#the bunny thing is sadness and anxiety | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

borathae · 6 months

Text

"Jungkook is always plagued with guilt when he has to leave you for a business trip. His anxiety that you might be angry at him for not being present is especially high this time around and only your safe embrace can help him calm down."

Pairing: CEO!Jungkook x f.Reader

Genre: married life!AU, mild Hurt & Comfort, Smut

Warnings: Jungkook is anxious, stressed & guilty, he cries, she is so comforting, hugs and kisses, needy sex, sloppy mutual masturbation, handjob, pussy fingering, penetrative sex facing each other, until he pushes her to her back and fucks her missionary, strength & muscle kink, he is so passionate and rough in missionary, I don't think that there are distinctive roles in this, I guess you can call it Top!Jungkook with a Mommy kink, she calls him Bunny at first before he fucks her to the state where she can only call him by his name, dirty talk, sensory deprivation in the sense that they fuck in complete darkness, they're so so desperate for each other, tears because it's so good, multiple orgasms for her, creampies, cockwarming as aftercare, with cuddles and kisses <3, they're fucking soulmates

Wordcount: 5.3k

a/n: i wrote this after kook's solo concert because he did it to me. i also reread THE angst chapter of aaol and i think this influenced me as well. i really want my kookie back

The plane wasn’t supposed to land this late. The plans were all ruined.

Jungkook scans his eyes over the kitchen. Empty. Clean. He abandons his suitcase by the stairs leading up and walks to the fridge. He opens it. His heart stings. The plans were all ruined. He wasn’t supposed to come home this late. You made dinner for him. The prettily plated food is still on its original plate for him. You put a glass bowl over it to keep it fresh.

“Fuck”, Jungkook presses out and closes the fridge. He feels so fucking guilty that he wants to throw up. He should have been there. He should have eaten your food and talked to you during dinner. He should have fucking been there.

You knew that he wouldn’t come home. He was aware that his text came way too late, but he still had hoped that you hadn’t started cooking yet. Of course you had.

It has been longer than a month since he last was in Seoul and you always cook the grandest things as a welcome home surprise. Jungkook doesn’t expect you to cook, you do it because you want to. Which makes him feel all the shittier right now. He wasn’t there to appreciate it. He had one job - the most important job of all - and he fucking failed you.

Jungkook walks back to his suitcase and lifts it. He will carry it upstairs and then do the laundry tomorrow. He can’t be bothered tonight. It’s already too late. He already wasted too much time being his shitty CEO self.

The dressing room is empty and clean. It faintly smells like lavender in here. He knows it’s because you cleaned this room recently. Jungkook discards the suitcase by the dresser and leaves the room.

He takes a shower in the upstairs bathroom. He didn’t want to go downstairs yet. He is a little scared to do so. He shouldn’t have arrived so late. He is scared of your reaction. He gets so sad when you are disappointed in him. He hasn’t decided yet whether it’s his anxiety disorder talking or the truth, but he thinks that you will be angry at him.

He is angry at himself. He’s a fucking shithead of a husband. That’s what he fucking is.

Jungkook manages not to cry in the shower even if he really wanted to. His feelings are eating him up alive. He feels so stressed. So tired. So exhausted. Work has been hell. And the fact that it was in a country he barely knew the language of and he had to be without you made it even worse. He feels so drained.

The shower doesn’t help. It cleans him, nothing more. Jungkook doesn’t put on clothes and leaves for downstairs. He uses the never ending city lights as his guidance. The wind carries the distant purring of the traffic to the windows. The slightly higher pitched pitter patter of his naked feet on marble floor is loud in comparison. The sound stops in sync with Jungkook stopping in front of the bedroom door.

His hand is shaking. He has to hold it to calm down. He is so scared. You will be so disappointed with him. He wouldn’t even be surprised if you told him to sleep on the couch tonight. You never did so before, but things can change. One month is awfully long and he left you hanging today. He wouldn’t blame you if you sent him away.

Jungkook takes a shaky breath for courage and steps inside. The room smells like home. Jungkook feels his throat tighten in emotion. This is what home smells like. And he was too late for it. He swallows down his tears and tries to walk it off.

The electric blinds are closed all the way, putting the room into complete darkness. Jungkook uses the light of his phone screen to tiptoe to the bathroom. He still needs to brush his teeth. He does so using his phone’s flashlight as the only light source. He didn’t want to turn on the big lights and risk waking you. Or maybe he didn’t want to look into his own eyes. He can’t bear to face himself tonight.

Jungkook leaves the bathroom door open and tiptoes to the bed. His phone screen gives off enough light that he can see you once he arrives by the bedside.

You are turned to his side, resting your hand on his blanket. Your cheek is squished as you are sleeping halfway on your stomach. Your lips are parted as soft breaths leave you. Jungkook looks back at your hand resting on his side and gulps down the painful lump in his throat. You shouldn’t have had to fall asleep alone tonight. You shouldn’t have had only his memory to hold.

Jungkook picks up your hand so he could slip under the covers. You react to the gentle nudge with a hum.

“Mhm”, you let out and roll over, now showing off your back.

Jungkook is aware that you didn’t do it on purpose, but it feels like it. You turned your back to him and it’s his own fault.

Jungkook tugs the blanket under his arm and touches your back. Up and down. Up and down. He feels you breathe. Your warmth is so familiar to him. He missed it so much.

He missed you so much.

His eyes start burning.

“I’m sorry”, he whispers shakily and turns his back to you. He can’t face you anymore. It hurts so much. He squeezes his eyes shut and tries not to cry.

The sheets ruffle as you move around again. Jungkook doesn’t feel the movement because you and he have separate mattresses and separate blankets to get the best sleep ever. You shared a mattress and blanket at first, but decided to upgrade your bed a year ago. Jungkook likes his mattress firm and his blanket thin, while you love to have a softer mattress and your blanket to be thick. And the little mattress movements as one of you rolled around or the blanket wars which once managed to wake you are gone as well. Changing one mattress and blanket for two was the best decision ever. You and he sleep like royalty these days.

Jungkook hears the sheets ruffle as you move around and then the sound of a hand sliding over soft sheets. Warmth touches his back. He tenses up, stays silent. You draw paths along his back, feeling him up. Seeing him. Just like he did all those years ago when you were still masked soulmates aching to be together. It became a little thing between you and him to trace the other in darkness as to make out if it was your other half. You became so good at it these days.

Your touch dances up to the nape of his neck after exploring his upper back. Jungkook shivers and aches to lean into your touch. He is scared to do so now. He already waited for too long to speak up. You’ll know that he is intentionally acting asleep to avoid talking to you.

You close the distance, taking him into your arms to pull him against your chest. You are propped up on your elbow, using the position to nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck so you could kiss him.

Jungkook exhales shakily, releasing all of his tension with a tremble. This just broke him. To be cradled and kissed. It broke him.

“Are you awake?” you whisper softly. The words swirl against his neck.

He nods his head.

“Sorry, did I wake you?”

He hesitates. Should he be truthful? Will you be hurt if he was?

He shakes his head. He can’t lie to you. Not like this. Not when you hold him so safely. Not when you have broken him with your embrace.

“Why didn’t you say something?”

“I’m sorry”, he presses out and sobs softly.

“Hey”, you gasp, straightening up, “hey, are you crying? What’s wrong?” you babble and roll him to his back so you could cradle his cheeks. You wipe his tears away, keeping close by resting your chest against his’, “what’s wrong, Bunny?”

“I’m sorry for tonight. I’m so sorry for being late and, and not showing up. I’m so fucking sorry.”

“It’s okay, hey it’s okay. It wasn’t your fault. The flight was delayed. You couldn’t have known.”

“I saw the food”, he confesses and squeaks sadly, “I didn’t show up, I’m so sorry. I should have texted sooner, I should have-”

“How could you have texted me sooner if you didn’t even know that the flight would be delayed?”

Jungkook falters. He sniffles repeatedly, taking sharp gasps for air to regulate his breathing. What you say makes sense to him. He didn’t even think of it yet, despite it being the most logical explanation. So it was his anxiety disorder kicking in.

You caress his left cheek while your right hand guides your pointer finger up and down along the bridge of his nose. You call this touch your magic touch because there is some sort of magic in it to calm down any sort of anxiety Jungkook experiences. Jungkook flutters his eyes closed and sighs as comfort overtakes him.

“Now tell me how you should have texted me sooner, mhm?” you ask in a soft, comforting voice.

“I don’t know”, Jungkook whispers.

“Of course you don’t, it’s impossible. The flight was delayed. It was an unfortunate series of events and not your fault”, you assure him, “unless you intentionally stayed away. Mhm is that it? Did you not wanna see me already, you sneaky Bunny?” you add in a joking tone, making Jungkook giggle.

He shakes his head, “no Mommy, I wanted to see you.”

“Good”, you say in a fond voice and claim his lips in a smooch.

Jungkook gasps because he hadn’t expected it. The feeling finally seeps into his consciousness. He is kissing you. After thirty three days without you, he is finally kissing you again. Jungkook whimpers and hooks his fingers behind your head, deepening the kiss with trembling lips. He is kissing you again. He is finally realizing that this is happening, that he is back with you. He hooks his arms behind your head and pulls you closer, asking for your taste. You part your lips and meet his begging tongue, while your fingers explore the softness of his hair.

You feel a little dizzy from sleep. You didn’t have the deepest sleep tonight because you knew that Jungkook would come home and you subconsciously refused to find deep sleep. So when Jungkook got into bed, the rustling of his blanket woke you. The pull was instant. You needed to feel him, make sure that he was finally with you again. Your body didn’t expect to be in the current position for such a long time. Your arms are weak and your head is dizzy.

You break the kiss because exhaustion makes you do it.

Jungkook chases you, rolling you and him over so he was the one on top. His right arm rests around you just a little under your breasts, his left hand is cradling your cheek while his right hand is deepening in your hair as best as your texture allows it. He claims your lips in a kiss again, whimpering into it as his body seeks your closeness. Two layers of blanket are keeping you apart. Jungkook doesn’t think, he merely acts and pulls his blanket off of him. Next your blanket. He opens it and slides his arm under it. He takes you softly in his hand and presses you against him at the same time as his body sinks under your blanket. He trembles. It is so warm under your covers and from what he can feel, you are wearing one of his sleep shirts. He grabs a bundle of it and twists, needing you to be so much closer than you already are.

“Please”, he begs in a shaky voice, tugging at your shirt.

You sit up far enough that you can take off your shirt. You throw it to the side and fall back down.

“Thank you”, Jungkook whimpers and cradles you against his chest. He buries his face in the crook of your neck and places his right hand on the back of your head to support it for you.

You wrap your arms around him, letting out a sigh you didn’t even know you were holding in. You have him back. This is how your Jungkook hugs. Thirty three days without him are unbearably long. So long in fact that your skin started to unwillingly forget the warmth and softness of him. It comes rushing back again now that you are hugging without barriers.

“___”, Jungkook croaks and presses you closer, “oh god.”

“I missed you too”, you whisper, burying your hand deep in his hair. You pull him closer. Your breasts squish against his chest, the pressure feels like heaven. It gets easier to breathe and releases you of tension you didn’t even know you possessed. You have your Jungkook back.

Jungkook feels overwhelmed. He ached for your hug ever since he left. Thirty three days without you were hell. You are his constant in his life. When he comes home from work, you are there, hugging him and talking to him and falling asleep with him. When he leaves for work, you are right by his side, talking to him and kissing his cheek as he drops you off at university. When he has free time, he knows he can spend it with you. You are always there. You are his constant. The person who will always be by his side. The warmth he can always return to. So to go without you for more than a month was hell.

“I missed you so much”, he confesses.

“Me too, Bunny. Me too.”

You felt just as lonely without him. Years ago, you wouldn’t have batted an eye at the thought of being along for a month, but Jungkook changed you in the most wonderful of ways. He is your person, the comfort you most look forward to, the home you never want to leave. You have him by your side in the morning and have him back again by the evening. You share the last second of consciousness with him before sleep and share the first right after. And for the last month, you didn’t. You had to live without him and it was agony.

“Closer”, Jungkook begs, “I wanna be closer.”

“Closer?”

“Closer please.”

“Lie down on your side.”

Jungkook obeys, keeping his arms around you. You seek him and slide your hand to his length. You brush your fingers over his tip, eliciting a trembling gasp from him. A small whimper follows.

“This kind of closer?”

“Yes”, he squeaks and grabs whatever he can of your upper back.

“I missed this feeling. You’re so soft.”

“I missed you too. Ah please.”

“Kook…”

“Can I-”

“Yes.”

His left hand naturally dances down your body, trying to locate your clit. You drape your leg around him, giving him access. He connects his fingers with your heat, sending electricity through you.

“Holy fuck, I’m sensitive”, you get out and moan. You take his cock and begin jerking it. He grows hard rapidly. Just as you soak his fingers at a rapid speed. You want him. He wants you. Too long you had to go without each other.

“Me too. Ah mhm”, he gets out and buries two of his fingers inside you.

“Bunny….”

“Mommy…”

You cradle his cheek, rub your thumb over his face and stub his nose with your own. Your hands work desperately between your bodies, the tension is growing embarrassingly fast.

“Bunny, I missed you so much”, you keen and squeeze your eyes shut. It feels so good. His long fingers are filling you up while his thumb is rubbing circles on your clit. He is so sloppy and needy in his touch, which makes it all the better.

“Me too, Mommy”, Jungkook gets out and whimpers, “oh god.”

Your hand is fast around his cock. You are calculated on normal days, but not tonight. There is no coordination in how you touch him, just pure and honest desperation.

“I don’t wanna cum like this”, you croak.

“Close?”

“Yeah, it’s fucking stupid. Fuck”, you slide your hand to his hair so you could twist.

Jungkook moans, tilting his head back all on his own while his pouty lips brush against yours. You kiss without really kissing. Just featherlight touches, tickling moans and traces of your tongues. The tension between you and him becomes unbearable. You clench down on his fingers, feeling his cock throb in your hold.

“Bunny, I need your cock.”

“I need your pussy too, Mommy.”

“Good. Take out your fingers.”

Jungkook obeys, touching your hip instead. Neither of you care about the wet mess he leaves on your skin. It’s just another proof that you and he are finally reconnected again.

“Good boy”, you praise and shimmy down just a little so you can take his cock inside. There is no friction, no struggle, no pain. Just warmth and overwhelming pleasure.

“Holy fuck”, you whisper and push him in deeper. Past your entrance. Your warm walls engulf him.

Jungkook grabs you and accidentally scratches you. He couldn’t help it. He is with you again. No one feels like you. No one does.

“Ah!” the sound bounces off the walls. He trembles and pulls you closer, “Mommy.”

“Bunny.”

“Oh god, I’m home”, he whimpers and starts chasing you.

Your leg is still around him, his thrusts go so deep like this. You are so filled up with him, so stuffed. You are eye to eye even if the complete darkness prevents you from seeing each other. But you don’t need light to see each other. Not you and not Jungkook. You have your hands and fingertips to see. You started it back in the stuffy sex club room you met in and perfected it over the years in your loving home. You know exactly how he looks right now and in return he knows as well.

“Bunny, oh god, my Jungkookie”, you get out and shake, pulling him closer by his hair. The darkness makes it feel all the more intense as you claim his lips in a passionate tongue kiss. The sounds of it mix with the desperate rutting your hips are doing. The rustling of the sheets is audible as well, as are the needy moans both of you choke out constantly.

You are hot under the covers. Sweat has formed on the parts where you are pressed together. You pull each other closer regardless, basking in the heat because you had to live without it for far too long. This is the only way to melt with each other.

“I love you”, Jungkook gets out and kisses you again.

“-love- too”, is all you get out between your hungry kisses, but Jungkook knows regardless. Even without words he would know. From your kisses, your embrace and the way your pussy is convulsing around him. Jungkook knows every ridge, every bump, every inch of how you feel inside and being allowed to experience it right now is the only proof of love he needs. He is the man who you allowed to go in raw, even back when you pretended not to care. You claimed him and sealed his sweetest fate. You loved him enough that you wanted to be without barriers and you love him enough that you welcome him home right now.

“You feel so good”, you moan and rut against him before your lips suck on his lower lip needily.

Jungkook whimpers, spilling tears of ecstasy. He fucks into you, feeling his legs shake. He is so high on you.

This is fucking for the sake of reconnecting. This is emotional. Deeply, soul-consumingly emotional. Is it kinky? No. Will either of you last long? No. Will it stay in your minds as one of the most intense nights ever? Yes. Yes it fucking will. This is the kind of desperate, needy, passionate sex you can only have after you have been without each other for a long time. It is dumb. It is raw. It is carnal and it is the only good thing which comes out of having to be without the other. Because no amount of foreplay, kink or fetish will ever get you to the level of starvation than forced distance does.

And you are starving. Oh, you are parched and aching for each other. Jungkook fucks you as hard as he can, while you rut against him as roughly as you can. It results in these deep, fiery thrusts, which fills you with all his cock and in return makes him experience every inch of your pussy.

You are burning up today. You are hot around him, as if you had a fever. Jungkook can barely breathe because of it, gasping for air between his desperate moaning. And you are soaking wet. Soft too. So soft. Jungkook scratches down your back and pulls you closer. His left hand cups your buttock and stills your hips this way. He pushes. The kiss breaks with your needy moan. You roll to your back just enough that Jungkook can prop himself up on his right elbow and use the angle to finally bottom out. Truly bottom out because the position finally gives him a chance to do so. Your leg is still around him, while the other is under his weight. You can feel his sculpted thigh shift and tense as he fucks you. His thrusts are sloppy and so perfectly uncoordinated that they seem coordinated. The mattress shakes because of it.

You barely feel it because he is currently fucking the senses out of you. This is the kind of fuck which reminds you why he managed to steal your heart and the proof of why you could never want to leave him. It genuinely fucks every sense of control out of you and turns you into the neediest, wettest pillow princess in existence. Tonight it impacts you especially deeply, leaving you to arch your back and curl your toes.

“Bunny”, you moan embarrassingly high pitched, throwing your head back as best as possible while Jungkook shows off the strength of his hips, “Bunny, oh god. Ah Bunny.”

“Mommy. So good, ah Mommy”, Jungkook moans and drops his head into the crook of your neck. He pulls you closer until your head rests on his right lower arm and you have his biceps brushing against your nose. The gentle headlock he has you in heals you from aches you didn’t even possess before. You are so safe like this. He smells hot. As if he is burning up.

“Bunny…”

You are burning up yourself, grasping his broad, muscular back as your only connection to sanity. He is making you cum and it’s happening soon.

“Don’t stop, please”, you beg.

“Mommy”, he moans and continues because he won’t ever ignore one of your begs. You don’t beg often, so when you do, Jungkook is overtaken with the need to fulfill your every wish. Which means a lot because he always wants to fulfill your every wish.

“You’re making me cum”, you choke out and sob softly as you hug him against you.

“Holy fuck”, Jungkook gets out and squeezes you strongly as your body falls into the high. You are so tight around him, burning up and throbbing. No wonder you are sobbing. Jungkook has to grit his teeth from how intense your orgasm feels to him and he isn’t even the one experiencing it. And there is one problem right now. He still needs it longer. He doesn’t know if he is holding back because he is greedy for more or if his body is just working this way right now, but he isn’t done even when you are already coming down. He needs more. He wants you longer.

You are soaking his cock, pulsating around him as you slowly recover and it’s fucking messing with him. He needs you. He needs you so bad.

Jungkook uses his strength and rolls you onto your back completely. His cock leaves you for a second, but you barely feel the disconnection as the darkness and your passed high leave you disoriented. Your legs are spread open, giving Jungkook a chance to take his cock and push it inside again.

Now you feel it. Now you’re whole again. You whimper, tensing up around him.

“Not done yet”, he rasps with his hand twisting the pillow next to your head. He bottoms out and chases you instantly. Fast and hard. He fucks the juices out of you, filling the air with the sounds of it just as he fills it with the sinful sounds of his naked body impacting with yours. The bed is sturdy and yet still croaks. His throaty grunts and guttural growls fill your ears as well. You know for a fact that he is frowning right now, gritting his teeth because he always does so when he fucks hard.

“Ju-Ju-Jungkook”, he fucks his name out of you. He is fucking his cock right against the spots which steal your sanity. You can’t stop getting wetter because of it. Every second with him feels fucking orgasmic, “Jungkook! Ah! Jungkook!”

You grip his arm. His muscles are so tense, bulging under your fingers as he drills you like an animal.

“Jun-Ju-Jungkoo-ook.”

“Yeah, keep moaning my name Mommy”, he growls deeply and curses, “fuck, this is…fuck.”

“Jungkook, ah god Jungkook.”

“That’s it, Mommy. That’s it, keep moaning my name”, he encourages you and rewards you with harsher thrusts. Of course this wasn’t his final form yet. Not Jungkook. Not your husband. He will make you believe that the sex couldn’t get any better before showing you not to underestimate him. He fucks you deep into the mattress just as he fucks you deep into a blurred state of ecstasy.

You are utterly and entirely his right now. And you fucking like it, moaning his name as he rewrites your definition of pleasure one harsh thrust at a time.

“I missed you”, he is using his deep voice to talk, “I thought of you, urgh, of you being mhm being cockstuffed with me, ah mhm I’m going crazy, Mommy. Fuck.”

He could tell you everything right now and you would barely take it in. Your brain doesn’t work. You are so dumb right now. So utterly stupid. If you weren’t on your back, you would have drooled. Instead you sob his name and writhe desperately.

“Fuck”, Jungkook spits and growls. His hips stutter for only a second. This is how long he needs to find his composure again and then he is already drilling you again, pushing your body closer and closer to your orgasms, “have to go again?”

“Ye-yeah”, you keen, arching your back.

“Let go Mommy, I’m right here”, he tells you and cradles your cheek.

The touch is all that was missing. You break apart with a loud moan of his name and your fingers desperately twisting his hair. He fucked it out of you from the deepest parts of you, which makes it all the more intense. You can’t even moan as it happens. His name was all you managed to produce before your voice gave up on you. You can’t breathe either, lying there with your lips parted and your back arched as Jungkook drags heaven out of you.

Your second high gives him a hard time. The needy fucking he did brought him to the point where he has to let go even if he wanted to hold back longer. His cock aches, his balls feel tight and the tension in his stomach has reached a painful level. While your lungs aren’t working right now, his’ are working overtime, producing the neediest, quickest pants for air. He takes a deep breath and exhales it through his mouth, dropping his head into the crook of your neck.

“I’m gonna cum inside”, he moans in a pitched voice. His hips stutter, but don’t lose speed, “gonna creampie your pussy so hard. Holy fuck, Mommy.”

You wrap your legs around him, closing your arms around him as well while your left hand buries itself deep in his hair and your right grabs his tense ass. You are barely present yet, but the need to feel him paint your walls gives you enough strength to pull him close.

“I love you”, he chokes out and lets go. He isn’t silent like you were. He is loud. Oh so loud that after a few seconds he needs to muffle himself by sucking on your neck.

“I love you too”, you whimper, “my loving counterpart.”

“Oh”, he sobs and pulls you closer, “my soulmate”, he squeaks and tenses up again, “no-not done. Ah!”

“Let it all out, fill me up Bunny. Please don’t hold back.”

Jungkook paints you white until it drips out of you and his body’s strength forsakes him. The comedown is intense. Because Jungkook never stopped fucking you even after your high stopped, you never got to calm down and because Jungkook fucked himself to the point of ruin he feels just as needing for your embrace.

“Are you okay?” he whimpers.

“Yeah. You?” you get out.

“Yeah.”

He shivers and twitches on top of you, blanketing you in under his body weight and the real covers. They slipped off his back in the rough fucking so that now, they are only covering your lower bodies. You don’t feel cold because you have him keeping you warm.

Neither you nor him can talk for the first few minutes, sharing forced silence as your brains try to relearn how to speak. His ears are ringing, you can feel your pulse in your head. You are both sweaty, the heat grows in your bodies now that you are so melted together. His cock softens slowly, still filling you up and keeping most of his seed inside. Good. You don’t want him to leave yet.

You finally have him back after more than a month and you would be a fool to break the connection sooner than necessary. You know that sooner or later you will have to stop this. Not only because of your important post-sex pee, but also because Jungkook can’t fall asleep like this.

At least this is what you believe. Jungkook is in the midst of drifting off to sleep. Jetlag, stress and exhaustion are finally catching up with him. Now that his mind is cleared of that initial dulling desire for you, it is finally truly sinking in that he is back home. And being back home means comfort and sleep. Still being inside and having you cockwarm him while your fingers are drawing hearts on his back forces even more sleepiness to the surface. He is home. Sleep can finally come.

“Bunny?” you whisper, scratching up his back gently. Goosebumps follow your touch. He shudders as you drag shivers out of him.

“Hm”, the sound barely wants to leave him. It tickles your neck.

“Are you falling asleep?”

He nods his head slowly.

“Don’t”, you chuckle softly, shaking him by his back gently, “the post sex pee.”

“I’m tired”, he breathes and sighs, “so tired. Work…hell.”

“I know, Bunnybaby I know. But spending your break from it having an UTI is gonna suck.”

“Not yet. Please.”

You give up fighting him, exhaling deeply through your nose. He sounds so needing of what you currently have. You need it as well.

“Fine”, you say and fish for the blanket to pull it over your bodies, “a few more minutes.”

You hug him against you, cradling the back of his head. Jungkook sighs and relaxes on top of you.

“I fucking missed you, Kook.”

“I missed you too.”

