

You notice the way Jisoo presses her lips together, a thin line as if she’s trying to seal away words that she’ll regret saying. She’s jealous, and you can’t help the blush of pride that fills your veins as you raise a secret brow at her.

“Right, you got nothing to worry about,” Namjoon squeezes your shoulder encouragingly, as if you’d get his double-meaning.

“Thanks,” you reply, pushing your plate away and standing up, “I’m actually gonna go head to Vernon’s for a bit, though. He wants to double check his work before we email Victoria.”

It’s a bald-faced lie, Namjoon sent the files to Victoria right before dinner, but he isn’t going to argue.

“Okay,” Namjoon thanks Jungkook and Jisoo for the meal, stacking his plate atop yours, “I’ll walk out with you.”

“It’s only been twenty minutes, though,” you see the slight panic in Jungkook’s gaze as he watches you quickly clean up for you and Namjoon. You can’t quite pin why he’s so concerned, after all he has been acting strange as of late.

“Yeah, I’m full,” you reply curtly, licking your lips and avoiding his gaze. You already know what he wants to say, that he’s been in your apartment all day and all he’s seen you eat is stale chips and tea, “but we can do this again.” But hopefully not.

“If you’re coming home late again,” it’s the first time Jisoo has spoken to you directly. You tilt your head to her slowly, watching the plastic smile carefully carved onto her expression. You see the contrived care and concern between her brows, “please try to be quieter next time, the last time you came home late you woke Jungkookie up.”

Snapping your gaze to Jungkook you plaster on a thick smile, “Sorry Jungkook—”

“What? No, it’s fine!” he furrows his brows in confusion, finally able to detect the strange tension between the two housemates, “I barely heard you—”

“Maybe I’ll just stay the night at Vernon’s,” your eyes trail over to the pajama set you immediately switched into when you got home today, “wouldn’t want to disturb you two.”

“Good,” Jisoo’s tone is saccharine and clipped as she tacks on a, “have fun.”

It’s laudable, how much Jisoo wants to make a fool out of you but you won’t have it. You revel in the perplexed expression as Jungkook’s gaze darts back and forth between the two of you, wanting to butt in but unsure of how to approach it. Not giving him the time to, you bid the couple a goodnight and make a fast getaway. Heck, you don’t even take your work stuff with you.

Once you’re out the door, Namjoon wordlessly gives you a hug. You sigh gratefully into his embrace.

The next time Jungkook sees you, he reads the room before anything. You and Jisoo’s apartment is scarily empty, almost clinical. He’s tried texting you a few times after his failed-not-failed attempt at catching up at the mall and his awkward conversation concerning Namjoon, but you always reply back with vague replies and an unpromised promise of meeting up sometime soon.

It dulls him to think that you’ve given up on him as a friend. But can you blame him? He needs to keep an appropriate distance for Jisoo, after all, she doesn’t like it when he gets too close to other women unless it’s strictly professional. Usually Jisoo’s jealousy inevitably works itself out and Jungkook doesn’t pose any problems because he has very few girl friends, but for some reason your friendship with him specifically gets Jisoo stiff in the face. Is it because you and Jisoo are so close? Possibly.

But it doesn’t mean you can’t join the same Valorant server with him at 2AM and accidentally bomb each other, or argue over the magnum opus of each film company. Is that not enough?

Jisoo’s working overtime, and Jungkook suggested last night that he move the boxes to the front of the door for easy pick-up when the moving truck arrives. Jisoo promises to buy Thai food in return, and with a kiss emoji she leaves him to audit fabric budgets.

As he glides down to Jisoo’s room he notes that the pictures along the wall have disappeared, and there’s double the amount of boxes in the hallway. It seems that you’re moving out too. To where, he doesn’t know but he hopes it isn’t too far.

He chides Jisoo remotely when he sees that her room is completely intact, and he makes moves to pack up her things.

That’s when he finds his letter. Not a love letter to Jisoo, but a love letter to you. Deep in the recesses of Jisoo’s junk drawer, is a faded lavender envelope with a pressed cream colored baby’s breath taped up in plastic. The glue is yellow and old, clearly served its purpose due to the fact that the letter is already opened and the contents rumpled.

Hey Pretty Girl–

He immediately stuffs the letter back in its holder, stricken at his messy handwriting from two years ago. It feels like he found a time capsule, another version of Jungkook confessing to you. He used to call you Pretty Girl, not enough for you to catch on to his feelings, but enough for you to understand that he did find you attractive. It was early on in your friendship.

When you first asked him to be study partners for some silly class that had nothing to do with each other’s majors, he gaped like a guppy and pointed to himself. That day he went to class in last night’s clothes and a nest of fluffy strands. “Me?” he felt like absolute trash, and you were probably desperate due to the fact you two were the only seniors in this class, “but you’re a pretty girl… and I’m pretty dumb when it comes to this subject.”

But instead you scoffed and pulled him from his slumped figure, dragging him to the library, with a wink and a “you’re pretty, too.” Those words have burned in his brain since then, as he wasn’t used to getting such off-handed compliments, especially from intelligent girls that wanted more than one night.

For whatever reason you continued seeing his dumb self, even after the semester ended and together registered for one more class for spring.

Whenever you’d go out for ice cream you wouldn’t hesitate to stuff your face and add for extra Oreos and fries, you’d assure Jungkook you’re not normally this much of a slob.

Jungkook would just smile and offer you a napkin and say, “You’re still a pretty girl.”

He fell for you gracefully. There was no regret, no walk of shame, no cliché late night party where you or him could’ve instigated it into the physical. It was all by feel.

However the two of you took your time with your relationship, languidly enjoying the hushed conversations in the library at 2AM, the late night McFlurry runs, the integration of each other’s friends like it was natural. Ergo the lavender love letter. It was a gentle declaration, one he felt pretty confident in.

So color him stupid when you passed him in class with a happy wave, Jungkook dumbfounded at how well you handled his confession. You weren’t oblivious, you just never read it.

But now he knows the declaration was for whatever reason, lost in transit. “I should’ve known,” he whispers in the air, the letter crumpling in his grip. Composing himself, he pinches his brows.

There’s an electronic buzz and a sharp slam of the front door. Judging by the time, you’re home.

You flop onto your mattress, folding an arm over your head to stop the sun from seeping to your eyes. Vernon’s exhausted you, and you barely got away before he could have any say in it. You need a little space, and some time to think.

Just as you close the door to your bedroom, it swings open.

You gape as Jungkook thrusts himself into your bedroom like a deer with horns, looking pale. You follow his gaze, darkened eyes that linger a little too long on your neck again, and you narrow your eyes at him to avert. He looks a little red in the cheeks despite his pallidness, looking like he just got out of bed with messy wavy locks and his signature sweats. Is Jungkook packing for Jisoo again?

Acutely aware that you smell like sweat and sex, you clutch the blankets closer to your body. “Uh, rude.”

He looks uncharastically frantic, waving a letter in his hand, “Did you ever read this?”

“Read what?” you ask, hands reaching out for the envelope.

“My confession letter,” he blurts, having no shame now that all the gears are running through his head. “I wrote you a letter asking you out, because you said you wanted to collect notes like in Letters to Juliet. But I just found it in Jisoo’s drawer, why would it be there?”

