#therapy or even just discuss it with someone close to you | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

temis-de-leon · 23 days

Text

MC with a selfish best friend

MC mourning the loss of a long toxic friendship with the help of the brothers.

Characters: demon brothers and fem!MC (written as platonic, but could be read as romantic)

Masterlist

CW: continued discussion about weight gain and weight loss, eating as a coping mechanism, obssesive and manipulative behaviour, emotional blackmail, a glimpse of animal neglect, a tiny nod at suicide, MC trying to hide her feelings, anxiety, TLC from the brothers

A/N: kind of self insert because I'm writing my own experience, so this isn't the most relatable MC. Still, I hope you enjoy it! Remember I'm not a native english speaker, so there might be some grammar mistakes.

Back then, not that long ago, MC was completely sure she wouldn’t go any further in life. She was stuck in college, in her family and her friend group. There was a dynamic she could work through and, although it could be better, she wasn’t one to complain.

It was a flooded basement with filthy water, but at least it lacked rats.

She just needed some time to start working on herself. Go to therapy, lose some weight maybe? Start cooking again and stop wasting money on fast food. She did use to enjoy spending time in the kitchen and experimenting, after all, but the only things she cooked during her last months in the human realm were mugcakes and pasta. Not necessarily nutritious, but easy to make.

Thank god she had her best friend.

Her companion in the basement, the one with the flashlight.

MC wished she let her hold her hand too.

“She’s overthinking again. Not good”

“Look who’s talking”

“Hey! It was just a joke!”

“Should we talk to her?”

“Maybe when she comes back, else we’ll give her a heart attack”

“Yeah, Lucifer would kill us”

“Oh, so now we’re doing this for Lucifer?”

“Don’t be selfish, Mammon”

“Who ya calling selfish?”

“Ugh”

MC listened carefully, softly smiling at Beel and Levi’s voices drowning Mammon’s in an almost silent screaming match.

She couldn’t see them from her position, her upper body completely sprawled over the armrest and her line of sight lost in the ashes of the chimney. The fire cracked, threatening to die in front of her, but it was difficult to get up when her body weighted so much. She was tired and hungry and nauseous and even the idea of sitting straight sent bile to her mouth.

Then someone walked into the common room, shushing harshly and getting the other brothers to cease their fighting. Whoever it was, probably Lucifer or Satan, must have thought she was asleep.

So MC closed her eyes, hiding her face in the crook of her arm and basking in the comfortable silence. She could hear them still; the shuffle of cards, a plastic wrapper, buttons and joysticks.

The newcomer got close to her, covering her body with a blanket and sitting at her feet before opening a book. There was enough space in the couch for at least two more people, but MC still curled up, trying to make more room for him. She stopped in her tracks when he grabbed her ankle in a gentle grip, a gesture that brought some warmth where her pants didn’t reach.

Would someone add another log for the fire? Everyone seemed too comfortable to move.

At least the blanket was thick. Pure hellish wool or something, because every animal in the Devildom was just a bigger scarier version of those in the human realm. It was also, however, softer than any type of textile she could’ve ever find back home, so the creature could spit fire for all she cared.

Suddenly, the brother caressing her ankle tightened his grip for a short moment, demanding her attention. When MC opened her eyes, she found Satan smiling at her with no one else in the room. She must’ve fallen asleep after all.

“Dinner is ready”

He let her stretch, unconsciously comparing her to a cat when she arched her back and cracked every possible bone in her body. Satan wondered if that ever hurt, but MC seemed to enjoy it very much whenever she had the occasion to do so, like when they came home from classes after a long day or when they bought groceries for the whole week and Beel.

“Did you not sleep well last night?”

“Not for a while, no”

“Is that so? Something troubling you, MC? Anything I can help with?”

“I don’t know”

She sounded sincere, but Satan didn’t buy it. Only a month had passed since MC came back to the Devildom, looking a bit more tired than when she left at the end of the first year of the program, and she’d acted ecstatic when she learnt she would be living with them again.

He was sure the problem relied in her human phone, something she didn’t have last year and Diavolo had kindly allowed her to keep.

All of his brothers, even the eldest, were greatly impressed when MC showed them how she unlocked the device with her fingerprints, as well as the human versions of Devilgram, Deviltube and Akuzon. That was a fun day, but time passed and soon the phone became an inconvenience. Someone at the other side of the line was taking their beloved human’s time, leaving her exhausted in the aftermath of their conversations and, if Satan vision’s was correct, teary eyed.

That would not continue. Not on his watch.

“We’ll look into it in another moment. Right now, let’s go with the others. Aren’t you hungry?”

“God, yes!”

They both chuckled and he forced his thoughts away. They could wait for the time being.

Beel didn’t judge her, but she didn’t feel as happy as she thought she would whenever they sneaked in the kitchen at the late hours of the night.

Opening the fridge door with slow movements, trying not to make noise while taking plates or bowls and eating in silence between giggles and short whispers brought a sort of familiarity. And Beel never judged MC. Why would he? He ate even more than her. He’d keep going long after she was finished, full enough to want to puke everything, and MC would feel a wicked satisfaction knowing that no matter how much she ate, there was someone that would eat much more.

Those nights she’d go to bed feeling sick and greasy, too regretful and high on sugar to be tired. Then, by morning, she’d force herself to eat breakfast and go on with her day just to get whatever sense of normality she could reach.

Although, lately, things had been slightly different.

They still got together at night and filled their mouths to the brim, but Beel was adamant about MC going to the gym with him when the morning came, before everyone was out of bed. Of course she’d said no since the beginning, but he kept insisting, saying she didn’t have to exercise if she didn’t want to.

MC still said no.

Then Asmodeus put his input.

“I’m not going to tell you what to do, hon’, but you aren’t getting your 8 hours of sleep and you’re adding calories during the night. That’s horrible for your skin!”

And had it been her mother saying that, MC would’ve lashed out, rejecting opinions she’d been hearing for years over and over and over again, but this was Asmo. The Avatar of Lust. The most beautiful demon in the entire Devildom. MC guessed she wasn’t being fair to her mother, who also loved her and hated seeing her so sick and tired all the time, when it was Asmo she couldn’t ignore.

“I get anxious when I go to bed” she finally confessed.

MC could feel Satan’s eyes on her, but he stayed silent.

“Spend the night with me” intervened Belphie with an honest smile, a muted worry in his eyes “I could make you so tired you wouldn’t want to get out of bed”

“No way!”

Everyone looked at Mammon and several sighs filled the room. The demon, although deeply blushing, kept talking with an overbearing smugness.

“If someone’s gonna sleep with her, it’s gonna be me! Don’t worry MC, the Great Mammon will chase the nightmares away!”

“I think sleeping with you would give her nightmares, actually”

Mammon turned to Levi, ready to swing at his brother, but MC talked before the fight started.

“It’s not nightmares, Mams, I just feel anxious. You know, like, I can’t stop thinking”

“About what?”

She looked at Satan, who was staring at her with a calculating glance, surely remembering what she told him days before when she fell asleep on the couch.

“I don’t know… Everything, I guess”

All of them stayed silent, ignoring what they were previously doing. It didn’t feel uncomfortable, but MC wished someone said anything.

Of course, Mammon spoke first.

“Well, that’s a lot”

“No shit, you moron”

Levi finally got smacked and the rest of them went back to do their own thing, letting MC’s lack of sleep behind. A part of her wanted to keep the conversation going, but she felt too embarrassed when she tried to open her mouth again, especially having Satan looking at her like a hawk.

You don't want me to stare at you? I want to. What's the problem?

She achieved to ignore him in the end.

That night she stayed in her room, pacing, chewing her sweatshirt’s aglet while humming that Phineas and Ferb’s song and turning her headphone’s volume to the maximum with a different music threatening to deteriorate her hearing.

Anything to distract herself and not go to the kitchen.

Finally, hours after bidding the brothers goodnight, MC threw herself on the bed. Her feet were aching, its footprints surely engraved in the carpet, and she forgot to take her headphones off, making the position uncomfortable, but the important thing was that she didn’t have the need to eat anymore.

However, Beel still knocked her door at dawn.

MC stared at him when she opened, bleary-eyed and mouth as dry as cotton, the hem of her pyjama pants so high they looked like pantaloons. He, on the other hand, was completely awake and seemed ready to conquer the day.

“Before you say anything, I’m not going to the gym today”

There was a heavy silence for a couple of seconds.

“Then why did you wake me up? We have classes tomorrow”

Beel stared at her with a worried expression.

“We don’t. It’s Saturday”

“Ah”

She could’ve sleep longer? MC wished she was mad at him, but his puppy stare was hypnotizing.

“I want to go for a walk today. And I want you to come with me”

He lowered his gaze for a moment, biting his cheek while waiting for an answer. MC turned around and looked at the window, still unable to decipher what time it was by looking at the sky.

There were a few things MC missed from the human realm. The sun was one of them.

“We could go to the park, feed some birds and then have breakfast somewhere else. I swear I won’t eat the seeds this time"

She chuckled, rolling her eyes when he smiled back. Then she looked down at the rolled pants and her bare legs.

“Is it cold?”

“I don’t think so, but you can borrow my jacket”

MC sighed and rubbed her eyes, waiting until the white spots disappeared before walking towards her closet. She wouldn’t be able to fall asleep again, she knew that.

“Let me change and then we’re going. But you owe me one, Beel!”

His smile was too wide for him to answer.

Breakfast with Beel ended up lasting three whole hours, which was understandable, and they spent the whole time talking about nothing and almost everything, both of them clearly avoiding the subject of her sleeping habits.

MC really did want to talk about it, but then again, what did she want to talk about exactly? She had trouble falling asleep, yes, and she’d gone back to eating her feelings, but she couldn’t point out the reason. Her nights were filled with paranoia, making her revaluate every piece of interaction she’d had since she got back home from the Devildom months ago. Did she spoke correctly? Did people understand that she was just studying abroad and not begging for attention?

She hoped her best friend dropped those accusations. MC would never stoop so low. Just thinking about it brought tears to her eyes.

“Don’t you want anything else?”

MC looked at Beel and the stack of plates surrounding him at the table, mugs and cardboard boxes stained with chocolate, whipped cream and frosting. Her side of the booth was much cleaner, but when she lowered her gaze the only thing she could think of were mugcakes and pasta and the taste of bile in her mouth at the sight of her bloated stomach.

“No, I’m fine”

She knew he loved her. She knew she could talk to him and he would listen and maybe even hold her hand, but the small restaurant was already filled with demons and witches and whatnot and MC knew she’d only be able to sob the moment she’d open her mouth, so she stayed quiet.

Beel nodded, going back to his food with a strange calmness. Maybe he was close to being full?

But no, it wasn’t that.

MC gasped when she felt his foot weakly tapping hers before going under it to support its weight. A small comfort, like the prelude of a long awaited hug.

He didn’t know how much she appreciated it.

Winter had already reached the Devildom the day MC opened her closet and stared at her clothes. No matter what she chose, everything was at least a size bigger.

She guessed finally going to the gym with Beel did have some payoff.

“Is something wrong, MC?”

Asmo turned the lights of her bathroom off, walking where she was silently standing while staring at the discarded clothes around her.

“You don’t feel like dressing up today? We can stay home and do some self-care if you want”

MC turned around to look at him with gratitude. She knew how much he wanted to go shopping, especially with her. Finals ended just the day before and everyone had been so occupied they’d barely seen each other outside classes and meal times.

“Don’t worry, it’s not that. It’s just that… everything feels wrong. I think I lost weight”

He chuckled at her revelation, hugging her waist and kissing her cheek between giggles.

“You’re taking care of yourself, silly! Whatever are you doing with Beel in the gym, I wonder…?”

She laughed and lightly hit his arm, showing no ill intent, and Asmo smiled in response, not bothering to hide his lewd expression.

“Don’t be nasty!”

“Oh, I’m just joking! But you know what this means, right? We get to renew your whole closet!”

MC turned around again, perfectly knowing that she could either spent her monthly allowance on clothes or start thinking on how she could rock the oversize streetwear style.

She sighed, trying to hide her smile with no success before speaking again. Asmo’s eyes were stuck on her.

“Very well, then” she wasn’t finish talking yet when the demon clapped his hands and jumped in excitement “I’ll trust your criteria”

He gasped and hit her arm in return.

“As you should!”

“So… how do I look?”

Mammon whistled, clapping and signalling her to turn around in response. Once she did a little twirl, he clapped even harder, not stopping even when she blushed in embarrassment and ran towards him to stop his overly excited appreciation.

“You look mighty fine, MC!”

“Stop!”

“Has anyone ever told you how hot you look?”

“Stop!!”

They were both laughing, her chasing him all around his room with burning cheeks and a gigantic smile.

The shopping bags waited patiently at the door, half of them already empty with a pile of clothes folded on the couch. Mammon had insisted on a private catwalk the moment he learnt she’d gone shopping with Asmo, his offense completely gone barely half an hour after starting the show in his room.

Every time she changed in his opened closet he’d cover his eyes with his hands and every time she came out with a new outfit he’d scream praises like a madman.

MC wasn’t used to this level of compliments and he sure was making it hard to stay calm.

“C’mon, go change again!”

“You’re acting insane right now, Mams”

She was smiling like crazy and her cheeks were hurting, but she didn’t want it to stop. When was the last time someone had been this hyped over her looking pretty? She couldn’t remember.

Then her phone rang.

MC stopped smiling when she saw the name on the screen.

She thought about answering and spoiling a nice evening because of a sour one-sided conversation. Was it worth it? Sure her friend could wait a couple more hours, right? She’d survived without MC the whole year she spent at the Devildom uncommunicated, after all.

“Is it The Unnameable?”

MC stared at her phone for one more second before turning around to look at Mammon, who was kneeling on the couch with his arms crossed over the backrest, eyes peeking with curiosity and another feeling she couldn’t identify.

“The Unname… Robdemor??”

He nodded, blushing and looking away.

“Yeah. You know, like, her name brings bad luck or some shit”

“She doesn’t bring bad luck”

MC didn’t sound as convincing as she wanted to and Mammon’s incredulity proved her point.

“Don’t be stupid, MC”

The pot calling the kettle back, she wanted to say, but no words came to her mouth. She was being stupid, wasn’t she? Everyone at the house already knew what to expect whenever her phone ringed or vibrated and they always did their best to distract her so she could leave the damn thing behind. She suspected Belphie even turned it off at one point.

Staring at her feet, trying to voice her feelings, MC talked again.

“She just… needs me sometimes”

“Sometimes??”

Mammon got up, going around the couch to reach her. He looked flabbergasted, eyes opened wide and a myriad of words stuck in his throat.

The phone stopped ringing, but soon a flood of messages interrupted the silence to call for her attention instead. When she looked back at Mammon, he had frustration in his eyes.

She decided then she couldn’t bear to see him like this, so serious and reasonable. Was it too late to go back to chasing each other, laughing while trying new clothes? She’d been capable of keeping her feelings to herself since she could remember, but Mammon wouldn’t let her do that and she feared the moment the rest of the brothers decided enough was enough too.

God, she needed to talk, but not right now. Talking would make it real and she still wasn’t strong enough for the whole situation to be real.

In a matter of seconds her eyes were watering and she felt as if her throat had thorns stuck in her flesh, but before she could do anything about it there were arms wrapping around her. MC wasted no time hugging Mammon back, trying her hardest not to spoil any tears. The tags in the back of her new shirt poked her skin, making her squirm and get even closer to Mammon’s body.

He was rocking her side to side while petting her hair and there was no doubt he’d deny the whole ordeal happening afterwards, but she let herself enjoy the feeling anyways. It was nice being taken care of.

It was the first time MC had gone to bed so early since before college. Her eyelids felt heavy and the bed was soft and comfortable, at least three blankets shielding her from the cold outside that froze her window and sunk her room in darkness.

But she couldn’t stop staring at her phone.

She’d turned the vibration off days ago, but that didn’t stop the notifications from showing up on the lock screen and, although she could also take care of that, MC still wanted to be able to read the messages without needing to open the app.

Her best friend talked about everything, good or bad. Mostly bad. How she thought her boyfriend was cheating on her, even when she was the one cheating on him, how much she was eating because there was no one to stop her, how tired she was to even clean her cat’s litter box. She’d say if MC were there everything would be so much better, she wouldn’t feel so lonely.

She didn’t ask about MC once.

“You’re thinking so hard it’s giving me a headache”

MC’s body violently jerked at Belphie’s voice.

He’d entered the room in silence, closing the door and approaching her bed without making any noise. Seeing her freaking out made him snicker, but he was too tired to fully laugh and simply laid down next to her.

“Jesus, Belphie”

“No, just me”

“Ha ha ha”

Her sarcasm didn’t affect him in the slightest. MC watched as he closed his eyes and offered his hand to held hers in a firm grasp, probably not wanting to let her go during the night.

“Turn that damn thing off” he growled against the pillow when a new message showed up.

“I’ve seen you sleep on the ground before; you can’t complain about some light”

“Watch me”

She thought he was just joking, challenging her like a small child would, but Belphie managed to surprise her when he rolled over her body, grabbed the phone and threw it to the other side of the room.

“Belphie!”

He shushed, sealing her lips under his hand before hugging her body with all four limbs, trapping her under the covers.

MC could’ve complained and hit him until he let her go to retrieve the phone, but that would’ve meant pissing him off and staring at the screen for another hour or until her friend decided it was time to show some interest in MC’s life.

…

Whoa.

…

So that’s what it was.

That simple, uh?

MC waited for something to happen at her epiphany. Nausea, panic, heavy breathing. Instead, she felt an overpowering sense of relief. Her heartbeat evened and the frown she didn’t know she had in her forehead disappeared.

No headache, no memories. For once, no nothing.

“You’re not dying, aren’t you?”

Belphie’s head rose, looking at her with suspicion, but her eyes were stuck in the ceiling.

“Why? Would you feel guilty?

He stood over her then, pouting and frowning, and MC had to stop herself from laughing.

“Okay, you know what? I already said I was sorry. You can’t hold that against me for the rest of your life”

“I will as long as I can get something out of it”

“You’re evil”

“Said the demon”

His head fell face first on the pillow with a thud and if she didn’t know him any better, she’d be worried about him suffocating to death during the night.

“Why did you ask that, tho?” MC finally talked.

“Your heart stopped for a second” he shrugged and mumbled, his hold on her hand stronger than before.

“Oh… Well… Don’t worry. I’m okay”

“Are you sure?”

No, not really, but she didn’t want to talk about it in that moment. Maybe another time, when her speech wasn’t slurred due to sleep and she could organize her thoughts with a clear mind.

She hummed as an answer before speaking one last time.

“Goodnight, Belphie”

“Sweet dreams, MC”

He’d make sure of that.

MC had been quiet for a while. Not out of sadness nor ire, but something much more private. Something that left her pensive and still, staring into nothing with a serious expression. She laughed and talked with the brothers and, from what he heard, she enjoyed going to the gym with Beel, but Lucifer knew there was another factor escaping his reach.

Whatever it was, it changed MC for the better, so he was happy.

Even when the strangest ideas crossed her mind.

“I think I’m going to cut my hair”

He looked at her, clicking his tongue in disapproval when he saw her sitting sideways in one of the chairs with her feet resting in the other. She had a book resting in her lap. How long had she been looking at him and not reading?

“May I ask why?”

“I need a change”

Lucifer stared, taking his glasses off before crossing his arms over the document he was previously reading. MC got up and walked, zigzagging her way towards his desk as if she was drunk, but she looked as hopeful as ever.

“Did something happen?”

She nodded, ignoring his question right after.

“One of these days I’m just gonna… grab a glass of wine, go to the bathroom and bam! Haircut”

He raised an eyebrow, trying to hide a smile at her words. He hadn’t seen her so playful in months and the sudden change felt like a breath of fresh air.

“Do you even like wine, MC?”

“That’s not the point”

“And you shouldn’t use scissors while drunk, especially near your head” he ignored her “If it’s money you’re worried about, I can pay for a good hairdresser”

She laughed and shook her head, partially sitting on the desk. They stayed silent for a few seconds and Lucifer let himself observe her, how she bit her bottom lip deep in thought and how her fingers intertwined with a certain force. She was probably hurting herself at that point.

“I just really need a change”

He could tell there was more she wanted to say, but that seemed to be enough for the moment. The silence afterwards felt full with comfort.

“That’s fine”

MC nodded and sent him a small smile before going back to the chair, this time sitting with her knees stuck to her chest, but before he could put his glasses on to continue his work, she spoke again.

“Here’s what we’re going to do: I cut my hair in the bathroom and then you take me to the hairdresser to style it. Sounds good?”

“Are you going to drink while using the scissors?”

“I’m not a child, Lucifer”

“Might as well”

“Hey!”

“Just joking” he laughed, but MC could tell there was some seriousness behind his smile.

“I drink wine, I cut my hair and you check I don’t stab myself on accident, how about that?”

Lucifer pondered about it, envisioning himself behind her and watching over her reflection in the mirror, a bottle of wine in the countertop and another of Demonus waiting for them in the music room. She’d be the one to clean the aftermath, that bit was obvious, but something told him she wouldn’t really care about that.

The more he thought about it, the less strength he had to fight it. She could’ve asked Asmodeus or Mammon, but she asked him. MC wanted him to be with her during her progress, as stupid as the method was.

“Sounds like a plan to me, MC”

Her smile at his words was worth millions.

It wasn’t until several hours had passed that MC wondered if Levi invited her to his room with a hidden motive in mind.

The anime came out less than a day ago and she’d never even seen an ad about it, but he’d thoroughly claimed it was made for her.

And she could see why he would say that, honestly.

Sure, no ancient dying star granted her any mystical powers that allowed her to soar the skies or wear an alarmingly short sparkly dress; and she didn’t have an animal sidekick or a romantic interest that only appeared at night for some reason. She didn’t have an arch nemesis either, but she did have the closest thing.

MC was the selfish one, apparently, because how could she? How could MC have the audacity to ignore her best friend’s messages in her desperate times of need? Her boyfriend broke up with her because he discovered the cheating and no one was there to remind her of feeding the cat, neither to monitor her diet nor to fix the consequences of her bad decisions. She was in the lowest point of her life and MC dared to lose weight and spend time with her new friends? Outrageous!

MC unlocked her phone and stared in silence at the new text and voice messages, as well as some missed calls.

You disappoint me, MC.

After all I did for you?

I’ll die and it’ll be your fault.

I’ll die and I’ll make sure you’re the one to discover my body.

You’ll never be able to forget about me then.

You’re disgusting.

MC stared at the screen, not knowing if she should laugh or cry about it. In the end she chuckled and forced down the sting in her throat.

The TV in front of her suddenly turned into a kaleidoscope and she squinted as the heroine jumped from platform to platform, blasting her wand and singing spells. If she understood correctly, the cheery character was fighting her way through the first big boss of the season, her friends close behind her.

She could feel Levi’s eyes on her, no doubt studying her reactions to see if she liked the anime as much as he did.

“Hey, Henry!”

MC turned to look at him and smiled brightly at his rosy cheeks. She expected him to explain some hidden lore or the meaning behind the soundtrack, but he surprised her with his next words.

“Yeah?”

“I haven’t told you yet, but your hair looks so cool!”

“Oh!” she widely opened her eyes in appreciation, showing her teeth in a beaming smile right after “Thanks, Levi!”

“You look… eh… upgraded. Well, no, not upgraded. Erm…” he avoided her gaze for the next few seconds before pausing the anime, letting the room go back to silence. MC kept quiet, trying not to laugh at his awkwardness so he wouldn’t misunderstand the situation.

“You look really pretty, MC. Even better than her”

Levi nodded at the TV and MC stared at the heroine, the pause conveniently showing her winning pose. Big sparkly eyes winking at her and a knowing smile occupying half of her face, as if she was approving Levi’s affirmation.

MC felt the need to cry right then and there, but she held it in.

Her phone lighted up one last time before she grabbed it and turned it off in anger. She had a couple of seconds before the screen permanently went back to black, letting her read the last message.

Who do you think you are? How could you do this to me?

MC seethed. She knew who she was, even if she was still learning. Her hands itched and she forced herself not to throw the phone on the ground with all her strength. She still needed it to talk to other friends and relatives, after all.

After an entire minute filled with tense silence, MC spoke, suddenly meek and shy.

“Hey Lev…”

“MC?”

He was staring her with caring eyes, unsure of what to do or what to say.

Fortunately, for the first time in a long while, MC knew what she needed to do. For herself and no one else.

“Would you help me change my phone number?”

She could write down the numbers of those she cared about the most and send a message asking them not to share hers without her permission.

Take care of her arch nemesis without destroying the entire world. Accept the help of people who showed joy at her improvement. Buy new clothes, change her style, cut her hair.

God, walking without that heavy weight on her shoulders would be difficult and painful, but she’d rather die before letting her ex best friend destroy her will and power one last time.

She laughed with a choke and Levi gasped her name.

She was crying.

@ourfinalisation

321 notes · View notes

olderthannetfic · 3 months

Note

I'm sick and tired of people writing posts about how if you don't always support your "crisis friend," then you're a horrible piece of shit who sucks the dick of capitalism and only thinks through hyper-individualism. I'm fully convinced that these people never had to deal with a "crisis friend," and they're either surrounded by (mostly) mentally healthy people or they are the crisis friend and don't realize it.

A crisis friend sucks the life out of you, will cross all the boundaries you'll set, and then, once you tell them that you're hurt by their behavior, they'll go to other friends and act like you're a big meanie who abused them.

I recently had to close off a relationship with a crisis friend because their objective in life was to drag me down too.

I like an actor? He's surely a rapist. I post a fic and people enjoy it? I shouldn't be happy about it because the fandom is small and those are very few comments and I'm wasting my time. I find the name of an aesthetic I like? I'm not allowed to, because it reminds them of *extremely triggering memory they'll tell me about in detail when the only thing I wanted to talk about was something silly.* I wasn't allowed to discuss my employment situation because theirs is wobbly at best, and if my family gifted me something nice for whatever occasion, I had to keep it to myself because it would upset them.

Crisis friends won't bother remembering your birthday (not even the month, just to have a general idea of when they're supposed to ask you about the specific date), they won't bother remembering what you like, and they won't care about your boundaries.

I have very few "no-nos," in friendships, and one of them is that I don't want to be put anywhere near the word or concept of rape because I was sexually assaulted as a teen and it was so traumatic I had to drop out of college and go through EMDR. My crisis friend never bothered remembering that, gleefully sending me articles of celebrities who got accused of having assaulted someone.