2K notes · View notes

carakook · 3 months

Text

Bloom. °˖✧✿✧˖°

“I said, don’t. Just shut the fuck up and let me have this. Just one more time, please…”

→ Chapters list ←

⚘4. Spring Is Gone

🔞For Mature Audiences Only🔞

╔══ ❀•°❀°•❀ ══╗

⚘Pairings: Jeon Jungkook x fem!reader

⚘Synopsis: After being granted with “closure”, you try to enjoy your last night with Jungkook. It’s an emotional and fucking steamy mess.

⚘Genre:Forbidden love

⚘Word count: 13K+ 🥴

⚘Warnings: 18+ for mature audiences only, MDNI, emotional, mentions of cheating, active cheating, HEAVY smut, mouth spitting, wine kissing (idk if it’s actually called this but it’s what I have always called it LMAO), crying during sex, emotional sex, EMOTIONAL EVERYTHING YOU WILL CRY I AM WARNING YOU, grief, breaking up (sort of?), panic/anxiety attacks, alcohol, stealing (lol it’s kinda cute you’ll see,) making love (different from fucking), sort of rough, unprotected sex (always be careful, Y/N is on BC!), SAD JUNGKOOK I REPEAT SAD JUNGKOOK!!!! let me know if I miss anything there is a lot in this chapter.

⚘Disclaimer: This story in no way reflects the characters of those who are mentioned. It is pure fiction and for entertainment purposes only. Please don’t take it seriously. Nothing is real in this story.

⚘A/N: The long awaited chapter. This is a long one. I cried. A lot. Holy shit? It’s actually so sad lol but also has some good smut. This isn’t the last chapter, as I said before this is a full on fanfic, I also have it on Wattpad but it gets barely any reads so if you are interested in that let me know. After this chapter, things get very… drama filled? Idk a good word for it lol. I hope you enjoy, and I’m sorry in advance if you cry. I highly recommend listening to the songs, each of them have a place in every chapter which is why I list them lol. Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoy. Love you.❤️

╚══ ❀•°❀°•❀ ══╝

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺ ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ :

♪Merry Go - DPR Ian

♪Gimmie Love - Joji

♪The Astronaut - JIN

♪Dope Lovers - DPR Ian

♪sex money feelings die - Lykke Lie

♪Angel - The Weeknd

♪Nerves - DPR Ian

♪505 - Arctic Monkeys

♪I Love You So - The Walters

♪Apocalypse - Cigarettes After Sex

♪Cry - Cigarettes After Sex

✧━。゜✿ฺ✿ฺ゜。━✧

Since you both agreed on enough of the heavy shit, you spend time together. The mood is heavy for some time, almost awkward, which is why you break out the several bottles of wine you bought this week in an attempt to cope with the end of you and your flower. You’d much rather drink it with him anyway.

You can always buy more.

The wine helps. After you’ve both had a glass, it feels less strained. You continue eating pizza and watching whatever sappy drama is on TV. He picks up on his rant, starts explaining how sex is definitely comparable to pizza; sex creates life, and without sex, we wouldn’t have discovered pizza. Makes total sense. It’s stupid, but he has a point—a very Jungkook thing to think up.

By the time you’re both three glasses deep, you’re a bit wine-drunk. He holds his liquor much better than you do, but you can tell he’s feeling all fuzzy inside. You check your phone as he sits sprawled out on your couch, taking up almost the entire damn thing with his bulky ass. It’s nearly 11:30 pm… around the time he should probably go home.

You glance at him, debating whether to subtly kick him out or not. You don’t want to, god no. It literally makes you sick thinking about it. But you shouldn’t let him stay either, should you? You’re supposed to end this. This was the last night.

But you see how content he looks—like a big, overgrown spoiled dog with a belly full of treats, relaxing next to his favorite person.

You did say one last night… technically the night isn’t over. And he shouldn’t drive in this state, really, if anything, it’s just for his safety…

So you nudge his leg with your foot, and he turns his head lazily towards you, arches a brow, “Hm?”

“Sleep over?”

Oh, he fucking grins. His dimples on show, his eyes crinkling up adorably, and his big bunny like teeth saying hi.

Because what you don’t realize is he wasn’t going to leave. Fuck no. You said one last night, and he was going to milk that for everything it was. No way in hell was he going to go home tonight. If he’s being frank, that’s why he drank three glasses of wine. He didn’t need it. But he knew he could use it as a loophole to staying the night. You wouldn’t let him drive drunk.

He knows damn well what he’s doing, and he’s elated that you offered to let him stay. It means you want him here.

Even after all the bullshit, you still want him here. You want to prolong it, too.

“Hell yeah.”

He winks and then leans up a bit to stretch, causing his shirt to lift and give you the most indulgent peak of his stomach. You shamelessly stare, and he absolutely notices, lifting his arms a bit higher just to give you a better look.

He loves it when you look at him like that.

But then he stands up, casually grabs his car keys from the coffee table, as if he isn’t fucking teasing you.

Fuck. The wine is definitely kicking in. The warm fuzzies in your tummy are spreading elsewhere.

“Gonna go grab some stuff from my car then, make sure it’s locked, I’ll be right back.”

You hum in response and lean back into the couch. Watch him as he walks out the door, and find comfort in the fact that you know he’s coming back… even if it’s the last time.

Jungkook is doing his best not to let his mind wander to the more damning thoughts as he walks out of your complex and into the parking lot. Because he feels the opposite, no comfort at all. His anxiety is spiked now that you’re out of sight. What if you don’t let him in when he makes his way back to you? What if you change your mind about the sleepover? What if you decide you hate him?

Not only that, but he feels like he’s wasting precious time. As if the five minutes he will be away from you (barely) are irreplaceable and he’s just wasting them. It’s literally the end of the world… he shouldn’t be wasting time.

But that’s just his anxiety speaking. In truth, he doesn’t actually need the things in his car… but he packed a few things before showing up unannounced—things he wanted to leave you with.

Such as the little Polaroid camera you bought for him months ago, one that you yourself have used every single time you’re together. You always snap little candid pictures of him, sometimes yourself. He finds your fascination with the thing so fucking cute. He uses it, too, of course. He often takes pictures of you without you even knowing it… and you’ve both definitely taken some more raunchy pictures, pictures that he keeps hidden away in a box for when he misses your touch. For his eyes only. They’re priceless to him, probably some of his most prized possessions.

Speaking of those photos, he also packed a box full of them just for you. Pictures you’ve taken of him, of both of you, of anything and everything. He wants you to have them, wants you to be able to look at them when you miss him a little too much. He went through the photos over the last few days of no contact, greedily picked out his favorites, and put them into his own box for the same purpose. But he picked a generous amount out for you, too.

And as corny as it may sound, he packed a few pieces of his clothing. He knows how much you love stealing his shit, especially his shirts. Several are still missing, but he won’t ask for them back. He’Ll gift you with more, made sure to spray his cologne on them too, so that you can smell him on them. He packed his favorite shirt, hoodie, and something he will reluctantly, but willingly, part with. His denim jacket.

All of them are Calvin Klein branded. The shirt is basic, just a black shirt that’s fitted on him but swallows you whole. It’s the one you often steal when you sleep over at his second apartment, but he never let you take it home because it was his favorite. It’s worn in and soft, that’s why he likes it. But it’s yours now, just like him.

The hoodie is the same, basic black, one that you always tried to steal but never succeeded in doing so. It’ll be like a warm hug when you miss him, he thinks. You’ll love it more than he will. You’ll need it more than him on nights that you feel lonely.

The jean jacket isn’t anything special in appearance. It’s dark denim but is lined in that soft wool that keeps you warm and cozy. He wore it often in the cold months, thought it made him look handsome, but also kept him comfy. He’d rather you have it. He wants to keep you warm forever, hold you in his arms and never let go, make sure you never feel cold again… but he can’t exactly do that. So instead, he’ll give you his jacket.

The last thing is one of his chains. God, he knows you love those damn chains. He almost always wears one, silver or gold, depending on the day. And you always make sure to tell him how much you like them. He never really understood it; it’s something so simple. But you swooned for it. After you guys fuck, you’re always touching it, playing with it. Even when you guys aren’t fucking, you seem to have the impulse to touch it. Maybe it’s a girl thing, he doesn’t know. But he’s giving you one since you liked it so much.

Definitely a girl thing.

He also brought the bottle of perfume you dropped on his floor that night you stormed off… he was going to give it back. Return it to its rightful owner. But as he’s grabbing the bag full of goods out of his car… he impulsively takes it out. Wants to keep it. Wants to be able to smell you, too. He’s sure you won’t miss it.

You won’t miss that perfume as much as he’s going to miss you.

He quickly grabs the bag of stuff, nearly dropping it as he grows more restless because he’s not with you right now. You’re too far away, and every single second counts tonight.

So he rushes back into your complex building, nearly full-on sprinting back to your door.

As he lets himself back in, you’re in the exact same position. Sitting comfy on the couch, eyes on the TV, your wine glass a bit more empty now. Thank fuck.

He wasn’t even gone for more than four minutes. And yes, you did notice, you didn’t like it. But you knew he’d come back. So you waited. Wasn’t a big deal.

He’s just dramatic, for good reason of course. You can see the unease written all over his face as he pads his way back towards you, sets the bag next to your couch. He doesn’t disclose what’s in it and you don’t ask, you just assume it’s the bag he usually keeps in his car for impromptu nights like this.

He doesn’t want to present these little gifts to you yet… because he feels like that’s what’s going to really finalize it. So he’ll wait a little longer.

Would put it off forever if he could.

He takes a seat next to you, obnoxiously close. Your couch isn’t big, but there’s enough for two people to have a comfortable distance from each other. He doesn’t care. He wants to make sure he’s touching you in some way, so he nearly squishes you as he sits down as casually as ever and slings one of his arms on the back of your couch so that his fingertips rest on your shoulder.

He has an almost jittery energy about him right now. Obviously, emotions are heavy; it’s your last night together. It’s kind of hard to act totally ok and normal when you’re both well aware that this is the last night. But even then, somethings a bit off.

You study him for a moment, notice how he’s running his teeth over his lip ring again, how his leg is bouncing up and down a bit even as he tries to mimic a relaxed position on the couch. Maybe he’s anxious?

He is. However, that’s not what this is all about. He wants to kiss and touch you so badly it hurts. But now he’s unsure if he’s allowed. He doesn’t know what’s on and off limits tonight, and he doesn’t want to jeopardize your time together by fucking it up and making unwanted advances.

Overthinking. He wishes he didn’t do that. But he doesn’t even realize it’s happening until after things are said and done, doesn’t know how to stop it.

You assume maybe it’s just nervous energy thanks to the impending sense of doom you both feel. You feel similarly… but you hide it better.

More wine would help, you think.

So you lean forward and grab the bottle which is half empty, this is the second bottle of tonight. You top off each of your glasses as Jungkook watches, and you take a sip.

His eyes stay glued to your lips. He loves your lips. Loves all of you, but especially your lips. He thinks that will be one of the things he misses the most. How soft and pillowy they are, how they’re a bit rosey in color, how they taste, how they pout out a bit when you drink wine, how wine stains your lips so prettily, how they feel wrapped around his—

Yeah. Fuck it. One last night.

“Gimmie some.”

You glance at him and arch a brow, wonder if he’s referring to the wine… or maybe pizza? You literally just topped his wine glass off. He’s being weird.

“I just topped you off?”

He shakes his head, “Nah, I want yours.”

You scoff at him because now he’s just being childish. But he’s looking at you so expectantly, almost stubbornly, as if he’s asking for something more than the wine he’s demanding.

And he is. He doesn’t even really know what though. He’s being greedy, wants your wine because your lips touched the glass, because remnants of your spit might have melted into the wine after taking sips. He doesn’t want his own damn wine.

He wants to be greedy tonight. It’s not like he has anything to lose, he’s already lost it all.

So he reaches over and takes the wine glass from you, gets a bit impatient when he sees you aren’t gonna give it to him right away. He takes a slow sip, places his lips in the same exact spot yours have been every time you’ve taken a drink. It’s ridiculous, really… but he swears he tastes the faintest essence of you on the glass. Closes his eyes, swishes the wine around in his mouth, trying to see if he can taste more of you…

Ok, so, he’s definitely being a bit ridiculous. But fuck, he already feels like he’s going crazy. Can’t really help himself when he is desperately craving any little crumb of you.

You don’t know what to make of this. Part of you is amused, part of you is irritated, because he just stole your damn wine. But you also know there must be more to it, there has to be.

He cracks an eye open, sees you staring at him like he’s crazy, because he kinda is. Only for you, of course. He just swallows the wine and shrugs innocently.

“Yours is better, mine tastes weird.”

You roll your eyes at him because he has the same wine as you do. You can’t figure out what his game is here. So you reach over and take his wine and say, “Yours is literally the same as mine.”

To prove a point you take a sip of his. Just as expected, tastes the exact same as yours. He watches you carefully… gets an idea. An incredibly impulsive,almost intrusive idea.

But again… it’s the last night. And he’s greedy.

You huff at him and point his wine glass (which is now yours apparently) at him as you watch him take a huge gulp out of your glass again.

“Yeah, see, tastes the exact-“

He abruptly grabs the nape of your neck and cups your jaw with his free hand, his thumb coming to rest on your bottom lip and lowering it. He places his lips on yours, waits until your mouth instinctively opens just as it always does for him, and then funnels the wine into your mouth.

Fucking feeding you the wine like a baby bird.

It catches you by surprise at first, causing you to cough a bit and causing the wine to dribble down your chin, but you quickly gulp it down just like he gulps down the little gasp and cough you let out. He kisses you greedily, doesn’t even build up to it before he’s pushing his tongue into your mouth and swirling it against yours, tasting the heady mixture of wine and you. Fuck, you’re his favorite taste.

You don’t protest; of course you don’t. Was definitely a bit bizarre, but also… fuck, that was hot. Was a bit weird but in a super sexy way. You kiss him back, letting out little huffs of air into his mouth as one of your hands also finds the nape of his neck. The other hand automatically rests against his chest, clings to the fabric of his shirt tightly.

You both stay like this as long as possible. The kiss only grows more desperate and aggressive, teeth and tongue clashing beautifully together like thunder and rain. Your soft pants turn into eager breathes at some point, and he knows you need to breathe. But fuck, he wants to stay lip locked with you until he passes out.

This is when you start to second-guess things. Yes, this is the last night together… but knowing it’s ending makes the guilt a bit more prominent. This wouldn’t be ending if it wasn’t wrong, but it is wrong; sleeping with him again just seems so contradictory or maybe even hypocritical.

So you push at his chest lightly, a silent signal for him to slow down. God, he hates the way his stomach lurches. Can’t fathom the idea that you might kick him out right now. Please, god, don’t do this. I’m not a weed, I swear, I’m her fucking flower. I need her one more time, he silently prays even though he’s never been religious or prayed before.

When he pulls back with heavily lidded eyes, you speak up hesitantly, even though you don’t wanna stop, god not at all.

“Kook, we shouldn’t…”

That’s all you say. Because it’s really that simple. You shouldn’t be doing this; you should never have done it at all. But even then, you lack the ability to convince him. Because you want him, one last time. You’re just having a hard time willingly giving in again.

Jungkook knows you well. Knows your body language. He knows that if you truly wanted him to stop, you would’ve been more self assured when speaking. You wouldn’t sound like a meek little mouse, you’d be firm in telling him know. He can see the same thing in your eyes, it’s pure unadulterated want. But maybe you need reassurance, reassurance that one last time is ok, is needed.

You’ve both sinned so much already, one more time won’t change shit.

So his grasp on your jaw firms up a bit, he starts feeling a little too passionate about this. He coaxes your mouth open by smooshing your cheeks a bit before saying,

“Y/N, fucking don’t. Just let us have this, please.”

“But Kook-“

He grunts in frustration. Just as impulsively as he fed you wine kisses, he spits in your mouth. It makes you flinch, makes your pussy clench because fuck it’s so filthy but so hot. So intimate in a sort of fucked up way.

“I said, don’t. Just shut the fuck up and let me have this. Just one more time, please…”

He leans back down and starts kissing you again, licking into your mouth and adding more to the spit he put there moments ago. Doesn’t even give you a chance to protest. He kisses you like he’s going to die if he doesn’t. He’s sure he will. He’ll die a miserable death if he doesn’t love you one more time.

It's a bit harsh, but you know each other enough to know he isn’t trying to be forceful or rude; he’s just desperate. You are too, honestly. You know damn well if you said no and meant it, he would pull away and stop immediately. Your body has always been safest with him. You don’t want to stop, not really. You’re thankful he’s being like this. It’s the push you need to ignore the guilt for a while longer and share your body with him one last time.

When he feels that you’ve melted into him, with no more tension or hesitancy in your body, he pulls away, nipping at your lower lip once and then sucking on it. Then his lips travel down, and he licks the wine staining your chin off before placing sloppy kisses down your neck.

He doesn’t even ask before he starts sucking and licking on your sensitive skin. Not kitten licks, not gentle sucks, no, he’s full-on giving you hickeys, and you know it. You know it’s intentional when you feel him pull back a bit to take a peak, only to lean back in a second later and bite.

The hand on his nape fists into his hair, and your back arches a bit, causing your chest to push against his chest, “Fuck, Kook…”

You should tell him to stop marking you up like this. You don’t like showing up to work or visiting friends with visible hickeys because questions get asked. And as much as you wish you could admit who they’re from, you can’t. No one knows about Jungkook. No one even knows you’re seeing someone right now, and you don’t want to have to come up with some story to cover your ass.

It’s a secret for you too.

But it’s the last night together… and the idea of having his hickeys on your neck, just to remind you a little longer that this was real, he was real, it’s an idea you quite like. Fucking love, actually.

He grunts at you, bites down a little harder, “What? Told you your wine was better…”

You let out a little breathy laugh when he says this, because of course he would play it coy, as if he didn’t just randomly start devouring you. Of course he’d blame it on the damn wine.

That breathy laugh quickly turns into a moan when one of his hands finds your tit, he starts squeezing and groping it through your shirt shamelessly, tweaking your nipple in the way he knows you love. God, he loves your tits. They’re the perfect size for him, he swears. They fit into his palm perfectly, feel like pillows, just like your lips. All of you is just so soft.

He kisses his way down your neck now that it’s all marked up in pretty purple and pink bruises blossoming, much like you do every single time he touches you like this. When he gets to your chest, he looks up at you through his lashes, and then he nearly rips your shirt off of you when he pulls it down.

His eyes leave yours as he looks down at the beautiful pillows on your chest. He just admires them for a moment, as if he’s at an art gallery studying each piece of art. That’s what you are, art. Everything about you inside out is otherworldly beautiful to him, tits included.

At this point, you’re lying down on your couch, legs parted for him. It’s a bit awkward because of how small the couch is, but that doesn’t stop either of you. He doesn’t give a fuck that he barely fits. He’ll make himself fit… just like he’s made himself fit into your life for months.

He wants to fit into your life just one more time, one more night, wants to meld together and tangle your roots so that it’s impossible to untangle them. He knows it’s wishful thinking, but that’s where this is all coming from. He’s not being aggressive and eager and greedy just because he’s horny, no, he’s doing this because maybe, just maybe, if he shows you with his body how much he loves you… how much he needs you… you’ll change your mind one day.

His mouth descends on your left breast, and he starts licking and sucking on your nipple. Your eyes roll back, and your entire body shudders at the sensations, fuck, it always feels like the first time. Before him, men didn’t pay such close attention to your body. Never even had a guy play with your tits before, Jungkook was the first. It was so odd at first, but it quickly became one of your favorite things. Makes you get so wet so fast.

You love how he looks up at you when he does it, his eyes full of asters and stars alike, hearts and moons, lust mixed with love and it’s a dizzying sight. You wonder if this is how you look when you go down on him, if that’s why it unravels him so quickly. You’d understand if so, you wish so badly you could snap a picture of him like this and preserve it.

It’s funny because he’s thinking the same thing. How beautiful you look when he goes down on you, how your eyes mimic his own, and how you have a hard time controlling your facial expressions when the pleasure is too intense. His favorite thing is when you start furrowing your brows and almost pouting at him without realizing it; the little pants and mewls you let out without meaning to, it drives him absolutely insane.

He wants to capture it, too. Fuck, tonight is a night to remember, he wants everything solidified in film. Every single kiss and touch and whisper spoken tonight, he needs to preserve it.

He sucks on your nipple for a few more seconds, his other hand flicking the nipple on your right breast. Wants to get you all worked up for him. he then pulls back, letting go of your tit with a wet pop sound. Lets his hands rest on your thighs and rubs his palms up and down them as he takes you in.

You let out a little whine when he pulls away, but you don’t protest. His pupils dilate heavily as he looks down at you because, holy fuck, you’ve never let him mark you up like this. He doesn’t even like giving hickeys, thinks it’s a bit immature, something meant for college. But seeing you blooming pink and purple from your neck down to your pretty tits? It makes his cock twitch hard in his sweats.

He removes one hand from your thigh, and reaches down to palm himself through his sweats. He squeezes his cock as he takes in your already debauched look. Marked up, tits out, lips swollen, eyes heavy… fuck. You may be what kills him, not heart break.

One last squeeze to his cock to relieve a bit of the pressure, and he lets go of it. He knows you’re getting a bit impatient by how you’re shifting in your spot, but you know he wants to take his time tonight. So you don’t say anything, no matter how much you wanna beg for his dick or his mouth.

He leans over the couch to unzip the bag he brought, grabs the Polaroid, and then readjusts himself between your legs. He sets the camera down on your stomach and brings his hands back to where your thighs are spread prettily for him.

You arch a brow, and he gives you a little smile. He still looks a bit fucked, his eyes black with want and his cock literally tenting his sweats. The smile is much too sweet for what you’re both doing.

“Take as many pictures as you want, there’s a full roll of film in there. Can keep ‘em for when you miss me.”

Now is not the time to cry. Fuck.

You nod at him, grab the camera and keep it close. You wonder if he planned this or if it was a coincidence that it was in his bag. Regardless, you’re thankful. Elated even, that he’s going to let you capture this and preserve it for those nights you doubt he was ever even real. There's no time to be sad now; you can grieve him when he’s gone.

He flicks his tongue over his lip ring as he looks down at you again, there’s so much that he wants to do tonight, but he knows damn well the moment his cock so as much touches you, he’s going to lose control. He needs to lavish you with love and attention first before even thinking of himself.

He grabs the hem of your shirt, gently pulls it over your head. You lay pliant, let him take the lead and do whatever he wants. God, anything for him as long as he keeps looking at you like that, like you’re the reason he breathes.

Next he takes off the pajama shorts you had on, slowly fumbling with them because of the awkward position on the couch. It makes you giggle at him, which makes him giggle at you. Now that you’re both a bit calmed down, not quite as worked up, you realize maybe the couch isn’t the most practical place.

Even then, you take the Polaroid and snap a picture, capturing his bashful smile on camera as he tosses your shorts away. He doesn’t protest; he lets you. Watches as you take the photo it spits out and stare at it lovingly before setting it on the coffee table.

His hands are on your thighs again, and despite the fact you’re nearly butt naked now, his eyes stay steady on your face. He reaches forward, grabs the camera from you, and snaps his photo of you. He focuses the Polaroid specifically on your neck to capture the hickies he left, wants to remember you marked as his. He retrieves the photo after the camera spits it out. He doesn’t look at it yet; just tosses it inside of his bag next to the couch.

At your huff and shy little glare you send him, he chuckles, hands you back the camera, and before you can scold him, he lightly swats your thigh. Then he gets off the couch and picks you up bridal style.

It’s hard to be mad at him when he makes you feel like a princess. You don’t actually mind that he took the picture, as embarrassing as it feels. You know it’ll be for his eyes only.

He easily carries you into your bedroom, kicks the door open, and deposits you on your bed. Wasted no time before he’s taking off his shirt and sweats, and fuck, you swear he’s a Greek god. Perfect, in every way. You could drool every damn time you see any bit of his skin. His broad shoulders, his tiny waist, his subtle and toned thighs, it’s a lethal combination. Any woman who sees him like this surely could keel over at how beautiful he is, how sexy he is.

He gets on the bed with you, and you set the camera on the pillow next to your head. He settles between your thighs once more. He can feel himself starting to get impatient now that you’re both in only your underwear; his cock is still hard. Only getting harder as he stares down at you, looking at how pretty you look with your hard nipples glistening with his spit and your soft thighs spread just for him.

He descends, placing open-mouthed kisses on your tummy. Your hands come to rest in his hair as they’ve done many times because you know you’ll need to hang on. You know where this leads, and anytime he eats you out, it’s an out-of-body experience. The things this man’s mouth can do are unholy, but still feel like heaven.

His eyes stay on you as he kisses his way down to your thighs. He nips at them lightly, causing you to whine. He covers your lower half in kisses, not missing a single ounce of your skin as he lavishes your inner thighs with sweet little declarations of love that just aren’t enough.

You lift your hips ever so slightly, tug on his hair a bit, send him a silent message that says please fucking put your mouth on me before I explode.

He smirks against your skin, looks up at you as he trails his lips upward, “Just feel it, baby, let me love on you.”

You want to roll your eyes at this, but don’t say anything. Just try to regulate your breathing. You know he’s wanting to savor it, savor you. He has every right to.

But he knows what you need; can tell by the way you’re scratching his scalp that you’re itching to feel his mouth on you. And if he’s being honest, he’s growing a bit impatient, too.

So he finally trails his lips past your thighs, onto the mound of your cunt which is still covered by your panties. The moment he sees the wet spot seeping through, smells your arousal, his patience disappears. Suddenly, he’s fucking starving.

He doesn’t even take your panties off before he starts kissing your cunt, sucking on your clit through the fabric. The feeling makes your body nearly jolt, your hips bucking into his face as you tug on his hair and let out an incredibly strained moan. Fuck. So much for taking it slow and dragging it out.

