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minarisplaything · 10 months

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Gala Gal ft. Blackpink Rosé

pairing: Rosé x male reader rating: Explicit wordcount: 2.8k prompt: a young journalist gets a chance of a lifetime with Rosé at a recent event.

Being a writer for a celebrity magazine has its advantages, such as getting to attend grand events like the Cannes Film Festival, or in this case, the MET Gala. Now you might think, where's the fun or excitement in that? A bunch of rich people dressed in overpriced clothing and posing on the red carpet while you have to ask them redundant questions that no one truly cares about outside a small niche of fans.

That is a reasonable question to ask, and a fair point to make. Hell, there are times when you wonder to yourself just how legitimate of a job this is. You certainly hear that question from your parents enough. But the answer to all of those questions comes from the woman currently walking towards you.

"Thank you for your time," you say to the current girl in front of you.

You have been interviewing some girl who is apparently 'the next Olivia Rodrigo,' which is a wild title to have, but you digress. As you bid her good-bye, a sudden chorus of "Rosé! Rosé over here!" erupts from the group of photographers, followed by a series of flashing light bulbs.

Your eyes flick over to the red carpet area near you to see none other than the 26-year-old starlet, Roseanne Park. Otherwise known as Rosé from Blackpink.

You have never crossed paths with her at any events you have covered; which you just toss up to bad luck or god punishing you for some crime you can’t remember. Either way, it seems like you will finally be getting your chance. Judging from this distance, she is just as beautiful as she appears in all her photos.

Her blonde hair is flowing down her back while loose bangs frame her face as she smiles for the camera. She is wearing a black dress that is form-fitting at the top, held together by two thin straps, and flares outwards at the waist. Frankly, she looks stunning. It is a classy dress that still manages to spark arousal in you. Though, you will keep that last part to yourself.

It is only a few moments later that you have to compose yourself as the press woman directs Rosé towards your vicinity. Adjusting your stance, and growing erection, you cough and put on a friendly smile as she walks over.

"Hi, I'm with Eros Magazine," you introduce yourself, managing to remain composed.

"Rosie, it’s nice to meet you," she says sweetly. She is even more beautiful up close, and that smile is practically paralyzing. Given that you don't trust your tongue at the moment, you decide to keep it simple.

"So how are you tonight?" you question, knowing how many times she must have answered it already.

"I'm great! It's a little cold tonight, but I'm excited to be here," she starts in her accented voice. "I love the Museum of Arts and supporting a good cause is always great. There are so many beautiful dresses and people here. So it's all feeling great right now!" she says, remaining smiling and bubbly throughout her answer.

For your part, you merely nod your head and smile, holding the recorder up to get every word. You go through the litany of typical red carpet questions: what projects are you working on, how's the music coming; all the typical things you could hand in to your editor when a story is due. You can see the press woman getting antsy though. Typical. Figuring you only have one or two questions left, you decide to venture out a bit.

"So, you're going to be going on tour again soon, that must be exciting..."

"It is! You're actually the first one to bring that up all night," she says, a hint of surprise in her voice.

"I do like to do my homework beforehand," you joke with a grin before continuing, "That being said, how do you manage to have fun and unwind? Even at these events, you have to keep a certain image, right?"

Rosé is quiet at first, and for a moment, she glances around as if to check that the coast is clear before she answers, "Oh, you know the girls and I find out ways to have fun. And this is actually my third year at the Gala, so I’ve found the little tricks and ways to have some fun."

There is something about the way she looks at you as she speaks that screams there is more than meets the eye to her words. Maybe it is the coy tone to her voice or the glint in her eye as she smiles. Whatever it is, you suddenly find yourself wondering exactly what ‘some fun' entails.

"By the way," Rosé says, interrupting your thoughts, "Eros Magazine...as in the Greek word for erotic love?"

Again she fixes you with that mischievous grin.

"Uh — yeah. Nice catch," you stammer, causing her to giggle.

"I like it" she says, a look you can’t read in her eye. Before you can ask anything further, the press woman begins to nudge her on to the next reporter. "It was nice meeting you."

"You too, have a good one," you reply, watching her intently as she walks away.

If that is your first and last interaction with the K-pop star, then you can say it has been interesting if nothing else. You get the feeling there is more to that little minx than meets the eye, you are only disappointed that you’d likely never get the chance to delve a bit further.

Covering the event means that you gain access to the party but hardly anyone does any real reporting. After all, these kinds of events are meant for the rich and famous. To cement their status as celebrities, they then sneak off inside to where they can have their fun. For the most part, you reporters stay together, talk, and drink the free liquor that is available.

You expect your night will be spent at the bar, winding your time down until it reaches an acceptable time to call it a night. But first things first, if you are going to be here on the company dime, you might as well get your money's worth.

"I've been looking for you all night!"

You are in the middle of ordering yet another drink when a familiar accented voice reaches your ears. Turning in your stool, you lay your eyes on Roseanne Park for the second time tonight, only this time there is something a little more...loose to her demeanor. You get an explanation when you spot the glass in her hands and briefly wonder how many she had at this point.

"Me? You must be confused," you say, both amused, curious, and a bit confused, "I don't think anyone at this party has said I’m wanted."

"Well, you are!" she says, smiling as she moves towards you, "And now that I've found you, I have something to show you."

"Don't you have famous friends to entertain?" you question more than protest as she places her drink on the bar and takes your hand.

You catch a glimpse of a hint of a pout on her features, "Don’t worry, they’re occupied." Again, there is that suggestion that something more is going on. Of course, there is the very realistic possibility that your mind is just running away with crazy, erotic theories. But that potential doesn’t stop you from being any more turned on by the thought. Coupled with the fact that Rosé is dragging you through a gala to god-knows-where and you are practically dreaming. In that moment, she could take you to hell for all you care.

"You're going to love it, trust me," she assures, looking back at you as she continues leading.

"Oh, I’m sure," you reply. Your mind is racing with things from a blow job to taking her from behind, so needless to say, you are a bit disappointed when she stops at your destination.

"A photo booth?" you ask, a bit amused at how silly it seems.

Rosé is either undeterred or doesn’t register your lack of enthusiasm as she simply nods, still smiling and pulling you into the booth.

“It's fun! Come on," the blonde insists, pulling you by the hand into the photo booth. Judging by the size of it, the booth is clearly an afterthought to the gala planners, or maybe it just isn’t meant for two people at the same time to occupy it. You do your best to squeeze yourself in so she can close the curtain behind you. To your surprise, Rosé neatly slides onto your lap, her perfect, tight ass sitting right on top of where your hard-on has been growing for the last couple of minutes.

"Alright, so it takes six photos then prints them out there," she points to the deposit box under the screen. She either doesn't feel the bulge pressing firmly against her ass, or she is very good at playing naive.

"Okay," you nod, as if you are bothering to pay any attention to the pictures.

As she shimmies on your lap to get into a better position, you decide to be bold and snake your arm around her slim waist, only to receive no complaints from the pop star. A countdown shows up on the screen, and when it says CHEESE, Rosé throws her arms around you, smiling openly as you try and fail not to look too bewildered. The screen replays your photo, and you can’t help but laugh at your own expense.

"Not bad," you grin, as the counter starts for the second photo.

"Not bad, but I think we can do better!" she says with a determined look on her face. When the screen says CHEESE again, Rosé suddenly leans over and licks the side of your face. You are so surprised you don't know how you react until the photo replays.

"Oh my god! That's great!" Rosé laughs.

You take the next few photos in the same fashion, going for ridiculous and silly in each one. After every photo, Rosé would shift her weight on your lap, rubbing against your erection each time. You are certain that she has to be well aware of what she is doing, and by the time the countdown for the last photo appears, you have made up your mind.

When the screen flashes, you turn Rosé's head to you and push your lips flush against hers. To your surprise, it takes less than half a second for her to respond, her hands moving up to cup your face. You kiss passionately like that until the simple need for air breaks you apart.

"I was starting to think all my work was for nothing," she says, a devilish grin on her face.

You raise an eyebrow at her; apparently, all your theories have just been confirmed. "You planned all this then?"

"I told you we know how to have our fun at these things," she comments, twirling a strand of hair in her finger.

"We?"

Mischief gleams in her gaze for a moment, “Maybe later. I know you’re a reporter, but you shouldn’t ask too many questions.”

She places a delicate finger to your lips as she gets up off your lap. The low ceiling of the booth doesn't allow her to stand up fully, but she doesn't have to as she crouches and reaches under her dress and begins pulling down her panties. "Fuck...these things are definitely ruined. I practically soaked them."

Her comment is more to herself than you, but your cock only grows harder at the revelation. You watch as she slides her thong down past her ankles, and her eyes fall to your crotch. With nimble fingers, she works on your button and zipper, springing free your aching cock.

"Oh wow..." she mutters, eyeing it with an animalistic hunger. "I would love to wrap my lips around that..."

"You're more than welcomed to," you groan, starting to get that sense of teasing with the amount of anticipation that is building. You are tempted to just force her head onto your cock, but you stop short when she speaks.

"Later. We don't have a lot of time."

Your disappointment at that statement is short-lived as she stands again and turns around. Rosé lifts her skirt and hovers over your lap. Grabbing hold of your member, you let out a groan as she positions it at her entrance, rubbing it for a second in her dripping juices. Unable to hold out, you thrust your hips slightly upward, causing your tip to pierce her folds.

"Mmm, somebody's anxious," she purrs, her accent coming out thick.

"Can you fucking blame me?" you say through gritted teeth, reaching out to grab her waist. Before you can yank her down, she beats you to it and spears herself on your rod. "Oh fuck," you let out, feeling how tight her petite body is.

"God, you feel fucking amazing," you mutter into her shoulder.

"Ah~...and you're...much bigger than you look," she says, clearly trying to adjust to the size she just filled herself with in one go. Apparently, the discomfort isn't so bad as she soon begins lifting and dropping herself on your cock slowly. "Try not—ooh— to get too loud," she moans out, her ass rocking against you.

"Speak for yourself," you grunt, your hands gripping her waist firmly as you start to move your hips to match the movement of hers.

You can't wrap your head around the fact that you're fucking a member of one of the most famous girl groups in the world in a photobooth at a gala with hundreds of celebrities. Thankfully, you don't need to wrap your head around it, as long as you keep fucking her. With that in mind, you take control of the pace, gripping her waist and forcing yourself up into her. Each time you spear her pussy, it's like another piece of heaven. Her pussy is squeezing you like there's no tomorrow, only increasing the pleasure you get with each thrust.

"Shit, yes, yes! Fuck me," Rosé chants in a loud whisper as she puts her hand on the console to steady herself as you thrust up into her.

"God, you're fucking tight," you moan, continuing to pound her Australian pussy. "Someone could look in here at any second."

"Oooh, I know," she lets out a shuddering breath.

"You're getting off on that, aren't you?" you continue the dirty talk, sliding a strap off her shoulder so you can push her top down to fondle her pert breast.

"Yes, yes! It fucking turns me on," Rosé pants.

For a moment, you fear she has given you away, but you're too far gone to truly care at this point. Her hands slide down the console, and you're only aware of what happens when the shutter of the camera makes you look up. Looking over Rosé's shoulder as she bounces up and down, you see your photo displayed, Rosé's mouth opened in pleasure.

Grinning to yourself, you increase the speed of your thrusts, determined to get her orgasm face by the last photo.

"OH!" she squeals, surprised by your sudden turn of action. "Oh fuck, right there. Keep going," she pants, her hand covering yours and holding it firmly against her breast.

You squeeze firmly, shoving every inch of your meat deep into her snatch. Her lithe body arches back into you. She's panting heavily, each thrust causing her to take a sharp breath. You turn her head towards you and kiss her, her hand gripping the back of your head. It's sloppy and passionate, perfectly fitting the current heated moment that is occurring.

"I'm close. I'm so fucking close," Rosé chants, continuing to grip your head as she moves her hips to yours.

A few moments later, you have to cover her mouth with your hand as she shrieks her orgasm. Her walls clench around you as she comes, her juices flooding your cock.

"I'm going to cum," you warn, knowing you aren't going to last through her orgasm.

"Mmmph," Rosé says, until you remove your hand, "In me! Cum inside me!"

You don't take a second to question it, instead thrusting your hips upward, your cock pushing into her one last time as you empty rope after rope of your seed into her womb. You continue unloading into the star for what seems like eternity until you both finally collapse in the booth. Her body heaves on top of yours as she tries to catch her breath.

"I don't think I've ever cum that hard before," you pant, causing the Blackpink singer to giggle.

"Don't speak too soon," she says, leaning back and kissing you softly on the lips. Thinking of what she could have planned only causes your cock to twitch inside her with anticipation.

One thing is for certain: this girl certainly knows how to have fun.

BUY ME A COFFEE - if you enjoy my stories considering buying me a coffee! always appreciated, never required.

#kpop smut #blackpink smut #male reader #rose x reader #rose x male reader #park chaeyoung x reader

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eddiemuonson · 8 months

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"My cherie amour" - Eddie Munson x pregnant f! Reader

Summary: You tell Eddie Munson, your best friend, you're pregnant. You don't hide from him who the father is, but considering his reputation, you were better off without him. The metalhead offers you a surprising opportunity of becoming the child's father.

Warning: TOO MUCH FLUFINESS I CRIED, sex, oral sex, mention of pregnancy. 18+ MINORS DNI!!

Word count: 5.8k

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You were sitting on the bench in the middle of nowhere of a forest Eddie Munson made sure no one goes to.

Tapping your fingers against the table, you start to shake your legs uncontrollably as you wait for him to arrive there soon, otherwise you're gonna have a stroke from waiting.

It's been only five minutes but it feels like a lifetime and it's already making you feel nauseous. That's how you found out you got pregnant after a wild night with Billy Hargrove at a party. You started feeling nauseous and then a month later your period was late.

It couldn't be worse than that. You had too much alcohol and Billy was being kind, something he almost never is like. He was treating you nicely since he noticed you were too drunk. It kinda got into you how he managed to be a gentleman.

Even after that day, but then when you told him you were pregnant he just literally... vanished. He made sure he would never bump into you anywhere. Not at the mall, not downtown, not at any party you'd go. Max made him apologize, tried to convince him to be there for you at least. But he never even made it clear he cared about it.

The way you tried to accept this pregnancy without even knowing if you wanted it made you cry yourself to sleep every night. Until you told Nancy, she was so caring and supportive. She would call you every night before you went to bed, she would invite you to stay over so you wouldn't be by yourself.

You were too far away from your family and you actually didn't want to deal with that right now. You just didn't know how to tell them you're pregnant after fucking some douche charming at a party. You're only 18 goddammit.

Then you decided you'd tell Eddie first because he was your closest friend besides Robin and Nancy, even Steve. You knew he would definitely freak out but he would support you in a heartbeat.

You slowly explained him how you ended up sleeping with Hargrove at the party, how you didn't care you didn't wear protection, because afterwards you'd take a pill. But you didn't, because you were so hammered the next day you actually forgot about it.

He listened carefully and waited until you were finished. His first response was exactly how you thought he would react. "Holy shit. Shit! Jesus, (Y/N), you fucked Billy Hargrove?".

You were thankful there was nobody around, his high pitched words were loud. "Oh my God, that is the most irresponsible and nonsense thing you could've done". Like you didn't know that.

"No, it's just bad already that you would willingly fuck him. But not wear protection and forget about the pill?".

He was standing there walking left and right, making you dizzy. "I know that, Munson". You weren't even bothered to be offended by the way he was taking it, because you knew it more than anyone.

"And he never called you, sent a letter, anything?". You shook your head. "He didn't offer to keep it?". You shook your head again.

"Actually, Max begged him to at least be there for any appointment", but he refused to. He said he doesn't care if I keep it or not.

You were lucky you didn't hear his words straight from his mouth. You wouldn't be able to carry on with this pregnancy. But you were still fighting to make it all the way.

Eddie was still in disbelief, it was clearly a fucked up situation. He sat back on the bench and held your hand against the table, giving you a warming look.

"I know this is a crazy situation and I can't imagine how incredibly shitty you must feel because of that dickwad. But you know I'm going to be here for you throughout this. You have Nance, you have Robin and even Harrington".

His hands genuinely squeezed yours as you felt your eyes burning from the tears threatening to fall. "And you know what? Fuck it, I'll do it. Just fuck it".

He grinned, but it wasn't clear to you what he actually meant with that. "Do what, Eddie?".

"I'll take care of it. I'll be the father. What's the worst thing that could happen? I can't hold a fucking baby for life, but I'll learn". He sounds too serious and it catches your breath.

Was he being serious about that?

"Eddie, what the fuck are you talking about? This isn't a play date", he chuckled by your response, waving his hand at you as he stood up only to sit next to you.

"Sweetheart, this kid doesn't have a father. I'm not gonna let you acknowledge Hargrove as this baby's father. I'm more than happy to help you get through this", he was holding your face with both hands.

His mint gum breath was fanning against you and he looked really excited about this. You were about to cry, but you weren't sure it was because of what's been happening or because of the damn hormones.

"Oh, sweet thing. Don't cry", he holds you closer as he wraps his arms around your neck. And you start bawling your eyes out because that's how it's going every single day.

You either cry or eat when you're not working. You cry, you eat, you rest and repeat. Munson got this crazy idea out of his head and it suddenly made you feel welcomed into his world a little bit more.

He was always really caring, he was absolutely the nicest person you've ever met. He never failed to make you feel better on your worst days, he would always make you laugh when you didn't want to.

"Baby Munson is gonna be so loved", his warm voice made you giggle because he looked really excited about that.

"You're already calling this child by your name?", you shake your head as you roll your eyes. "Damn Eddie, slow down with this big ego of yours".

"Fuck yeah I am. Fuck baby Hargrove, this kid is not going to be his anyway", he responded. At some point he was right, but your child would be carrying his genes anyway.

And Max would be so happy to be an aunt anyway. She just made it clear how she's going to love and take care of the baby too.

You were feeling better than you thought you would be. Actually, you had no intention of having this conversation with Eddie for him to just offer to become a father.

Not in a million years would you think he would just do something like that without even hesitating. Fuck, he didn't even think twice about that. Hopefully he doesn't regret it though.

He took you for a walk afterwards and started making plans for the baby's trosseau, which was still weird for you. But comforting, to say the least. You know he was gonna be hanging around spreading his hand on your belly all the time.

Munson is so high up on his hype he doesn't even care this is not his. He just cares about you and your baby, he cares about you and your happiness, nothing else.

He made you sit on a park with him while he was buying pretzels for both you of you. His excuse was that you need to eat and keep the child full of food. You laughed so hard at his statement, it almost made you choke.

Eddie came back holding pretzels and a bag of popcorn, which you suddenly realized you were craving for it without even knowing. He sat in front of you, watching as you gladly take a handful of popcorn in your mouth.

This wasn't a date, you think. You would always hang out with him, go to vinyl shops and listen to music with him. You would take him with you to the mall when you wanted to buy clothes or shoes and he would go with you.

He would end up getting clothes and a shit ton of other things for himself. You and him are always having too much fun around each other, even with Robin and Steve.

"Look, I know it's hard for you to know that motherfuc- sorry, baby", he cut himself staring at your belly and it caught you off guard. "This mother fudging bastard doesn't have any interest in this. But I need you to promise me you're gonna be ok".

First you snorted out loud and smiled at him. "Eddie, just being around you and the guys will be helpful enough for me. I can figure out the rest". You were honestly too hopeless because you didn't expect Billy to be so unconcerned and cold about you.

Not when he treated you kindly that day. But you guessed it was because of the booze, or he was just really trying to get above you and get what he wanted.

Munson attempted to wipe away a trail of tear sliding down your cheek, but soon you started flooding your entire face without even noticing.

He kneeled in front of you and gave you the biggest hug he could. His clothes smelled like weed and his cologne, he was warm and his curly hair tickled your nose.

When you held on to his denim jacket he knew you needed this hug more than anything. You pressed your fingers so tightly against the fabric it was squeezing your fingertips.

"Hey, I got you sweetheart", his voice was muffled by the way it was buried in your hair. "I got you. I always got you".

You spent too long holding against him, until you realized you weren't crying anymore, and he let go of you.

He used both his big hands to wipe away your tears and booped your nose, ripping a chuckle out of your mouth.

He took you home and made sure you were doing good as you were going to be by yourself. You didn't know what kind of expression you were holding but then he decided to ask you if you wanted him to stay the night.

And then he was back in your apartment after gathering some belongings to stay over. He made sure he would sleep on the couch so you could be comfortable on your bed.

Your pleading eyes from those hormones almost begged him to lay with you. "God, those puppy eyes are are the death of me", he snorted.

The entire night you didn't wake up once, if it wasn't for your bladder that started working way more than it should. First month was going fine but now it's taking an overturn already.

You asked him to stay over the next day and he decided he would just stay there for the entire week. He stopped smoking next to you, he would leave outside and do it. He was cooking for you, he would give you a foot bath at the end of the day.

Eddie promised he would do his best to make you feel better, to make you feel more comfortable around him, because he used to be so messy in his trailer. He was doing the dishes and washing your clothes.

One day you were both watching TV and he just laid down on your growing baby bump. It was pretty small given you're still like 2 months in. But the way his head rested against your stomach made your skin shiver.

You used one of your hands to play with his hair and a few moments later, you realized he was asleep as you could hear his heavy breath. This was the first time you stopped thinking about Billy too much, you made peace with yourself when Munson was around.

He didn't let you think too much about it anyway, when you were working, he was probably doing some working outside. But when you get home, he's already there, either preparing dinner or just heating it.

Eddie made his way in the depth of your heart when he started playing songs with his acoustic guitar, his husky voice singing in a low tone as you enjoyed your view. Sometimes he would just want to sing you a lullaby before you sleep.

On a Thursday morning, you had an ultrasound appointment and he insisted he was going with you. You didn't have to say no to him because that was him being the most incredible and delicate person towards you.

When he first heard the heartbeat, he almost cursed in front of the nurse, holding back his excitement. Even if he didn't voluntarily offered to become the baby's father, he would still be too shocked and too happy to be there.

Your tears were burning your face when you heard it too, it became harder to breathe when you saw the image in front of you. It was still too early yet to know the sex, but it was fine for you.

As you got home, both holding bags from a burger shop, you sat down on the couch to finally eat something. You got so excited you wanted to buy baby stuff, you had to make a nursery room for them too. It was better to do it now, before you get heavier and can't even walk.

Eddie's eyes were so shiny, he seemed to be so happy to be a part of this schedule of your pregnancy. You finished eating and decided to watch Footloose. He wasn't the biggest fan of movies like that, but he gave in, trying to give it a shot.

"You're not going to tell me you've watched it more than once, are you?", he asked as he made himself comfortable, getting rid of his sneakers, his feet socked.

You laughed as you gave him a smirk, he shook his head. "God, I bet it's because Kevin Bacon is in it".

"Nope, John Laughlin is quite a catch", you respond and Eddie throws you a cushion.

"Who the hell is this guy?". He's the one putting the VHS on while you stretch your legs on the couch.

"I have no idea, but he's hot". The way you giggle makes him shake his head and roll his eyes again.

"You gotta do something about those hormones", Munson plays with you when he sits next to you. This time, he rubs a thumb that's wrapped with a ring against your belly and you feel your skin become numb.

Yeah, you definitely gotta do something about those fucking hormones, otherwise you'll jump on Eddie pretty soon. You shake your thoughts off when he looks at you, his chocolate puppy eyes smiling at you.

He makes his way to your chin and uses the same finger to hold it. You're thinking too fast about the possibility of just kissing him for a moment, but wouldn't that be wrong?

"What is going on in this mind of yours? You keep staring at me like that", he asks. His thumb making circles against your cheek and you flush. Goddammit, you're not even disguising it. He's still looking at you tenderly.

You get closer to his face and hold his hand against yours. Munson holds his gaze while he awaits for your response. "You really wanna know?". He nods. The only way to find out if this is the right thing to do is doing it.

So you graps his lips and slowly make your way into his mouth, your tongue sliding against his teeth as he tries to comprehend your action. Eddie fully lashes his tongue against yours, giving you a warm kiss.

You wanted to deepen it but you think it's too forward, so you stay like that for a while. He then starts to quickly move his tongue, asking permission, and you accept it, exchanging your saliva. There's an iching between your legs and you have to squeeze before it becomes worse.

You broke the kiss as you gasp for air, forcing yourself to open your eyes and look at him. Eddie is still looking at you with compassion, but he's determined to wonder why you did such thing. Before he asks, you cover your face with embarrassment.

"It's the damn hormones, I'm so sorry!", your voice is muffled and he chuckles, thinking you look adorable like that. You hear his low voice saying "hey" as you look at him. He's holding your hand gently.

"That was fucking amazing", he leaves a wet small kiss on your hand before pecking your lips quickly. You start trembling under his touch and realize you need to recover yourself before combusting.

You didn't actually get to watch the movie for the hundreth time and he never got to watch it for the first time. You spent the evening kissing each other with tenderness, he never let go of your face and never made a move on you. Because above everything, he respected you.

A week later you decided it was time to let your other friends know. Nancy was so excited, she knew Jonathan would be thrilled for you since they were planning on having a baby one day. And you know how much Steve and Robin are going to freak out, along with the other kids.

You know your baby bump is starting to show off so it's easier to just tell them now. Why else would you hold that secret from your friends anyway?

Everyone was already gathered by Nancy's house when you showed up with Eddie. He couldn't actually stop his smile from getting wider and wider, which to other people, he looked like a creep. He looked like he had a hanger in his mouth actually.

You asked him to not make a fuss about it but he just wouldn't listen, would he? He whistled with his fingers and everyone looked at your direction. Now they had your attention, you started to feel really embarrassed.

"Everyone, this gang is about to welcome a freaking baby!", he said it naturally and everyone inside the room shouted "what" in unisson. Nancy was trying to hold back a laugh and Jonathan seemed pretty impressed. But other than that, the others were all shocked.

"You got (Y/N) pregnant?", Steve had a high pitched voice when he asked. You laughed so hard at the way everyone else just looked at you.

"No, but better me than Billy Hargrove", you punch his shoulder so hard he flinches. "What was that for?"

"You what?", Robin was the one yelling now. "Wait, sit down. Congratulations, honey! But shit, Billy Hargrove?".

You're so lost into all the buzz you don't know where to start. Then you take a deep breath and explain what actually happened. Max is still disappointed at her brother, but she was so happy she was about to become an aunt.

"Holy fucki-", Dustin opened his mouth but Eddie cut him off.