This is not friendship, and you're not sucking capitalism's cock if you don't want to be someone's burnt-out, underpaid, and mistreated therapist, and I don't give a shit about what Wannabe Communist Tumblr Users think about it.

One trillion percent they are the crisis friend.

And they do realize it.

That's why they're writing guilt trip posts to try to move Tumblr's general understanding of boundaries and appropriate behavior back in a direction that favors them.

Your particular... uh... "friend" sounds more than usually toxic.

The more commonplace version of the crisis friend is a lot better at not sending you triggering stuff and not insulting the fuck out of your interests.

They do still want free therapy all the time and have trouble understanding why that's just not a fair burden to put on their friends and/or they do kind of know but are in too much of a crisis all the time to figure out how to stop.

271 notes · View notes

wardenparker · 16 days

Text

Hummingbird Has Landed, ch 10

Marcus Pike x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

After the debacle of his failed engagement and relocating to Washington to take charge of his task force, newly minted Special Agent Marcus Pike is ready to get back out into the dating pool once more. A slew of bad dates has him feeling a little down, and he takes an old friend up on an invitation to get away and get his head on straight. Imagine his surprise when he finds not only fresh air, but his soulmate as well - hiding in plain sight but in the unlikeliest of places.

Rating: Mature, but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 12.3k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: occasional mention of American politics, pregnant character, food/alcohol consumption, mentions of clothing/regulated dressing for occasions, mentions of therapy because we believe in self care here, reader is in a previous relationship, love triangle, reader is mentioned as turning 30 during the course of the story, dom/sub dynamics* In-laws (nice ones though!), passing mention of federal agents possessing guns, family dynamics, that one family member that married someone awful, the mystery of Agent Bailey begins to unravel, discussion of life in the public eye, planning for the future, discussion of collaring. Summary: After a rather dramatic birthday, heading to Texas to meet Marcus's family seems like a walk in the park. Notes: I am 100% certain that I have missed errors this week, loves. But alas, ya girl is back to working five days a week and she is SO tired. ✌ Please enjoy the chaos that is the Pike extended family!

Ch1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7 ~ Ch 8 ~ Ch 9

The flight from Washington DC to Dallas is just over three hours long and you had agreed that it would be better to leave early in the morning on Saturday to arrive at his family's compound before lunchtime. The last two weeks have been a dream as you and Marcus spend basically all of your extra time together, sharing dinners after work and alternating beds for overnight stays. He's even come to his first Friday Night Dinner with your family, which makes it all the more appropriate that you're now flying with him to meet his.

Airline points used, Marcus was well aware that on a commercial flight, Agent Bailey would be much more comfortable with First Class and boarding the plane last. Allowing for the rest of the plane to embark so they were not filing past her and you. Now that the flight is closed and you are settled into your seat, he looks over at you with a smile. "Ready for chaos?" He asks playfully, picking up your hand. "My family is....energetic."

“I’m excited,” you assure him. You’re also nervous, but that’s natural. His big family is having their annual springtime get together for the start of baseball season and — according to Marcus — this is the biggest Pike family get together of the year. It’s a week of pickup games with his cousins, big family meals, revisiting old favorite haunts, and catching up on life. It used to be a way to help distract Marcus and his Mom as his Dad started out the new season every year and started traveling, but now it’s just their favorite reason to get together.

“Don’t feel like you have to do anything you don’t feel like.” Marcus insists. “Plenty of times half the cousins or wives and husbands end up in the stands watching and shit talking.”

“Baby if you think I’m not playing at least one game, you’re nuts.” Marcus has been so sweet about reassuring you and making sure you know nothing is expected of you on this trip, but frankly it just sounds like fun. Like the kind of happy chaos that is a complete break from your normal life.

He flashes you a grin. “I was hoping you’d say that.” He admits shamelessly. “After the games, we grill out or eat whatever we threw on the smoker that morning.” He shrugs. “It’s a party the entire time.”

“I’m looking forward to it.” You have been, and you are, and seeing him get excited would make the whole thing worth it even if you weren’t.

“Everyone is excited to meet you.” He promises. “Oh and mom asked if you had any allergies? Food or otherwise?” He shoots you a sheepish grin. “Forgot to ask.”

“Nothing at all. I’ll eat anything you put in front of me and sniff whatever weird Texas plants you guys have got.” A teasing grin counters his embarrassed one. “My brother and I did a campaign stop in Texas; I don’t think there was anything too sniffly in Austin. But I know the state is big.”

“Huge.” He snorts, smirking slightly. “You know what they say. ‘Everything’s bigger in Texas’.” He jokes.

"Oh yeah?" The smirk that forms on your face is immediate and you lean over to nudge his shoulder. "Is that how you grew up so big?"

“Not that big.” He chuckles. “My cousins – the males – are bigger.”

Snorting slightly, you can't help but laugh as you nudge Marcus again. "That sounds painful."

“Shit.” Marcus chokes and shakes his head. “I didn’t mean that.”

"Well good," you're still laughing, juvenile sense of humor on full display even if you're quiet. "Otherwise I'd feel bad for their spouses."

He snorts and leans into press his lips to yours. “I’m the biggest.” He boasts, completely lying and he winks to acknowledge that. Not like him and his cousins have compared…since before puberty.

"Naughty." It's chastising, but you giggle as you steal another kiss as you both settle back in your seats for a short but comfortable flight.

Marcus hums as the flight attendant comes by. “Do you want a mimosa?” He asks softly. “Start our vacation off right?”

"Why not? Let's have a fancy flight." First class is already a bit of an extravagance, and you smile at the flight attendant gratefully. They are well aware of who is on board – Agent Bailey had background checks run on the flight crew as a precaution – and discreetly point out your agent to the gentleman. "And a cup of coffee for the woman in the suit right over there? She'll say she doesn't want anything but I know she'd love a cup right about now."

“Yes madam.” He nods and smiles back at you, finding it refreshing that you aren’t over demanding like some political figures. One asshole really set his teeth on edge last month.

"Thank you so much." The last thing you want to do is make a fuss for the flight crew, and you sit back with Marcus's hand in yours. As nervous as you might be, this is going to be a good week.

“Anywhere you want to see in particular?” Marcus asks, stretching his legs in the extra space the first row gives you. “We don’t have to rent a car. Although I know Agent Bailey will want one of the Secret Service vehicles to follow.

"I want to see whatever you want to show me. Any place you used to hang out when you were growing up, or favorite local places, or even places you've never been that you've always wanted to go." It's his hometown, after all, even if he wasn't born there. Texas is where he became the Marcus that you know and love.

“There’s a band that’s playing Friday night.” Marcus tells you. “At the bar where I used to play.” He chuckles. “It’s my old bandmates.”

"One hundred percent." Your agreement is absolutely instant and there is a giant smile on your face. "No contest. It will be the perfect way to spend our last night in Dallas. Well...last night for now. I know we'll come back plenty of times."

“Awesome.” His grin is wide, happy that you would want to listen to some music and hang out. Potentially meeting old friends. “Then that’s what we’ll do. You’ll like the place.”

"I'll love it." Just like everything else this week, you're looking forward to it because it's something that you'll share with him. It's the early memories of your relationship, as you share the things with each other that made you who you are.

The family compound is exactly that. A compound. Built during the first contract with the Yankees, Pike’s Place as it was fondly referred to, had started out as a way for Marcus’s dad to build the retirement home of his parents’ dreams and ended up being the multi-generational property it is today.

There are more than a half dozen buildings in the property, a large pool and a garden, and even their own personal baseball diamond. It’s like having a resort built specifically for his family. Stuck smack in the middle between a ranch to the south and another large family property to the north, no one would even have any idea that neighbors existed around here if they weren’t told about it.

The main house is a beautiful American Craftsman-style building with a deep front porch and a swing out front, painted bold blue and white against the yellow Texas sun. Matthew and Donna Pike’s house is well-appointed but far bigger than it looks on the outside, and all around it is a stunning garden that they keep together as a shared hobby. The backyard sprawls on endlessly, but for right now you can see more cars than people. It looks like everyone is congregating with Uncle Matt and Aunt Donna.

Marcus’s smile gets visibly wider the closer you get and when the car stops, he’s almost vibrating with joy. He’s not nervous at all, knowing that his entire family will adore you. “Are you ready?” He asks again, not even waiting to the reply before he is shooting out of the car to open the door for you.

“You didn’t tell me you grew up in the cutest place on Earth,” you tease happily, practically giggling at how picturesque it is as you get out of the rental car.

“It’s home.” He looks around the property proudly. “Even when we were living somewhere else because of dad’s job, this was always home.”

“It’s beautiful.” You squeeze into his side and grin back at Agent Bailey as she gets out of the second rental car. “I hope you get to relax a little while we’re down here, too. It’s got to be a hell of a nice change of pace from looking at the inn every day.”

Agent Bailey notes the fence that seems to stretch around the property with approval. “We might be more secure here.”

“Glad to hear it.” Anything that makes her more comfortable is more than okay with you. With as hard as she works, she deserves to be able relax whenever she can.

“Dad installed a fence when he had some fans come up to the house when he was on an away trip.” Marcus explains. They had done one of those ‘where the star athletes live’ things in the Sports Illustrated magazine and someone figured out where it was.” He shakes his head. “Dad was furious, and the compound got an upgrade.”

“Sounds like a solid response to me,” the Secret Service agent agrees as she looks around the property.

“Although, he does open the compound up for youth programs. Training, spending the day with baseball players.” Marcus smiles proudly.

“I love how proud of him you are.” You slip your hand into Marcus’s again and give him a beaming smile. “Time for the chaos, baby. Let’s do it.”

Marcus laughs as the two of you hear the playful shouts from the backyard. The little welcoming barbecue that your father had insisted on was already in full swing. He can’t wait to see how you take all of his cousins and nieces and nephews wearing name tags.

It only takes about a second before someone notices you, letting out a boisterous shout across the yard and garden. “Well, looky what the cat dragged in!”

“Charlie.” Marcus leans in to tell you as every head turns your way. “First cousin from my mom’s side. Can’t believe he’s the first one.”

“Is Charlie not usually this friendly?” You ask under your breath, smiling and waving as more and more heads turn your way.

“Just…unobservant.” Marcus hums, smiling wider when his mother drops her platter of finger foods on a table and rushes forward. “You made it!”

Dr. Donna Pike is a tall woman with a wide smile and honey brown eyes, but right now her most noticeable feature is her long arms which reach out to fold out her only son like a protective mama bird. "Flight was okay?" She asks, smiling at Marcus's nod before she shifts over to hug you in turn.

When she had been told that Marcus had found his soulmate, she had been thrilled. Not because he had to be with his soulmate, she wasn’t narrow minded like that, but because he’s always had so much love to give. She can only hope that you will do well receiving it and return a fraction of it back to him. The others hadn’t seen how pure his heart is. She says your name and squeezes you tight. “How are you? It’s such a delight to meet you.”

"Thank you for having me." Her hands are on your shoulder and it's instantly obvious where Marcus's beaming smile comes from. "I've heard so many wonderful things from Marcus about his family, I'm really excited to meet everyone."

“Well if anyone is too much, or we all are, you just tell us to go away.” She snorts, shooting you a grin. “We are a bit much as a collective.”

"I promise my threshold for much is very high." It has to be, with the kind of people that are always around political figures, but this week is not about you. You do smile again, though, and urge Agent Bailey to come closer than her usual three steps away. "And thank you for understanding that things are not very conventional for me right now. This is Agent Bailey. She's my duty agent and an absolutely superb human."

Donna smiles at the agent, although she doesn’t attempt to hug her. Aware that it might be deemed as threatening. “She is also extremely welcomed.” She nods and offers her hand. “I hope you can relax and have some fun as well, Agent Bailey. We have a comfortable room set up for you at the top of the stairs, just down the hall from them.”

"Thank you, Dr. Pike." Agent Bailey accepts the handshake gratefully. Some people perceive her presence as threatening and that just isn't the case. Especially not here.

“Please, call me Donna.” She insists. “Now, we’ve told the children they are not to ask about your gun, but I do hope that you will change out of your suit into more weather appropriate clothes?” She asks. “Texas is too hot for bespoke all day.”

Agent Bailey actually laughs at that, and you smile when she nods. "I'll be dressed down while I'm here, don't worry about that. Being conspicuous doesn't do much good in protection most of the time."

“Good.” Marcus’s mother smiles. “I’ve also taken the liberty of moving Marcus’s gun safe into your room. For when you are needing to secure it.” She frowns and looks towards Marcus. “Did you bring your own, sweetheart? I didn’t think to ask.”

"Very kind of you, ma'am, but not necessary." Agent Bailey assures her. "I have a portal safe in my luggage. Agent Pike also has his firearm so we'll both be secure and safe that way."

“Told you.” Matthew Pike snakes his arm around his wife and kisses her cheek. “Always overthinking. But I love it.”

"Precautions are good, sweetheart," Donna reminds him, but she smiles.

Marcus and his father could be twins, except for the older man has more pronounced wrinkles from a career spent in the sun. “So this is the gorgeous creature the universe paired you with?” He unwinds his arm from around his own soulmate to pull his son into a bear hug. “Aren’t you a lucky man?”

"I swore I was only going to do this once while we were here." Standing beside Marcus and practically vibrating, you know you probably look silly but you don't care. "Mr. Pike, I am a huge fan and I promise there will be no more fangirling from this point on, but I just wanted to say that once."

There’s a grin that matches his son’s, currently on both of the Pike men’s faces. “Marcus….she has taste.” He teases, winking at you and pulling you in for a hug. “You can fangirl all you like, sweetheart.”

“I’m just very excited to be here,” you admit, laughing as you hug your soulmate’s father in turn. “Marcus…he’s absolutely amazing. I hope you’re as proud of him as he is of both of you.”

“More-so.” Matthew promises, already liking you. “Although, let’s get you settled and a first drink in your hand before we introduce you to everyone else, hm?”

You and Marcus follow his parents through the house and Agent Bailey notes the features of the house with interest but doesn’t interfere. So far, everything is straight forward. She just hopes it stays that way. For your sake.

The tour of the house is easy. A large, open concept main living area is perfect for entertaining, and lines of sight. “Our bedroom is downstairs.” Donna explains. “So you kids will have the top floor to yourselves. Everyone else is staying in the bunkhouse this trip.”

The bunkhouse, as it has been explained to you, is the largest building on the compound which basically amounts to a Pike family motel. Plenty of parking and plenty of rooms to stay in makes it the place that is customarily occupied by Marcus's enormous brood of cousins. "And I'm sure Marcus told you," Matthew glances back at you as the five of you walk together. "But the basement is a game room. Foosball table, game systems, all that kind of thing."

“I was going to show her.” Marcus admits with a shrug. “But she’s bowled in the White House, I doubt our game room would impress her.”

"You are seriously underestimating my love of foosball," you assure Marcus. "I'm terrible at it, but I love it."

“Don’t worry.” Matthew chuckles. “My son excels at pool but cannot figure out a foosball table.”

"Then we can be terrible together," you decide, thankfully garnering a laugh from both Marcus and his parents.

“Which will be a lot of fun.” Marcus chuckles. “When bad weather rolls through, we enjoy the game room and there are people everywhere.” He warns. “One time, we had a checkers tournament, so all the little kids could be involved too.”

The group of you stop in the kitchen for large glasses of sweet tea, and Agent Bailey excuses herself to bring her things upstairs and change into some more civilian-oriented clothes. There are pictures of the family all around the house, but none as prevalent as the pictures of Marcus. His graduations, his triumphs, and some absolutely adorable childhood photos adorn the walls of the house, and you smile at every single one. At one time his wedding picture must have hung on these walls too, or other pictures of him and Lara, and for a moment your heart clenches with regret that he was ever hurt but swells with the knowledge that he’ll never be hurt like that again. The next wedding pictures on these walls will be of you with him, and those will never be coming down.

“Home sweet home.” Marcus hums, watching you take in the space that he had mostly grown up in.

“Ready kids?” Matthew Pike chuckles, opening the sliding kitchen doors to the backyard with great ceremony.

“Don’t worry.” Marcus quickly assures you. “Everyone has had their rabies shots. So they aren’t as feral as they seem.”

For all the teasing, the hugs from his cousins are immediate. They descend on you like a swarm of eager birds, flapping their wings and chattering away as they all introduce themselves and say how happy they are to see Marcus and to meet you.

Marcus smiles at every one of them. Greets them like long lost friends, which they are. They are the friends of his entire childhood and he's happy to introduce you.

A man wearing a name tag that marks him as Uncle Rob holds up two more name tags proudly — one emblazoned Marcus and the other Birdie. “Marcus told us you prefer your nickname,” his father explains with a grin.

“It’s perfect,” you assure them, taking the name tag with a bursting heart. “Absolutely perfect.”

“Uncle Rob is a treasure.” Marcus tells you as he is pulled into a hug and slaps his uncle’s back.

"Uncle Rob is his mother's younger brother," the man clarifies with a happy grin. "Four of the cousins are ours, but I won't quiz you on the family tree just yet."

"I appreciate that." Your laugh of acknowledgement comes easily. "But I've been studying, I promise."

Marcus laughs, knowing how worried you had been over this visit, and it seems as if you are blending in well. He reaches out and squeezes your hip affectionately. “She’s a quick study.”

"Probably mandatory." One of his cousins – her nametag says Selena – teases as she offers you a hug. "Can't imagine the way family debates go when your Mom is the President."

"They're....active." You admit with another laugh. The hug is readily accepted, too. Pikes are apparently very huggy people. "I'm just glad we don't have to come up with opening and closing arguments."

She laughs and nods. “No, but here you might be asked the ERA or RBI stats of anyone you are a ‘fan’ of.” She advises. “So beware.”

"I can absolutely handle stats." For some reason Selena's energy is a lot more calm and reassuring than some of the other cousins, and you feel a little more at ease with her at the moment. "Most of the time I've got those on lock even when nobody's asked."

“How do you take your hotdog?” She asks, narrowing her eyes playfully. “Get it right and we can be friends.”

"It's not gonna be what you want it to be," you laugh, though you do appreciate the way Selena measures her new acquaintances. "I'm from Philly, so pepper hash and spicy mustard."

Her frown is replaced by a smirk and she nods. “You didn’t say ketchup, so you’re good in my book.” She smirks, eyeing Marcus who is huffing and rolling his eyes. “I don’t claim her.” He snorts.

"Too bad," you tease back, looping your arm through his cousin's. "She's delightful and I'm adopting her immediately."

“She’s not housebroken.” He warns, ducking the playful swat she aims towards him.

"Neither is my brother, and we let him into the White House," you snort, laughing even harder when Selena snickers.

Matthew chuckles and he pats his son on the shoulder. “Too late now, son, Selena has charmed her.” He advises.

"I steal hearts," the woman beside you jokes, throwing you an exaggerated wink. "My parents named me after Selena Kyle. It's not my fault."

“Last year you said you were named after Selena Quintanilla-Pérez.” He reminds her with a grin, slapping away her hand again and tapping her chin fondly. “You were lying?” Of course she was, considering she was nine when Selena rose to fame.

"You should keep the Catwoman reference," you advise her with a grin. "Mysterious and nerdy. Very sexy choices."

“See?” Selena smugly grins at Marcus. “Your soulmate has taste.”

Marcus can’t help but grin at that. “So I keep hearing.”

“I have the very best taste.” You agree with that assessment wholeheartedly, leaning back over to Marcus to kiss his cheek.

That makes him laugh quietly and he leans in to hug Selena. “You do. Especially in soulmates.” He teases.

“Oh no.” Pretending to be grossed out, Selena rolls her eyes dramatically but is smiling fully at seeing her cousin happy. “Did you finally find someone as gross as you are when you’re in love?”

“Grosser.” Marcus hums, grinning at you lovingly. “My perfect match.”

“Stop hogging them!” A voice calls out from halfway down the yard, and yet another of Marcus’s smiling cousins can be seen lounging on a picnic table. “We all need to get our annual harassment in, ya know!”

“Oh god.” Marcus hangs his head, even as he laughs. He knows everything is in good fun and he will be harassing them right back.

Thank god for the nametags. You'd be utterly lost without them, even after the flashcards you made for yourself with permission from Marcus to scout his Facebook page for photos of his family. There are just too many of them. The conversations swirl and so do the introductions, but Marcus sticks with you. By the time everyone starts eating the conversation dies down a little and you find yourself at a table with Marcus, his parents, Selena, and her twin sister Harper. Plates of barbecue and cold salads come with fresh glasses of cold sweet tea or cans of soda, and the most relaxed atmosphere of chaos you've been in the middle of in a long time. In your book, this is vastly preferable to a State dinner.

“So what do you think?” Even Agent Bailey has a plate and a drink in her hand, talking to Rodger, one of his dad’s oldest friends. He always comes to these weeks. “She’s gonna relax some?”

"Seems like it." The sight of Agent Bailey socializing is like a miracle to you. A unicorn in real life if ever you saw one. "Any chance your Dad's friend is a beer guy? I found out last week that Agent Bailey brews her own as a hobby and I am endlessly fascinated by all the niche hobbies I keep finding out she has."

Marcus chuckles. “Rodger owns the brewery that supplies the Rangers with the Pike’s Pints.” He explains. “So he’s kind of a renaissance man when it comes to beer.”

"So she has a new best friend?" You laugh, leaning into his side as you eat. "That's fantastic. I hope she has some new ideas to be excited about by the time the week is out."

“My question is this…when does she have time?” He asks, shaking his head. “She’s always with you.”

"I don't think she sleeps." It's a question you've asked yourself plenty of times, but have yet to find an answer. "Apparently she has a dog and a husband and everything? A whole damn life. I'm so glad that doing the job she does hasn't kept her from it."

“Holy shit.” He snorts and looks back at the woman in question with more than slight admiration. “She’s a superhero.”

"She really is." There's no denying that whatsoever.

The meal progresses and his mother smiles at you. “So please, tell me about your inn.” She insists. “Marcus said that you have created a beautiful oasis.”

"It's my happy place." The question – and the description – make you beam. "And...sort of my first child, as well. I bought it from the previous owners a few years ago and my best friend runs the restaurant. It's a beautiful historical property in Alexandria, just outside of DC."

“It sounds like it’s your baby.” She smiles happily and nods. “He has had nothing but praise for it, and you, since his first phone call.”

"He's been wonderfully supportive. I couldn't ask for a more understanding or helpful partner." You do flash him a grin, though, and decide to rat him out to his mother just a tiny bit. "I do think the restaurant is at least half the reason he spends so much time there, though. It's amazing."

“He has always led with his stomach.” Donna snorts, shooting you a conspiratorial grin. “When he was a teen, he was always starving.” She intones dramatically.

"Isn't that how all teenage boys are made?" The laugh you share isn't at his expense, just shared amusement, and you pick up your sandwich again. "At least, my brother was always that way. I swear he ate six meals a day from ages twelve to twenty."

Marcus laughs and Donna rolls her eyes. “Marcus still sometimes eats six meals a day.” She snorts. “At least that’s the way it sounds when he calls. Always snacking.”

“That’s probably my fault these days,” you admit with a guilty grin. “I’m a snacker. Maybe that’s just another fun little quirk in the broad scheme of things.”

“I just have to run more.” Marcus chuckles, picking up a pickle spear and biting it in half. “So I can still beat everyone here stealing second.”

“We’ll see.” Selena narrows her eyes at him in challenge. “I’ve been training.”

“Oh you have, have you?” Marcus snorts and winks at his cousin. “Twenty bucks says I steal more bases than you.”

“Fine,” Selena shrugs, smirking as she leans back in her seat. “I’ll be out there stealing more hearts, anyway.”

“I’ve already got the heart I want.” Marcus informs her, picking up your hand and kissing the back of it dramatically.

“I love you, too.” Over the weeks, the promise has become stronger between the two of you and little daydreams about the future don’t seem so far off anymore — though you haven’t really planned anything beyond agreeing that you want to be together.

"See?" He smirks towards Selena with a fluttering of his lashes. "She loves me, so I am complete."

“You’re completely gross and I’m very happy for you,” Selena teases back. “You’ll have the picturesque wedding you always dreamed of, and a million kids, and make an east coast version of Pike Place.”

"Ohhhhh." He tilts his head curiously as he looks back at you. "Modern day Kennedy Compound?" He suggests. "Our version of Hyannis Port at the inn?"

“That’s a lot bigger than a little colonial cottage at the back of the grounds,” you remind him, but the idea makes your chest swell with absolute love. “But I think if we build at the back of the property we could do a bigger house and get away with it. People wouldn’t even be able to tell the two are connected.”

He smiles at the idea. "We will have to find out who owns the property adjoining yours." He hums. "Expand."

“So you’re already talking about a family, then?” His father, obviously enamored of the thought, smiles broadly. His son has always been a family man, even when that definition just meant his best friends were his cousins.

"We are planning out a lot of things." Marcus admits with a grin, unable to contain the happiness at the idea. "Not sure when that's going to happen, but we are on the same page."

“Maybe sometime before we’re too old and gray to travel all the way to DC?” Matthew jokes, although he’s only half joking.

You groan quietly and Marcus smirks as he looks at you expectantly. "Told you." He laughs. "You said your parents would be first, but I knew it was going to be mine."

“I’m still shocked my Dad didn’t bring it up at dinner last night,” you admit. You had been absolutely certain that your folks would use Friday night dinner as a chance to interview you about your intentions as a couple.

"I'm sure he wanted to." He laughs. "But we've classified that as Need To Know." He jokes.

“That may be the only way to survive with them.” Still, you can’t help but let the smile grow on your face. “By their standards, we’re taking positively forever.”

"I guess that means we should just run off to Vegas and get married." Marcus teases with a wink. "Really mess with their expectations."

“We would have four parents very upset with us,” you remind him. Every time you joke about getting married or have a little daydream it just sounds better and better, but you would never push him to elope. His family means to much to him, just like yours does to you.

"Yes they would." Donna points her fork at him playfully. "I don't care how you get married, I just want to be there."

“Yes ma’am.” That gets an instant agreement from you — not at all ready to set the precedence of going against your future mother-in-law about something like this.

"Good." She smiles in approval and smirks at her husband. "We will clear our schedules whenever they decide on a date."

"Well," you laugh, leaning into Marcus's side. "I guess you were right about not needing to worry over their approval."

“The fact that I love you is all my parents ever need to know.” He smiles and Matthew nods. “Marcus has a good head on his shoulders and a heart of gold. With you being his soulmate, you have to be the same.”