He becomes a man possessed once he tastes you. He’s letting out grunts as he borderline makes out with your panties, suckling the fabric to get every drop of your essence off of them and onto his tongue. It’s genuinely filthy, debauched, but god, it’s hot.

He leans back with flared nostrils and glistening lips, looking like he’s wearing lipgloss. Made specially by you, of course. He nearly rips your panties off and throws them into the pile containing his clothes at the end of the bed.

A coincidence, he tells himself. He’s totally not planning on ‘accidentally’ taking them home with him… not at all.

He leans back down, grabs your thighs, and props them over his shoulders as he maneuvers himself to lay flat on his stomach on the bed, his knees keeping him steady as he presses his face into your pussy.

He inhales you, takes in your scent. So musky and pretty, so uniquely you. He wishes he could bottle it up and wear it as a fucking cologne. He rubs his nose around in it, nudging your clit back and forth, almost as if he’s motor-boating you but instead of your tits, it’s your cunt.

God, it’s lewd. But he can’t get enough.

You already feel yourself becoming a little too turned on but wanna capture this moment. Wanna preserve how fucked he looks when he does shit like this, only ever for you. So you grab the Polaroid with one shakey hand that leaves his hair, and you snap a quick photo. It comes out a bit blurry, but you don’t mind. You place the camera back on the pillow alongside the fresh photo and have to double down on gripping his hair because, holy fuck, this feels so good.

His tongue finds your entrance and starts licking inside, trying to get every last drop of your cream greedily into his mouth. He uses his nose to stimulate your clit, one of the perks of having a big nose. He’s grunting as he licks into your cunt, almost sounds feral doing so. He doesn't even recognize his own voice with the damn noises he's making.

As much as you don’t want to admit it, watching this all unfold has you dangerously close already. Your thighs are quivering on his shoulders, and your toes are curling along his back. The way he’s breathing into your pussy, sucking and licking and nudging it with his nose, fuck, it has you a mess. The noises you’re making you can’t control; you’re starting to sound just as feral as him.

“Mmmph… Koo… gonna cum soon, slow down…”

You babble at him. You wanna cum so bad, but you also don’t want it to stop so soon. If you had one wish at this very moment, it would be that he does this forever. He looks so lovely in between your thighs, licking and sucking you up as if it’s his last meal.

Because it is his last meal. After this night, he’s gonna be starving for eternity without you.

He huffs out a little laugh against your clit, the hot air causing your back to arch and fingers to tighten in his hair; if he doesn’t ease up, your thighs are surely going to crush his damn head.

“Cum then. Fucking give it to me, Y/N. Let me earn it.”

He nearly growls at you before he dives back in with renewed vigor. He replaces his tongue, which was deep in your cunt, with his fingers. He uses his mouth now to suck on your clit. As you look down at him, you’d swear he was kissing it, making out with it, making love with his fucking mouth. The added pressure of two of his long fingers crooking inside of you is quickly bringing you to your end.

But what nearly makes you cum on the spot is the way he starts fucking humping the bed. Acting like a virgin humping a pillow, he moves his hips back and forth on the mattress just for some sort of stimulation to his cock because it started getting so hard it was damn near painful.

He knows how desperate he looks but doesn’t care. Clearly, you enjoy it, judging by the way you start panting, and your pussy starts pulsating and tightening around his fingers. They fuck into you harder, rubbing up against the spongy flesh inside, all while he makes out with your clit.

His eyes open to meet yours, and you’re done for. Seeing that desperation and love in his eyes mixed with the fact he’s fucking humping your bed makes your pussy throb. You begin cumming hard, tugging on his hair as your thighs clasp around his head. He damn near whines into your cunt, the noise only causing vibrations to make it so much more intense for you.

“Nnngh oh shit! Fuck, oh fuck Koo… oh my god, shiiit…”

Your hips buck up into his mouth eagerly; you can’t even control it. Your feet planted on his back, toes curling, thighs trembling around his face, and your face scrunched up in pleasure. You see stars- no- you see an entire fucking galaxy as you cum all over his face. Full of stars, moons, planets, gardens, all of which are full of him and every single fiber of his being.

All for him, just as he is all for you.

He fucks you through it, does his best to prolong it, but he knows he’ll make you cum again on his cock. He is aching to be buried inside of you. He wants to make love to you, not fuck you, he wants to meld your bodies together and become one tonight.

After what feels like forever, your body relaxes, and the spasming of your clit dies down, causing it to become sensitive. He can tell by the way your legs shake and your body jolts when he applies too much pressure with his tongue.

He reluctantly pulls back, licking your juices off of his lips before placing little kisses all over your thighs and pelvis. He looks fucked, his nose and his lips are glistening obscenely in the dim lighting, and his eyes don’t look brown anymore but black.

When your eyes travel downward, you whine at him. His cock is nearly tearing through his underwear, which you now realize he’s wearing your fav, the purple CK’s. There’s a little stain where the head of his cock presses, so much precum, all for you.

He looks down where your eyes are trained, and he snorts at himself. Jesus fuck, he really is acting like a desperate teenager, isn’t he? But he can’t find himself giving a shit. He wants you to know how desperate and unhinged you make him. He can’t say he’s ever been so horny he borderline fucked a mattress, not until now. And it’s all because of you.

He takes off his underwear with shaky hands and tosses them somewhere in your room. Then he settles between your legs again, rubbing up and down your thighs as he takes you in as if it’s the first time.

Your hands come up to his chest, scraping your nails down it slowly, which earns you the most beautiful groan from his lips. He bites down on them, and his cock jumps upward, begging to be touched. So you trail your hands lower until you find his aching length and take it into your hand, start stroking him lazily.

His breathing becomes labored, and his eyes flutter shut. Even just your hand feels so fucking good. His hips jerk forward, seeking more stimulation. Fuck, he can’t get enough.

One of his hands remains on your thigh while the other reaches for the camera. He boldly angles it directly at your cunt, snaps a photo of it, making sure to capture the way your slick folds glisten in the light, along with all of the purple flowers blossoming on your thighs. His tattooed hand is barely in the shot but is visible enough to make it clear it is him in this photo.

He tosses the photo in the same pile his clothes and your panties lay next to the bed, and then angles the camera towards your face and body to take another. He thinks you’re so pretty like this. Cheeks flushed, lips puffy because you always bite them right before you cum, eyes bright with afterglow. You look like an Angel, especially in this moment.

He’s sure you’re an Angel sent from the God he doesn't even believe in.

He snaps another photo and tries to steady his shaky hands because the way you’re stroking his cock feels borderline painful. Too slow; he needs more. Beads of precum drip down his cock as if it’s crying. It may as well be crying for you.

He quickly takes the photo, tosses it in the same pile, and then does the same with the camera without thinking. Is getting way too worked up with how you’re stroking his dick and looking at him like a Greek god.

Because he is one. You’ll say it time and time again.

He leans over your body and settles in between your legs. You remove your hand and wrap your arms around his shoulders, burying your fingers in his hair again. He grinds his cock onto your pussy, coating it in the remnants of your cum and juices, and starts kissing you slowly.

The kiss isn’t like the one with wine; this one is sweet, loving, still desperate, but more patient. His lips work with you in unison, your puzzle pieces coming together once more. You can taste yourself on his lips, and it makes you moan into his mouth, which causes his cock to twitch against your pussy. God, he loves the sounds that you make. Music to his ears, he’d play it on repeat if he could.

He slowly drags the tip of his cock down to your entrance which is well prepared for him, and even more slowly starts thrusting inside of you. He wants to feel you deeply, feel every ripple and ridge of your pussy, every pulse and throb. He wants to catalog it and replay it over and over in his head for when he misses you.

Jungkook is definitely gifted when it comes to his manhood. It’s not too long, a good seven and a half inches, but fuck he’s so girthy. When you first fucked him, you could barely handle how thick he was. Nowadays, you can absolutely handle it, but that first push always gets you fucking squirming. The pressure and stretch are nothing like you’ve ever felt before.

You let out a stuttered gasp into his mouth when he buries himself to the hilt, his balls flush against your ass, and he stays there for a moment so that you can adjust. You break the kiss, wincing a bit as you turn your face to try and hide the way it scrunches up as it always does the first few moments he’s inside of you.

He doesn’t like that. Not at all.

He pulls his face back from yours and steadies himself on his elbow as one of his hands comes up to grip your jaw. He turns your face towards him, doesn’t let you look away or try to hide.

“Uh-uh, you look at me when I fuck you. I wanna see every single detail of your pretty face if this is the last time I get you like this.”

You whine at him, your eyes fluttering shut and cheeks warming. For some reason, that’s embarrassing, like being called out for talking in class or some shit. But even then, your pussy clenches around his cock, because you love it when he takes control like that, when he makes it clear what he wants.

He shakes your jaw a bit when he notices you closing your eyes, causing them to open instinctively. He looks just as fucked as you do, his nostrils are flared, and he’s sweating slightly, clearly holding back.

“Eyes on me, Y/N. Don’t you fucking dare look away. Look me in my eyes while I make love to you.”

Fuck. It takes every single bit of strength you possess not to cry. There he goes, voicing the fact that tonight isn’t going to be some hard fuck. It’s making love.

That terrifies you.

Making love is something entirely different compared to fucking. Some people disagree, but you don’t. Fucking is mindless, meant for pleasure and pleasure alone. Sometimes, there's intimacy after, but it’s mostly just sex. Making love, of course, comes with pleasure, but that’s not its purpose. Its purpose is to come together with your partner, show each other how much you love them, let all of your emotions run wild and free while sharing the most intimate parts of your body together.

Fucking is like buying a bouquet of roses. You get to see them, water them, keep them on display, but the joy dies quickly because the roses die, too.

Making love is like growing a garden of roses. You can’t make love until you grow that love with someone; nurture it, watch it morph and evolve. And then the flowers bloom. The love bursts, the petals are vibrant in colors made up of you and your partner.

Both are lovely. Everyone loves buying a bouquet of roses, but few get to experience growing their own.

You’ve never made love. Tonight will be the first time.

And it will probably be the last.

You nod at Jungkook stupidly, keeping your eyes on his just as he asked you to. Once he sees your eyes remaining on him, he starts slowly moving his hips. His cock slides in and out of you, your arousal can clearly be heard by the noises your cream coating his cock every time he slides in and out makes. It’s beautiful.

This is beautiful… and so goddamn tragic.

He’s also fighting tears. Because, unlike you, he has made love before… or thought he did. He swore on his wedding night he made love to his wife, but it was nothing like this. You’ve barely even started, and he can feel the stark difference. God, it makes him question fucking everything. He never felt this way with his wife, with anyone, only ever with you.

But now isn’t the time to think of such things, to dissect the fact that maybe what he had with his wife was never actually love, but comfort. Now is the time to share your love together, one last time.

He starts moving his hips a bit faster. His arms reach under your body and wrap around you, trying to get as close as humanly possible. He rests his forehead on yours, keeps his eyes on yours, too. He starts panting, is fighting back tears. He is trying so hard not to cry right now.

“I love you.”

Fuck.

You let out another stuttered breath, and then your breathing picks up entirely as you fight back tears. Your arms are wrapped around him now, nails digging into his back like you’re afraid he will float away. Because you are, you’re so scared that if you let go, he will disappear. You don’t want him to disappear.

He starts pounding a bit deeper, grunting with each deep thrust as he grits out again,

“I love you.”

Fuck he needs to stop.

“Jungkook— nngh… don’t…”

He shakes his head, his breathing heavier, and his thrusts bordering on aggressive now. That’s not abnormal for him; sex with you both is regularly rough. But this is so different. It isn’t the dominating kind of aggressive but desperate, full of passion and love and grief.

“No, Y/N, look at me. I love you. I fucking love you so much, Y/N. I love you.”

And you break.

Crying for you also isn’t abnormal during sex with him specifically. It’s always intense, so sometimes you cry. Not out of sadness or pain; it just happens sometimes. He came to learn that quickly.

But just like how he’s making love to you, these tears are different. You’re weeping for the loss of your lover, but also because you are still so full of love for him. You’re crying because for the first time since this mess started between you, you believe him when he says he loves you. Deep down in your core, in every single crack and crevice of your being, you feel his love for you.

You see it in his eyes as he looks at you, you feel it in the way he touches and kisses you, you hear it in the way he speaks to you when he says it. He loves you so fucking much, and you regret refusing to see it until your last night together. You wish so badly you could have savored his love more seriously rather than deny yourself of it.

You wish things were different.

So you cry for him. The moment the first tear falls, you don’t hold back. You let out something between a moan and a sob as he fucks his cock into you, and his hips stutter when he realizes you’re crying. He didn’t want you to cry, fuck, he doesn’t think he can handle that right now without crying himself. He just wanted you to know, needed you to know that you are loved by him. So fucking loved.

He keeps his eyes on yours, watches the tears fall. He tilts his head slightly and starts kissing the tears away, even as they continue to fall. Greedily kisses them away because they are for him. This will be the last time you water his fully bloomed flower, so he will be greedy. Because he knows that after this, his flower will wilt away, maybe he will, too. So he lets you cry and he kisses and fucks you through it.

He feels himself getting close, his cock starting to twitch and his hips grinding harder into your pelvis. He feels you getting close, too, the way your cunt starts pulsing in rhythm with his cock. You’ve never come at the same time before. He hopes that tonight, he can make it happen.

“Fuck, you feel like home… I love you so much…”

A strangled sob escapes your throat at his words. It’s like he can’t stop saying it, can’t get the words out of his mouth enough. You’ve yet to say it back because you’re afraid his glittery eyes will water, too. But god, you need him to know.

“I love you too, Koo… more than anything…”

And you were right. Hearing you say it amidst your tears, combined with the way your pussy starts rippling around his cock, throbbing and clenching directly after you say it, it’s too much.

He cries. Tries to hide it with a moan, but it’s no use because his tears fall onto your cheeks. You both start crying harder, and he starts fucking you faster. His arms tighten around your waist, and he starts kissing you. Lets you taste your melded tears, his sorrow, his devotion, his love all poured out into this kiss and his tears.

You both water each others flower for the last time.

You feel the familiar pressure building as you kiss him back, your tears mixing with his, the taste addicting. You hate seeing him cry; you know it’s going to haunt you for weeks. But right now, you’re consumed with wanting to be as close to him as possible, and you want to share this moment with him.

You wrap your legs around his waist, and your hips start matching his thrusts. The kiss turns a bit sloppy and uncoordinated because he’s very clearly about to cum; you can feel his cock start twitching and pulsing aggressively inside of you.

“I love you, Y/N. I love you. I. Love. You.”

He groans loudly, his voice sounds strained and distraught. “Come with me.”

You assume he means he wants you to cum at the same time as him. He wants you to cum together, which is definitely going to happen; you feel the string about to snap on both sides.

But really, it had dual meaning. Cum with me, but also come with me. Anywhere, everywhere, please run away with me, please love me forever and ever, please save a piece of your heart for me, please don’t stay away from me forever.

One last thrust and his pelvis grinds into yours as his balls draw up taught. He whimpers into your mouth, and his pelvis grinding into you, mixed with how fucking deep his cock is inside of you, is enough stimulation to your clit to cause you to hurl over the edge a second time. You cream all over his dick, your hips writhing beneath him as you whine and moan into his mouth. His cock jerks hard inside of you, shooting hot ropes of cum that seem endless. Your souls meld together much like your tears do, and you both cum harder than you ever have.

It’s like, in this moment, you are one. You both share a garden, flowers at full bloom, no pesky cages or fences to hinder you from flourishing together. There’s sunlight, and bees, and soil, and plenty of water. It’s peaceful, it’s heaven, it’s home. It’s where you both swear you belong.

Both of your orgasms seem to last eternally. It’s endless, his cock jerking and spurting in rhythm to the way your pussy milks him and pulses around him. He stays buried to the hilt until his cock tires out and your pussy stops milking him.

Even after, he stays like this. You both say nothing as you silently cry together, still connected intimately as you share little kisses between tears.

You made love. He made love to you.

You know damn well you’re ruined for any other man going forward after that.

He exhales a shaky breath and starts peppering your face with little kisses. Despite the tears, he feels lighter than before. There’s still that impending sense of doom, but he knows in his heart that you know he loves you now. That’s all he wanted from tonight…

And despite the sex being pretty vanilla compared to what you usually do, Jesus fuck, that was the best sex he’s ever had.

As he attempts to kiss all of your tears away, he starts whispering the sweetest shit to you, even as he continues crying.

“My baby…”

Kiss.

“My love…”

Kiss.

“My pretty girl…”

Kiss.

“My angel…”

Kiss.

“My heart…”

Kiss.

“My soul…”

Kiss.

“My fucking everything…”

Kiss, kiss, kiss.

Fuck, it makes you swoon hearing all of those sweet words. Not sweet nothings, but sweet declarations. Pure truth. You are and have been his everything despite how fucked up it all is.

You always will be. Fucking always.

You cry a bit harder, nearly blubbering now. He keeps crying, too, not quite as hard as you because he doesn’t want this to be harder for you than it already is… but he knows the moment he leaves you in the morning, he will cry twice as hard.

You realize you’re still clinging to him; there are definitely going to be red marks all over his back. Your legs are still wrapped around his waist, keeping him buried inside of you because that’s where you swear he belongs. He would agree with you.

But you remove your hands from his back and bring them to cup his face, and you feel so fucking drained from the intense sex and crying and the entire goddamn rollercoaster of today… but you don’t want it to end. Fuck, you’re so afraid for it to end.

You place a soft kiss on his lips, “I love you. I really do. Always have, always will, forever and ever…”

He smiles sadly down at you, nods. Because he knows. He never once doubted how much you loved him; every single time he was with you, he felt your love. Even when you were mad at him, you made him feel loved. He wishes so badly that he could’ve made you feel as secure as you made him feel.

You will never know how utterly thankful for you he is.

“I know baby, I know…”

You let out another choked sob and bury your face in his neck. He lifts himself off of you slightly, and he moves himself so that he’s lying beside you instead of on top of you. You cling to him again, refuse to let him go. Can’t. Won’t. Don’t want to. Can’t fucking bear it.

He gently slips his cock out of you and then wraps his arms around you, one hand coming to cup the back of your head and stroke his fingers through your hair, the other rubbing your back soothingly.

You cry and cry and cry. It’s pitiful how hard you’re crying; if anyone saw you right now, they’d be certain someone had died. It really feels that way, as if he’s dying while holding you right now. He feels like he’s dying watching you crumble like this, but he doesn’t dare stop you.

He doesn’t even reassure you because all that would do is give you false hope for something that may not happen ever again. For all you know, after this, you will never cross paths. He may just become a ghost to you…

A flower that bloomed in the spring and died come winter.

There were so many things you wanted to do tonight. You wanted to shower together, wash his hair for him, show him how to bake those cookies you know he loves, stay up and talk about a bunch of pointless shit, rewatch your favorite movies together, fuck a few more times, choke on his dick one last time, kiss him and touch him all over all night. So so so much more.

You didn’t want to stop here. You wanted to stay awake and savor every last second together just as greedily as him. But god, as you sob in his arms, you feel yourself growing so heavy with exhaustion that you can’t keep your eyes open.

“Don’t let me fall asleep, Koo, make me stay awake…”

He buries his face in your hair, his tears making wet patches in your strands. He inhales deeply just to get another whiff of your shampoo, fuck, he needs to figure out which one it is before he leaves so he can buy it and use it. Doesn’t even care if it’s weird. Wants to smell like you. Wants to be surrounded by reminders of you forever.

Like you, he’s been crying this whole time but so quiet that you don’t even realize it. He made sure you wouldn’t realize it. This is your time to get comfort from him, he can’t offer you reassurance, but he damn sure can comfort you through the pain that is his fault.

“Rest, baby… I’m here…”

You shake your head at him, keep your face buried in his neck even as your eyes start to lull shut.

“No, slap me, keep me awake… don’t wanna… sleep… please…”

He can feel your body start to go limp, can feel your tears running down his neck. He knows you’ll be out cold soon. You were fighting a battle you just couldn’t win, and god he wishes he could keep you awake. But he knows you’re emotionally overloaded right now…

And maybe if you fall asleep in his arms, you’ll rest peacefully for tonight. You deserve that, he thinks. You deserve so much peace and happiness.

“It’s ok Y/N… I got you. Just sleep. My baby needs rest, hm?”

You try so fucking hard to respond. But he’s right; you’re fighting a losing battle. Your body can’t keep up with your brain to the point you’re slurring your words. Maybe it’s the after-effects of a fight or flight response because it really felt like you were fighting for your love when making love tonight… fighting to keep hold of his roots as they slowly became untwined from yours. And now, you’re simply too tired.

“I… I love you… so… much…”

He lets out a shaky breath and closes his eyes. Holds you a little tighter. Because, fuck, your last words before lulling into a deep sleep were that you loved him. It’s as it should be, but for some reason, it wrecks him, knowing that this is the last time he will hear them.

When your breathing evens out, he pulls back, stares at you. Your brows are furrowed even in sleep, clearly troubled. But you don’t stir and your grip on him loosens. You are so fucking beautiful. He wishes so badly he could just stay like this, watching you rest, in your arms while you’re in his.

Holding each other, as if you’re both one person instead of two.

He knows he won’t sleep tonight. He’s just as overwhelmed as you, but instead of his body shutting down, his adrenaline has spiked. He’s dreading leaving this bed, dreading leaving you.

He stares for an almost pathetic amount of time. Just lays beside you and takes in every soft detail of your face, traces his fingertips over your features. He finds himself wondering, what if he married you instead? What if you met sooner? What if you lived with him and had his babies one day?

What if… he left his wife?

He has to stop himself there. He makes a pained noise and buries his face in your hair again because he knows he can’t think like that. He could leave his wife; he probably should, but he feels like he owes her his life, his devotion. He married her, for fucks sake.

And even if he did leave, he doubts you’d ever be capable of having a healthy and stable relationship. People in these situations rarely do; it’s a form of karma, he thinks. Husbands who cheat and marry their mistresses often get cheated on, or they end up do it again.

He swears, fucking swears on his life that he would never do that to you. But he knows you probably wouldn’t trust him; any woman in your situation wouldn’t. You’d always be left wondering if he’d turn around and do the same to you one day.

Oh, Jungkook, how badly you’ve fucked up…

He has no idea how much time has passed by the time he checks the little alarm clock on your bedside table. He honestly can’t recall when he got here or what time ‘one more night’ started, but as of now, it’s 5 am.

He wants to stay. Wants to fall asleep holding you, wake up and make you breakfast, draw you a cozy bath and massage your back for you… wants to treat you as a lover would.

But he knows that if he doesn’t leave soon, he won’t leave at all. The moment you open your eyes, he will beg again. He will cry and beg and plead for you to change your mind.

Which is way too selfish, considering he’s still a coward, still unwilling to leave his wife both out of fear and knowing the reality of what happens once he does.

So he places one last kiss on your forehead, breathes you in one last time, and then quietly extracts himself from your hold. Standing up and getting off the bed, he looks down at you.

He swears he can see the exact place you keep his stolen heart inside of you. He doesn’t want it anymore, it’s yours. Always will be.

He slowly starts dressing himself again with robotic-like motions. He isn’t crying anymore; he feels kind of numb at this point, or maybe his tears have just run out.

Acceptance? Or the calm before the storm? He isn’t sure.

He doesn’t bother taking a shower; can’t be bothered right now even if he smells like sex… smells like your sex specifically. He can blame it on being lazy, but he knows it’s because he wants your smell to linger a bit longer. He will shower later.

Once fully dressed he pads his way into the living room, grabs the bag full of stuff he packed for you. He takes it back into your bedroom and sits it at the end of the bed.

He carefully collects each Polaroid he took of you for himself and stuffs them in his wallet for safekeeping. After nearly considering changing his mind and taking the camera greedily, he decides he’ll leave it for you, even though it was a gift you got him. He knows you love it, but also knows you’d never buy one for yourself. And if he’s being honest with himself, he doesn’t think he could ever use it again without thinking of you. It would feel wrong to use it without you.

So he sets that on the end of the bed. He opens the bag, carefully takes out the clothing he packed for you, folds them, and arranges them in a neat pile. Next, he takes out the box of Polaroids; he made sure to put a label on it before coming that said ‘For Y/N.’ He sets the box next to the clothes and then carefully places the chain he packed on top of the pile of clothes.

He wants to arrange it almost as a surprise, hoping it’ll feel more like a gift and not so much like a goodbye this way.

Now that the bag is empty, his intrusive thoughts return. He wants so badly to turn into a little thief and take some of your stuff, too. You would have gladly offered it to him, anything he wanted, but you’re asleep. And he can’t stay much longer.

His intrusive thoughts win, and he can’t find himself feeling too guilty.

So he reaches down and grabs the panties you had on earlier, the same panties that he sucked on like a damn popsicle, and he puts them in the bag.

He quietly makes his way into your bathroom, looks around for a moment until he finds exactly what he’s looking for: the star pimple patches. He takes them, noticing that they’re in a cute little case with a face on it. He knows you love these things; they make pimples feel less like some kind of imperfection. He loves them, too. They remind him of a time when you showered him with love.

You won’t miss them, he thinks again. Not as much as he’ll miss you.

He greedily holds onto them, looks around to see if there’s anything else he can steal. He sees your scarf hanging on the back of your bathroom door; it was the scarf you wore one of the first times he took you to dinner. It’s honestly kind of ugly; it’s a dark and muted plaid, but you loved it because of how soft and warm it is.

It smells very strongly of you.

It’s his now.

He takes the scarf and decides that’s enough. He’s greedy, but he’s not an actual thief. Maybe more like a rat. As much as he wants to steal your shampoo, he decides just to make a mental note of the name because he knows you'll need it to shower when you wake up.

He stuffs the patches and scarf into the same bag and stands before you on the bed. Fuck. He doesn’t want to go. He doesn’t want to leave you.