And all the pent up frustration that never seemed to escape under Vernon’s sheets, the feelings that never seem to subside, all bubble back to the surface. Now that Jungkook knows, there’s no hiding.

You’re in shock, hands reaching for the letter despite the burn that seeps through your fingertips. Jungkook’s shoulders slump when you do indeed look like it’s your first time seeing this, as if a missing puzzle piece in your timeline has finally been revealed.

“I, I didn’t think you’d write me a letter,” you take the lavender envelope, clutching the letter by your chest like it’s something precious, “that’s so sweet,” you say to yourself.

It dawns on him, “Wait, you knew about this? I knew something weird was going on.”

“Only recently,” you frown.

“And you didn’t think to tell me?” he nearly shouts, causing you to flinch, “no wonder why you were being so weird all this time. How could you let me live the rest of my life knowing this? That my relationship is built on a lie? ”

“I don’t know,” you suddenly feel very small in your mattress as Jungkook rounds up on you, pulling your desk chair closer to your bed, “because you love Jisoo, of course.”

“Well obviously that’s not possible,” and while yes a two-year realtionship ending like this is going to hit him hard tonight, he’s focused on you and the fact that you failed to tell him, “somehow I’d find out. Why wait for me to find out on my own?”

“Because I wanted to protect you!”

“Protect me,” he scoffs, crossing his arms and sneering at you. It causes you to tense up, feeling the telltale signs of tears bubbling to the surface, “you don’t even want to be friends anymore, y/n. I’ve tried to catch up to you so many times, but you keep leaving me hanging. I know I’ve been a pretty bad friend and I get it if you just feel awkward that I liked you, then that’s a shitty reason.”

“Have you ever considered that it’s too late to tell you?” you shoot back, sitting up straight, “yes, I admit I should’ve told you earlier and I’m sorry, but it was a lot for me to process to y’know? Jisoo and I haven’t talked properly in weeks!”

“Oh, so you’ve stopped trying to be friends with Jisoo too, huh? Just like you’re trying to stop being friends with me.”

“No,” you pinch your brows, “she stopped being friends with me! She doesn’t care about me because she has you,” conflict burns in Jungkook’s gaze, and you only serve to fuel the fire, “she’s tried so hard to not involve me in your relationship.”

“Just tell me why you’ve really kept this secret instead of saying you want to protect me like a baby—”

“It’s because I’m in love with you, idiot!”

You blink and back up against the wall of your bedroom, as if you can’t believe that the words came out of your mouth.

It’s quiet again. The sour look evaporates from Jungkook’s face as he watches you suppress your sobs on your mattress. The room seems devoid, sucked out of its color as you’ve cleaned up most of your things, the only thing left being some plain grey sheets and a pillow.

Jungkook’s mind is absolutely reeling, playing back memories from a different point of view.

“When Jisoo told me she sabotaged our relationship so she could date you, I was so upset and didn’t know what to think,” you manage to place the lavender note on your wooden desk, making sure no tears could mar it. “And I thought I could move on and eventually stay friends with the both of you, but the next day Jisoo put all her attention on you and completely ignored me or any attempt to salvage our friendship. She only told me to forgive herself,” you’re hugging yourself, wrapping the blankets around you like a weak embrace, “so I thought if I cut myself out of the picture and forced myself to move on like I should’ve, everything would’ve been okay.”

“So, you would’ve rather kept all this pain to yourself?”

“Yeah,” you give him a teary smile, “because I wanted you to be happy.”

And with an equally sad smile he murmurs, “But I’m not happy.”

Your face falls, and you really look at Jungkook. He’s exhausted as well, slumped in his chair. Has he been trying to grapple along the threads of his relationships, while you’ve been trying to loosen them?

“What a waste of two years,” he slumps in your chair, letting the pieces click into place, “a relationship built on fake love. I was really trying, y’know. I thought I was going crazy.”

The three of you have unknowingly been playing a futile game of Cat’s Cradle, a game that no one wins.

Jungkook looks wistfully out the window, noting the pleasant day that fails to present itself in your tiny room. It feels simultaneously satisfying and bitter when it falls into place, your thoughts finally fitting together for the first time in months. “We could’ve loved each other. For real,” he says, and you silently agree.

You’re still crying, shaking like a leaf in autumn. Jungkook’s arms hover awkwardly over yours, his warmth palpable despite the fact that he hasn’t touched you yet. With a timid smile you allow consent, and you melt like putty in his arms.

“Kookie, ‘m so sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” you murmur into his shoulder, not caring if it hurts when you press your chin into his skin. “I’m sorry you had to find out this way.”

It’s been so long to have him close like this, the friend you’ve always wanted but never needed. Since college you’ve always imagined a life without him doing just fine, but that doesn’t mean you want to live without him, roommate’s boyfriend or not.

“I’m sorry too,” he sighs back, “this sucks right now, but we’ll be alright.”

The two of you sit in your room until it turns dark and the sky muddles into shades of twilight and egg yolk orange. There’s lulls in the conversation, the two of you filling in the gaps and making sense of the mumbo-jumbo that’s been going on in your consciousness up until this point. Your insantities turn sane, and by the time Jisoo’s making her way back inside with the smell of pad thai, Jungkook is ready. With a squeeze to each other and a press of your lips because you don’t know what to say, you tuck yourself in and pretend to fall asleep.

“Messy, messy, messy,” Vernon sing-songs, knocking his heels against the wall.

The both of you are sitting upside-down, butts attached to the wall connecting to his mattress and your feet hanging in the air. Your mint floral organza socks pad against his Pink Floyd poster, while his yellow tube socks are heeling against some old Polaroids from college. There’s no prospect of sex today, not when shit just hit the fan.

Today you and Vernon are just two old friends and very close co-workers.

“Tell me about it,” you bemoan, frowning at the beige wall, “this whole week’s just been a whole mess. It’s like, warm tuna salad.”

“Gross,” Vernon grimaces at the apt comparison, “so what happens now?”

You sit up on your elbows, looking down at Vernon’s peaceful expression, “What do you mean?”

“Like, are you gonna get together with him?”

You snort, flopping back down on his bed. The blankets fluff around you and you inhale the pine scented sheets. “After all that? No.”

“But you still love him?”

It must sound dumb to still love him after all this time. You wouldn’t be surprised if Vernon thought you’re silly to still hold a place in your heart for someone who has fifteen million things on their plate now. After all the physicality and the space Vernon gave you in his home, your feelings haven’t wavered.

Your companion doesn’t bother waiting for your answer, hearing your answer somewhere in the air as he gets up and throws on his denim jacket. Rolling over your stomach you ask, “Where are you going?”

“Some friends down in printing want to meet up for drinks,” Vernon messes up his hair, making the waves part in that little coiff that makes his jawline look sharp. “I heard Yerin really wanted me to come, so.”

You can’t help the little middle school coo that comes from your lips, causing Vernon to giggle and throw a pillow at you. “Yerin’s cute!” you declare, remembering the petite girl in overalls who’s all about pops of yellow and violet, “you're into her?”

“Nah,” Vernon holds up two hats in his hands, gesturing for you to pick one. “Just figured it was a push in the right direction.”

Crawling out of his bed you stumble in your oversized t-shirt, tucking a finger under your chin as you decide between the emerald bucket hat and the red Ralph Lauren baseball cap. You pull out both hats from his hands and set it down on his vanity, opting to smooth out the flyaways and ringing your fingers through his soft curls. “And what direction would my free-flowing friend be going today?” you ask aloud, “you look better with your hair out,” you declare firmly, “makes you look like a fluffy CEO.”