For dinner on your second night in Texas, Marcus promises to take care of everything and disappears with a grin on his face while his mother and Selena take you on a long walk around the large gardens of the compound. Anticipating a little girl talk and some bonding with his family, you had readily agreed.

“So how are you liking Texas, Birdie?” Donna asks curiously as the three of you stroll in the warm morning. You have been a dream to have visit and it’s obvious that you adore Marcus, so she has loved you being here. She just wants to make sure the feeling is mutual.

“It’s beautiful.” It’s not too hot yet, being the beginning of April, and walking around the compound is a nice way to settle in and work off the big breakfast everyone had this morning. “I’ve only been here once before and this is far less stressful.”

“I am sure the campaign trail was never relaxing.” She sympathizes softly. “Although, if you have to take up the trail again, we can offer you a respite from the questions and prying wherever we can.” With being her baby’s soulmate, she will be just as protective over you.

“I’m sure when re-election comes, I’ll be volunteering to come to Texas again just to be able to see my in-laws.” The thought is actually relaxing, to be able to take respite with such kind people, but the in-laws part excites you a bit.

“In-laws.” She beams when you say that. “Now I promise I won’t insist that you call me ‘mother’ or anything, but I hope that we can be friends.”

“Let’s start with Donna and Birdie and go from there,” you suggest, smiling just as broadly as she is. “I absolutely want us to be friends. Marcus loves you all so much and I know it means the world to him.”

“He is our only child, and we want him to be happy.” She promises. “But that doesn’t mean smothering him or not letting him live his life.” She laughs. “Matthew almost had a heart attack when he came home one break to find Marcus with shoulder length hair and an earring. But he never said a word.”

“Oh, please tell me you have pictures of that.” Marcus had told you about his long hair phase, but claimed no photos remained. You’ve been hoping that his parents have one tucked away somewhere.

Donna grins. “I have them all.” She promises. “Snuck them up to the attic before he could burn them.”

“He looks like the nerdiest member of Nirvana,” Selena snorts, giggling with the jovial malice only family can truly master.

“He was…too polite to really pull off the grunge look.” Donna admits, smiling at Selena’s almost evil outlook.

“He’s such a sweetheart.” There are hearts in your eyes when you say it and you don’t care to hide them one bit. “It’s—he’s better than I could have dreamed of for myself. Truly.”

“I have to confess….” Donna looks out over the gardens and sighs. “I have been so very worried about Marcus. He’s is such a loving man. He always has been, from the time he was a baby. But when he called me to say he had discovered his soulmate…” she looks back at you. “I was so very afraid that you wouldn’t understand his heart.”

“How do you mean?” She obvious cares for her son very deeply, and you do want to make sure that the relationship you have with her is honest. No misunderstandings if you can help it — which means asking for clarification. “Because he’s so giving and quick to jump in headfirst?”

“Yes….and no.” She admits. “Marcus is….well, he’s a caretaker. A fixer. You have a problem, he comes up with a solution. You feel tired and down, he will take some of your burden and try to cheer you up.” She sighs softly. “Oftentimes, so many women have been conditioned to be strong, independent, so they view that as misogyny or finding them helpless. It’s insulting to them and they resent him for it.”

“They don’t understand that offering care is his way of being supportive. It’s not that he doesn’t think they can do it themselves, it’s that he views being helpful as a romantic gesture as much as anything else.” You nod, understanding that entirely. “I think the hardest part for Marcus and me right now is that we’re both like that a lot of the time. Which means we’re constantly doing little fixes or giving little gifts or making little gestures. We’re still finding the balance.”

“That makes me feel better.” She admits with a smile. “You understand his need in doing it.”

“He wants me to know I don’t have to do it alone,” you acknowledge, offering her a smile as you walk. “And I want to make sure he knows the same.”

“You two truly are soulmates.” She chuckles. “And I have never been more happy to say those words.”

“Just as happy as I am to hear them, I promise you.” Stopping in your steady tracks, you touch her arm gently and offer her a slightly more serious look. “A lot of people interpreted the things I said on the campaign trail to mean that I’m against soulmates, but I’m absolutely not. I just don’t think anyone should be discriminated against for who they love. Anyone, and unfortunately a lot of people still believe only soulmates should be able to get married.”

“Those people…in my most professional opinion…” Donna snorts. “Are assholes.”

“Agreed.” You nod your head but Selena snorts at her aunts phrasing as the three of you start walking again.

“Do you have any specific plans while you are here?” Donna asks, curious if you had wanted to spend the entire time at the compound.

“I want to see whatever Marcus wants to show me.” It seems like an easy answer, but honestly you’re just here to meet his family and spent time with your soulmate. Anything more is a bonus. “Or anything you guys have in mind. I just…” you shrug in admission. “I never take vacations. So I’m reminding myself not to worry about work and trying to relax.”

“A workaholic.” She smirks slightly. “Something I’m very well-versed in.” She teases.

"Can't exactly stop yourself from taking work home with you when you live at work," you admit with a grin.

“As long as it’s work you love, I don’t see a problem with it.” Donna tells you.

"I really do." They already know that, of course, from how much and how proudly you talk about the inn. But still, you're beaming. "Marcus suggested we look at building our house on the property since I already own it, and I think it's only going to be a little while before we start in on that plan."

Building something together is something that Donna highly approves of. She nods. “Word of advice?” She offers with a smirk. “Have a general contractor negotiate any and all disagreements.”

"Noted," you agree instantly, knowing that Marcus's parents have a whole lifetime of experience in this particular area.

“It will solve a lot of arguments.” She rolls her eyes and laughs. “Over tile size!”

When Selena snorts out a laugh you have to suppose it's a family joke or at least and a family story, and you laugh too. "It's always something small, isn't it?"

“Yep.” She shakes her head and laughs. “One fight was about if the dishwasher should be on the left or right side of the sink.” She huffs. “Matthew rarely loaded the dishwasher, but thought that it continuously unfair to live in a right handed world as a leftie.” She rolls her eyes again, although it’s more amusement than annoyance.

Small things always seem large when they're under the microscope, and you can see how those things could get out of hand. But fortunately, from what you and Marcus have talked about so far, you're mostly on the same page right from the start. "I can see us tussling over little things pretty easily, but I think it will all turn out pretty well in the end. It's definitely a solid way to work through our skills in compromise and communication, though."

“Marcus knows how to communicate.” She promises. “He’s good at it, and if he’s not, I’ll give you free sessions.” She jokes, knowing the last thing any couple would want is to have an in-law involved.

"You'll be glad to hear that I have an excellent therapist to help me handle stressors and any manner of other unexpected event in my life that I need extra help in processing." The importance of simply having an impartial third party is not lost on you, but having a professionally trained and educated one is all the more important when possible stressors could include death threats sent to your family members.

“Very glad.” She nods and reaches out to pat your hand gently. “You are under a lot of pressure. That is obvious.”

"When we get back I have a meeting at the White House." Though you shudder for dramatic emphasis, it is unnerving. Those meetings about social outreach and the image of the First Family had gone well for Junie and Alex but since you're fairly certain what your mother will ask of you, you're dreading it.

“If you ever want to talk, just to vent, you can call me.” Donna offers softly. “Not in a professional capacity, although anything you say would be kept between us.”

"I really appreciate that." It's not something she has to offer. Not at all. But you're so grateful that your soulmate's parents have so far turned out to be wonderful people.

“Of course.” You might not take her up on the offer, but she wanted to extend it.

"And I hope you know you're always welcome in DC. Anytime, no hesitations." You swing back to grin at Selena on your other side. "You too. We could use another partner in crime."

“I am absolutely going to come visit.” Donna promised, and Selena nods eagerly. “Me too! I want to see this inn.”

"If you want to come and stay there, I'll have a word with the owner," you joke, and throw in a wink.

“And the food.” Donna insists. “Marcus has raved about your best friend, Sydney.”

"She's an absolute goddess." You promise them both. Building up your friends and loved ones is always easy for you. "Just the most talented chef you could possibly imagine. And an amazing person, to boot."

“She has to be.” Selena isn’t joking this time. “Marcus doesn’t waste time on people who aren’t amazing.” Now she gives a small, preening grin. “Which is why he loves me so much.” She jokes.

“I know what it is.” After about one full day of hanging out with Selena, you’ve narrowed down why it is that you are so comfortable with her, and it makes you laugh endlessly. “You’re exactly halfway between my best friend and my brother. Who are two of my top three favourite people in the world, despite the crap I give my little brother on a daily basis.”

“That sounds like a high compliment if I’ve ever heard one.” She laughs. “I’m the little sister Marcus never wished he had.”

“He loves all of you like siblings.” Even if he hadn’t said so explicitly, it’s easy to tell.

“We grew up together.” She agrees. “Even if we lived apart, summers together were important. Holidays spent driving each other and our parents crazy.” There’s a fond smile on her face. “Hopefully our kids will experience the same things.”

“I hope so, too.” The idea head settled into your bones and made you sunny with daydreams. “My siblings’ kids, too. The biggest family we can possibly make for them, since we never had any cousins growing up.”

“Pikes tend to assimilate the families that join them.” Donna shoots you a grin. “They are like the Borg.”

“That’s how we collected friends when I was a kid,” you laugh. The Pikes are definitely not like the Borg — they all feel far too much for that and you adore it. “Make friends with one of the three of us and suddenly you were just another family member.”

“That sounds familiar.” Selena snorts. “We love having people around. The more the merrier.”

“Absolutely.” The morning sun has hit the top of the sky but it’s not too hot, just making you stop warding off the crisp breeze as it disappears into a mellow midday.

“If you don’t mind me asking…” Selena hesitates. “There was some talk about you dating a Congressman?”

There it is. You were wondering how long it would take someone to ask the very fair question. At least it’s Selena and not Cousin Terry’s wife Hannah who seems to distrust you purely for being the daughter of a politician. Which…is also fair…just not a stereotype that applies to you personally. “I was. For almost a year. I was still seeing him when Marcus and I met, but…” you shrug your shoulders a little, with honesty in the sheepishness. “I fell in love with Marcus so fast, and so deeply. Even if he hadn’t turned out to be my soulmate, I still would have ended things with my ex.”

“I didn’t want to pry, I just hadn’t seen anything about a break up and wanted to know if you were ‘public’ yet.” Selena reassures you. “There’s already been a message in the family chat about not posting while we are here on social media. So we don’t potentially ‘out’ your relationship.”

“It will be out by Easter.” Breathing a sigh of relief isn’t subtle, so you swallow it down and simply tighten your smile into an affirmative. “He’s coming to the Easter Egg Roll at the White House with me. After that, just…try to be conscious of people asking about family photos? If you’ve got ones with Marcus and me in them, we’ll just ask everyone to keep them private. You know, friends only.”

“We are used to that.” She nods and sends you a smile. “We’ve got your back. Don’t worry. No one here is going to judge you. Besides Hannah.” She snorts. “And let’s be honest, she’s a bitch.” Donna chokes out a laugh, quickly smothered, and swats at Selena’s butt from behind you. “Selena!” She scolds, obviously still trying not to laugh.

“Oh.” This time the relief whooshes out of you, but you end up laughing. “So it’s not just me?”

“Hannah is…the least comfortable with the easy, familial closeness of our family.” Donna snorts. “When she first started coming, there was an…accusation.” She hums delicately.

“What could poss—” As soon as your mind spins on it for long enough to actually ask the question, your mouth falls open in horror. “Oh my god! That’s—obviously, obviously I don’t think that. Please know that I have never ever thought that.”

“You don’t think I’m sleeping with Terry?” Selena snorts. “Thank God!”

“No, I definitely do not think you’re sleeping with your first cousin,” you laugh but still shudder.

“Apparently, Hannah doesn’t believe men and women can be friends. Not even relatives.” Selena shrugs. “So if it seems like all the female cousins keep their distance from Terry, it’s not because he’s a pervert. He’s actually amazing. His soulmate is just fucking nuts.”

“Got it.” Even though you flash a thumbs up in acknowledgment, all you can think of is how glad you are that Marcus didn’t stay with Vanessa. She would have hated this for the exact same reason. Probably been Hannah’s only ally.

“Hannah isn’t all bad.” Donna adds, trying to soften it some. “Just….a little…set in her ways. But honestly, this is the only time of year they come. They rarely join other holidays.” She looks over at you. “And pleased don’t think that we expect you to come for every holiday, but we will invite you.”

“We’ll come as often as we can.” You can promise that easily, though you know sometimes he’ll have to work and you’ll have to be at official events with your family. “It…will be easier once my mother is out of office.”

“I understand.” Donna is well aware of the demands of public figures. She had to be seen at a certain number of games and it was her own personal mission to attend the post seasons games any time Matthews’s teams made it. “Just know that we want what is best for you.”

“And that is so much more appreciated than you could know.” Maybe she does. Maybe she understands every bit of it. But because you appreciate the honesty of the words from your soulmate’s mother so much more than you expected to, you leave the phrasing as it is. No stumbling or correcting.

Donna winks at you and links her arm through yours. “You and I are going to be good friends.” She predicts with a happy smile. Marcus is over the moon in love with you and from what she could see, you are much the same. There is nothing more than Donna could ever wish for her baby, to find a smart, loving, good person – and you fit that bill perfectly.

Most of the day is spent in the massive pool down by the bunkhouse, with a little day drinking and a whole lot of horsing around and even a little heckling when some of the cousins got into a competition over best diving form — which quickly degraded into silliest dive. Now it’s sunset, and you’ve thrown a shirt and shorts over your dried out swimsuit for Marcus’s surprise.

“Hey babe.” Marcus finds you again, smiling at the relaxed smile on your face and he hands you a new drink. “You look like you’ve had a good time.”

"Well howdy stranger!" A slight affectation in your voice is just to make him laugh, and you grin when it succeeds. "Where have you been all day? Did you have fun with your Dad?" Matthew Pike had disappeared after breakfast along with his son, and when you had remarked on it to Donna during your walk, she had just said not to worry.

“Of course.” He grins, unable to stop himself as he moves over to caress your neck. “I was taking care of a few things for tonight. Why? Did you miss me?”

"Every second." And you don't care who knows it either. You sit up in your chair and stretch a little more to kiss him, catching the fresh scent of the bodywash he favors as it mixes with his bergamot and musk cologne. He's fresh and clean and it makes you wonder what he's been up to as much as it makes you want to drag him up to his bedroom.

“Good.” He smirks against your lips and offers you his hand as he steps out of your sphere. “Come on.”

"Ooo, is it surprise time?" The look of delight on your face is undisguised as you readily take his hand to pop up from your seat. "I'm all yours."

“Yes you are.” He beams about that fact as he pulls you closer. “Say goodnight to everyone, Birdie.” He hums quietly. “We probably won’t see them again tonight.”

"Good night everybody!" You wave immediately, wrapping your arm around Marcus's waist and barely sparing a backward glance in favor of grinning up at him.

“Damn.” He whistles as he guides you away from the pool and over to the truck. He’s already talked to agent Bailey and cleared things with her, so he just nods as the two of you pass by.

“Damn what?” You pose, laughing a little as you wonder if he’s amused at how quickly you’re ready to leave just about anyone behind to spend time with him.

“I could be a kidnapper and you would just go willingly.” He teases, reaching out and tugging on your ear gently.

“You’d be the best looking kidnapper around and Agent Bailey would have a hell of a time bringing me home,” you tease, hopping into the pickup when he opens the passenger door for you.

“Yep, you have Stockholm Syndrome.” He teases, leaning in to steal one more kiss before he closes the door and hurries around the hood.

Once he’s back in the cab beside you, you flash him a grin. “Belle got a library, I got the softest dom in the whole world and awesome in-laws. I’m okay with it.”

“Softest dom?” He snorts, tilting his head while he tries, and fails to look offended. “I’m a hard dom.” He protests.

"How hard you fuck me when we get going is not what I mean," you clarify, settling into the corner of the seat as he starts to drive the two of you across the compound. "You have the softest heart in the world and I feel very lucky to be the one you've decided to give it to."

“I know.” He promises. “I was teasing. I want you to be happy, healthy and loved. That’s all I want.”

"I am. All three, absolutely." Leaning against his shoulder on the drive, you hum slightly and end up sounding a little sheepish as you look out the window. "I missed you today. Even though we weren't apart too long."

He chuckles slightly and lifts your hand to press a kiss to your knuckles and scrapes his teeth over the delicate skin. “I’ll show you how hard of a dom I am.” He teases. “I’ll put a collar on you.”

Not expected that reaction from him, you make a remarkably incoherent noise of interest and surprise before turning your head to look at him. "Don't tempt me with a good time, Pike."

He had been joking, but the way you react has him pausing. “Is that something you’re interested in?” He keeps the question casual, not wanting to seem like he’s pushing or judging, he’s doing neither.

"I always thought it sounded kind of sexy," you admit, wondering if he was just joking and not serious at all. "I mean it's not like...like something mandatory for me to be happy in a relationship, obviously. If--if you're not into that and at all and you were just joking—"

“Baby.” Marcus squeezes your hand. “Anything you are interested in is something we can talk about. If it’s an absolute no, then I’ll explain why. But I think it sounds kind of sexy too. Collars don’t have to be spiked dog collars where I pull you around on a leash and make you bark.” He snorts.

"A lot of day collars just look like cute little necklaces." Alright, you may or may not have done a little looking into it a few years ago with the guy you were seeing at the time. He was long gone now, but the idea had remained in your head. It was not something Sam would have gone for so it had never been brought up to him.

His brow ticks up, noting your interests and he hums. “They do.” He agrees. “Something sexy about being claimed, isn’t there?”

"Absolutely." He turns left at a pair of apple trees on the western part of the compound and keeps going, while you continue to snuggle next to him like a contented house cat. "I mean...I'm wearing a Pike family nametag. That's about as claimed as it gets."

“Not quite.” Marcus chuckles. “There’s definitely more claiming that can be done.”

"Is that a promise?" You tease, grin growing a little wider when he turns toward a tree line up ahead.

“Absolutely.” He follows the less worn paths through the trees, although it’s obvious from the tire marks through the grass road that someone has been there recently.

"So can I have a hint about where we're going?" This isn't a part of the property that you've been to yet and it's beautifully woodsy in a distinctly Southwestern way that you're finding fantastic.

“You’ll see.” The tree line gives way to clearing and Marcus smiles as the pond comes into view. “Right now.”

The little clearing in the trees is picture perfect. It looks more like a movie set than real life, the tree-lined pond ringed with fairy lights sitting side-by-side with a red and white checked gingham blanket and large picnic basket, and a small cooler to boot. "Baby," you sigh out the endearment excitedly. He knows you love surprises -- your family told him so -- but you weren't expecting anything. That, of course, it was makes surprises so wonderful.

“Now you know what I’ve been doing all day.” He tells you as the truck pulls to a stop close to the picnic sight. “Wanted to make this perfect.”

"It's gorgeous!" You breathe, practically squeaking with excitement as you turn to snuggle into his side as soon as he parks the truck. "Is this your old make out spot? Because if it is? It's an awesome choice."

“Maybe a few times?” Marcus shrugs his shoulders and gives you a boyish grin. “Not too many times.”

"Could make it one more." The exaggerated wink you aim at him makes both of you laugh. "If you wanted to, I mean."

“That was my evil plan.” Marcus admits without any remorse. “Bring you out here, woo you, make out with you.”

"Pretty good plan." Right about now he could undo your seatbelt and haul you into his lap in the truck and you wouldn't protest even for a second. "It's absolutely gorgeous, baby."

“Wanted to give you a special night.” He’s explains, unlatching his seatbelt so he can open the door and walk around to help you out.

“Every night with you is special.” As soon as you’re out of the truck you press in to kiss him, enjoying the lingering warmth of the early evening.

“So you’d rather go have dinner with everyone else than have a romantic picnic by the pond?” Marcus asks, reaching for the door handle. “We can go back…”

“Ohhhhh no.” You shake your head immediately. “We’re staying right here. In our perfect little oasis.”

“I thought you would say that.” Marcus chuckles as he takes your hand to guide you over to the blanket. “I brought wine, but we don’t have to drink anything stronger than lemonade.”

“Wine sounds nice.” You’ve been moderate in your drinking today, having two cups of water for every alcoholic beverage and making sure to eat, so you’re not worried about being too inebriated. “And very romantic, but I don’t ever doubt that from you.”

“Well. I know that it might not be the fanciest, but I wanted to make an effort.” He grins at your praise and both of you sit down on the checkered spread.

“You’re perfect level of fancy for me.” Once you sit down here starts to unpack things, and you fidget slightly on the blanket. “But…Speaking of…of that? I wondered if I could talk to you about an idea that I had.” The actual thought has been rolling around in your head for a while for uncomfortable reasons, but now that it’s Marcus it’s actually a nice thing you don’t mind dreaming about a little.

“Speaking of fancy….” He chuckles. “Alright. I’ll pour out the wine. You pitch me your idea and we will strategize.” He jokes as he opens the top to the wicker basket and produces two, picnic friendly wine glasses and sets them down to retrieve the wine from the cooler.

“Unless you had something else you wanted to talk about?” Maybe that’s what this beautiful picnic is and you’ve usurped the purpose of the night by jumping the gun, you can’t be sure.

“I’m wanting to talk about whatever you want, my love.” He promises as he uses the corkscrew to open the bottle.

“Very accommodating of you.” But that’s Marcus and you know it. Instead you focus on opening up the containers he’s packed away that are holding your dinner. “Do you remember I told you that my mother wants the three of us kids to all do…sort of…family publicity type stuff? Like Junie getting a dog and being willing to be public about it?”

“Yes.” He nods and pours out the wine into each glass. “You didn’t sound terribly enthusiastic about it, although you tried to put on a good front.”

“I’m not terribly enthusiastic about it.” You can admit that, especially to him. “Which is why I’m not sure if this idea is selfish or not.”

“Honey….” Marcus hands you the wine and takes the container with the cheese from you to open. “You are not a politician, you don’t seek the spotlight. Sharing yourself with the public in a way you need isn’t selfish.” He’s pretty much guessed that it has to be some idea about your relationship, and he’s okay with that.

“It’s selfish because it’s something I’m asking you to do with me.” The wine glass is cold in your hand, a soothing and grounding change from the warm day. Although now that the sun’s down it will be cool sooner rather than later. “Because I’m more comfortable and more confident with you beside me in that spotlight.”

“Whatever you need.” Marcus promises. “Undercover work was never exactly fun for me, and I’m out as a UA now that the picture of us dancing was posted in the papers.”

“I feel like I ought to apologize.” The wine he chose is fruity and dry, much more complex than you would but for yourself despite his claim that it’s not fancy.

“No, sweetheart, please don’t.” Marcus shakes his head. “I was aware pictures would be taken. It was my own choice. And I don’t regret it for a second.”

“I didn’t know art crimes required undercover work. Though I suppose it makes perfect sense now that I think about it.” And you’re definitely stalling, but you push it further by assembling a charcuterie bite from the containers around you.

“It’s rare, but I only took the last assignment where I went undercover was because I needed to get away after things ended with Teresa.” He explains.

"Well, you'll have nothing like that reason ever again." The idea of Marcus with a broken heart is too much to stomach, and the coping mechanism of assembling the perfect charcuterie bite for him now pushing the thought out of your mind.

“I know.” It’s freeing to know that you two are very much in the same pages. Despite the fact that being soulmates does guarantee happiness, you and him will do everything to make sure that your story is a good one.

"So...the thing I wanted to talk to you about..." Enough stalling. Time to be an adult. "Is not because I want to push you, or rush you, or anything like that. But...because I keep thinking about it and thinking that getting ahead of the curve is the only way to really control it, and controlling it will be so much less stressful and make half as much work in the long run."

You’re cute when you’re flustered, Marcus leans back on the blanket, completely relaxed as he takes a sip of his wine. “So are we talking televised wedding? Or just pictures?” He asks.

"We are not broadcasting the wedding." That's the point at which you draw the line, you already know that. It's too much. Too invasive even for a family in the public eye. "I was thinking more like...letting photos be released along the way. Like sharing engagement photos, or photos of dresses that I don't pick. Things like that?"

“I’m perfectly fine with that.” It’s an easy agreement, one that has him lifting a brow. “That was all?”

"Even if that includes sharing photos of your bachelor party or sitting down with a reporter yourself?" The fact that he's willing to agree to it so easily is utterly shocking to you, and you feel like you have to do your due diligence and double check. "Or even share part of the proposal?"

“Whatever you feel comfortable with.” Marcus agrees. “It’s like the family days at the parks or when mom and dad would have interviews.”

Sometimes you really do forget that he already has a frame of reference for all of this. That he understands being a family in the spotlight. You take a sip of your wine and build him another bite from the charcuterie containers, offering it to him with a grateful smile. "I love you. Completely. I really hope you know how grateful I am for you."

“Why don’t we plan to have photos released from our engagement, you and I can sit down with a reporter about the expectations of soulmates and politics. There can be a website for all this with links to charities or causes that you want to champion or bring to light?”

"I don't understand how you get even more perfect." When he takes the cracker from your hand you run a finger under his jaw and end up feeling heat in your cheeks all over again. "When we get back I'll talk to Mom and whoever from her team is supposed to be coordinating my media stuff. And..." That same hand of yours squeezes his knee gently. "This is not me trying to rush you into anything. I'm sure we'll get enthusiastic and rush all on our own."

“Us?” He feigns surprise and smirks slightly. “Maybe we will, maybe we will surprise ourselves.” He turns and kisses the palm of your hand. “But I doubt it.”

"I doubt it, too." It's a kiss from his lips that you want most, and lean forward to steal it without shame. "But I love that we're on the same page so easily."

“So after that birthday….um, debacle…” he makes a face. “Are you totally opposed to the idea of a surprise proposal or what?”

"As long as it's you proposing, a surprise is fine." Debacle is the right word, and you roll your eyes slightly. "I actually do love surprises. Mom told you that."

“You might have changed your mind.” The sun is setting and right on cue, the fairy lights that he had spent the majority of the day stringing around the pond come on.

The way you coo at the change in lighting is full of delight, and you lean into his side on the blanket with nothing short of delight on your face. "See this is why I love surprises. For things like this."

“I was hoping you would like it.” Marcus grins as you stare in loving awe of the lights as they play off the water and the sunset.

"You know...the back of the property at the inn has a little pond like this." You lean back against him and enjoy the view around you. "There's nothing around it really, so I haven't thought about putting a garden there or anything. But...it could be in the backyard of our house if we wanted it to."

“I think we could do that.” Marcus smirks and reaches out to touch the rim of his glass against yours. “Our own little escape.”