"We're not cursing in front of the baby!", everyone just snorted and threw cushions towards him.

"Jesus, (Y/N). You know Hargrove was always a dickhead", Steve is the one saying it, but he looks at Max. She shrugs her shoulders, she knows he's not the best catch. "How could you just fuck that guy?".

"Again, not cursing in front of a child", Eddie was playful this time and Harrington was not in the mood for that, apparently.

You made sure you wouldn't cry about it anymore. You tell them you were mad drunk and didn't remember about the pill the day after. And the day after that, it just slipped from your head. The way they reacted when Max said he didn't care about it made you feel warm.

They all made sure you were better off without him anyway, otherwise he would probably make your life miserable. And then, enters Eddie Munson.

"You just offered to be the father? Like out of nowhere?", Mike asks while the metalhead still holds a grin on his face. It might give him cramps on his cheek from smiling too much. He nods and holds you by your side, rubbing his spread hand on your belly.

"This little peanut is going to be a freaking Munson!", you rolls your eyes at his statement.

"Easy with the ego Eddie, it only gets your name if we're married". You barely finish saying it and he's already on his knees for you.

You hear everybody in the room complain about his suggestion and you snort.

"God's sake Eddie. You're such a babygirl", Jonathan jokes and he doesn't care about the mocking.

"I'm not marrying you Eddie. Or at least not yet". You're still feeling your stomach sore from laughing too much at the whole situation.

"I don't care, I'm going to get you either way". He crashes his lips against yours in front of your friends and they all make different sounds. You're amused by this, but you're still confused about your relationship with him.

You and your friends enjoy the evening listening to music, eating and playing games. They all make sure you get the priority as the pregnant one and Dustin starts thinking about names for the baby. It's so sweet to see the kids talking to your belly, mocking each other and joking around.

From the corner of your eyes, you see how Eddie can't stop staring at you, he's holding a kind gaze towards you as you smile to the kids. Max is completely melted when she talks to the baby, using her index finger to poke you slightly.

When you're next to Steve, he starts joking about the fact he can lend you movies for free now. He says he wishes he was still working at Scoops Ahoy so he could give the child all the free ice cream, for as much as it wanted and it melts you.

Munson straightens his torso when he sees the way Harrington is slipping his hand up and down your stomach, his face too close to your skin as you feel his breath fanning it. He watches as you hold your head back to laugh at something he just said.

Suddenly he feels like he could be the one to do that to you, but then he realizes he's been the one doing that for the past few days. He watches the way you hold your belly without noticing when you're talking to someone else, the way you're glowing when you talk about your pregnancy.

He can't help but smile at himself, knowing he's a part of that glow. He's not doing it because he feels bad for you, he's doing it because he loves and cares for you, maybe more so than you know.

After that kiss he's started to think about the way you've been treating each other. You've been spending so much time together it only made him feel more attached to you. By now, he's experiencing a sudden jealously looking at Steve. You don't even touch him, you just sit there and watch him talk to your belly.

Robin comes closer to you and kisses your entire stomach, she smushes your belly and you hold her head. She's being so ridiculously sweet it's irritading, in a very good way, because you just loved her so much.

The entire night you were being spoiled by everyone, even Mike was being less quiet as he would just chat with your belly. You know you were going to be sore from laughing at the way Henderson was treating you all the time, the way he was chatting with your stomach and how he would just respond back like the baby was talking to him.

You were picking some slice of pizza in the kitchen as Eddie approached you, leaning against the kitchen island. He watched as you heated the food, waiting by the microwave.

"This is amazing, right?", you ask as you lean next to him.

"Yeah, their pizza is so good I could eat it in one bite!". He knows you're not talking about the pizza but can't not joke about that. "You should see yourself. You're literally glowing".

The microwave beeps but you're in a whole other world now. He catches one stray of your hair pulling it behind your ear and your skin burns against his touch. You can't help but wrap your arms around his torso and rest your head on the crook of his neck.

You love how he smells like weed and cologne, a slight scent of alcohol in his breath makes you dizzy. You're looking up because you're shorter than him, nuzzling his nose.

"Thank you for being so wonderful to me, my cherie amour", he's feeling like he's under a spell when you say that. You always call him like that when your angry or when you're sarcastic to him.

He gives you a sudden kiss, pecking your lips slowly. Eddie makes a trail of kisses on your cheeks, rubbing the tip of his nose on your ear, where he knows you feel like jelly. He breathes out and you shiver.

He chuckles against your ear because he sure knows how to tame you. The microwave beeps again and you break the contact, leaving him behind.

"You're too fucking sneaky, Munson", you grab your plate and you give him a threatful look.

"Honey, you just cursed in front of the baby!", he mocked you and received a hand towel you tried to throw against his face in response.

You couldn't control yourself after that moment with him. You kept creating different scenarios in your head where you end up in bed with him, because that's just how you were feeling. It was undeniable to admit you were feeling things for him, not just because of your pregnancy, obviously.

You decided to hold your thoughts about him when you came back home, but the entire drive he would slip one hand on your thigh and slightly squeeze it. He would look away from the streets to charmingly smile at you.

You don't hold yourself back when you get home, when you watch him changing clothes in your bedroom you make your way to him and just take your clothes off behind him. Eddie only then notices that you're undressing when he turns over and watches you staring at him.

There's lust in your eyes and an indescribable expression he couldn't figure out just yet. It was the first time he was honestly seeing you in your lingerie and God, he fucking loves it. The way your baby bump accents with the thin waistband of your underwear around your hip makes him lightheaded.

He grabs you by the neck with one hand using the other one to grip your waist, tightly against his caloused fingertips from playing too much guitar. You moan against his lips and you feel his boxer tighten from the growing bulge. You wrap your fingers in a handful of his hair and hear him groan from the pleasure it gives him.

He gently lays you down on your bed and spreads kisses on your inner thigh, slowly pulling away your lingerie. He doesn't look at you at first, but when he does, you watch his pupils dilated as his eyes flicker when he licks your delicate skin.

You purr when he leaves a wet trace close to your folds and his cock twitches as you gasp when his tongue finally savor your core. He keeps a low pace because he wants to feel every inch of you in his mouth, he makes his way to your entrance and slowly tongue fuck you, watching with bliss the way you pull his hair by your hands.

Munson is glad he's on his knees by the bed, otherwise he would become numb from his view, watching as your baby bump rises when you arch your back.

He raises one hand to tangle his fingers with yours and licks you widely. In one sweet motion on your clit he gets to make you whine his name and he needs to take his cock out of his boxer.

God, he's tasting your folds and it's just so sweet he can't get enough of it. He listens to you hissing when he sucks your skin raw and pulls back, your throbbing clit flickers against his mouth and he feels your entrance soaking from pleasure.

Eddie mumbles against your core and you can't help but cry his name. "Oh, Eddie", he works his tongue faster this time, using the tip to play with your sensitive clit. You're so horny you already feel the heat building up so fast into your body you have to squeeze your legs, closing them around his head.

He notices your action and starts leaving a huge amount of kisses on your stomach, enveloping you with kindness, he's never getting tired of cherishing you and your bump.

He manages to unhook your bra with one hand and smirks when you roll your eyes at him, smiling. Eddie opens the drawer of his nightstand and grabs a condom. He knows it's not necessary but he wants to make this the right way with you.

He kneeling above you after getting rid of his underwear and you're fascinated by how pretty his cock is. The tip is already crying with precum, warming himself up while looking at you. He holds the protection in front of him as he's about to mock you in the sweetest way.

"I know we don't need it but", he shakes the plastic as he shows you the latex. "This is a condom. We use it for protection so we don't get pregnant".

You're so annoyed with him but his voice is deep as he places the material on his tip. "See, kid, your mommy probably didn't know about its existance. When you're here, please make sure you learn about it's significance".

He said as he rolls the protection on his length, the way you're soaking for him now is unbearable. You're still repeating the way he says "mommy" over and over again in your head and you almost miss it when he places his tip in your entrance.

He sucumbs into you so slowly it sends shivers through your entire body and you hiss at him. He leans forward to kiss you gently but you can't stop your moans against his mouth.

He pushes further into you and holds your hip tightly. You grip both his arms as you try to look at him, enjoying the moment.

"Can you talk dirty to me?", you ask suddenly. It just rolls out of your mouth. Eddie is static for a moment because he wasn't expecting it.

"I mean, I can try. You heard before, I am a babygirl", he says as he thrusts into you, hitting your cervix, and you cry. He feels his cock twitch by the sound you make and groans back. "Fuck, you're taking me so well".

You started to feel dizzy by his words, he leaned closer to your ear and you trembled under him. He deepened inside you and rolled his hips against you, making you whine in his ear. "Mommy is such a good girl for daddy".

Munson isn't really one of dirty talking, but he realizes you have a kink and you're so into it, you're probably going to cum soon. He just keeps listening to your blissful slurs as he keeps pumping you, his thick length is rubbing against your wall so deliciously.

"Fuck, you're so horny, huh? You're hungry for me, aren't you?", he sped up and you squinted your eyes, taking him enterily, swallowing his throbbing cock.

You nod but this isn't enough for him, he wants words. He wants you to whisper against his ear. He wants to make sure you're desperate for his cock. When he grabs your jawline and make you look at him, Eddie gives you a lustful kiss, his tongue quickly scraping yours. His mouth open as he moans against you.

"I didn't hear you before, honey", he demands through your lips. "You're fucking hungry for me, aren't you?". It's so vicious you just wanted to listen to him talking to you like that all night.

"Yes, Eddie", you were barely breathing as you feel your climax reaching its highest point. You're gonna come for him like you have never come before, because being pregnant made you feel every sensation to it's maximum.

"God, you're coming already. So wet, you're dripping sweetheart", he couldn't stop grunting on your ear and it made you squeeze your walls so tight against his dick he couldn't hold a gasp.

You started shuddering when you felt a shockwave of pleasure take up your entire body, your veins pumping your blood so fast you almost fainted under him. Your legs were so weak they fell on the sheets as Munson watched you fall apart in front of him.

As you gasp for air and try to catch a breath, you stare at the brown eyed man who's still pumping you, reaching his own climax. Eddie doesn't get too far from you and he gushes inside the condom, his dick throbs wonderfully inside you. He scrapes your lower lip against his teeth as he makes his final thrusts before he laid on you.

You take a few minutes to recover from the madness you've experienced, while Eddie cleaned himself up. He made his way to his side of the bedroom and spooned you, resting one hand on your baby bump again.

"Should we make this thing official? I'm not gonna lie here, I would love to live every moment like this with you. And I know it's mad forward, but this has been such an amazing week", he said as he leaned his head on the crook of your neck, smelling your scent.

"I would love to, too. But don't get too excited, the kid doesn't get your name yet. And you cursed A LOT during sex", you turn your head to face him and he's looking at you like he's about to defend himself.

"You asked me to talk dirty to you!", you chuckle at his response and he rubs your stomach. "I'm sorry, kid. Sorry, daddy will promise he's keeping it just G next time".

You can't help but kiss him all over as he pinches your sides, tickling you until you beg him to stop. For the next hour, you lie in bed, cuddling, dialoging about how you're taking this relationship to the next step.

Before you fall asleep, you realize how just his warmth makes you feel safe around him. You realize your baby is going to have a better father than it was supposed to. You're just glad you didn't give up on it before telling him the truth.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson imagine #stranger things fic #stranger things #userashe #usermaguire #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson smut fic

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comfortless · 5 months

Text

This Time Around

König + fem! house sprite reader

content/warnings: reader wears dresses, König is soft and lonely, pining, comfort & fluff.

notes: @deltrese put the thought of König inheriting a little dollhouse from his grandmother in my head whilst i was watching Arrietty and… yknow. likely not anyones cup of tea but the idea was too cute to not write out eheh. not proofread, apologies! wc: 8.5k.

She survives on drops of honey, dew trickling from the asters springing up along the brick skirt wrapped around the lower level of the house, sips of canned soup and crumbs of bread when he forgets to clean up after a dinner prepared far too late into the night. He’s far from a messy man; he keeps his house in lovely shape, but he’s weary, more tired than any of the mice undergoing torpor she’s crossed paths with in the attic.

In her own way, she’s grown fond of this giant. Not fond enough to reveal herself in full, but she’s polite enough to sweep his crumbs from the table after he’s gone to bed, spend a day patching up an old shirt of his with a tiny thorn and scraps of thread if she notes a tear in the fabric of some ugly, dark thing he wears. She’s always amazed when he notices her busywork, too. The way he will hold the shirt in front of his face with a boyish grin after taking notice of how skillfully it’s been repaired, the way he calls out, “Danke freunden!” in that soft tone of voice that reminds her of a breeze passing through a windchime.

She knows that he doesn’t truly think that anyone else is here at all; that’s just how humans were— silly things. Something strange happens and they’ll try any way that they can to rationalize it or personify whatever may have caused it. König looked the part of a rational man, but her heart seems to swell when he gives away just how superstitious he truly is.

He’s ritualistic in some ways; covers his mouth when he yawns as though fearing that the Devil himself will come scurrying out of his windpipe, the wind chimes he has hanging up on his front porch, even knocking on the wood of the dining room table as he passes through lost in thought about something. She might be, too, because she always whispers her wishes of good favor to him when she knows he’s heading off on some grand adventure in the world outside.

She likes that she can make sure he feels less alone.

The man never has any visitors, and more often than not, he’s away. She likes to imagine he visits beautiful places, climbs mountains she will never in her lifetime see the peaks of, runs his calloused hands over the sharp edges of leaves and plucks dandelions puffed with seeds to blow wishes into. She pictures him having sweet, doting friends, all smiles when he’s around. Though, she is almost certain that the reality is nothing of the sort.

She’s seen him come home with fresh wounds, blood seeping through gauze haphazardly wrapped around his side. She’s seen the look in his eye when he stares blankly at the lifeless wall for what feels like hours, breathing out long sighs as his fingers curl and loosen in repetition at his sides. Regrettably, she’s fretted over the sight of tears welling in his eyes to the extent that she’s almost dared to come out of hiding, to console him just a little.

He’s hurting.

She’s alone too, here. There are others like her, of course. Groups of them cluster in lived-in homes chattering all throughout the night, getting into any mischief their tiny hands can fall upon to prepare. Often times, when a little sprite such as herself chooses a place, the others come flocking, too— making merry, stealing from their humans in ways hardly worthy of a second glance and starting colonies in the rafters, far out of sight.

But no one else will touch this place.

The house is a beautiful thing, meant for a family. There were so many rooms that she had yet to even explore herself. Not a pet in sight to chase after her and swallow her whole. The floors are soft carpet she often beds down in on nights she can feel he won’t be returning, plush and soft and so unused to human traffic. She loves it here, even if her kind do not. She might even understand why, too. It’s so melancholic, haunted by this miserable giant with heavy footfalls and tears perpetually unshed, held back by the grace of quivering hands in a body with too many scars.

She’s tried to count them before, once, whilst he was changing in his room. She wasn’t trying to steal a glimpse of his body, no, she only wanted to see what stories he was hiding, written on flesh. Perched on a bookshelf, she watched the giant as he pulled his shirt over his head, some tight, black cloth that didn’t look cozy at all. He had a cut running from his navel to his chest, a few penny sized keloids along his ribcage. The giant’s body was pale, as though he had never at all caught the eye of the sun, the only thing making him look still-alive and healthy were the layers of muscle across the chest, bunching down to his abdomen.

A pretty sight, undoubtedly for women similar in stature to him, but to her she sees only his fluttering pulse in the vein along his neck, the shaking of hands too large, and those horribly sad eyes that shatter her heart with only a glimpse.

She had nearly been caught then, with her palm splayed out over her chest in open awe and sympathy for this poor, cursed beast. His gaze had snapped over to the appeal of small movement on the shelf only to find nothing at all; she had tucked herself behind a copy of a Ungeduld des Herzens.

That was two months ago.

He had left the following morning, a black duffel bag thrown over his shoulder as he meticulously walked through the home shutting off lights and closing doors. Except… he left two lights on this time; the kitchen and his bedroom were cast in a white glow. She thought, assuredly that the artificial suns in their glass casings will burn out by the time that he returns. She also realized how strange it is that he would do such a thing at all. The man was prone to his habits, and it welled her up with dread to think that perhaps the book hadn’t entirely concealed her shape, that he had seen her peeking out between old pages covered in thin layers of dust.

She occupied her time scrounging around for anything that may have suggested his cerulean eyes had fallen upon her, When a human catches sight, it’s best to leave as though a house sprite had never been there at all; she certainly didn’t care for uprooting from this cozy, quiet life in the presence of a man that she harbored a fluttering, sympathetic heart for.

To her relief, she found nothing of note.

— — —

It was rare for him to be gone this long. She’s lost track of the days after a quaint seventy-three. A decent meal is harder to come by when he isn’t accidentally feeding her; the cabinets and pantry are shut, and there’s absolutely no hope of her small hands prying open the big portal leading to a perpetual winter that humans referred to as a refrigerator. Dew drops, wild strawberries and blackberries get tiresome after a while, and sneaking outside is dangerous, anyway. The birds don’t think her anything more than a bug, something simple to descend upon and scoop into a hungry beak.

She gathers up a thin piece of thread and, after tossing it into the air an innumerable amount of times only to have it land in a heap at her feet, she finally manages to hook it onto one of the knobs of a cabinet where she knows he keeps brightly colored packages of store bought cookies.

Those were for rougher days, always in date because god knows the man probably had never had a day that wasn’t somewhat harrowing. She’s seen him drink jåger and munch cookies while watching the television late into the night more times than she can count.

She pulls the thread tight and takes steps backwards to fling the cabinet door wide open. It takes a lot of effort from her small size, but she prides herself on managing even without a cluster of other sprites to help her along. Her stomach rumbles when the package comes into view and she readily climbs into the cabinet, up a few cans and boxes to reach the second shelf.

The package is opened with careful precision. She’s diligent at emulating the rips and tears she’s seen on similar ones to make it look like an accident occurred on some storage room shelf. Her heart swells in utter delight as the sweet smell of sugar and cinnamon wafts up her nostrils, her mouth watering by the time she pulls one of the baked goods free from its confinement as she seats herself on the thin wooden board of the shelf with the treat in her lap.

It’s when her lips part and she lowers her head to take a bite that her ears prick to the sound of the front door opening. She missed the sounds of the turning lock, likely whilst fussing with the plastic and now… now it’s simply too late for her to haul off her spoils, shimmy down back to the linoleum floor, manage to unthread her makeshift cabinet-door-opener and shut it, leave it as though it had never been touched.

She’s never made a grave error like this. There have been close calls, certainly, but never one that set her off with the alarm of certainty that she would be discovered.

The lock clicks back into place, and there’s the sound of heavy boots being dropped to the floor before soft footfalls could be heard against the plush carpet.

… Headed straight in her direction.

Don’t come in the kitchen. Do not come in in the kitchen!

She finds herself in a tossup between petrified by her own fear and utterly entranced by the idea of being caught. Finally, after years of watching her giant from shadows and covered perches. The idea that he might crush her like a bug or capture her to marvel at like a pet crosses her mind, certainly, but a part of her wants to believe that her fondness for him wouldn’t be entirely unreciprocated.

From her perch, she can see the dark camos, the looming shadow as he trudges into the room only to stop, immediately, when he notices the little door flung wide open. He’s wearing that hood he wears often when he returns, a scrap of bleached fabric with eye holes torn out. She’s taken to stitching it more times than she can count, breathing in the scent of sweat, of strange lingering smoke as she works to fix the threading along the eyeholes. It’s difficult to make out his expression like this, but his blue eyes dart from the open cupboard to the rest of the room before landing back there.

He grunts out a noise of confusion, and she can almost hear his thoughts. He wouldn’t have left it open. The lights had been intentionally left on. That was a sign she had foolishly overlooked.

He takes careful steps toward her, so close now that only the fabric of his tight-fitting trousers filled her view. To her horror, her amazement, his knees bend and he kneels down slowly. This wasn’t the way that things should have went, she should have been more cautious. The hood comes into view all too quickly. Blue eyes widen as they land on her with that big cookie still in her lap.

“Hallo, little one.”

Ohgodohgodohgod.

He’s speaking directly to her. He sees her. He’s not afraid, yet her heart is burning with the icy touch of pure dread.

She clutcheds the pastry tight to her chest, lips pressed into a thin line as she takes a tentative step back into the shadow of the cupboard. So tense, so uncertain. She didn’t want to leave, silently willing him to close his eyes, turn away, forget about the tiny thing he happened upon stealing his food.

Instead, he stares down at her as though he had just found a will to keep living, a reason to stick around despite his bloodied wardrobe and the ever-present loneliness.

“Kleine engel… you are safe, please don’t look at me like that…”

He’s so much kinder than she had ever anticipated, his heart laid bare between the red rings of flesh lining his eyes. Her giant is nothing but gentle, cooing at her in such a quiet voice as though she were a wounded baby bird. Those eyes were filled to the brim with such wonder and hope that she couldn’t turn away now even if he was some rotten carnivorous animal.

“Please don’t look at me.”

The words fall from her lips despite her defenses lowering, shoulders relaxing and her eyes filling with that same look of hope he held.

It’s strange, how someone so massive doesn’t seem to send her scurrying for the hills. He’s huge, but that tenderness in his eyes that makes her feel comforted, reminds her of the gentle lull of streams and the sky filled with puffy clouds like castles in mid-morning.

“Ach… But you are so…”

Tiny, strange, a myriad of words hanging on his tongue, and she feels every one of them with each flutter of her pulse.

“… so pretty. Kleine puppe.”

She drops the cookie at that and it falls to the floor of the shelf with a soft thud that makes her jump in place.

The other sprites have their stories. It’s nice to sit and listen from the comfort of a canopy of grass when another passes through. They speak of the humans that they’ve encountered just as they speak of beasts, keen-eyed cats with sharp claws bared ready to feast upon those like herself. Dangerous things not meant to be associated with. Not one of them has ever mentioned encountering one that looks at them like… this, as though they were something breathtaking, something to be protected.

He huffs out a laugh at her shocked expression, his fingers drumming upon his knees as he watches her.

“I am not a ‘puppe’.”

“A fairy, then?”

She sighs, heavy and exasperated as she sorts out her dress and bends down to retrieve her meal. A pretty thing she had sewn herself from a vintage napkin, blue blossoms and thin lace.

“Are you going… to tell anyone?”

Her giant shakes his head with a laugh, and of course he does— who would he tell?

“I will keep you a secret, puppe.”

“Good, or I’ll curse you!” She warns, trying to puff her chest to seem bigger, more intimidating. She’s too cute to seem anything more than a frightened bunny, and his eyes are swimming in mirth at the sight of her. He’s like a giant child, finding out the fairytales in his books were true all along, only… not the ones about boiling folks like him down to bones to teach a lesson, just the ones where true love and sweet princesses existed.

He asks her a million things in rapid succession then— where she came from, how long she’s been here, what she’s doing, why she never came out before, how she can even exist. They make her head swim and she doesn’t answer a single one. He makes no move to touch her, doesn’t move any more than his nervous fingers and his beautiful eyes. They crease at the outer corners with each wide smile he undoubtedly has beneath that hood and her heart stutters each time like the flapping of little bird wings desperately seeking safe wind to coast in a storm.

She decides that she likes him as she brings herself to sit on the edge of the shelf, nibbling at her cookie whilst he tells her his name, that he works as a soldier— a colonel, sounding prideful despite the fact she has no clue just what that entails. He speaks to her in an energetic whisper, drops his shoulders and lowers himself further as though trying to appear her size, despite the vast disparity between their statures.

“Do you have a place to sleep?” König asks her suddenly, glancing over his shoulder as he looks out towards the den with a pinched brow. It was almost as though he expected a castle fit for her to appear from thin air, white gates and a shimmer of fairy dust surrounding it all.

“The floor is soft… sometimes between the sofa cushions, too. You’ve nearly sat on me before.”

“Nein. That will not do.”

He stands to his feet before she can protest and leaves the room. A part of her still teeters on the edge of running off, escaping before they became too familiar, and yet a more impulsive part wills her to wait as she hears the creak of floorboards beneath his feet whilst his footfalls ascend up into the attic.

She pictures the mice scurrying away in fright, just as she should, while she kicks her feet and waits patiently. The taste of cinnamon and sugar remains on her tongue as she places the remnants of the cookie aside and licks her fingers clean of sweet dust.

König returns a few moments later, a large box cradled in his arms.

“Close your eyes, puppe.”

It doesn’t make sense for her to leave herself vulnerable so soon after their impromptu meeting, and she doesn’t want to, but she does as he asks anyhow with a soft smile on her tiny face. Feels her chest pool with a mixture of excitement and fear as she hears him shuffling about the kitchen, the thump of something heavy being placed on the counter encourages her to flinch. She can hear small objects being set down carefully, the water running from the tap for a moment before the sound of something soft meeting wood fills her ears. It all quiets after a moment and she feels a gentle nudge at her side.

Her eyelids flutter open to see König’s finger gently pressed against her waist, his blue eyes beneath the dark hood fill her vision entirely. He’s so close, too close. As if sensing her apprehension, he raises his head back to look down at her instead.

“It is alright. I have a gift for you.”

König nudges her once more before she realizes that he’s inviting her to climb onto his massive hand. Her breath catches as she glances from the calloused flesh to his eyes and back.

Her kin would scold her severely if they were here, tell her she’s gone too far that there’s no way she will ever come back from this if she accepts. She stinks of human already. That’s how she justifies the way she climbs into his palm with her hands folded into the lap of her dress. His other hand curves around her, not touching, but hovering closely enough to keep her in place as he slowly rises to his full height and carries her over to the counter where he immediately allows her to clamber off before dropping his hands to his sides again.

The sight she’s met with dissolves any lingering fear she had harbored against him.

On the counter sits a wooden dollhouse, painted a lovely shade of blue, the roof a quiet shade of gray. It’s a stately thing, speaking of yesteryear’s Victorian styled homes with its vaulted roof, even a small turret beside the upstairs balcony. Expertly crafted and far too beautiful, perhaps even prettier than König’s empty home. Her eyes are welling with tears as she slowly ascends the three sturdy steps to the front door.

“You like?”

She can’t bring herself to respond immediately. She’s too caught up in this, opening the door with a gentle pull as she wanders into the house. It’s furnished in a hurry, some of the furniture misplaced, but… everything is here, as it would be in a normal, human home. A couch that seemed almost tailored for her size sits beside a little rattan shelf, a small table before it, a little hearth, a full kitchen and upstairs she finds a bedroom complete with a canopy bed. The curtains hanging off of it are blue like the outside, like the floral wallpaper adorning the dollhouse. She tests the bed with a gentle hand, marveling at how soft it was, how the sheets bunch beneath her palm.