He laughs at your silly comparison, and he gently moves your hand away from his hair when you linger a little too close to him. His gaze is solemn as he regards you with a gentle smile, “Keep your distance, I’m tryna get over someone,” he says simply, and your arm falls limp at your sides.

Your heart thuds in a different direction, your mouth parting but no words coming to the surface. When was the last time you asked about Vernon’s needs, wondered if he was doing alright, making sure you two were on the same page—

“You’re spiraling,” he reads you like a playbook, smoothing down your hair to press a kiss to the crown. Suddenly you feel guilty for not having sparks in your belly, shaming your conscience for not even considering his sacrifices in your self-absorption these past few weeks. “Like I said, I wanted to help you. Stop looking like a kicked puppy, it’s okay to be selfish.”

With transparent tears the two of you pack up and head to your next destination. Hands ghosting between each other you make your way to the exit of Vernon’s apartment, him to meet up with his friends while you have to unpack your new apartment. With a hug you tell each other you’ll see them on Monday, and as easy as that you go your separate ways.

Hey Pretty Girl—

I kinda wanted to tell you this in person but I know how much you liked Mamma Mia and all those other movies that have grand gestures in writing so I thought hey, might as well shoot my shot on paper.

Not gonna tell you all the details, because you deserve to hear it in-person. But mayhaps this letter has something to do with how much I like studying with you, watching movies with you, doing absolutely nothing with you and all of that in-between.

There’s a gift card to our spot attached. Meet me at McDonalds @12 tonight, so I know it’s real 😎

Hopefully yours, Jungkook

P.S. if you haven’t noticed already, I sprayed a little cologne and stole Taehyung’s fancy paper from Muji. That’s how serious I am about you.

“Joon, we live in a bonsai garden. We’re like giants in a forest.”

“Can you—can you stop spitting at them? Let them breathe, dammit.”

“Not my fault they’re so tiny! I literally have to zoom 200% just to get a good look at ‘em.”

The two of you are huddled in what used to be Namjoon’s balcony, now a sunroom for his succulents and bonsais. Your heart feels pink and swollen with affection as you regard Namjoon with interest, absorbing every bit of information you can as he teaches you how to care for his plants. After all, you’re co-parenting now.

Having your Wusband co-sign as your roommate for the next year is probably the best decision you have made this year. Everyday is like a breath of fresh air. With Seokjin gone for the year to tour his restaurant franchises, his room is yours for the taking. The two of you are easy going roommates, filling the apartment with color and vigour whether it be in the form of baking sweets or watching Netflix documentaries.

The only drama you ever have is when you two are having a meltdown over the same work-related issue, as if you two somehow share the same brain cell. It’s significantly less stressful, no need for unnecessary anger when you have someone as mediating as Namjoon.

After today’s plant lesson, you two go back to the living room to finish up your work for the evening. Another perk of living together is that you can go home at normal work times and continue where you left off with the comfort of your couch and eating a whole pizza pie with no shame.

Namjoon’s phone pings with a new email from corporate. “We got the new concept for next month’s spread,” he gestures to you with a grandiose wave of his arm, “drumroll please.”

He pulls up the newsletter from corporate with a flick of his thumb. Your company put out every month’s concept out in an Evite, like every month was a themed party. A stressful, month long work party. In seconds, the page loaded and you’re met with next month’s title bathed in electronic glitter.

The Most Beautiful Moment in Life: Class of Youth

The two of you say silent, absorbing the concept like a cookie to milk. It’s a personal spread this month, a real treat for the team to show off their normal non-professional life. A spread that reveals the masters behind the ink and text. Last year’s personal spread was about the staff’s vacation destinations, but this year’s is much more intimate. You can imagine all the ideas that will be thrown around on Monday’s meeting: pinning down shared ideas like Throwback Thursdays, late night munchie runs, drunk stories, and all the crazy college nostalgia that you’ve been trying to avoid as of late.

But now it’s presented to you in a gold chalice, and while you’re sick of the past you think it’s about time to face it. You’re excited to tackle the dark monster you’ve suppressed since Jungkook and Jisoo’s breakup.

“Did I ever tell you I was president of my university’s Mock Trial?”

“No, I always thought you’d be president of the Comparative Literature Club or whatever. But Mock Trial is equally as nerdy.”

“I’ll have you know Mock Trial got me tons of action,” he winked, “made me very convincing.”

“Gross,” you sneer, “so that’s what your spread will be about? How the co-editor of the Arts & Entertainment section managed to bag with his skills from Mock Trial?”

“Nah, I went on a penniless journey with Jin during spring break. Six days around Malta.”

“That does sound so you,” you sigh, fingers slipping between the cracked screen as you mull over the overly happy Evite, “sounds like a cool story.”

“I know that look,” Namjoon quips, snatching his phone under his nose, “don’t overthink your spread just yet, it’s still the weekend. Now to more important things, what do you want from Taco Bell?”

And because you can’t refuse the combined efforts of nachos and Namjoon’s dimples, you relent for the night and tack the unmade idea to the next workday.

Unfortunately the next workday is just as disheartening. Today’s work meeting is the antithesis of icing on the cake. While your college life isn’t anything remarkable, you didn’t think it was a painfully dull time. With every passing moment and every excited co-worker throwing memories back and forth like ping pong balls, the more you felt inferior by competing with their amazing memories.

“Who can even afford Aruba at twenty-one,” you mutter under your breath, stalking back to your cubicle.

Filling up a whole spread is daunting to you, the thought of Victoria popping her head in your cubicle to ask what you’ve got for the day is practically eating you from the inside out. Maybe your college life was in actuality, super boring? You have no crazy drug trips to tell, any vacations that gave you a life-changing perspective, or an epic love story.

“What’cha got there, partner?”

The third musketeer of your editing team’s caramel eyes peer into your cubicle, causing you to jump in your chair. Vernon wheels around, chair and all to push you into your already cramped space. His gold button up gleams in the sunlight, effectively blinding you.

“If by something you mean nothing, then yeah I got nothing,” you frown, spinning around your chair. “What are you writing about?”

A fond smile melts onto your friend’s face, and you can’t help returning a smile that mirrors his own. You two have fallen back into a good place, as far as you know. He’s still easy, simple, sweet Vernon. When you dropped some boxes off in coloring, you heard that Vernon and Yerin have recently started seeing each other.

“Thought of the idea as soon as the Evite came out. It’s more of a photo spread, but I’m gonna write about my study abroad in NYU,” Vernon ticks a pencil on his forehead, “a self-identity piece talking about how I felt like, not-white around my family n’stuff. And then felt not-Asian at the same time, s’complicated but I think I can make it work.”

“Deep,” you pat his shoulder caringly, knowing that Big Hit is a good outlet for these kinds of subjects, “alright City Slicker, since you’re so full of ideas then tell me what to write about.”

Vernon sits up straight, regarding you with narrowed eyes, “Aren’t you gonna write about your little love triangle with Jisoo and Jungkook?” and it seems like he’s already storyboarded the idea in his head, gesturing to the air as if he’s writing down a timeline, “I can see the headline now: How to Steal a Heart,” he’s grinning, nodding fervently as you cross your arms in distaste.