"And it's far enough back from the inn to soothe your very sweet concern over historically matching buildings." Which you love, but you don't want him to get so hung up on it that he ends up sacrificing another aspect of the house he might truly love.

“You have something else in mind?” He asks, wondering if you want something different for how you raise your children and where you live.

"I don't really know a hell of a lot about architectural styles," you admit. "I just don't want us to miss out on our dream house because we got stuck on making the buildings match. We can set our house back enough that it will have its own space."

“Any house that has you and our family in it is my dream house.” He promises, smiling at you happily.

"I love you, too." In a way that makes you feel like your heart is going to swell right out of your chest, but in the absolute best possible way.

“I know you do.” Marcus murmurs softly, wondering how he got so lucky with you. “I am a lucky man.”

Leaning back lets you kiss him, just a soft thing but tender and full of desire and promise before you pull back and smile at him softly. "I guess we're both lucky, then."

“Oh!” Marcus pulls out his phone, forgetting that he had programmed it and opens it up to the music app to start playing music. “Forgot that part.” He huffs. “Too eager to pour wine.”

You know even on the first song that it's a playlist of love songs. There is nothing more supremely on point for Marcus than a night like this, with all of the magic that he's infused into this beautiful little dinner. "I don't know how, but you keep making it better every second."

“That’s high praise.” He hums, putting together a bite for you and holding it out for you to eat. “I’ve enjoyed having you to spoil.”

“And you’re about the only person in the world I’ll ever let do it.” The admission comes with a laugh, and you place another soft kiss on his cheek. “Thank you for suggesting this trip, love.”

“I’m glad you got to come.” He admits with a smile as you take the offered bite and groan at the taste. “I know it was hard to take off last minute and I appreciate it. Next time we will have it planned better.”

“It’s less that it’s hard and more that I get very determined about being hands on,” you admit. “Malachi can run that place in his sleep during the day, and my managers are great. I just…always worry.”

“It’s your baby.” Marcus acknowledges easily. “It’s like a case for me. My team is incredibly proficient at their jobs, but if there is a stake out or some kind of op to be run, I like being there.”

“I’m grateful you understand.” Others hadn’t, and so the fact that Marcus is supportive of your need for work as well as your need for a family is very much appreciated. “And Sydney was joking about sending care packages to your stake outs if you wanted them, so I think your team is about to be very happy, too.”

“If she did, she would become an unofficial member of the team.” Marcus snorts. “They wouldn’t be happy with pizza anymore.”

“I’d have even more FBI agents on my doorstep,” you giggle at the image. “There’s already three of you, we’ll need to designate a dining room or something.”

“The Fed Room.” Marcus snorts, grinning at the idea. “It would never be empty.”

“Syd may have thrown a tiny bit of a fit when I told her I don’t want her to cater any of our wedding stuff,” you admit, cringing slightly as Marcus starts to open another round of containers from the picnic basket. “But she’s my best friend and will be my maid of honor. I want her there by my side, not stuck in the kitchen.”

“How about she can cater the engagement party?” Marcus suggests. “That way she’s involved but it’s not taking over her enjoying your wedding day.”

“I wasn’t even thinking about an engagement party.” The compromise makes you turn up your chin to look at him with wide, starry eyes. “It’s perfect. Just like you, love.”

“We have to have a party.” Marcus teases, kissing your nose. “The press can have the story of my proposal and the engagement party. That’s also a good way to keep our actual engagement to ourselves.”

“I’m so fucking glad you’re with me on this.” The honest laugh is stifled but full of relief as you lounge with him in the blanket. “I would never think of any of this and I’d just end up stressed out or going along with whatever anybody else planned to avoid having to think about it.”

“I will fix anything you ever ask me to.” Marcus promises. “But if you ever don’t like something, you never have to worry about me being upset by that.”

“And the same goes for you,” you promise him, with the same measure of seriousness in your eyes and honesty in your voice. “I hope you know that.”

“I know.” He picks up a grape to pop into his mouth. “You and I are very communicative.”

“I feel like I should apologize.” Your voice lowers slightly, the unsureness seeping through it.

“Why?” Marcus frowns slightly, not liking that comment at all. You have nothing to apologize for. He loves that the two of you are talking and planning your lives together.

“Past relationships…have not been as okay with my tendency to talk everything out at length.” It’s not something that you really ever planned on bringing up, since Marcus likes to dream and plan and plot like you do. But maybe it’s good that he knows, since it has slipped out without you meaning to. “I always felt like I was bothering them with it. And ended up apologizing a lot.”

He frowns even more, reaching out after he sets down to his wine glass and pulls you close. “Sweetheart, I want to talk things out. Even if it’s as mundane as brunch locations or if the entryway table should be moved.” He promises. “Please never feel like you should apologize. I want to hear everything you have to say.”

“You might regret saying that when I get going about the logistics of booking rooms for large parties.” It’s a decent attempt at a joke, even if it’s wry, and you lean into Marcus’s comforting warmth with a sigh. “I’m still getting used to the idea that you are as straight forward and wholeheartedly enthusiastic about this entire relationship as I am. It seems surreal but it’s too wonderful to be a dream, so I’m just doing my best to process the whole thing.”

“You process however you need to.” He kisses your forehead. “I’ll be right here to reassure you again. You’re my partner, my lover, and my friend.” He murmurs. “The most important person in the universe to me.”

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo @madnessofadaydreamer

HHL: @haileymorelikestupid @anoverwhelmingdin @storiesofthefandomlovers @missladym1981 @babeincolor @angelofsmalldeath-codeine

My Masterlist!

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Marcus Pike #Marcus Pike x you #Marcus Pike x reader #Marcus Pike x female reader #Marcus Pike x f!reader #The Mentalist #soulmate au #First Daughter reader #Juan Badillo #Graceland #Juan Badillo x f!OC #Juan Badillo x OC #love triangle

101 notes · View notes

am-i-the-asshole-official · 6 months

Note

AITA for being upset at how my former friends treated me?

tw: suicide and animal death

So for some context this was a very close knit friendgroup, for several years, of about 10 people, including me and my then partner. Also, everyone here is an adult.

Basically, one day I was in a really really bad place mentally. A beloved family pet was going to be put down soon, this dog had been a part of my life for almost half my life, and I was inconsolable and struggling to cope with this. During a discussion about some random interest I got too mean/harsh about it and it turned into an argument.

I know this was not justified and my grief wasn't an excuse, and I knew it then too and apologized to the people involved, and was met with overwhelming support, I was told "it's ok, we understand you're going through a rough thing right now, we're here to support you and you'll always have a place in this group"

Then my partner messaged me. They had not been part of the discussion at all, but they told me they felt hurt and wanted us to take a break. However, I misinterpreted that as a break up (combination of language barrier and me already being in shambles. This miscommunication is not something my ex can be blamed for)

This was an extremely serious relationship, we had been together for 2 years at that point and had a lot of future plans and such, so that on top of already grieving made me have a mental breakdown.

So, I vented on my personal tumblr. My vents did not mention/vague/allude to the situation at all, they amounted to "I feel terrible I can't do this anymore" and could very well have been only about my dog, or just about my depression in general. I also should point out that my ex doesn't use tumblr at all, so I didn't think he'd ever see those vents, and I certainly didn't want him to. And I also would not have reacted like that if I had known it was a temporary break. I know I still shouldn't have vented on a public blog, and it was hurtful no matter what. I wasn't thinking clearly at the time.

The next day, after our dog was put down, I sought support from my friends, but was suddenly met with "we're not impressed with how you've acted, get therapy, bye" and was kicked from the group. Several of them blocked me everywhere instantly.

Unbeknownst to me, someone had sent my vents to my ex and they had shown them to the others, and they'd drawn the conclusion that I was upset about a temporary break and was venting to try to guilt my ex into getting back with me. And not a single one of them brought this up to me. Again, we'd all been friends for several years at that point and this was literally the day after telling me I'd always be a part of the group and they were here for me. I couldn't even defend myself because no one would tell me anything, I asked many times but was told "you know what you did" even though I clearly didn't. I thought they'd all changed their minds about the previous day out of nowhere, or that this was because of (what I thought was) the breakup. I only learned what they actually thought much later. Oh, and my ex told me I needed therapy and he never wanted anything to do with me again (which is when I learned I'd been wrong about the breakup).

Again, I know me venting was harmful no matter what, so in that regard I am the asshole, but I still feel like there's a difference between what I did and deliberate manipulation, and surely people I'd been friends with for years could have spoken to me before assuming things?

So at that point I'd lost a beloved pet, my partner, and most of my close friends, within a day. So at that point I tried but failed to commit suicide, and was hospitalized.

While in the hospital, I didn't get a single word from any of my friends, except for one person. Supposedly, everyone had been "worried out of their minds" when they saw my suicide note. But not worried enough for a single word.

Even the one person who talked to me got extremely defensive and angry if I so much as implied I felt hurt by the group's actions. They even tried to hold it over my head how "despite everything you did X and Y were super worried about you" as if being worried about someone comitting suicide is some kind of heroic saint.

I asked to be allowed to talk things out with them, but was told "the others aren't comfortable associating with you", so I had to write a fucking google doc letter. I explained the situation from my perspective, apologized for my actions etc, but also made it clear that I felt hurt and didn't think their reaction was justified and that they should have at least talked to me first, and that I was very open to talking things out in person if any of them wanted to get back to me.

None of them did. Apparently they were writing a formal collective response letter to me. At which point I had enough of the silent treatment and said that if any of them had anything to say to me they could do so in person. Which made the group extremely angry because I was "silencing" them.

About three people got back to me, and all of their responses amounted to "we don't owe you an apology, our actions were justified because we thought you'd done something bad and we were just trying to protect [my ex] and the fact that you're upset about it proves you are bad" one of them compared me to their abuser.

They also said they'd been "having issues with my behavior for a long time now", I wish I could elaborate here in case it'd impact judgement, but I can't because none of them specified, and NOTHING of the sort had been brought up to me previously.

So. Again, I know I am the asshole to some extent, because regardless of my mindset me venting on my tumblr was still harmful, but I also feel like I was treated unfairly and cruelly by my former friends. AITA here?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole #suicide cw

147 notes · View notes

cillianmesoftlyyy · 4 months

Text

The Ward Pt. 3 | Jonathan Breech x fem!character

Summary: Jonathan Breech is sentenced to three months in a Dublin psych ward after trying to take his life. He meets a girl and thinks he's fallen in love... but is this just a product of opportunity and loneliness or could it be more?

Warnings: Based heavily on One the Edge (2001) so there is already a lot of mental-health specific discussions. More specifically- mentions of suicide, self-harm, death, depression, anxiety, feeling helpless and alone, medication, vomiting, pregnancy. Pt. 3 has smut: unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), and loss of virginity. Please don't read if you think any of the previously mentioned topics could be triggering! Some of this is taken from my personal experience with mental-health issues so read with care.

word count: 3790k

Pretty- Coco & Clair Clair 🎶

Narc- Interpol 🎵

Note- One the Edge is free on Internet Archive...

Please read the warnings before continuing, thanks!

After group therapy, Jonathan walked into the men’s bathroom on the women’s ward and stood just inside as the door swung closed quietly. Margaret was sitting on the ledge as she had a day or two before, reading. She looked up as he entered and closed her book.

“Was I really your first real kiss?” He asked and she scoffed in surprise.

“What?”

“Was I really your first kiss?” He asked again and Margaret stared at him before answering, a blush already forming on her cheeks.

“Yeah…”

“How was it?”

“You were there, remember?” She put her book aside and put her palms against her face to cool them. She looked at the wall, too embarrassed to look at him.

“Pretend I wasn’t.” He smiled and she rolled her eyes, “tell me how it was.”

“It was good, I don’t know.” She laughed uncomfortably and he smiled wider.

“Tell me how you felt when you kissed me,” he prompted and she shook her head in uncomfortable disbelief.

“Well, um I felt happy and good like I didn’t want to stop. I liked looking at you and I liked feeling close to you.” She answered. “Is that what you meant?” She furrowed her eyebrows and Jonathan nodded.

“You liked kissing me and I liked kissing you. I don’t think this is just a relationship of convenience, I think we could really like each other.”

“Here we go,” she jumped off of the ledge and landed beside Jonathan who had one hand resting against the handicapped stall.

“Just hear me out! I thought about what you said and I think I really do like you. I like talking to you and I think we understand each other really well.” He explained and she laughed softly.

“We both tried to kill ourselves, of course we understand each other.”

“But see, that's the thing. We understand each other better than other people would. You said that there are plenty of attractive girls out there but what makes you so sure that I would choose anyone else if I could choose you?” He waved his other hand as he spoke. She had started to walk away when she turned back and went up to him, talking low.

“Because even though we kissed and we may like each other, we don’t know each other at all. I’m some girl from America who happened to take too many pills to kill herself and it didn’t work. In any other situation, you would have walked past me on the street and gone for someone else.” She started to get upset and he looked down at her from against the wall. “I’m not interesting or beautiful or that smart, I’m just depressed and lonely and that makes me easy to love when you have nothing else to do.” Jonathan inhaled quickly.

“I don’t agree with you at all. I think you’re interesting and so beautiful that it distracts me during group therapy. Even though I’ve only been here for about a week, I feel that I have a pretty good idea of who you are and what you mean to me and my happiness, and you mean a lot.”

“But what if I can’t make you happy?” She interjected, angry tears filling her eyes. “Not everything can be solved by sex and love, Jonathan. We’re unstable and could kill ourselves at any time. You can’t trust me and I don’t trust you,” she whispered and started to turn when he reached for her.

“Margaret, I love you.”

“Don’t say that when you don’t mean it!” She nearly screamed, hitting his chest with her hands. She started crying as she hit him weakly. He watched her, his jaw clenched. “Don’t call me cute or beautiful or anything else when you don’t fucking mean it!” She cried and pushed herself away from him. Her nose was runny and she wiped it on the sleeve of her green jumper. Her hair was messy and some of it stood up. She took a deep breath and looked back at him, caught in the beauty of his eyes. “We lie all the time. We lie about how we feel and about how sad we are so that others feel better about themselves. We can’t lie to each other, not here. So, don’t lie to me, please. I’m sick of lies, Jonathan.” She whispered sadly and Jonathan closed the distance between them and held her. She didn’t resist and hugged him around his waist, putting her face in the crook of his neck. He kissed the top of her head and smoothed down her messy hair. She cried quietly against him and he waited patiently, holding her closer.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered against her cheek, “I won’t lie to you, I promise. I’m so sorry.” He promised, though he hadn’t been lying. “I shouldn’t have sprung that all on you but I wasn’t lying, Margaret. What I said was true. I won’t force you to believe me but I promise that I was telling you the truth.”

She stopped crying slowly and took in a shakily breath. He rubbed her back, feeling the warmth of her body through her clothes.

“What if I don’t feel the same way? What if I hate you?” She whispered and Jonathan looked up at the ceiling tiles. He knew that it was a possibility and he was prepared to accept it. He put his chin on top of her head and exhaled slowly.

“Do you?” he asked, “Do you hate me?”

Margaret thought for a moment and shook her head against his chest, “no.” Jonathan sighed in relief and pulled her even closer, kissing her head. She gripped his shirt gently in her hands, her fists clenched against his back. After a few minutes she pulled away and went to the sink where she splashed cold water on her face. She rubbed cold water over the back of her neck and took a paper towel from the dispenser on the wall, wiping the water away. He watched her with a sense of wanting, wishing that he could touch her face how she was now. He crossed his arms over his chest and rested on one hip, jutting the other out. He sucked on his bottom lip and leaned his head back against the yellow tile of the outdated bathroom. He built up the nerve and left the wall, standing beside her at the sink. He took the paper towel from her hands and wiped the skin beneath her jaw and below her collar. He kissed each place after he wiped it and she closed her eyes, breathing softly through her parted lips. Then he kissed her and she brought her hands to his neck, tracing the lines of tendons in his neck. He pulled away and threw the paper towel into the trash.

“You’ll be ok?” He asked and she smiled softly from the sink.

“Yeah. You?” She asked and he nodded.

“Yeah,” he smiled back and left the bathroom. He smiled to himself as he went back to his room. He sat on his bed as the sun set, his hands clasped around the back of his neck. He sat like that for what felt like hours. He rubbed his eyes and kicked off his shoes, realizing how long he had been sitting there, staring at the floor. The razor, still lying by the wall, caught his eye. Jonathan crossed the room and grabbed it from the floor. He twirled it in his fingers again and studied the sharp edge. The release of pain was always nice but he hated the way the blade had felt, stinging as it would slice through him. He put the blade back into his carton of cigarettes and pushed the box further away on the table so that he wouldn’t see it. The sun had completely set by now and he stood at the window. The bars blurred in his vision so he could only see the garden outside. He thought about Toby and how they had escaped over the wall for the night, and how he had come back to Margaret waiting for him in his room. The thought of her prickled his skin and jumped his heart. Why couldn’t they find comfort in pain, especially when it was in each other? Maybe this wasn’t just a momentary salve, what if there was a reason why they were both here together? Life was never ensured and he was young and wanted everything out of life while he could still bear being alive. The analog clock on the wall read midnight and he sighed quietly, trying to make himself tired. Time changed shapes when he was depressed, it slipped by quicker than he could understand or it slowed down to a painful trickle. The corridors were quiet outside and the night nurses retired to the office, listening out for the sound of harm. Jonathan’s door clicked open and he jerked around, expecting to see a nurse.

Margaret closed the door quietly behind her and looked at him, a shy smile coming to her lips. His silhouette blocked the light from coming in through the window but she could still make out his sharp face in the shadow. She walked up to him and kissed him softly, her hands finding the angular shapes in his face. His lips were slightly chapped and he licked them when she pulled away for breath.

“You’re here,” he whispered and she nodded.

“You were right. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” he put his hands around her hips and ran his thumbs up and down. Her white nightgown glowed in whatever light still managed to shine through the small window. Like before, he could see the shape of her body below the clothes and he shivered. She wore no shoes so she stood on the balls of her feet to kiss him, wrapping her arms around his neck. He leaned into her and supported her hips as she balanced. She took a step back and panted slightly, he watched her, his lips pink from kissing. She took the hem of her sweater and pulled it over her head and dropped it ungracefully to the floor. Jonathan stared at her as his heart quickened further. He thought he knew what was happening but he wanted her to lead him, he wanted her to be in control as it started, so he waited until she went back to him and unbuttoned his cardigan. He kept his arms by his sides and let her push the cardigan off his shoulders and down his arms. She studied his body as she undressed it slowly. She unbuttoned his top, the one that was still too short on his arms, and paused when his chest was exposed. With her shaky fingers, she traced the line of his sternum down to his navel. His stomach flinched below her cold touch and he smiled as he watched her, her lips held open in awe. She took off his shirt slowly and kissed his collarbones up to his shoulders. He yearned to undress her immediately but he waited for her to explore him completely at her own pace.

Margaret looked up at his eyes that looked royal blue in the dark and hooked her fingers around the waistband of his pants. He nodded and she pulled down his pants, so he stood with only his boxers and socks on. She stepped back once again and looked at him. His chest was hairless and smooth, there was some scarring from old acne at the base of his neck. He had long lanky legs and longer dark hair that swept naturally to either side of his face. He was beautiful, she thought to herself. He could tell that she was giving him his turn, waiting for him to touch her as she had touched him. He approached her slowly and started by tucking her hair behind her ear. She closed her head and leaned into his gentle touch, he smiled. Jonathan ran his index fingers down either side of her chest to her navel and bunched the fabric of her nightgown into his hands. Then he moved his fingers to the cuffs of her sleeves and played with the small eyelets of lace decorating each one. He smiled down at her and when she opened her eyes, she smiled back.

“Are you ready?” He asked her quietly and she nodded.

“Yes.”

Jonathan returned his hands to the fabric around her navel and pulled the dress up and over her head. Her hair fell back against her shoulders when the gown left her head. He put the dress aside and looked down at her bare chest. He didn't expect her breasts to be bare below the gown and the sight of them made him blush. His hands rushed to touch them but he managed to slow down his movements, touching her ribs first before sliding his dry hands over her chest. She exhaled shakily as he cupped and squeezed her breasts in his hands. It was like he was seeing a girl naked for the first time, though he was not a virgin by any means. He knew she was, he could tell without her having to say the words. So these moments were important to her and he wanted to honor that. He moved his hands up to the base of her neck and he kissed her. He lowered himself slowly to the ground, to his knees, and looked up at her. She looked down at him with a mix of fear and anticipation. He smirked reassuringly and kissed the front of her underwear.

“Can I taste you?” He asked quietly and she drew in a shaky breath before nodding with a small whimper. He slowly pulled down the waistband of her underwear, exposing her cunt, and left the underwear half-way up her thighs. He felt his erection push against his boxers as he placed a second kiss on her cunt and she gasped quietly. His hands held her thighs still as he licked the closed entrance, guarded by a small gathering of hair. He lowered his head farther and ran his tongue up and down her slit. She gasped softly as he did so and her hands found his shoulders which she squeezed. He raised his head and kissed her navel where she had a small freckle. He pulled her underwear down the rest of the way and helped her step out of it. He stood up and cupped her face in his hands.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispered and she held his wrist, looking up into his blue eyes.

“Will you fuck me?” She asked him slowly and he smiled.

“Yeah,” he nodded, “yeah.”

She kissed him and breathed deeply through her nose, catching his scent and relaxing against him. Jonathan guided her to his bed and they both crawled onto the mattress and sat on their knees, kissing each other hungrily. She lowered herself back onto the bed, her head at the foot of his bed. He supported himself above her, his arms on either side of her head, careful to avoid her hair as it spread out around her head. He looked at her, startled by exactly how beautiful she really was. He kissed down her chest and held the tops of her thighs in his arms, lowering his head to taste her again. She squirmed as he nibbled at her thighs and traced her labia with his tongue. He sucked and prodded her while she whimpered quietly, her hands still gripped around his shoulders. He hummed against her and she moaned, her hand snapped against her mouth to ensure that she wouldn’t be too loud. He came up for air and smiled. She was arching her back against the mattress, her chest rising and falling with excitement.

“Are you ready for me?” He asked her and she propped herself up on her elbows.

“I think so,” she whispered.

“I’ll go slow, ok?” He nodded reassuringly and she smiled nervously.

“Ok.”

He slid off his boxers, showing his erection. Margaret looked at him, her brows furrowed in fear. He noticed her expression and cupped her cheek with his hand.

“Hey, it’ll be ok. You can tell me to stop anytime and we’ll take everything slow.” She smiled softly and nodded again. He spat on his hand and fisted himself slowly, coating his erection with the lubricant. He moved the head of his erection against her and pressed gently at the small opening. “It’ll hurt a little at first. I’ll try to be gentle, tell me to stop if it hurts too much.” He rubbed the side of her thigh and pushed inside her just a little. She exhaled stiffly and he pushed a little farther.

“Relax, It’ll feel better for you if you do.” He cupped her face and waited for her to relax around him before going all the way in. She gasped sharply when he was inside but as soon as he was, her body opened to accommodate him. The stretch of him inside her was nice and she caught her breath.

“Ready?” he smiled, his arms propping himself up above her. She nodded enthusiastically and slid her hands up his chest, to his neck.

“Yes, I’m ready. I’m so ready.” She whispered and he chuckled softly. He thrusted farther before pulling out and doing it again. She learned how to catch and release her breath as he entered her, hitting a spot that made her gasp in pleasure. She didn’t think that penetration could feel so good. Jonathan panted and tried to compose himself as he slid in and out of her tight cunt. He moved slowly above her and shivered in pleasure at the sound of her quiet moans. He dropped his face close to hers and watched each other as they opened their mouths in silent gasps, exchanging hot breath.

“Faster,” she whispered and put her hands on his lower back, pulling him farther inside her.

“Fuck,” he gasped weakly and moved his hips quicker, her walls tightened around him as she squeezed her thighs. The bed squeaked quietly beneath them and she laughed quietly, bracing one hand against the wall beside them.

“Jesus, Jonathan…” she gasped and threw her head back against the mattress, “so good…” was all she managed to get out and he cupped her breast with his free hand.

“Fuck, fuck,” Jonathan cursed and changed the angle of his thrusts, hitting her G-spot exactly. She gasped loudly and covered her mouth quickly. He covered her hand with his hand and went faster, hitting the spot again and again. He watched her eagerly as her eyes rolled back into her head and she grew wetter around him. He gasped quietly and panted, the muscles in his back flexing and relaxing with each thrust.

“You’re going to cum,” he panted out and she nodded breathlessly beneath their hands. Her legs wrapped around him and pulled him as far as he could go inside her and he tried to quiet his involuntary whimpers as she kept gripping around him and coercing him deeper and deeper inside. Finally she came and he felt her finish around him. She moaned into her hand and he helped stifle the noise as she finished. He pulled out and kissed her, his hands now pulling the cum from between her legs and coating his still-erect penis. He fisted himself as she kissed him, sucking on his tongue and his lips as she came down from her organsmic high. He was still wet and hot from being inside her and he finished in his hand, shooting his cum onto the cement floor. He broke their kiss and panted heavily above her, his arm now tired from masturbating.

“Did you finish?” She asked softly and he nodded. “You pulled out,” she observed and Jonathan smiled.

“You said you were scared of getting pregnant,” he laughed, letting his head fall against her stomach. She smiled, contracting the muscles in her abdomen, and she carded her fingers through his hair. He turned his head to rest his cheek on her bare stomach and looked up at her. She stared straight up at the ceiling and twirled his hair.

“Was it ok? Did it hurt?” He asked softly and she shook her head.

“It didn’t hurt as much as I thought it would. It was really good, Jonathan,” she sat up and he rolled over to rest his head on her thigh. She leaned over him and kissed him. He sat up and ran his hand around her waist, kissing her more.

“You were so perfect,” he whispered.

“Is this how it’s supposed to end?” She asked him as he pulled away. He furrowed his brow.

“What do you mean?”

“Do I go back to my room now? I don’t know what people do after sex.” She pulled her hair around her shoulder and braided it nervously. He laughed lightly and shook his head.

“No, no. You can stay here. I want you to stay here…” he trailed off and admired how her body looked in the moonlight after they had fucked. Her face was flushed and her lips were wet from kissing.

“Ok,” she dropped her hair and nodded slowly, “I'll stay.”

“Good.” He smiled and reached over the bed for their clothes. He pulled the sweater over her head and rubbed her arms to warm them up. She pulled on her cotton underwear while he put his pants back on. He pulled down the covers for the first time since getting there and they crawled beneath the blankets. They faced each other and Jonathan petted her hair away from her face, absorbed by how soft she was.