Then, she approaches the window in admiration of all of the small details, little etchings of plant life carefully scrawled along the wood. The lock even clicks open as she pushes the little sheet of plastic framed by white to rise.

“It’s perfect,” she chirps out to her giant. “It’s so beautiful…”

“Oma gave it to me when I was a boy.” König’s reply sounds bittersweet, but his eyes are shimmering, as though the fact he had made this small woman so happy had been the height of his year, perhaps even an entire decade of his life. She’s seen him quietly weep to himself long into the night, only a breadth away from him as she tucks herself further into couch. He’s seemed gentle, less of a titan and more battered then, but he’s never seemed this sweet. “And now I am giving it to you.”

— — —

Sleeping in a bed is different. It’s quiet and soft with no worries of getting crushed by a heavy boot or threats of having a presence too large finding out about her existence. Those things do absolutely nothing to lull her to comfort as a dull the throbbing in her chest blossoms and continues all throughout the night ceaselessly. She tucks the blanket a little tighter around herself as she tosses and turns on the small mattress.

Mornings are different now, too. When König wakes, he taps at her front door to pull her from her restless dreaming. He has a ritual, expecting her to come out in one of the dresses from the dollhouse’s wardrobe rather than her scrapped clothing with a small mug and a plate in hand. He gives her a drop or two of coffee and food from whatever breakfast he’s pieced together. Sometimes it’s a cookie from the cabinet. She feels like a contented housepet these days as he leans over the counter to speak to her.

It’s painful how attentive König is. His eyes don’t leave her when she speaks and he consistently asks her if she needs anything, if there is anything that he could do to make her feel more comfortable as if he hasn’t already provided her with refuge and companionship, things she hadn’t even realized she had been longing for. As if he hasn’t already made her feel things for a human that no sprite should! Really, the way he loiters about with the stupid grin plastered across his face while she stumbles out of her abode to greet him does nothing to make the flutter in her chest feel warranted. It’s there no matter how much she turns her head away from him and barks out her warnings of curses and other mischief; gnaws at her every time she hears his laugh or he tells her yet another stupid story of things she knows nothing of.

She listens, anyway, utterly mesmerized when he speaks of rescuing hostages or tearing through men like a rampaging bull. He explains to her what guns are, shows her and lets her run her tiny hands over polished metal. She should think him violent and obscene, but the way he looks at her as though she’s all he has stifles any judgements before they can leave her lips.

It quickly froths to a point that she realizes she’s come down with a terrible crush. She worries for him after hearing his tales each time he steps foot out of the house on another deployment, rushes from whichever corner she’s occupied with hurried little steps to greet him. She lets him carry her around on his shoulder sometimes, even leans over his arm when it’s stationed on the counter just to feel him near.

She knows better, which is why she finds herself skittering through tall grass to seek another of her kind. Hoping for a reminder that she’s making too many mistakes. The trip is a short walk for a human, but takes her from morning to sunset to reach her destination, a narrow alder tree full of knotholes with sprigs of dandelion surrounding it.

“You what?!” Bellis exclaims, the very second she’s managed to spill her story and slump against a ruggedly crafted table within the trunk of the tree. Bellis’ voice was like the chirping of little nightingales, and she looks cute when she’s surprised— the other sprite’s brown eyes twinkle in such a way that it makes her think of stars falling into pools of honey.

“Yes… we spoke,” she huffs, curling her arms around her waist, her face feeling hot and her eyes dreamy. Bellis knows the look well enough, the other sprite has it every time she locks eyes with her wife, another sprite far too pretty. It’s affection, one that she graciously spares her friend from commenting on.

“It’s alright, you know… just be safe.”

“Of course…”

She anticipated some long-winded lecture of dangers, to be beaten by words targeting her own selfish wants.

Instead, Bellis only offers comfort and the hope that her feelings are not a lost cause.

“You aren’t the only one who has ended up falling for their human, you know?”

“I thought we were supposed to avoid them, not dream of them.”

Bellis giggles and drapes an arm over her shoulder as she prattles on about sprites and glamours that could make them bigger. She tells her of a couple only a weeks travels away, a male sprite and a human woman, how he feasts upon wild berries and golden herbs under each new moon to keep himself human-sized day and night for the woman that he loves. Bellis reminds her that the other sprites frown upon it out of fear for their own safety, but she also reminds her that she’s damned to live a life far longer than the object of her affection, anyhow, and that if he already knows of her existence then what’s the harm in it?

Those words fill her with fantasies about a happy life, where she can hold her giant properly in an embrace, rather than wrapping her arms around his thumb to satiate the burning affection running rampant through her.

They also damn her to heartbreak when König returns.

He comes home after two short weeks this time, rather than months and she rushes to greet him as always. König bends down on a knee, scoops her up in his palm and brings her over to the sofa where he sets her on the opposite end from where he sits.

“How was your trip?” She asks him sweetly as she plops down onto the pillowy cushion below, fidgeting with the hem of her dress in excitement. She knows what she knows now, and she truly could not wait to tell him, to give life to the newfound feelings in her chest. She wonders what König would say; would he take her on dates? Would he dance across the room with her as she’s seen sprites in the throes of courtship do before? Would he kiss her? The thought makes her feel warm again.

König, on the other hand seems perfectly composed and lost in thought. His hands are fidgeting, but this time, not with themselves. He’s holding a device she doesn’t recognize, tapping at the little screen with the same look in his eyes that she reserves solely for him.

“It was fine.” He mumbles, and for the first time he doesn’t elaborate. She looks forward to his stories. Time away from him is difficult now. It passes slowly without their morning chatter, without his stories, without the films she watches with him late into the night. He’s taught her to use the remote, sure, but it’s not the same without him towering at her side.

“What is that?”

“A phone.”

She listens intently when he explains what this strange object is, even shows her the bright screen and lets her tap her hand against it a few times as she looks at the shifting colors with wide eyes.

“I visited a friend while you were away.”

He rests his phone in his lap and looks down at her then, his interest piqued.

“There are more like you?”

“Yes, lots.” She giggles. She tells him of Bellis who lives in the alder with her wife, of how her dark hair curls and her voice sounds like the chirping of birds. König pays rapt attention as she speaks, belays his curiosity of the prospect of there being many more like his little housemate with a tilt of his head.

“I made a friend while I was away.” He gestures toward his phone with a smirk. “Pretty, like you, but bigger.”

König explains to her what a ‘dating app’ is with a look of pure glee on his face. She’s never seen him so happy, not even when he first met her. It’s not a concept she can wrap her head around, her kind just happen upon one another, sing and dance and feast together until love blooms between them. There’s no need for little, lighted rectangles when it came to courtship.

“She’s coming to visit soon.” He pauses as his phone lights up again, his eyes scanning over the message on screen as a grin spreads over his thin lips. “I will have to hide you.”

Her face scrunches in disdain at that as she rises to her feet to pad a bit closer to the hill of his thigh, spread over into the next seat. She places her palms against the rough fabric of his pants, looking up at him with an expression of sheer bewilderment.

“But I don’t wanna hide anymore — we are friends.”

The man’s smile falters a bit then, as he nods his head in agreement.

“Ja… but she will be more.”

“What’s that mean?”

“I am taking her on a date.”

König seems so happy, and yet she feels as if she’s being bitten by a viper. All of that talk with Bellis was for naught, because the human man that’s won her heart by telling her of his creature comforts, of war and sharing his meals with her has left her to have his heart stolen away by another.

Despite the way it hurts, she doesn’t find herself upset with him. He isn’t like her, and he’s been alone for far too long. She reminds herself that König deserves to be happy, especially after all that he’s done for her.

She only lets herself cry when he brings her back to the dollhouse and she sinks into the sheets of her bed.

The following morning comes and she wakes feeling refreshed before König even begins his tapping. She bathes in the little plastic tub filled with lukewarm water König had graciously fetched for her the night before from the faucet, clothes herself in one of the many doll dresses found in the little wooden wardrobe of her home. Dainty florals like the wallpaper in the little wooden house, only this time pink rather than blue.

When König taps at her door, she’s already prepared with her tiny mug and plate in hand, a smile on her face.

“Guten morgen, puppe.” He greets her with a lazy grin as he opens his palm to take her dainty kitchenware. His yawn is cute when he turns away to begin filling the liner of the well with coffee grounds. She follows after him across the countertop with hurried steps to match his vast strides.

As he prepares their breakfast, they speak endlessly of dreams, sweet syrupy things. He tells her he dreams of flowers sometimes, like the ones on her dress, and she tells him she dreams of exploring the world outside with him.

“I will carry you to the top of a mountain one day, little one.” König says sweetly as they both sip at their coffee. He doesn’t prepare it black as often anymore, often adding sugar and milk simply because he knows that she likes it better that way.

She tells him she doesn’t need to see the tops of mountains, because she already gets a perfect view when he carries her.

— — —

“I’ll be back later.”

König is dressed strangely, she notes as she watches him from the arm of the couch. He’s dressed casually, more so than she had ever seen him, which is a large statement considering the man normally roamed around his abode in nothing more than a pair of black sweatpants. Tonight, however, he’s chosen a black t-shirt with some text scrawled across it that she can’t quite read and tough denim. It’s an odd sight when she’s grown so accustomed to the bare flesh of his scarred torso and gaudy military camos unsuited for cozy, indoor wear.

The giant crouches to lace up his boots with one hand while the other holds his phone. There’s that smile on his face again, but she easily takes notice of the way his hand shakes with it in his grip. He’s nervous, but never so with her.

It’s strange that he’s more comfortable with a little creature in his home than he is with his own kind.

“Oh… your date,” she murmurs, standing up to her full height, despite how small it may be.

“Ja, my date.”

“Can we watch another movie when you get back?”

König nods his head as he approaches the couch, slipping his phone back into his pocket before gently stroking the top of her head as though she were just a small kitten.

She doesn’t like the fact that he doesn’t see her as anything more than a cute pet any longer. Sprites didn’t keep track of their ages as humans do, celebrating the day they were born into the world with silly parties and gifts, but she would hazard to guess she’s at least a century older, maybe more. This wasn’t her first home, only, in the last she had watched that family wither away to an endless rest.

König was different; she wanted him to stay, thrive, live forever here with her. A selfish, silly wish.

When she leans into his touch, she thinks of the couple Bellis spoke of— a sprite and a human woman. It could be the same for she and König, if only he saw her for what she truly was, what she was capable of being.

“Ja, little one. As many as you like.”

She watches as the door closes behind him with her heart in her throat.

König does not keep her waiting long. If she had to hazard any sort of guess, she would assume that the moon hanging in the sky had barely moved by the time he returns. She hadn’t even left the couch, lying on her back staring up at the ceiling when the front door is flung open.

If it were possible for him to somehow look more pitiable, he does in that moment as he kicks off his boots and rests his phone and keys on the table by the door. She knows without a word exchanged that she should not ask him what’s happened. The broad shoulders were slumped, his face somehow paler. In that moment, her giant seemed even smaller than her.

She sits up and presses the buttons on the remote with her entire hand as König had shown her how to do, loading up some Austrian film he had told her was his favorite when he was just a boy. He offers her a lazy smile as he carefully places himself a respectful distance away and leans back into the couch. The movie plays while she occasionally speaks up to ask him what certain words mean, and he patiently teaches her, seeming thankful for the distraction she eagerly provides.

She doesn’t wake in her small house, in her tiny bed, this time, instead pressed against his thigh with his hand draped over her in the world’s heaviest blanket. When she raises her head up to look at him, peacefully resting with his head tilted against the back of the couch, jaw slack and dark lashes fluttering she makes a firm decision.

The golden herbs and berries Bellis had mentioned were on the far side of the forest. A long, dangerous trek, especially for someone who didn’t know the way. Rousing a mouse to treat as a steed could work, but the urgency caused her to fret. She wanted to meet his gaze and not fear stumbling back with each exhale of his breath, to be strong and capable enough to make her giant somehow feel as safe as he made her feel. There was no time to befriend a mouse and train it proper, not if she intended to do this before the new moon came and went.

She slips from beneath König’s limp palm, off of the sofa and out the small gap in the window to set off.

— — —

The early morning is alive with the chirping of birds, the rustling of leaves and calls of strange animals a distance away when she makes it outdoors. She shields herself beneath a broad fallen leaf, hunkering down to soil any time anything soars or wanders too close for her liking. Morning dew chills her to her bones, and she has herself convinced that after all of this she will most certainly craft herself a coat, perhaps one made out of a sleeve from one of König’s old shirts. He would allow it, she’s certain. The thought of him even wasting a day away to help her fills her up with another warmth to carry on.

Her little dress is filthy before she even makes it out of the yard.

Tall grass quickly morphs into a forested trail, the trees so vast and tall, filled with the chattering and singing of others. She waves to some of them, turns her nose up at a few that beckon her to join their little communes hidden beneath layers of tree bark and moss. She spots a red fox chasing after another in the midst of play, they chitter and whine as they topple over one another before bounding off into the brush.

When the sun completes a lazy crawl high up into the sky, it’s rays of warmth beaming down on to the back of the leaf, warming her fingers as they curl over it to keep it in place, she knows she should stop and rest. Tucked away in the shade of a small mulberry bush, she shoos away a vibrantly colored caterpillar before cleaning off one of the berries with a handkerchief she finds in the pocket of her dress. A small lunch that simply leaves her wishing for König’s breakfasts instead, always warm and filled with moments of soft laughter.

She wonders what he’s spending his time doing now, almost feeling a pang of guilt for leaving him after what had assuredly been a terrible outing with a woman he had admired. Did he miss her? Was he thinking of her, too? Searching through his bookshelf and beneath his couch in an effort to find her? She hoped so.

Her journey ends when night finally comes about. The moon above is a mere sliver, but it’s enough to frame the clusters of goldenrod in a soft, white glow amidst a sea of inky darkness. She cheers in utter delight when she realizes she’s made it, that despite no map or guides her senses were keen enough to carry her on the right path. She carefully gathers a few clippings, dropping them into a neat pile before seeking out the strange berries Bellis had told her about. Her thoughts are flooded by the idea of how she and König will dance, how she will tell him in a voice as loud as his own that she’s fallen head over heels for him and that perhaps, he can even teach her to use one of his many weapons before they clamber onto the couch snug and warm to talk throughout a film.

Those thoughts keep her warm when she beds down in a nest of wild grasses.

The next night fills her with excitement. The sky is darker with the new moon hanging up above, only pinpricks of starlight break through the dark. She pictured herself human sized as she performs her little ritual, feasting on berries and swaying with a sprig of goldenrod in a little dance before she bites down into it to. There are other sprites here, doing the same. Some get bigger to move or for silly things such as being able to shop in human markets or taste meat for the first time. They sing and giggle just as she does, and she sees the face flush with love of the one she knew Bellis had spoken of. It lasts the entire night, and she’s far too excited to sleep or stay out when all is done.

She doesn’t know when she’ll change shape, not having thought to even ask, but the sight of the other sprites had solidified her belief that it would come to pass.

The way back feels far shorter than the way forward. She finds herself back in the yard just as the sky settles into mottled purples and orange and puffy white clouds. The smile on her face makes her cheeks hurt, and her chest and legs ache from exertion, but she treks on until she meets the brick foundation of the house. With and arm raised and a foot dig into the firm clay, she begins to climb up towards the window still left slightly ajar.

Only, she feels a warmth at her side that tosses her back into the grass steps away. It pulls her breath from her lungs and it takes a moment for her to force herself back up into a crouch and her vision to cease its swimming. She’s always found cats to be cute from a distance away, all soft fur and pleasant sounds. The one before her, however seems menacing, its claws are bared and its pupils blown as his mouth hangs open to scent. The orange of its fur is like fire, the yellow of irises like the sun itself.

This thing was going to kill her, she knew it before she even caught sight of the way claws had slashed through the side of her dirty dress leaving shallow gashes in her flesh.

The cat rears back, shifting on its haunches in preparation to pounce as she wails out König’s name in a near-silent prayer that he would come rescue her from this adorable little murderer.

The cat is caught in arms the size of trees mid-leap. It yowls for a moment before a hand gently begins to stroke the fiery fur behind its ears. Her giant coos to the little beast, and the vibration of a soft purr could be heard as she dusts herself off and stands.

“Are you alright, little one?”

His voice is sweet as he carefully sets the cat back into the grass and scoops her up instead. She looks pitiful— dirty, injured and panting as though she’s just escaped Hell itself. König’s expression grows horribly concerned before she can even catch her breath enough to respond.

“I’m okay,” she mumbles as she rests her weary head on the palm that feels more like rough stone than living flesh. “I was only gone for two nights, did you have to get a pet?”

König laughs at that, shaking his head as he takes her back inside the house with metered steps.

“Nein, I did not. He’s the neighbor’s.”

He shuts the door behind him, taking care to ensure the scruffy feline didn’t sneak inside.

“Let’s clean you up, hm?”

The man offers her a human bandage for the scrape along her waist before she wanders into the dollhouse to bathe, dress the wound and change into something less dirty.

After everything, she finds herself utterly exhausted. She tells König good night wishes, but her giant is hellbent on keeping her in his sight. After a close call like that, she doesn’t protest when he tells her they should sleep on the couch again instead. It’s safer, and after two days apart there’s little more that she wants than to be close to him, tucked under his palm eternally safe. König only gets through the start of a story before she’s fallen asleep curled against the side of his thigh. It doesn’t take long for the giant to follow suit, either. His soft snoring is present in her dreaming, a gentle sound accompanying the breeze of wind through a field of lavender where they sit hand-in-hand.

— — —

König does not wake her with gentle tapping the next morning. Instead, it’s a bark of surprise that jolts her from her sleeping. Her vision is blurry when her eyelids flutter. She can make out the view of the coffee table, the television beyond it, and somehow it feels wrong. She was accustomed to straining her neck to look up at things, yet seeing them now she doesn’t need to at all. In fact, it feels stranger when she notes her head is no longer resting on the cushion of the couch below, but on a broad shoulder layered in muscle instead.

König is staring at her as though he’s just encountered a ghoul. In fact, he’s trembling too. His reaction is enough to prompt her to shrink back, away from him and retreat to the arm of the couch. Only, she can’t fit the entirety of herself there as easily as she had many times before. Her legs are much too long, and making her ascent only brings her hands into view. She holds one to her face and marvels at it before her gaze trails down, down and she notices she’s nude. The little dress she had been wearing was no more than a tattered and torn mess on the couch beside König, who’s still gawking at her.

He turns his head away rigidly after a moment while she sits bewildered by her change in shape. The man returns after a beat with a large t-shirt and a pair of his boxers in hand, thrusting them towards her graciously as he keeps his face turned away. She can make out the red tint on his cheeks, the way his lips part only to slam shut when words fail him and she laughs full and giddy as she slips his clothing on and stands up to twirl about the room.

“It worked!”

Her voice sounds strange even to her own ears now. Shouting from her regular stature still resulted in a mere whisper, yet this… along with seeing all she can hear all. Just as he does, she sounds of rustling wind chimes.

She reaches for his hand to pull him along in her rhythmless swaying, and he obliges with a sigh and a shake of his head. König’s grinning, though. Even more so than when he wasted his time tapping away at the phone screen. He looks happier than she’s ever seen him as he clumsily shuffles with her.

“Little one… what did you do?”

He’s still a fair bit bigger than her, but she stands the height she feels as though she should. Her giant is still a giant no matter what silly magic she uses, but it’s fine, because he’s not looking at her as a tiny doll anymore, but in utter amazement instead. The way his pulse races and his pale cheeks burn crimson isn’t lost on her.

She explains to him just what the other sprite told her, tells him about the one she saw so in love with a human woman he did the same each month to keep himself more her size too. König halts her movement as he tugs her against him and pulls her into an embrace, the very thing she’s yearned for since the afternoon they began to speak. She knows he’s confused and entirely confused, but he bends to rest his chin on the crown of her head and squeezes her so tightly that she knows he’s grateful for this small miracle too.

She helps König prepare breakfast this time. Having watched him ready his coffee pot dozens of times by now, she knows how to operate the small, black machine. She prepared the toast too, with a gratuitous sweep of jam over each slice of the warm bread. König is still overly gentle with her, keeping his distance and not resting his hands on her unless it’s required or she prompts it. She does, often intertwine her fingers with his even as they eat, which earns her a shy smile and a gentle squeeze each time. Her giant isn’t nervous with her, their conversations are the same. He tells her that she’s pretty as often as before, cups a steady hand on her shoulder when she reaches out to embrace him after their meal.

She thinks ahead and leads König into the forest to gather a plethora of golden herb and berries to stuff into the winter box for the next time she will need to perform her little ritual, and he swears to her that he will stay up the entire night to watch over her then. The walk is so much shorter from her height now, but she doesn’t forget to tap at Bellis’ alder and flash the sprite a little smile and a wave when König has his back turned on the way back.

He still has his work, and she waits at home for him like a doting housewife. Only now, he returns with gifts. His closet is no longer dark green and black— there are patches of soft colors and whites between, floral fabric and lace, dainty things that seem comical amidst the tactical articles and denims she knows he’s scrubbed blood off of a few too many times.

They don’t share a bed, but they still cuddle against one another on the couch. Hand-in-hand as she’s always dreamt of. In fact, most nights it’s his bed that she sleeps in while he rests elsewhere, and he doesn’t mind it at all. He even tucks her in and presses a kiss to her cheek that makes her so giddy that she can’t find sleep until a half-hour afterwards before he flicks off the lamp and leaves her to her dreaming.

— — —

She’s better at keeping track of time after adjusting to a more domesticated life. König’s been out for fifty-four days, but she doesn’t have to miss him so much. He’s gifted her a phone, sends her letters with his stories scrawled out in black ink. The calls are frequent, and she finds she loves them most of all. They’re at odd hours often, and he always breathes out an apology for having woken her that pulls a giggle from her, because they both know she wouldn’t have preferred to wake any other way than from the sound of his voice.

“I miss you.”

He sounds tired when he says it, and she imagines that he is. Those weary looks from before they had ever even spoken weren’t unwarranted and she knows well enough now. His tales of his heroics were not all spoken to simply boast.

“I miss you too, König.”

He huffs out a laugh into the phone, and she imagines his smile reaching the bright eyes that she loves, twinkling in mirth.

“I should let you sleep.”

“No, it’s fine.” She pauses to chew on her lip, heart sailing up into her throat. “Will you be coming home soon?”

He grunts out his confirmation. “Tomorrow.”

“I wish to take you on a date then— a picnic, maybe. I can bake a cake.”

König falls silent for a moment, and her breathing halts entirely as she slumps back against the bed— his bed— feeling as though she were still just as small as before. Surely… she could not have misread all of those little looks, the warmth and his fluttering pulse she felt as she rested her head on his arm so many times before. She parts her lips to recant her statement, but there’s no need. The contented sigh she hears in response is all of an answer that she needs.

“Ja, please. I would be honored.”

#könig #konig #konig x reader #konig x you #könig x reader #könig x you #cod fanfiction #konig fanfiction #könig fanfiction

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cillian-gets-me-wetter · 2 months

Note

Hey can you write something about Joe and reader. Can it be like enemies to fwb. Joe bumps into reader at an event, he teases her about her stalking him and being obsessed with him but the reader just happens to be there because she’s genuinely interested in the event. Maybe after the event Joe decides to invite reader to like a after party kick back in his hotel room or home depending on the setting you choose and thats where they get intimate. Make it super smutty. Reader isnt famous in anyway she works in the field like a data analysis or statistician something other a journalist please, and you could make their rivalry or hatred stem back to college days.