But now is the perfect time; you’re sleeping soundly, dead to the world. If he leaves like this, there will be no hysterical begging or crying from either party.

Still, he finds himself procrastinating. He decides to open the box of Polaroid photos he packed just to make sure none of the ones he kept for himself snuck their way in. They didn’t. He knows they didn’t. But never hurts to double-check.

He comes across one photo in particular… it was a photo he took one night after you both had some very intense sex. He rented a motel that night because he was in Busan for business, and of course, he dragged you along with him. Busan is his hometown, and his wife has always hated it. She was born and raised in Seoul and always claims Busan is too boring, not lively enough. She always refused to go with him, even if it was to visit his parents.

You, on the other hand, you were so fucking excited to go. You talked his ear off the entire ride there, and once you arrived, you were so interested in everything around you. It was so fucking sweet because you told him the reason you were so excited was because it was a part of him. He was born here, which makes the place sacred. It was dramatic, but god, it was precious.

After you guys fucked that night, you both showered together. You got out of the shower before him, and you snapped a few pictures with the Polaroid; he made sure to put those in the box for you. At some point after, you were lying in the bed watching some cartoon on the motel TV, and he was smoking a cigarette. He noticed a vivid handprint from where he was slapping your ass while fucking you from behind. It was the first time he wasn’t really concerned about it, but proud. Because in some fucked up way, he marked you, even if it was temporary. You were his, and even if you doubted it, he was yours.

It was the same feeling he got tonight when giving you those hickeys. Just a little reassurance that you belong to him.

He took the photo to kind of solidify the feeling, preserve it. It was very aesthetically pleasing. One of his favorites, he’s realizing. He almost wants to take this one.

But instead, he decides to leave it with you, and before he does so he grabs a pin from your desk and writes:

I won’t let you forget us

-Kook

It’s cryptic, he knows. Maybe it’s selfish to leave a message like that… but perhaps it’ll keep you open for him. Not that he expects you to wait for him to get his shit together, god never. But maybe you’ll allow him to check on you now and then, maybe you won’t block his number, maybe, just maybe, you’ll save a piece of your heart for him…

He sets the photo down on top of the pile of folded clothes and steps back. He looks at the clock again, sees that it’s now 5:50 am. He has no idea how time passed that quickly because it only felt like maybe ten minutes had passed. He must have been moving slowly; his brain must have realized how much he was fighting this inevitable end.

As he stares down at your sleeping form, he genuinely considers staying. Considers refusing to leave.

And that’s exactly why he chooses this moment to leave. He has to get the fuck out of here before he does something stupid.

He walks over to you once more, leans down, and places a kiss on your forehead, then your cheek, then your chin, and starts peppering your face with kisses all over again. His heart is pounding fast, and he has the urge to run. With one last kiss to your lips, he yanks himself away and grabs the bag now full of items that don’t belong to him.

He wants to take in your space one last time, wants to linger and look around because this has been his safe space for literal months. But he fucking can’t. He feels his resolve weakening quickly by the second and knows one more second here, and he won’t leave.

He quickly makes his way out of your apartment, is nearly panting as he walks out of your complex and down to his car. His hands are shaking, his heart is beating at a scary pace, and he starts to feel fucking sick.

He borderline throws the bag in his back seat, and then gets into his car quickly. His hands shake so severely that he fumbles with his keys as he starts the engine. The moment the car turns on, he’s peeling out of the parking lot.

It wasn’t acceptance. It was indeed the calm before the storm.

He’s never felt like this before. He feels nauseous and almost panicky as he drives robotically down the morning streets of Seoul. His breathing is coming in so fast he gets dizzy.

It all hits him at once. This is the end. FIN. Over.

He swears he feels his flower die at that very moment. It wasn’t uprooted and moved to another garden; someone fucking stepped on his fully bloomed Bearded Iris. One second he was thriving, flourishing, and now he’s fucking dead.

He doesn’t even recognize the sounds of his own choked sobs as he drives down the street. He can’t breathe. He can’t fucking see. He feels like he’s dying, truly, he almost considers calling for help because he feels so full of despair and grief.

But who would he call? His wife? That's a fucking joke. You? He can't call you anymore. He can't call his friends either because none of them know. He's on his fucking own now.

Nothing could have prepared him for what it feels like to grieve the death of a love who is still alive.

He ends up pulling into a random parking lot once he’s a safe distance from your apartment. He slams his palms on his steering wheel and just fucking bawls. Tears fog his eyes, and he sounds almost childish because of the force in which he’s crying.

He knew the day he lost you would be the day that that he died. And right now, he is dying for you.

It isn’t until 10 am that you stir awake. You instinctively reach for him, but your hands only find cold sheets, meaning he left a while ago…

You didn’t expect him to leave so soon. You expected to be able to wake up to him one last time, so you’re disappointed when you realize his clothes aren’t on the floor anymore, and you don’t hear the sounds of him awake and making coffee in the kitchen.

But you suppose that was a smart move. If he had stayed, it would have just made it harder for you both, most likely.

You feel oddly… numb. As of now, no sadness. The only thing you feel is almost like a little zap in your chest; it’s subtle, to the point you aren’t even sure if it’s really there.

It’s off. Somethings not quite right.

You ignore the weird hollow feeling as you sit up and stretch; you realize you never showered, and you smell heavily of sex. So you get out of bed, and you make your way into your bathroom. You start the shower after using the bathroom, and as you wait to warm it up, you look at yourself in the mirror.

Fuck.

You are literally littered with marks. Your neck, all the way down to your chest, all the way down to your thighs. Purple and pink love bites all over you. He seriously fucked you up.

You feel that zap again.

You shake your head and tear your eyes away from the mirror, don’t notice how your star patches are missing from your skincare tub on your bathroom counter yet. You step inside the shower and spend a good while letting the hot water wash over your body, washing the remnants of sex and sweat off of your skin.

After about half an hour, you step out. Dry off. Get dressed. That’s when you walk back into your bedroom and notice the pile of clothing sitting on your bed. Clothing that isn’t yours.

You slowly approach it and quickly recognize the strong scent lingering on it: his cologne. You unhurriedly pick up each piece of clothing, see the shirt and hoodie you often attempted to steal from him, accompanied by one of his favorite jackets.

He left pieces of himself for you.

Zap.

You set them aside and pick up the chain and photo. Fuck, you love his chains. You always loved them because, one, they’re fucking hot, and two, you loved how they would dangle above you when he was fucking you. You doubt he realized it, but sometimes you’d bite it as he was fucking you, tug on it like a damn dog playing with their favorite chew toy just to see if it would break. It never did, and you never stopped being fascinated with his jewelry.

Zap.

You look at the photo and immediately recall the memory. Busan, now one of your favorite places, all because of him. It was such a good little trip. You tried a lot of street food you never had before, saw a lot of pretty things, and he fucked you beautifully that night. It was rough, passionate, and he left hand prints on your ass, and much like him, you loved it. This was one of your favorites, for sure.

But then you read the note.

I won’t let you forget us.

Zap. Zap. Zap.

You drop the photo and the chain on top of the clothes, let out a shaky breathe. Still, you aren’t really feeling much, maybe a bit of nostalgia accompanying the zaps… but no despair, no yearning or grieving…

Calm before the storm.

You decide you need some coffee and painkillers. You have a lingering migraine from all of the wine and crying last night, so you leave your bedroom and make your way into the kitchen.

You start making your coffee and swallow the painkillers dry. You lean against the counter as your coffee brews, then freeze when you look at the floor.

The purple wild flower lays there, stepped on by he-who-shall-not-be-named’s boot. Wilted and destroyed, the petals disconnected from the stem.

The flower is dead.

And now you break.

Those zaps you were feeling, you suddenly understand. It was your fight or flight kicking in again, and instead of your brain responding to it, it blocked it out.

Can’t fight it now.

You drop to your knees, start breathing heavily because you feel like someone placed bricks on your chest. Your heart aches, literally, it hurts, it feels like it’s going to explode and you feel like you can’t breathe at all.

You start crying again… no- you’re fucking wailing. You’re crying out for the loss of your flower, for the death of a lover who isn’t even dead, much like Jungkook had earlier.

It finally hits you that he isn't coming back. He's gone, and now, you're expected to move on. Your heart aches for him. Without him, do you even have a heart?

No, you really don’t, not right now anyway. The moment he stepped out that door, he took it with him. He fucking stole your heart just like he stole your pimple patches and perfume.

All you can do is cry for him, except right now, you don’t have him to cling to for empty comfort. Instead, you reach for the dead wildflower, hold it in your palm, bring it to your chest, and cradle it close as if you can somehow bring it back to life.

Bring him back to you.

Little do you know, he’s currently curled up in his bed at his second apartment. He hasn’t stopped crying since he left. He went back home, took the stolen perfume, and sprayed it all over his damn bed, and now he’s hugging a pillow as if it’s you. Imagining that it’s you, that this is all just a horrible dream, and he will wake up soon.

Both of you are lovers, stars who collided, planets who aligned, flowers who grew side by side.

But it was at the wrong time. And now you’re paying the consequences of your paths crossing when they shouldn't have.

So far away in the matter of hours when you were once so close, yet you’re both doing the exact same thing; clinging to shreds of each other and wishing so fucking badly that things could be different.

Both of you left each other without returning your hearts. Both of your flowers got stepped on instead of uprooted and re-planted somewhere safer.

Spring has passed, no longer bees buzzing and flowers blooming, but the cold harsh winter is coming.

It will be a while before either of you bloom again, if at all.

#bts #jeon jungkook #jungkook fanfic #18+ only #bts fanfction #bts fanfic #bts imagines #bts smut #jungkook #jungkook angst #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x you #jungkook fluff #i love jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jungkook fanfiction

237 notes · View notes

woncon · 10 months

Text

➳ bunnytalk

➶ bunny!jungkook x owner gn!reader ｡˚ °

-ˏ` ✎﹏ your hybrid is acting strange lately. When you're not enough to help, you call Seokjin over to check on Jungkook. The diagnosis is shocking.

➴ genre: hybrid au, hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, vet!seokjin, shy!jk

: ̗̀➛ warnings: jk is a bunny hybrid, reader is anxious bc jk's sadness

⌨ :: 2.4K words ♡ ︵ . .

⁀➷ thanks to @wonsheep for helping me fix my grammar mistakes and for giving me advice how to convert a whole story into another language precisely °♡̷•.

➳ bts masterlist | main masterlist

You ran through the aisles of the store as if you were being chased. And you really were, but the thing giving you chase had already caught up: the gray anxiety was perched on your shoulders, pressing along your joints like a sloppy masseur.

Salad. No need for a doctor, just a salad.

This was your mantra, with which you tried to control the despair, to slow down the panic that insinuated into your blood. With trembling fingers, you shoved the right products into your basket, and then you were already scrambling for the next ingredient.

Carrot, lettuce, cucumber, tomato, purple cabbage, corn - as Jungkook likes it. As soon as you had everything, you hurried to the cash register. The marble screeched under your feet as you suddenly stopped to avoid bumping into the person in front of you in the line. The man turned to you in disdain, but that was the least of your concerns right then. You had to make the salad: that was the most important thing. The fact that you were dead tired, that you did not plan on coming to the store, what you wanted to do half an hour ago, or what the guy thinks is completely negligible.

The only person standing before you in line was that guy, and he didn't buy anything other than some yogurt, bread and beer, still, you felt that the slowing factors took too long. For example, the cashier boy who scanned the products you were about to buy with a broad half-smile.

"Light dinner?"

"Yeah. For my hybrid."

Before the boy could speak - forcing his phone number into your hand, asking for a date or keeping you there with questions or more words - you stuffed the last carrot into your bag, scattering the money in front of the other.

"Bye!"

You dashed out of the store into the early evening cool, and ran home.

You hoped something had changed, but no. Jungkook was still curled up on the sofa, unmoving. Taking one look at him was enough to increase your concerns. You threw yourself into the kitchen. The vegetables were scattered on the counter, the tools clattered from the drawer to them, and the water was gurgling noisly from the tap. Your hair and clothes stuck to your sweaty skin. Fear gripped your heart like a baby holding onto its mother.

No need for a doctor. I can solve it myself.

Although you worked hard, and almost cutting your skin in your rush, the encouraging thought meant less and less, your hope faded into inconceivability with the passing of time.

"Kook? What's wrong?" The boy could always turn to you with his problems, and this turned out to be valid the other way around as well. Jungkook's wise insight and cheerful attitude have helped you a lot since you started living together. In addition to the owner-hybrid relationship, you were also roommates and friends.

When you first saw Jungkook on the couch, you thought he was sleeping. In the beginning of you two living together, the boy often slept with his eyes open, closing them only after full trust had been established. By the way, this wouldn't have been the first time that he fell asleep on the couch. But this was different. You wanted to tuck him in, and the boy's gaze focused on you, then he stared ahead again, uninterested. He also blinked.

He wasn't asleep at all.

Jungkook didn't answer. You weren't freaked out yet. Jungkook had instinctive actions and behaviors, but he was unable to verbalize them. He once summed it up by saying that in such cases the rabbit is the master, who only communicates through action.

"If you can't talk about it, just nod or shake your head." You waited half a minute. "Did I hurt you with something?"

You were about to caress his arm, but Jungkook pushed you away before you could touch him. Then you understood, something really must have happened. Not only was the boy not in the mood, he didn't want any of your company either. This has never happened before. In addition, the warning signs were lining up: him cowering, ears flattened, rejecting your approach.

The boy's rabbit self emphasized his condition. You heard somewhere - in a documentary, from a doctor friend, or maybe from one of your exes, who knows - that rabbits can be sick and depressed if they show these symptoms and don't eat.

So you, as soon as you realized, you jumped up, pulled your coat back on as you had just taken it off, and whirled through the streets to make Jungkook's favorite salad. Because if he eats, you won't have to be afraid, you would be enough to help.

The meal was ready in twenty minutes. Sighing, you headed into the living room to regulate your breathing. You couldn't know if you were overreacting or if such intense distress was justified. You were sure of one thing: how important Jungkook is to you, along with his physical and mental health.

"Kook?" You knelt in front of the couch again, this time balancing the dish you prepared. The hybrid didn't even turn to look at you now. You felt your heart cramp up. "Please." You put your elbow on the edge of the couch, pushing the plate closer to him. "Eat up."

If something didn't happen then, you would have cried. But luckily, Jungkook reacted: his nose moved, crinkling sweetly. He smelled the salad. Then his eyes searched for the source of the scent, but his hands still didn't reach for it. You already considered this a big step forward, you were a little relieved: when you put the first bite in Jungkook's mouth, you felt better. Jungkook started chewing. The sounds of his munching was music to your ears.

You didn't speak, but the more the boy ate, the more lively he became. His black ears slowly rose, and he pushed himself up into a sitting position too. Jungkook put the last lettuce leaf and piece of carrot in his mouth with his own hand. You sat next to him and watched him happily. You didn't dare to touch him yet.

After finishing the meal and placing the bowl next to the couch, the hybrid crouched down next to you uncertainly, seemingly trying to say something, but in the end he just nudged your upper arm with his nose, pushed it, then ducked under, still poking the body part. Jungkook let you know in rabbit language that he needed care and caress. You smiled, running your fingers through the boy's hair, fluffy ears nuzzling your neck as Jungkook snuggled into your shoulders, his muscular arms wrapped around your waist, cuddling close. You caressed his face, his shoulders, all along his back. The bunny grinded his teeth in satisfaction.

Everything was resolved, order was restored, you thought.

You were wrong.

Whatever was weighing down on Jungkook's soul, the problem didn't go away, the salad was merely a distraction for him. You were confronted with this the next morning, as the boy curled up in a lethargic state on the edge of the bed. Somehow you knew that salad wasn't going to help anymore here. The boy's entire body tensed up as if he was an angry stone statue.

There was no question that you wouldn't go to work. You rang your boss in your pajamas to tell him you were taking the day off. The latter reacted with complete understanding. Immediately after the end of the conversation, you called your doctor friend to come over.

"Y/N, you know it takes two for a hybrid. A doctor specializing in humans and a veterinarian. I'm only the latter. Namjoon is currently operating, so you need to wait."

"You will be enough. I can't bring Kook in. He doesn't move, doesn't speak. I think he has more rabbit-like problems."

"Okay, I'll be there in twenty to twenty-five minutes. Stay with him until then."

"I'm not going anywhere."

You did as you said. You carelessly threw your phone on the couch and retreated to the bedroom, laying down next to Jungkook. You scanned his stiff back muscles, and now you were completely devastated because you didn't know how to help. You wanted to give him at least a comforting hug to let him know you were there for him, but your approach was rebuffed with a grunt. Jungkook didn't want any of your company again.

Seokjin arrived as he promised, but for you, time was slowed down by your own grinding agony and terrifying visions. Hearing the knocking, however, time jolted back a little into its place. You jumped up and ran to the door. The man came in a doctor's coat, carrying a bag.

"Come." You grabbed Seokjin's hand, who would've protested and said something about his shoes. "It doesn't matter, just come."

You basically dragged him into the bedroom. Like a melancholic painting, there Jungkook was: in rolled up blankets, just staring at the wall. No happy colors, just gray, black and sad blue.

"Please, help him!" You dropped onto the bed, whispering your plea to your guest, who nodded and approached the patient.

"Hi, Jungkook. I'm going to run some routine tests on you, okay?"

"In this current condition, he doesn't like to be touched." You warned Seokjin.

"Don't worry, I won't hurt you." He put his hand on Jungkook's shoulder. The boy didn't react, just tolerated it.

Seokjin then checked his breathing, body temperature, and heart rate.

"That would be it, rest easy!" Seokjin headed outside and motioned for you to follow him with a jerk of his head. You obeyed. The man closed the door and settled down on the living room sofa. You sat down next to him, wringing your hands.

"What's up with him?"

"He's warm, but no fever. His heart rate is high, but that could also be from stress. I don't see any signs of sickness, but something really freaked him out. How long has he been like this?"

"I noticed yesterday when I came home that Jungkook was lying on the sofa and not moving. It's possible that he had been sitting like that for a long time. I made him a salad, then he got up and ate, but this morning he was curled up again."

"Didn't he get some sort of shock? Wasn't he acting strange before?"

You were about to say no when you remembered the past week and the incident the morning before.

"He pokes me a lot with his chin, bites me and licks my skin. Sometimes he even nips me. And after he got up yesterday, he ran around me like five times. In the meantime, he made a strange oinking sound."

You still remembered the boy's sparkling eyes when he stopped, his raised ears, his sniffing nose. His body stiffened with excitement. You didn't know how to react, so you just smiled and went to make your coffee.

And Seokjin started laughing. You stared at him in disbelief. The man snorted, still chuckling. You were about to punch him on the shoulder, but Seokjin - to his luck - spoke up.

"He loves you very much."

You knew that, you loved him too. But the way Seokjin emphasised his words somehow suggested something else.

"What do you mean?"

"You are his human owner. You act like one most of the time. To Jungkook, however, you are no longer just an owner. Biting and licking in rabbit language means a love confession. He also marked you with the scent glands under his chin as his property. And running means clear courtship. Since you didn't reciprocate that, he has to process that you rejected him, and it's hard when you're always around, wanting to touch him."

You had a revelation.

"I didn't know. If I had known - How can I undo it?"

"Why? You love him in the romantic sense?"

That was a pretty straightfoward question, but you knew the answer very well.

"Damn it! Yes! I'm head over heels for him. And yes, I do want to be with him. So how do I change my no to a yes?" All this flooded out of you: you were worried and nervous, you couldn't help it. You were at your wits end because of your own helplessness.

"Jungkook is not acting like a human right now. First, you have to make yourself understood by the rabbit living inside, only then you can tell the person your feelings. You have to become a rabbit and reciprocate the gestures with which he expressed himself to you."

Seokjin gave you instructions, then left. You were very grateful, but you couldn't express it properly yet, first you had to express something else to someone else.

You returned to the bedroom to confess to Jungkook with bunny talk. You laid down next to him again, this time taking care not to touch him with your hands, as you weren't needed as an owner or as a human. You swallowed nervously, then ventured closer to Jungkook's nape.

You bit him gently. Almost immediately after that, both of Jungkook's ears perked up, his body was tense in a different way: he was listening intently. Feeling thousands of butterflies with wings of hope in your body, you ventured further, licking along his artery. After this action, you moved away, blushing.

Jungkook sat up, facing you. His gaze was clear, peaceful, maybe a little disappointed, but mostly knowledge was visible in it.

"I love you."

"I know. Like a friend. I understand now."

"No." You scrambled to your feet, pulling him with you. You took some measurements to fit between Jungkook and the bed, moving him to the position you wanted to.

Then you ran around him several times, trying to imitate the strange sound that Jungkook also made, the kind of cooing.

When you stopped, your heart was pounding like a speeding train... Or like a rabbit hybrid who had just confessed their love.

"I love you," you whispered weakly. "I love you in this sense."

A huge grin appeared on Jungkook's face as he suddenly took you in his arms, spinning you around in the room and then finally threw himself along with you onto the bed.

In his happiness, he also did something that you as his owner and as a human immediately understood: he kissed you. Tenderly, softly, truly in love, and at the same time he held your face in the palm of his hand. As he leaned away, he covered his flushed face with his fluffy ears. He laughed.

"Kook..."

You were beautiful with a pleading blush. And your heart belonged to Jungkook.

So he kissed you again.

692 notes · View notes

makeyoumine69 · 11 months

Text

The Light in the Darkness

— PAIRING: Patrick Bateman x Fem!Reader

— SUMMARY: You like to think of yourself as a grown, independent person. But one day when the power goes off and you're all alone, your fear of the dark starts acting up and just then you realize how much you find comfort on Patrick's presence.

— CONTAINS: Fluffy romance, hurt/comfort, small mentions of panic attacks, soft but sassy Patty, pet names, a lot of hugs/kisses.

— WORDS: 1.7k

— SONG REC: Black Veil Brides - When They Call My Name

— A/N: This is dedicated to @sleeplessphantom. Love you bro, hope you like it!💞

— LINKS: [MASTERLIST] [support]💗

It was a normal evening, you were waiting for Patrick to come back home, sitting in the living room of his fancy apartment and watching the sky split into pieces every time the lightning flashed with a loud thunderclap. To be fair, you loved the rain and the fresh smell that came after a thunderstorm, but not when you were alone and especially not at night.

With a sad sigh, you tried to concentrate on reading, but when you realised that you were reading the same sentence for the fifth time in a row, you put the book on the coffee table and got up from the couch. Slowly, you walked towards the large window and closed your eyes, feeling a growing anxiety in your heart. You couldn't help but worry about Patrick and why he had to be so late, he hadn't told you about any events or business that he was going to attend, so these worrying thoughts kept spinning in your head like a perpetual washing machine. What if something happened to him? You shook your head (as if that would help you get rid of these silly concerns), but you still felt sad.

Sad and lost.

Taking a deep breath to calm down, you tried to think rationally, but when you imagined how Bateman would laugh about this whole situation and remembered his pretty smile, you felt even worse.

"Damn it, Patrick! Where are you?" You asked no one and sobbed as the panic hit you hard, all those horrible outcomes like the one of a car crash or even a burglar attacking him with a gun started running through your restless mind.

Right when you were about to call his office, a huge flash of lightning came on, illuminating everything around you, and then a disorienting thunderclap almost broke the window from how loud it was. You didn't even have time to scream because the entire district seemed to black out, sweeping you into the darkness — one of your greatest phobias.

You stood still for a moment, holding a phone in your trembling hand and feeling the air stuck in your lungs. Why did all this happen when you were left alone in the big flat, and only God knows what creatures might be hiding in the shadows — Oh, hell no! Scared, you put the phone down and sprinted to the bedroom, the endless flashes of lighting brightening your way.

Shivering, you weren’t even thinking when you climbed into the bed and hid under the covers. You knew it wouldn't help, but somehow you felt safer lying there, the sheets smelling of him, his scent oddly soothing. You closed your wet eyes and tried to get some sleep, deciding that it’s the best that you could do in this situation. You wished that when you opened your eyes you would find yourself wrapped in Patrick's strong embrace. Because at the end of the day - nothing lasts forever and even the heaviest rain would eventually stop. Using the blanket as your shelter from the outside world, you curled up on the bed and hugged the pillow, thinking of your beloved man, whose charming voice lived free in your head and was the only thing that helped you fall asleep.

Some time had passed, and the weather outside was getting better. You were finally at peace again. But when you heard the sudden sound of footsteps approaching the room, you froze in place and even stopped breathing for a moment. After some seconds of silence, you felt a brief touch on your small frame, which made you flinch away and almost scream.

"Whoa, whoa, calm down, Bunny! I'm not the Big Wolf, it's just me," as soon as you heard that voice you sneaked peeked from under the covers to see Bateman's amused face. "Good morning, babydoll."

The way he smiled almost made you cry in relief, so you just snuggled into him with all your strength, causing him to giggle and press you closer to his firm body.

"You’re finally back!!" You sobbed, clinging to his broad shoulders.

His perfectly sculpted eyebrows were now knitted together as he looked slightly confused. "Hey, what's wrong?" Patrick asked nervously, pecking your cheek and helping you to sit on his lap. "Did someone do something to you?"

You couldn't help but sneer, inhaling his scent as you hid your face in the crook of his neck. "No," you muttered, looking up at him, his hazel eyes scanning your features intently as if he was trying to find the answer in them. "It's just... I was afraid something might happen to you."

Bateman just snickered loudly and rocked you gently in his arms. "Like what?"

You paused and turned away from him, not really wanting to tell him things like that.

"Baby, talk to me." Patrick noticed your sad face immediately and gently held your chin to entice you to look at him.