“Your lip’s getting better,” he observed and she smiled.

“Who would’ve thought,” she joked. They stayed there in silence, Jonathan stroking her hair. Margaret shifted closer to him in bed where it was warmer. “Are you tired?” she asked in a low voice and Jonathan nodded slowly.

“Yeah, a little.”

“Did it take a lot of energy?”

“To fuck you?” He smiled.

“Yeah,” she laughed quietly and he shrugged.

“Yeah but it was worth it. I like being tired after. I liked making you cum.” He added at the end with a smirk.

“I liked it too. I like you.” She nestled her head below his and he sighed, wrapping his arms around her. He kissed the top of her head and waited for her to fall asleep before drifting off himself. She smelled like the outside, fresh and clean like rain. The smell washed him away.

----

The end? lmk below if I should continue this series :)

#cillian x fem!reader #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy #smut #cillian fluff #young!cillian x reader #young cillian murphy #jonathan crane x reader #jonathan crane #jonathan breech #on the edge 2001 #multi chap fic #cillian fanfic #fanfiction #cillian fic

105 notes · View notes

triassictriserratops · 16 days

Note

checking in to say I’m such a sucker for Katniss and Peeta discussing their mommy issues once they’re together again. I once saw a post pointing out that they’re the only ones in the series with that kind of trauma and it made so much sense to me why they easily bonded with each other. Just imagine them finally being able to discuss how unsafe they felt even before the games and realize that they have someone in their family who understands that problem and doesn’t make it feel that way. Katniss and Peeta have always been tender with each other but I fear it only gets worse the more they share and get close

we joke a lot about how THG is what Katniss would write about her experiences in the games and war. (Explaining her, frankly, INSANE odes to Peeta's eyelashes.) but also? we're sleeping on the idea that Katniss writes a book absolutely trashing Peeta's mom. It's gonna be a fucking BESTSELLER. I actually have an advanced reader copy, here, lemme show you:

(Note, i spent like 4 hours making this absolutely garbage fucking cover, please validate me. My feelings gland needs this.) I also have this idea that while Katniss does come to understand her mother better by the end of the book - a relationship, a GOOD relationship, with the two of them - it's just going to take time. In that time, maybe Peeta helps to bridge the gap. He does weekly check-ins with Katniss' mom. Telling her how Katniss is doing but also answering her questions about how HE'S doing. And he realizes how...nice it is for a mom to want to know how his day was or be proud of his accomplishments. It's not a replacement for what he should have had, but it's nicer than what he ever got. His relationship with his family is gone. That's it. There will never be any hope of it ever getting better. But Katniss DOES have her mom and he wants to help them. And, from the conversations and tears they've shared about this, he knows she wants it too. So he starts by suggesting that Katniss' mom go through her own therapy to be able to come to terms with her grief and the consequences of what that grief did to her relationships with her living family. He puts her in touch with Dr. Aurelius who gives him a referral to someone in 4 that works in grief and family counseling. And it's not easy. Not by any means. Not for anyone. But in time, years, decades - the bonds of family are strengthened. They're never perfect, you can't fix the past, of course. But the pains are acknowledged on both sides. Their new relationship is hard-earned and exactly what they both need of each other. 15 years down the line, Mrs. Everdeen gets to push the hair out of her daughters eyes while she delivers her first grandbaby. She gets to watch her baby look in awe, and wonderment at her own baby. She gets to watch her family grow a little bigger and a little stronger. Later, when Peeta makes sure both Katniss and baby are safe and sleeping, he goes over to Mrs. Everdeen and hugs her tightly. "Thanks for being here for us, Ma."

#peeta mellark #katniss everdeen #everlark #mrs. everdeen #mrs. mellark #the hunger games #thg series #thg #hunger games headcanon #thg headcanons #the hunger games headcanon #i'm glad my mom died #johanna mason #delly cartwright

75 notes · View notes

mysoftboybensolo · 10 months

Text

Is there an Asexual Problem in the Shadow and Bone Fandom?

(trigger warning: mentions of sexual assault)

This is something I have been pondering for a long while now, and with the recent season really made me consider it more. I want to state before going into this that I am a demisexual, in case this changes anyone’s mind of what I am about to say. Before going into my spiel, here are some terms I feel need to be explained; Asexual, meaning a person who experiences no sexual feelings or desires, not feeling sexually attracted to another; Aromantic, meaning a person who experiences little to no romantic attraction or feelings towards another; Demisexual, meaning a person who develops sexual feelings or attraction to another only after developing a close relationship, not based on first impressions or physical attributes; Allosexual, meaning a person who experiences sexual attraction of a regular basis. Now that we have that out of the way, let’s begin.

I feel as if there is an Ace problem in the Shadow and Bone fandom because it feels like everyone has things mixed up and is unaware of what the definition of asexual is, but there are a few people on here that I have interacted with, who came across more acephobic when discussing these topics. It also doesn’t help that there was a major issue with one of the writers posting a picture of two of the actors with a caption that was very, whether she meant to or not, offensive and harmful. But let’s talk about why I think there may be an ace issue in the fandom.

My first problem is how people view mainly Kaz, but also Inej. It is really bothersome when people say that they are asexual due to trauma. You can headcanon them as asexual if you have something else to back it up other than relying on trauma. Why? Because it’s harmful. Coming out to my friends and family that I was demisexual wasn’t always easy, because some immediately thought that it meant something was wrong. I was asked straight out by one person if I had been sexually assaulted and if that is the reason why I claimed I was demisexual, with someone even suggesting I go to therapy for it. This happens to people on the ace spectrum more than people think, leading to the allo-sexual people believing in the myth that being asexual means “broken” or “damaged”. It has been known to happen that a character can be both asexual and traumatized, but their sexuality shouldn’t be based on what their trauma is. Imagine asking a lesbian if they prefer women because they had a bad experience with a man. Doesn’t that sound incredibly offensive? It’s the same thing with ace-spectrum people.

Kaz and Inej do want each other, there are more than three passages which talks about their desires for each other. I personally headcanon them as demisexual, mainly because in those times the narration talks of desire, it’s always to each other, but that is just me. There is no denying that they want each other, just held back by their own traumas, and how they both want to heal in order to achieve intimacy. Quite literally, at the end of Crooked Kingdom, they are holding hands without gloves, and it shows that they are healing and want to try to further their physical relationship, and it doesn’t take away the great emotional bond that they have together.

Trauma is something that should be healed, it should not be something a person carries throughout their life, preventing them from living a healthy and happy life. Hearing people say that there can’t be anything more between them even in the future because they are asexual due to trauma feels like you don’t want them to heal from their abusive past. The fact that Kaz can’t even hold hands with her is sad, the fact that people touch Inej and she’s back at the menagerie is tragic, they should be able to have the chance to have simple intimacies with people, regardless of whether or not you want them to have sex. If your only argument as to why a character is asexual is “trauma” then you are doing it wrong.

The other problem I have is Tolya. I love Tolya, he’s a great character, and I know that many people who watch the show may have not read the books, but he is aro-ace. In Rule of Wolves, Nikolai asks Tolya why he is single, the text says “Tolya shrugged his huge shoulders. ‘I have my faith, my books, I never wanted more.’”, which is as close to saying aro-ace without saying the words (x). People have taken the tiny moment between him and Inej as something possibly romantic, and I hope the show doesn’t go that route, not just because Kanej is endgame, but because it would be stripping away the proper ace-spectrum representation the fandom needs. But what bothers me more is how fans, who may not know this, are being told by others why they don’t like the relationship will react harshly, saying that it’s not set in stone, that Tolya is whatever they want him to be.

So, a character who isn’t ace in the source material is suddenly ace, but then a different character who is ace in the source material suddenly isn’t. This is a problem. I was talking about this with another blog and their response was to say that it isn’t set in stone, how dare I try to change his sexuality, and I just don’t want Inej to have nice things. I didn’t change anything about his sexuality, it’s that way in the books, and the show never said what his sexuality is or isn’t, and this idea that Inej deserves someone who can touch her is incredibly offensive. This is similar to the one writer who made an Instagram post with Amita and Lewis, with a comment that says “Sometimes you need some skin on skin” link right here (x). This is incredibly offensive, to suggest that the only way a fulfilling relationship is through physical means, erasing Inej’s trauma, making fun to the point of being ableist of Kaz, and ignoring that Tolya is canonically aro-ace.

Diversity is incredibly important, there is no denying that, and as someone on the ace-spectrum, I always look for it, but when there is an actual character who is shown to be on the spectrum, it is incredibly disrespectful to change that just because you want to ship them with someone else. Imagine if Tolya was gay and you changed him to being straight because you liked him with a female character, that would have been bad. It’s the same thing.

In short, being ace is not a result of trauma, people should be allowed to heal, and don’t change character’s sexual/romantic preferences just for your own shipping needs.

Tagging: @foxhellvar @darklingswhore @manikas-whims @smolandweirdwriter @lixiesbabyhands @lyannarhaegars @quillsthrills @freddycartr @freddycarterus

#shadow and bone #six of crows #crooked kingdom #kaz brekker #inej ghafa #tolya yul bataar #asexual #demisexual #aromantic #amita suman #freddy carter #lewis tan #kaz x inej #kanej

342 notes · View notes

ken-dom · 3 months

Note

Need fluffy tummy lars fic 😭

I know this says fluff but we’ve discussed it since, and it’s got some spice too, so… under the cut 😈

NSFW, gn!reader, making out, mentions of panicked and overwhelmed Lars, touch therapy, very light themes of body worship

∘₊✧─────────────────────✧₊∘

Lars flinched at the hand rucking up the front of his sweater, his three additional layers sliding up with it, leaving his lower belly exposed to the cool air.

He squeezed his eyes shut, worried what you’d think when you realised he didn’t have a six pack of rippling abs you could use as a washboard, but also bracing himself for the impending sensation of his trousers tightening around his waist as you unfastened the clip, and the sound of the zipper being lowered enough for you to free his length.

That’s what came next right — after a kiss like this one? Hungry and needy and desperate? When you’d been practising touch for so long and he’d practically begged you to take it up a notch?

But his trousers remained closed, too tight over his growing bulge, half relief and half disappointment settling uncomfortably in his gut, swirling with the butterflies he couldn’t control.

You moved so slowly, dragging your fingertips along his waistband, ghosting over his skin. He’d never been touched there by someone else. It felt surprisingly nice. Tingly. Warm. He waited for you to change your mind.

As you somehow deepened the kiss further, you eagerly grabbed a handful of his belly, the soft curve filling the hollow of your palm as your fingers tenderly kneaded his flesh.

He moaned, not expecting it to feel so good, but it was comforting as far as touch went, and it sent thrills shooting right to his throbbing core each time you squeezed. A strange combination, but one he felt he’d missed out on for far too long.

Was he supposed to enjoy it like that? Was it supposed to be… sexy as well as comforting? Was he supposed to enjoy that his lips felt swollen and his guts felt like they were churning? Was he supposed to want to c-

He startled as you pulled your lips away to trail hot, sloppy kisses over his stubbled jaw and down his neck, still grabbing at his stomach, and he breathed a choked out and incredulous, ‘Y-you like that?’

‘Mmhmm,’ you hummed against his throat, and he whimpered, swooning back against his pillow, thankful you’d laid down part way through the kiss or he might actually pass out.

‘Your body is incredible,’ you whispered, sliding your hand further up inside his sweater to explore his very grabbable pecs, too. ‘Strong. Soft. Safe. So sexy it’s unreal…’

‘My… body? You like my body?’ he whined, writhing under your touch now. Your arousal pressed against his thigh was doing nothing to steady him.

‘I would’ve thought it was obvious how handsome you are all round, Lars,’ you soothed, leaning down to gently press your lips to his once again.

Lars swallowed hard. Touch therapy was one thing, but boosting his confidence too? Worshipping his body? You were making him dizzy. His cheeks burned.

‘Now take this sweater off, hm?’

‘W-why?’

‘I wanna watch you chop wood with those deliciously strong arms of yours. Too many layers.’

‘Oh- uhm- oh-ok,’ he agreed, smiling, and you lifted yourself off him, stopping to leave a final, wet kiss on the happy trail of that gorgeously soft, exposed belly and a hint of a bite too; just a gentle scrape of your teeth and a light suck, feeling him shudder as your lips popped away before you stood from his bed.

‘I know you want more. One step at a time, though? Like we agreed?’

He nodded, furrowing his brow. You were right. He was so close to becoming overwhelmed and panicking, but he wasn’t sure if even wood chopping would burn off this feeling, or if he’d be able to calm his erection at all without… well…

You took his hand and led him to the door. There, you smoothed down his mussed hair and leaned in close. His breath caught in his chest.

‘When you’ve built us a fire, we can take the rest of your clothes off and try more touching if you want to, alright?’

Was it safe to chop wood when he thought he might pass out? He wasn’t sure he cared.

#not s f w 💀#lars lindstrom x reader #ryan gosling #lars and the real girl #lars lindstrom smut #lars lindstrom fluff #ryan gosling x reader #lars lindstrom imagines #ken-dom answers

84 notes · View notes

oceansssblue · 11 days

Note

If you're still taking clone requests, I would LOVE to see something cute and domestic! A couple ideas I've been rotating in my head lately:

-Fives and reader messing around in the kitchen together, making dinner, dancing to stupid music and teasing each other's cooking skills, which inevitably ends in a huge mess (and dinner probably being forgotten about...)

-Wrecker getting sick and being forced into bed despite trying to keep working. It's totally against his will at first, but soon he starts to enjoy the chance to be soft and gentle. The reader finally convinces him to let them take care of him for once, assuring him that he doesn't always have to be the strong one

-Echo and the reader discussing starting a family, Echo expressing his doubts about what kind of father he would be and the reader reassuring him, telling him how much they love watching him with Omega and how good a father he'd be. The more they talk about it the more excited Echo gets at the idea

Hope these sparked something for you! Have a great day :)

Okay okay! Decided to do the two bottom ones as I've already done a kitchen fluffy one with fives and got a few for him requested as well (one of which I'll be working on next).

They're short, since I wanted to do both of then in the same post under the cut. Hope you like them, enjoy!

"BED REST"

TBB REQUESTS– WRECKER/GN READER 📩💖

WARNINGS: none

Somehow, inherently with being a big, strong person, Wrecker was used to helping people. Maybe it was just Wrecker's personality on itself; the way he felt truly happy when taking care of someone, being part of the solution to someone's problem. Wether it be physicall help or kind words, it made him feel warm.

What Wrecker wasn't used to, however, was to be taken care of. Well, he had a very close relationship with his brothers, and they always had an eye out for each other; but it wasn't like that. It didn't soothe any deeper emotional part of him. It was more of a... physical safety check of sorts. Tech had actually suggested to integrate a monthly therapy session to talk about their respective feelings years ago; but it hadn't ended up being a reality, lost instead in his never ending line of hypothetical ideas.

Maybe that's the reason why Wrecker doesn't say anything about the way he's feeling himself. Maybe that's the reason why he puts up a big smile on his face and sits through the presentation of your project as if he's not feeling downright awful. He's so kind and sweet even in his state you don't even notice it until you're actually home with him; and you see him pulling up an uncomfortable expression when he watches you take out some pasta from your fridge.

"Wrecker?" You look at him confused and slightly worried. "Are you feeling okay, honey?"

Wrecker tries to smile again; but his expresion falls and he quickly takes a hand to his stomach, putting slight preasure to it.

You frown and close the fridge, abandoning the tupper back inside of it and aproaching him closely. You carefully place your hand on his wide shoulder.

"Sweetheart, are you feeling ill?" You guess.

Wrecker hesitates.

"Oh, it's nothing" he quickly answers, even with his face twisting in pain. "Just my stomach being whinny".

You smile and caress his shoulder. Poor Wrecker, trying to ignore himself to push through your presentation and make you happy. You can't have him suffering.

"Why don't you go lay down on bed for a bit? I'll make you some tea and be right there" you suggest.

Wrecker frowns in disagreement.

"Oh, no, love, there's no need. I'm fine, really. I'll probably be as good as new in a pair of hours".

You're a little confused as by why he's so reluctant to admit he's not doing good and let you help. You try to soothe him with another caress and a smile; gentle expression on your face.

"And you can rest til you do" you insist, softly but firm, leaving no space for him to evade you.

Wrecker glances to the side.

"Oh, uh... Love..." he suddenly exhales deeply, as if surrendering, and adds in an embarassed tone "I just don't want you to feel like you need to fuss over me. I can take care of myself".

You blink slowly. Ah. You might be starting to see the problem. Maybe it's related with the fact that he's a soldier; always the hero, the saviour, and not the damsel in distress. Maybe it's just that he's Wrecker; always strong and efficient. Well...

"You don't have to be strong with me all the time" you whisper to him, closing up the distance between each others faces and nuzzling your nose with his, affectionately. "I know you can take care of yourself, Wreck, but I want to take care of you too".

Wrecker sighs, and you know you've almost got him convinced, so you continue.

"You always take such good care of me, love. I want to take care of you now. Wanna make you feel loved and safe. Let me, please?"

Wrecker melts and finally nods. You give him a little smile and direct him to your bedroom. Your boyfriend slowly lays in bed, with his back against the wall, watching you hesitantly; you give him a peck on the cheek before returning to the kitchen and quickly putting up together the best of your teas. You think it might help to settle Wrecker's stomach.

You go back to your bedroom with it in your hand; and you carefully pass it to Wrecker, who inmediately gives it an exploratory sip. He humms in aproval; and you find a spot besides him, both of your thighs pressed together.

You patiently wait til Wrecker has finished his tea and has left the empty cup on your nightstand. Then, you slowly direct the clone to scooch downwards and place his head on your lap. You caress his head, then his shoulders and chest; soothing patterns with the sole purpose to comfort him.

Wrecker melts. This was better than what he had thought of at first. He thought it might be uncomfortable, relinquishing control to some other person, being the one in need; but oh, this is great, with your soft hands and your tender words. He might grow to even like it.

Your hands squeeze a sore spot on his shoulder and he groans.

Yeah. He will.

THE END.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

"TO PLAN A FAMILY"

TBB REQUESTS – ECHO/F READER 📩💖

WARNINGS: Mentions of prosthetics and starting a family.

You first noticed it at the end of your first year dating Echo. The lingering glances, the way he seemed to grow lost in his thoughts, how he sighed deeply as if there was something pulling at his heart. You became observant throughout the first part of that second year together; and you reached your conclusion. It's always Hunter and Omega.

They're incredibly sweet, both of them. It's warming to see them interact together in their own special father and daughter relationship. Hunter's firm and always attentive; Omega in his teenager era trying to be more independent. Trying to show everyone she's capable, though you all know she is.

Inevitably, you start paying more attention to Echo's own interactions with the blond girl. For some reason, Omega has always saved a special spot on her heart for Echo; and since you returned with him to the Marauder after a last dangerous mission with Rex and the Rebellion, she has grown even closer to the man that holds your own heart.

It makes you melt, the way he takes care of her. How he teaches her and how he patiently waits for her to replicate his lesson; gentle hands redirecting her and a proud, small smile pulling on his lips when she achieves it. When things get hard, and Omega grows sad or restless, Echo talks her through it; voice soft but not masking reality, helping her understand and process that things can't always be as they want to, but that there's always a reason to keep trying. Your heart squeezes painfully in your chest when you think on how many times this wonderful man has said those same words to himself.

"Echo" you whisper his name one night when you can't keep holding it in. He slowly turns in bed towards you and hums sleeply. You brace yourself for any possible reaction of his. "Do you ever want to have kids?"

At first, Echo seems to freeze. Then he blinks twice, as if he is trying to move on from the fact that you've actually asked him this question out loud; and then he sighs quietly.

"I don't know if I should, to start with" he answers, voice barely audible in the silence of your bedroom.

You frown, lost.

"Why not?"

Echo mirrors your position in front of him; laying on one side of his body with his prosthetic knees slightly bent and head resting on his left bycep.

His eyes move away from yours, glancing down in that reserved way of his that indicate he's feeling a mix of contradicting emotions. You know him well by now.

"We're not living the safest of lifes, cyare. What kind of father would I be if I had to dissapear to help Rex here and there, or put my son through a constant runaway? Besides... They just might get scared of me".

You know the last statement refers to his appearance –you haven't met him before, so you've always seen this shape of his hot as fuck–; and you gently clasp his shoulder with your hand.

"Don't say that" you answer, softly. "They won't. They won't care if you have methalic legs or arms or a headset. They'd love you just the same, just like I do. It's what good families do".

Echo stays silent, thoughtfull. He shimmies forward in bed so that you're touching now; one of your thighs quickly moving over his hip and snuggling together, noses touching and nuzzling slowly.

"Would you?" He finally asks you. "Have kids?"

Your heart beats steadily inside your chest. You can't lie to him.

"Yes" you whisper, hand moving to caress his cheek delicately. You sigh, wishful, and you confess "I love watching you with Omega. You've just got the perfect ammount of gentleness, firmness, patience and honesty. I can't help but imagine you crouching down to explain something to a little Echo as well".

You kiss him sweetly and whisper in front of his lips "You'd be a great father, riduur".

Echo makes a sound with the back of his throat, pulling you tigther towards him. You close your eyes in the embrace.

Echo pictures it in his mind. A smaller version of himself and you, a perfect mix, running around and asking innocent questions to the both of you. How you'd look with him in your arms and how much you'd both love him. It's so beautiful in his mind it suddenly hurts for it not to be real.

Echo hums and conceeds.

"We can talk thorugh it seriously tomorrow" he agrees, pulling a radiant hopeful smile on your face "But right now it's late, and we both need to sleep".

You nod enthusiastically. You know you won't be able to for at least another hour, too excited at the possibility of your recents dream becoming true; but you'll just close your eyes and listen to his steady heartbeat.

You give his lips a peck and glance downwards. You tap his prosthetics with your index.

"You gonna take this today, mesh'la?" You ask him casually.

Once thing you have learned is that Echo doesn't like his physical problems to be treated as if he were made of glass. He understands the empathy; but it makes him uncomfortable, sometimes. By now, after two years together, you've already perfectioned your ways; and the best one is to just be normal about it, not to avoid it or tone it down. Echo's dissabled, but not uncapable. There's an abism of a difference.

"Yeah" Echo answers, moving to search the joints and attachments to abandon his prosthetic legs to the side. "My hips hurt today".

You hum and patiently wait for him to pull them off, leaving them carefully on the floor, before he rolls back towards you and you instanctly welcome him back into your arms.

You kiss him again and yawn.

"We'll take a warm bath tomorrow and I'll give you a nice massage afterwards" you offer, growing sleepy.

Echo smiles.

"You're too good to me" he whispers, cuddling closer.

You hum in disagreement.

"I'm as good as you deserve".

That night, you both dream of your own little family.

THE END.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

taraaaa! Two in one love, u can't complain! Hahahaha. I hope you liked them, they ended up really fluffy and sweet on my opinion.

I'll be writing either a Fives or Tech request next, stay stunned!

Xx,

Sky.

Back to general masterlist here!

57 notes · View notes

lolabangtan · 1 year

Text

STAY | 16

It’s time you step up and talk things out with Jungkook.

index • previous

Word count: 12k

Warnings: smut.

# hurt/comfort, themed grad party where things happen 👀, not as dramatic as you’d think, Ari Besto Friendo, lovemaking *ugly sobs*, ‘spanking’, ‘rough’ handjob, mommy kink, spitting, squirting, overstimulation, “choking”, orgasm denial, unprotected vaginal sex, soft degrading kink.

A/N: this is the end. See you in therapy. Also, I recommend you to listen to the playlist while reading, it gets you.

“What happened with Ms Min?”

Seokjin looks to the side and says, “She got caught up with work and asked me to step in for her.”

“Oh, I see…” Professor Choi murmurs. Then he nods, beckoning him to take a seat. “We were just starting with the meeting. Thank you for joining us, Mr Kim. So, as I was saying, the most voted theme for the graduation party…”

The looks of curiosity are heavy on his nape as Seokjin walks across the class. There’s only one seat left and, unfortunately, it’s right next to Jeon Jungkook.

“Hey,” he whispers.

The boy, of course, doesn’t answer.

Seokjin takes a seat anyways and waits for the professor to pick up the meeting where it left off before the interruption. As Mr Choi informs them, the graduation theme is, by almost unanimous choice, a prom with nostalgic airs. There is nothing better than reliving one’s youth, as long as it was pleasant, and since the sufferers did not dare to say that it was hell for them, that is how the vote stood.

The committee gets down to work once everything is discussed; from where the party will be held to what drinks will be served, everyone works as a team.

Jungkook, however, feels pressure in his chest.

He won’t be coming, he’s sure of that. Can’t even imagine the idea of getting drunk in public again. And he doesn’t know what’s worse, the fact that he almost slept with someone or the fact that there was no reason he shouldn’t have. If you had truly not broken up, wouldn’t you have come to him already, screaming blue murder?

As he makes a quick doodle of the table layout under a senior’s supervision, Seokjin leans into him from his side; he’s been annoyingly trying to get closer to him ever since the meeting started. Jungkook moves his arm and covers the paper.

“Oh, oppa, can you take care of him?” the girl asks. “You remember best how’s the pavilion, and I have no idea how many tables we can fit in there!”

“Sure.”

They wait until their classmate is gone. “I don’t need your stupid help.”

“Ugh, God—” The eldest crosses his arms. “How much longer are you gonna act up like this? You’re just making people uncomfortable, and you’re self-sabotaging. I’m sure you’re smarter than that.”

“Are you calling me dumb?” Jungkook blurts out.

“Is that what you think I’m trying to say?”

But Jungkook makes no answer – instead, he takes his drawing and brings it to another of the seniors who is more familiar with the layout of the pavilion. He no longer needs Kim Seokjin and his stupid help, and he’s not the only one who knows the place better than a sophomore who’s never stepped in there.

The meeting ends half an hour later. Everyone is released to go to their classes, and Jungkook hurries off to lock himself in his room and not return. He just hopes that his nemesis has unfinished business to do on the other side of campus, or even better, the other side of town.

Today, however, is not his lucky day.

“Hey, Jungkook-ssi.” Seokjin comes in seconds after and closes the door with care. “Can we talk?”

The youngest is lying face down on the bed. If he doesn’t move, it would look like he’s asleep, and his senior would leave him alone; Jungkook doesn’t want to listen to any of the silly excuses he has to make.