NO BC I LOVE THIS CONCEPT SM YES YES YESSSS and i have the perfect song inspo in mind too :))

if u think i’m pretty - joe burrow x fem!reader

requested by: @multiflcs :))

warnings: exes to enemies to ??? (i’m sorry, all i know is complicated relationships tbh), smut (18+ ONLY), oral (fem receiving), joe is a certified munch (y’all can’t tell me otherwise), overstimulation, p in v, unprotected sex, BIG DICK JOE, riding, hair pulling, spitting, mention of unrequited love, praise, implied height difference, no use of y/n, brief cameo from ja’marr

disclaimer: i do not own any people, teams or organizations i included in this story. this is for fictional purposes only. do not copy or claim my work as your own. comments, reblogs and constructive feedback are appreciated!!

a/n: this is my first time writing smut so hopefully you enjoy reading this as much as i loved writing this!

here are resources for supporting palestine and gaza 🇵🇸

masterlist

i know that you're shitty and you're bad for me but i can't stop thinkin' 'bout it

as you walked the past the red carpet, you made your way inside the event venue, which was packed with celebrities, athletes and other public figures alike. as a data analyst for the 49ers, you were sent to las vegas to work for the super bowl so it was pretty exciting but a bit apprehensive. you’ve been to many football games for the past four years you’ve worked for the nfl but being able to attend the super bowl was a once in a lifetime experience.

through the connections you made throughout your time working, you scored an invite to the fanatics super bowl party this year so of course, you accepted. you look down at your outfit, which was a simple long-sleeved black cocktail dress, making you feel slightly undressed amongst those wearing luxury designers.

you walked through the sea of people that were socializing and talking amongst themselves to the bar area. the bartender, a woman who looked about your age, “hey, i love your dress! what can i get you?” you smiled, “thank you! and can i get a blue lagoon?” she nodded and began to make the drink. a voice behind you said, “you still order that? old habits die hard, i guess.” you scrunch up your face in confusion and look behind you, seeing the nfl’s golden boy, joe burrow, the sight of him making you sigh and roll your eyes.

you met joe during your second year at lsu, you had seen him around campus, went to some of the football games and at parties so you knew of him. you both had a statistics class together and he was failing so he asked you to help tutor him. you helped him gain a better understanding of the subject and was able to get his grade up. as you two spent more time together and got to know other, tension began to develop.

one night, he asked you to come over and hang out after your shift at a local bar and restaurant near campus. you got off of work and you drove over to his place, it seemed like a normal kind of night between friends, which consisted of ordering in food and taking turns to pick out a movie to watch.

this week, it was your turn to pick so you decided on sixteen candles since he never watched it before. you tilted your head up toward him from where you laid on his chest, “why haven’t you seen this before?” he shrugged as he gently ran his fingers through your hair, “just never got around to it.. i think tara tried to show me this other movie and i ended up falling asleep.”

tara mays was the typical popular sorority girl and cheerleader who thrived on daddy’s money in order to keep up with her lifestyle. her and joe would hook up occasionally but she would always want to make things into something more serious between them. however, joe would always have to let her down easy, insisting that she’s a great girl but a relationship wasn’t something he wanted (at least from her).

the words came out of your mouth before you actually thought your words over, “you aren’t seeing each other anymore?” he sighed, “yeah.. i had to be honest with her and myself about letting it continue.” you perk your head up in interest, “how so?” he looked at the television screen as if he was paying attention to the movie, “i told her i was into someone else.”

you nod understandably, “so.. who is this mystery girl? do i know her?” he looked down at you and smiled softly, “i think you know her very well. she likes to read a lot, she even has her own little library in her bedroom which is very cute. i have her coffee order memorized, which is a iced caramel macchiato with two sugars. her fav-”

you leaned forward and cupped his face, giving him a eager and passionate kiss. he quickly reciprocated the kiss, his hands wandering down your back. he moves away from your lips and starts to leave kisses all over your face, which made you laugh and try to wriggle away from him but his strong arms held you in place. he began to kiss down to your neck, then he flips you both over so that he’s on top.

it made you gasp and a breath hitches in the back of your throat at the way he moved you so effortlessly, like you weighed nothing. you opened your legs and wrapped them around his waist so he can feel more comfortable on top of you. he laughs softly at your reaction, “so.. i guess you’re into me too then?” you roll your eyes playfully, “shut up”. then you grab him by his shirt and kiss him deeply, internally praying that nothing ruins this moment.

the bartender handed you your drink and joe slides his card across the bar table to pay for it. you attempt to push it back in his direction, “that isn’t necessary, joe.” he shrugged it off and gently moved your hand away, “don’t worry about it.” the poor woman sensed the tension between the two of you and silently took his card and swiped it through. she asked, “do you want a receipt?”

before you said anything, joe shook his head and she handed him back his card, giving you both a polite smile. you sip your drink, annoyed at the fact that he even bothered to show up and the fact he pulled this kind of gesture knowing you wanted nothing to do with him. his voice broke you out of your thoughts, “you know… a thank you would suffice.” he dawned those famous cartier sunglasses and those stupid jeans he wore throughout college. even if he did look really hot, he was still the same person who broke your heart after graduation years ago.

you scoffed, “like i said, it wasn’t necessary. i could have bought it myself.” he retorted, “well i wanted to so you’re welcome.” your blood started to grow warm and beginning to boil at the way he was acting. he wasn’t the one who had his heart broken so the attitude wasn’t needed. he clears his throat awkwardly, “are you stalking me?” you furrowed your eyebrows at the audacity of that question. the fact he even asked you that made you want to punch him in the nose.

you laughed sarcastically, “are you fucking kidding me?do you seriously think that i came out here for you?” he shrugged, “well, why are you here then? you don’t know anything about football. you’re too obsessed with me to actually pay attention.” you glared daggers at him as the tension between the two of you grew by the second. you get closer to him and throw your drink in his face, causing attention towards you and him as he wipes the remnants of blue lagoon on his jacket sleeve.

the other partygoers stared both of you down, wondering what happened and what led to throwing a drink in the quarterback’s face. you seethe, “fuck you, joe.” you walked out of the party venue, completely embarrassed and anxious about losing your job since this incident involved a prominent player in the league. you made it outside and walked further down the street to a empty bench far away from all the commotion from the party.

you open your purse and dig through to find your pack of cigarettes that you only smoked when you’re stressed or overwhelmed and desperate times call for desperate measures. you take one out of the pack with your pink lighter, igniting it. you take a long drag and inhale into your lungs, letting it calm your nerves as you exhale. your hands were trembling and your brain was going at a million miles per hour when joe sits next to you.

he looks over at you, his eyes softening at the shaken state you were in because of him. you stare at the cars and people walking by, “if you want to get me fired, that’s fine.” he shook his head, “i’m not going to get you fired or anything like that. you had a right to throw that drink in my face.” you took another long drag as you flicked off some of the ash beginning to build up on top.

you both sat in an uncomfortable silence until he decided to break it, “so you work in data analysis now?” you nod, “yes.. i don’t know how long after what just happened.” he sighed, “you aren’t going to get fired. plenty of people in this field have done worse and received no repercussions. i’m going to do everything in my power to make sure you don’t get in trouble for this.”

you shook your head, “you wouldn’t understand, joe. you’re a man, if you were in my shoes, you would face no punishment. but for me, it’s 100% a possibility that i can lose my job because of this. you’re a famous quarterback who i threw a drink in his face while i just work for the team.” you felt yourself growing to panic as you anxiously tap your fingers against your thigh, “it’s supposed to be this huge event and i feel like i would be a liability for that.”

he wrapped his arm around you, not caring about the smell of the cigarette lingering on his clothes. his free hand rubbed against your back soothingly, doing his best to calm you down. he reassured, “if anything comes out about it, i know a few people that can make it go away. as for the team, i’m going to talk to them about it being a misunderstanding.”

you looked over at him, “you don’t have to do that for me.” he said, “i want to, okay? i put you through so much pain and i want to make it up to you.” you didn’t notice a few stray tears flow down your face until joe tilted your chin with his fingers and wiped them away with his thumb. his ocean blue eyes stared deeply into yours, “i am so sorry. for everything.”

you flick the remains of your cigarette to the ground and let out a tearful sigh, “i haven’t loved anyone else since you. i don’t think i’m capable of feeling that way towards anyone.” your confession made his heart drop into his stomach. he remembered that night after you both graduated as if it happened yesterday.

as you slowly kissed him after settling into bed after that eventful day, you whisper against his lips, “i love you.” those three words made him stop kissing you. while you two had been dating for almost 6 months, he had no idea if he was ready to say it yet. while he was the #1 draft pick for the cincinnati bengals, you were able to obtain an internship for the denver broncos, which was going to 17 hours away from him.

you noticed his lips stopped moving against yours, you looked at him with concern. “are you okay, baby?” he let out a shaky sigh, “i don’t know if i’m ready for this.” you asked, “what do you mean?” he continued, “you’re going to be all the way in colorado while i’m in ohio. how are we going to make this work if i won’t be able to see you?”

you looked at him, taken aback. “well, we can always facetime and we can visit each other whenever we can.” he shook his head, “we’ll literally go from seeing each other every day to barely seeing each other at all. do you have any idea how hard that is for me?” you rubbed your face, feeling the skin in order to not shut down.

you bite back, “it’s going to be hard for me too! it’s not just about you, joe. we both have our own careers we need to focus on but it doesn’t mean that i don’t love you.” he gets out of your bed and grabs his backpack off your chair, packing up his clothes. “where are you going?” he opened up the drawer you cleared for him whenever he would spend the night with you, shoving whatever clothes that he can fit into the bag.

“i just need space. i’m just going to go back to my place for tonight.” you get up out of bed, standing in front of the dresser so he wouldn’t just leave. “we need to talk about this, joe.” he sighed, “what do you want me to say? that long distance relationships don’t last no matter how much we’d try? get realistic and stop romanticizing this.”

your voice cracks and eyes well up with tears, “so that’s just it then? you don’t want to be with me anymore?” he shrugged, “i really don’t see any other solution.” you nodded meekly, finally moving out of his way. “just get your shit and go.”

you leaned closer to him, burying your face into his neck. he wrapped his arms around you, inhaling his cologne, noticing it was the one you gave him for his birthday. he kissed your forehead gently, “we’re going to figure this out, okay?” you nod and pull away from his embrace, wanting to get a better look at him. he still had the same haircut from college and his cartier glasses were off, the streetlight capturing how beautiful his eyes are.

he stared back at you in awe, he still thought of you as the most beautiful woman he ever laid eyes on. he moved a couple strands of hair out of your face, tucking it behind your ear, the gesture making you melt like putty in his hands. without a second thought, he leaned in and softly pressed his lips against yours, suddenly pulling away incase he misread any signals.

“i’m sor-“ you cut him off by kissing him passionately, your hand finding its home in the back of his head, running through his dirty blonde hair. while your other hand wandered under his plain white t-shirt, feeling his warm body against your manicured fingertips. he wrapped his arm around your waist while his free hand groping your left breast over your dress causing you to moan into the kiss, slipping his tongue inside your mouth.

his hand moves down to your plush thighs, giving them both a firm but gentle squeeze. his lips move away from yours, kissing down your jaw to your neck. your hand moves back to his hair, giving the roots a gentle squeeze, he lets out a breathy groan against you. his breath tickles your skin softly, his lips finding the spot on your neck that makes your squirm. he sucks against your sensitive skin causing you to mewl at the feeling of him sucking and biting your neck, leaving a bruise that you’re going to need to cover up later on.

he detached his lips from your neck to admire his work, lightly kissing the hickey he left on you, which made you wince. you both smile softly, taking in what just happened and how much you’ve missed each other. he asks, “do you want to head back to my hotel or yours?” you shrug, “it doesn’t matter to me.” he nods, “okay, we’re going to mine then.” he sat up, holding his hand out for you to take.

you hold his hand, allowing him to help you up from the bench and intertwining both of your fingers together. he said, “my hotel isn’t too far from here so it won’t be too long.” you nod, standing up on your toes and kissing his cheek. he blushed softly, wrapping his arm around you and pulling you closer to him as you walk to his hotel room.

as you walk closer to where he was staying, you began to slow down next to him as your feet began to grow tired in the heels you were wearing. he looked at you concerned about you slowing down, “is everything okay?” you nodded, “yeah, it’s just that my feet were starting to hurt.”

he squatted down onto the ground near you, he looked up and asked, “can you lift your foot up really quick?” you nodded, lifting your foot up off the ground for him as he held it delicately. he unhooked the heels clasp around your ankle and gently took off the heel for you. you lifted your other foot off the ground for him and he did the same thing.

he held both of your heels for you as he got up off the ground, dusting the dirt off his jeans. he asked, “do your feet feel better?” you smiled softly and nodded, “they do. thank you.” he smiled back and leaned down, capturing your lips in a sweet kiss. “you’re welcome, baby.” you laugh softly, “baby? are you getting all soft on me, burrow?”

he rolled his eyes playfully, “only for you.” he interlocked his fingers with yours, kissing your hand softly and leading the way back to his hotel. as you both walked through the lobby and inside the elevator, he pressed the fourth floor button and turned you over to face him as the elevator doors closed. he leaned down once more, kissing your lips once again, cupping your face gently in his hands.

you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you as the kiss grows more intense when the elevator opens, signaling that you made it on the fourth floor. he grabs your hand and hurriedly pulls you outside the elevator and leads you down the hallway to his room. as you reach the outside of his door, he pulls the keycard out of his pocket as you lean closer to him and teasingly kiss his neck.

he shudders as he puts the card into the slot, “fuck, don’t tease me.” you smiled against his neck, “or what?” the light on the door turned green and he immediately opened it, pulling you inside. he grabbed the “do not disturb” sign and set on the door outside the room, shutting it behind him and locking it.

you set your purse on the desk and he threw your heels to the floor near the nightstand, lightly grabbing your wrist to get you to look at him. he feverishly kisses you as if his life depended on it, his teeth clashing against your own. you managed to slip your tongue into his mouth as his hands explored your body over your dress. he managed to say through kisses, “take this off.”

you nodded eagerly as he sits down on the corner of the bed, wanting to watch you undress for him. you slowly took off your dress, revealing your matching laced black lingerie set underneath. he took off his jacket and his necklaces as you undressed for him, throwing his jacket to the floor and setting his necklaces on the nightstand then turning over to face you again.

you decided to straddle his lap, pulling him into a needy kiss as his hands wander your body to the back of your bra. “can i take this off?” you smiled against his lips and nodded, “of course, baby.” his hands unhooked your bra, letting it fall to the floor as he looked at your breasts for the first time in years.

his hands caressed them softly causing you to let out a soft moan into his mouth. he looked down at them, his eyes widened slightly at the sight of your pierced nipples. “when did you get this done?” you blushed softly, “like two years ago.. do you like them?” he nodded, his fingers teasing the balled jewelry, making you shudder and whimper.

he takes your breast into his mouth, sucking on your nipple and teasing the jewelry with his tongue. you moaned softly, watching him lick and suck while you run your fingers through his hair. his free hand teases the other one as his mouth moves to it, giving them both the same love and recognition. you whimpered, grinding your hips softly onto his lap.

he detached his mouth from you as his hands held your hips, helping you grind against him and groping your ass. he captured your lips again in a messy kiss, his nose brushing against yours. “i missed you so much.” you whispered against his lips, “i missed you too, baby.” your fingers reach the hem of his t-shirt, him quickly obliging as he pulls it over his head and throwing it to the floor.

he quickly flips you both over, climbing over you and kissing down your neck to your chest. you shudder softly against his lips as he kisses down your stomach to reaching the hem of your panties. his fingers brushed over the damp cloth causing you to whimper softly and open your legs for better access for him. he asked softly, “can i take this off too, pretty girl?”

you nod eagerly, “please take them off.. i need to feel you.” he grabs both sides of your panties as you lift your hips up so he can easily take them off. he pulls them down your legs and reaches your ankles then throwing them to the side. his fingers brush over your wet folds as you mewl softly at the feeling of his fingers against you.

he bit his lip as he teasingly rubbed his fingers against you, “you’re so wet for me.. and i barely did anything. it’s kind of pathetic, baby.” you mewl at his words, not being able to take his teasing any longer. you begged, “please do something, joe. i need you so bad.” without hesitation, he opened your legs a little wider and buried his face between them. he kisses and teases your clit with his tongue causing you to let out a sigh and closing your eyes.

he tapped your inner thigh, “look at me, baby. i want you to watch me.” you opened your eyes and looked down at him as he suckled your clit into his mouth. you run his fingers through his hair and mewl loudly at the feeling of him slipping his tongue inside of you. he devoured you as if he hadn’t eaten in days, you moaned in satisfaction and contorting your face in pleasure as you watch him eat you out.

his tongue lapped against your wet cunt as you push his face closer into you, grinding against his tongue as if you’re riding him. he pulled your legs onto his shoulders as your thighs clench against his head, you whimper and grip his hair tightly causing him to moan as he kisses and laps up your wet arousal. the pit building in your stomach began to boil over until you’re writhing against his face. and arching your back.

he knew you were growing closer to your orgasm as your movements started moving sloppily against him. he asked, “you want to cum, baby?” he slipped his tongue inside you once more. you nodded, “yes, i’m so fucking close!” he urged, “beg for it. tell me how much you missed me.” you whimpered, “i missed you so much, joe. no one can make me feel as good as you.”

he smirked against you, “good girl. cum for me, baby. cum on my face.” you came undone at his words and the feeling of his tongue flicking against your clit. you moaned in ecstasy as your legs shook against his face as he continued you to guide you through your orgasm. you gasp and whine as the overwhelming sensation of his tongue curling inside you.

you whimpered, “okay, you can get off. please.” he moved his tongue out of you, his chin and mouth glistening with your juices. he pressed a few chaste kisses in your inner thighs before he finally moved out of between your legs. he leaned up closer to you, your legs wrap around his waist, his hard cock straining in his jeans and rubbing against your inner thigh.

he kisses you feverishly, slipping his tongue in your mouth. tongues and teeth clash against each other as the neediness between the two of you grew more intense. he pulls away from you and lightly pecks your lips, “you taste better than i remembered.” you blush, “you remembered what i taste like?”

he nods, “of course i do. you haven’t left on my mind since i left that night.” you sat up, kissing him softly as your hand reaches down and teases through his jeans by caressing your hand against him. he groans softly, shuddering at the feeling of your soft hand on the outside of his jeans. “you can take it out if you want. i don’t think i’ll last long if you keep rubbing me like that.”

you giggle lightly, “you got that hard from eating me out?” he said, “i got hard the moment i saw you again if you want me to be honest.” you peck his lips softly, “you’re so fucking cute.” your hand moved to the zipper of his jeans, unzipping and unbuttoning them. he pulled his jeans down to his ankles, kicking them off to the side, revealing his black calvin klein boxers.

you helped pull his boxers down, revealing his girthy, rock hard cock slapping against his abdomen as you free him from his boxers. you stroke it softly, your thumb feeling the slit of his tip as he lets out a sigh. “fuck, i missed your hands on me.” you asked, “oh yeah?” he nodded, “if you keep doing that, this is going to be over pretty quickly.” you laughed softly and moved your hand off him.

he rubbed his cock over your folds, making you both groan and whimper in pleasure. “if it hurts, i’ll stop, okay?” you nod feverishly, bucking your hips to match his movements. he slipped the tip of his cock inside of you, letting you slowly adjust to his size and so he can feel how warm and tight you are. you both let out a breathy moan, he slipped more of him inside you causing you to wince and him to groan softly. “fuck, i missed you.”

his thrusts were teasingly slow as he let you adjust to his size again since it was so long since he’s been inside you. you whimpered, “fuck me, joe.. please”. he moved his hips, thrusting a little faster causing you to moan softly in his ear. his lips nipped and sucked on your collarbone as you buck your hips into his to match his thrusts. he asked teasingly, “do you like that, baby?”

you nodded eagerly, “fuck me harder… i need it so bad.” he moved your legs over his shoulders as he thrusted deeper inside you. your knees were against your chest as he fucked you harder, the sounds of his skin slapping against yours and both of your moans filled the hotel room. both of you were lost in each other until the sound of his phone rang from the pocket of his jeans.

he groaned annoyingly at the dreaded sound ruining the mood as he moved out of you, causing you to whimper at the loss of contact. he quickly grabbed his jeans off the floor and took his phone out of his back pocket, swiping to answer it and holding it against his ear. “yeah?” he smiled softly down at you as his hands groped at your breast, rubbing his thumb over your pierced nipple.

he sighed, “no, dude, i left the party over an hour ago. what happened?” you mouthed, “do you want to stop?” he shrugged, listening to whatever ja’marr is asking him about. “no, i caught up with an old friend and we’re back at my hotel.” you smiled softly as you knew you were the old friend he was referring to. he laughed softly, “no, i’ll tell you about it later..” you grew more comfortable onto the bed as he finished up his phone conversation. “okay i’ll text you later.. get back safe.”

he ended the call and pulled you closer to the edge of the bed, leaning down and kissing you hungrily. he asked softly, “do you want to keep going?” you nodded, “yes please.” he laughed softly, “aww, look at you using your manners.” he kissed the crook of your neck then pecked your lips, “such a sweet girl.” you asked shyly, “can i ride you?”

he nodded eagerly, lying down on the bed next to you. you crawled on top of him, kissing his neck teasingly. he lets out a soft sigh, running his fingers through your hair as you find the sensitive part of his skin, sucking and nipping the same way he did on the bench prior. his breath hitches, “fuck, don’t tease, baby.”

you giggled softly, detaching your lips from his neck before giving the forming bruise a small kiss, hearing a wince from him. you got up onto the bed, hovering over his cock while you line him up with your entrance. you sink down onto his length, hearing shudders and gasps from the both of you.

you start to roll your hips, his hands going straight to your hips helping guide your movements against his body. you whimper and moan as you close your eyes and throw your head back in pleasure. his hand reaching up and groping your tit as you ride him to oblivion. you had plenty of hookups after you and joe broke up but no one made you feel so full and satisfied you the way he did.

he laid up further, pulling you closer to him as he kisses you passionately. his hands gripped against your hips, probably leaving tiny bruises for you to wake up to the next morning. sweat began forming and dripping down from both of your foreheads as your legs started getting weaker. his hand giving your thigh a gentle squeeze as your movements began to slow.

the heat in your stomach was rising as you continued to move against him. his hands wandered and caressed your body on top of him. he cupped your face softly and lowly whispered, “open your mouth, baby.” you obeyed, sticking your tongue out for him as he spit in your mouth. you whimpered softly as you swallowed his spit causing him to groan at the sight of you. “you’re such a good girl.”

his words push you closer to the edge of your climax as you push through the soreness in your legs. your walls began to tighten around him causing him to let out a soft moan. you moaned, “i’m so close.” he grunted, “fuck, i am too. cum for me, baby. i want to feel you around me.” you loudly gasped, burying your face in his sweaty shoulder, biting down to muffle your screams. the feeling of your teeth digging into his skin and your walls clenching his length made groan and shudder as he fills you up with his cum.

you pull him into a slow, needy kiss as you both were steadily coming down from what just occurred. you get off of his lap, legs shaking from either your orgasm or how long you were using them for. you get up from bed and attempt to gather your clothes to get dressed when joe asks, “what are you doing?” you eyed him with confusion, “getting ready to leave?” he shook his head, “come lay down with me.”

you found yourself crawling back into bed with him before thinking it over, you were used to leaving after a hook up so him asking you to spend the night was something that you hadn’t heard in a long time. you cuddled into his chest as he pulls you closer to him, wrapping his arms around you, your leg draping against his hips. what you didn’t know was that joe rarely dated after you two broke up. he went on a few dates but always found himself thinking of you to fully pursue anything.

you felt yourself beginning to doze off but was fighting to stay awake so you can be in the moment with him longer. he whispered in your ear, “you can go to sleep.. i’ll be here when you wake up, okay?” you nodded sleepily as you finally shut your eyes, softly snoring on his chest. he gently moved your hair out of your face and kissed the top of your head as he watched you peacefully sleep. he never thought you’d actually end up in his arms again..

but now that you’re here with him, he finally felt he was whole again. his only regret was that it took him so long to realize that he loved you after you two broke up and you moved away.. he cooed softly in your ear as you slept, “i love you.” he gave you a kiss on your forehead before drifting off to sleep, being happy that you were back in his arms again.

#joe burrow #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow smut #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow fic #cincinnati bengals #keep reading #nfl imagine #izzy writes 💕

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 7 months

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When The World Is Crashing Down [Chapter 5: Turn Off The Lights And Turn Off The Shyness]

Series summary: Your family is House Celtigar, one of Rhaenyra’s wealthiest allies. In the aftermath of Rook’s Rest, Aemond unknowingly conscripts you to save his brother’s life. Now you are in the liar of the enemy, but your loyalties are quickly shifting…

Chapter warnings: Language, warfare, Otto being the worst (per usual), violence, serious injury, cryptic Helaena prophecies, alcoholism/addiction, references to sexual content including noncon (18+), dragons, demented flirting, a late-night surprise, Larys Strong returns. 😞

Series title is a lyric from: “7 Minutes In Heaven” by Fall Out Boy.

Chapter title is a lyric from: “Of All The Gin Joints In All The World” by Fall Out Boy.

Word count: 6.3k.

Link to chapter list: HERE.

Taglist (more in comments): @tinykryptonitewerewolf @lauraneedstochill @not-a-glad-gladiator @daenysx @babyblue711 @arcielee @at-a-rax-ia @bhanclegane @jvpit3rs @padfooteyes @marvelescvpe @travelingmypassion @darkenchantress @yeahright0h @poohxlove @trifoliumviridi @bloodyflowerrr @fan-goddess @devynsficrecs @flowerpotmage @thelittleswanao3 @seabasscevans @hiraethrhapsody @libroparaiso @echos-muses @st-eve-barnes @chattylurker @lm-txles @vagharnaur @moonlightfoxx @storiumemporium @insabecs @heliosscribbles @beautifulsweetschaos @namelesslosers @partnerincrime0 @burningcoffeetimetravel-fics @marbles-posts @imsolence @maidmerrymint @backyardfolklore @nimaharchive @anxiousdaemon @under-the-aspen-tree @amiraisgoingthruit @dd122004dd @randomdragonfires @jetblack4real @joliettes

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The sun would burn him, but moonlight is kind. You’re on the balcony of Aegon’s bedchamber, two chairs, two cups of wine, another full pitcher on the table between you, a glass bottle of warm rose oil like amber, like gold, freckled with curled ruby petals. You’re dressed in your usual attire, simple designs and neutral colors, greys and creams and dusky pinks; tonight your gown is a flat, inky blue that matches the night sky. Aegon is wearing his unpretentious cotton trousers—stained with splotches of pomegranate juice, his recompense before you allowed him the wine—and a tiny braid in his shaggy, silver hair.

“I look like your house’s sigil,” Aegon says as he massages rose oil onto his forearms, his palms moving in large sloppy circles over a patchwork of scar tissue; you would do a better job, but he says he wants to learn how to care for his wounds on his own. His dragon ring—gold wings, jade eyes—gleams in the cool, ghostly moonshine. His words are teasing, but his tone is dark, troubled, weary. “Some red, some white. All ugly.”

You smile. You aren’t agreeing, just playing along. “Our motto is better than our flag.”

“I might have been inebriated during that lesson.”

“Perpetual Resurrection.”

Aegon looks at you, confounded. “Quite the mouthful.”

“Crabs molt throughout their lifetime. They crack their own skins open and climb out. If they get stuck, they die. If they get attacked before their new shell hardens, they die. But if they live…they’re a brand new version of themselves. Larger, wiser, more powerful.”

“Spiders,” Aegon says. “You’re trying to placate me with some rousing metaphor about what are essentially aquatic spiders.”

“They’re tasty too,” you say, grinning. “Especially when their shells are still soft. The cooks would serve them fried and us kids would sit around the table ripping the legs free and throwing them at each other.”

“What, you can eat the crab whole?!”

“Yes. Once the faces are cut off and the organs scooped out.”

He pretends to be repulsed by you. “Harrowing. Revolting. This is why Targaryens have always refused to breed with your kind.”

It’s funny, but it isn’t, because it’s a little too close to what you’re both thinking. Under the moonlight, you watch Aegon with the words caged behind your teeth: What do you want most? Who are you in your bones? Where would we be if the world wasn’t crashing down around us?

He slathers rose oil on his scarred right cheek—carelessly, distractedly—and accidentally pokes himself in the eye. “Ow.”

You ask: “Why do you want to do that yourself now?”

“To prove I can. To feel ever so slightly less like an invalid.” He takes a swig of his wine and gazes out over the nightscape ocean, stars in the sky, stars reflected on waves. “I am a study in irony. I spent my whole life waiting for it to be over. I poisoned myself, wasted years, resisted any semblance of usefulness. And now I finally have things I want to accomplish, I finally have reasons to live…and I’m trapped in the flesh of some pathetic, deformed, calamitously weak stranger.” He shakes his head, despondent, still not looking at you. “I can have a body that works. I can have a soul. But I can’t have both at the same time. It’s so fucking unfair.”