"Well, I was thinking about you getting in a car accident or someone attacking you in the street and—"

He chuckled again and pulled you closer, his brawny hands continuing to stroke your body here and there, sending little shivers down your back.

"Sweetheart, I'm a big boy and I can protect myself." Bateman murmured and brought your palm to his pouty lips to plant a small kiss on it. "Besides, this is one of the safest areas in New York."

"I know," you hugged him again, trying to get as close as you could. "But just the thought of losing you made me sick."

As soon as you said those words, you heard him groan and you even thought he'd got angry for a second, but as soon as his warm, big palm cupped your face, you lost the ability to speak and think.

Looking deep into your eyes, Patrick murmured: "I'll never leave you, (y/n)," his thumb lovingly traced your lips, making you gasp silently. "I want you to remember that. Will you do that for me?"

You nodded and nuzzled against his hand.

"And I'm sorry for being late. I just got stuck in a fucking traffic jam," he frowned before pressing his forehead against yours. "I know you don't like to be alone, especially at night."

It was a little embarrassing to hear him talk about your fear of the dark, but it didn't matter now. After all, he was your light in the darkness, and you were his.

Smiling, you wrapped your arms around his neck, bringing him closer to kiss his lips. You quivered when he kissed you back even more passionately, but then he suddenly stopped.

"Patrick?" You asked him a little confused.

"Why didn't you change before you went to bed?" His stern voice made you fidget in your place. "That's not what good girls do."

Even though he wanted to sound stern, Patrick couldn’t hold back a little smile, which made you relieved.

"I needed to hide somewhere fast," you chuckled awkwardly. "That thunderstorm really scared me."

"Jesus," he let go of you and stood up. "I wonder what you are not afraid of."

As you watch him walk away, you sit on your knees and whimper. "Where are you going?"

Bateman stopped and turned, his cocky smile growing even wider. "I have to change and I'll bring you your nightgown. Since you couldn't do it yourself."

He winked at you before heading for the closet, and as soon as you lost the sight of him, you let out a sad sigh. Even if you were really afraid, who wasn't? Moreover, you doubted that Patrick was fearless too, he just never told you about his fears. Although he did mention one once — he was afraid of losing you as you were.

Trapped in your thoughts, you didn't even see him come back, wearing only his white underwear. Without saying anything, you smiled at him as he beckoned you to the edge of the bed.

"So tell me, little girl. Do you need any help?" His sweet voice was so captivating that you accepted his offer before even thinking about it. "Good."

Slowly he knelt down in front of you and began to remove your pants, leaving little hickeys wherever he could, starting with your ankles and then going up to your hips. When you were completely naked, he gently laid you on your back as he took his place next to you. Smirking at how cute you looked when you were embarrassed, Bateman darted his fingers across your belly, eliciting a sharp breath to erupt from your chest. The way he was touching you right now made you levitate.

"Mmmm, so gorgeous, so innocent," he whispered, sliding his hand along your rib bones. "My little Bunny."

Bateman matched his words with a sensual kiss on your lower abdomen, and you almost squealed at how hot his lips were — you could feel that he wanted much more. Patrick clearly intended to devour you here and now, his rapid breathing scorching your tender skin, but he stopped himself and finished his journey around your body, kissing you lovingly on the lips.

"Patrick, I—" you murmured as he pulled away to finally put a nightgown on you. "I love you."

Shyly, you looked at him as he laid down next to you and opened his arms for you.

"C'mere here, Bunny," he paused as he watched you climb on top of him, your head pressed against his buffed chest. "Are you comfortable?"

"Yeah, this is exactly what I need right now." You closed your eyes and felt his palm stroking your head.

"Sleep, my dear," he lulled you, cradling you like a treasure. "I'll protect you even from the daylight if I have to."

God, the feelings you had for this man were overwhelming, you wanted to scream how much you loved him, but now you slowly drifted off in his warm arms, feeling protected as never before.

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and turn on notifications to know when I update!

#american psycho #patrick bateman x reader #patrick bateman imagine #patrick bateman #patrick bateman x female reader #patrick bateman x you #slasher x reader #slashers x reader #slasher x you #patrick bateman headcanon #christian bale smut #christian bale x reader #patrick bateman reader #christian bale

696 notes · View notes

cerise-on-top · 4 months

Text

Hugging, Kissing and Cuddling HCs for König

I'm trying to see him in another light again after everything I've seen about him, so I decided I'd write something fluffy and nice for him. And then came the realization I never wrote some HCs like these for him in my original posts, so I decided I'd change that! He's Austrian, so naturally I have to love him!

When it comes to hugging someone, König is a bit hesitant. Considering he’s not the most physically affectionate person out there, it’s almost an honor to be receiving an unprompted hug from him. Whether his hugs are long or short depends on the occasion: If he’s proud of you for accomplishing something, then the hug will be rather short lived. Though, he might pick you up and spin you around until you’re dizzy. If you’re sad and need some comfort then his hugs could last a while. He’s not the best with words, he prefers to listen to other people, but if he knows a hug is what usually helps you then he’s willing to do so. Despite being a big and strong lad his hugs are surprisingly gentle, he’s worried about crushing you. He could put his all into them, but then you’d likely end up with a few broken ribs and he doesn’t want that to happen. König is also surprisingly warm, so receiving a hug from him is a rare, but nice experience. Although he does go rigid at the beginning, not knowing what to do, but relaxes into the hug eventually.

Again, he’s not a very physically affectionate person, but isn’t opposed to the occasional peck on the cheek or on your lips either. There is some anxiety whether you’d actually want a kiss from him or not, so he doesn’t kiss you very often, even if you do reassure him that it’s quite alright. He’s a bit tense at first when he presses a kiss to your lips, but calms down eventually. It’s especially bad during the beginning of your relationship, but he’s since gotten better at being calm about it. Since there’s a good chance he’s taller than you he loves giving you a kiss on the forehead. It’s a small but sweet gesture. He doesn’t need to bend down entirely to reach you but he still gets to be affectionate with you. However, if you’re on the taller side, or just as tall as he is, then he’d love to receive kisses to his temple from you. It makes him smile every time you do it. If he’s in the mood for receiving a kiss then he’ll lay his head on your shoulder and nudge you a bit. Or try to get his head in your closer vicinity. Kind of like that one bunny video where the bunny stretches to receive some kisses.

Cuddles with him are a bit more common than hugs actually. However, he refuses to lay down on top of you. If you’re shorter and weaker than him then there’s no chance he’ll put his weight on you, he’s just that afraid of hurting you. If you’re taller or just more muscular, then he might, but he’s still a rather heavy lad. Most he’ll do is put his head on your shoulder while you’re cuddling in bed and are both lying down. Although it’d be a lie to say he doesn’t want to be held. König is alright with being the one to hold you, but sometimes he would prefer to be the little spoon as well. That urge gets especially bad if you’re roughly the same size as him. Sometimes just nuzzling into your chest does the trick for him as well, though. Loves it when you run your fingers through his hair as he does so. Another thing he adores is you sleeping on his chest as he holds you. He gets to hold you close, he gets to protect you and he gets to doze off a bit himself, it’s bliss to him. Sometimes he leans down to press a kiss to your head and accidentally wakes you up like that. He feels bad about it and apologizes profusely, but does chuckle a bit when he sees your disheveled hair and your tired expression that shows you just woke up.

#cod #cod x reader #konig #könig #konig x reader #könig x reader #he actually kind of scares me these days even if I don't want that to happen in the slightest so I'm trying to desensitize myself again #I know people always joke about fanon könig vs canon könig but I think I will write him a bit softer with his s/o again #just to combat all those awful things I've seen about him that I don't want to be true and that I also want to forget about #könig is a big lad so I knew from the beginning I wanted him to be good at hugging because this is self indulgent #I feel like if it weren't for his anxiety he'd be much much cuddlier #because that's the case with me even if I have other things going on as well #and what is a funny character you write about if not another piece of yourself?#I've put so much of myself into some of these characters and yet people keep requesting them so I must be doing something right #it's more fun that way as well when you put your characters through something you've gone through. more relatable too #but I think that's something pretty much every writer does. that's why some requests are so difficult to write #I got one about marrying Laswell and Nikolai and that was a difficult request for me because the last wedding I went to #was my parents' and that was almost 18 years ago. man time flies I was 4 years old back then #so naturally I don't remember much either. But I tried and that's what's important!#either way please enjoy this piece of fluff I wrote today!

172 notes · View notes

arc-misadventures · 7 months

Note

A funny little idea that popped into my head with the bunny knight posts.

Rabbit faunus Jaune introducing his 'daughter' Juniper(small faunus version of the jackalope) to Velvet and her family

Little BunBun

Jaune was in the midst of a mission in a small village that had recently been attacked by, Grimm. Jaune, and his team had managed to defeat the, Grimm with minimal damage to the town. But, they were combing through the town checking the destroyed, buildings for any survivors, or if there may still be some, Grimm lurking about.

Jaune: Guys? How’s everything going; Any survivors?

Ren: None so far.

Nora: Found one! Pyrrha, give me a hand!

Pyrrha: On it!

Jaune: Need help?

Pyrrha: Don’t worry, I got him!

Jaune: Okay.

Jaune continued to walk through the town when he stopped abruptly, he heard some rustling in nearby bush. He raised his shield, and pointed his sword towards the sound. He slowly creeped forward, hearing the bush rustling more until it stopped when he came close. He bent down to look at the underbrush. And, saw something he didn’t expect.

Jaune: Oh… Well, hello there.

~~~

Jaune: So, yeah. That’s how all of this happened.

Velvet: Oh, that so sad…

Lulu: I can’t believe this could possibly even happen.

Ilaria: It’s more common than you may think… The same thing happened to me when we were younger.

Rumi: I have the scars to prove it.

Silk: And, it happened to this innocent child as well?

Lily: So… W-What’s her name?

Jaune: Oh yes, say hello to my adopted daughter, Juniper Arc. Say ‘hi,’ Juniper.

A small faunas girl slowly peaked out from behind, Jaune’s leg, before darting back behind his leg.

Jaune: It’s okay, Juni, they’re alright. Just like gramma, grampa, and all your crazy aunts.

The girl slowly appeared from behind, Jaune’s leg, and nervously waved at the, Scarlatina family.

Juniper: H-Hi…

Ilaria: Well, hello there sweetie, my name is, Iliara, it’s nice to meet you~!

Juniper: Hi…

Lulu: She’s so cute~!

Lily: Oh~! I want one~!

Silk: She’s already got eight aunts… What’s wrong with one more…?

Velvet: How about another sibling instead~?

Rumi: This is… giving me ideas…

Iliara: You look hungry, do you want something to eat dear?

Juniper looked at them before darting back behind her adopted fathers leg. Jaune could feel her shaking nervously against him.

Jaune: Sorry, she’s scared around other people because of… Because of stuff.

Silk: What stuff?

Jaune: Stuff.

Lily: Best leave it at that.

Jaune: Give her some time, and some space, and she’ll warm up to you all eventually. So long as you don’t do what my mother did…

Velvet: What happened?

Jaune: Well…

~~~

Juniper: SHE’S. SO. PRECIOUS!!!

Juniper, Jaune’s mother squealed in delight as she hugged her first grandchild. She didn’t care if she was adopted, all that she cared was that she finally had her first grandchild, and that she was absolutely adorable.