“I know you’re awake, you’re still wearing your outdoor clothes. Can’t even imagine all that dirt impregnating your clean sheets right now…”

Don’t fall for it.

“Oh, and it’s the first time I see your shoes on the bed too!”

Okay, that’s the last straw.

Jungkook jumps off the bed and kicks his shoes off, overwhelmed by the ick. Then he slumps into it again, and Seokjin manages to sit by him like a mother ready to try and make her teenage son come to his senses, making sure to take his shoes off first.

“What’s your fucking problem!” he finally cries out. “What? Are you— are you obsessed with making me miserable or something?”

At his outburst, Seokjin stares at him in silence, totally shocked; it wasn’t his intention to push him to his limits like that, but maybe that’s the only way there is to get him to sit down and talk things out. And it’s a very needed thing, to discuss what the hell is going on – there have been too many victims already, and Jin would like to freeze the number of casualties.

“Now I’m the one who’s got a problem?” Seokjin barks back.

Jungkook grimaces. “Yeah! You—!”

“I what?”

With his breath hitching in his throat and his face colouring in frustration, the youngest goes silent. He’s looking for the words, all those things he’s been wanting to yell at this guy for weeks, and now that he has the chance, Jungkook is beginning to realise he doesn’t even know what to say – and he probably won’t until he figures out what he feels. Right now, his mouth is babbling, and his heart is just as confused.

“You…! Y/N-noona…!” And then he bursts into tears, and Seokjin grimaces in utter pity, suddenly forgetting all the pain this boy has caused you. “She dumped me for you! It’s all your fault! I’m sorry I’m—!”

“What—?”

But Jungkook rambles on, “And now she hates me, and I just can’t forget about her! I love her and she hates me!”

“Okay, o— listen! Man, you got it all wrong!” Seokjin suddenly exclaims, and he stops. “I’m not with Y/N, okay? We’re friends, that’s it! God, isn’t she dating you? How could she be with me?”

All the heat that came to his cheeks disappears in an instant. His brain hasn’t fully processed Seokjin’s words, but there’s a pinch of hope at what they could mean.

“But— but I heard you,” he babbles.

“Heard us?”

“Yeah! You… you told her you love her and that you wanted to be with her!”

Jin frowns – he’s totally lost. “And when was this?”

“It was… the day you came to practice,” Jungkook replies, his voice weaker than ever. “We, uh, had a little quarrel with our friends—”

“The bet, I know all about it. You found out about the bet,” Jin sums up.

“Yeah, and noona said she ‘needed time’, so she left. She also wouldn’t answer my calls, and she texted me that she’d call me back, but she never did. Then I came back home because it was late, and I heard you talking in our room— and you asked her to get back together!”

“Oh, Jesus Christ…”

Rubbing his face with a tired groan, Seokjin sits back down on the bed. His body is suddenly ten years older, and his heart is ten kilos heavier. This is a much bigger deal than he thought it would be.

“Dude, you got it all wrong,” he finally says.

“You said you love her—!”

“Listen, Jungkook-ssi,” Seokjin cuts him off, “I didn’t mean it… romantically! We used to be friends, you know, but Y/N really resented me after we broke up,” he explains then. “I messed up and hurt her. So, I was, uh, apologising? I love her, that’s true. She’s a very important person to me; important enough for me to want her forgiveness and to want to be friends again.”

“No…”

Suddenly cold, Jungkook has to sit on the bed in front of him; his hands are cold, his chest is pumping and beating like crazy, and his mind is working at such a speed that he can’t even recognise the thoughts passing by anymore. The only thing in his mind is the biggest relief at the discovery that you did not, in fact, dump him, and the gruesome realisation that this is probably the time he has fucked up the most.

“B-but you’re with her all the time!” he cries out in a poor attempt at defending himself. “And she— and she wouldn’t talk to me!”

“Well, yeah? You were the one to ignore her first!”

“Fuck!”

Jungkook buries his face in his hands and lets out a mournful groan. Now that he’s letting all go, now that he’s finally allowing himself to feel betrayed and hurt and confused, it’s when he finally realises that he was wrong all along.

“Shit…” His whimpers make Seokjin cringe with pity. “I fucked up, I really fucked up— she’s never gonna forgive me.”

The eldest sighs. “I think you’re still in time.”

“Huh?”

“You still have time now that she hasn’t stopped trying to find an explanation for your shitty behaviour. Y/N is the first one who wants to work things out, I’m sure,” Jin continues.

“She said that?”

“Uh, not exactly, but I know her, and I am sure that she wants you back.”

The consequences of his own actions are beginning to weigh on his shoulders. There had always been a fear, disguised as hope, that it had all been a mistake, a misunderstanding of some kind. Of course, Jungkook had decided to keep it inside in case he had to unlearn his grudge, but it never crossed his mind that, in the process, he was hurting you back, and that you could obviously resent him for it too.

In his mind, you had been this giant fortress all these days; an ice-cold barrier without feelings or even the ability to love or be merciful. In Jungkook’s mind, of course, everything you had done had been to hurt him and to let him know that his actual place in your life wasn’t inside your heart but dragged on the floor.

And even then, he couldn’t stop loving you.

He wants to cry, kiss you all over your face, kneel before you, kiss your hands, hug your lap, beg you to take him.

“Hey, don’t look so defeated,” Seokjin says, snapping him out of his depressing self-absorption. “I’m gonna help you, okay? I’ll help you make it up to her.”

“Why?”

But the eldest only shrugs. “She’s hurting too,” he murmurs then, “and I was your age once.”

It’s not like he’s much older than him, but this is the first time in a while someone tries to make him feel better without taking the guilt off him – he’s going to learn from this, but he won’t beat himself up over it. You wouldn’t want that anyway.

“You don’t need to do this.”

“I know,” he says, “but I want to. Besides, it’s not like you’ve killed someone, you know— and Y/N knows you didn’t sleep with that girl.”

“What?” Jungkook lets out, half-relieved.

“Yeah, she heard the rumours, but she didn’t believe them since, well, in her head you were still dating, so she asked Jimin, and he told her.” Well, it’s good to know he still has good friends out there, but he’s weirdly glad. “Try to process it: she didn’t believe them to the point that she called Jimin to confirm them. Man, she’s desperately fishing for a chance to forgive you.”

Full of renewed strength and hope, Jungkook gets up and grabs his backpack, turning to the other guy with an awkward stance.

“Thank you, uh…”

“You can call me Jin-hyung,” he jokes.

But Jungkook smiles. “Thank you, hyung! See ya!”

And then he storms off, leaving his hyung half-confused, half-amused, and a bit hopeful on the bed. Then he remembers he’s got a class to attend too, and he grabs his stuff to leave.

“Who is it?”

You got up as soon as the intercom rang all across the flat; you were wearing your ugliest yet most comfortable clothes, devouring a jar of Greek yoghurt, and naturally, not expecting any visitors. So, leaving the jar on the kitchen counter, you walk up to the entrance door and push the button.

“It’s me.” Ari is standing on the other side, as you can see through the peephole “Can you open up?”

Your heart doesn’t really have the energy to talk to her, but your brain doesn’t have the energy to even make up an excuse.

You push the entrance button. “Yeah, come in.”

The minutes it takes to enter the doorway and walk up to your landing take forever. Pressing, your heart has begun to beat, heavy, in your chest, and after a while, you regret not having hung up instantly.

“Hey, nice to see you,” Ari says when she shows up at the door.

“What do you want?” You don’t want to be rude, not on purpose, but you really want to know that. “Sorry, uh… How can I, hm, help you?”

Suddenly, Ari stifles a chuckle, and although against your will – you want to be composed and cold – you follow her, feeling incredibly awkward; a friendship like yours wasn’t made to be solemn. You’ve never been silent with each other. Angry, perhaps, or upset – but never silent.

“Sit anywhere you like,” you tell her then, stepping back to let her in.

“Thanks.”

“Do you want a drink?” you ask on your way to the kitchen.

“No, thanks!” Ari exclaims from the living room, and you peek over the counter; she’s holding up two Frappuccinos. “I brought you something, though.”

You shake your head and come back. “You didn’t have to— okay, thanks. It’s my favourite, how did you know?” you joke, and surprisingly, Ari laughs. Maybe this won’t be as awkward, and maybe it’s time to cut straight to the point. “Thanks. So… I guess you came to talk, right? What do you want to talk about?”

Ari takes a deep breath.

“I know you and Jimin talked the other day,” she says, “he told me. He also told me what actually happened…” You stare at her, expectantly. “I came to apologise. What we did was awful, even if we didn’t do it with bad intentions. The… fact that the possibility didn’t even cross my mind was very uncaring, and I think it’s a reflection of how little I’ve tried to understand your feelings,” she continues, and you stay quiet, feeling heavier and heavier. “But it terrified me, to think that you would be unhappy forever.” It’s only when her voice cracks that you let out a heavy puff of breath. “I thought that I wasn’t doing enough. Like I wasn’t caring about it enough.”

You take a few seconds to think about what to say, about what you want to say; the fact that she has finally acknowledged your feelings immediately takes a heavy weight off your chest.

But you also feel so frustrated that it took so long. You’re so frustrated that you had to literally shut down for someone to even suspect that there was something wrong with you. And you’re frustrated that you really didn’t have much idea that you felt like this until now. How hurt you are, how sad, how you long for closeness and intimacy. How you miss being vulnerable, and how much it terrifies you at the same time.

“There was never anything wrong with you,” you say. “You… were there, believe it or not. I always felt you with me, I was the one pushing you all away.” With a soft smile, she makes an attempt to stroke your cheek, and you tilt down your head. “I just… hate being so weak and having no control over it,” you continue.

“What are you even talking about?” Ari asks with a frown, still stroking your cheek. “You’re the strongest person I know.”

You roll your eyes. “Stop joking—”

“It’s true. I admire you, Y/N.”

Your heart aches and cries and sobs and shrinks in your chest out of pure excitement. You feel loved, she makes you feel loved.

“I…” And then your voice cracks, and you start crying. “I just…! Fuck, I wish I could’ve been able to handle it all. All the pain, and the heartbreak, and— I wish nothing of this had affected me this much! I’m tired, I’m literally so tired!”

“Why should you have been able to? What gave you that experience – age, hard work, life, your youth?”

“I don’t know.”

Ari scoots closer to you and hugs you, resting her cheek on your shoulder. She’s looking away, her eyes fixed on some spot in the living room; her face is blank, but you feel she’s serious.

“I’m sorry about the bet. I didn’t know any better,” she murmurs. “I’ve learned from it, though, and I’ve also learned that I have to give you space. Be there for you, if you want me back. Give away my shoulder to your tears even if it falls off. I don’t know more about life than you do— but I want to learn with you.”

You find comfort in her arms, it’s a kind of closeness you have missed madly. It’s been a long time since you last felt loved by her; seen, known, acknowledged. While she walked away after half-finding out about the bet, you pushed her even further too.

“What are you going to do about Jungkook?” she asks again.

“He still doesn’t know it was all in his head,” you say, “if Jimin hasn’t told him, that is.” Ari shakes her head. “So… I guess I’ll wait to see if he comes back asking for my forgiveness.”

“What he did was unfair, but don’t you think he deserves some sympathy too?”

You shake your head as well. “Why should I be the bigger person? Am I not allowed to be hurt? When I was a cheating bitch, oh, then everyone would judge me— but know he deserves my sympathy?”

Ari shrugs. “Not forcing you, it’s up to you whether you do it or not.”

“Even giving me the choice feels unfair.”

Then she looks up at you; her eyes watch you carefully at first, as if she was eyeing an animal, but then they soften, and a smile creeps to her lips.

“Treat him as kindly as you wanted to be treated yourself. That is your only free choice in this world.”

But your pride won’t let you. You’ve been hurt and beaten and humiliated so many times, and you were so little used to it, that your pride is swollen and wounded. It hurts just to think about giving it up and forgiving him; the mourning part of you wants him to suffer as much as he made you suffer. But then— then you think of the way he cried when he thought you had left him, and you remember that he only acts like a jerk when he feels the threat of heartbreak, and you think about how scared he must have been back then.

Then you think of all the times you have cried yourself, wondering why everyone is so cold and unfeeling with each other. Trying to mimic them. All those times you hated yourself for not being strong, that relentless you who never did anything stupid, who never hurt anyone out of fear. You were never that person.

Neither is Jungkook.

Some part of you wants him to suffer, yes. It’s the same voice that whispers that you deserve it too; all the pain and despair and loneliness in the world for not knowing any better. You’re just like him, you realise.

Does he technically deserve it? Well, no. But again, it’s true that kindness is not something to be deserving of, to earn; it’s blind. Love, too, is blind. You can’t see shit right now.

“I just need some time,” you murmur.

“Well, if it helps, I think everyone is doomed to make mistakes,” Ari says again as she gets up. “It’s hard to be perfect when you’ve got feelings.”

“Where are you going?”

“Uh, I’d better go home and get ready for the party,” she says with a grimace.

You frown. “What party—? Oh, the graduation party?”

“Yeah… It starts in an hour, and I promised Jimin I would be on time to help him choose the tie.”

“I totally forgot,” you murmur, looking away. “It’s prom-themed, isn’t it? I think Seokjin told me… Do you think Professor Choi will mind if I don’t come? I’m not feeling like going to any parties right now.”

“He won’t,” Ari replies.

You nod, and she gets her purse.

“I’ll be on my way now.” She kisses your forehead and runs back to the door. “Hit me up if you end up coming!”

“Sure.”

And now, with the door slamming shut behind her, Ari’s gone. Suddenly you’re back to being alone in your empty flat, sulking and pondering. You’re such a mess, you have no idea what to think or feel – or rather, you can’t make up your mind between being mad and relieved that it was all a misunderstanding.

What are you supposed to do with the pain, then? Gulp it down and swallow it? Pretend that it never happened, that you never suffered? But, you know, pretending has become too hard lately.

Somehow, you wander around the house and end up in your bedroom.

Jungkook must have come to take the rest of his stuff since most of his things are missing; even his platform boots, which he’d keep under your bed due to their side – and because you’d trip over them all the time – are not there anymore. His skin care products have disappeared from the bathroom, and the flat no longer smells of his body lotion. It’s as if his presence had said goodbye and closed the door behind it.

There are not too many options here, though: you can either forgive him or not. You can either take him back and punish him for it or not.

Jungkook hurt you, that is true. You were in pain because of his actions. But something inside you can’t help connecting with his pain, too; you know that feeling far too well – of not being enough, of thinking yourself to be deserving of being treated badly, of having earned the pain.

So, even now, when you’re trying to picture all the reasons why you’re angry at him, you can’t help but fish for excuses. You feel stupid, and you know yourself to be in love. Not the first fool on this planet to be either.

But, at this point, perhaps you’ve become too familiar with the pain, and especially, with the possibility of it. You’re no longer afraid of being hurt. It could be because you’re numb, but also because Ari is right: you’re stronger than what you give yourself credit for. Maybe this is the worst decision of your life, or maybe not. You’ll see— for now, you want to see Jungkook.

You get up from your bed, where you had been sitting during your reflection. Your wardrobe is right in front of you. You open it and browse through what you might wear to the party you’ve supposedly helped plan.

Actually, there isn’t anything you could possibly wear to a ‘prom’ except for a minidress and a pair of heels, and that isn’t exactly prom-like.

Then you remember when you and Jungkook looked at your high school pictures, back when you were crowned prom queen. You were wearing a long pearl-white satin dress that is probably rotting in a thrift shop box somewhere, and you had borrowed a pair of heeled sandals from your mother which you ended up breaking. She was furious.

You might not have that dress with you anymore, but it’s not like you’d ever wear that again.

God, it was ugly.

So, you grab whatever feels comfortable. You’re gonna be looking hot anyways, and it’s supposed to be for the seniors. Then you text Ari asking her to pick you up, and by the time she gets here, you’re ready.

“I was honestly so sure you wouldn’t come,” she says, getting back into the car as you take a seat next to her. “What changed your mind?”

You keep your eyes straight forward. “I don’t know… I guess this whole thing started to feel a bit silly.”

“You better vote Namjoon for prom king.”

“I didn’t know we were doing that,” you reply with a chuckle, and Ari rolls her eyes. “The greatest party planner in the world, that’s what I am. Just so you know, Seokjin was supposed to keep me posted, and he didn’t.”

“Poor you.”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, Y/N, you look nice—”

You let out the most screeching, freaked-out, and high-pitched scream when Jimin, dressed in a burgundy suit, sits up in the back seat and suddenly enters your field of vision as the coat covering him slides down his body. Truly, it leaves you on the verge of a heart attack, and you turn towards him intending to glare at him to death.

“Jesus Christ,” you cry out. “Were you there all along?”

“Yeah… I didn’t sleep very well yesterday, so I was taking a nap in the car to get me through the evening.”

You roll your eyes. “Cool.”

Jimin scoots closer to the back of your seat and hugs it. He’s wearing an aquamarine blue tie and looks as handsome as ever. He must be up to something.

“So,” he begins, and you stifle a sigh, “can we talk about Jungkook already? Or is he still taboo?”

“Yes, we can and must talk about Jungkook,” Ari says.

“Is he coming?” She nods. “Good—”

“Yes! That’s my girl!” she shouts out then, raising her free arm in celebration. “Ugh, I can’t believe this is all coming to an end! Finally—!” You stare at her, and it makes her quiet down her enthusiasm. “Finally, the consequences of our own actions…”

Jimin snickers and shrugs. “But you have to thank us; technically, you wouldn’t have found the love of your life if we hadn’t forced him into your flat.” He’s so shameless that you can only laugh at his words, though. “What? Don’t laugh! It’s true! Our brilliant plan worked! You can’t deny it!”

“Yeah, it did, it did…”

“And Tae’s idea to pretend you overheard us? Chef’s kiss,” he says then, and you glance at him.

“Don’t brag now that she has forgiven us, idiot,” Ari groans.

“Yeah, idiot.”

It doesn’t take the three of you long to reach the sports hall, where the graduation party is being held. You see a couple of students handing out ballots to everyone who enters the building, and a handful of professors, decked out to the gills, are keeping a wary eye on the area. Ari is lucky to spot an empty parking space, so she pulls in and parks the car there.

“Okay, are you ready?” Jimin helps her step out of the car, and then he rushes to help you too. “Really, you two look really pretty.”

You look down at your outfit.

“Thanks, I wasn’t sure I’d be decent looking for tonight…”

“Nonsense, you look great,” Ari says, taking your arm and walking you to the entrance. “Stunning, beautiful, breathtaking, lovely. Drop-dead gorgeous.”

You let out a chuckle. “Jeez, a ‘you look fine’ would’ve been enough, but thank you.”

“Fine? That wouldn’t have done you justice.”

You're fidgety as you walk into the pavilion; the halls and rooms are considerably darker now, colourful lamps lighted up and hanging from the ceiling. Some glitter balls blind everyone they catch with their glare, shoving their rainbow beams in their faces.

Your body gets used to the music quickly, and suddenly you find yourself doing a little dance as you survey the spacious room.

“Do you want us to leave?”

“Yeah, you can go dancing, don’t worry about me,” you reply with a smile over the music.

Ari smiles and nods, and a second later she’s dragging a happy Jimin across the dancefloor. You, for your part, continue to weave through the tide of people bordering around the floor. Your eyes search and search, hoping to find your target, but apart from a few familiar faces from class and people you remember passing in the corridors, there is no sign of Jeon Jungkook.

Maybe he’s left already. After all, the party has been going on for a while now since your friends like to be ‘fashionably late’. So, he could be back in his room right now, or even out of town for an early weekend.

Now that you think about it, this is the last place where you’d think you’d find him.

All these bodies crammed together, this music so loud you can barely make it out from their voices, all these sweaty, half-drunk people who keep waving at you and offering you a drink. This is really the last place in the world that heartbroken Jungkook would want to be.

But he came, that much you know. Jungkook was here at some point.

And you can imagine where he is now.

You rush to put your ballot with Namjoon’s name on it into the box and look for a way out. You have to squeeze yourself past some people, but you manage to get out – and get some fresh air.

“No way I would’ve survived in there for four hours.”

In less than a couple of minutes, you cross the lawn and enter the other building. You walk past the outdoor swimming pool, which is covered by a blue tarpaulin so that no idiots can jump in. Although, of course, there will be.

The lights at the entrance of the natatorium are all off. You can barely make out the lockers or the floor thanks to the little sunlight that filters through the small windows at the top. And there’s an acrid, harsh smell that kind of throws you off. But whatever, you know the place like the back of your hand, and by straining your eyes, you make your way through the corridors to the stairs.

The natatorium is completely silent by the time you arrive. The water ripples calmly, and the amber evening light floods the four walls from the huge glass panels both above and to the sides.

You make your way to the bleachers and go down the steps.

At first, you see only a tangle of metal poles, an endless vision of silver lines crisscrossing each other. For a second, it crosses your mind that perhaps you don’t know him as well as you thought you did. But then you notice a black figure in the background, hidden and crouched, and you walk up to it out of instinct.

“Jungkook?”

The boy stands up out of surprise, hitting himself on the head with one of the bars above him. Before he can even say hi, Jungkook crouches down, whining in pain.

“Oh, dear!” You rush to his side, worried, although smiling. “Are you okay? Does it hurt?”

He nods slowly. “Huh, it doesn’t hurt much… How did you know I’d be here?” he asks, finally looking up at you.

You shrug.

“Call it a hunch. It really doesn’t hurt?”

“Yeah, I’m good, really,” Jungkook murmurs then, and a soft blush appears on his cheeks. He can’t help smiling at your worried tone. He was deprived of it for too long.

You sit next to him on the floor instead. Jungkook seems to shrink at your closeness and expand towards you at the same time. Like a reactive mass, unable to ignore you – both terrified of your presence and doomed to crave it like an idiot. So, you sit down with him, and he stays still.

There are so many things crossing his mind right now; why are you here, why did you come? To tell him that he’s an asshole and an idiot and you don’t want to be with him anymore? This silence is wiping his last bits of hope out, it’s annihilating his patience and his mental stability. Can you please say something already? Jesus! Did you come here only to torture him with your silence—?

“I know all about it,” you whisper. “Baby, I know. Don’t worry.”

He feels cold all over out of a sudden.

“What?”

“How could you think I’d ever do such a thing?” you ask then, taking his face in your hands so that he’ll look at you.

Your stomach twists with anticipation, and you are short of breath. There are too many emotions mixed up inside you, and you don’t know exactly how to manage them, but right now, your top priority is Jungkook.

That’s the one thing you’re sure of; to show him that you’re still here and that it’s not the end of the world.

Jungkook’s breath hatches. “You were so upset after what happened… And because— it made sense. It made sense that you’d dump me.”

“No, it did not.”

You pull him into a hug, the tightest hug you think you remember ever giving. You hunger for his warmth, which seeps through the fabric of your clothes and into your body. He still smells soft and mellow. You tighten your arms around him, and he does the same, and suddenly you’re out of breath but so, so happy that you feel you’re about to cry.

“Y/N, I’m sorry,” you hear him murmur against your cheek.

Jungkook’s voice is low with shame. You only chuckle, pressing harder against him as your hands dance up and down his back at a soothing pace.

“It’s okay,” you reply, “I forgive you.”

Maybe you could’ve just shrugged it off, maybe that would have made him feel better. Maybe you could have responded with a sorry of your own, an apology for not coming up to him earlier, but you don’t think that’s what he needs to hear. It certainly is not what you want to say.

Jungkook lets out a soft sob and whimpers, “I was such a jerk, I— I even tried to—” Tears follow a second later, cutting him off. “Shit, I’m so sorry…”

“I know.”

“It was so childish of me—! I should’ve talked to you first, I’m so sorry I was such a jerk,” he insists.

“Yes, you should have.”

Suddenly Jungkook goes silent, his doe eyes fixed on yours in an attempt to look through you; won’t you tell him off? Won’t you scream at him, tell him to fuck off? He fucked up badly this time; he has totally ruined any kind of trust you had in him before.

“Why—? Please,” he pleads out of the blue, tears running down his cheeks, “hate me, yell at me, do something!” His heart is aching at the mere possibility of you breaking up with him. What else could your tender, understanding words mean? Only that you will spare him without much cruelty. “D-don’t just— don’t just keep talking nonsense! I was an asshole! Just t-tell me if you want me back!”

You smile softly and cup his cheeks. “Never said I didn’t.”

“Fuck—”

So, he almost had sex with another girl, and this is your reaction? Gentle smiles and tender caresses and loving looks? Do you really care so little about him?

“Yes, you made a mistake, one that hurt me,” you whisper then, “but that doesn’t mean you deserve to be hated or yelled at. And I never stopped wanting you.” It hurts to say those words, but you know it’s for the best – you know it’s your brain screaming in fear. “I love you, Jungkook. None of your mistakes will change the way I feel about you.”

You’ve never seen such a shocked, tender, endearing look before; the way his eyes widen in surprise as your words sink in, the way his bottom lips tremble, or how his body instinctively budges forward chasing yours.

“But I hurt you—”

“Yes” – your hands find his wet cheeks again – “and I forgive you.”

Your heart still aches, waiting to hear him say those words back, but it doesn’t look like that’s going to happen. So, you accept the situation and pull your hand away, but Jungkook takes it between his fingers just to stare at you. There’s this look of tenacity in them—

“Are you done, noona?”

It’s started to rain. The gentle drops falling on you become stronger and stronger, seeping through your clothes. You haven’t brought a jacket, and the dress you’re wearing doesn’t exactly do a very good job of keeping you warm. A shiver runs down your spine. It’s a pity that summer is coming to an end.

“What—?”

“Are you done with all this bullshit?” he cuts you off.

The harshness makes you halt. Any intention of being sweet and understanding vanishes, and you’re left frozen in his arms. You frown, but that’s about it; Jungkook remains silent with a stern look, one of steady passion, at your quietness. He’s adamant about tearing the pain off you.

Maybe it’s the silence, you think again. Maybe that’s why your mind keeps processing thoughts, overwhelmed by the nothingness, unrelentingly trying to find some meaning to his words – since he won’t explain himself.

A puff of air comes out through your lips, followed by a whimper, and you burst out in tears.

“Don’t—” Your breath hitches amidst sobs, and you hit his chest with clenched fists but no strength at all. “Don’t ever do this to me again, okay?” Jungkook smiles as he holds you, ignoring how your tears smear down his wet cheeks. “You were so fucking unfair! It hurt so fucking much—!”

He waits until you calm down to stroke your face with a soft gaze. “Y/N?” You look at him. “I love you too.”