“I like you exactly as you are. Body and soul.”

“Everything I own, everything I’m given…” He stares down at his palms, open and empty. “It is destroyed, gets killed, goes mad. I ruin causes. I ruin people. I couldn’t do that to you.”

“I think I’m going to be ruined either way. I’d rather you be the one responsible.”

“Angel,” he says, low and serious. And now his gaze comes back to meet yours. “Who are you supposed to marry?”

You don’t want to tell him. You don’t want it to be true. Your voice is a whisper, almost lost in the night wind. “Cregan Stark.”

His eyes shoot wide, not just startled but terrified. “Stark?!”

You nod miserably. “My father took me and my sisters to Winterfell as part of a trade mission. Cregan decided he wanted me. I never encouraged it, I never desired it, I swear I didn’t—”

“No, I believe you,” Aegon says. He swallows a gulp of wine noisily, his hand shaking. “You were right. I can’t touch him. I can’t stop it. Not unless I win.”

“You don’t want the Iron Throne,” you tell Aegon, already knowing it’s true.

He snorts, a harsh derisive sound. “Who would?”

“Lots of people, I think. But not you or Rhaenyra.”

This intrigues him. “She doesn’t want it either?”

“Not from what I’ve seen and heard. Or, at least, she didn’t until Luke was killed. It changed her. I’m still not convinced she wants to be the queen, but she wants vengeance. And absolute power is a sure path to it.” And so the suffering continues, it goes around and around like a wheel, it is a debt that is never satisfied but only spread like plague.

“I don’t understand why Aemond did that,” Aegon says. His words are hushed, like he’s never spoken them to anyone but you and never will. “When he returned from Storm’s End, I held a feast for him. I had to, someone had to, someone had to pretend it was a victory instead of a murder. But it didn’t make any sense. Arrax was an inconvenience, not a threat. Luke was far more valuable as a hostage than a corpse. Aemond has always been the disciplined brother, the strategic one. I won’t claim to be clever. But I can’t find any strategy in what happened there.”

“Aemond has a temper. He is haunted, I believe. He is not above reckless fury.”

“No, evidently not.” Aegon sighs and rakes his fingers through his hair; again, his dragon ring glints under the moonlight, silver reflected off gold. “I’ll try to win,” he says. “For my family. For you.” Then he smirks, a grim attempt at humor. “Though I pity Cregan Stark for the paradise I will deprive him of.”

You do not return Aegon’s smile. “Don’t have too much pity for him. I have no expertise and I’m scared to death of it. I’d probably end up hiding under his bed, gripping the legs for dear life. He’d have to drag me out and tie me down.”

Aegon is alarmed; his storm-blue eyes are now focused, seeking. He is aware that he has wandered into a quagmire. He treads carefully. “When you say no expertise, you mean…none at all?”

“None.”

“But what about all of those anatomically-correct cock illustrations in your medical books?”

Another joke you can’t bring yourself to laugh at. You drink your wine to stop your lips from quivering, smooth the silk of your gown with a trembling hand. You see it no matter where you look: the pool of red on Theodora’s bedsheets, the dawning and inescapable realization on her face. This is her life now. This will always be her life.

Aegon says gently: “You have no expectation of pleasure.”

“It seems…inherently violent. For the woman. Even if it isn’t meant to be. Being overpowered, being invaded. The man decides when and how it happens. The woman endures.”

Aegon stares at you—biting his full lower lip, deeply somber—but doesn’t speak. He gives you the impression of someone with so many thoughts swimming around in his skull he is struggling to choose just one.

You smile dimly. “I’m sorry. I’ve made you sad.”

“I’m, um…” Aegon pauses to collect himself; he drains his wine cup and sets it back on the table. He is uncharacteristically cautious, like he thinks one unwise word will break the spell of whatever exists between you, this temptation, this need. “I’m saddened by the fact that you think of it that way. Because it doesn’t have to be…distasteful. Frightening. Coerced. It shouldn’t be, in fact.”

“I suppose I’ll find out if the Blacks win this war and Cregan Stark comes to claim me.”

Again, Aegon is exceptionally circumspect. “You’ve never wanted any man?”

“No. Never. Not in that way. Until…” You look at him, willing him to understand. I want you, but I’m so goddamn afraid to. I’m afraid of this world, I’m afraid there’s no hope left in it.

Slowly, Aegon smiles, soft and warm. And without any grasping, animalistic greed, he reaches over to rest a palm on your thigh, night-dark silk draped over skin that doesn’t flinch away from him, doesn’t even have to fight the instinct to. You place a hand on his. Your fingertips trace the gold wings of the green-eyed dragon ring he never takes off. And it is sealed like a covenant under the stars, this allegiance that neither of you could begin to explain to anyone else.

Footsteps are coming through Aegon’s bedchamber, heavy and purposeful. Otto Hightower appears in the balcony doorway. He fills the space like storm clouds flood a clear sky, like blood saturates linen. “You’re getting fat,” he tells Aegon gruffly.

“You’re getting ever more wrinkly and close to the afterlife.”

Otto glances to where Aegon’s hand still rests on your thigh and snaps: “If you’re well enough for that, perhaps you would deign to join us in the council chamber. You could shock everyone by actually acting like a king.”

Then he’s gone, taking those last echoes of the moment with him.

~~~~~~~~~~

“They know she’s here,” Larys Strong says. His audience is gathered around the table: Otto, Criston, Daeron, Grand Maester Orwyle, Tyland Lannister, Jasper Wylde, the knights of the Kingsguard, Aegon slumped way down in his seat and you beside him feeling his forehead worriedly for fever. Because Aegon and Daeron are in attendance, the council chamber is one chair short. Aemond has elected to be the person to stand; he lurks, severe and silent, in a corner of the room half-lit by torchlight. Daeron is dressed in a vibrant teal, Aegon in black; Aemond wears green, dark and brooding like envy.

Criston Cole asks: “How is that possible?”

Otto sighs irritably, rubbing his forehead. “We have spies. I’m sure Rhaenyra does as well.”

“Someone apparently glimpsed the prince regent…um…” Larys searches for the diplomatic word. “Escorting her through the streets of King’s Landing.”

“Dragging is what he did,” Aegon says, glaring at Aemond. “Abducting. Attacking. Imprisoning.” Aemond, arms crossed over his chest, studies his boots and pretends not to have heard him.

Larys continues: “The Blacks don’t believe that she is here of her own volition.”

Otto’s eyes narrow. “What, they think we’ve detained her as some sort of…healer? Hostage?”

“No, my lord,” Larys says, hesitantly, awkwardly. “They don’t imagine the king’s motivations to be that honorable.”

Otto is losing his patience. “Meaning?”

Larys toys with his restless, rodentlike hands. “They think she is being…violated.”

A stilted, scandalized hush falls over the table. “Good,” Aegon says, invoking gasps and gapes. “If Green supporters believe her to be my captive, they won’t harm her. And if the Blacks think she is being held here against her will, she would be safe with them as well. No matter who wins, she is not in danger.”

“That is hardly beneficial for your own reputation, Your Grace,” Tyland Lannister says.

Aegon grins beneath cold eyes; he shows his teeth like a wolf, like a dragon. “Was my reputation so pristine to begin with, Lord Lannister?”

“No, perhaps not,” Tyland mumbles. Still, he should not have said it aloud. Otto huffs another sigh and rolls his eyes.

“So you intend to keep a Celtigar daughter in your service?” Otto says to Aegon.

“I have no doubts concerning her loyalty.”

Larys adds: “My lord, I must say, I cannot see a tactical advantage in her saving the king’s life if she retains any loyalty to Rhaenyra’s cause.”

“Then why save him at all? Why bother? He was lying there half-dead, soon to be properly dead, and she brought him back practically singlehandedly. Why?”

“Mercy,” Aemond says quietly from the corner, and everyone turns to look at him. “Many people have none of it. She perhaps has too much. And now they have grown…” He gestures vaguely, perhaps bashfully. “Attached to each other.”

Jasper Wylde is dismayed. “But the king has a wife.”

Daeron snickers. “Yes, and that has always proved to be such a deterrent in the past.”

“Daeron,” Aegon cautions mildly.

The youngest Targaryen brother obediently sobers and shows the palms of his hands in contrition. “My apologies.” He hides his face with a slurp of his wine cup.

“And what about Cregan Stark?!” Otto exclaims. “You’d encourage his outrage, his Northerner savagery? Seven hells, he thinks you’re spending your days raping his betrothed, do you imagine that will not invoke fiercer wrath, put all of us at greater risk?!”

“Lord Stark was never a reachable ally to our cause, in my estimation,” Larys says calmly.

“That’s not the point, Larys! The point is—!”

“I can offer you something in return for the heightened danger you have assumed,” you interrupt, and these men stare at you as if suddenly remembering that you are here in the room with them, not a phantom or a myth or a cautionary tale but someone real. Aegon glances over, one eyebrow raised on his drawn, perspiring face. He doesn’t know what you’re going to say either.

Otto peers menacingly across the table. “What could you possibly have to barter with? The king is well enough now. He will live with or without you.”

“I have information. I know the workings of Rhaenyra’s council in the leadup to Rook’s Rest.”

“You attended her council meetings?”

“No, but I spent evenings with my father and brothers as they discussed them.”

Otto sits back in his chair, pondering you. After a moment, he nods. “Go on then.”

“I want one concession before I reveal what I know.”

“Besides being permitted indefinite room and board in the Red Keep, which you are in no way entitled to?”

“Not negotiable,” Aegon says.

Otto chuckles, humorless, incredulous, shaking his head. “Fucking insane. Alright. What is it you want, girl?”

“If any member of House Celtigar is taken captive, I want them to be given the opportunity to swear fealty to King Aegon and receive a full pardon for their sins. If they refuse, they are to go to the Night’s Watch, not the scaffold.”

“That’s your price? That’s it?”

“Yes.”

Otto is amused. “Nothing for you? No gold, no land?”

“No.” The prospect hadn’t even occurred to you.

“Not very self-serving. So unlike a Celtigar.” Otto grins, not kindly at all. “Your terms are accepted.”

You begin. “The Greens possess great wealth, now split for safekeeping between Oldtown, Casterly Rock, and the Iron Bank of Braavos. But Rhaenyra’s funds are far more finite. My father has enriched her coffers in part with taxes placed upon houses of the Crownlands. You are always seeking new allies, people you can turn from her side to yours, Corlys Velaryon, the Dragonseeds. Thus far, you have been unsuccessful.” Otto frowns, but he is listening. “I know there are families who have compelling grievances concerning my father’s taxes. Families who have become disenchanted with Rhaenyra’s leadership…or lack thereof, they might say. Rosby, Stokeworth, Cave, Langward, Bourney, Boggs, Hardy, Chyttering. Probably others as well now. They occupy a tactically significant position, being so near to Dragonstone and Driftmark. And I believe if you wrote to them, they would answer.”

“I’ll send ravens,” Otto says. He marvels at you, like a puzzlingly strange creature, a luminescent fang-toothed fish from the depths of the ocean, a direwolf from beyond the Wall. “You don’t want your side to win this war?”

“I want the killing to stop. For both sides.”

“Well, you won’t get that. The bitch will never surrender. That hope died with little Luke Strong.” Otto glowers bitterly at where Aemond stands in the shadowy corner, but he addresses you. “That is your impression as well? She was entertaining the possibility of a truce before he died at Storm’s End?”

You steal a glimpse of Aemond, and you are struck by an unexpected stab of sympathy for him, compassion that feels like a betrayal of your knowledge of the torture he had planned for you. But what is there to say but the truth? “Rhaenyra was considering it very seriously. She and Daemon quarreled over the subject.”

“Of course they did.” Otto looks at Criston, then back to Aemond. “When are you leaving?”

“Soon,” Criston answers for the prince regent. “Very soon.”

“Not soon enough,” Otto spits like venom, and everyone else averts their eyes.

“My lord,” Larys intercedes. “There is one more matter to discuss, and I believe it will be of great interest to His Grace the king.”

Aegon is struggling to concentrate. He blinks groggily at the Master of Whisperers, his brow creased with pain. You smooth his damp, white-blond hair back from his face, threading his braid through your fingertips; you refill his wine cup and give it to him. When Aegon lifts it to his lips, his hands shake so badly he spills scarlet beads like blood down his chin. He wipes them away with his sleeve. Grand Maester Orwyle offers him a small glass bottle of milk of the poppy, but Aegon refuses it.

“Is he alright?” Daeron mutters to you.

“He’s fine. He’s tired, that’s all.”

“Waste no time, Lord Larys,” Aegon says. “I fear Grandsire’s ire has exhausted me. He’s more ferocious than a dragon. We should find a saddle that fits, perhaps Criston could ride him to the Riverlands.”

“Keep guzzling wine, I’m sure that will improve your condition,” Otto bites back.

Larys continues: “It concerns Rook’s Rest.”

Now he has everyone’s attention. “What about Rook’s Rest?” Aegon says. Instinctively, he’s begun twisting the golden dragon ring on his left hand.

“I received word one hour ago that the Blacks have retaken it.”

“What?!” Otto shouts; the rest of the table is in uproar. Criston stands and goes to conspire with Aemond in the corner of the council chamber, urgent indecipherable whispers.

“Sunfyre,” Aegon says frantically. “I have to go to him, I have to get him out—”

“He is already gone, Your Grace,” Larys replies.

“Gone…?”

“Lord Walys Mooton went down to the beach to slay the dragon once his men had taken the castle. He was burned alive.”

“Perfect,” Daeron says, beaming radiantly.

“Lord Mooton’s men fled for their lives, and when they returned, Sunfyre had disappeared. He could not be found anywhere in the vicinity of Rook’s Rest. Moreover, his footprints in the sand stopped abruptly. Which means he must have departed—”

“Into the water…?” Tyland Lannister says, perplexed.

“No,” Larys corrects him. “Into the sky.”

“Sunfyre is flying again?” Aegon asks, his face childlike, astonished.

“That’s impossible,” Criston says. “His wing was broken, I saw it.”

Larys drums his fingers on the tabletop. “I cannot conceive of any other explanation.”

“Then he’ll find me.” Aegon smiles. Sweat snakes down his temples; his face is white, bloodless, barren like the moon. “When Sunfyre is ready, he’ll find me and we’ll be together again.”

“Oh, thank the gods,” Otto exhales. “The Old, the New, that ghastly Drowned one…” He waves a hand at you. “And do you have any to add, Lady Celtigar? Some crab deity your traitorous people worship?”

“I regret to disappoint you, my lord. To my knowledge we have none.”

“Three useable dragons,” Otto says, mostly to himself. “Three is good. With three, we have a chance. And if I can recruit Vermithor or Silverwing…”

“I should go with you when you and Criston march north,” Daeron tells Aemond.

“No,” Aemond returns immediately.

“If you’re going after Daemon, you could use me,” Daeron insists. “Tessarion and I can help.”

“You are needed in the Reach with Lord Ormund Hightower.”

“You just want him all to yourself,” Daeron realizes, exasperated. “You want to be able to say that you were the person to neutralize the Blacks’ greatest asset, that you won the war—!”

Criston says: “He’s not going on some suicide mission chasing Daemon and Caraxes all over the Riverlands. He’s staying with me and the army. He’s using Vhagar logically, responsibly. Right, Aemond?”

“Of course,” Aemond answers, entirely toneless.

Otto whirls to Aegon. “And when will you be able to fight again? Soon, I hope. Surely the culmination of your existence is not one single instance of utility before lapsing back into being some drunken, idiot degenerate.”

In reply, Aegon moans and crumples to the floor. Grand Maester Orwyle and the men of the Kingsguard rush to him, but Criston gets there first; when you cannot rouse the king, Criston throws him over one shoulder—increasingly difficult with each pound Aegon gains, softness and health that you consider a great victory—and ferries him back to bed. As you follow after them, you hesitate in the doorway of the council chamber. Now that Criston is gone, Otto has crossed the room and pinned Aemond to the wall. His large hands, heavy with rings, are pressed to Aemond’s chest; his face is snarling, wicked, callous.

“You have to fix this. You have to end it.”

“I know,” Aemond replies softly.

“Everything that’s happened is your fault.”

“I know,” Aemond says again, then rips free from Otto’s grasp and flees the room.

~~~~~~~~~~

Two days later, Criston leads his army out of the city. They will meet reinforcements on the road between the capital and the Riverlands. There is infantry on foot and cavalry on horses; above them in a blue sky cluttered with vast, cottony clouds are Aemond and Vhagar. As they head north, Daeron and Tessarion fly south towards the Reach to rejoin Ormund Hightower and his men. In Winterfell, Cregan Stark is receiving word of where (and with whom) his betrothed currently resides. At Harrenhal, Daemon and Nettles are kindling rumors like dry wood in a fire. On Dragonstone, Rhaenyra is nursing her rage and paranoia like a hungry child, like a wounded man who has milk of the poppy poured down his throat. And you remain static here in King’s Landing, anchored, steadfast, something immoveable like the ocean or the shore it meets.

You can see Aegon’s bedchamber windows from the beach. You keep glancing up at them, though you know he won’t be there; the sunlight is too harsh today, the potential damage to his skin too great. In a month, he may be able to venture outside as he used to. In two or three, he might be able to fight again. He might be able to kill more than just one errant Norcross boy who dared to touch you.

“Helaena wouldn’t come down to join us?” you ask Autumn. You’re walking with her in the surf, the hems of your held aloft so the froth of the waves can wash over your ankles. Perhaps ten yards away and out of earshot, Alicent is kneeling in the sand and playing with Jaehaera and Maelor. They are her great comfort now; they are not the only purpose she has left, but they are the kindest. Their tiny hands are preoccupied with building a sandcastle and adorning it with seashells, pebbles, shards of driftwood, strings of seaweed like green ribbons. You’ve started to notice how much Jaehaera resembles Aegon, his murky blue eyes and his high cheekbones and his gentleness that no one else seems to recognize. You’ve started to see him everywhere you look.

Autumn shrugs, her face apologetic. Her hair is more than just copper in the afternoon daylight; it is fire, it is blood. “I really tried. You know how she is.”

“I’ll visit her afterwards.”

“She unnerves me,” Autumn says, stroking her round belly and shuddering. She earns her keep here by helping to look after Helaena, Jaehaera, and Maelor. Aegon treats Autumn the same way he treats his wife and children, which is to say he generally ignores her; on the rare occasion he is subjected to her presence for more than a fleeting moment, he becomes uneasy, irritable. Autumn does not appear to be offended. She says this is the best job she’s ever had. “She’s always muttering the strangest things. Caterpillars and crabs and dragons and only the gods know what else. Yesterday she told me not to dance with the half-year queen. What the fuck does that mean?”

“Helaena’s a bit different,” you admit.

“She’s inbred, that’s what she is. I can’t imagine what those kids are going to grow up to be like. A brother and sister for parents? It’s a wonder they don’t have feathers or tails.” Autumn taps the swell of her belly. “At least this one—if it’s a Targaryen after all—has had its bloodline thoroughly diluted.”

You watch her standing there in the fiery late-afternoon light, this body that has comforted, consoled, satisfied, suffered, known so many men. “What does it feel like?” you ask quietly.

“What? Being with child?”

“No, the…um…the act that led to it.”

“Oh, yes.” Autumn stretches with her hands on the small of her back and smiles vaguely, nostalgically. “That’s the strange thing. It can feel like heaven or hell or nothing at all. If the man knows what he’s doing, and cares enough to try, he can make it better for you.”

“Better how?”

She furrows her brow, shoots you a skeptical sideways glance. She is aware that you are inexperienced, but the extent of your blind spots continuously shock her. It occurs to you that perhaps naivety is a privilege; some cannot recall a time before they were acquainted with truths of the world that others consider forbidden. “You know. He’ll use his hands or his mouth to get you ready. Or better yet, both at once.”

“Ready,” you repeat, not understanding.

“Well, you see…” Autumn takes a moment to decide how best to explain. “Men change when they are aroused, yes? Women do the same. It takes longer, and it is not always so obvious. But it is vital. The more ready you are, the more comfortably he will fit inside you.”

“And what if he doesn’t get you ready? If he doesn’t have the skill, or he doesn’t believe it’s necessary, or he doesn’t even know that’s something women require?” Or he just wants to hurt you. He just wants to watch you bleed like something he goes into the woods to kill and gut and devour.

Autumn smirks cynically. “That depends.”

“On what?”

“The sizes involved. Some men are bigger than others, and women have different dimensions as well. Couples can be well-matched or not. Sometimes it isn’t too bad. Sometimes it feels like you’re being ripped apart. And that doesn’t necessarily stop after the first time either.”

“And you can’t say no.”

“You can say no all you want. But he doesn’t have to listen.”

You peer out over Blackwater Bay, sunbeams flashing on wave crests and gulls swooping in the reddening sky. But you don’t really see it. What you see are fingerprints of dirt or ash on your thighs, snow in your hair, books laden with dust, fur coats and evergreen trees, rust-stains of blood on bedsheets.

“I’ve heard that Lord Stark is a very large man,” Autumn nudges. She knows, everyone knows.

“He’s massive,” you say forlornly. “He’s taller than Aemond and twice as broad.”

“The king isn’t so big,” she says, pretending that the thought has just popped into her mind, as if she hasn’t noticed the way you and Aegon look at each other, speak to each other, find excuses to touch each other.

“No,” you agree in a whisper.

“And he’s not a brute. I can’t fairly speak to his skill, I never had him anywhere close to sober. But he has no appetite for women’s pain. That’s a valuable gem in a man, it’s like stumbling across a ruby or a pearl.”

You nod; but you don’t want to think about Autumn lying with Aegon. You don’t want to think about the child they might share. In a world so dark, it seems cruel to begrudge people creating life where none existed before. But when you picture Aegon touching someone else, that darkness seeps in through your skin like rain soaks the earth and can’t find its way out. “We’re going to the library together tomorrow, aren’t we?”

Autumn groans. “Did I agree to that? I don’t believe I did.”

She did not, this is true; you badgered, she deflected. “You’ll enjoy it.”

“I am illiterate.”

“I told you. I’ll teach you how to read.”

“Why would I want to stare at ink marks in a book all day when I could be outside in the sunshine listening to the ocean and herding inbred little freaks like sheep?”

“Because books can take you anywhere,” you say.

“I like where I am. I’ve never seen anyplace better.”

“Okay, Autumn,” you concede, smiling. “I’ll ask again tomorrow. Hopefully you’ll change your mind.”

“Say hello to Helaena for me,” she says, meandering back towards Alicent and the children. Her footprints in the sand are erased when the gurgling waves roll over them. “Maybe one of those fancy books can help you translate lunacy into the Common Tongue.”

Upstairs in her bedchamber, Helaena is standing in front of an open window. It doesn’t offer a view of the ocean; it is positioned over a courtyard of sandstone and chatting courtiers. Helaena does not seem to hear them. She gazes out into the sunset, celestial rage on her impassive face.

“He’s leaving soon,” she says, not turning to look at you.

“Who, Helaena? Aemond? He left days ago. He’s already gone, he’s on his way to the Riverlands. But he’ll be back soon.” You don’t know if that’s true—it probably isn’t, in fact—but you’re certain that Helaena misses him. Her children do too; he is more of a father to them than Aegon has ever been, not in body but in soul.

She only repeats: “He’s leaving soon.”

“Helaena, what—?”

“He’ll leave you. Then you’ll leave him. He’ll make you.”