Everyone was adoring watching, Juniper embrace her new grandchild, except for two people; Jaune who knew, Juniper, his daughter, had anxiety issues when it came to other people, and Juniper, the child, who was in the midst of said anxiety issues as she frantically tried to get out of her overbearing grip on her.

~~~

Jaune: Yeah, she started to hide behind something whenever mom got too close for comfort.

Ilaria: Oh my.

Jaune: So yeah, please give her some space, and time.

Lulu: Can do!

Rumi: I’ll make sure the others give her some space.

Silk: I gotta take a photo of this!

Lily: Awwww~! The way she clings on to him is so precious!

Velvet: She’s just a scared little bunny rabbit.

Ilaria: She reminds me of you girls when you were her age. A whole litter of scared little bunnies. Ahh, you were so adorable.

Jaune: Yeah, she is a… Hmm? What is it, Juni?

Jaune bent down to look into the eyes of his daughter after she pulled at his pants leggings. Looking into her beautiful golden eyes as she cutely stared at her adopted father.

Juniper: Dad, i’m hungry.

Jaune: Alright, lets get something to eat dear.

Jaune picked up his daughter, and held her in his arms, and turned to address the, Scarlatina family.

Jaune: Sorry, ladies. The little lady is hungry. We’re going to grab something to eat. We’ll catch you all later. Say, ‘goodbye,’ Juni.

Juniper: Bye.

IRVLLS: Awww~!

They waved back at the little girl as they watched the father, and daughter duo leave.

Velvet: That is the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen.

Silk: I always had a feeling, Jaune would be a great father. And, he took to it like an eagle flying in the sky.

Lulu: Hey… Uhh…? D-Did any of you feel a sort of… throbbing feeling in your gut?

Lily: Now that you mention it, I kinda did.

Rumi: So did I.

Silk: Are we sick?

Velvet: I knew there was something off with that casserole we had yesterday!

Ilaria: Oh don’t worry, I know what this feeling is, I’ve had it before myself.

Silk: You have?

Ilaria: Oh yes, numerous times in fact.

Velvet: Then what is it?

Ilaria: A desire to do some baby making~!

Lily: WHAT?!

Lulu: That was my womb throbbing then?

Velvet: Did seeing, Jaune with, Juniper really do that to us?

Rumi: Dips.

Silk: Di…?! Fuck!

Lulu: Wait, are yoy two going to… with the aim of having his kids?!

Silk: I want to be a mom, and, Jaune has already proven he will be one hell of a daddy~! So why not?

Rumi: I’m at that age where I want to settle down, and have a family. Who better to do that with than, Jaune?

Ilaria: Care to make that a threesome sister? Maybe we can give our hips a break of we tag team him.

Rumi: Ha! That’s not gonna happen…

Ilaria: I know…

///

What do you think of the art? I couldn’t find any good art of a jackalope anime girl. So I found a cute bunny girl, and tweaked it so she looked like a faunas version of, Juniper.

Which was a nightmare to do that on my phone. Couldn’t get anything looking right…

Art isn’t mine.

#rwby #jaune arc #pyrrha nikos #lie ren #nora valkyrie #velvet scarlatina #juniper arc #rumi usagiyama

154 notes · View notes

strongheartneteyam · 9 months

Text

[ credits of the Neteyam pic go to @cinetrix ]

Champagne Problems

Part 4

Pairing: Neteyam Sully x female!human!reader

CW: sexual language, angst, past relationship trauma, touching in a sexual way, commitment issues, mentions of sex, trust issues, neteyam is head over heels for reader, fluff, a bit more about when neteyam and reader would see each other around before the beach party, mentions of drinking too much, reader is allergic to romantic feelings (but it's actually just her trauma talking), confessions of feelings, yearning, sexual tension, some funny vibes, heartbroken neteyam. Not sure if there's more. If there is, pls, tell me <3

Hi, hunny bunnies 💕 I'm really tired and sleepy rn (as I always am, right? lol) but I got inspo and finally got a break from my writer's block so I just rushed to wash the dishes as fast as I could and as soon as I finished it I ran to finish writing this chapter (a part of it had been sitting on my Google Docs for a while lol) and now I'm posting for you guys 🥰 Hope y'all like it and I'm so sorry for any mistakes or some parts that might not make total sense (if there are any lol who knows). I'm so sleepy that idk if I'll be able to proofread it completely now. But I will soon! Leaving comments down below will make this writer as happy as a kitten drinking milk teehee 😸 I LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH kiss kiss ‼️💌

Slightly proofread.

Part 3: I broke his heart 'cause he was nice

𓇼

My boy was a montage

A slow-motion, love potion

Jumping off things in the ocean

I broke his heart 'cause he was nice

He was sunshine, I was midnight rain

He wanted it comfortable

I wanted that pain

Midnight Rain (Taylor Swift)

𓇼

You woke up with a ray of sun shining way too bright directly at your eyes. You realized with a startle that you were in Neteyam’s arms and as you slowly became aware of your surroundings and your memory became clear… oh, shit… You had sex with him last night. No, no! Why did you drink those three glasses of champagne last night? Everytime you drank too much you ended up doing something stupid. Of course last night would not be an exception.

You could feel his slender, soft but toned legs intertwining with your much smaller ones. You felt his warmth, his strong arms holding your tiny in comparison figure, helping you stay warm even if the ocean breeze was chilly so early in the morning in Awa'atlu.

Neteyam's heart was big, very big when compared to the one of a human male, so, as he peacefully slept while embracing you, you could hear his heartbeat extremely clearly. It was soothing, though. A little louder than the human guys you had been intimate with previously and had slept by their side but it was calming. His embrace felt comfortable, like a place you could… call home…?

You felt a stab in your heart. Anxiety. Nervousness. Almost like a fight or flight feeling. No, you could not be getting attached.

His scent was good, cozy and you could easily get used to having it all over you, to wake up to that, to smell it on your clothes so very often.

And that thought scared you. Saying you had commitment issues was an understatement.

You felt Neteyam moving behind you. He was slowly waking up.

"Morning, oeyä sevin syulang" (my beautiful flower) His voice was hoarse as he had just woken up and he had a heavy na'vi accent when pronouncing the "R" in "morning". His accent lured you in way more than you liked to admit.

You hated how much Neteyam could make you feel vulnerable. You did not like the feeling of vulnerability.

Everytime you let a guy get on your vulnerable side before, you ended up sobbing while sitting on the floor, listening to a stupid, sad break up song and, sometimes, stuffing your stomach with chocolate, ice cream or pizza. And that was when you were able to eat. Sometimes the lump in your throat was so big you couldn't even swallow without being reminded of the pungent ache in your heart.

"Morning." You said nervously. It sounded dry. You did not mean to sound rude or distant but you ended up sounding exactly like that.

“Did you sleep well, tawtute?” Neteyam asked, his eyes still half lidded and he was smiling tenderly at you

Damn, you had to admit he was freaking cute when all sleepy like this. Just like a house cat waking up from a good deep sleep…

Ok, stop it!

“Uh… yes. Yes, I did sleep well. Thank you.” God, how awkward was that?

It seemed like Neteyam was too mesmerized by you to even notice your awkwardness.

“You’re beautiful. My sevin tawtute.” he said

“Wait, what?! Yours?!” you protested, a frown on your face

“Yeah.” Neteyam smiled, a bit sheepishly “Did I make you uncomfortable? I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.” his expression looked like he was being sincere

“It’s okay.” it was all you said

“I wanna tell you something.” Neteyam said, smiling softly though he was afraid of your reaction once he said what he wanted to say

“What in hell could he want to tell me? Oh, God…” you thought

“I…” he hesitated for a while. Was he getting shy? “I’m in love with you, (y/n).”

“You’re what?!” You sat up on the hammock in a swift motion

“See?! I should have never come here to meet him in the first place. That’s what you get for following your instincts and not your rational brain.” those words ran through your anxious mind

“Hey.” Neteyam said as he sat up too, trying to calm you down as you truly seemed alarmed. He smiled but you could tell there was tension all over him too. “Hear me out, please.” He pleaded. His tone was as calm as he could manage to keep it. “I just didn’t want to tell you because I could tell you’re afraid of falling in love. I’ve heard you talking to your girl friends about boys, about your lame ex boyfriends and how they made you want nothing to do with relationships anymore.”

“Were you spying on me?” You said, incredulous

“No, tawtute!” Neteyam chuckled at your accusation “It’s not like we’ve never been close to each other before the party. I know you’ve seen me before when you came to my tribe to conduct your scientific researches. I always made an effort to be around you, I just never approached you but I never tried to hide the fact that I had a crush on you. I was always staring at you. And I know you noticed!” He chuckled “One time you caught me staring from afar and met my gaze but you soon looked away and after that I started feeling like you were avoiding looking in my eyes again. Was I right?” he questioned, with his brows furrowed but he still didn’t seem to feel defeated. Even after you had reacted like you were afraid of his words, Neteyam still had his lips curled up in a slight smile.

You looked at him with eyes that let him know you were trying to conceal your embarrassment. You did know Neteyam had noticed you had been trying to avoid him at all costs as soon as you noticed he seemed to be attracted to you but having him throw that fact in your face felt surprisingly uncomfortable and your cheeks did get a little pinkish.

“Maybe I was.”

“Of course you were. Everybody noticed. Lo’ak even made fun of me for that.” he shook his head from side to side while chuckling at the thought of his younger brother teasing him

"I'm sorry." You couldn't help but laugh a little bit

"Don't apologize. It's fine. I like a challenge." He smirked at you in a flirtatious way

"Neteyam, I think we should-"

"Just let me tell you everything I need to, please!" He interrupted, almost begging you

You sighed "Okay…" You sounded tired and a little annoyed

"After I got a good chance to talk to you last night, at the party, I fell for you. Hard. It's not just a crush anymore." His pretty face looked happy while he confessed his feelings for you, even if there was a little bit of angst inside his chest "I didn't bring you here to my hammock just to fuck you. I brought you here to make love to you. It wasn't just sex for me. I wanna ask you to be my mate. I hope you don't run away scared now… 'Cause that would kill me, my sevin tawtute. You're so perfect... I wanted you last night and I know I will want you forever. Please, please, let me be your mate. Or your husband, as you humans say. I know it's unexpected and it seems too soon, but this is our way. My people don't necessarily have to know someone for a long time before choosing them to be their mate." He explained to you "I don't want to ever be away from you. I couldn't. Not now that I have talked to you, laughed with you, laid next to you…" He brushed his warm hand through the outer part of your thigh, moving it upwards "Felt your pussy around my cock, so soft and inviting, so warm and wet inside, all for me..." Neteyam's breath was a bit labored, his hand still touching your skin, while he whispered those dirty words to you, remembering what you two had done while it was still eclipse "Please, be mine."

"It'd be great." You said. Neteyam smiled widely, not being able to grasp the real meaning of your words "But it could never work. Not between you and me. Not between a na'vi and a human. I'm so sorry. I have to go. My friends must be worried about me. I didn't tell Adeline where I was going before I left last night. She must be worried sick. See you around. I guess..." You said, as you got out of Neteyam's big hammock, as fast as you could, feeling the warm beach sand covering your toes as soon as your feet hit the ground, leaving Neteyam confused, still trying to wake up from his wishes and touch reality.

He knew you were afraid of committing to a lifelong relationship but he thought that maybe you would say "yes" to what he was proposing to you. Or that you would at least ask for some time to think. Neteyam did not think you would reject him so fast and bluntly like that. Especially since he was used to having girls crushing on him and throwing themselves at him all the time. Not only na'vi girls, there were many human girls who tried to seduce him as well but even though he did feel attracted to some of them, he felt that there was always something missing. Neteyam did value personality a lot, even if he was just going to mess around with the girl, and none of the other human girls had a personality that he truly liked. But you did. And of course you would be the one to reject him. His ego was screaming like a spoiled little brat at that moment as he laid back at his hammock, throwing his body with full force against its surface and exhaling strongly in frustration.

There was a lump in his throat and his heart was hurting like never before. No girl had ever made Neteyam feel that way. All he wanted was for you to accept him, to want to be with him.

𓇼

Taglist:

@iman-lu

@leaveitbythewave

@creepytoes88

@live-laugh-neteyam

@swaggygurlbae

@neteluvr

@layla2-49

@a-blog-name-2003 (you left a cute comment on the last chapter so I figured you'd like to be tagged ♡ lemme know if I'm right in the comments pls lol)

@lala-1516 (you also left a nice comment on the last chapter so I'm tagging you baby <3 lemme know if u want me to keep tagging u)

@jakesullyfatjuicypeen

@yeosxxx

@iaratezaewa

264 notes · View notes

cultofdixon · 1 year

Text

Please, don’t leave

Daryl Dixon • She/Her Pronouns • Falling in love has its moments. With you and the youngest Dixon? Neither of you knew the other’s feelings. Life started to block that out…until the outbreak shook everyone still standing. Then as the gates opened, there you stood. • ANGST/SFW • TW: Anxiety Attacks / Past Abuse / Injuries / Scars / Canon Violence / Messy confessions • Flashbacks

Requested by: @ravenrose18

Once Y/N had finished barricading the door, she dropped her pack up against it before finally relaxing after running from a few mercenaries—at least that what she thought they were, and an approaching herd. Hence the barricading of the house she’s held up in until it passes.

She tiredly threw herself onto the couch in the room she was in, finding herself staring at the ceiling for an unknown period of time. Her exhaustion was starting to get to her the longer she laid there.

“Remember runnin’ from my old man?”

“How could I forget?” Y/N laughs bringing an arm behind her head for support. “Running from your dad was easier compared to mine. He didn’t like you”

“Mm. Yeah but at least I didn’t break your cheekbone before prom night” the youngest Dixon sat himself up against the couch fiddling with what looked to be a piece of tied string but it was a friendship bracelet he refused to wear. “Yea think you’ll make it out of here?”

“I’m still looking for you aren’t I?”

“Wouldn’t have to be looking if you didn’t run away in the first place” His words hurt, even if they were hers as she slowly fades into unconsciousness. “I’m still out there, bunny”

“You’re still out there…”

The youngest Dixon, Daryl Dixon, had one best friend in the world. Y/F/N Y/L/N. As sad as it was, you shared a lot in common with the whole abusive parent(s) making your life a living hell. But you had each other. It made life worth living having someone who understand and a gateway from the harsh reality.

But one night, Y/N ran away. From all of it. Leaving Daryl alone in the world to end up helping his brother with his illegal nonsense up until the outbreak happened. When he lost him too, he thought this was it for him.

Especially when his own arrow impaled him and the blood loss was too much.

Daryl did his best to keep awake, even if the world was sort of spinning due to the blood loss. He laid back for a moment, just a moment.

“You seem to be in a bit of a pickle, baby brother” Merle laughs kneeling to his side and resting his head in his hands. “Is this for Y/N? Searching for her again like you did countless times before we got stuck with this group”

“We…weren’t stuck with this group…they’re good people”

“That’s good. You deserve good people”

Daryl turns to the opposite side of his brother finding Y/N looking at him with that beautiful smile of hers.

“I came out here…for Carol’s daughter. She’s lost…and I can’t find her”

“She’s somewhere, D” Y/N reassures, at least what he needs to hear. “You’ll find her. And me”

“Why’d you leave” Daryl sobbed laying back into the dirt. “Why’d you leave me all those years ago…”

“Oh Daryl…” Y/N frowns bringing herself close to Daryl resting her hand on his chest. “You’re only going to hear what you want to hear…which will only be a possibility”

“Please don’t die…” He sobbed and next thing he knew, he was fighting off a walker.

The hours turned into days as Y/N didn’t know she was moved from her spot. Surprised she was even found. But when a certain someone who’s known to get in and out of places without a trace comes through the neighborhood in search for items, he managed to get into the house she barricaded herself in.

Next thing Y/N knew, she was waking in an unknown location without most of her clothes and an IV in her arm. Which only made her panic and rip the thing out. Because it’s the apocalypse, she hasn’t ran into those bastards yet. But she can believe that there are some sick fucks experimenting on healthy individuals with the undead walking around.

It didn’t click to Y/N that she wasn’t wearing pants and a shirt when she ripped the IV out and sprung up out of bed because again, she thought she was being experimented on. Being a horror fanatic in the old world sucks now. So when she stumbled out of the building…or trailer she was in. The community outside in that moment stared at her in her underwear and tank top which lead to her realization and quickly stumbling back into the trailer.

“Where the fuck am I” Y/N frowns pressing her back against the door before spotting a pile of neatly folded clothes on a chair. Something better not burst out of my chest (Alien) She thought as she approaches the clothes finding a note along with the pile but she ignored it to get re-dressed. Or a fucking little reptile jumping me and eating me alive (Jurassic Park) She groans realizing her arm was bleeding from her stupidity ripping the IV out and took note that she was in the medical trailer.

Once Y/N patched her arm up, she finally read the note that instructed her to go to the only actual house in the community to talk with whoever saved her…and more.

“Ah! You’re awake” The unfamiliar man rose to his feet approaching Y/N when she entered the Barrington House. “I should probably explain how you got here”

“If I had my knife I’d threaten it on yea to tell me that information. But I honestly just wanna know where the fuck it is” Y/N frowns as the man quickly drew himself back to the couch he was sitting on and picking up her belongings handing it all to her. “Okay…maybe I won’t threaten you for how nice you’re being. But I have questions”

“Okay, I’m here to answer them”

“Your name?”

“Paul Rovia, but everyone here calls me Jesus” Jesus smiles sitting on the arm rest of the couch watching Y/N hug her backpack. “Uhm. Yours?”

“Y/N. Just Y/N…uh. How did you find me?”

“My group and I were on a run to look for medicines and frankly anything that could help us. We have a garden going on but you can’t speed the growth to those things so yknow. Scavenging. But I went to this one house that was barricaded. Only the front door was so I found my way in and saw you lying unconsciously. You looked like you were in poor condition and we have a doctor here.” Jesus explained watching her tense shoulders relax. “Yeah he’s an OBGYN but yknow you have to go through—-“

“Residency so you explore your options before picking a specialty.”

“Well we are certainly benefitting by your presence if you are also a doctor”

“I dropped out of med school, but I know enough” Y/N shrugs. “And what makes you think I want to stay here…I…I’m kind of looking for someone” she frowns realizing how impossible that’s going to become as she makes her way to sit on the single loveseat diagonal from Jesus.

Jesus noticed the change in emotion as he thought of something that could lighten her mood. “How about we make a deal? You help out with the community, and you can come on runs with me. During those moments we can look for whoever it is that you’re looking for”

“It’s gonna be hard”

“How so?”

“He knows how to be untraceable. He’s a hunter”

“Your husband?”

I wish

________

“Why are you giving me this?” Y/N laughs a bit confused and not entirely surprised that her best friend gave her a survival multi-tool with the signature piece being the knife.

“Self defense from that bastard of a father you’ve got” Daryl scoffs taking a hit from the blunt they were sharing, as he kicked his feet at the end of the dock.

“I will keep this in mind when he hits me next…but I know I can’t win those fights”

“Well yknow to run away to the lake house if yea need me” He nudges her gently, handing the blunt to her as she took the offering then a hit after.

________

“Is he alright?”

“Just adjusting to the new people. He said he needed a minute alone” Carol tells Rick as the two were watching the archer sit in the middle of the field looking up at the stars. “I’ll check on him in a bit”

“Alright…I’m gonna turn in, keep me posted” the retired sheriff squeezes her shoulder on his way into the prison leaving her to continue watching her best friend sit alone.

Daryl frowns thinking about how she could be out there…scared and alone for all he knows. His anxiety started to eat at him while he unconsciously tugs at the bracelet he was wearing.

“Merle’s gone…you can’t be gone too”

“Who can’t be gone?”

Half expecting Carol, but was met with Carl and his curious self. Daryl shook his head ignoring the young Grimes as he plopped himself down beside him.

“How’d yea go unnoticed by Carol?”

“Oh. So you know she’s stalking you?”

“Wouldn’t call it stalkin’. She’s worried about me, I know that much”

“What exactly does she have to be worried about?” Carl asks, even more curious as he sits beside Daryl at a respectable distance. Eventually looking up at the stars and finding how calm it is.

“Promise yea won’t say anything” Daryl asks listening to the quiet yes from Carl before getting into it. “I wanna leave. Not forever. But just until I find someone”

“You lost someone out there?” Carl frowns looking at his friend watching him nod. “But what’s the issue? Knowing you it wouldn’t be that hard”

“The thing is kid? I’ve been looking for years. Way before the outbreak” Daryl frowns continuing to tug at the bracelet. “So it wouldn’t be smart to just. Wander aimlessly in a walker infested world.”

“…You think that this person is looking at the same stars we are? I can find comfort in that”

“Sometimes, yer smarter than yer old man.” Daryl laughs slightly, laying back down in the grass staring up at the stars.

“How’d you get up here?”

Y/N turns to Jesus as he found her on top of the trailer she’s currently living in. She smiles with a small laugh as she returns to looking at the stars.

“I’m not revealing my secrets”

“Well guess I ain’t sharing either cuz I think I know. Given I got up here” He laughs bringing himself to sit beside her staring up at the stars. “You thinking about that special someone?”

“Yeah. Hopefully he’s looking at the same set of stars as I am”

“Cheesy. But I like it” Jesus smiles laying back to look at the stars a bit better. “You know. Ever since you came here, you’ve been a big help with thriving the community. Maybe when this other half of yours comes by, he’s willing to also help”

“Maybe” Y/N smiles continuing to look at the stars, watching Jesus point out a shooting star.

“I bet I can guess yours and this guy’s wish”

I wish to see her again

I wish to see him again

________

As Daryl drives his truck into Y/N’s neighborhood, half expecting no activity at the hour he came by in. The other half expecting Y/N to be waiting for him on the curb. But once he turned into the cul-de-sac he was met with police sirens in front of her home. He decided to pretend he was just somebody using the road to turn around in but as he got slightly closer he noticed her mother sobbing and her father yelling at the cops they were talking to.

Even if they were abusive to the only person he cared about on the planet, Daryl couldn’t help but feel for them and realize.

Y/N chose one of her nuclear options.

It didn’t take him long to get to the lake house they would sneak off to to escape the world. Given he didn’t care for traffic laws. She didn’t have a car so that couldn’t give her away, the hue of little light they’d have from lanterns wasn’t noticeable, and honestly every sign he tried to come up with that would tell him she was there—-weren’t there.

“Y/N!” Daryl yells upon entering the place as he immediately went to the living room, then the outdoor porch, and even ran to the end of the dock. Not like it wasn’t obvious when someone would be there, but he went down the mental list of where the two hang out most.

Upon re-entering, Daryl finally noticed the little light coming from a small lantern in the kitchen. He quietly approaches it and the moment felt staged. The light hit a note written to the youngest Dixon as it was accompanied with one of those string friendship bracelets that he told Y/N a number of times that he would never wear it. But he ignored that for the time being and read the note.

I’m tired, D. I couldn’t take it anymore and I had to leave.

I love you and I’m sorry

Y/N

The tears came on strong, burning his eyes, and making him want to rub at his eyes until they stopped. But they never did.

She’s gone

________

Gone forever…huh

Jesus, of course, gets himself into trouble and especially with the main group that aren’t going to trust someone easily anymore. But with the promise of going to his community, came a road block of a few of his own getting into an accident.

“If this is another trick, hear for my whistle. And then shoot him” Rick tells Maggie watching her nod before entering the building first as the rest follow.

Leaving the two alone for a moment.

“I didn’t mean to get in trouble with your leader. My community just. Our leader got stuck in a predicament. Lost some people and supplies”

Maggie frowns lowering her weapon knowing internally he wasn’t going to do anything. Expect stand there with her, waiting for her group to help with part of his.

“You look tense. More than the start of the ride over”

“My best friend was in this group. She’s one of the only good fighters we’ve got…I’m just afraid that something worse happened to her after getting out of the crash. I made a promise to her. It will eat me alive if she died and I didn’t give the one thing she wanted out of years of knowing her”

“My family knows what they are doing”

Jesus turns to Maggie with a small smile and hoping even harder that nothing happened.

His people were simply hiding away for a moment, in hopes more of their own would come and get them. Thankful for the people that Jesus ran into.

“Come on, let’s go” Daryl tells one of his people as he held his hands up to him and Glenn but didn’t budge.

“I can’t leave without my friend. She got hurt in the crash” He nervously states watching the two look at each other for a moment but they knew they weren’t leaving without all Jesus’s people.

Abraham’s mind has been in a fog for a while that when he ran down the hall to take out a walker. He was met with a woman cowering slightly with his intense presence, especially when her life was almost met with an end.

“Sorry”

“It’s cool. I’m a. Used to it by now” Y/N’s body continued to shake as she was dealing with a bit of road rash and a head lac.

“Come on!”

No…

“Abraham, let’s go. Carry her out if she’s in shock” Glenn chimes on his way past following the man Y/N was currently fixated on the voice. Before Abraham could grab her, she immediately ran after the first voice she heard other than the man that almost killed her.

Once Y/N stepped out of the building, looking a bit like Carrie with the amount of blood on her. Most was hers. Other was…well, they are stuck in the crashed vehicle. Jesus instantly beamed.

“Oh thank fuck you’re okay Y/N”

Y/N. Wait a fucking minute Daryl quickly whipped his head toward the woman slowly and cautiously approaching him. She hasn’t really changed…except for a few more scars and her hair being longer. She was still his Y/N.

“I thought you were dead…after the first few years, I really thought you were—-“

“Daryl…I don’t. My adrenaline is fading…so it’s kind of really hard to…believe this is…real or another hallucination” Y/N stumbled a bit and before she completely collapsed, Daryl quickly caught her picking her up bridal style and going back to the RV to let Harlan take care of her with what he has.

Daryl’s eyes haven’t left Y/N’s person the entire ride back to the Hilltop. Of course the two reunite when something bad happens to one of them. But he knew she would pull through from this, she’s a fighter.

Once the RV reached the walls of the Hilltop, the group stepped out and followed Jesus inside as Daryl followed Harlan the entire time he picked up Y/N, got her out of the RV, and started to make his way to the infirmary trailer which he informed Glenn and Maggie about on the ride over. Part of Daryl stuck with his group but his mind was elsewhere when he entered the Barrington House. Expecting Jesus to point it out, Maggie did.

“Go to her, Daryl. We’ve got this much covered” Maggie tells him as his eyes looked over to Rick watching him nod. Not that he needed permission. But it was a new community to them. He also wanted to meet this leader…that was problematic all on his own.

Right as Daryl approached the trailer door, Harlan stepped out and quickly gave the archer a smile.

“Just the man I’m looking for. At least, by patient’s request”

“She’s awake?”

“Yeah and you were the first thing she asked about. She also made me make sure she wasn’t concussed…but she is a bit. So. Don’t pinch her if she asks “are you real?” or not. She’s taken more than just a head lac and road rash” Harlan warns mainly for them to be a bit careful with a more conscious reunion.

As the doctor stepped away from the trailer letting Daryl step in and stare at Y/N like he’s seen a ghost. She had the same stare toward him before breaking the silence.

“I really thought you died. But uh. Not until after a year in the outbreak”

“…why’d yea leave?” Daryl frowns, immediately touching that topic as he leaned against the adjacent wall from her seated position on the cot.

“I mean…we are adults. I shouldn’t have to sugarcoat anything to you”

“Did your dad hurt yea badly again? Or your mom? Is that why you left”

“Yes…and no. I was…heartbroken and dealing with more than just that. That I had to leave. I know now how selfish that can be given I could’ve just gone to you and we would’ve…I don’t know”

“We would’ve found a way out together” Daryl states avoiding the distance and sitting beside Y/N feeling her hand instantly rest on his knee as the look of relief in her face washed over her. He’s real. This isn’t you saying what you want to hear.

“My dad found out that I broke up with his best friend’s son, and the reason why I did…because I obviously didn’t love him or even liked him for the matter…” Y/N frowns keeping her eyes toward the ground to avoid his. “He…pulled my arm out of my socket when I tried to run away the first time. To avoid anything further, once I got it put back in…with an injured healing arm I got the fuck out of there. Couldn’t call you because I left my phone at home. Left everything he and my mother could find me with and just. Went West until I came back in hopes to talk to you…then the outbreak happened”

Daryl felt her hand tremble slightly as she pulls away but he carefully took said hand that was once on his leg and into his hand for her to squeeze.

“What was the reason…cuz yer old man would’ve just found another suitor”

“I was in love with my best friend” Her words hit him like a truck as he squeezed her hand carefully, feeling her other rest on top of their conjoined ones. “Of course he thought I was gay and I know his homophobic ass wouldn’t like that. But I corrected him. Because I wanted my family to know who my best friend was and how important he was to me that he stole my heart instantly…I was just too afraid to say anything until now”

“why didn’t you say anything sooner…or runaway to me?”

“When you go to the lake house, and hear your best friend in the throws with another woman.” Y/N felt the tears slowly fall off her cheeks as Daryl tried his best to ignore his threatening his waterline. “You didn’t want to tell him that you left for more than just your parents. You left because…you thought you would never be good enough for him”

“You’re good enough for me, you’re more than good enough” He scoffs. “I’ve always been in love with you, I was too coward to say anythin’”

“It’s been years…and you still do?…as much as me?”

“More even” Daryl lifted his head to look her in the eye as she knew she was crying but notice the stray tears that fell here and there from his own. “I never stopped looking for you. Only times I did was when I was runnin’ from the horrors of the old and new world. But you never left my mind. All I wanted was to be with you.”

“And here we are” Y/N sobbed pressing her forehead against his, feeling the cot shift when he brought himself closer wrapping his arm around her. She eventually brought both her arms around him moving her face to the crook of his neck as Daryl caged her in his embrace keeping mind of her injuries even if she first didn’t care about them.

“Please, don’t leave me again”

“I’m stuck to you like glue, D. I’m never leaving again”

#the amount of times I deleted and re-write this one #I deserve a reward #jk jk #I’m just happy I finally got a route I liked for this #cultofdixon #the walking dead #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction

361 notes · View notes

dragondemoness · 1 year

Text

Ultimate Cuteness Reader - Persona 5/Royal Edition - The Mansion of Grief (Part One) (The Boys)

Description: The Phantom Thieves (boys) discover that their sweet, adorable, innocent S/O has a Palace.

Went back and remade this part, because I wanted to make a couple of changes and add a little more depth to this, I guess.

You had been acting strange lately.

You seemed down, you didn’t smile as much, and the light from your beautiful eyes was completely gone.