Your heart aches with emotion.

“You better do.”

“I love you,” Jungkook repeats, raising his voice as it echoes through the rooftop, and kisses you on the lips, holding you tight and close, “I love you! I love you, noona! And I want everyone to know!”

“You’re such an idiot,” you let out with a soft laugh.

“Oh my god—!” His sudden exclamation makes you jump, and he sits up as he takes off his suit jacket. “Put this on, noona, or you’ll get sick. I can’t believe I didn’t notice! You must be freezing.”

You shrug. “We’re both drenched, Jungkook. I think we should get going.”

“Yeah, let’s go to my room.” Jungkook gets up first and holds out his hand to help you up. “I can lend you some dry clothes there so, you’ll be comfier.”

“Thanks— wait,” you let out and grab his hand, making Jungkook stop in his tracks. “Aren’t we, uh, indoors? How come it’s raining—? Oh, it’s the fire alarm, it’s gone off,” you realise, looking at him with an amused smile. “I swear, for a moment I thought it was raining. It suited the moment so well that I didn’t even stop to think about it.”

“Yeah, you’re so silly, noona,” he giggles.

You hug his waist and let him walk you up the steps. “Don’t lie, you didn’t notice either.”

“But it makes for a pretty picture,” Jungkook jokes. “A love confession in the rain. Wherever the rain comes from, well, let’s just take it as it is.”

An angry exclamation echoes from the other side of the natatorium; the janitor is dragging some students out of the changing rooms, and one of them throws a cigarette on the floor. That must have been what you smelled on the way up. With his third ninja eye, the old man suddenly turns to where you’re hiding, but Jungkook is quick and ducks.

“Anyone still there?” he yells. “C’mon, everyone back to the party! I don’t wanna see anybody here!”

You wait until the old man is done sending off the kids to come out of your hideout.

There is no one left in the pavilion by the time you leave; the janitor has gone to his sentry box and the students, probably scared off by him, must have returned to the main building to re-join the party.

Jungkook’s hand is tightly wrapped around yours as you walk out. Unseen by either your friends or other students, you head to the dorms in comfortable silence, cringing at the feeling of damp fabric sticking to your skin. You want to tear it off immediately, but you have to wait until you get to his room.

Once you arrive, he opens the door and steps back to let you in first.

“Make yourself at home.”

With growing curiosity, you enter his room and take a look around; you can recognise most of his figurines and posters, and his swimming cap hanging from the wardrobe door.

“I didn’t know you had a roommate,” you say, turning back to him. “Is he a freshman too?”

Jungkook looks away. “Not exactly…” At his vague response, you frown, increasingly confused. “Let’s not worry about it now, noona— you’ll see him at some point. Want a drink or something? I have juice and milkshakes—”

“I’ll settle for some dry clothes for now.”

Jungkook sticks his head out of the mini fridge. “Oh—! Shit, I forgot, yeah…”

You chuckle softly as he stands up and rushes to his drawers, looking perhaps for a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie to lend you. When he finally finds something that fits you, he gives it to you and takes out something to change into. Jungkook is still squatting on the floor, so he looks up at you when you take off your top.

You didn’t put on a bra, and your clothes were cold on your skin, so he gets greeted by the view of your hardened nipples instead.

He must have been staring since he hears you chuckle.

“You make all this fuss and still think you’re gonna hit it tonight?” you joke, tragically getting turned on.

But his face turns an adorable shade of deep red, and Jungkook looks away, either embarrassed or ashamed of his own intentions. His eyes are now fixed on the basic tee in his hands, and he puts it aside to unbutton the dress shirt he was wearing and practically peel it off his skin.

His back muscles bulge and flex under the skin-tight fabric as it struggles to slide down his back. Some of his tattoos peak from under the shirt, and Jungkook uncovers them when he takes it off, neatly folding it before realising that it’s actually going directly into the laundry basket along with your clothes. As for you, your eyes are still glued to him.

Seems like you’re no better than a man.

Jungkook is about to take off his pants when you approach him. Surprised, his body instinctively turns in your direction, hungry for your closeness.

“Let me help you with that,” you practically purr.

Although still shy, he smiles and looks at you. “Don’t you think that’s mean? There’s no need to tease me either.”

Jungkook lets you get your way despite his words; the belt buckle expertly undoes itself in your hands, and you slide the leather through the loops until it’s completely tangled in your hands. A couple of ideas visibly flash through Jungkook’s eyes, but for the time being, he is silent as his bare chest rises and falls. His breath feels hot against your face, he feels hot against your body.

You knew you had missed him like crazy all these weeks, but now you realise that you were sick with want. How you’ve longed to just have him with you again. It hurt so much to be apart.

And, surprisingly, you don’t resent him.

You thought you would, honestly; you thought you’d struggle to forgive him for making his troubles and fears yours. For dragging you down his path of self-inflicted pain. Just like it took you years to forgive Seokjin or your friends.

But, instead, you’re faced with a warm feeling of sympathy – of love. Jungkook whipped himself way more than he should have, imagined you would never take him back after fucking it up so much. You don’t want him to do that, you want him to learn and be nice to himself. For the first time in, perhaps, forever, the thought of loving someone doesn’t feel like a one-way ticket to getting hurt and betrayed but rather like a chance of being loved back.

Jungkook grows fidgety under your silent gaze, melting into a heart-shaped puddle at how lovingly you’re eyeing him. He’s restless with how much he wants to show you how much he actually loves you, and he knows you well enough to know that you’ve got something in mind regarding that.

And your instinct is to kiss each other.

Sliding your hand under his head to grab his nape and push him against your lips, you run your tongue against the corner of his mouth first. A heavy puff of air leaves him, and you take the chance to move away just a little.

His chocolate eyes lock with yours as you try to calm down. Your lips are barely touching each other, and his bated breaths fan against you.

“I adore you,” you whisper.

He feels dizzy. Jungkook shivers in your arms. “Noona—”

“Jungkook, I need you.”

“F-fuck—”

With his entire body trembling with anticipation, he sits you on the bed and hovers over you, his eyes heart-shaped as he melts into you. Those words have a grip on him, the mere sound of your voice saying them was so sweet that his heart is beating like crazy now and his brain is scrambled with affection and longing.

“Oh, bunny,” you coo, and Jungkook keeps leaving a trail of kisses down your neck, “did that get you excited?”

As an answer, he just shoves his hips against yours. His half-hard cock is clearly noticeable under his pants as he humps your clothed thigh, whimpers spilling from his mouth.

You roll your tongue over his with your hands splaying across his back in an attempt to pull him closer. Like a beast being fed, your body is relentlessly oozing hormones, drawing you to each other, quenching your need for each other’s warmth, and soothing an ache after being apart.

Jungkook lets out a puff of air against your neck. “S-shit, I’m so hard—”

“Don’t worry, baby,” you whisper as you kiss from his lips down to his chest. “Let mommy take care of you, okay?”

You notice him going tense on top of you, even if his head remains hidden in the crook of your neck. His cock twitches, too, under the fabric of his pants. The way his hands move quickly to the zip to lower it is a sign that he is not displeased; on the contrary, when Jungkook takes off his pants, shimmying between your legs, his cock is pretty red and wet with precum.

“Missed this too,” you groan between kisses as your hand wraps around his length. It’s hot, and Jungkook whimpers, sinking onto you. “Huh? Hard and ready for mommy.”

He looks up at you with his lips pressed to your neck. “F-fuck, mommy—”

You take off your skirt while he finishes pulling down his trousers, and you both get rid of what’s left of your clothes.

Your hand returns to his cock, and you start pumping him, smearing the precum with your thumb. Jungkook’s hitched breath fans against your chest, leaving a trail of kisses on the valley of your breasts – his cheeks are stained with the red shape of your lips.

“Shit, so good—” he moans. His hips stutter and buck into your hand; there’s a constant wave of pleasure going down his spine. It expands from his toes up to his fingertips, and the more you touch him, the wetter his cock gets. “Oh, God, yes! Fuck, mommy, I— I missed you too, missed you so much—!”

A moan of pure want escapes your lips. “Yeah?”

“Yes, yes—”

You cut him off with another kiss, rolling your tongues over each other and hooking your legs around his waist. With another groan, you suck his bottom lip into your mouth, and Jungkook moans.

“Bunny, I’m so wet,” you whisper to his ear as your hand picks up a faster pace.

Probably, Jungkook can even hear your heart beating loudly in your chest. The ache between your thighs only grows tighter, making your cunt drip and smear your arousal against his balls as he bucks his hips onto his stomach.

He suddenly whimpers. “I’m c-close.”

It’s easy to tell, judging by the sweat covering his skin and his dilated pupils. You love the way the engorged tip of his cock peeks from between your fingers.

“Mommy, m-mommy—” Jungkook chants then, fucking your hand. When he reaches the tipping point, you let out a wicked giggle and move away your hand, ruining his climax. “No! Please, please, p-please! Please, b-bunny cum, bunny— p-please!” he cries out as his body writhes on top of you in pure frustration.

You peck him on the lips. “You had this one coming, babe.”

Jungkook tries to calm down as he writhes over you, so you start running your hands up and down his back, stroking him with a gentle smile. His face is alight with a lovely blush, eyes glassy and locked with yours.

Hot and heavy against your palm, his cock gets even harder, desperate for the friction of your ministrations to return.

You let out a soft chuckle. “What are you doing—?”

He has begun to leave a trail of kisses down to your chest, where he finally rests his head. As his lips reach one of your nipples, Jungkook shuts his eyes and holds your breast, his breath fanning harshly through his nose. It’s physically impossible, but you shift on the mattress to fix your posture until your core is right beneath his cock.

That’s all the encouragement he needs before sucking one of your nipples into his mouth. The contact sends shivers down your spine, you’re getting impatient.

Greedily, Jungkook moves to your other tit without daring to neglect the other and flicks your sensitive nub between his fingers, kneading the tender flesh. You let out a low groan, and your hand slaps his butt out of instinct.

“God,” he gasps, completely out of breath, “I fucking love your tits.”

“Baby likes mommy’s tits, understandably.”

“Shit,” Jungkook moans again as his hips start rutting against your dripping folds, “y-yeah, baby likes mommy’s tits, mommy’s— mommy’s cunt, mommy’s e-everything.”

You look down at him and spank him again. “Getting worked up, aren’t we?”

He then sucks on your nipple.

“Been worked up since you took your top off.”

For some reason, you’re really liking this sudden outburst of confidence in him. It’s like you’re no longer ashamed of doing things to him, of wanting to do things to him; that shameless sparkle in his eyes, one of total, blatant desperation, as if he’d let you do anything as long as you let him touch and enjoy you. Like he’s truly enjoying himself this time without getting anxious about his performance.

“Thought so,” you groan. You can feel his teeth sinking into the side of your boob. “I’m worked up too, bunny, eat me out—”

“Fuck yes.”

In a second, he’s kneeling on the mattress between your spread legs, staring at your folds as if he’s never seen one before. His pupils are dilated, a certain sense of desperation taking over him; he needs to have your cunt against his tongue right now.

Peppering featherlight kisses along your inner thighs, Jungkook makes eye contact with you just to see how you begin to lose composure, pushing his head. He lets out an amused ‘sorry’ and sticks out his tongue, parting your folds and delving his tongue into your entrance. Your taste is as good as he remembers, your arousal taking over his poor scrambled brain. Your skin is so warm, too, thighs tightening around his head when he starts flicking his tongue on your clit.

“Fuck, bunny—” you groan and throw your head back on the pillow.

With your juices smeared all over his face and saliva running down his chin, Jungkook is desperate about making you come – there’s nothing else on his mind right now.

He grips your ass to shove his face on your cunt and starts fucking you with his tongue. His nose rubs against your sensitive nub, and you can’t help but grab his hair and pull with a loud moan escaping your lips.

“Shit, shit— baby, don’t stop, d-don’t,” you manage to tell him, “Mommy’s gonna cum—”

Tongue lapping your pussy like crazy, Jungkook does as told and doesn’t stop sucking on your clit. His eyes have lost focus.

“F-fuck, good boy—”

“Good boy,” he repeats without thinking.

You spread your legs even more and push your knees against your chest, hoping to reduce any distance between your body and his to zero. Jungkook gets it immediately and grabs your hips. Now he’s lifting you and drawing his lips down to your entrance more easily just to give your pussy broad strokes with his tongue flat.

“Mommy,” he suddenly whines, “I— you’re s-so wet, shit, so, so—”

“So what, bunny?” you manage to ask.

“Fuck, I could slide right in,” Jungkook says as he kisses your clit, “so wet and hot, could slide my cock right in—”

You resist the urge to moan. “Y-yeah? Think you could fuck me with your dumb cock?”

“Fuck, yes—”

“You’d spill your pretty cum all over me in a second, bunny,” you say with feigned pity, feeling breathless and euphoric as your climax starts to build in the pit of your stomach. “Your dumb bunny cock couldn’t hold it— y-you’d fill me up in no time!”

Your back arches when the ache between your legs becomes unbearable. Jungkook isn’t even bothering to wipe your juices off his eyelashes; rather go blind than miss a second of devouring your pussy. He lets you rest a bit when he goes back to fucking you with his tongue, but as soon as you’re not oversensitive, he returns to your clit with puckered lips.

“You’re going to make me cum, Jungkook—”

He just moans at your words. “Please, please, wanna have mommy coming all— all over my face!”

“So greedy,” you mock him.

That’s when you stop talking and melt into the coiling tension in the pit of your stomach; with a moan, you feel it engorge, expand across your body, and grip your very core as you come. He goes on a frenzy, slurping your arousal to help you ride out your climax.

“Fuck, baby,” you let out, “you’re— you’re such a good boy.”

Jungkook climbs up to you and smashes his lips against yours, moving away barely a few inches before he says, “Your good boy, a-always.”

With a soft, tired smile, you rake your nails through his hair.

“Mine...”

The both of you use the next second to catch your breath. It’s crazy how much you’ve missed feeling his body and his warmth, having him lie down next to you, just the chance to spoil him rotten with kisses all over his cheeks and lips. After such an intense moment, it’s nice to allow yourself to take a break to pamper each other.

“How are you doing, bunny? Hm? All good?”

“Well...” Jungkook looks away from you, and you raise an eyebrow. “I really, really wanna come, mommy—”

“Sit up,” you say, doing the same.

He sits up on his knees and waits patiently, almost like an obedient puppy, for your next order. You can see the way his pierced cock springs up against his tummy, swollen, red, and dripping precum.

You grip his hips and beckon him to lie down on his back.

“You had your bit of fun, baby. Time for mommy to take charge. Arms up and stay still.”

Doing as told, Jungkook raises his arms with expectation. You leave kisses on his cheeks, neck, and chest, licking over his nipples and quivering under your touch. Feeling a little playful, you nibble on his ribcage and continue down his happy trail until you reach his crotch. He’s leaking already but, making eye contact, you let a trickle of saliva drip on his engorged tip. Not content, however, you get more comfortable over him and spit directly on his cock.

“That’s all you get, bunny,” you groan, voice low with arousal.

Jungkook’s pupils shiver, and his mouth is parted, unable to close it. The mere thought of you spitting anywhere on him is far more exciting than he first thought.

“Quiet now?” With your thumb pressing on the barbell, you let out a quiet chuckle. “Thought you’d be babbling and whining like a bitch.”

It finally snaps him out. “Please— please, I wanna come—”

“Shut up.”

And you finally swallow around his length. Your press your head down as you feel his cock slide into your parted lips, and Jungkook sobs, overwhelmed by the feeling of your wet heat around him. His hips jerk and buck into your mouth, but you’re quick to pin them down on the bed with a glare.

“S-sorry, mommy, ugh!” Jungkook grips the sheets around his head for balance. “Oh fuck, o-oh, shit!”

Heat pools in his lower back, too much tension pent up after suffering from your teasing and ministrations. Nobody touches him the way you do, nobody turns him on the way you do, nobody makes his heart flutter the way you do.

An entire iceberg could melt against his burning cheeks. Using hands and lips together, you play gently with his balls while dipping your tongue into his slit and flickering your tongue on the barbell.

With hollowed cheeks, you bob your head up and down Jungkook’s cock, never looking away. You couldn’t miss the tears flowing down his cheeks or the way his heart-shaped pupils stare at you with the utmost adoration. He’s trying to hold back his moans when you swirl your tongue and engulf him again, but it’s to no avail because his shaky breaths slip out anyway. He’s a trembling prey under your control, waiting to be devoured.

You slide his cock out of your mouth for a second. Your lips look red and swollen, and Jungkook pictures how you looked with his cum all over them.

When you notice he’s close to cumming again, you give his tip one last lick and a peck. He whines and begs you not to stop, but you sit on his lap without taking notice of any of his words.

“Tongue.”

It takes him a few seconds, but Jungkook obeys and sticks his tongue out, unsure but totally in.

Grabbing his chin, you smirk and force him to look up at you before you spit directly in his mouth. He doesn’t have much time to process it before you’re kissing him hard, hands tangling around his neck, but you can feel his cock twitching against your inner thigh.

As the kiss grows in passion, Jungkook melts into you, no longer aware of any part of the universe that is not you or him. You suck on his tongue while getting comfortable on his lap, and your hand wraps around his length again, resuming its movements as it pumps it up and down without mercy.

“Jungkook I wanna ride your cock,” you let out in a deep breath between kisses.

He fixes your seat on top of him when something pops up in his head:

“I-I don’t— I don’t have any condoms.”

You kiss him again with your hand on his nape. “Don’t care, I’m on the pill, and I’m clean. What do you think?”

“But mommy, I’m not gonna last then,” he cries out.

“I don’t fucking care.”

You place your hands on his chest and straddle his hips. This way, his hard cock aligns with your entrance, and all you have to do is sink down onto him.

“Oh, fuck, bunny—”

His cock stretches you out with only a slight hint of pain, the good kind, as it works you open as you adjust to his size. Jungkook squints his eyes when he sees his length disappear into your body, and the contact is so raw and wet and hot and fuck, you’re dripping, you’re actually leaking arousal down your thighs, and now he’s swallowed by your warmth. He’s never going to get over this, he thinks as you bend down to leave a trail of kisses down his neck.

“I’m— I’m going mad,” he whispers. “M-mommy’s cunt feels so fucking good, wanna fill you up— until you’re leaking— ugh!”

You’ve started rolling your hips, bouncing up and down his cock. His eyes are glued to your folds, it’s really incredible the way you’re taking him. His tip bumps into your sweet spot incessantly, sounds of smacking flesh flooding the otherwise quiet room.

Jungkook tries to pound back up into you, let his balls swing against your ass as he fucks you.

“Fuck, bunny, I love your cock, it was made for me,” you moan. The pace that your hips pick up becomes brutal almost. “My bunny, my baby— mine alone, no one else’s, r-right? Say it—”

“Yours,” he struggles to say.

You kiss him again, harshly this time. “Mine… Mine to touch, to kiss, to fuck—” you grunt; your skin heats up as your climax builds in, and Jungkook can only try to survive his approaching orgasm. “Mommy’s only, t-this cock is mommy’s only. Only— only you can fuck mommy.”

He throbs inside of you instantly, his face contorted in pure pleasure as you keep bouncing on his cock.

It slides into your dripping cunt so easily, of course, you waited a long time for this; your swollen clit rubs against his pubic bone, throwing you closer to the edge.

“Slow, please,” Jungkook cries out, “slow down. Fuck, mommy, I’m— coming, Y/N, shit, shit—!”

But his sudden panic is nothing but amusing to you, who takes this chance to start riding him faster and flick his nipples between your fingertips. Jungkook lets out a shaky breath and begs you to slow down even only a bit, begs you to let him last longer, but then his breath hitches and he is no longer able to plead for mercy.

His cock twitches again, and this time his hips can’t follow its rhythm, stuttering and bucking without any control. His breathy moans turn into whines, and with one last powerful thrust down onto his length, Jungkook’s eyes roll back, and he goes still.

Jungkook smacks his hands around your hips and fucks into you, bouncing you up and down his cock.

“F-fucking Christ! Mommy! Oh fuck!”

You feel him emptying himself inside of you, and shit, it’s way better than you imagined – his cum fills you up to the brim, warm and lovely, and leaks down your inner thighs as soon as he’s done spilling his load.

But your hips never stop rolling down onto him, clit rubbing against his pubic bone in search of friction. With his doe eyes, Jungkook looks up at you, confused and frowning at the overstimulation. You only chuckle in response and bend down to get momentum, wrapping your hand around his neck.

“Not gonna stop till you make me come, bunny.”

He blinks. “W-what?”

“I’ll keep fucking you and making you come until you use the words,” you grunt and bite his neck, making him yelp, “understood?”

“Fuck, f-fuck—”

His softened cock doesn’t take long before getting hard inside of you again, rubbing against your walls. It hurts like hell, makes him squirm and writhe on the bed under your cruel lovemaking, but Jungkook feels so utterly yours, and that alone is enough to get him hard.

You stroke his wet hair.

“Don’t worry, I’m close,” you groan then. “You’re such a good boy, baby, so good for mommy… Shit, fucking me open with your big dumb cock.” He thanks you for the praise with a thrust up into you. “I love you so much, Kookie, s-so much, let’s— let’s finish together, huh? Want you to fill me up until I’m dripping with your—”

“C-can’t!”

“Why not?”

“Because… it’s wrong!” he whimpers, already teetering on the edge again.

You kiss his lips and repeat, “Why?”

“Because if I come— come inside, we’ll m-make a baby!”

Even if Jungkook, with his high-pitched voice and his trembling body, tries to warn you about something that already happened a few minutes ago, you can’t help thinking that he’s a bit too much into the idea anyway, judging by the way that his cock twitches inside of you at the mere mention.

You can’t help chuckling.

“And we don’t want that, huh? We don’t want all your cum leaking out of my cunt because you came so hard,” you grunt to his ear. “That’d be a pity, such a waste…”

His cock throbs between your walls, and you can’t help clenching around him in excitement.

“M-mommy,” Jungkook cries again, nuzzling your neck.

The ache between your legs grows again, it builds so deep you think you might cum properly tonight. You keep letting out shaking breaths as you let him help you up and down his cock, your thighs too tired to keep doing all the work. He’s practically fucking himself into you, faster and faster as the both of you chase your and each other’s climax.

“S-such a pity you don’t wanna fill mommy up, bunny. I’d love to fuck you and make you cum inside again and again.” Your nails find his bronzed chest, nails sinking into the tight, sweaty flesh. He’s so handsome. “Until you’re a babbling mess that can’t even beg me to stop.”

“I love you too—”

“Yeah?”

Jungkook has to close his eyes this time. “S-so much, I love you, fuck!”

“That’s it, g-good boy,” you praise him in a moan and roll your hips once again. “Jungkook,” you suddenly warn him, looking down at him, “j-just so you know— I’m not pissing myself, okay?”

He looks up and you as he understands. “Y-you— for real?” You nod. “Shit, yes, please, please, mommy, spill it all over me—”

“So dirty.”

The pleasure in the pit of your stomach builds and grows. You ride him faster despite the burn in your thighs, and you cover your mouth to silence any loud sounds. His cock slides into you and bumps gently against your cervix, rubbing your sweet spot again and again.

Then, your muscles tighten.

“Fuck, I’m coming, bunny, wanna do it w-with me?”

Jungkook nods eagerly, probably already on the verge too, and grips your hand before placing it on his chest, never letting go of them. Finally, with the sparkle exploding inside the both of you and a loud moan, the shockwaves of your climax grip your body, and you let yourself go, stopping the pressure and spilling all over his pubis and cock. Jungkook comes barely a few seconds later with your walls clenching around him, emptying himself inside you with his eyes glued to the clear fluids spilled on him.

He lets out a whimper. “S-stop, please, stop, that’s—”

Once you’re done milking every last drop of his seed, you slide off his cock and collapse on top of him. You feel as if a truck had run you over.

“Didn’t know you could squirt,” Jungkook murmurs, wrapping himself around your body.

“Didn’t know you were into knocking me up.”

He turns an adorable shade of red and hides his face between your breasts. First, you coo at him, but then you feel his tongue poking out and licking one of your nipples, and you tap him on the head to get his attention.

“Can’t wait for a second round?” you say. “Either that or use your hand.”

“Getting old, huh?”

Silence settles between you; as you calmly catch your breath and let your fingernails scratch his head, Jungkook gets up to grab some towels and clean you up. When he returns to the bed, he lies back down with you.

“I know the bed is small, but don’t go, please,” Jungkook whispers, gently resting his forehead against yours. As he pulls you closer, his pupils tremble, always so strong-willed. “Stay…”

However, this time, you don’t have the energy to fight him. Nor the intention – his arms feel warm around you, and his skin is ever so soothing. You don’t want him to move either; want him curled against you, talking sweetly, peppering kisses across your shoulders. But you’re tired, you can’t keep your eyes open anymore, not after such long sleepless nights and anxious days. This time, you lose the battle, and you don’t care.

There’s someone in the room when you wake up. Slowly, you regain your ability to think and spot a figure tidying a backpack with his back turned to you. It takes you a few seconds to remember that you are lying naked on Jungkook’s bed, but once you catch on to the situation, you quickly snatch the sheets to cover yourself up to your nose.

“Oh, sorry, did I wake you up?” Seokjin doesn’t turn to look at you, still focused on his backpack’s contents. “It’s okay, I’ll leave in a second.”

“Don’t worry…”

Okay, so this is Jungkook’s mysterious new roommate... Now you get why he didn't want to talk about it last night. But if they’re okay with the situation, you won't say anything.

That’s when you notice Jungkook’s heavy, overly warm body stir behind you. He’s muttering something you don’t quite make out, and soon you feel his lips kissing your shoulders as his groggy arms wrap around you.

“Good morning, noona,” he says with a smile. “Did you sleep well? You know, my ass still hurts.”

As he chuckles at his own words, you can’t help sighing. Seokjin laughs too and, finally aware of his presence, Jungkook sits up. You glance sideways at him over your shoulder smiling, amused by his soft blush. Well, at least you’re not the only mortified loser here, are you? And he’s always so cute when he gets flustered.

“I-I completely forgot you’d be here, hyung,” he mutters.

‘Hyung’? You look at Seokjin, arching an eyebrow. Since when does Jungkook call him ‘hyung’? That’s suspicious.

But Seokjin simply lets out a natural laugh. “Where else should I be? It’s nine in the morning, and some of us have things to do, you know; people to see, places to go.”