At last, and very slowly, she revolves like the stripe of shadow across a sundial. In her cupped palms is a butterfly, shimmering gold wings and spiderlike black legs. It takes flight, flutters aimlessly through the vermillion air, escapes out the open window.

~~~~~~~~~~

A peculiar twist of fate: his palm on your forehead, his whispers through your hair. Now he is the one who has stolen into your bed when the moon and stars hang high in the darkness outside. There is a noise somewhere beyond him, disembodied and hazy, that reminds you of torrential rain: omnipresent, thunderous.

“Angel,” Aegon is saying. “Wake up. Please wake up. I have to go.”

Go? Go where? You murmur, still half-asleep: “You can’t leave.” He isn’t strong enough yet. He can’t fight, he can’t run.

“I have to. They’re here.”

“Who…?”

The answer comes from the sounds that you are only now awake enough to understand: screaming, pounding boots, slamming doors, the ravenous crackling of fire, the shrieking of dragons. You have learned all of their unearthly voices. That’s not Vhagar or Tessarion or Sunfyre or Dreamfyre… It flashes by your windows, a comet of gold and flames.

You bolt out of bed. “Rhaenyra—?!”

“Rhaenyra, Syrax, Daemon, Caraxes.”

Daemon shouldn’t be here. He should be losing battles to Aemond and Criston. “But he’s at Harrenhal!”

“Not anymore.” Aegon takes your hand and pulls you out into the hallway, the hem of your nightgown billowing around your legs, his short silver hair flying behind him. There are servants and guards rushing by you, weeping, shouting, searching for places to hide. Grand Maester Orwyle ambles towards the rookery to send out ravens. Several rooms away, you can hear Helaena wailing and Autumn trying to soothe her. Larys Strong intercepts Aegon and gives him a hooded cloak; Aegon yanks it over his bare, mutilated chest, whimpering as the rapid movement strains the red-and-ivory disarray of scar tissue that used to be his skin. “You have everything?” he asks Larys hoarsely. You notice now that the Master of Whisperers has a satchel slung over one shoulder.

“Yes, Your Grace. Milk of the poppy, rose oil, the crown.”

“Wine?”

Larys produces a bottle. Aegon gulps down half of it, then passes the rest to you. You hesitate before finishing the wine, red like the sigil of House Celtigar, like fire, like blood. “They are closing all roads out of the city,” Larys tells Aegon, speaking swiftly. “King’s Landing will be taken. We will surrender. We cannot fight a dragon, let alone two.”

“Aemond and Criston—?”

“Daemon must have outflanked them.”

Aegon grabs your hand again and does not let go as he trails Larys through corridors and down claustrophobically tight spiral staircases. “The roads are blocked,” Aegon explains to you breathlessly. “But there are secret passageways beneath the castle. I know them. Larys knows them. Daemon probably knows them too, but he has other places to be.”

And through a window of a staircase, you see him: Caraxes spiraled around the apex of the Tower of the Hand, screaming fire into the sky before descending the length of the tower towards the hoards of hysterical courtiers fleeing below, his claws jostling loose bricks that rain down on them.

The bottom of the stairwell opens up into a large, dusty, dirt-floored chamber with stone tunnels leading in every direction like spokes of a wheel. Alicent is there, sobbing wildly, and so is Otto. Otto is telling Jaehaera that she must be a brave little girl and go with Sir Willis Fell. Alicent is giving little Maelor over to Sir Rickard Thorne, your once-alleged-kinfolk. The child is panicked and crying, flushed face and white hair. Aegon glances at the scene and then keeps moving, towing you along with him.

“Princess Jaehaera will go to Storm’s End,” Larys says. “Prince Maelor will go to Oldtown. They face execution if they stay. We must risk smuggling them out of the city.”

“What about Aegon?” you ask as the three of you hasten into a corridor thick with cobwebs and illuminated by torchlight. The stone ceiling is arched and perhaps seven feet tall; faintly, you can still hear the muffled turmoil of King’s Landing falling to Rhaenyra and Daemon.

“I’m going Dragonstone.” And it does not elude you that he didn’t say we. “If Rhaenyra is here, that likely means Dragonstone is vacant. I will go to the Crownlands families that you believe to be willing to betray her and beg them for support. I will take Dragonstone and prepare a counterassault from there. Hopefully Sunfyre will find me. Hopefully I’m not killed on the way.”

“Okay,” you say. “I’m going too.”

“You’re staying in King’s Landing.”

“No.” You stop dead, wrenching your hand out of Aegon’s. “No, what if you get hurt, or sick, or what if you get really bad again—?!”

“Listen!” he shouts with dire intensity, his eyes wide and pleading in the torchlight. “I can’t protect you. I can’t even protect myself. There could be bandits on the road, there could be Black soldiers, there could be animals, there could be fucking anything. I can’t take you with me. I don’t know if I’ll be able to get to Dragonstone. But I know if I stay here Rhaenyra will murder me. I don’t have a choice. I have one option, and it’s not good. But you’ll be safe in King’s Landing.”

“Aegon, no—”

“The Blacks don’t think you’re here by choice. They think I’ve imprisoned you. Tell them that’s what happened and they will welcome you back. Your family will protect you.”

“Aegon, please don’t—”

His palm on your cheek, his braid coming unraveled in his hair. “You will wait out the war with them. And when it’s over I’ll find you.” Tears glistening in his eyes, his voice going soft and tender. “If I’m still alive, I’ll find you. I swear to all the gods I will.”

He’s leaving. He’s really leaving. “What can I do?” you ask, your words strangled; your throat is burning, your eyes wet. “What can I do to help you?”

And you expect him to say things you already know: Don’t tell anyone where I’ve gone. Don’t tell anyone what you’ve heard in the Greens’ council meetings. Instead, Aegon grins as he says: “Try to get one of your three superfluous sisters to seduce Cregan Stark.”

You laugh, the sound echoing off ancient, filthy stones.

“My mother and Otto are waiting for you. You will be with them when they are taken to Rhaenyra. They are high-ranking prisoners of war, they will be spared the brutality of the Black soldiers and so will you. They will corroborate that you were my captive.”

“I understand.”

“I have to go now,” Aegon says like an apology, swiping tears from your face with his thumbs. He breaks away from you and follows Larys Strong down the tunnel. They are shadows under the torchlight, cloaks and whispers.

“Aegon,” you call after him, and he stops. I never told you what I wanted. I never told you what I feel for you. “What if I never see you again?”

You don’t know what you want him to do or say. There’s nothing that could make this right. But he soars back to you, takes you roughly and desperately, buries his hands in your hair and kisses you deeply, tasting like wine and heat and the smoke filling the world outside. He means for it to be quick, but he can’t stop. His tongue darts between your lips, his hips press to yours, you arch into him wanting more, infinitely more.

What was I so afraid of? you think dizzily. How could I be afraid of anything with him?

“Your Grace,” Larys appeals regretfully. “Please. We don’t have much time.”

Aegon twists off his dragon ring—gold wings, jade eyes—and slips it onto your left hand. And you’re still staring down at it, mystified, as Aegon disentangles himself from you and vanishes into the darkness.

#aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii #aegon targaryen #aegon targaryen ii #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon ii x y/n #aegon x reader #aegon ii x you #aegon ii fic #aegon ii x reader #aegon targaryen ii x you #aegon targaryen x you #aegon ii targaryen x reader

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mandarinmoons · 1 month

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Can I ask for Spencer x reader but reader is superstitious and hates his mismatched socks so he wears them more and she’s all grumbly about like “it’s bad luck” and it’s cute and fluffy where he pretends he’s getting bad luck so she can say “I told you so” bc he thinks she’s so cute

Hehe I love this x

Spencer had a few habits and one of those habits of his was wearing mismatched socks. As much as you loved the man you couldn’t help by being bothered by it. You were a bit of a perfectionist and seeing Spencer wearing a bright green sock on one foot with a purple and yellow striped one on the other, it drove you insane. Plus, you had a bit of a theory.

Spencer was known to be a bit of a clutz and with you being somewhat superstitious, you had a hunch that Spencer’s favorite unmatched accessory was causing him his bad fortune.

You were in the bedroom getting ready for the day when you heard Spencer yelp and hiss in the kitchen.

Walking over to him you saw him wipe a wet sponge over his now coffee stained shirt.

“I think you should just change your shirt,” you chuckled and took the sponge from his hands, running it over the fabric to get most of the stain off.

“I might as well yeah.”

“Hey, I had a thought.”

“What about?”

“You know how you can be a bit of a clutz? What if it’s because of your socks?”

“Sweetie, you know that I don’t believe in superstitions.”

“I know I know, you’re a man of science and I respect that, but what if you tried it out, just for a day or two?"

Spencer loved you, and he also wasn’t one to argue, especially when it came to you, so he agreed and went to change his socks.

“Don’t forget to change your shirt too, hun!”

Spencer sighed and mumbled “right,” as he walked back to the closet and reached for a new shirt. Knowing the team though, the topic of him wearing matching socks would be of greater interest to everyone than why he was coming to work with a stained shirt.

Throughout the day you texted Spencer to ask him how he was doing and to know if he had managed to drop a box full of case files on his foot again. Surprisingly enough none of the usual had happened, but what Spencer had failed to let you know was that the team were told to do desk work for the week because they had been on too many cases lately and it was the higher up’s way of giving everyone a “break”.

Spencer decided to use it to his advantage and to put a smile on your face. He didn’t mind you saying “I told you so” to him, because God knows how many times he’s given you a look with that same sentence written all over his face. He always felt bad for doing it later on and would resort to cuddling with you and peppering your face with kisses.

After a few days of the experiment it was time for Spencer to put on the performance of his lifetime. He walked through the door and he was immediately met with you leaning against the doorway with a small smirk on your lips.

“Well?”

“No accidents in the past couple of days!”

“Ha! See, I told you!” you nearly tackled the poor guy in a hug which made both of you laugh.

“I guess so hun. I do miss the way I wore them though so I will go back to that, but I’ll try and wear more matched ones if it’s an extremely important case.”

“That’s what I like to hear.”

Taglist: @radioactiveinvisible @whoisspence @sreidisms @lanascinnamongirls @luvkatryna @sp3ncelle @iluvreid @khxna @keiva1000 @reidstheyfriend @hiireadstuff @pleasantwitchgarden @cynbx @kimm4710 @niktwazny303 @reidsdaisies @mindfullycriminal

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honeykaes · 2 years

Text

—𝐩𝐮𝐭 𝐚 𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐭

✦ fucking you before your wedding feat. zhongli, kaeya, ayato, diluc

✦ warning: smut, 18+ content, minors do not interact

✦ disclaimer: afab!reader with no set pronouns, bath sex (zhongli), cockwarming (zhongli), exhibitionism (kaeya), modern au (kaeya), reader wearing lingerie (kaeya), gagging (kaeya), cunniligus (kaeya), fingering (kaeya), implied blowjob (kaeya), foodplay (ayato), nippleplay(ayato), titjob (ayato), semi-exhibitionism (ayato), consenual somnophilia (diluc), handjob (diluc), riding (diluc), impact play (diluc), marking (diluc), creampies (diluc), unedited

Zhongli couldn’t help but want to pamper you the night before you’re wedding together, pouring out a warm relaxing bath to melt away any of the stressors the next day holds. As glaze lilies floated above, their scent intoxicating the steamy bathroom—you’re eyes wandered to Zhongli, closing the door with a small towel covering his lower form.

Even as you looked away and shifted watching the towel dropped onto the floor, his arms gathering you between his thighs, he let out a deep chuckle into your ear, muttering that the two of you would be partaking in one of the most important contracts in his lifetime…for you to be shy to still see him nude.

As his strong hands went up rubbing and massaging your shoulders, plush lips pressing across the soft damped skin of your neck, he couldn’t help moaning feeling your soft ass nestle against his slowly growing cock. Your soft moans echoed out, feeling his black, glowing fingers snake to your clit—massaging circles onto it, as another pressed against your folds, opening it up.

Golden eyes glowed, watching your hole underneath the water quiver between his cock, just as he slowly sank in. His lips burned on your cheeks, trying to dull the pain away of the gradual burn of your walls stretching to accommodate his cock, trying not to smile at your whimpers and sighs as he always seemed to struggle to fit inside of you.

His body only held you close, letting his hips slightly buck—pace cruelly slow, as he continuously pressed those kisses on your sensitive neck. He can’t seem to hold himself you know, feeling your velvety walls clamp down rubbing along the thick veins of his cock. No matter how much you cried out to go faster, his slow unforgiving pace stayed the same as his head kneaded against your chest.

He didn’t like to reveal how selfish he was, but when it came to you, it seemed like he was always greedy for your love and attention.

The two of you decided to go to the mall to pick up any last things before the wedding in a couple of days. As he went off to grab a snack in the food court, you decided to head to the lingerie store to figure out what set could properly…surprise him the night you two consummate your marriage.

What you didn’t realize were watchful lilac eyes, following you as you wandered throughout the store. Grabbing a couple of sets, ranging in different laces and designs, you finally head towards the back to make sure everything fits you before you make your decision. Just as you were changing, a figure covers your mouth—a grin on Kaeya’s face as you whined about him scaring you.

Just as you tried to rush him out, saying you were trying to figure out what lingerie to wear for the wedding, Kaeya couldn’t help pressing his front on your behind. You could feel how hard he was in his pants, the tent rubbing against the lacy bottoms you were adorned with.

Ushering you to the chair, he grabbed another pair of lingerie, tapping your fingers to open up with a coo, before shoving that pair inside of your mouth. His hands gripped onto your soft thighs, opening them up swiping the fabric to see your hole—slick already gathering up and pooling on your own panties.

Lapping up his lips, he pressed the flat of his tongue on your clit, curling and swiping the muscles as your hands shot up to his soft hair. You could feel him kiss the sensitive nub before encasing it in his mouth, sucking and tugging on it causing you to yelp his name thankfully muffled from the panties in your mouth.

Feeling you squirm rapidly flicking his tongue on it, caused your hips to buck and shoot up, your back arching as you finally reached your peak. Kaeya could only lift his head up, the bottom half of his face glistening in your slick before two of his fingers plowed inside of you, curling and pressing on your sponge inside as you shut your eyes closed. You heard the zipper of his jeans echo out, as he freed his cock, brown tip pressing against your soft lips.

This was your fault for seducing him, he’d tell you, after all, he wasn’t patient enough to open his gifts the day he was supposed to get them. That’s okay though, he’ll give you the perfect teaser for the night of your wedding together. <3

The beloved head of the Kamisato conglomerate could only sigh when he saw yet another small cake in front of him. He was getting tired of the same old sweetness—from the fluffiness of the cake to the average buttercream on top. He could hardly stand it, but when his lavender eyes turned to you at least you seemed to be thrilled.

Just as you finished biting into your orange blossom cake, the last one before the two of you decided on the flavor of your wedding cake, he noticed you turned to face him, confused about why he was staring at you. He could only stifle a laugh, seeing cream stick onto the side of your lips.

Ignoring your question, Ayato asked for his servants to leave the area until he calls them again, as the two of you had to make an important decision. Just as you were going to ask why he did that, Ayato grabbed your chin, tongue probing out swiping the cream staining your lips. You sighed, muttering what he was up before his fingers hands underneath your top, lips nibbling the tender area of your neck.

Humor him, please? He’s been suffering from such insufferable cakes for a while, for the wedding. He deserves something after dealing with all of that, right?

He finally exposed your top, pressing you down on the newly freed-up table, lapping his lips up noticing how the exposed buds of your nipples hardened in the new temperature. Swiping some of the frosting from one of the small cakes, he smeared it across your chest as you gasped, feeling the stick substance cling to your skin.

His hand grabbed onto part of your chest as the other, licked the sweet substance along your nipples, tongue swirling along the hardened bub before plopping it into his mouth altogether. His name whispered from your lips, watching his hips grind onto the table, clearly desperate to appease his hardened cock underneath his clothes.

As he finally cleaned the sweet substance off, your upper half glistening from his saliva, he unlatched his belt tugging his slacks down before pressing his cock towards your chest again. He grabbed the mounds of your chest once more, pressing them against his cock as he slowly thrust up, sighing in delight at how soft they were against his length. His pace picked up, sliding it along your warm skin.

Watching a bud of precum slowly leaving his bright pink tip, his hips suddenly halted, eyes shutting tight as ropes of cum shot out, sploshing your skin with the thick white essence. A gentle sigh erupted from his lips, leaning over to wipe a bit of cum that managed to connect on your lower cheek.

Even if preparing for the wedding is stressful for him, he had you to at least entertain him to the fullest. It was part of the reason that gold ring shined on your fingertip.

Diluc felt his chest fluttering, pleasure running throughout his entire body. Was he that excited to be wedded today? No, his body couldn’t be reacting to this from just that. D-Did he have a dream he couldn’t remember? No..that couldn’t be it either.

As he slowly opened his eyes, his lips parted as a low moan escaped. Scarlet eyes gazed down at your hands, tightly gripping his heavy cock, jerking it rapidly as your lips pressed against his salty tip. Your eyes flickered up, smiling as his stomach churned. His hands shot up at the bedboard, hips jumping up as thick globs of his cum shot out, pooling on your tongue.

Watching your swallow with a smile, Diluc lost all rationale on what day it even was. All he was focused on was getting his cock inside of you. He grabbed your hips, lining you above his unsoftened cock, before plunging you down—bottoming out quickly. You clung onto him as he bounced you on it, tip nudging against your cervix as you gyrate your hips. The palm of his calloused hand smacked down your ass, the skin burning from the strick, as his lips connected with yours.

As you two parted lips, a string of saliva still connecting you, his attention fell onto your neck sucking and nibbling on the skin, a hickey you would surely have to hide afterward. He began to thrust up meeting the bounces he was causing you to do. Your hands gripped your chest, and your back arched crying out his name as you climaxed. Feeling your walls contract and squeeze against his cock was enough for him as well, globs of his cum pouring out, staining your walls white.

The two of you tried catching your breath, as you leaned against his bare chest, watching the redness stain Diluc’s pale cheeks. He couldn’t believe he had just done that…Did he crave you that much he couldn’t even wait until tonight? The urge to cover his blushing face was strong, even when you pepped it with kisses, assuring him you just wanted to give him a treat before you get ready yourself.

Still, watching you slowly get up, his cock leaving you and cum beginning to drip down your thighs. He couldn’t help but reach his hand back out and pin you against the sheets. Just…one more round and the two of you could get ready for the big day, okay?

One turned to two, two to five. It took him to realize the slow river of cum leaving your sobbing cunt, ass in the air as your exhausted face stayed in the sheets, he realized that he may have gotten ahead of himself. That, and the fact his best man was knocking on the door to “cut it out until tonight”.

#genshin impact x reader #genshin impact smut #genshin x reader #genshin smut #zhongli x reader #zhongli smut #kaeya x reader #kaeya smut #ayato x reader #ayato smut #diluc x reader #diluc smut

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writingpastmybedtime · 2 months

Text

Happily Ever After

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: Y/N is feeling conflicted on her wedding day. Despite the expectations of her family, Y/N realizes that her heart belongs to another. Encountering Bucky before the ceremony, Y/N confronts her doubts and ultimately decides to follow her heart, fleeing the wedding and running into Bucky's waiting car.

Word Count: 1,7+

A/N: Bucky is a knight in shining armour. Please comment and let me know what you think!

A wedding day was supposed to be a happy day filled with love and joy. A day to remember for the rest of your life as one of the most important events. Everyone was supposed to be smiling and shedding happy tears throughout the day, making memories that would last them a lifetime.

But why did it feel so wrong?

Y/N was pacing around in her room, biting her nails, no doubt the manicure she had gotten yesterday was already a bit chipped and messed up. She didn’t care, though. Her body was trembling, she couldn’t breathe properly and she didn’t have anyone around that could calm her nerves.

Her parents had been joyous at the engagement and at the time it had felt right. At least she kept telling herself that. Reminding herself of everyone else’s happiness. But she had never truly been happy in the relationship.

Perhaps the real truth had always been there. The relationship was something that happened over the course of many years, mostly due to her mother’s and future mother-in-law’s meddling.

The older women had been neighbours for years and when they found out their children were similar in age the matchmaking had begun. Y/N had to admit that Robert was handsome and a true gentleman, but he hadn’t ignited something deeper in her soul. Not like someone else had in the past. Someone that her parents had deemed wrong for her many years prior.

A soft knock was heard on the door and she turned around coming face to face with the culprit who had stolen her heart and who her soul belonged to.

“Bucky? What are you doing here? I thought you said you weren’t going to come,” she smiled softly at Bucky and took in his attire. He was wearing his usual black leather jacket, but underneath it lay a black button-up shirt instead of his usual colored henley.

Bucky Barnes was the most handsome man she had ever seen, and the way he looked at her right now made her question all of the life choices that had led her to this moment.

He came closer to her, shaking his head as he took her in.

“Wow, doll,” he said in a whisper, his voice cracking and she swore she could see tears in his eyes.

“You look breathtaking,” he placed both of his hands on her cheek, making her look up at him.

She was right, his eyes were glossy, and seeing him so emotional made her own eyes start to tear up.

He whispered her name softly, as the first tear fell from her eyes.

“Don’t cry, it’s supposed to be a happy day.”

She closed her eyes and shook her head. Grasping onto his hands that still held her face.

“But why does it feel so wrong?”

He sighed as he placed his forehead on hers. They stood there for a while, completely in silence and taking in each other’s company.

“I’m going to wait for you in my car if you end up choosing to go against your family.”

Y/N opened her eyes at that, smiling at Bucky. They had had this same conversation two days ago.

“Bucky, you know I can’t do that.”

He abruptly pulled away then, shaking his head at her comment. There was a storm behind his eyes and Y/N knew he wasn’t pleased in the slightest about the predicament she was in. His fingers were shaking as he paced around the room, obviously angry.

“Why? Why do you have to put everyone else’s happiness above your own? What about your happily ever after” He asked as he pulled at his hair, avoiding the smaller ones' gaze.

Y/N looked away from him, tears flowing easily now. He had a point, she knew it, but she couldn’t risk losing her family. Bucky was giving her a choice she could never accept.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered and Bucky looked at her then. He sighed and moved closer to her once more.

“I meant what I said. I’m going to be waiting for you. I’ll wait until I see the doors open and you both walk out hand-in-hand. Only then, I’ll leave. But if at any moment, any at all, you finally decide to choose your own happiness before the ceremony is over, I’ll be ready.” He closed the distance between them and laid a tender kiss on her forehead, before leaving her alone in the room once more.

15 minutes later, Y/N was walking down the aisle, after having successfully fixed her makeup and removed any obvious signs of her breakdown.

She had noticed her parents first. Their proud smiles and her mother’s nod irked something in her, but she tried her best to ignore it and kept walking further. She noticed Robert next. He looked good in his grey suit with a satisfied smile on his face, and suddenly she realised that he was not the one she wanted to be waiting for her at the altar.

No, he didn’t have the ocean eyes that left her breathless whenever he looked at her for more than a second. He never looked at her as if she had hung the stars and the moon up in the darkened sky and lit up the whole world.

No. Robert just looked.. Pleased.

She had had an inkling that Robert had only agreed to propose because her own family had a better income. Bucky had once mentioned it to her, a fact that left her uneasy. She had brushed it off, but seeing the way he looked at her now, as if she were a walking cash check, made her stomach churn.

She stopped dead in her tracks. Robert frowned, the guests gasped and her mother looked at her with a stern face, slowly shaking her head.

“Y/N, don’t do it.” Her mother voiced and she just grinned at everyone.

Y/N turned around and with a laugh and a newfound energy she had never felt before, ran back down the aisle towards the brown wooden doors. She could hear her mother screaming at her, but she didn’t care anymore. How had she almost gone through with the wedding when it was never something she truly wanted?

Y/N opened the door and quickly ran down the stairs, noticing the black SUV that Bucky drove. He was there like he’d promised.

The window rolled down and Bucky’s handsome face appeared.

“Do you need a ride?” He asked with a smirk, before leaning over the middle console and opening the door for her.

She sat in quickly, before looking behind her shoulder and seeing Robert and their mothers already running out of the church door.

“Go, go, go,” she yelled at him and he drove off before she could even buckle herself in. The car left the sidewalk just a second before Robert could reach her.

They sat in silence for a few seconds before both of them burst out laughing. She leaned back in her seat, feeling the rush of adrenaline still coursing through her veins.

“God, that was the most exhilarating thing I’ve ever done,” she shook her head in disbelief looking over at Bucky, who was already looking at her.

“Where to next, princess?”

The whole world was upon her now, but there was only one place she could feel the happiest.

“Take me home, Buck,” she whispered and he gave her a funny look, not understanding why she’d want to go home out of all the possibilities.

“Your place,” she corrected herself and Bucky was speechless for a second before a wide grin set on his face.

“To home it is,” he said with a proud voice.

They had driven for 30 minutes until they finally arrived at Bucky’s cabin. It was a lovely place, perfect in size and a bit further from the city, that gave them the perfect amount of privacy.

“I’ve always loved your house,” Y/N whispered as she stepped out of the car and started walking towards the house. She yelped suddenly when she felt her legs lift off the ground and found herself in Bucky’s arms.

Bridal-style.

He was smirking at her mischievously and Y/N raised an eyebrow at him.

“It’s customary to carry the bride over the threshold after the wedding,” he said and she rolled her eyes ignoring the bubbling feeling inside, loving the feel of his arms around her.

“What wedding? I don’t remember attending a ceremony,” she chuckled and he tightened his grip on her.

“Well, you’re still wearing a wedding dress.”

Once inside, he lowered her to stand, but still left his hands lingering on her waist, holding her close.

“Y/N,” he whispered her name and it sounded like honey to her ears. She closed her eyes and sighed, not remembering the last time she felt this happy. There was only one thing that could make this day better.

“Can I finally kiss you?” She opened her eyes at his question, smiling at the man in front of her.

Her one true love.

“I was just about to ask you the same,” she admitted and the smile that appeared on his face could’ve lightened up the whole room.

Without another word, Bucky closed the distance between them, his hand reaching out to gently pull her in. His touch sent shivers down Y/N’s spine as she leaned more into his embrace, her eyes fluttering closed.

And then, their lips finally met in a tender kiss, igniting a firestorm of emotions neither of them could contain. It was a kiss filled with passion, longing, and a depth of feeling that transcended words.

Time seemed to stand still as they lost themselves in each other, their bodies pressed together as if trying to merge into one. Y/N ran her fingers through Bucky’s soft hair, letting him pull herself closer as he deepened the kiss, savouring every moment of their connection.

“I love you, Y/N. Always have and always will.” He said against her lips with so much emotion that Y/N felt tears in her eyes again.

“You’re my happily ever after, Bucky. I love you.”

And as they stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, they knew that this kiss was just the beginning of their wonderful fairytale together.

thank you for reading & reblogs are appreciated <3

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x you #sebastian stan x reader #bucky barnes x reader #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan imagine #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes wedding #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes fluff

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httpjungkookcom · 2 years

Text

Please Don’t Go | JJK

Pairing | Jungkook x Reader

Word Count | 12K

Genre | Spider-Man! Jungkook x Childhood Best Friend! Reader

Summary | Jungkook’s never kept anything from you, ever. Not even the time where he tripped and accidentally kicked your dog, or when he fucked the most popular girl in high school and couldn’t make himself cum (poor guy was embarrassed for weeks), or when he accidentally rubbed all of his acceptance letters in your face without realizing. To put it short, Jungkook is an open book to you. So when he suddenly disappears, there’s a lot to question. Even more to question when he finally gets back and won’t tell you anything, going as far to avoid you. You’re on a mission to figure it out, even if it kills you.