Your partner tried to check on you, but you insisted that you were fine, and with a smile that was clearly forced.

They figured you were going through something, so they gave you their space while letting you know that they were there for you.

Then you started pushing them away and shutting out, and they could tell that there was something more going on.

After school, they made a mental note to go to your house and check on you.

But then they noticed that you left your beloved bunny plush, Mr. Bunny, in the classroom.

You always had it with you wherever you went, which only increased their worry even more.

Ren Amamiya/Joker

When he noticed the plush on the table, he was confused

He had never seen you without it before

He went to your house after school with the plush in his hands

The plush started glowing red and vibrating

Next thing he knew, he was in his Phantom Thief attire, in a dark mansion

Was this... a palace?

The Meta-Nav never detected it

It was unlike anything he had ever seen

And he noticed that the bunny plush was gone

It was your palace?

He didn't want to believe it

It was so unlike you

But he wouldn't know unless he explored, so he did, despite his anxiety

Compared to the other palaces he's infiltrated, this one was absolutely horrifying

The cognition, the designs, even the shadows

Joker was afraid to even go near the shadows

He noticed the shadows were all wearing bunny masks as well

The dark walls of the palaces were lined with paintings

Paintings of you, your bunny plush, and an elderly woman

Except for a large, empty frame

He got up close to one of the paintings, and he accidentally fell into it

He saw the events of the painting unfold before him

It was the day your grandmother gave the bunny plush to you when you were a child

So it really was your palace

But your palace didn't seem malicious at all

Just filled with grief and sorrow

He explored the rest of your memories, up until he made it to the empty frame

He touched it, and suddenly, he found himself in a large room

Joker fell through the frame and hard onto the ground. After taking a moment to collect himself, he stood up and looked around.

He found himself outside, in a large backyard with flowers everywhere.

He looked ahead of him, and his heart stopped.

He saw you, as a child. You were holding your plush in your arms, you wore small, cute clothes, and your once bright, beautiful eyes were now a glowing yellow. You stared at him with no expression.

Was this... your shadow?

"(N-Name)?" He found himself at a loss for words. "Why do you have a palace?"

"I'm looking for her."

He opened his mouth to ask who you were talking about, but he noticed you staring.

He followed your gaze, and saw you staring at the other side of the empty frame.

There was a picture of you and your grandma, dancing together in her flower garden while the bunny plush sat on a rocking chair in the background.

The flower garden looked exactly like where he was right now.

Then he figured it out. Your palace didn't spawn from a place of maliciousness or arrogance, but from a place of grief and sadness. You had been at your worst recently, missing your grandmother more than ever, developing an obsession with seeing her again.

Before he could say anything, the palace began to rumble. And out of nowhere, a hole opened up in the ground. And what appeared was an incredibly tall elderly woman, but much more twisted. She had large, clawed hands and feet, long bunny ears sitting on her head, bright red eyes and a sharp-toothed grin.

So this was your palace's cognition of your grandma. Given how fondly you viewed her, Joker was confused.

So this is why you’ve been down. Your grandma died, and you didn’t tell him.

Your grief became an obsession to see her again, and this distorted desire bred your Palace.

He felt terrible. You had lost the only family member you had left, and he had no idea.

But he took a breath in and put a hand on his knife. He was gonna have to fight your grandmother, and it wasn't gonna be easy.

Ryuji Sakamato

All he wanted to do was return Mr. Bunny to you

And he ended up getting caught up in this mess

The second he reached your house, he ended up in a palace

Was it... yours?

He tries to deny it at first

There's no way you could have a palace!

But the memory paintings proved otherwise

The paintings of you, your grandmother, your bunny

As he roamed around, he felt more and more unsettled

The palace was so dark and scary

It wasn't like you at all

Even the shadows were creepy

They weren't patrolling the palace or anything

They were just standing around in groups, with rabbit masks on their faces

Ryuji cautiously walked up to one of them and struck them with his weapon

It didn't fight back or attack him

Just stared at him and groaned

Ryuji quickly walked away from it

He roamed around anxiously, trying to find your shadow

He just wanted to know why you had a palace in the first place

You were way too nice to have strong enough feelings of malice to spawn one

But as he was thinking, he fell through an empty picture frame and ended up in a flower garden

"(Name)? Why do you have a Palace?"

Ryuji stared in shock at what looked like your shadow. You stared back at him with wide, expressionless, yellow eyes.

"I'm not sure what you mean. This is her home."

Before he could ask what you meant, you pointed to something behind him. He followed your gaze and saw the painting behind him.

It was you, as a child, and your grandmother dancing together in a flower garden.

The flower garden he was in.

Ryuji stared at the painting, with no words to say. He finally realized the truth. Your Palace didn't spawn from feelings of malice or greed. It spawned from your feelings of grief.

You had been missing your grandmother more and more, and Ryuji felt stupid for not noticing.

But he quickly looked away when he heard a rumbling from behind him. He turned, and a creepy, demented shadow suddenly sprang up from the ground. It looked like a strange hybrid of a rabbit and an elderly woman.

Wait... Was that your grandma?

So that was your cognition of her. But why? From the way you talked about her, she sounded like such a sweet person. So why would this be her cognition?

And more than that, what did she even have to do with it?

But now was no time to ask questions. Ryuji breathed in, and brought out his mace. He turned to you, looking to see what he would do. He felt a twinge of sadness in him.

He knew what he needed to do, and that it would hurt you.

Yusuke Kitagawa

He came to Shujin after school to visit you

He painted a new masterpiece for you, hoping to lift your spirits

But you weren't there

Instead, he found your bunny plush on a desk

He picked it up with a smile

"Well, well, what are you doing here by yourself? Where's (Name) run off to?"

He then left and walked to your house

Next thing he knew, he was in his Phantom Thief attire, and the rabbit had disappeared

To say he was shocked would be an understatement

Why did the rabbit bring him here? Where did the rabbit go?

Where the heck was he?

Given his costume and the cognition, Yusuke could only assume that this was a Palace

But it was different

It felt very dark and disturbing

He didn't even consider the idea that it was your Palace until he started to look around

He was distracted by the paintings on the walls

The paintings of you, an elderly woman, and your bunny

Suddenly, his blood turned to ice

This was your palace?!

Fear and anxiety took over as Yusuke took off in a run, desperately searching for your shadow

He needed to know why you had a palace

As he was running, he ran into the empty frame and fell into the flower garden

Yusuke stood up and took a look around. The garden was dark, the only light coming from the garden lights on the ground.

He jumped when he saw your shadow, staring at him with wide, expressionless eyes. You held your bunny plush in your hands, with glowing eyes of its own.

"(Name)... What is this place?"

"This is her home."

As you said that, you turned your head and pointed to something behind him. Yusuke turned around and saw the painting he had fallen through.

It was a picture of you and your grandmother dancing in her flower garden, smiling and laughing. Yusuke could feel the pure joy from this picture, and it was one of the most beautiful things he had ever seen.

But this moment was cut short when he felt the ground shake. He turned back around to see a large, demented shadow spring up from the ground.

Yusuke watched in shock as the shadow beast towered over him.

Was this the Palace's cognition of your grandmother? But why?

Yusuke froze. This was somehow even more disturbing than the Palace as a whole. And the reason it even existed was because he had no idea she was dead. Your grief affected your mental state, and he was completely blind to it.

He shook his head. Now was no time to succumb to the guilt. You needed him.

Yusuke readied his katana for battle. He needed to help you accept your grandmother's death, even if it hurt you.

Goro Akechi

He had just finished another murder commission for one of Shido's confidants

After exiting the Metaverse, your bunny plush was right there in front of him

He was startled, having no idea how it ended up there

He picked it up, eying it curiously

Then he walked to your house to return it to you and ended up right back in the Metaverse

And the rabbit had disappeared

This Palace was unlike any other Palace he had entered

The overall cognition was dark and horrifying

And there was an underlying feeling of grief behind it

For once, he felt anxious

He took a close look at the pictures on the wall

He saw you as a child, your bunny plush, and an elderly woman

Wait, was this your Palace?!

Suddenly in a panic, Akechi broke into a run and started looking for you

Soon after, he fell through a large, empty frame on the wall

Akechi landed in a flower garden, in the dark mansion's backyard. The only light were the garden lights in the ground. The sky had no moon, and no stars.

Was there even a sky?

He jumped when he heard footsteps in the grass. His heart stopped when he saw your shadow, the shadow of your child self.

"(Name)?" He forced out. You stared at him, your yellow eyes wide and unblinking.

"Why are you here?" He asked.

"I finally found her. She's alive."

"What?"

You pointed to something behind him, and he turned to see a large picture, in place of the empty frame he fell through.

It was a picture of you and your grandmother dancing in the flower garden, laughing and smiling while the plush rabbit sat on a rocking chair in the background.

Then, Akechi understood. Your grandmother had died, and the increasing grief for your grandmother turned into denial, and it became a distorted obsession to see her again, thus spawning a Palace.

He looked at you with sadness. He should have been with you more. He should have been there to help you. He should have known.

But his thoughts were cut off by the ground suddenly shaking, and out of nowhere, a shadow appeared.

It looked like a strange hybrid of a rabbit and an elderly woman.

This was your Palace's cognition of her?

Then he realized: it wasn't how you viewed your grandmother. This shadow represented your grief, and your denial.

Akechi breathed in and reluctantly took out his gun. He felt horrible for what he was about to do. He had done enough damage already.

But the grief was hurting you, and he needed you to accept the truth, even if it was painful for you.

#persona 5 #persona 5 x reader #persona 5 royal x reader #ren amamiya x reader #akira kurusu x reader #persona 5 joker x reader #ryuji sakamoto x reader #yusuke kitagawa x reader #goro akechi x reader #ultimate cuteness reader #ultimate cuteness series

310 notes · View notes

sinspark4 · 4 months

Text

New food, but angst edition. 🫡

Chapter 1 of “Devotion” has been released for the new fandom Bang Brave Bang Bravern. The plot bunnies were insistent and I was sad about the lack of drama that could have unfolded when Isami was ‘held in custody’

That’s fine, no worries. I’ll jump on it like a starving man. Oh. Also, I can’t make fics like a normal person. Have fun trying to figure this one out.

Summary:

Isami had stopped counting the seconds, the minutes, the hours of every day. Everything had blurred together in laughable delirium. The interrogator's unending repetitive line of questioning was based on fallacies. He knew that, they knew that. Yet here they were still; the sick and twisted man stood sneering at him. He could feel the anxiety and terror clawing at the back of his throat.

He wasn't a terrorist.

He wasn't sure when he'd started begging.

A large metal finger ran down the side of his cheek and Isami fought the instinctive reaction to jerk away.

"Isami?" [Is...aAKzt...m...?]

He was seeing double. Bravern, split in two. One; shiny, full-bodied, bursting with vigor and burning ferocity. The other; rusted and tired, his throat a gaping maw of decimated machinery. Pain radiated through his body, the location and intensity felt strangely different from before.

Isami was only certain of one thing.

Reality was slipping through his blood soaked fingers and the harder he fought to grasp it, the further it danced out of his reach.

#bang brave bang bravern #Bravern #ao isami #Lewis smith #ao3 writer #bang brave bang bravern fanfic #ao3 #ao3 fanfic

24 notes · View notes

beah388love · 2 months

Text

Bunny

18+ Minors DNI!!!

Full Masterlist Legend Masterlist

Pairing: Reggie Kray x Fem!Reader

Summary: Ron accidentally takes your favourite stuffie and you panic…

Warnings: Swearing,Crying,Angst,a little squint about anxiety,PTSD,sibling death,depression!!! (Please tell me if I missed any!!!)

Reggies POV-

It was 11:00 am in the morning it was a normal day except the fact that when I walked into the flat with Ron,we was met with no sign of dov-Y/n.

I saw a little note on the table that said "went to the Prince shop to get some ranchers, be back soon xx" and I smiled.

"Where is y/n?" Ron said and I handed him the note.

"She's out for a bit" I said and looked at Ron who was looking around.

"Do y'a mind if I look around?" Ron asked since he knew we would have to wait for y/n until we got to go to the carpenters Arms to sort business out.

"Knock yourself out mate" I said before walking into the kitchen to get a drink.

Ron walked upstairs and looked around bored.

Until something caught his eye, a cute small bead-stuffed bunny on the double bed.

He walked over to it and held it gently before he chuckled a bit knowing y/n slept with a teddy.

What he didn't know was how much the bunny meant to her..

He put it into his blazer pocket and went back downstairs.

"Y/n’s back let's go" I said and Ron nodded before we left and went to the car to meet with y/n.

"You boys alright?" She asked us with a smile whilst she also sucked on a jolly rancher.

"We're good just waiting for you to come down to carpenters with us" I said and she smiled again.

"Yup let's go" she said and we left before I opened and shut the car door for her gaining a thank you a from her.

———

After carpenters.

Abt. 1:30 pm

I drove y/n back but Ron went to our club with the rest.

We walked up to the flat and she went upstairs to get changed into something more comfy.

I was in the kitchen reading the newspaper until I heard a loud gasp and then y/n scream "Reggie!"

I quickly went upstairs.

"Yeah?" I breathed out.

"Where's bunny?" She panicked and began looking everywhere.

I huffed, she panicked me for a stuffed teddy?.

"Dove.." I said and she shrugged off the hand I placed on her arm off.

"Don't! Where is she!" She cried.

I hated when she cried. Because she rarely would, only if it was her period,a loved one was mean to her,a loved one got hurt or if she lost her bunny.

"Oh Dove..c’mon please don't cry..I'm sure we'll find her" I reassured her but she wouldn't listen.

"No! I left her here! Who's been here?!" She stuttered through tears.

"Oh fuck.." I said and she looked at me worried.

"What?" She asked me through tears.

"Ron's been here" I said as I held my two fingers to the bridge of my nose.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" She said pissed off.

"Dove..calm down I'm sure he just meant it as a joke" I tried to calm her down but she was furious.

She went downstairs as she wiped her tears and she left the flat before slamming the door.

She was wearing flats, leggings and a baggy jumper as she left the flat and walked down to the car and began to start it. I chased after her but failed. She had already drove away before I got to her.

"Y/n! For fucks sake!" I said to myself angrily.

———

Y/n’s POV-

"Ronald James fucking Kray!" I yelled through the empty club.

"What'd y'a do?" Teddy asked Ron and he shook his head. He didn't know what he did.

"Where is she?!" I yelled at him and he looked at me sad and confused.

"I don't know what you're talking about" Ron said honestly but i wasn't havin it.

"Don't fuckin play that game with me, give her to me now" i threatened and he was upset he hated when i was mad at him.

But I didn't care, I wanted my bunny, she was the only thing I cared about in this moment.

I needed her, she was my comfort. I had her through everything in my life.

My anxiety,depression,PTSD, my brothers death.

My parents fights,my uncles fights, when my dad went to prison or when my uncles did.

When I had no one. When all my fake friends ditched me. She was all I had.

I need her.

"Don't yell at me y/n" Ron said but i ignored him.

"Give me Bunny!" I yelled and searched his pockets.

"Y/n! Stop it!" Reggie scolded me and pulled me off of Ron.

"No! I need her!" I cried in Reggies arms and he stroked my hair comfortingly as he held me trying to calm me down.

But it didn't work.

"Ron give me the stuffed bunny from my flat" Reggie said in a very serious tone.

Ron went wide-eyes since he had realised what I had wanted this whole time.

He quickly opened his blazer pocket and handed me the bunny.

Which I instantly took and held in relief.

It instantly calmed me and my sobs began to slow down.

"Shit..I-I'm sorry y/n" Ron said apologetically.

"It's alright Ron, you didn't know" Reggie said as he held me close.

"Thank you" I breathed out through teary breaths.

Eventually after I calmed down I gave Ron a hug and I explained to him why I wanted my bunny so much.

"After my anxiety and depression and PTSD, I've had bunny the whole way through, I've had her since I was two" I explained to Ron and he felt so bad.

"I didn’t know y/n, I'm sorry" he said and gave me a hug making me smile.

"It's fine Ron, you didn't know,I'm sorry for yelling at you" I replied as I hugged him back.

#reggie kray #reggie kray x reader #reggiekray #ronnie kray #ron kray #kray twins #kray brothers #the krays #legend #legend film #Tom hardy #x reader #mafia bf #mafiaau #mafia au #mobster #gangster

11 notes · View notes

irondad-defensesquad · 2 months

Text

To be yourself is all that you can do

Also posted on AO3!

TRIGGER WARNINGS - self-harm (not explicit), past temporary character death, anxiety attacks, and grief/mourning.

DO NOT SHIP PETER AND TONY. P/ROSHIP DNI.

Someone falls to pieces, sleeping all alone Someone kills the pain, spinning in the silence She finally drifts away Someone gets excited in a chapel yard, catches a bouquet Another lays a dozen white roses on a grave Yeah, and to be yourself is all that you can do Hey, to be yourself is all that you can do - Be Yourself, Audioslave

Peter forgets where he is, until he hears a little girl’s concerned voice.

“Petey, did you get hurt?”

That’s when he realizes he hasn’t covered his arms under his sleeves, and Morgan is seeing all the ugly cuts filling his skin. Peter also goes cold when he remembers that Tony and Pepper are home, though they don’t seem to pay attention. They’re bantering in the kitchen. In fact, they were all cooking together when Peter lied that he was tired so he would go to the couch. Tony could always read him like an open book, but he was having a good time with his family, and Peter at least didn’t ruin it.

So, Peter went to the bathroom. And then he went to the couch, silent as a rock.

But now the worst outcome has come true. Peter has tainted Morgan’s innocence. How is he going to explain it to her? She’s so young to know about self-harm and how little sense it makes.

“I’ll get Daddy-!” Morgan is about to jump out of the couch to run to the kitchen and he’s going to ruin Tony’s happiness–

“No! I-I mean-!” Peter lets out, thankfully not too loudly. “It’s fine, I swear.” The cuts still burn a little, wearing the knit sweater Tony got him is quite itchy. “I have super healing, remember? They’ll be gone soon.”

If anything, they’re not healing properly.

Morgan can probably tell.

“Do you need ice? Band-aids?” She suggests. “You’ll need a lot of them though…”

“I-It’s okay, Mo. I can handle it.”

Peter gulps, glancing at the kitchen. He can hear Neil Young playing. It’s not like the AC/DC Tony would blast in the workshop… Peter might miss it, but this little life he built here with Pepper and their daughter is nice.

“Just promise me you won’t tell your parents, okay?” Peter asks (begs). He knows it’s unfair to do this to Morgan after what she has just seen. “I don’t want them to freak out or anything.”

She doesn’t look as shocked anymore but she looks very sad for him.

“Okay,” Morgan replies simply. Meaning it.

Peter doesn’t know why Morgan isn’t asking anything. She doesn’t question where the cuts come from. She doesn’t ask why Peter did this to himself. She doesn’t get mad. She doesn’t cry.

Instead…

Morgan wraps her small arms around Peter’s neck. That makes the boy’s eyes tear up, but he has to swallow them for now.

“There, there,” Morgan pats his back. That action makes him snort. She’s imitating Baymax, since they watched Big Hero 6 the other day.

“T-Thanks.”

Morgan really does love him. He’s her “super big brother”.

Then she lets go and smiles at him. Morgan is so cute. Peter would’ve squeezed her but his arms hurt and he doesn’t want to hurt her, too.

Suddenly, her eyes sparkle.

“You wait here!” Morgan says, suddenly sprinting away.

It seems like she’s running upstairs.

Peter frowns, trying to figure out what she’s up to. At the same time, he sees his cuts again, glaring at them. He feels so stupid for relapsing, but he had such an awful night of sleep and he needed to distract himself, he couldn’t have an anxiety attack when everyone else wants to have fun–

Morgan has returned with a fuzzy blanket that she probably got from Peter’s room, as well as a little stuffed bunny that she gave him.

“Here! Now you’re warm and you’re not alone!” Morgan says proudly.

Peter laughs, rather broken. He hugs his bunny. “Aww, thank you.”

“Now one last thing!” The girl runs again, but she goes to the kitchen instead.

Morgan is likely looking for something as she runs all over the kitchen to get specific things. She’s even panting at this point.

“Whoa there, speedy, what’s all the rush for?” Tony questions, teasingly.

“I need choco milk!”

“Nice try, young lady, dinner will be ready in less than five minutes,” Pepper points out. She must be crossing her arms, even if she’s not too serious, either.

“No, it’s an emergency! Petey is sad, so he needs choco milk so he doesn’t feel so sad anymore!”

Oh f…

Okay. Okay, at the very least Morgan didn’t tell them Peter is hurt.

And is it really her fault? Morgan just wants to help. And she’s doing the right thing getting the adults, too. No child should be forced to take care of a teenager who can’t handle his own brain.

Anyway, the happy environment is definitely over. Peter can sense the tension coming from Pepper and Tony. They might even be looking at each other to figure out what to do next.

Peter stays quiet.

“Hey, Morguna,” Tony resumes his sweet dad tone, “how about you and Mom get Peter a really nice book while I make the choco milk?”

“Yeah! Story for Petey!” Morgan loves the idea.

Two people leave the kitchen. “I’ll be back, Petey!” Morgan reassures from afar.

With the mother and daughter upstairs, the floor seems awfully silent. Save for the music.

Peter can also hear Tony sighing to himself.

He hates that.

The man seems to handle both the chocolate milk and dinner. Peter knows his mentor is going to confront him soon, and his heart is beating faster. And the teen knows he can’t run to the restroom again.

Peter spends so long overthinking that when the steps are coming towards him, he hides in the blanket to pretend he’s not there. Wow, he used to do this so much as a kid. Especially when he was sad and Uncle Ben would come and find him…

“... Hello, strange lump. I’m looking for my teenager who could use some chocolate milk right now,” Tony jokes. “Can you get him for me?”

Peter pretends he didn’t feel warm when Tony called him his teenager.

Gulping again, the boy comes out.

“Um, hi.”

“Hey, kid. Brought you milk.”

“Yeah, thanks.”

As Tony hands him the cup, he’s actually cupping both of Peter’s hands, too. Tony is kneeling down in front of him. Peter doesn’t dare look up.

“What happened?” Tony whispers.

“I dunno. I had a bad night.” Peter is not completely lying.

“Nightmare?”

The teen shakes his head. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“Oh, Pete, you can let me know when you can’t sleep.”

The gentle reminder, without a hint of annoyance, certainly won’t help Peter hide his tears. He looks down, staring at his hidden lower arms.

“It was stupid and… I didn’t want you to know.”

Peter doesn’t want to see Tony’s sad face. He doesn’t want to be reminded of someone who looked out for him that bore the same expression. The sadness of unconditional love, despite all of Peter’s mistakes.

“Hey,” Tony calls, “look at me.”

The teenager almost shakes his head, knowing it would be rude.

Knowing he’ll just regret avoiding Tony, too.

The man is smiling.

“I love you, Peter. Pepper and Morgan love you, too. We’re here for you through anything, including your lows,” Tony tells him.

With that, he kisses Peter’s forehead without a second thought.

Tony has always been affectionate, but now, it’s like he’s opened himself more. That likely has to do with Morgan.

Everything has changed so much…

“Now, I just want you to get warm and get ready for a story,” the man breaks him out of his trance. “Does that sound good?”

“Of course, Mr. Stark.”

Soon, Morgan and Pepper are back with quite a handful of books.

“Whoa, that’s a lot you got there,” Tony comments.

“I didn’t know what to pick! There are so many good ones! Maybe Petey can tell us which one he likes the most,” Morgan suggests.

“Okay, you kids settle down now. You leave the stories to the pros.”

Pepper rolls her eyes. “I’m obviously the pro here.”

Morgan joins Peter on the couch, snuggling against him, the two protected by the blanket. Tony and Pepper sit on the floor, all the books lying around. They show Peter some of them. Of course, the one about the spider that couldn’t web attracts him.

The spider could stick to the walls like any other spider, but she couldn’t make any of the beautiful webs. She felt lonely and alienated. Eventually she finds a group of spiders that have other “flaws” that accept her the way she is.

Tony and Pepper will make silly voices together. Morgan always laughs or gives snarky comments like her parents do. Peter doesn’t really say much, but he feels his body relaxing more and more.

They don’t read all the books, mostly because they still have to eat dinner which has gotten cold. They reheat it and eat together. Peter can feel their eyes on him but he can’t blame them. Other than that, it’s pretty calm.

Morgan is tired after doing everything to make Peter feel better, so she goes to bed rather early (even if she tries to convince them otherwise). Once Pepper and Tony tuck her in, Peter shows up. Morgan is already with her eyes closed, breathing in and out…

Peter grins, kissing her forehead.

“Thanks, Morgan. You’re my hero, too.”

“You’re welcome, Petey-pie…” the girl says sleepily.

Peter smooths her hair gently, soon turning off the lamp for her.

When he leaves, he can tell Pepper and Tony were watching them.

The two plus Peter hang around in the living room. The adults are talking more. Peter is actually in the middle of them, like he’s their kid, too.

Sometimes they ask him stuff to include him. Peter might unintentionally make funny comments every now and then. Pepper laughs out loud, mostly because Peter is just telling her an embarrassing thing Tony did years ago. The man’s look of betrayal makes it all the funnier.

Peter faintly hears Harvest Moon by Neil Young in the background.

The whole time, the spider-teen tries not to scratch his arms and likely tear them apart again. It must mean that his wounds still haven’t healed. And he feels like he can’t just leave to go to the restroom again. Peter is really bad at hiding things and Tony is more than familiar with it.

Millions of “what-ifs” race in a loop inside Peter’s head, which has him not realize the snapping fingers in front of him.

“... hello? Peter?” Tony calls him.

“Oh? Hey. Hi. Sorry. I totally spaced out right now.”

“You’ve been scratching your arm for a bit… Is the sweater bothering you?”

“No! No, it’s just a tic.”

Tony and Pepper eye each other again. Peter wishes he could hide in the blanket lump and never, ever come out again.

“I’m, uhhhh… going to get some water,” the boy panics, leaving the couch even though he doesn’t want to. But he does need a glass of water.

Neil Young is the main thing he hears in the kitchen. Peter, however, can tell the adults in the living room are whispering to themselves. He tries to distract himself with his phone; there aren’t new messages from Aunt May or Ned. They’re both out of town, the former is with her friends she hasn’t seen in five years, and Ned is spending time with his family as he should. Peter doesn’t know about MJ since she doesn’t often open up about her personal life.

Maybe some part of him wants to run away right now. Literally right now. He can do that. But Tony and Pepper are going to look for him. Morgan is going to blame herself because she can’t heal Peter’s wounds – the mental and the physical.

Peter finishes the water in one swallow, nearly choking. Thankfully, that doesn’t happen.

Thus, he returns to the living room. Pepper is standing up while Tony remains on the couch. She sees Peter and smiles.

“I’m going to bed,” she announces. “You two don’t stay up too late, alright?”

“I would never,” Tony jokes.

Peter smiles nervously.

Pepper approaches him and gently kisses his head.

“Good night, honey.”

Honey…

“Hey, don’t I get a kiss, too?” Tony whines.

Pepper rolls her eyes but she kisses her husband, too.

“Um, good night, Pepper,” Peter waves awkwardly and she waves back.

Finally, she’s going upstairs, leaving Tony and Peter on their own.

“So kid, wanna spend some ‘us’ time now?” The hero wonders.

Peter, for some reason, cannot answer right away.

He knows that if he goes to bed, he won’t be able to sleep.

But he doesn’t want Tony to know about his arms.

He has no way out.

“... you okay?” Tony softens his voice a lot more.

“Y-Yeah, yeah, I’m fine, Mr. Stark.”

“Hey now, I don’t bite.”

“I-I know.”

Tony is trying to be that jokey man from before, but his worry only grows. Peter knows that Tony is not going to bed anytime soon BECAUSE of Peter. He’ll stay there forever. And ever.

For once, the boy returns to the couch, but this time he sits on the other corner of the couch, away from Tony. He’s hugging himself as a pathetic form of comfort. And he knows that’s only going to hurt Tony further. Why is Peter like this?

Regardless, the man is stretching an arm, inviting Peter to come closer.

The latter wants to cry.

“Kid?” Tony urges. “What do you need right now?”

Peter gulps. “I-I…”

He can’t hide the sniff.

“I dunno. B-But I don’t want to go to bed,” he replies. “I-I don’t want to go home, either.” I don’t want to be alone. I don’t want to be alone again.

“It’s alright, buddy. You can stay here.”

“I-I feel like I’m getting in the way.”

“You aren’t.”

“It’s like I don’t belong here, Mr. Stark.”

These last words feel like a stab to the heart.

“I’ve been away for five years and- and when I come back, suddenly I find out you have a daughter and you’re not living upstate anymore, and our workshop is gone, and there isn’t hard rock playing in the house… a-and it’s not like this life you built here is bad , it’s just… I wasn’t here for all of it. And you look so happy, Mr. Stark. You have an actual family. And I’m just… here.”

Peter’s vision is blurring.

“... you miss the life we had, right?” Tony whispers.

The teenager nods, trying to contain his sobs.

“Like the nights I spent at the Compound… the movies we watched together… that awesome, open view… all those big rooms… Happy, Rhodey, even Vision who didn’t always show up… When we built stuff together and we had all the bots with us, and when we couldn’t sleep we would just stargaze…” the more Peter talks, the more he breaks. “But now? Everything’s changed. A-And they’re not bad changes! ‘Cause this place here is nice, I-I love Morgan, I love Pepper, but it’s not the same and I feel like I–”

Tony has slowly scooted closer, still not touching Peter.

“... I came back wrong. I… I’m still the same sixteen-year-old from before, but somehow I’m not. You still grew up without me and it doesn’t feel right.”

The man is completely silent, but Peter can tell he’s listening, and every word that comes out of the boy must be killing him inside.

“You guys look so happy together, and with me here… I dunno, I feel like I’m ruining everything.”

“Peter…”

“... I ruined Morgan specifically.”

Tony frowns. “What do you mean?”

Peter freezes and swallows. Now he has to tell the truth.

“Mr. Stark, I… I did… I did something stupid. Something really stupid. The thing is, what happened last night… is that suddenly this dread will fill my gut and it’s like I’m”– he knows it’ll be awful to say –“I’m going to turn into dust at any moment.”

Tony’s tension rises even if he doesn’t say anything.

“And I usually just distract myself, and I can’t sleep anymore because what if I never wake up again?” Peter argues. “But then it happened again in the kitchen when you guys were having fun, and I rushed to the restroom before you noticed and I…”

He sighs deeply, clutching his own arm.

When he pulls up his sleeve, the cuts still look ugly. They don’t look any more healed. The sweater is probably making it worse.

Sensing the horror coming from Tony, Peter cries harder.

“M-Morgan saw this! She saw all of this, and I was so stupid, she’s just a child, she wasn’t supposed to know. S-She didn’t ask any questions but I know she probably wondered why I did this. She just wanted to make me feel better. And she can’t, and it’s not her fault. But what if she blames herself? I even told her to keep this a secret from you. I shouldn’t have done that. I shouldn’t have done this in the first place. I’m so sorry, Mr. Stark.”

As Peter sobs, quiet enough so Morgan and Pepper won’t hear it upstairs, he can sense Tony leaning closer. What is he going to do?

“... It’s not healing,” Tony observes.