“Vern, are you suggesting that I exploit Jisoo and Jungkook’s personal lives?” while the journalism business didn’t pride itself on sincerity, it did feel wrong to drag in your personal life to that extent.

“Babe, you don’t understand. You have the perfect slice of life story. Everyone’s writing about expensive vacations and that one time they got cross-faded and ended up in Busan,” he squeezes your hand, “but your story, it’s relatable. It’s romantic. It’s angsty. It has closure. No one’s gonna be able to relate to an impulse spending on daddy’s money to Aruba. But first loves? Unrequited romance and all that ish? Everyone can speak to that. And you’re a beautiful writer, they’ll eat up that story like honey.”

“I don’t know, it still doesn’t feel right.”

“Change up the names, twist the story,” he offers easily, knowing you’d put up a fight, “besides, it’s not like you’re planning on talking to Jisoo or Jungkook ever again,” you open your mouth to retort, but Vernon’s phone beeps to the Star Wars theme song and he’s flying out of his chair. “Shoot, gotta go help Joon upstairs. Just think about it, okay? Good luck!” and he’s kicking his chair out with a brown loafer, leaving you with breathing room in your cubicle.

Five seconds later Vernon is jogging back, pointing a finger at you, “And if you do choose to write it, you have to add that Jisoo copped your McDonalds gift card. Like, who does that shit? Couldn’t she have just given it to you and say it was from her and not Jungkook? Seriously fucked up.”

For the next ten or so minutes you mull. Out of all the memorable college events you’ve participated in, the largest one by far is your (now defunct and debatable) friendship with Jisoo, and your (un)requited love for Jungkook. Reluctantly, you must admit Vernon has a sharp idea, busting in like a hero and offering you the most writable piece on a silver platter.

It doesn’t feel morally right just to start writing, because ultimately you can’t feel comfortable until you get the consent of Jungkook. While you don’t want to touch Jisoo with a ten-meter pole, you do want to start talking to Jungkook again now that the waters have calmed.

Your life has moved gracefully up until this point, and you’d like to start being friends with him again. Decision made, you pull out your phone and make an important call.

“Hey Yoongi,” you say nervously. Min Yoongi is Kim Namjoon’s equivalent, Jungkook’s Wusband and former upperclassmen in college.

Said man hums noncommittally on the other line, “Whaddya want, it’s been awhile.”

You stifle a giggle at his apathetic attitude, knowing he’s someone who wastes no time in getting straight to the point. “I just wanna make sure Jungkook’s address is still the same? I know it’s been a couple months, but I need to send him something and I wanna make sure it gets to him ASAP because—”

“Because last time something was sent, your crazy roommate intervened and Jungkook ended up in a two-year half-toxic relationship? Yeah, let’s make sure that doesn’t happen again.”

“Yoongi,” you say slowly, “where are you?”

“Working in the studio,” he tuts, “Jungkook says hi, by the way.”

Typical, cat’s out of the bag. With a roll of our eyes you reply, “Thanks for outing me, Yoongi. Talk to you later.”

“And y/n? Jungkook says he’s waiting.”

With a stupid smile slapped onto your face, you hang up the phone and pull out your stationary kit from under your desk. You pluck out a vermillion red envelope, a color so bold and begging to be seen, you know it can’t possibly get lost in transit. Feeling a little bit like a high schooler as you pull out a glitter jelly pen, you get to writing.

Hey Pretty Boy...

Jungkook and Jisoo are no longer together, evidently.

Their social media runs in different directions, with Jisoo sporting absolute elegance in her work at her family-owned boutique. Her posts are full of shiny outfits and soulless gazes, betraying any pinch of emotion she may have felt over these past few months. Her profile is wiped of any personal posts, all traces of you and Jungkook evaporated from her page. You must admit that she looks good, like a real fashion mogul, but only at the surface level.

Conversely, Jungkook is thriving. It’s evident. Normally he isn’t the type of guy to post so frequently, his habits being often sporadic and limited to sweaty gym stories. But whenever you scroll, it’s pictures of him smiling. Big bunny teeth broken into a genuine, full-bellied laugh. Cute selfies of him and his co-workers. You notice two familiar co-workers in those posts, Irene and Seulgi, two beautiful women Jisoo always felt intimidated by whenever she ranted to you. You conclude positively that Jungkook doesn’t feel tethered and can hang out with all the friends he wants, female and male alike. Jungkook looks free, and you’re happy for him.

It’s another Instagram-worthy moment tonight at McDonalds, where you and Jungkook proposed to meet each other at 12AM.

This time, the letter makes it to its desired destination. You make sure of that because this time you hand-deliver it, slipping under his apartment door knowing he lives alone and no one would be able to access it except him.

You’re parked in an obscure corner, but you can see that Jungkook is currently having a great time with his co-workers for an after work meal. Yoongi is unbothered on his phone, while Jimin and Seulgi are taking turns throwing fries into each other’s mouth. Jungkook is squished between them, scrunching his nose cutely as he tries not to get in the fray of their fry-war.

Your phone pings, and you laugh at what pops up on the screen.

Yoongi: come inside, u loser.

You: can’t ur friend group makes me nervous stop being so dang cute

You: dw i’ll wait, it’s only 11:50

Instead of replying, Yoongi puts his phone down and resumes eating. In turn you pick a playlist, deciding that “summer time high mix✨✨✨” is a theme you need to subscribe to for the rest of the weekend.

Busying yourself by sending some texts to Namjoon and checking some emails, you relax in your seat as you let your brain turn to sludge for the weekend. You’re tired, eyes glazing over as you watch Yoongi elbow Jungkook harshly, forcing him to look out the foggy window.

Jungkook’s eyes light up like it’s Christmas Eve, but instead of Christmas lights it's your car’s lowlights. The graphic designer pays no mind to his friends as they wish him goodbye and goodluck, throwing on his jacket with a wave.

The night air whizzes by, Jungkook’s floppy black strands bouncing with each step as he bounds to your car. He throws your door open, bringing in the cold air as he regards you as easily as an old friend would.

“Hi,” he chirps, placing his tattooed palms by the air vent, “c’mon, let’s order.”

“You know, you could’ve ordered inside and brought it in here.”

“Yeah but then it would take longer to get to you,” the cheeky grin that Jungkook throws at you is unmistakable, “c’mon, get out the car and let’s switch.”

“Huh?”

“You look tired, you didn’t come back from the office again, did you?”

“I did tonight,” you say, “I just really wanted to get the soft copy of the article done and—”

“Out, out!” Jungkook clicks your seatbelt off and he’s coming out of the passenger side, opening your car and pulling you out by the hand, “c’mon, I’ll drive.”

You shake your head, hiding your smile in your hand as you let Jungkook do what he wants. Normally you’d be insulted that anyone suggests they should drive your car but Jungkook would always drive you around, saying he loved long rides. Above all, if you could trust anyone to drive your car, Jungkook is at the top of the list.

Buckling in, you bite the inside of your cheek as Jungkook easily pulls out of the parking spot one-handed. His jacket is pulled up to his elbows, exposing his veins as he expertly whirls the wheel in the direction of the drive-thru. Since college he’s always looked very attractive driving.

Doesn’t mean you have to act like you’re still in college. You tamp those feelings down, knowing that your article probably has you feeling stuck in time.

“—coming along?”

“Wha?”