Index | Jungkook is so smart, but so stupid at the same time. Jungkook is not sly in the slightest. Kind of angst, fighting, arguing, bickering, etc. Criminal activity, it’s a Spider-Man fic. Injuries and mention of blood. College setting and age, reader and Kook share the same major. Some cute fluffy moments in between all of the action. Aunt Yoon is essentially Aunt May in the Marvel story line.

A/N | Something kind of different than what I normally write, but I’m excited about it nonetheless!! It’s sad, cute, exciting, nerve wracking, etc. I also just love the concept of Spider Kook more than I can even explain.

All throughout your childhood years, you constantly swore that you could never truly hate Jungkook. The both of you grew up together, lived in the same apartment building with guardians that knew each other. You were always over at his apartment for annual holiday parties, or play dates (which you’re pretty sure was just babysitting because your parents worked so much.) Even in school, you both gravitated towards each other due to matching intelligence and thought processes. You can't recall a single school project that you’ve done without being partners with Jungkook, or at least in the same group. Sure, you two would play fight, argue, bicker back and forth about stupid things, or wrestle, but never truly get to a point where you hated one another. However, as you sit in class on the first day of class after break, you’re fuming. You swore you could never hate him in your entire lifetime, but right now, it’s pretty damn close. You can't think of a time where you’ve been this angry at Jungkook, face red as you fight off the urge to interrogate him to hell and back.

“Hey, are you okay?” Jungkook’s voice calls softly from beside you, almost in a whisper as class begins. You don’t even answer him, simply glancing over before returning to stare down your syllabus as you struggle to control your thoughts. You genuinely can’t understand how he disappeared all summer without a single text, call, letter, email, anything before showing back up like nothing happened. Even when you went to his aunt's apartment to check up on him (he went back home for break), she simply told you Oh, he didn't tell you? He went on a summer trip, I don't remember all the details. Before sheepishly closing the door in your face. Jungkook never keeps anything from you, you’ve told each other almost everything, that’s just what best friends do. You honestly can’t help but feel hurt that he wouldn’t think to tell you about his 2 and a ½ month summer trip before leaving. “Are you mad at me…why are you mad at me?”

“You disappeared all summer!” You mumbled, promptly being stared down by the professor and the few people around you. Finally looking at him dead on, you can’t help but notice that he looks almost completely different. It seems like he’s grown over the summer, both in muscle and height. The stupid science pun shirt that he used to wear religiously is fighting for its life, stitches straining around his bicep. If he flexed his arm, they would most likely bust apart. His hair is also much longer, dark brown locks being tucked behind his ears as he breaks eye contact with you, red face going back to his syllabus. “Why does it look like you’ve been eating steroids for breakfast and working out 24/7 during the past month? Seriously Kook, what is going on? You can’t just leave and not say anything before suddenly showing back up in the fall semester?”

Now it’s his turn to take glances at you, mouth opening and closing a few times as he struggles to answer your questions. As you wait, his face only gets increasingly red as he stumbles for an answer. He's been dying to tell you everything, truly, but he’s just not allowed to. It’s not exactly a rule put in place, but he was warned extensively of the danger that comes with sharing his secret. If you were ever hurt or in danger because of him, he doesn’t think he could ever forgive himself. He definitely wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if he wasn’t able to save you. “I just, I can't tell you. Definitely not here, not now.”

“Okay? So after school? Come over, I got lucky and my roommate isn’t gonna be home for a couple of months to study abroad.” You can feel your anger subsiding now as you talk to him normally, as if he didn’t disappear over the summer. Having him explain his disappearance while also hanging out for the afternoon almost feels like an instant relief to your summer long headache. “Also, we should see if the coffee shop still makes those sandwiches, like the little slider ones! We can stop by before we go to my-“

“Uhm…I can’t hang out after class today.” Jungkook states, almost so quietly you couldn’t hear him. He can already tell what you’re going to ask next, sinking down in his seat as if that will avoid your wrath. He feels horrible as you ask your next and final question for the day, stomach immediately dropping.

“Why?” You’re genuinely curious. You can't remember any clubs that he’s in that take place on this day, nor any other school events. Maybe an orientation of some sort that you didn’t see on the announcements? Maybe he has a doctor appointment?

“….I can’t tell you.” You're mad again.

You ignore him for the rest of the morning class, promptly shoving your notebook into your bag when the professor ends class. As you prepare to walk to your next class, you want to scream as you realize Jungkook has an almost identical schedule to you. Curse the both of you for having the same major. Jungkook follows your routine, quickly packing before exiting the lecture room, also going to the same exact math. “Listen, I want to tell you! Really, I do! It’s just I can’t.” He tries to explain without giving too many details that would compromise his identity, especially in the middle of the campus. “I've been dying to talk to you all summer, I've really missed you, you know?” He pleads his case.

“Kook, just leave me alone for now. Summer sucked because you just disappeared off the face of the Earth, and suddenly you’re just back like nothing happened. You didn’t even text me!” You mumble, sighing at nothing in particular as you finish your sulking. “I just need time to get over your sudden secret-ness from me.” A part of you wants to turn around and laugh with him, but you just can’t. It’s genuinely something that’s been bothering you and for some reason you just can’t get over it. Class goes by relatively uneventfully, the two of you barely talking. You soon come to realize that, without yours and Kook’s endless bantering, the day goes by extremely slowly.

The day ends and much to your surprise, Jungkook is almost sprinting out to the parking lot as soon as your final class wraps up. You have nothing in you to catch up and follow him, simply walking to the coffee shop by yourself. This truly does suck more than you thought it would.

While you and Jungkook were in the middle of a fight, you can’t help but become concerned as he slowly stops attending classes. He's barely ever in physical class anymore, maybe attending one day out of the entire week. Honestly, you’re unsure how he’s even still enrolled in the courses. Despite not attending often, you come to find out that he’s still enrolled, teachers constantly calling his name for attendance and getting silence instead. He's even dropped out of his clubs, which is even more concerning. Putting all of your pride aside, you decide to stop by his dorm after class today. You’re pretty sure he mentioned having a single room this year, no longer having a roommate for a bit.

Knocking on the door hard, you only hear silence in the room. There’s not the slightest shuffles that would indicate someone getting up and walking over to answer. You don’t even hear anything playing, nothing but silence and the faint conversation of other students down the hall. “Kook, if you’re in there, I’m not mad at you. Can we please just talk for a bit? I’m worried about you.” You explain, fidgeting with your fingers as you stand in front of his door. “If you don’t wanna talk, just text me? Please, Kook.” Another period of silence passes before you’re leaving with your head down.

Hi Aunt Yoon, did Kook happen to visit home? I haven't seen him a bit.

Uhm, yes actually! He’s here right now.

Great! I’ll stop by, be there in a bit.

Next stop is his childhood apartment to check up on him. Aunt Yoon is quick to open the door on the first knock, a bright smile plastered across her face as she welcomes you into the apartment. It's the exact same as always, pictures plastered across all of the walls with little to no walk space left due to furniture. It's cozy.

“Hi Aunt Yoon! I wanted to check up on Kook, I haven't seen him in a bit.” You smile, scratching the back of your neck as you stand in the middle of the walk way. She stares back at you for a few moments, not saying anything.

“Uhm, he’s not here. He just left actually, right after…you texted me. Do you want a sandwich while you wait for him?” She smiles, going to the fridge to pull out one of the pre-wrapped sandwiches you and Kook always used to share when you were young. You quickly take it and thank her before realizing what she said exactly.

You’re all types of confused now, never knowing Jungkook to be someone that seems to actively avoid seeing you. He's always come whenever you called, studied and hung around your apartment before heading home. You’re the same for him, the both of you being there whenever the other needed it. “He’s not…avoiding me? Is he?” You can feel your eyes begin to water. “He just hasn’t been coming to class recently after I got onto him. …I feel bad.”

“Oh no! No honey, it’s not like that. He just had something to do, that’s all.” Standing in the same exact spot, you observe Aunt Yoon, nervously rubbing and cracking her knuckles repeatedly. You raise an eyebrow at the behavior, pointing to her hands questioningly. “Oh, uhm. Kook told me about the little fight you guys are having, that’s all.”

“It's just, it’s not even a fight. I'm just confused and he can’t explain anything to me.” You sigh, frustrated. “Do you mind if I wait here for him? I can go to his room if you’d like your space out here.” You mumble, slowly shuffling down the hall towards his room. Since you’ve been friends for so long, it’s not awkward being in his room so you have no problem just waiting around for him. You jump back as Aunt Yoon quickly cuts you off, slamming both palms on either side of the hallway walls. The confusion just doesn’t stop growing. You raise your eyebrows, lamely clasping the sandwich in front of you as you step back towards the living room. “Okay, uhm. Or I guess I can just wait out here for him.” You feel incredibly stupid as you plop down on the sofa, getting comfortable as you wait for him.

Aunt Yoon is a nervous wreck, but she’s trying (and failing) to not show it to anyone. She almost died on the spot when Jungkook told her his secret, half voluntarily and the other half was a result of being caught with his mask in hand. She wanted to scream, cry, hold Jungkook in her arms, and scold him all at once. After a very lengthy talk at the dinner table, both of them sitting on opposite ends (awkward), she finally decided to let him continue his superhero side job. Despite her reluctance, she trusts Kook and made him promise he would try his best to be safe. Well, as safe as you can be when fighting criminals on the street. Aunt Yoon understands why you’re mad at Jungkook, but understands that it’s not her place to tell you. After making sure you sit down, she makes a beeline for his room, staring at the old spider suits that are currently laid out on the floor. Secretly, she pats herself on the back for her quick thinking, regardless of how messy the save was.

“Uhm, Aunt Yoon? Do you know when Kook is coming home?“ You ask from the couch, feeling as if you weren’t allowed to move away from it without being ushered back. Your sandwich is still wrapped on your lap, feeling too awkward to open it. Silence fills the room once again as Aunt Yoon fights for an appropriate answer that’s not too alarming.

“Uhm, usually around 11 these days. He’s been really busy recently.” She smiles, twirling her hair as a nervous habit as she soothes her anxiety. You quickly conclude that if you ask doing what, or why he gets home so late, you won’t get an answer. If anything, Aunt Yoon might have a nervous breakdown if you question her any further, so you decide to leave it. You nod at the answer, directing your attention to the sandwich that remains untouched. While Aunt Yoon is acting weird, she makes sure you’re comfortable in the living room before heading back to whatever she was doing before you showed up. Turning on the tv, getting you a drink, handing you a throw blanket for the couch. You settle in for the long wait, laying down and watching whatever plays on the tv.

SPIDER-MAN SHOWS UP ONCE AGAIN TO SAVE THE DAY!!

SPIDER MENACE IS ONCE AGAIN TERRORIZING CITIZENS OF SEOUL, SOUTH KOREA!!

SPIDER-MAN IS A NEWLY FOUND HERO!

ONCE AGAIN, UNKNOWN HERO REFUSES TO REVEAL IDENTITY.

You quickly click away from the news channels. Truthfully, you have no opinion on the new hero that seems to be taking the entire country by storm. You’ve never had any interaction with him so far, so you genuinely haven’t been able to gauge who he is without the influence of biased news outlets. All you know is that there’s even a club for him at your university, the students all competing to get the best Spidey photo. Surprisingly, you drift off to sleep without realizing.

You startle awake, heading a chorus of groans and crashing coming from down the hall. It doesn’t sound like Aunt Yoon, meaning Jungkook must’ve just gotten home. Weird, you didn’t hear the front door unlock and open. “Kook?” You call out, rubbing your eyes before making your way down the hall. Still half asleep, you knock on his childhood bedroom door. “Jungkook, is that you? Can we talk?” His door slowly opens, revealing a very disheveled and tired looking Jungkook. Seeing him for the first time in what feels like months is off putting, making you stumble over yourself for words that properly explain what you're trying to convey. “Uhm, hey. You uh, stopped showing up to classes and I got worried. And I went to your dorm and uhm, no one was there, heh. And dropped out of your clubs, and got home really late…” you're definitely rambling now. “I guess I wanted to check up on you to make sure you’re alright.”

Jungkook is at a loss for words. “No, yeah, I'm alright! I've just been really busy with stuff outside of school. Personal stuff. Uhm, how have you been!?” He’s trying to desperately change the subject, flashing his signature bunny smile as his last card. It almost works, almost, until you spot the cut he’s currently sporting across his brow.

“Kook…what is going on?” You mumble, reaching out to hold his head before he has a chance to back away from you. You catch it just in time, pushing his hair back that he was using to hide it. It’s a deep cut, blood soaking his hair and brow. It’s threatening to drip into his eye, making you quickly wipe it with your finger. Not showing up to class, coming home late, getting injured after coming home? You’re more confused than ever, stomach dropping to your feet as you can only think of the worst. “Are you street fighting?” You mumble, grabbing tissues as you wipe some of the blood away.

“No! No, of course not!” He pulls your wrists away, giving his brow one hard wipe before throwing away the tissues. Seeing you so worried about him makes his stomach lurch, threatening to spill every single secret that he’s kept from you so far. “Shouldn’t you be getting home? It’s almost midnight and everything.” He smiles, once again changing the subject.

“You're kicking me out now. Please Kook, I’m not mad at you anymore, I'm worried about you. And the more I try to find out what’s going on the more and more I'm worried!” You're fighting back tears now, trying increasingly hard to keep your resolve in front of him. “Even Aunt Yoon is acting weird! Acting like I'm some stranger that you guys have never met before. Blocked me off from going into your room like I was some stranger, did her nervous hair twirling and knuckle cracking, and didn't know what to say when I talked to her. Now you, disappearing from everything with barely any explanation! Never being at the university and coming home all beaten up! I didn’t even hear you come in through the front door which is weird, you always make so much noise.” You ramble, becoming more frustrated as Jungkook can only stare at you wide eyed. His heart is beating erratically in his ears, wanting nothing more than to wrap you in a hug and explain everything to you. He hasn’t seen you this upset in years, tears threatening to fall down your cheeks.

“Please, Y/n.” Jungkook mumbles, letting his head drop as he avoids making eye contact. “I wish I could tell you. Here, you can sleepover tonight and tomorrow we’ll both drive back up to the university-”

“Just tell me! Whatever it is there’s no way it can be that bad, we’ve known each other since we were toddlers. Kook….please. Don’t make me worry like this.” Tears are slowly streaming down your face, voice wavering with every word you speak. Your lips threaten to let out sobs in between each word, fighting them back to keep your resolve and tone. Regardless, your resolve isn’t enough to get Jungkook to tell you anything. He continues to avoid eye contact as he talks once again.

“Y/n, please. Let’s just go to sleep.”

Your stomach falls to your feet, heart feeling as if it were about to jump out of your throat. In a flurry, you can only say the first thing that comes to mind.

“I hate you Jungkook.”

The hurt is evident all across his face, shoulders slightly flinching from your cold statement. He's completely unprepared, staring back at you like a deer caught in a car's headlights. He's never heard you say those words with any true meaning, only jokingly a couple of times. Hearing them makes his heart beat increase, hands instinctively reaching out to pull you towards him. As he gently grabs your shoulders, you jerk out of his grasp and back up towards the door.

You can't take it anymore, spinning fast on your heels and almost running out of the apartment. A part of you wants to scream at Jungkook, the other cries into his arms as he comforts you. You decide that neither one is appropriate and going to your car to cry is likely your best option. Ignoring him as he follows you out, mumbling excuses to the best of his ability, you make it out of his apartment in record time. It feels like you’ve just lost Jungkook entirely, sobs wracking your entire body as you shuffle through the building stairwells. You could help him, you’re sure of it, if he would just let you. You’ve never not been there when he’s struggled in the past, and seeing him block you out feels like betrayal. You’re defeated entirely as the cool night air envelops you, continuing your pity party late into the night.

After maybe three hours, the rational part of your brain forces you out of the driver seat of your car and back up to Jungkook’s apartment. You’re about to knock when it’s ripped open, causing you to flinch away. “God, Kook!” You mumble, eyes wide as you stare at him. “You scared the shit out of me! Listen, I won’t ask about it anymore tonight. I’ll leave it alone.”

“C'mon, let’s go to sleep Y/n.” Jungkook calls softly, pulling you underneath his arm and into the apartment. He easily leads you to his room, handing you clothes to change into. You want to continue arguing with him, but you just can’t. You change in the apartment's small bathroom, tired body shuffling into his bed. “You need to cry?” Jungkook chuckles softly as he takes his place next to you, pulling your body close to his chest.

"...Yeah." Jungkook knows you extremely well, and now is not any different. He comforts you in one of the only ways he knows how, which is physical affection. It's always been a staple of Jungkook's personality, his love language being physical touch once he's comfortable being around you. Your face is shoved into the soft cotton of some stupid science shirt, tears soon to be stained into it. "Kook, why were you still awake?"

"Just thinking about things, couldn't fall asleep." That makes you cry, Jungkook letting out a small chuckle at you before wrapping you tighter in his arms. He makes sure you're comfortable, yanking the blankets over the both of you and making sure you have at least one pillow. You bury your face into his shirt, allowing yourself to get everything out (as much as possible without snot dripping everywhere.) Jungkook comfortingly rubs your back every now and then while playing with and stroking your hair. "It's alright, Y/n. I understand why you're upset."

"It’s okay Kook, we don't have to talk about it." You state, voice muffled by his chest. "I’m sorry for keeping you awake, and being a bitch to you in class." Over the course of the night, your positions swap as you take Jungkook in your arms. While he won't explicitly say it, you know he needs it just as bad as you do. Holding him, the both of you fall asleep like that.

You're not sure what time it is when you wake up, quickly realizing what tore you out of your sleep. In your arms, Jungkook is visibly strained, face scrunched together as he jostles slightly in your hold. You quickly realize that it's not going to go away as he continues to become more distressed. "Kook, Jungkook wake up." You begin to shake him lightly, hoping he'll just wake up without much trouble. It takes much more effort to actually pull him out of his sleep, his head jerking as you shake him awake by his shoulders.

He wakes up with a start, his eyes shooting open as he lurches into a seated position. He’s breathing extremely hard, almost panting as he scans around the room widely. "Hey, hey, Kook. It's okay, it was just a dream. you're okay, you're safe." His attention is quickly turned to you, eyes still wide as he takes in your presence.

"Are you okay? You're not hurt?" He mumbles, reaching out and grabbing ahold of your arm hard, not allowing you to jerk away. Carefully, as if his dream were real, he turns it over as if he were looking for an injury.

"Yes, I'm fine, Jungkook. It was just a dream, a nightmare." You mumble, opening your arms and beckoning for him to lay back down. Slowly, as if you were lying to him, he finally lays back down with you. Whatever he dreamed about has him shook up deep into his bones, his arms holding you as close as he possibly could.

Waking up is no easier, feeling just as shitty as you did last night but now even more tired. Your eyes are red and puffy, lips chapped from crying throughout the night. Despite driving back to the university together, Jungkook avoids you like the plague for the entire week. He sits as far away from you as he can without making it obvious. He makes sure to leave the lecture halls immediately after the bell rings so there’s no chance you two will be stuck awkwardly walking next to each other. You’re beyond frustrated and sad from them on, slowly becoming strangers with Jungkook. You two never thought this would happen.

Genuine misery wracks your entire body as you walk through the nightlife of Seoul, streets busy as people start their weekend early on Friday night. Your shoulders brush every now and then with strangers, which you’re quick to usher apologies to avoid any confrontation. A particularly harsh brush sends you down, falling flat on your ass as you groan in pain. Immediately, pain shoots up your hands and into your wrists, absorbing your fall. It feels as though your tailbone has been broken as you pathetically muster your strength to stand up straight. “You should really watch where you’re going!” You don’t make eye contact, simply rolling your eyes at the angry citizen.

“Yeah yeah, I know.” You mumble, immediately being caught by the wrist at the end of your statement. Panic begins to flow throughout your entire body, heart rate speeding up so much you can almost hear it. “Let go of me.” While you try to sound confident, your voice comes out frail as you stare at the man in front of you. Your legs feel as though they’ve gone numb, every sense in your body telling you to get out of there. “I said, let go!” You muster up a bit more courage as you try to pull your arm away to no avail. This proves to be counterproductive as the man easily catches your other arm in his grasp. Tears well in your eyes as you finally get a clear look at the man, nothing short of a stereotypical petty criminal. Your skin crawls as he eyes you up and down, stopping to think.

“Just for that comment, you owe me your wallet.” He grins, making your stomach flip in circles. Is your wallet really worth getting the shit beat out of you? No, no it’s not. But as your ears ring with the sound of your heart beat, not a single coherent thought is happening in your head right now. Involuntarily, you scream as he pulls you closer, making some sort of attempt to pat down your pockets for your wallet. You can’t help but continue to scream, trashing in his hold as he searches your body, copping cheat feels wherever he can. Tears stream down your face, mind going into overdrive as it uses the last bit of intelligence to kick your attacker in his dick.

Immediately, his hands are off of you and he hunches over. Taking the opportunity, you make a break for it, getting just around the street corner before he’s taking off after you. “Man…c’mon.” Is the only thing you hear before the footsteps stop, instead the silence is filled with the man’s complaints. I wasn't even doing anything, we were just messing around, get your webs off of me, you have no right to do this, I'm suing you for misconduct, I'll kill you as soon as I get free! “Didn't your mother ever teach you manners?” There’s a faint sound of webs being strung, causing you to slowly make your way over to the complaint train. “And just like that…another one for the cops.” The man is incredibly satisfied with his web building ability, taking one final measure as he shoots a glob over the attacker's mouth, finally silencing him.

“…Spider-Man?” For some reason, you’re incredibly surprised despite him being all over the news for months now. While you’ve heard everyone talking about him, you’ve never actually seen him in person, never caring to track him down. His suit is much darker than what it looks like in the pictures, making you wonder if it’s the lighting or if he's had a costume update. With the entire suit, you can’t tell any sort of distinguishable features besides the fact that he’s ripped in almost every aspect. The only other feature that you’re able to pick up on right away is his extremely young sounding voice. “Uhm, thank you. For uh, webbing him to the wall?” The disheveled looking man is definitely cocooned to the wall, completely defeated as he waits for the cops to show up.

“Oh, it’s no problem! It’s what I do, your-“ He’s ready to deliver his famous, personally selected, catchphrase. He’s even gone to the extent of placing his hands on his hips, getting ready to puff out his chest and stand tall as he speaks.

“Friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, yeah, yeah, we know.” An outside voice chimes in, making you burst into laughter. His chest immediately falls and his posture falls a bit, hands going to point at the said heckler that ruined his moment.

“Hey, that wasn’t very nice!” The spider in front of you calls out, which just makes you laugh more. He's standing up straight now, but has no real intention of going after the grumpy eavesdropper. Without even trying, he’s funny.

“If you really want, you can do your little saying. I'll listen to it.” You giggle, seeing him place his hands back on his hips as he recovers from his workout that stringing the man up turned out to be. He looks incredibly boyish as he stands in thought for a brief moment, almost snapping back into reality as he remembers the situation. Doing a quick double take, he glances back at the man before looking at you once again, before taking another small glance over his shoulder to ensure your attacker is still on the wall.

“Uhm, do you mind if I use your phone? Gotta call the police, and uhm, my suit doesn’t have any pockets?” To add credibility to his claim, he’s running his hands along the suit to show you. After his display, he’s already walking towards you before you answer, taking your phone with a quick thanks before calling the police. He talks for maybe 1 minute max, the conversation being a chorus of “Hello, yes, Spider-Man, yes, 97th street, yes, ok, thanks.” After hanging up and handing your phone back, he seemingly kicks in his inspirational it’s gonna be ok, speech. “How are you feeling? I know that might’ve been a little scary for you, especially the whole, uhm, searching…your body.'' It's incredibly awkward as he tries to find a way to take back what he just said, gesturing to the air.

“You’re not very good at this, I think you should stick to webbing criminals.” You laugh softly, tone joking as you tease him. He seems embarrassed, more than likely flushed entirely pink underneath his mask. “Thanks for saving the citizens of Seoul once again, Spidey.” You giggle as you begin the walk home, quickly making the decision to take the well lit sidewalks. It’ll likely take 10 minutes longer, but you tell yourself that the 10 minutes will be worth it to avoid another almost mugging encounter.

“Uhm, if you want, can I give you a lift home?” Spider-Man offers, jogging to catch up to you. The visual of Spider-Man running on foot to meet up with you is humorous for no reason. “Just so you get home safe! And you don’t have to worry about guys like him!” He covers as you eye him questioningly. After a little more teasing, you accept his offer. “Okay, so just stand next to me, ok, ok. And I'm going to hold you like this, is this ok for you?” You genuinely laugh as he hesitantly places his arm around your waist, nodding your head yes. “Alright, and you can hold around my neck, yeah, like that. Okay, so when we take off, you can either leave your legs like that, or wrap them, uh…around my waist. On the side! Like a toddler sits on someone’s hip, you know?” He’s genuinely trying to not make the situation in any way sexual or uncomfortable, but the constant explanations and stumbling is doing the opposite of his intended effect.

“Yes, Spider-Man. I know what you mean. This won’t affect your webs or swinging, right?” If he’s holding you, that means he can only swing with one arm which is slightly concerning. “Like with only one arm, because if there's a chance I can fall, I'd rather walk all the way back home?”

“Yeah! I'm a pro at swinging, you have no idea. Ready? I’ll show you.” Without even waiting for a response, he effortlessly shoots a web that sends the both of you flying up. After shifting down several inches as the both of you swung downwards, you quickly concluded that you were going to death grip Spider-Man's waist as he swung the both of you. It’s almost like a rollercoaster, that’s extremely high, and has no seat belts or safety procedures. Your adrenaline is pumping throughout your entire body, stomach rising and falling with each swing. To him, it seems like he’s on a leisurely walk in the park, nowhere near as fast as he normally swings when he’s in an emergency.

“Can these things go any faster?” You laugh, pointing to the web shooters on his wrists. Glancing over at you, you’re sure he made a face behind the mask.

“Faster?” You can almost hear him scoff as he questions you. You can’t help but laugh, nodding your head. “If you insist, climb onto my back.” While he’s swinging? He wants you to maneuver around him while he’s swinging 200 feet in the air? “Like a piggy back ride, don’t think about it too much. You can do it.” He slowly lets go of your waist, moving his arm forward so that you can easily slide onto his back. Every single survival instinct is screaming at you not to move, to which you ignore.

“So now what?” You mumble. He has both of his arms in front of him, body (mostly) unrestricted to swing to maximum momentum. You quickly conclude that this is a horrible idea as he bends and extends his body to increase his speed.

“We go faster.” He laughs at you, using both arms to sling himself as fast as possible. While he may seem like an absolute idiot when talking, the way he’s calculating every single move to maximize his distance, is astonishing to you. No move that he does is for nothing (besides the safety checks for you). It's an extremely energy and time efficient way of moving. In record time, you’re at the front of your dorm complex. “And….we’re here.” He smiles as he stands on the ground, easily holding your legs that remain locked around him. While you know he’s standing on solid ground, your legs remain in place as your brain fights to convince yourself it’s safe to get down.