“I-I don’t know why. It should’ve healed by now.”

“Hey, I can help my way. You don’t have to force yourself to feel pain.”

“B-But I did this to myself–”

“You don’t deserve it. You’re suffering, Pete. You did it because it made sense at that moment. But even if it wasn’t the best choice… you don’t have to beat yourself up for it.”

How is Tony not angry with him?

While he looks broken, he’s also determined.

“Alright, follow me, kid.”

Tony stands up and heads to the kitchen. He tells Peter to sit on a chair as he likely grabs a first-aid kit. He takes a piece of cotton and likely applies salina.

“You let me know if it burns, okay? I’ll do it slowly.”

Peter may wince, but it’s quite familiar. He used to get hurt pretty often as a kid. Guess that hasn’t changed since.

“After this, you should change into something more comfortable. That sweater isn’t doing good for you.”

“I didn’t want to take it off because you made it.”

“I’m not going to get mad over a sweater, kid. If it’s bothering you, then you don’t have to keep wearing it.”

While saying all of this, Tony’s entire focus is on his arms.

Peter realizes something and tears up again. Some tears might fall.

“Does it hurt?” His mentor asks, concerned he might be making things worse.

“N-No, no, it’s just… I-I don’t remember the last time… we had this.”

I don’t remember the last time you took care of me like this.

Definitely five years ago. Those late nights where Peter came from a bad patrol and Tony had to treat him, along with the doctors he trusted to help Peter. But most of those nights, it was just mentor and mentee, both trying not to mess up but still messing up, and yet learning better.

Peter feels so childish for this. It’s like he hasn’t had parental affection in forever.

Tony chuckles sadly. “Yeah, me neither.”

He looks mournful.

Peter tries to be quiet.

“... I missed this, too.”

The teen looks at Tony, finally.

“I mean, obviously I don’t like that you’re hurt, it’s mostly… I do this all the time with Morgan. I would never trade her or this life here for anything. But in the back of my head… I miss our workshop too, buddy. I miss our sleepovers. Everything seemed so simple back then, right? And all these years, I always had you in my mind. When we bought this cabin… I made sure to have an extra room. Not a mere guest room, but a place for you.”

Tony has stopped treating Peter’s cuts for now, as they’re sharing a meaningful gaze.

“My family… Pepper, Morgan, Rhodey, and Happy were all here. But you weren’t. It never felt complete to me. To any of us, honestly. I didn’t want you to be forgotten. That’s why I told Morgan all about you. We still celebrated your past birthdays. I hoped you’d be here again so we could be together again.”

The hero’s eyes are filled with water.

“I’m glad you’re here with us, Pete. But I understand how you feel. You haven’t had the time to mourn what you lost. You just suddenly returned and all that life you knew was gone.”

Peter tenses. “I-I hope I’m not being ungrateful or anything–”

“No, you’re not. You’re right to feel sad.”

Tony stares at him for a while, until he resumes his job. Peter just watches him in the meantime, looking more exhausted. The boy replays all the things he said…

Somewhere in the back of his head, Peter always had the impression Tony didn’t miss him and would’ve probably been okay without him. And he only welcomed Peter again because Tony didn’t want to ignore him. Or he did it out of pity.

Now, Peter feels stupid for even feeling this way.

After drying his arms with the cotton, Tony seems to apply some ointment onto the injuries, slowly massaging Peter’s arms. Not a word is shared between them.

When the man is over, he sighs in relief.

“You should let them breathe now,” Tony tells him. “If they don’t get better in the morning, we’ll figure something out.”

Peter looks at the cuts, which are still red. At the very least, they’re not burning and itching like before.

“Thanks…” he mumbles.

“You want me to get you another sweater?”

“N-No, no… I'm not cold.”

Peter takes off the one he’s currently wearing, revealing an old t-shirt beneath. The kind that has science puns.

Tony takes the knit sweater for him, folding it neatly. Following that, he puts away the first-aid kit. Peter waits in the chair. Later, they return to the couch. This time, Peter is glued to Tony. The music has been lowered but it’s still there.

The teen, however, wants to cry again.

He knows he can’t change the past and that he has to accept it at one point. But it didn’t have to be this painful. There wasn’t any point. And while he may be with Tony now, Peter will never know if something will separate them again. He doesn’t want to deal with that again.

He can’t stop thinking about it.

Tony, of course, notices. With his arm wrapped around Peter, he rubs the latter’s up and down.

“It’s okay, buddy. You can let it out.”

That way, he cries what is still repressed inside him. Tony allows him, making sure Peter doesn’t cry alone.

Eventually, Peter is lying his head on Tony’s lap, the latter smoothing the former’s hair. Peter has relaxed significantly, though knowing that anxiety is going to bite him back later. In fact, he’s already wondering what time it is. He assumes it must be late.

Tony senses it. “It’s alright, kid. No rush.”

“You should go to bed…”

“I’m not sleepy. Are you?”

“Not really. There’s too much in my head.”

“Same here.”

Peter doesn’t want to be selfish and take Tony down with him, but he figures that’s not true. Tony Stark can do whatever he wants.

“You want to stay like this?” The man asks. “Or maybe we could watch something. Your choice.”

“Hmm… maybe.”

Tony snorts as Peter melts in the touch.

“You really needed this, huh?”

“Yeah…”

Peter faintly hears a remote and the TV speaking at a lower volume. He supposes Tony turned off the music for good. Some goofy cartoon might be airing judging by the noises. Tony switches channels for a bit. Meanwhile, he keeps running his fingers through Peter’s curls, not losing any concentration.

If he’s not mistaken, Tony might have put Finding Nemo. Which they already watched years ago. And it’s right on the scene where Marlin finds the only remaining egg from the barracuda attack.

The soundtrack for this movie is nice.

As well as Marlin’s reassurances and Tony’s presence.

Those two aren’t too different from each other, honestly.

Peter doesn’t actually see the movie now, but he hears the whole plot. He remembers it well.

His eyes are closed.

It’s only the movie, Peter and Tony.

It’s just them again.

Even if everything else has changed… that at least hasn’t.

Peter is home.

He finally feels home.

When he wakes up again, he realizes Tony has lied them both down on the couch. And the man is snoring.

Honestly, as loud as it is, Peter doesn’t mind it.

He just falls asleep once more.

Eventually, Morgan joins them, lying on top of Peter.

Pepper might take pictures.

And Tony complains he’s being crushed.

Peter’s cuts have gotten better. They haven’t quite disappeared, but they’re not red anymore.

As he eats breakfast with Tony, Pepper, and Morgan… Peter realizes he’ll be okay. And sometimes he won’t be okay. But he’ll get through.

#lotus speaks #irondad #ironfam #fics #my fics #self-harm tw #self harm tw #sh tw #death mention tw #grief tw #anxiety attack tw #vent fic #suicide mention tw #(in the song lyrics)

17 notes · View notes

onlyforpjm · 1 year

Text

Agent Emerald

Episode 1; Korea's Boyfriend

❧words: 4,884

❧ warnings:gun violence, violence, blood, minor deaths, one sided love

❧pairing: agent!jimin x agent!y/n ft jungkook

❧genre: strangers to lovers

❧au: national intelligence service/agents/bodyguards

summary: Protecting Jungkook as you work for the secret service was a walk in the park, until things change for the worse and a new recruit is assigned as your partner, Agent Dorem.

Jeon Jungkook, someone you were all too familiar with.

The name that echoes throughout the room, turns heads from those who are interested in what he’s wearing lately, and gossiping about his dangerously good looks. The country knows Jeon Jungkook as the president’s son and his only child.

Every woman wants him and every man wants to be him, you’re no stranger to Korea’s boyfriend, who is currently standing in front of you in his 2.4 million penthouse with one shirt in each hand. One black, one white, pouting like a lost puppy.

“I have no fucking clue what to wear.”

You scoff at his words as you cross your arms looking at him standing in his grand master bedroom connected to his closet. “Really Jeon? It’s the same shirt but different colors, shades at that. Just pick one before you’re late to class.”

He rolls his big brown doe eyes and sulks back into his walk-in closet like a kid who recently dropped his favorite candy on the floor.

“You would think my own best friend would know the differences between my favorite shirts. One shirt can change a whole outfit. Y/N” He starts to rummage through the rest of his wardrobe.

“Jeon, I am working, and you know better to address me as Agent Emerald, not my legal name.”

Jungkook lets out a loud groan and darts his eyes at you. “Y/N. I’ve known you since you had a disgusting teenage crush on Justin Bieber, you’re always going to be Y/N to me, not Agent Emerald” Quotations are thrown in the air using his hands and his broad nose scrunches up cringing saying your code name.

A hand rest on your nose pinching the bridge as you try your best to keep things professional following protocol, but your oldest friend keeps testing your patience.

Jungkook notices the frustration on your face and his softens.

“Okay, I’m sorry. I know you’re working and my dad made strict rules even though he knows how close we are, but c’mon Y/N. I know this is torture for you too.” His eyebrows wiggle when he speaks his mind, a bunny smile appearing as he walks towards you. “And what’s the big deal we’re the only people in my house right now, loosen up a little.”

A comforting sigh leaves your mouth and you let your shoulders relax. “I know Jungkook. I just have a lot of pressure on me. It has only been a few months since I’ve been assigned to you, and you’re my first job. I’m still a rookie and I don’t want to jeopardize anything.” You look at him with sad eyes.

Truthfully when you first decided at the age of 9 to become an agent and be a part of the national intelligence service or NIS, you were aware that your first job would be small and be an introduction to your work and that a big mission wouldn't be assigned until you at least have 5 years worth of experience. But the shock that traveled through your body as your boss informed you that the president himself requested you as Jungkook’s personal agent was unimaginable.

Of course, it was because you had known Jungkook since you both were pre-teens, being friends for a decade his parents gained an abundance amount of trust in you, but the fact you received one of the most important jobs in the country one year into you being on the workforce gave you unimaginable anxiety.

“I would hardly call it a few months. It has been 11 months since you’ve been assigned to me and 2 years since you’ve been an agent Miss Emerald.” A muscular arm wraps around you and his head rests on your shoulder.

You comply and lay your head softly onto his. Inhaling his shampoo evidence that he’d showered earlier. “I think you’re pretty amazing Y/N, relax a little. Nothing has even happened over these 11 months. If anything you’re getting paid to spend more time with me.” He spins carefully and then strikes a pose. You let out a small chuckle at your childhood friend’s actions.

“Okay okay, you’re right and I hate it when you’re right.” A smile creeps on both of you.

“Exactly, Jeon Jungkook is always right!” Rolling your eyes then quickly gaze over his well-organized closet.

“Oh shut the fuck up and get dressed. Put on that flannel, black Balenciaga shirt, baggy jeans, and your favorite black boots, and let’s go! You’re already late.” Simultaneously you look at your watch. Five minutes before Jungkook's class starts. Then you turn your back and start heading to the front door leaving Jungkook behind. He stands there in disbelief with his tattooed hand covering his mouth dramatically.

“Y/N! You’re a fucking fashion genius!”

An obnoxious yawn appears on your side.

Jungkook has his eyes glued to his phone scrolling through yet another fashion website to add more to his already tight-packed closet. His free hand reaches to fix his hair, a cute habit you adored about Jungkook.

His eyebrows furrow as he speaks to let you know what's on his mind. “Sometimes I just want to drop out and live my life as a freeloader.” You smile softly at your best friend’s words. “College is cool and all but the boring days are dreadful and instead of you following me around the campus, you could be following me around Bora Bora or something.”

While telling you his thoughts he raises his phone to your view and shows you a pair of shoes on the website from earlier. You analyze his pick carefully scrunching your nose and shaking your head.

Jungkook nods in response to your answer. “Jeon, You could choose to live in hell and I still would follow you around. Wherever you go I go.” Your face remains expressionless. Jungkook grins cheerfully then raises both of his arms to wrap around your neck giving you a genuine hug.

You both stop walking and you wrap one arm around his waist to return his hug.

Jungkook pulls away with fake sniffles wiping his crocodile tears.

“Y/N you’re so sweet.” He continues his act but gets increasingly louder causing other students on campus to turn their heads at the two of you.

“Am I interrupting something here?”

A towering man approaches the both of you with a warming smile holding two plastic bags in both hands.

Jungkook returns a smile and waves to his first friend he’d made attending college “Taehyung! You just missed one of Y/N’s rare moments of her being sweet to me!”

Taehyung lets out a dramatic gasp and hands you one of the plastic bags. “No way. Y/N being nice? That’s unheard of.” You scoff and roll your eyes at the two boys on each side of you. You look into the bag Taehyung handed and see bakery goods occupying the space.

“Alright alright. I’m not mean guys. I only act stern when I’m working and I basically work 24/7.”

You take a chocolate croissant out and take a big bite. The flavor immediately disperses through your tastebuds and you groan at how good it tastes. You wish that you didn’t skip breakfast this morning.

“On-shift Y/N and Off shift, Y/N are two different people.” Taehyung follows your actions and grabs a slice of pound cake. Jungkook’s shoulders slump hearing his friend's words and glares at you lightly. “Either way she’s still mean to me” Now crossing his arms mimicking an upset child. You chuckle.

A small vibration comes from the left pocket of your sweatpants and you reach for your phone lifting it to your view and tilting your head with a confused face as you see who is calling your phone. Jungkook who took some of Taehyung's pound cake notices your movements “Who is it?” You look over at him and silently debate whether you should tell him. A small sigh comes out of your mouth.

“It’s your father.”

Jungkook’s eyes widen. Stress rushes across his face. “My dad? Why is he calling you?”

You begin to walk away to pick up your phone which seems to be ringing for an eternity gesturing an apology for not responding to Jungkook's questions.

President Jeon has not once ever called you personally in your 12 years of knowing the Jeon family. President Jeon has always been busy ever since you met him. Before his presidency, he was the CEO of his company. Retiring and passing it on to his most trusted worker, which is the sole reason why Jungkook is attending college studying his bachelor's degree in Business Administration to prepare himself as the next heir to the company after the current CEO, who is awaiting Jungkook to be ready so she can retire.

You were yet to be introduced to him until the age of 16, seven years after befriending Jungkook finally meeting him at a family Christmas party which Jungkook’s dad missed years prior. President Jeon was an extremely professional man to the outside world and you, but the more time you spent with the Jeon family you’d notice how even more cold-hearted he is when it would come to his wife and son.

You quickly place your phone onto your ear curiosity spreading through your thoughts on why the President is calling you. “Hello, President Jeon. May I ask-“ Before you could even finish the rest of your sentence the President speaks in a loud but serious tone over the phone nearly piercing your ears. “Agent Emerald. Get my son out of there immediately. He is not safe.” Your eyebrows furrow deeply. “Take Jungkook home now! Keep him safe until you get confirmation from Agent H and only Agent H.”

You spent no time asking questions and your feet rapidly move running towards your best friend with the phone still against your ear. “Yes sir, Jeon is on his way home now.” You hear a sigh from the other line with a lot of commotion in the background. “Agent protect my son, please. Everything will be explained later.” The call ends after and you grab Jungkook’s arm leading him to your car.

Jungkook doesn’t protest waving his friend goodbye and Taehyung goes to class returning a wave with a smile not questioning what had happened as he knows the protocols. “Y/N? What’s going on. Is my dad okay?” Worry fills his brown eyes as they stare at the back of your head aimlessly following and going wherever you go. As you enter your car you swiftly turn your head scanning for any dangers. “I haven’t gotten any information. All I know is that something major happened and that I need to take you home now.” 'You drive off the engine roaring as you press the accelerator.

Jungkook reaches for his phone to check the news.

“What the fuck.”

His jaw visibly drops and freezes with his phone almost slipping through his hands making contact with the car floor.

“What? What happened?” Your eyes focus on the road speeding trying to get to Jungkook’s penthouse.

“The Vice President has been shot. About 20 minutes ago.”

Jungkook places his phone down to hold himself in his arms, tears threatening to spill. “He…He has a family Y/N. What the fuck is happening.” Hands grip tightly on your car wheel knuckles turning ghostly white. You continuously scan the rearview mirror for anyone attempting to harm Jungkook.

Your eyes squint slightly eyeing a suspicious black car that had been following yours closely. “Fuck. Hold on Jungkook.” Jungkook responds quickly holding onto the car bracing himself from your actions. The car roars as you press your pedal to the car floor as you make a sharp right lifting the car onto its two wheels as it tilts and you reach another street trying to avoid the following car. At the same time, you look into your rear view again to see the same car mirroring your movements now increasing its speed towards you.

Jungkook follows your eyes and notices the same car. “Shit shit shit! Are they following us?” Panic overcomes him and his hold becomes more secure. “Yes. Whoever they are, it must be related to the shooting of the Vice President.” You pick up your earpiece and apply it to your ear. The earpiece automatically connects and you speak with volume.

“This is Agent Emerald. I have Golden Jeon with me. A Black BMW 430i is following us. Requesting for backup immediately!”

Jungkook flinches at your raised voice. A female voice appears through your earpiece. “Agent Emerald we already have your location. Backup is on its way.”

Before you could realize it, the black sports car speeds up and appears on your driver’s side. A masked man dressed in black head to toe points a gun toward Jungkook with half of his body outside the car window.

Jungkook ducks immediately and covers his ears out of fear as the unknown man opens fire but the bullets end up ricocheting against your bulletproof windows. Frustrated with the men targeting Jungkook. You turn your wheel harshly towards the small car colliding with the man shooting towards the two of you causing him to get hit and drop his weapon. The masked man goes back in his car showing pain from your action as the driver tries to keep the car stable from your actions. You look back once more to find familiar cars from the national intelligence service and then speed off in your car heading straight not minding the multiple red lights you ran.

Jungkook looks up uncovering his ears. Tears were ridden all over his face. “Wait where are we going? You missed the way to my house.” He lowers his head again holding his head in disbelief. “I just want to go home Y/N. Please take me home.” You try to not react to your friend but as your heart sinks you can’t help but express pity. A hand comes off the wheel as you place your hand on Jungkook’s head. Caressing his locks to comfort him. He relaxes slightly but keeps his position still admitting fear. You don’t turn to look at his eyes focusing on the road as you speak to him softly. “We’re taking a different way. Your home is the safest place to be right now. I promise I’m taking you home and I promise I will keep you safe Jungkook. Trust me.” Jungkook takes your soft hand from the top of his head placing it in between his hands squeezing tightly.

“Ok. I trust you.” He whispered quietly.

You look behind your car once more to see the car long gone and that you’d lost them. Sighing quietly in relief as you drive to Jungkook’s Penthouse. You’ve been Jungkook’s agent for almost a year now and two years since you became an agent. Never had something happened like this to the President, let alone Jungkook. You know this was the sole purpose of your job but thoughts helplessly ran through your mind.

Why is this happening? Why were they trying to assassinate Jungkook? Who were those men?

The rest of the car ride was silent as you didn’t want to spark up a conversation knowing Jungkook was in shock and still in fear of the events happening prior. You drive to Jungkook’s neighborhood approaching the gate slowly littered with police and agents like you. Which had seemed to triple from the news earlier today. You roll down your window showing your badge and Jungkook to gain access and enter the neighborhood.

You park your car in your designated parking spot, quickly exiting your car to go over to Jungkook’s aid. The passenger door opens and Jungkook comes off with heavy footsteps as his legs go weak almost collapsing. You react and catch him before he could make contact with the parking lot floor.

"Jungkook hold onto me."

His muscular arm wraps around your shoulders applying his weight and propping himself onto you. The weight is heavy but thanks to your hard work at the gym you effortlessly support him.

Arriving at his penthouse.

You open the door with a keypad greeted by Bam Jungkook’s large brown Doberman. Jungkook softens and kneels to embrace his guard dog. “Bam I’m so happy to see you, buddy.”

Tears fall again. You walk over to the sobbing boy and rest your hand on his head. “I’m so sorry this is happening to you Jungkook.” Jungkook stands up straight and turns towards you.

This time you wrap your arms around his neck giving him a comforting hug. Jungkook returns your hug and continues to let his tears flow onto your shirt.

“I was so fucking scared Y/N. I didn’t know what to do. When I saw the gunpoint towards me I…I…”

His sentence stops with more sobs and he breathes rapidly trying to control his breathing. You know the start of this action too well. Rubbing his broad back you try to calm him down. “Breathe slowly Jungkook. You’re having a panic attack. Inhale and Exhale slowly.”

Jungkook listens to you and follows your words carefully. Heavy breaths come in and out of his body and slowly Jungkook starts to calm down. You guide him to his couch for him to sit and your phone rings once more.

Reminding you of the earlier events as if it was deja vu. You reach for your phone and look at displaying the contact name Kim Seokjin remembering the President’s words of only getting confirmation from Jin.

Quickly you answer the phone and place it to your ear. “Hello Agent H.”

Agent H is the head of the National Intelligence Service and your boss, being the youngest in NIS history to acquire the head chair at the age of 26 after serving the president as his main agent for 5 years. Seokjin was like the older brother you never had before. He'd had taken you in after you fled you home and raised you to the person you are to day. Jin had grew up protecting the president and naturally became close with Jungkook seeing Jungkook as his own brother, naturally he'd introduce the two to you. His firm voice reaches your ears. “Agent Emerald put your call on speaker, I want Golden Jeon to hear this too.”

As you put the call on speaker you gesture to Jungkook to listen to Jin. Jungkook looks down at your phone and sees Jin’s name on the call. Immediately bombarding him with questions.

“Hyung! What’s going on? Are my parents okay?”

A quiet sigh comes from your phone. “Golden Jeon your father is safe at our headquarters and we are currently sorting things out after the assassination of Vice President Choi.”

Both you and Jungkook freeze. A tense atmosphere clouds Jungkook’s living room. You look over to your right to see your best friend’s red eyes from all the crying threatening to spill more tears and his shaking hands.

“Assassination? Did the Vice President not make it?” You ask carefully not being able to process the news from your boss.

You can imagine vividly Jin rubbing his temples in the stress of not being able to protect the vice president. “Unfortunately no. Vice President Choi died in action 15 minutes after he was shot.”

A heavy feeling overcomes you as Jin continues.

“There is a secret organization targeting the president and anyone in his family. Including Golden Jeon.”

Anger has now filled you. Who are these people? How dare they try to harm the president and your best friend.

Jungkook remains quiet, eyes still wide. “I need you Agent Emerald to prepare to head to HQ and bring Golden Jeon. We will have a meeting and explain everything in great detail. Until then do not and I repeat do not trust anyone you do not know personally. I don’t know who or how, but we have a rat. Be careful.” The call ends finally as it felt like a lifetime.

Jungkook sits in silence to process all his thoughts.

Your eyes graze over Jungkook’s figure. Feeling pity for him you wrap your arms around his body. Rubbing his shoulder softly to let him know you’re there. “Jungkook, I promise you nothing will ever happen to you. Okay?”

Jungkook leans closer to you finding your warmth and scent comforting. “I know, just promise me that you won’t leave me Y/N” He looks into your eyes with sadness. You soften yours and hug him even tighter. “I would never dare to do that to you. I’m always going to be here for you no matter how far we are from each other.” Jungkook lets more tears flow and you both sit holding each other cherishing the small moment of peace you both won’t have in a long time.

Arriving at HQ was a nostalgic feeling. Since being assigned to Jungkook, you have hardly ever visited. As the two of you moved through the building, he was near your side. His eyes were compelled to briskly scan his surroundings like those of a lost child, but every so often, he would stop his wandering eyes and remember why he was there.

“Y/N!” You turn your head to the familiar voice calling you from behind to see an old friend. Immediately smiling, you see him walking towards you.

“Yoongi! I haven’t seen you in so long!” You stop your pace for Yoongi to catch up, and Yoongi offers you a firm squeeze to make up for the many months you've been away.

Yoongi is a junior agent working in the same department as you. You two quickly bonded over your many similarities while on the same missions. Other agents liked to joke about how you two were once one person and one day split into two.

Jungkook stands patiently waiting for your small reunion, giving Yoongi a welcoming smile.

Yoongi realizes this which causes a halt in his actions and bows towards Jungkook. “Ah, I’m so sorry. My name is Min Yoongi or Agent Suga. You must be Jean Jungkook.” Yoongi straightens his back and offers a hand to the boy in front of him.

Jungkook takes his hand and shakes it. “No need to bow. I’m not the president so no need for um formalities.” You eye the two, slightly chuckling from your good friends having an awkward encounter. Jungkook glares at you feeling embarrassed and Yoongi giggles at the younger one’s actions. “It’s my job to, don't worry about it and I’m sorry for the current events. I wish we could’ve met with different circumstances.”

As Yoongi finishes his sentence your best friend’s face drops. Quickly noticing Jungkook’s mood change, you nudge Yoongi, who clutches his ribs as he gets the wind knocked out of him. A cough comes from you to change the subject. “How about heading to the meeting. Seokjin doesn’t like people showing up late” Jungkook nods lightly and you spin on your heels to pick back up the path you were following, Jungkook repeats your movements and trails behind you. Yoongi pauses in confusion about why his coworker elbowed him. “Hey! Wait for me!” Seeing the figures of you and Jungkook grow farther and farther he speed walks.

Yoongi catches up to you and comes close to whisper. “Did I say something wrong?” he speaks softly, carefully looking back to Jungkook seeing him keeping his head low while playing with his fingers. You gaze over Jungkook for a moment and your face softens at Jungkook’s obvious nervousness. You turn back to focus on Yoongi. Noticing his eyes showing pity to the younger one. “He’s still shaken up over what happened earlier. It’s better not to remind him about it.” Yoongi nods his head and opens his mouth slightly letting out a quiet oh, showing that he’d now understood Jungkook’s actions.

The three of you slowly come to a stop as you reach the room that held the meeting. You hear a loud sigh from behind you. Before you could turn and console your friend, Yoongi had beaten you and was already patting Jungkook’s back to console him. “It’s okay to be nervous. We’re just having a meeting to discuss things. You don’t have to worry about anything. Y/N and I will protect you.” Yoongi gives Jungkook a reassuring smile as the younger one relaxes a bit. Your heart softens at the sight.

While opening the door you see many familiar faces. Including President Jeon. You and Yoongi quickly bow towards him and Jungkook immediately runs over to his parents. “Son! Thank the lord you’re okay!” Jungkook falls into his mother’s arms. His mother starts sobbing clutching her son never letting him go. “My only son! I don’t know what I would’ve done if you were to get hurt!” Jungkook's mom pulls back to examine her son to see if he'd been injured in any way. Jungkook finally smiles genuinely after what felt like a lifetime. "I'm okay, I'm okay. I was so scared Mom." He let his tears flow once more, feeling relieved to be with his family again. The President sits back and watches the two before a serious man with broad shoulders enters the room.

"So sorry to interrupt your reunion, but we must start the meeting." Everyone listens to Jin's words and sits down around the large table in the center of the room.

Jungkook sits by his mom who now had his hand in hers. You sit in between Jin and Yoongi waiting for Jin to speak once more. "As we're all aware. An assassination occurred earlier this morning regarding the Vice President." You listen attentively, carefully processing your boss' words and waiting for him to continue.

Jin inhales deeply before resuming. "The investigation department has researched as much as they could and found out that they weren't aiming for the vice president. We believe that the proprietor was targeting you, President Jeon."

The President's teeth visibly grit and Jungkook shifts uncomfortably in his seat hearing that his dad was originally the one to be killed.

"Not only you but your family, but specifically Jeon Jungkook."

President Jeon slams his fist on the table. Jungkook stares at you hopelessly while anger overcomes your body.

"My Son?!" Jin sighs at the President's response. "Yes sir, we don't know the motive of this, but we know who is behind it." The President's nose flares out of rage. He sits back down as his wife tries to calm him.

Jin reaches for a folder containing multiple papers and opens it carefully to grab the first page inside and faces it towards the meeting revealing a vivid picture of a built man leaving the crime scene from earlier today. As you lay your eyes on the picture of the man behind the assassination your blood runs cold. Your brain processing his features you know all too well. The features you have yourself. You look away out of disbelief to meet the wide eyes of Jungkook. Jin clears his throat and continues.

"This is Choo Sunghoon. He is well known as a mafia leader feared by many, one of the most violent criminal organizations in operation. Leading the Choo Mafia recognized as the most powerful Mafia consists of about 570 made members. We believe he is the one conspiring against the President." You look at Jin with furrowed eyebrows and see his stern expression unfazed. It can't be. Why him out of all people. Choo Sunghoon. Your own father.

Growing up your dad never hid his antics from you. Your earliest memory is of him brutally beating one of his members to death. He had no shame showing you the crimes he'd done, he raised you to be a killer telling you it was to protect your sister Sejeong. He had high expectations for you to be his right-hand man and to be his main assassin. All until the incident with your sister.

You feel a hand grasp yours bringing your attention to the present. You look at the owner of the hand to see Yoongi giving you reassurance.

The only people who knew your secret in the room were Jungkook, Jin, and Yoongi. It was labeled confidential by Jin. You looked over to the head agent to see him with sadness in his eyes. He opens his mouth to say something to you but the President cuts him off.

"That damn monster."

President Jeon's fist clenched tightly as he thought of the mafia leader. Jin shifts his attention toward the president. "We understand that Sunghoon is extremely dangerous. Which is why we have assigned another agent to Golden Jeon."

You look over to Jungkook to see him stiffen from the news.

A knock echoes through the room. Jin smiles as he expected this person. The door opens and reveals a man with dark black hair, so dark it almost comes off as blue, his chubby face doesn't match the rest of him as his body is strong lean, and muscular. He walks in with a smile that reaches his eyes making them half crescent moons and his pearly whites show a tooth that's slightly protruding.

He walks to an open seat and bows slightly to everyone but deeply bows to the President and his family before sitting down

"Everyone, please welcome Agent Dorem also known as Park Jimin."

#bts ff #jimin ff #bts au #park jimin ff #pjm ff #jimin agent ff #y/n agent #jimin x reader #jimin x you #jimin x y/n

39 notes · View notes