“I said, how’s the spread coming along?”

“It’s pretty much done, I think. I’ll send you the hard copy when it’s ready,” you tap your fingers against the dashboard, “but are you sure you’re okay with me writing it? I know I’m using a pseudonym and everything for you two but I still feel weird—”

“It’s fine, I think it’s a good thing,” and you still squirm in your seat when he flashes you a genuine smile, “I mean, it kinda is a funny story and I think it’s good for both of us. Like closure, y’know? Moving on and—hi, can I get two Oreo McFlurrys and a large fry? Thanks!” he pulls out his wallet to scan the total on the e-reader. “I mean, didn’t it feel good writing it?”

“Yeah,” you replied honestly, relaxing in your seat, “like, college was fun and all, but when Jisoo kinda ruined all that… after awhile I didn’t think it was ruined after all, y’know? I still made amazing friends and ended up where I wanted to be. I want to show the readers that shit happens, and that’s okay. And if things are really meant to be, they’re meant to be.”

The summer playlist hums in the background as Jungkook pulls up to the pick-up window. He thanks the worker and hands you the tray, and you make quick work to put the fries in the first cup holder for optimal sharing. He doesn’t park at McDonalds, but instead smoothly pulls out of the restaurant into the direction of his apartment. It isn’t a particularly long drive, but you figure it would be easier for Jungkook to go home first if you’re already parked at his complex.

“What do you mean by that?” Jungkook parks in the driveway of his apartment, taking his McFlurry from your hands.

“Mean by what?”

“If things are really meant to be, they’re meant to be.”

“Well, we’re here now, right?”

Jungkook pops his spoon in, swallowing vanilla and a silly smile through his coral pink lips, “We’re here now,” he repeats.

The night air is cool and your conversation is warm. You promise Jungkook that you’ll send him the final copy of your spread as soon as it’s done, and you two eagerly deviate away from the past and focus on the present.

You can’t help the eagerness that flows between you, as if you’ve never spent time apart like this and it’s only now that you’re reuniting. It must be absence that makes the heart grow fonder, because you swell with affection and you find Jungkook’s presence sweeter than any kind of ice cream.

Are you dating now? Maybe. You and Jungkook are going on dates, everything without the title. McFlurry runs, marathons of HGTV’s Design on a Dime, having lunch at each other’s respective buildings with the Wusbands. Whether these dates are exclusive or not is unknown, but you figure the question will present yourself one way or another.

You’re in a good place right now, potential relationship or not. After all, your priorities are simultaneously positive and in order: family, work, friends, and any potential romantic trysts are at the very bottom. You could kiss the cover of this month’s issue (and trust, you have kissed your own copy multiple times) if it is not for the fact that this specific issue is for Jungkook.

So, romantic trysts and friends have a tendency to flip-flop on your priority list, but only because it’s Jungkook.

Unsurprisingly, there’s no guilt knowing that you’re dating your former best friend's ex-boyfriend.

After a much deserved early work day, Namjoon and the crew arrange a hearty happy-hour filled with good food and enough relaxation to last the weekend. With your combined successes, your team felt like they made the best issue yet. At the heart of it, The Most Beautiful Moment in Life: Class of Youth became a reckoning of each other’s young life. Despite the love and the growth that occurred from your college years up until this point, you’re glad to close that chapter and move forward.

You did not tell Jungkook when the issue would come out, so you think it’ll be a fun surprise for him when he sees it magically show up at his apartment. Bending down you move to slip the issue under his door, one hand pushing it under while one hand braces against the frame to steady your balance.

Just as the shiny cover glides under the door it swings open, and you fall flat on Jungkook’s feet.

Being the little shit he is, he simply giggles at the blunder, looking at you with excited eyes. “I’ve been waiting for you,” he says.

“Creepy as hell, Jeon,” you mutter under your breath, brushing the dirt off your aqua pencil skirt. Looking at him from your spot on the floor and his large height, you grimace. “You look like a middle-aged serial killer looking outside your peephole.”

“Now, we know that’s not true.” he finally offers his hand, easily pulling you up to your feet. You follow him into his kitchen, where he’s cutting up fresh fruit. He throws your issue on the counter, gentle enough so it doesn’t slide off the granite. He gestures to himself with both hands, “me, a dashingly handsome late twenty-something in Nike sweats who can bench-press two of you? Totally not a middle-aged serial killer.”

“It’s in the eyes,” you chastise, “you look crazy.”

“Maybe I’m just crazy excited to see you,” he says with a cheeky grin.

You try your best not to choke on your spit at the cheeseball comment, throwing a blackberry in your mouth. Savoring the burst of tart flavor that fills your mouth, you wait for Jungkook to plate the fruit before meeting him on the couch. He’s holding a prettily arranged plate of berries, bananas, and mango with a huge dollop of whipped cream in the middle. In his other hand is Big Hit’s magazine.

Throwing your blazer on the couch’s arm you don’t hesitate to cuddle up next to him, eagerly waiting for him to read your spread.

The cover gazes back at the two of you like a reflection. The entirety of the staff is posed on the cover, made to look like a class photo. Some of you are holding balloons in your respective school colors, many of you grouping up with whoever happened to go to college together. You and Vernon are wearing matching university sweaters with silly grins on your faces. In the middle of the issue is the editor-in-chief, Victoria Song holding a placard that reads: Class of Youth.

Jungkook spares you a glance from the corner of his eye, your head naturally tucked into his shoulder. With an exaggerated sigh, he fiddles through the glossy pages, “Hmm, which one should I read first?”

“Of course you’ll read mine first,” you pout.

“Ah, Namjoon’s looks really fun. Or Vernon’s? New York looks pretty cool,” he flips to a random page, “wait, Yerin’s spread is a Korean cookbook! I definitely want to make some tuna rice...”

“Jungkook,” you whine, “read mine.”

“I don’t know,” he taps his finger on his lip, “I mean, I pretty much know your spread because I’m already in it. It would be kind of redundant to read it.”

“Kook, you’re being mean,” you glower, rubbing your cheek against his soft sweater. He’s just so damn comfy.

“I’m kidding,” he tugs at your cheek, “where’s the table of contents, first page?”

“I’m on page eighty-three.”

You speed up the process like an impatient child, leaning over to brush the pages to the desired spread. You even dog-earred it, a habit that drives Jungkook crazy as he immediately fiddles to iron out the crease.

“Are you gonna read it to me too, mom?” he teases.

“Okay fine! I’ll be quiet, but don’t take too long.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Eyes fluttering, you let Jungkook take his time to absorb your piece. A roommate by any other (rude) name: the lost letter. A cheesy, gimmicky title that Victoria insisted upon that you had no choice but relent to. The rest of the spread thankfully has a very authentic edge to it, your story laced with photos of you and Jungkook, your internship with Vernon, and most importantly, a scan of the lavender letter that got left in the past.

Jungkook’s not silent through his read-through, either. He laughs at all the right parts, fueling your ego as his smile grows at your favorite lines. While he doesn’t directly engage in conversation, his positive energy is enough for you to make you feel like you’ve done your job right. It’s one thing to write about unknown celebrities and unnamed artists, but for people like Jungkook, the validation is personal.

“It’s beautiful,” Jungkook says when he’s read it thrice through, running his thumb over a picture of you. “Really organic. Really, real.”

“Really?”