“Well, I had things to go, too, places to see,” Jungkook says then, looking at you and kissing your jaw, “people to do.” But you nudge him, making him let out a groan of pain mixed with a breathless chuckle. “I was just joking, noona, don’t get mad—”

“How come you two are such good friends now?” you ask, squinting your eyes. “I thought you’d be at each other’s throats.”

“Seokjin-hyung told me what actually happened at the flat. Sorry I wouldn’t listen.”

“You better be,” you purr in his ear, a bit louder than you should if you in fact didn’t want Seokjin to hear; “I can’t believe you’d rather listen to the evil ex-boyfriend than your poor, innocent girlfriend.”

“I might have listened to her if I had a girlfriend like that,” he teases you instead.

“You must be a very faithful man, then— begging for mercy from someone you know has none at all.”

You lean in for a kiss, cupping his cheek as Jungkook reciprocates, his eyes fluttering closed. You brush your lips against his before biting down on them, drink up his little whimper, and take the chance to swirl your tongues together. Jungkook shifts on the mattress so that he can hug your waist, his chest warming up against your skin.

“I guess that’s my clue to get out.” Shit, you completely forgot about Seokjin. “Don’t be too loud and use protection. I’ll see you at practice!” he says to Jungkook. “And Y/N, I will see you around.”

Then the door closes behind him.

“That was weird.”

But the two of you seem to have very different conversation priorities in mind.

“You know, yesterday, um, we didn’t have time to fully talk things out,” he murmurs once Seokjin is gone, lowering his eyes.

You leave a playful peck on his jaw. “Guess our mouths were too busy—”

“N-no, I mean it.” Jungkook gently pushes you away to look into your eyes. “Are we— are we going out now? Like, going out together? As in… formally dating each other?” Your chuckle makes his pupils tremble. “I mean…! I guess it’s okay if you need some time to—”

But you kiss him again instead of saying anything; you cup his cheeks with both of your hands and deepen the contact, shutting him up. The smile doesn’t disappear from your face, though, so you’re looking down at him like a love-drunk idiot when you pull away. He’s just so adorable and precious and sexy and cute and literally your everything.

“Didn’t I just say I’m your girlfriend?” you say then, still grinning. “I was kind of hoping that’d make you my boyfriend in return.”

Jungkook lets out a relieved chuckle and takes your hand when it runs down onto his chest.

“So, do you wanna stay over? We could order some food, watch a movie,” he asks quietly, still emotionally squishy because of the confession, “take a nap, anything you want.”

You smile.

“Of course I’ll stay.”

Don’t hesitate to like, reblog, and leave some feedback if you liked it! It’s always good and encouraging to know what you think <3

#stay jjk #jungkook smut #sub!jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jungkook college au #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #jungkook bts #sub!bts #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook enemies to lovers #jungkook x noona #bts enemies to lovers #bts college au #jungkook roommates au #bts roommates au

942 notes · View notes

strayywayy · 2 months

Text

Giving you what no one else could Bangchan pt-2 pt-1 pt-3

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!

Pairing: bang chan x fem!reader

Brief: You have extreme body dysmorphia and depression. Chan comes in your life as a ray of light in the dark, things take a turn teaching you what love is. You come in each other's lives' as messiahs. Love is mutual chan is helping you to his max but how do you help him?

Genre: soulmate AU, fluff, eventual smut (comes later in other chapters), light angst, lotss of comfort

Content Warning: Mild swearing, sexual themes(again comes laterr) and discussions, mentions of body image/ self-hate

A/N: This is the very first thing i'm writing in like whole of my life. This series will be shamelessly self-indulgent as I relate to this soo much. Chan makes me feel like home so this is how I portray him with my story. I have no ideas how many chapters this will have hehe.

Credits: dividers by: @cafekitsune thank you so much for the dividers these are soo pretty!!

Chan or a better name that you call him now with loads of affection- Channie came into your life when you needed someone to keep you sane at this point. It was when you couldn't stand looking at the mirror. The reflection you saw made you hate yourself even more. Your health, grades, overall functioning deteriorating gradually you looked for a solution. You tried to ignore all of this through dance as it acted as therapy for you in a way.

You stayed in the practice room hoping to freestyle your way through the day. Somber tunes played loud on the speaker your body swaying with it weightless. It was like you were in another dimension where your thinking wandered and the only thing you could do was move involuntarily to the music.

You were not aware of the presence of an unfamiliar person who was looking at you dance from afar. He looked at you with eyes full of affection and awe even though both of you hadn't interacted ever. He walked up to you slowly grooving with the flowy music currently playing. You both began dancing with each other the freestyle looking like a choreographed piece somehow. Both of you don't even realize that you've been dancing together for literal hours, not saying a word. Being so close and moving back and forth with each other only bodies communicating along with the music. Your state of escapism was interrupted by an annoying ass spotify ad as you one day subscription had ended. You cursed spotify as you went to check up on the sound system.

You returned to see chan drinking water and wiping some sweat off his body. Both standing close to each other, Chan was still in awe of you somehow. You could judge by the way he looked at you. You also in a shaken state of his beauty, the way his body moved, how he was in sync with you, how he looked at you made you go crazy and you felt some kind of positive emotion after days. He brushed off your ramparts now dripping with sweat off of your forehead. His touch triggered long slept butterflies in your stomach.

"Hi" he said with the most genuine and beautiful smile decorated with a perfect pair of dimples. You metaphorically melted by his voice and that smile. His "hi" did something to you. "hello" You replied shyly looking away from his eyes awkwardly playing with your hair. "You were amazing out there" said Chan. "No you are the one who's worthy of praise!" you compliment. Both of you standing quiet now with only tension between you two. "Thank you" both speak at the same time. You continue "for today" with a low chuckle. "Are you new here I haven't really seen you around" you asked. "Yeah.. oh.. I'm sorry we've been dancing for hours and I didn't even introduce myself. My name is Christopher Bahng, you can call me Bang chan or chan if yo-you want to. I just settled in this town and being an avid dancer I heard this is the best studio 'round here so I thought of joining". "Chan" you thought to yourself was a very pretty name but he was even prettier honestly. "Dancing with you made me feel like I made the right choice" your thoughts were interrupted as Chan spoke. His words revealed a pink hue on your cheeks very gradually along with a smile. "I'm flattered, Thanks" you said. "I'm Y/N by the way, nice to meet you. I'll see you around" you said calmly while your heart and mind was devoted to making him yours making you forget all the worries for once. You walk out the studio stopped by Chan's voice "Hey Y/N" "I hope we can become more than just acquaintances". His bold move made you stop right there to process that he had said that to you. You were hoping he'd do that and he did! Your day was well spent you thought. "Can we exchange numbers if you'd like?" he inquired. "Sure! here.." You typed on his phone as he handed it to you. "I would love to know more about you" you rephrased this in your mind that said that you would beg on your knees to know him and be close to him.

Your ride back home was peaceful all because of that man. You had fallen hard actually HARD for him and it was evident to you that he was attracted to you too. With thoughts of him clouding your brain you forgot about the things that were bugging you. You suddenly had an appetite and felt better. Did Chan use magic on you?

A notification popped up on your phone from an unknown number. "Hey! This is Chan" "Hope you reach home safe, text me when you do". You read this as you reach home. Hi Chan, i'm here" "Thanks for worrying 'bout me" you reply as you weren't used to be cared of. You always dreamt of a man who would care for you. Were you finally going to get someone? you bubbled with joy instantly saving his contact as Chan then erasing it and renaming it to Channie with a heart emoticon. The giddy feelings gave him a nickname which you will have on your tongue for the rest of your life you wished. You felt wanted, appreciated. You cried tears of joy as you had dinner, actual dinner after so long. You couldn't sleep though because you were thinking of him. How would he take care of you if you two ever became close. As you wandered around your house in the state of sleeplessness, a mirror showed you your reflection making you a bit unhappy looking at your body again. You sank into grief. Why was your mind doing this to you. Can't it handle being happy. Tired from the practice though you dozed off on the floor with tear touched cheeks.

You woke up the next morning by your phone buzzing with text notifs. "Good morning Y/n" "I'm looking forward to our practice today"Chan typed. "Good morning Chan, I'll be there in the studio by 11 am." 'Eager to practice with you too <3" you said. Besides you didn't want to only practice you needed time to adore him as much as you could. You put on a nice outfit which made you feel good. You were overwhelmed by the emotions atp. Confident you got into the car for a class you had at uni only 2 hours long. After the lecture, you picked up coffee for Chan and you. With the name on Chan's coffee being "channie". You walked into the studio where a previous session was coming to an end. You waited to have the studio to yourself and Chan. You spotted him on the sofa near the reception, He wore a black tee hugging his body rightly. He caught you staring at his biceps and broke your stare with "Hey y/n" "How are you" Again with that fucking smile which made you fall for him. He sure knew he made you like that. You handed his coffee to him with "Hi Chan" "I'm good, what about you?" with a smile. Chan unknowingly ignored your question and said "Channie huh? I like this name" reading the coffee cup. "I like you" both of you thought in your mind but these words didn't slip from both of your mouths. "Y/n you look really pretty today". You blush by his words and thanked him almost a tear falling from your eye. "Says someone whose looking like sex on legs himself" You say. He tried to hide the tint he had gotten on his cheeks by looking away. He obviously failed because you could see it so damn clearly. Proud that you could make him feel all giddy, you couldn't believe it was you being this bold with him. But with him and him only. to be continued........

#bangchan #stray kids channie #skz fluff #skz x reader #skz comfort #christopher bang #skz #stray kids imagine #stray kids #skz au #alternate universe #bang chan x female reader #bang chan smut #first post

60 notes · View notes

thetriumphantpanda · 10 months

Text

Ghost of You | J. Miller (Chapter Six)

Series Summary / Grief is a strange thing. In the beginning it had been all-consuming. There wasn’t a moment of the day where you didn’t cry, didn’t ask yourself why it couldn’t have been you instead. And no-one ever explains the guilt you feel when it isn’t anymore. When it’s just a dull ache and you can finally breathe again, when you can start letting people get close to you again. People like Joel Miller.

Pairing / Joel Miller x Widow F!Reader

Word Count / 3.3k

Warnings / Not much to warn you of here apart from some pining, discussions of therapy sessions, a graveyard but that's about it.

Authors Note / We're moving slowly but surely where these two need to be. I hope the slow burn isn't putting too many of you off but I promise within the next few chapters we're going to get to the meat of the story. If you enjoyed this then please consider reblogging, commenting or popping into my ask box with your thoughts and feelings! I love you all and thank you for continuing to support me.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

You were back in Belinda’s office. There was something about sitting there today that brought you back to the very first time you’d sat down with her. Afraid to unpack everything, sitting on the verge of tears, sobbing at the first mention of Mark’s name. It didn’t feel much different this time, tissue clasped in your hand as usual, but you didn’t think it would be Mark’s name that made you cry, you were sure it would be Joel’s.

“You seem a little distracted today.” Belinda points out, pulling your attention from staring out the window, “Anything particular on your mind you’d like to talk about?”

You let out a sign and your shoulders slump, “I think I’m confused.”

“About what?” Belinda asks.

Another sigh, another slump of your shoulders so you’re practically leaning over your knees to avoid looking at her, “Something happened,” You mumble, “With Tommy’s brother.”

“Joel?”

You nod, “He’s a friend, he’s really helped me these past few weeks, this weekend I had them all over, Tommy, Maria, Joel and Ellie and it was such a lovely day, the first time I’d felt genuinely happy in a long time.”

“Then something happened?” She presses.

You lean back, looking at her this time, she’d always told you that in order to have difficult conversations you had to face them head on, “Everyone left apart from Joel, we’d been drinking quite a lot and I asked him about his experience with grief, which was fine, but as he was leaving we kissed,” God you felt like a teenager again, explaining to your best friend how your crush had kissed you before class, “And now I’m confused Belinda, and I don’t know what to do.”

She nods in understanding, “Did you want him to kiss you?” She asks.

“I don’t know?” You shrug, “I guess I did; I think I’ve been ignoring the fact for a while that I like that he’s looked after me and that he’s one of the most beautiful people I’ve ever seen, it’s not that I didn’t want it, it’s that when I closed my eyes, all I could see and think about was Mark.”

“You know, this is entirely normal and understandable,” She’s trying to make you feel better, even if she is the professional, “When we lose someone, especially someone we know romantically, it’s hard not to compare the two people to each other, but that doesn’t mean it’s not something you shouldn’t pursue if you want it,” She notes something down on her notepad, “You do want this, with Joel?”

“I don’t know,” You groan, throwing your face into your hands, “When we were talking outside before all of this, I told Joel that I almost wished Mark had told me to move on before he died, gave me permission to be happy.”

“But you don’t need his permission,” She states blankly, “I’m going to speak very honestly with you now, I hope that’s okay?” You nod, giving her permission to go on, “Mark is gone, I know that’s painful, but we don’t know what, if anything, exists after this life, and if you continue to think of what Mark would want you to do for anything then you’re never going to be happy.”

It was inevitable but this is the moment you start crying. Up until now you think you’d convinced yourself that it might all be a bad dream, that you’ll wake up one morning and he’ll still be there, he’ll make the coffee and you’ll sit together, and everything will be fine. But Belinda is right. He is gone. Has been gone for over a year and he’s not coming back. You dab at your eyes with the tissue.

“I think Joel makes you happy, am I right?” You nod, “Well then, don’t fight it,” She sighs herself, putting down her pen, “I’m not saying run off and get married, or sleep in the same bed, but if he makes you happy then let him do that, I think you might surprise yourself with what happens.”

“But what about what everyone else thinks?”

“Do you want me to answer that as your therapist or your friend?”

“Both?” You shrug.

“As your therapist, we already talked about this, unless it’s Tommy or Maria or anyone else you’re close to, it doesn’t matter what everyone else thinks,” She pauses and a smirk falls across her lips, “As your friend? Fuck them.”

You laugh through your tears, blowing your nose into the tissue before balling it into your fist, “Listen, I’m not telling you to rush things, just speak to him, be honest about what’s happening in your head, and if he’s half the man you’ve made him out to be then he’ll understand, and he’ll wait for you.”

You stand up to leave, “You know, he already told me he would.”

She’s got her hand on the small of your back to lead you out to the front door, “Well, there you go,” You open the front door to leave when Belinda adds, “Go get your man.”

It’s late afternoon and you’re sat on the back porch soaking up the last of the sun. Finished coffee mug on the table, you’re absentmindedly running your fingers along the table.

“Oh thank God!”

You think your heart stops of a second as you let out a scream and turn to the back door, it’s Maria.

“Fucking hell Maria, a little warning would be nice!” You exclaim, clutching your chest to try and regulate your pulse back to someone who isn’t about to die of a heart attack.

“Sorry, but I was knocking on the door for ages, I didn’t know where you’d gone!”

Maria takes a seat next to you and your heart fills with guilt at the fact that you’d worried her, “I’m sorry, guess I was just in my own little world out here,” You speak, “Shouldn’t you be at the council meeting?”

“Finished early,” She shrugs, “Thought I’d pop by and see you.”

“Coffee?” You ask, pointing to your empty mug.

“I’m okay, I think I had three to get me through that meeting, anymore and I’ll be climbing the walls.”

There’s a moment of quiet between the two of you before Maria speaks again, “So, what’s on your mind then?”

You run a hand over your face, “My therapy session with Belinda has thrown up more questions than answers and I don’t really know where to start.”

“Well, two heads are better than one.” Maria coaxed.

You groan, “You cannot say anything to anyone, not even Tommy, okay?”

“Cross my heart.” She smiles, doing the motion of a cross over her chest.

You take a deep breath, “I kissed Joel.”

“Sorry, say that again?”

“I kissed Joel.” You say again, louder this time.

“I thought that’s what you said but I just needed to be sure,” She’s got the same smirk on her face that she had in the market a few weeks ago when Joel had first appeared, “And what’s the problem?”

“Maria, you know damn well what the problem is!” You snapped.

“There could be lots of problems, honey,” She soothes, “Did he kiss you without permission? That’s a problem. Was he a bad kisser? That’s also a problem. I’m going to need to know the exact problem you have in order to help you.”

“For crying out loud,” You grumble in frustration, “Neither of those are the problem, the problem is that I wanted it. I wanted it so bad Maria, and then as soon as I closed my eyes it was Mark, I was thinking about Mark.”

“Honey, of course you did, Joel is the first person you’ve looked at since he died, of course you’re going to be thinking about him, but that doesn’t mean it’s the end of the world.”

“But he deserves so much more than a woman who only sees her dead husband when she kisses him.”

Maria reaches out and gives your forearm a hard squeeze, “So do you honey, and the only way that’s going to happen is to keep trying,” Her voice is low and its sweet and you’re so overwhelmed that you start crying again, “He’s a good man, let him learn to love you darling girl.”

You lean your head back against the chair and look up into the clear sky above you, rubbing at your eyes to try and dispel the tears from falling anymore. You were tired. Sick and tired of this always being the go-to when things got hard or complicated.

“Maybe you should go and talk to him?” Maria suggests softly.

“Joel?” You asked, leaning your head to look at her.

“Well, yes, eventually, but I meant Mark,” She nods her head to the sweet peas on the wall, “Why don’t you take him some flowers and talk to him about everything?”

You had to admit that you couldn’t remember the last time you’d spent time at his grave. Up until now it had been more painful to imagine him, buried under the earth, rotting away, than it was to go and see him. Maybe this is what you needed though. He was always the person you’d go to with your problems, and although this was a different problem altogether, maybe he could still help. Maybe, in your wishful thinking, he could send you some sort of sigh from beyond the grave. The permission you needed to truly let yourself be happy again.

You nod, “Maybe I will.”

Maria smiles and stands, “I should really be getting back home, there’s mountains of documents for me to pour over, but you know where we are if you need us.”

Joel was vaguely aware that Tommy was talking to him. He could hear the usual southern drone of his accent, but he couldn’t hear a word he was actually saying.

“Are you even listening?!” Tommy pauses, breaking Joel away from his thoughts.

“Course I am.”

“Fuckin’ liar Joel, you’ve had your head up in the clouds since we started out this mornin’.”

“Yeah well, I just gotta lot to think about right now.”

“Enlighten me then, what do you have going through your mind right now that means you’re away in cloud cuckoo land?”

“You know you can be really irritating sometimes?”

Tommy grins at him as they continue their patrol together. It’s the easy route this afternoon which Joel is glad for, his knees are really starting to feel their age now and he doesn’t think that regular patrols on the hills would be a good idea anymore, “I’m your little brother, I’m supposed to be irritating.”

“You gotta swear to me you won’t breathe a word of this to anyone else, you understand?”

Tommy is looking at him expectedly, slowing his walking pace down so he can look at his brother. Joel almost wishes he would walk ahead of him, so he doesn’t have to look at his face when he admits what he’s done, but talking with Tommy about this stuff has never been easy.

“I kissed her.” Joel states simply, not wanting to beat around the bush.

Tommy stops dead in his tracks; Joel decides to keep walking. He can’t deal with the shit-eating grin he knows will be plastered on his brother’s face. He can already hear the ‘you told me it wasn’t a date’ comment.

“The longer you stand still, the later we’ll be for dinner,” Joel calls over his shoulder, “I’m not going to be happy with another meager plate of leftovers.”

He can hear Tommy’s boots hitting the ground behind him and then he’s being clapped on the back, “I didn’t think you had game anymore, big brother.”

“Would you knock it off?!” Joel exclaims, “It’s nothing to do with game, it was a stupid mistake.”

“Cut the shit Joel,” Tommy scoffed, “Everyone saw how you were lookin’ at her over that fire the other night, whatever it was, it wasn’t a mistake.”

“Yeah, well you weren’t there, alright?” Joel is regretting bringing this up altogether now, “Maybe I don’t mean that it was a mistake, lord knows I’ve wanted to for a while now, but fuck, the way she looked at me after, it broke my heart, Tommy.”

“So, she regretted it, not the first time a girl’s come to her senses with you.”

That earns him a swift slap to the arm, “All she said was that she couldn’t, not right now anyway.”

“Well then, I don’t know what the issue is?” Tommy shrugs.

Joel sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, it’s reminiscent of all the time’s Tommy had called Joel from jail to bail him out all those years ago, “The issue is Tommy, that I can’t be around her then, there’s something inside of me that just wants to do whatever I can to make all her pain go away, and the only way I want to do that is to kiss her, but I don’t just want to slot in where her husband left, that ain’t right.”

Tommy is quiet for a while as they continue walking, he, like Joel, is surveying the land, but like always, it seems quiet. No signs of infected, no signs of raiding parties. They reach the end of the patrol hike and Tommy sits against a tree, taking out his hip flask to take a sip before he hands it to Joel, who gladly takes a drink before handing it back.

“You know, you’re nothing like him.” Tommy says quietly.

“Like who?”

“Fuckin’ hell, your memory can’t be that bad,” Tommy takes another drink, “You’re nothing like Mark.”

Joel doesn’t want to pry, because then it might seem like he’s fishing for compliments in some weird way, but it’s alright because Tommy has never really been able to keep his opinions to himself.

“Don’t get me wrong, he was a good man, but physically? Completely different.” He passes Joel the flask again, “He was blonde, couldn’t grow a beard if his life depended on it, and let’s not forget younger than you, he was so small and slight, and completely hopeless with anything around the house.”

Joel’s ears prick, “But she told me when I fixed her step that he always handled that kinda stuff?”

“That’s because I did all the fixin’ and let him pass it off as his own,” Tommy shrugs, “Don’t ask me why, I guess I can see why she’s gotten under your skin, she’s the sweetest girl I’ve ever met, one of the only girls I would protect with my life, outside Maria and Ellie now.”

“Does that mean that back porch was all your work?”

“Course it was Joel,” Tommy chuckles, “He was a lovely man, nice as pie, could never do anything wrong to anyone, we all loved him, loved them together, but brother I can guarantee that there’s no way you’re just going to slot into his place, because you’re nothing alike.”

“I don’t think that’s really what I’m worried about, I just don’t want anyone to think that I think the only way to help her is to take her to bed.”

“You’ve been her friend first Joel,” Tommy reassures as he stands up to make the walk back to Jackson, “This is how things happen these days, you meet someone nice, do nice things for them and if things are meant to be, they’ll be.”

“When the hell did you get so wise?” Joel chuckles.

“Just focus on the fact that all she said was not right now,” Joel nods in agreement at Tommy’s words, “And maybe, stop acting like you’re fifteen again and just open your mouth and talk to her, you’ll never know what she really means, or feels, if you don’t.”

The sky has decided to match your mood suddenly. Gone are the bright blue skies and the sun, replaced with grey clouds that you think threaten to burst open and soak you any moment. It would be a mercy if they did, it would give you an excuse to leave and go home. It’s like the weather knows that you want to turn and run - it’s why it’s holding off on the rain.

You’re stood in front of Mark’s gravestone and it kind of feels like you’re having a strange out of body experience. You shake your head and remember the fistful of sweet peas in your hand, cut especially for him. When you look down at them, all you can really hear is that fucking southern drawl that Joel has saying that nickname. You curse him, because even now he’s front and center in your mind.

You set the flowers down on the earth in front of the gravestone before settling yourself down on the ground with your knees pulled up to your chest. Where do you even start?

“I’m sorry,” Seems a good a place as any, “I’m sorry I’ve not visited recently.”

It’s like you’re expecting a voice to respond back, a lump appears in your throat when you realise he’s not going to answer you, “It’s been really hard recently,” You continue speaking, eyes on the gravestone, “I’m trying to get back into life here, I mean, I’m sure if you’re out there somewhere you’ll know, I’ve started going back to work, and I can finally leave the house without Maria.”

A lone tears drips down your cheek, which you brush away, “I’ve even made new friends, there’s this new guy here called Joel and his daughter, Ellie, well, he treats her like a daughter, but he lost his first daughter on outbreak day,” You’re rambling, even to his gravestone, you’re rambling, “Anyway, that’s not important.”

You’re quiet for a moment because you really don’t know what to say, “I wish I didn’t miss you so much, Mark,” You sniff, “It would make this so much easier, but I think Joel might become more than my friend, I don’t even know how it’s happened Mark and I’m so sorry, I don’t feel like I’ve mourned you for long enough, but he’s a good man, he’s kind and God you’re so different from each other, but I think he might be good for me.”

There’s such a relief in admitting this to yourself more than anything, that Joel might be good for you. You’ve always been different around him, whether you wanted to accept it all not. He could effortlessly pull smiles from you, make you laugh, make you cry when he was kind to you, he’d pushed you in ways you really needed.

“I think I know you’d want me to be happy Mark,” You sniffle through tears, “But God, if you’re there, give me a sign, just give me something, I’m begging you,” You rub at your face, “Please?”

You don’t really understand what it was you were looking for. Before all this, your friends had told you that their loved ones came back as something to signal they were still around. You remember Jessica from your high school math class mentioning her grandfather came back to visit them as a bumblebee because he liked gardening. Your parents hadn’t reappeared as anything, you hadn’t noticed an abundance of anything that might signify that they were looking out for you, and this was no different. There was nothing, no birds singing in a tree that you could convince yourself was Mark.

You drop your head into your knees and resign yourself to the feeling of emptiness when there’s a warmth on your back. You lift your head and turn around. The sun is breaking through the clouds behind you and when you look around, the sun is beaming directly onto you and Mark’s gravestone. A sob leaves your lungs and the biggest feeling of relief washes over you. Maybe it was the biggest coincidence you’ve ever known, but by God you’re going to take it. The sign you’d begged for. The sign that you knew you didn’t really need. The sign that Mark would want you to be happy, and if it’s Joel that did that, then so be it.

You rise to your knees and put a hand on the top of the gravestone, lightly pressing your lips to it, “Thank you.” Is all you whisper before you’re gone.

PREV | NEXT

Joel Miller Taglist - @winwin70@jessie8605@trulybetty@amanitacowboy@morning-star-joy@tieronecrush@leeeesahhh@babeincolor@beee-haw@kirsteng42@mirandablue1@sixxslut@impala1967dwinchester@flash2412@gimmebackmysoul@kelp-dreaming@gracie7209@voteforpedro09@brittmb115@karokaroxx@amb11@heartfairy @grumpy-the-tired @Lillilotus @doctorstatic@morallyinept@southernbe@elissaa@pop-sugar102@u-luciferssatanicdaughter@alyhull@purplerain44@harryleatherfit@lovely-ateez@emilianamason @bootyliciousposts @lorilane33@casa-boiardi @cupofjoel @dinsdjrn @tightjeansjavi @cavillscurls

207 notes · View notes