“Ok, let me just get down.” Your legs feel like jelly as they touch the ground, threatening to give out under your weight. “Thanks for the lift, I owe you some ramen next time, yeah?” You smile, shakily walking into your apartment building.

“Hopefully there isn’t a next time!!” He calls out, and with that, he shoots off to go help another poor soul.

Maybe it was the adrenaline from your attacker, or from Spider-Man, or the pure survival instincts kicking in during the ride, but as you lay down in bed, a realization washes over you. You never even told Spider-Man where you were going to…

Ever since that day, you almost unconsciously find yourself wandering around alone. To be honest, you weren’t looking for trouble and had no intention of getting into any that may become a safety risk. However, a part of your subconscious wants nothing more than to run into the red and blue masked superhero that roams the streets. So maybe…just maybe, if trouble comes your way it won’t be the end of the world. Your feet shuffle as you walk, every now and then kicking a rock along the sidewalk.

“If I didn’t know any better, I'd think you’re looking for trouble…” A voice calls out from above you, instantly causing a giant smile to spread across your face. Glancing up, it’s the same masked boy that you’ve been wandering the streets to catch even a glimpse of. Despite having his mask on, it looks like the fabric is smiling down at you.

“If I didn’t know any better, I'd think I have a little spider stalker following me.” Your smile is almost uncontrollable as he comes down, walking down the street with you. “Plus, I still owe you that ramen right?” You look incredibly ridiculous as the both of you walk into the restaurant, standing awkwardly as the staff whisper back and forth to each other. Spider-Man has got his signature, I’m a superhero, pose going on that it almost makes you laugh at him.

“What, what’s so funny, why are you giggling?” He’s leaning over slightly, trying to whisper to you as you continue to fight off your urge to laugh. “Are you laughing at me??”

“No, no.” You can't even look over at him, because you know the moment you do you’ll burst into laughter. Subtly, you begin to get into the same exact pose as him to see if anyone notices. This includes, placing your hands on your hips, widening your stance to about shoulder width, and standing perfectly straight with your chest puffed out. Even now, you’re still fighting back laughter as the staff continue to take glances at the two of you. “Do I look familiar?” You whisper, watching as he slowly turns around to look at you fully. As he analyzes, you can’t help but begin to laugh.

“Hm…no. Not really?”

“I'm you!”

“What!? That’s not how I stand!”

“This is exactly how you stand!”

“I do not look like that.”

“We could literally be twins right now, just give me your mask.” You laugh, finally dropping the pose as your ramen comes out. “You know, I really can’t tell if you’re smiling under your mask. So if you are straight faced this entire time, this is awkward.” You laugh, walking out of the restaurant with a bag of takeout. You both decide where to eat, sitting down with the bag in between you.

And by “you both decide where to eat,” Spider-Man immediately proposes that you go to a rooftop. He easily takes you to one of the tallest buildings, your stomach churning as your feet touch the roof and you immediately sit down where you two landed. “This is fun, but we should go by the ledge. We can see the entire city from up here.” He’s more than excited, easily walking over to the side and sitting down, feet hanging. You’re distraught as he webs the bag, yanking it over to him with no effort at all. Pathetically, you crawl over to the edge and make some sort of attempt to sit in the same manner he is. “Uh, if you want, I can web you…not like restraints. But like a seatbelt.”

“Actually…I would like that a lot. Please do.” You nod your head up and down, lifting your arms to allow him to secure your lap to the building. If the both of you can swing from skyscraper to skyscraper with these webs, you at least know they’ll hold you in place. He easily humors you once again without trying, pulling the mask to just above the tip of his nose to allow him to eat the noodles he’s picked up. “You know, if I knew who you were, I'd be able to tell from just this part of your face. So hiding your eyes isn’t exactly foolproof.” You laugh, quickly looking at his lips and half exposed cheeks. Your stomach flips as you quickly change to subject. “You know the city is a lot more safe with you around.”

“Yeah? I’m really glad to hear that.” He smiles, and you wonder if he’s actually that dumb. Or maybe he thinks you’re dumb and won’t put 2 and 2 together. “Everyone used to hate me, you know?” He laughs, shaking his head as he continues to eat. You don’t say anything, knowing that he’s going to continue once he’s done. “Newspapers tore me up every single day, I think I headlined at least 6 out of 7 days a week.” He laughs, “I guess you could say I'm pretty famous.”

“Yeah, you definitely are famous. You’re so famous you’re becoming a tourist attraction.” You giggle, thinking about how you’re seen various people come to Seoul to see Spider-Man at work. You’re sure the state gets insane tourism money from it, along with the city already being a well known area. “Seoul’s one and only, web slinging hero, Spider-Man!” You laugh, announcing your made up head line in an overly enunciated and perfectly clear tone. He laughs at the lame joke, shoving the rest of the noodles in his mouth. “We should probably get going, Arachne. It’s getting late and I'm sure you’ll be busy as it gets later.”

He nods to your final statement, reaching over to your lap. “I'm gonna take these off, alright?” You nod, allowing him to easily rip through them. Almost cat-like, he easily stands up on the edge with perfect balance, reaching down and offering you stability as you climb to your feet. “Freaking out?” He laughs at you, watching as you screw your eyes shut and refuse to look down.

“Yes, yes. Let’s just swing, get going.” Spidey asks you if you want his side or back, to which you heavily weigh the benefits of both. Taking a small peek at the sheer height, you decide that the back is definitely a better option since you’re able to cling onto him tighter. “Are you just going…to jump down? And like free fall!?” You regret every decision you made that has led up to this moment.

“Yes, until I get closer to the ground.” He can already tell you’re about to back out entirely, most likely take the elevator all the way down. While he would still accompany you, he’d much rather not wait forever to descend the 50+ floors. “Listen, you can do this, ok? All you have to do is jump onto my back and hang on as tight as you want. You don’t even have to look, alright? Just close your eyes and we’ll be done in no more than a minute.”

He talks you into it, but not without feeling like you’re going to pass out. At least if you pass out, it’s with Spider-Man who is more than capable of pulling you back in order to catch you. “Ok, ok. This will be fine.” You persuade yourself, taking the smallest hop humanely possible and quickly situating yourself on his back. It feels like you’re falling faster than scientifically possible, hurtling towards the ground at an alarming speed.

You’re about 90% sure you’ve busted Spider-Man's ear drums at this point, shoving your face in the crook of his neck while screaming. Your arms and legs are locked tight around him, so much so you’re surprised you haven’t choked him out yet. (Which would be bad, because if you pass out he’ll save you. If he passes out, you’re both goners.) As he easily thrusts a wrist in the air and begins swinging close to the ground, your arms fly up to his head as you try to find a better hold.

“THIS IS THE WORST, I'M CALLING THE BUGLE LATER TODAY!!!” You scream, slamming your eyes shut as he narrowly avoids buildings. “I'M TELLING THEM YOU TRIED TO KILL ME!!”

“WHAT ARE YOU EVEN SAYING!!” He screams back, trying to find his way through the lit up streets. “I CAN'T SEE, I CAN'T SEE ANYTHING!!”

You’re completely unaware that you are, in fact, clasping your hands over his eyeballs.

You’ve never hated anything more, from the moment he allowed his body to fall off the side (back first, so you were closer to the ground) all the way to when your feet touched the floor at your dorm. “That was horrible, if you ever convince me to free fall again I’m going to throw up all down the back of your suit.” You vaguely threaten, slowly climbing off.

He laughs at you, standing in the same spot as he waits for you to safely make it inside. For some reason, leaving is different now. You’re torn as you stare at him, stomach flipping in uncertainty. “Hey…be safe, alright, people care about you.” You mumble, quickly going back for a hug. Most likely catching him off guard, it takes him a couple of moments to actually hug you back. It's a comfortable, extremely familiar hug. “Don’t do anything too stupid, now.” You laugh, pulling away and actually going into your apartment. Spider-Man says something along the lines of I’d never think of it before swinging away.

Walking past Jungkook’s hall, your feet instinctively pause in front of the doorway. You finally understand. You understand Kook being so secretive, you understand why Aunt Yoon was so nervous that day, cracking her knuckles at every opportunity and refusing to let you past the living room. As you settle in for the night, everything begins to make more sense. The confusion you’ve had for over a month is suddenly gone, your head eventually connecting every missing piece.

You’re unsure of what to do about the newfound information, but for now you relax feeling slightly relieved now that you’ve figured it out. Jungkook has been acting so strange lately because he’s been a completely different person, swinging around the city every night as the one and only Spider-Man.

You can’t help but giggle slightly thinking to yourself. Pulling your phone out from your backpack, your finger hovers over Jungkook's contact name. Without thinking, you edit the information and add a little spider next to it. You decided to send Jungkook a quick text. It doesn’t even register to you that you both truly haven’t spoken face to face in days now. You’re hesitant for a couple of seconds, the endearing Jungkook 💜🕷 contact name urging you to make a decision. Regardless, you still message him.

I almost killed spider man

What? No wayyyyy

Would you still be friends with me if I murdered the most well known superhero in town?

Absolutely not

…Well, do you think that one loud news guy would’ve paid me?

Jameson? Knowing that guy? He’d give you his first born child

Smiling softly to yourself, you finally allow yourself to drift off to sleep.

You’re woken up out of your sleep by loud pounding coming from your window, a series of coughs and grunts accompany the noise. In a panic, your body shoots out of bed, catching the smallest glimpse at the figure in your window. Just as you’re about to sprint out of the room, you catch a small flash of red and blue. Hesitantly, you walk over to get a better look. Sure enough, the web slinging hero is standing outside of your window. Confused, you begin to pull open the window. “What are you doing here?!” You whisper, glancing back to your door to make sure no ears are around. “It's almost 5 am!”

“I just…need your help.” He groans, climbing past you and into the room. As he stands on both feet, his body haphazardly falls to the ground, a loud crashing accompanying it. On the ground, he begins to cough and groan as he holds his body wherever he can.

“Oh my god! Are you okay?” Panic sets in even more as you drop to your knees, pulling his head into your lap as you fight to get a response from him. Extremely slowly, he nods his head.

“I just…got caught a few too many times. I just…need to rest, my body heals pretty fast.” He’s talking extremely slowly, mind seemingly not thinking as he attempts to explain what happened to him. You can barely follow along with the story, something about not seeing the blade before the fight ended. At the end of his explanation, he quickly adds But I totally won, don’t get me wrong. Webbed him up and came straight over. At the explanation, you fight tears back, looking anywhere else in your room but him.

“Hey, was this too far? Did I overstep our friendship?” He laughs softly, placing both of his palms on the ground before making an attempt to get up. You assume he was going to leave your room, refusing to let him do so. You easily hold him in place, the injured boy not having the energy to fight you.

“You really must think I’m stupid, Kook.” You laugh, tears beginning to fall which you quickly wipe away. “Like, really really stupid.”

“Kook? Who’s that?”

This only makes you laugh harder, his voice easily giving away his blown cover. He's surprised, to which he quickly tries to play it off and act cool. “Please…don't make this harder than it already is.” You begin to reach for the edge of his mask, wrists quickly being caught by his hands and immediately stopping you. As he grabs your hands, you only now realize the wounds he was covering, blood smearing onto you from his hands.

“You…you didn’t tell me he actually got you! I thought you said you were just tired and couldn’t swing anymore!” Tears immediately begin to fall down your face, body jumping up. “Stay here! I swear, if you disappear I'll come find you!” You’re almost full on sobbing now, sprinting to the bathroom to dig for your first aid kit. It’s slightly small and only has the basics, but you hope it’ll be enough to help him at least. “Change into this, please?” It’s a pair of shorts and a random t-shirt that he’s left behind from your guys countless sleepovers.

“I really shouldn’t, I just need to rest.”

You refuse to let him go that easy, insisting that he change. Trying his best to keep whatever secret he thinks he’s still hiding, he makes every excuse to dodge taking off his mask. Listen, I’m hideous underneath this mask! I have to conceal my identity, if you went and told people I'd be in a lot of trouble. Also, if you knew my identity, it could paint you as a target for criminals. Only 1 other person knows who I am, it’s critical for it to be top secret. You can't take off my mask, it’s a part of the suit. No! It doesn’t come off at the neck. No! Get away!

“Jungkook, stop.” He is trying to crawl away from you without getting any blood on the carpet, using his feet to push himself around on his back. “First, it was disappearing and not showing up to class anymore. Then coming home beat up every night. Then when you took me home after saving me, you didn’t even ask where we were going. You just slung your webs and took me to my dorm complex. And when I bought us ramen earlier, I saw your face. You think I would miss the scar on your cheek and freckle underneath your lip? And even tonight, you happen to come to my exact window and climb in, without even knowing me?”

“Uhm, it was just a lucky guess, the window bit.” He mumbles, having no other explanation for your other points. He knows he can’t win, finally defeated and his secret laid out on the table for you to judge.

“Please just change so I can clean your cuts, please.” He’s about to make another excuse, you can see his mouth opening, mumbling out a small My identity is top secret- before you’re cutting him off. Your heart is racing, sobs and tears streaming from you at a pretty steady rate. Your hands shake as you hold onto him, gripping the front of his suit in your fists. “I told you to be safe, Jungkook! I told you not to do anything stupid! You said you’d be safe tonight! You NEVER listen, and now you’re bleeding out on my floor, KOOK PLEASE.” Your hands shake as you hold onto his suit, eventually moving to pull him closer to you. Holding his injured body, you shake and sob as he slowly wraps his arms around you. Every now and then, you can feel him heave as he fights back the urge to cry into you.

Slowly, you release your death grip on him, almost afraid he’d disappear the second you let go. Making another attempt at his mask, he lets you this time.

“I'm really sorry for this.” He mumbles, a few small coughs following his statement. Your eyebrow raises, hands just barely grazing the fabric of the mask. Before you can even react, a web is wrapped around your wrist before being easily shot towards your bed. Without even having time to think, your body is yanked backwards by the momentum of the web. “I gotta go…”

“Jungkook, this isn’t funny. Take this off.” You state, yanking hard against it as you try to reach where his body lies on your floor. You can feel your bed slide a few inches forward as you try to get to him. “Kook, I'm serious this isn’t a joke. Take it off!” Horror crosses your face as he plants his hands down, using the last of his strength reservoir to push himself up. Slowly, he hobbled back towards the window before carefully climbing out onto the fire escape. From afar, you can see the red spots bleeding through this spandex.

“I'm really sorry, those will last about an hour.” He apologizes, limping over to the railing. “If anyone comes in to check on you, you can just hide them underneath your blankets. I'll see you around.”

“JUNGKOOK! DON'T!” You're full on screaming at this point, tears engraving their path down your face. You’re frustrated and scared, almost afraid he’ll go to jump off the side of the building and not be able to recover. “PLEASE! STAY! I'LL DO ANYTHING. DON'T GO OUT, YOU'RE TOO WEAK RIGHT NOW.” You're screaming from the top of your lungs, pulling so hard on the web it feels as if you’ll dislocate your shoulder. Your wrist is aching from the tension, which you ignore it all. “PLEASE STAY, PLEASE STAY. I'LL COME FIND YOU IF YOU GO! I WILL, I SWEAR I'LL COME AFTER YOU!”

Your bed is now displaced a considerable amount, sitting almost directly in the center of the room. Your wrist is red and strained, shoulder pulled taught and about to snap at any moment if you continue to fight it. You don’t have a couple of hours to wait for this web to dissolve, you have to get to him now. “KOOK! Please, just come here. Please, I'm begging you. You're too hurt right now, you have to stay with me. Please Jungkook, I'm scared! Please don’t go, don’t leave me here!”

At your pleas, his feet stop their movements. You can see his internal debate. “Y/n, you can’t tell a soul. I mean it, I really do!”

“Okay, okay, done. I won't say a single thing. Please just get down.” At your promise, he clumsily hops down from the railing, making his way over to you. “Please, just come here.” You open one arm that’s free, wrapping it around Jungkook's torso as soon as he’s in reach. You’re quick to yank him down to your level, wrapping your single free arm as much as possible around his body. A small chuckle leaves him before he’s ripping through the web that still retains you. “I was scared Kook, that scared me.” You mumble into his shoulder, pulling him as close as possible.

He lets you hold onto him, body almost laying across your lap as you hold his torso and head. “I was scared that if you jumped down from the building, you’d be too tired to shoot a web to hold yourself, or too tired to stick to the wall.”

“It scares me to hear you cry like that.” He mumbles, pulling back just slightly to place a hand on your cheek. Ignoring the wetness that you feel, both on your cheek and body, you smile into his hand.

“Please, let me clean the blood off you. And bandage them. You’ll bleed out.” You ask, “And let me take the mask off.”

He finally nods his permission. your fingertips easily find the edge where the two seams meet, wedging your thumbs underneath the mask and easily pulling it up and over his head. He looks worn out, eyes threatening to close as blood drips onto his face. He's sporting a few bruises mixed with a busted brow and lip, where he got hit particularly hard. His cheek looks bad, a pretty long cut prominent. There’s a few tear steaks, (whether they’re from pain or your small breakdown is unknown.)

“Here I am.” He says lazily, eyes closed as you hold his head in your hands.

“Jungkook, you have to stay awake. For now, just open your eyes, please.” You mumble, searching for the extra clothes. You have to peel him out of his suit basically, blood making it almost like a wet suit onto his skin. Jungkook is more worried about the holes in the suit more than his skin, quickly reassuring him that you could sew them up. He nods, laying on the floor in nothing but a small pair of shorts. “This is going to hurt like a bitch, Jungkook.” You sigh, taking the sterile gauze and beginning to apply pressure to his still bleeding cuts.

His body stiffens under your hands, small grunts filling the room from the pain. You have to repeat this process multiple times, stomach doing flips as you fight back the urge to puke. Seeing him in so much pain makes your eyes water, you almost have to hold him down as he writhes from it. And by almost, you basically have him pinned down underneath you. You’re currently using one hand to apply pressure to the gashes, the other is holding his bicep down, and one of your feet is placed on his opposite thigh to stop him from jumping away. ”It'll be okay, just try and stay still. I got you, Kook.” After they slowly stop bleeding, you begin running sterile gauze with water over the dried blood. Slowly, it eventually looks less and less like a murder scene. “Please talk to me, Jungkook. Maybe it’ll take your mind off it.”

“I’m sorry for scaring you like that.” A tear falls down the side of his face, your hand instinctively reaching out to wipe it away. ”I know you’re worried about me, Y/n.” Jungkook mumbles, hand finding your side and doing his best to wrap it around you. “I understand, I really do. But I can't stop doing it, they need me.”

“I wasn't going to ask you to stop.” You answer, voice low and wavering slightly as you slowly stop crying over his injuries. As they get cleaned up a bit, you’re slowly able to calm down. “I just want, no need. I need you to be careful, Kook. Because if I lose you….I just. I won’t know- I won't know how to live after that.” You cry, head falling forward, causing your foreheads to push softly against each other. He understands your concern, rubbing your back comfortingly as you collect yourself. As you cry, his other hand finds your cheek to wipe the tears that slowly fall.

He hates seeing you this upset, hates it even more that it’s because of him. As he comforts you, his eyes water and threaten to spill over as he fights it away. After a bit, you’re able to pick your head up and resume, beginning smearing ointment over the cuts. To fill the silence in the room, he begins talking again. “You know, when I was fighting towards the end I started realizing how much he got me. I started feeling all of the cuts and pain running throughout my body. And after I hung him against the wall, I instinctively came over here. I wasn’t even thinking about showing up as Spider-Man, wasn’t thinking about how obvious it would be that I knew where your window was. The only thought that was running through my mind was that I needed to see you.” He explains. You’ve been sniffling the entire time, ever since Jungkook jumped down from the rails after agreeing to stay. As he talks more and more, it feels like you’re only fighting harder not to cry.

You’re not sure if this is supposed to make you feel better or worse, but your heart lurches. “I don't know if I wanted to see you for help, or see you to make me feel better. I just knew I had to get here, just in case something happened.”

“Don’t say that, you’re gonna be okay, Kook.” You abruptly cut him off, voice loud compared to his small one. You apologize softly, going back to his wounds. He nods, trying to reassure you.

“I'm already feeling better, Y/n.” He smiles, pushing himself up on his elbows to watch as you begin to bandage him up. You finish quickly, feeling nervous as he watches you.

“You know it’s weird, the last words I could’ve ever said to you were I hate you.” You laugh sadly, helping him pull his shirt on. He looks adorable as he stares at you, sporting a big patch on his cheek that covers the cut. “You should probably get some rest, you know? You’re gonna be sore in the morning for sure. I’ll get you painkillers and make breakfast when you wake up.” You smile, ruffling his hair.

“You’re right, can I borrow a pillow?” He asks, laughing lightly as he lays down on the floor.

“No, get in bed. You need to actually sleep well.” You laugh, dragging him up by one of his arms. He's quick to protest, No, it’s okay. I don't need to sleep on the bed to be comfortable. Because then you’re going to sleep on the floor and that’s not fair, no, I won't. He’s fighting you like a toddler that refuses to walk, completely dead weight as you try to drag him. With a loud sigh, you let him go and walk over to the red and blue suit on the ground. “Get in the bed, or the suit gets it!” You threaten, holding a pair of scissors to the material.

You genuinely laugh as his eyes widen, arms raising up. “Ok ok, take it easy now! Are those real scissors?!”

“Yes they’re real scissors!” A giant smile is spread across your face as he jokes with you.

“Oh no, real scissors are my weakness!!” He cries out, jokingly getting on his hands and knees. His hands stay in front of his face as he fake surrenders to your threats. Before you even realize what’s happening he’s shooting a web at you. It wraps around your wrist and will one hard tug, you’re tumbling towards him, suit and scissor falling out of your hands. “My suit is saved!”

“You missed the scissors a bit, Kook.” You laugh as you lay in his arms that caught you. He also has a giant smile spread across his face, a much better look than when you first peeled off his mask. Your heart swells, ears burning as he continues to peer down at you.

“I wasn’t aiming for the scissors.” He mumbles, making your face flush a bright red. Slowly, you almost miss it, you can feel him leaning into you. “Please, can I kiss you?” He asks softly, eyes flicking from your lips back to your eyes. It feels like you’re in a dream that you’ll wake up from, slowly nodding yes to his question. In a second, his lips are against yours, eyes falling shut. A small hum falls from you as you instinctively press closer to him, hands finding his hair. His hands find your sides, pulling you closer to him and into a sitting position. Easily, your lips spot together as if they were a perfect fit, breaths becoming heavy as you take one another’s air. You can taste the metallic on his mouth, confused for a moment before remembering his busted bottom lip.

“Kook, you need to rest.” You breathe, voice airy as you catch it. You place a small peck onto his lips, holding his head in your hands. His eyes remain closed, head tilted up slightly at you. You massage his scalp with your fingertips, a slight hum filling the room as his hands hold you close. “Please, get some sleep.” You say, pressing one last kiss onto his forehead before you begin to climb out of his lap.

“Fine, fine. But only for you.” He finally gives in, slowly climbing into bed. You giggle, pulling the covers up to his chin and beginning to tuck them in around his body. “This feels like a bit overboard now.” Jungkook states, causing you to laugh at him.

“Shut up and close your eyes.” Finally tucking him in completely, you kiss him one last time before going about your tasks for the early morning. And by tasks, you mean the mess that Jungkook brought you. There’s small blood spots on your carpet, along with the soaking wet suit. As he gets rest, you work hard to repair what you can. The carpet is first, blood stains being vigorously scrubbed and cleaned until there’s no evidence they were ever there. Picking the suit off the ground, you’re almost afraid to ruin it.

You decide that hand washing is probably the best bet, sneaking out of your room to retrieve laundry soap and head to the bathrooms. You pray to every god that no one is there, and that no one walks in on you. You try your best to be as silent as possible, red and blue suit not easily mistaken for possible onlooking eyes. Hand washing the suit is a challenge, the fabric feeling like it was 100 pounds once it soaked up water. The water is a murky and deep red, making you grimace. After the workout that rinsing and hanging the suit turned out to be, your next chore is figuring out how to sew up the holes. YouTube becomes your best friend, sorry Kook. You throw the suit haphazardly into a towel, lugging the still damp suit back.

“Y/nnnnn…” You can hear Jungkook whining from your room just as you finish up your chores, immediately rushing to see if he’s alright. He remains in bed, still completely tucked in to his chin. “Come lay with me, it’s lonely and cold here. I wanna be held.”

At his last statement, you can’t help but laugh at him. “You need to get some rest.” You answer, shoving more blanket underneath him.

“I did, I just woke up from my nap. Come on.” He protests, untucking and opening the blankets up to you. Sighing, you take the invitation as you quickly come to your senses and aren’t gonna win this time. “What have you been up to?” He asks, raising an eyebrow at you.

“Cleaning up your mess.” You smile, leaning back to fully look at his face. You can only catch a glimpse before he’s complaining, pulling you into his chest closer to him. You can’t help but smile, easily slotting yourself in between his arms. Your legs tangle together as the both of you get comfortable, using his bicep as your pillow for the time being.

"Do you remember the last time we were like this?" Jungkook asks, a small chuckle following his question. Confused, you pull away slightly to give him a questioning look. "When I had a nightmare and freaked out on you? And kept asking you if you were ok?"

"Oh, yeah. Why are you thinking about that right now, Kook?"

"It was about you, you know?" He states, his voice wavering slightly as he recalls the nightmare. Your heart feels like it's about to break for the millionth time that morning. "I wasn't able to save you, I was too slow and you fell. It was so vivid, it felt so real. Y-you hit the ground and when I walked over to you, you weren't moving. It scared me, bad." You listen in silence, allowing him to finish whatever he had left. "And when you woke me up, that felt like a dream. Like the two somehow got switched and waking up next to you was the dream, and that's why I had to check your arm. It honestly scared me so bad, that I wanted to distance myself from you because I was just so afraid of it actually becoming reality."

"It's okay Kook, I promise it's not going to happen. The distancing thing though, that was kind of shitty of you." You joke, able to pull a small chuckle from him. "I'll always be here for you, Kook, whenever you need me to."

"I'll always be here too, y/n. "

"Wanna hear some good news?" You smile, pushing yourself back into his chest as you get comfortable again. “I can proudly say your suit is fixed, ready for use once again. But not now, not until you heal. That's where I'm drawing the line.” You quickly add, to which he only laughs at you. Laying with him, you only now realize how much you’ve actually missed him these past few months.

“You’re the best. What would I do without you.” He smiles, tilting his head down to place a kiss on top of your hair. He doesn’t say anything after that, allowing his chin to rest on top of your head as he drifts off to sleep once more. You spend the entire morning holding one another, somehow scared to lose each other yet soaking up the touch. It’s not until you feel moisture that you pull away from him, searching for it.

“I have to change your bandages.” You sigh, slipping from his arms as you collect more supplies. Jungkook remains half asleep as you change the bled-through gauze, small hums the only reaction he gives you. Finally finished, a soft smile overtakes your face as he sleeps peacefully. Your hand finds his hair as you sit next to him, softly stroking his soft hair.

“Hm?” Jungkook hums, peeling his eyes open slightly.

“Nothing Kook.” You smile. “You can go back to sleep.”

“...Where did my shirt go?” He asks, glancing down at his bandaged chest. “If you wanted to see me shirtless that bad, you could’ve just said so.” He teases, hand jokingly grabbing your thigh.

“Ugh, next time I'll let you bleed out.” You roll your eyes, slapping his hand away from you. Making breakfast (that Jungkook insisted on helping with) and getting him painkillers, the near-death scare is finally coming to an end.

Jungkook’s with you, and he’s safe. You’re both on good terms again, more than good, and happy. Eating breakfast, the two of you unconsciously seek each other's touch. With legs tangled with one another underneath the table, and hands brushing more often than accidental, the two of you are finally content.

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