“Really,” he chuckles, having run out of adverbs. “It’s funny, too. I liked your little internal monologue. I wish I knew how you felt back then.”

“I wish you did, too.”

You’re quietly munching on a strawberry, looking over a polaroid Jungkook took. It was sometime in the beginning of senior year, where you’ve fallen asleep on his mattress, drool drying on your mouth. Normally you’d be opposed to having such unflattering, grainy pictures amongst your writing, but it encapsulates the youth you’ve tried so hard to chase away.

“How do you feel?” Jungkook says, switching out the magazine for the plate of fruit, placing it on his side.

“Feel great, actually,” you muse, smiling to yourself. By no means are you a hero writing some grand gesture in an entertainment magazine, but you feel like you’ve saved yourself. You’ve savored your youth in four thousand words, cutting out the poison and keeping the moment as sweet as it can be.

“I’m proud of you,” he reaches to ruffle your hair, and you don’t even get mad when it tousles out of your pinned style.

Reveling in the attention, you simply close your eyes and feed yourself a handful of blueberries.

“Love that I make money, but I definitely miss college from time to time,” Jungkook stretches, jostling you out of your comfortable position. “Like I remember Taehyung and I would take turns bringing backpacks to the dining hall so we could stuff fruit in it for later.”

“Yeah, but as much as I loved college I wouldn’t go back,” you nod to yourself, “I’m happy where I am now.”

“What about when we stayed up for midnight breakfast? The dining hall was filled to the brim with food. Remember when I tried to eat a whole stack of pancakes?”

“Jungkook…”

“Or when our classes got cancelled and we went to Lotte World? You ate way too much funnel cake and I had to carry you to the car!”

“Jungkook—”

“And that one time we snuck out to the music hall’s rooftop?” words gush out of Jungkook’s mouth like a waterfall, unable to relent, “that’s when I realized I liked you. I liked you so much, I tried to tell you that night but choked—”

“Jungkook!” and he immediately zips up, frowning. You straighten up, on your knees as you reach over to run your hands through his onyx tresses, moving the styled strands to the back of his pierced ears, “Jungkook,” you repeat softly, “I’ve heard all these stories, I was there for most of them. As much as I love the past… can we talk about something else?” you give him a small, tentative smile to show him you’re not mad, but a little uncomfortable at his reminiscing.

He leans into your touch, pressing your palm against the soft swell of his warm cheek. “Okay,” he agrees, resting one hand on your thigh.

You’re roped in his gaze, and you have to force yourself to breathe when Jungkook moves closer to you. He hooks a leg behind his back, and another across his lap. A cool breeze kisses your inner thighs when your skirt exposes your cotton underwear. You should be embarrassed but instead you’re fixated, unable to understand what he’s trying to accomplish.

“Then I’m gonna talk about the future,” Jungkook traps you between the couch, his thumb running hot circles to where your skirt has hiked up. It exposes a slip of the thigh that Jungkook has seen a million times. He’s seen you walking around your apartment in a large shirt, ridden up to your boyshorts. It’s different now, you feel exposed and tingly, thrumming with excitement. “I like you, obviously anticipated news and old news. I can’t stop thinking about how much I want to go on dates with you, re-watch Avatar, grumble when I force you to come to the gym with me,” he bumps noses with you when you scrunch yours, “I wanna be with you. Heck, I’ve even cleared space in my spare room so you’d have closet space for all your fancy designer suits if you ever need it.”

“You cleared space?” you manage to choke out. Visions of a shared apartment roll through your brain. Cooking meals together, having two toothbrushes side by side, and waking up to his face.

“Of course I did. Do you know how financially attractive you are?” he says lightheartedly, “you’re a sexy working woman and it’s crazy to imagine you’d want to settle for me and my little apartment. But I have to try now because if I don’t, it’ll be too late.”

“That’s not true,” you retort, “you’re not someone I’d settle for. I want you, and no one else.”

He chuckles, running a thumb over your cheek. “Then what are we waiting for? Your key’s hiding under the mat.”

“Jungkook…” on the tip of your tongue lays the words you’re going too fast but it doesn’t make its way to the air.

“But do you really think it’s too fast?” he reads your face clearly, “these feelings never went anywhere. They were locked away, sure. And I loved her,” he can’t even say the name, not when you’re warm and flush against him, “but I loved our friendship more.”

“I… I don’t know what to say,” you breathe, letting the cogs in your brain roll until sparks develop.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he concedes, “I just wanted to let you know. Could’ve done the letter thing all over again and let the past repeat itself. I know Namjoon wouldn’t hide a love letter for two years, but if I left another damn letter he’d definitely make a copy and tease me about it.”

You snort, pressing your forehead to his. You’re practically buried in the couch now, tingly and vibrating with happiness. “And I’m not going to leave you hanging. I do want to say something,” and he looks at you expectantly, licking the leftover berry juice on his lips, nearly making you miss your train of thought, “I like you too,” you say, the other L-word is also applicable, but you feel like that phrase is reserved for another time, “I want to show you off on work vacations, bring you along as my date and show them you’re my muse,” you confess, “I wanna play video games with you ‘till 2AM, and eat ice cream in the comfort of our apartment instead of our cars because we’re too stubborn to admit we don’t wanna go home without each other.”

Jungkook absolutely preens at the affection, sending you a heart melting smile that has your stomach doing backflips.

“Jungkook, I want to fall in love with you again.”

Your squeal of surprise is swallowed by Jungkook’s lips, tasting of mangoes and berries as strong hands cup your backside, easily lifting you onto his lap. You plop under his strong thighs, feeling them flex against yours. The both of you are pouring in this kiss, raining with promises and hopes for a future with each other. His taste is concentrated, and you can feel the devotion practically injected in his embrace.

When he pulls away his lips are cherry-red and shiny, looking up at you through clear coffee eyes. “This isn’t a dream, right?” he looks at you up and down, unable to decipher fact from fiction, “because I distinctly remember two wet dreams that involve you looking like this.”

Looking down, you heat at the disarray you’re in. Hair wild and parted in different wavelengths, tired of the day’s efforts. Your slightly sheer dress-shirt is rumpled, the lace collar opened with two popped buttons revealing your cleavage, and your skirt is stretched so tight that it’s ruched all the way up your thighs. Sprawled across Jungkook’s lap, you’re dangerously close to something long and hard.

Emboldened, you clutch at Jungkook’s collar, pulling him closer.

“Show me what happens in your dream,” you whisper into his ear, barely brushing your clothed core against his crotch, “maybe we can make it come true tonight.”

You can’t see his face, but you feel something dark and sensual overtake him. The grip on your ass tightens, a delicious pain that has you pressing your breasts against him and nipping on his ear, your tongue darting sensually through the cold silver hoops that dart through his skin.

Within seconds, he rips you away from his neck and demands, “Open.”

Dazed, you barely get a centimeter of your mouth open when Jungkook presses something cold and sugary against your lips. Whipped cream. You manage to take a small bite of the tart strawberry that he holds by the viridian stem, rolling the flavor between your mouth as Jungkook paints the leftover whipped cream over your lips. Once he’s satisfied he then creates a white trail that leads to your cleavage.

Better than any dream, his eyes drink you in like the last glass of water in a desert. Your lips are swollen and parted like a baby kitten, covered in the creamy confection. “So pretty,” he exhales, his hot tongue licking from your cleavage to your lips, swallowing the flavor of you and strawberry juice, “such a pretty girl you are, and all mine.”

“Yours,” you submit easily, rolling your hips against his.

At that moment you think you’re meant to fall in love this way. You can’t imagine the shy, fumbly Jungkook and your equally confused self waltzing around a relationship when you barely had your lives together. The two of you still had growing to do. The wait is certainly worth it, because as you feel his arms tighten around you, you’re sure this love will stay strong.

It’s difficult for you to find a rhythm at first, what with Jungkook’s strength and need to be satiated, both of you are sloppy but the friction is nothing less than delicious. Your finger reaches over to swipe at the leftover cream on the plate, and you press your finger to Jungkook’s mouth, and he immediately complies. A dollop of sweet cream leaks out of his lips and your panties dampen further when you feel his tongue lick you clean, imagaining how good it would feel if it was your pussy he was licking.

Your mouth waters at the feeling of his dick lining up against your core, as sticky as the strawberry juice that clings to your bodies.

“C-can I make a confession? I—oh, Jungkook…” your mind is all fuzzed up when he snaps his hips against yours, causing you to shamelessly bounce on his length.

“Yeah?”

“I… I like it when you use all your strength like that,” his hips slow as your words sink in, but you don’t mind as it gives you time to make a long drag along the entirety of his member. “Everytime you pull me up when I trip, or you come back from a workout, I like it when you carry me around like I weigh nothing.”

“Do—do you think about it a lot?” he grunts, and you stifle a moan when he does a slow, hard drag against your wet folds. “Tell the truth.”

“It’s, it’s embarrassing,” you whimper, unable to think straight with the amount of stimuli you’re receiving.

“Please, baby.”

“Yes mm—oh! I do,” you try to get the words out as quickly as you can. He stops moving, and you groan in frustration so you just lay it all out on the table. “I, I love it when you hold me in your strong arms. And, ah, uh w-henever you come back from the gym you just look so sexy fresh from the shower. Sometimes I think about how you’re too damn nice for your own good but I bet you’d be so rough in bed.”

“Really?” and then he’s shoving you onto the couch, air brushing against your bare thighs as your back hits the beige throw pillows. He’s hovering, dark eyes starting from the tip of your toes to your damp lips. “You like it when I manhandle you? Throw you around like a little doll?”

“All that strength, and for what?” you try to keep your snappy remarks in check, but it’s hard when he’s pressing his straining dick against your thigh, weeping and needy.

“You’re not gonna be joking about my strength anytime soon, baby,” emblazoned, he easily throws your leg over his shoulder, pushing your panties to the side to let your wetness leak out and onto his fingers, “are you gonna complain or be a good girl?”

“Yes, I’m ah—” you wince when he inserts a finger, “I’ll be good for you,”

“My good girl,” he revels in the way you melt under his touch, your previous sarcasm quickly dissolving into a puddle. You always had an inkling that Jungkook would be a sneaky fox in bed, all that muscle hidden behind a kind smile and a penchant for tea with milk and honey.

Jungkook slips in another finger, stretching you and preparing you for what’s to come. He’s scissoring you at a sensible pace that has you squirming and wanting more. To prevent you from shimmying off the couch he holds you down with his free hand, and you love the way he practically feeds you to the couch, hands dancing over your neck as he shoves you further into the furniture.

“You look so gorgeous,” he says, causing you to moan and keen at his attention, “you’re such a strong, gorgeous woman. Having you sprawled out like this, ready to do whatever I want to you is so fucking hot.”

“I’m—I’m only weak for you Jungkook,” you say honestly, tears pricking when he dips another finger. The stretch burns deliciously, and your folds eagerly swallow him up until you’re filled to the brim. Your fingers or toys cannot compare to flesh, and you sigh in relief when you see his inked fingers pick up the pace once more.

“You’re damn right,” Jungkook husks, and with a grain of love he murmurs in your ear, “I’m only weak for you, too.”

And that’s when he snaps, thumb rolling against your bud as he slams his other fingers against you, going at a brutal pace. You cry out, not caring whether his neighbors hear as he pulls you back and forth through pleasure and pain.

“T-too much, Kookie,” you mewl, your hand warbling to find his, “I, ah, ‘m gonna cum!”

“That’s the plan,” he only goes faster, stretching your band further and further before your desired high is reached. His hand trails up to force your chin straight, looking up at him, “let go for me, baby. Wanna feel your pussy clench around my fingers.”

In seconds, you gush. It has you in a slight panic, drunk on endorphins as you try to lift your head up but Jungkook’s hand is firmly pressing you on your shoulder as he fingers you efficiently through your high, the wet squelching sounds only increasing with your cries. His lap is drenched in your arousal, along with his chin and lips glistening with your essence.

He finally releases you when you’re practically shaking, his hands sticky and creamy. You moan when he shamelessly licks them within your view, making sure to wrap his tongue around his ink-stained digits.

“I,” your mouth is dry when you feel the dampness that hits your bottom, “I’ve never, I don’t remember ever—”

Your babbles are lost between your throat and Jungkook’s tongue, shoved deep into your mouth. Tasting your arousal has you practically vibrating in your place, as you two rut against each other like hungry bunnies.

“God, you’re amazing,” he says between pecks, kissing away your face of any tears you may have pricked, “Amazing, adorable, absolutely beautifulIadoreyousoso—”

“Pleasepleaseplease,” you press your hips up, wiggling for more attention, “please fuck me, Jungkook.”

You can’t help the witchy, satisfied smile when Jungkook’s eyes darken to a thick coal, “Anything for you,” he murmurs, swinging your legs between his arms as he lifts you like a feather.

On his lap again, you soon accept that the way you two mesh like puzzle pieces is one of your favorite positions as it gives you both equal space to ravish each other.

Just when your hand trails to the waistband of his boxer briefs and you’re rolling your thumb over its collected moisture, the moment is shattered when the doorbell rings. You jump in his arms, unprepared for your moment to be interrupted.

He groans into the crown of your hair, and you soften in his relaxed hold, “I ordered us pizza,” he nearly forgot.

Perking your head up to look at him you regard him innocently, as if you didn’t release a waterfall on his sweats two seconds ago. “You got us pizza?”

“I knew you’d be coming over tonight,” he’s pouting into your neck, regretting ever having called the pizza guy if he knew this would happen, “Victoria posted the publish date on Twitter. I just didn’t think,” he gestures vaguely to the mess on his pants, “this would happen.”

“Damn, and here I thought I was being sneaky,” you chuckle, flicking his ear playfully.

He gives you an uncharacteristically subby whine, shamelessly upset he has to let you go so fast after he’s given you your first of many highs. Before he weakens further under your beauty, he unceremoniously shoves you off. “Sorry, pretty girl,” you melt at the easy way his pet name rolls off his lips, “can you wait in my room for a bit so I can pay the delivery guy? I don’t want them to see you like this.”

“But I want to eat pizza,” you declare stubbornly, standing up to button your blouse and pull down your skirt.

Before you could fasten one button or pull down one centimeter, his hand darts out to snatch your wrist away from your body. It doesn’t hurt much, but it causes your body to heat in more places than one. He’s sexy like this, demanding your attention. “No,” he rumbles definitively, “my room. Now.”

“Why?” you throw your hands in the air, yelping when he slaps your ass. He makes sure to make it sting, cupping you fully.

“Because,” he says firmly, “you don’t get to eat until I eat,” you whimper when his hand reaches to cup your sex, panties wet and cold without his warmth as he pushes you in the direction of his bedroom.

Oh, you can’t wait for both of you to eat tonight.

some time later.

“Ohmygod the view is beautiful!” Krystal, who works in advertisement, squeals. “No filter needed!”

“Alright alright, make room Princess,” Namjoon teases. With a bump to Krystal’s tiny hips Namjoon shoves you two across the pavilion, putting his arm around you once he finds the perfect angle, “Umji, can you get a pic of me and my Work Wife? I want this on the Big Hit Instagram!”

You hold your straw sunhat down from the salty wind, smiling beautifully as Umji takes multiple pictures of you and Namjoon from her Nikon. Another successful year under your notch, ending with a successful work retreat.

“Namjoon, can I take a picture with my actual wife now?”

“We’re not married, Jungkook,” you chastise, patting the chest of Namjoon’s floral printed Hawaiian shirt so he can switch. Instantly, Jungkook slides up next to you like a picture perfect stock model piece, and you wrap your arms around his trim waist, “we’re not even engaged.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” he pouts, looking over the pavilion and adjusting the both of you so there’s a good amount of you and the resort in the background. The sun may be scathingly hot, but it looks beautiful perched over the crystal clear waters. “Namjoon, you got it easy,” Jungkook says when he hands him your phone, “every angle is our good angle, so you can’t mess it up.”

Being the honest man he is, Namjoon knows better and doesn’t say anything to that. Instead he shoots down whatever pineapple-flavored concoction is offered to him on a silver platter, and starts shooting.

“Is this swimsuit new?” Jungkook murmurs into your ear between shots, flicking your little red number by the strap connecting the back, “because I didn’t see this in the luggage.”

You smile big, pearly whites as Namjoon demands to pop out your butt and work it, pressing your body closer to Jungkook’s. “Tiny enough so I could hide it in my purse,” you reply proudly, voice low for only each other’s ears, “why, surprised?”

“Definitely not prepared,” his fingers dig deliciously in your bare flesh, “would Victoria fire you if she catches us doing it in the cabana?”

Amused that your boyfriend now shares your combined awe and fear of your boss, you twist his nipple lightly. He yelps, and from Namjoon’s guaff he’s definitely got that on camera. “We didn’t come to Boracay to fuck in the cabana.”

“Then the hotel room?”

Namjoon hands you back your phone when he considers his job done, letting you and Jungkook have some alone time. You wave your phone in his face, trying to get him to focus on the task at hand. You wanted to post some cute pictures of you and your boyfriend, one to impress the family back home and the Big Hit interns back in Seoul who are absolutely pining for your position.

“Jungkook, they have the water ski thing where you can flip in the water mid air! Doesn’t that sound fun? Or we can go scuba diving, have Filipino food, or get massages. LIterally, we’re on Big Hit’s dime, and the first thing you want to do is go back to the room?”

“Yes,” he pouts petulantly, leaning into the hollow of your ear and whispering, “got a chub on.”

Discreetly so, your hands brush against his navy trunks and you note yes, he’s half hard. “No!” you shake your head definitively, pushing him out of your arms. You’re not letting sex get in the way of your hard-earned vacation, you’re on company dime and you intend to milk every peso of it. “Namjoon, take him away!”

You blow him a kiss and follow another group who’s decided to go eat, watching your boyfriend get dragged away by Namjoon’s long arms. Krystal, who’s been mildly watching the whole ordeal in-between taking selfies, looks at you in awe, “You got it good, bosslady,” she says, and you happily link arms with her in the direction of the restaurants.

You and Jungkook definitely have it good. You don’t see him until dinnertime, looking utterly relaxed as he sips on a mango-muddled concoction. He must’ve gotten a couples massage with Namjoon, cute. Splitting up was definitely a good idea, by the time your meal arrives the two of you are practically leaning against each other, telling each other what events you need to do tomorrow and events you think will be fun to do together.

“Joon,” Jungkook is throwing an arm over your Wusband’s shoulder, mildly tipsy. The image is adorable, as Jungkook long ago previously confessed that he felt a little jealous of Namjoon’s work relationship with you before you were dating. Now, it feels like they’re best friends and you’re third-wheeling. “What do you think about having halo-halo tomorrow? It’s like bingsu but with a bunch of other good stuffs. There’s red bean, mango, ube, ice cream…”

Just as Jungkook begins his tirade of dessert ingredients, you pull up your phone to check on your social media. You smile back at your profile, seeing your latest Instagram post at the very top of the feed. Not to flex, but the two of you look pretty smokin’ since you’ve been keeping up with Jungkook’s insistence to join him at the gym. Jungkook and you are leaning against the pristine veranda, overlooking the clear blue water and a cloudless sky. The smiles you two sport are genuine and utterly in love.

You scroll down the comments, most of them filled with sweet messages but one of them has you doing a double take.

@sooyaaa__: 😒😒😒 knew something was goin on behind my back… good riddance

The smell of Jungkook’s detergent overtakes your nostrils, and you turn to him. He’s stopped talking, now immersed in whatever’s going on in your phone.

“The nerve of her,” Jungkook scrunches his nose, disgusted at her latest comment. “As if anyone would believe her.”

“Yeah,” you echo, “I feel bad for her, though. She’s probably lonely.”

“Her loss, she put this upon herself. Not us.”

You pout, “I know, but she was my friend at one point.”

He frowns, putting an arm behind your backrest. It would be easy for him to say yeah, and she was my girlfriend and one-up you, leaving it at that. But now he knows better, and that friendship is a much better value than an ill-fated relationship. “Sorry baby,” it’s not his fault, but he sees your disappointment in putting out hope for an old friend. He gives you a little smooch on your temple, “do you miss her?”

“The old her, yeah,” you sigh, clicking on her profile, “but now? I can do without her negativity.”

“Okay,” he takes your phone from your hand, “have you ever blocked a person before?”

“No.”

“Well, today’s the day,” he says it so coolly, you barely have time to think when he clicks the ‘block’ button on Jisoo’s profile, then clicking off his phone to put in his pocket. “No more phone for today,” he proceeds to take your plate that was recently served, taking the time to cut your large vegetables into smaller portions. “Like you said, we shouldn’t waste your vacation time.”

Your heart swells with butterflies for Jeon Jungkook, who’s meticulously cutting your food and telling you to relax and stop dwelling on the past. He’s right, if Jisoo’s not going to stick around for the future and continue to cause negativity in your life, why not keep the positives in the past while it lasted?

“You know I love you, right?”

He ceases cutting, and looks at you to pop a sweet potato in his mouth. “Love me enough to do it in the cabana?”

He’s still on that? “Jungkook,” you warn, pretending to get up, “forget I said anything. I’m gonna go karaoke with Umji.”

“Kiddingggg,” he whines, pulling you back down with an outstretched hand, “you know I love you too.”

“You’re terrible.”

“Only this way because I’d know you’d totally be into cabana sex if we were vacationing by ourselves.”

“Yes, but you’re still terrible,” you giggle when Jungkook steals a kiss, just as easy as he’s stolen your heart.

#jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #gcn23 #goldenclosetnet #btsghostie #jungkook fic #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #bts fic #bts smut #a big weight is off my shoulders

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