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izadi234 · 8 months ago

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Forget me not

-Warning: Contain yandere themes, neglected! gn!reader, mention of low self-esteem, the writer's first language isn't English. Yan! Batfamily x gn! reader

Chapters

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4(You're here)

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 4

The next day, Duke woke up early (and not just because he had training with Bruce and Dick), but the excitement of seeing you again after several days kept him awake all night.

Thank goodness it was the weekend which meant Duke could stay out a little later than usual, although to be honest he would have preferred to stay with you in your new "home" but two things stopped him: The first was that you still hadn't told him where you currently lived for the simple reason that you were still settling into your apartment and the second was because it wasn't in the plans he and Alfred had made.

Just a little longer and you'll be in your (cage) home again.

After his training with Bruce and Dick, Duke thanked them and quickly left to have breakfast and then get ready. Clearly, this attitude on the part of the young man didn't go unnoticed by his mentor or his older brother.

"Do you know what's wrong with him?" Dick asked Bruce

"No." The security guard shook his head. "Maybe he's going out to see someone. He looks excited."

"Maybe," Dick nodded.

At the dining table were the other family members, Jason and Damian. They both looked at Duke as if he had grown two heads taller just because he was devouring the food as if he hadn't eaten in 100 years.

"You know that the food isn't going to go away, right?" Jason chuckled.

"You should eat properly, Thomas," little Damian scolded.

"I'm sorry, guys!" he apologized as he stood up. "I have something to do and I'm in a bit of a hurry!"

He didn't allow the other vigilantes to ask who he was going to see because he had already left.

As he climbed the stairs, he almost ran into Tim, Cass, and Steph, who looked at him confused.

"Why the rush, Duke? The mansion is burning and we have to evacuate?" Steph joked

"Sorry guys! I'm going to see someone and I'm already late" he said before entering his room

"Oohh˜ Is it a secret girlfriend?" Steph asked the other two

"I don't think so. Duke never talks about girls" Tim said

"What if it's a boy?" Cass proposed

"I don't think so either. He would seem more nervous but he's more excited" she analyzed

Quickly Duke took a shower and changed his clothes. In a backpack he packed his laptop, chargers and wallet. You never know when he might use it and he could also ask you for help with some tasks he had some doubts about.

Once ready Duke went down and headed for the door when Bruce stopped him.

"Where are you going Duke?" the eldest Wayne asked curiously

Duke turned to look at him and with a smile said:

"I'm going out for a while"

"And with who if you don't mind me asking?" Bruce smiled thinking it was some young love

"With (Name)" Duke said as if it was the most normal thing

"(Name)? Wouldn't it be easier if you spent time here at the mansion?" Bruce suggested a little confused by the fact that both preferred to spend time outside the mansion instead of there.

"No, I don't think so, it would be a little complicated for (Name) to get here" the boy answered

"Getting here?" he asked confused "Duke, what are you up to..." he was cut off by the young man

"I'm sorry Bruce but I have to go! I'm running late" he said and then left him with the word in his mouth

Once Duke left, Bruce stared at the door with a frown.

Why would it be difficult for you to get to Wayne Manor when you lived there?

Unless...

"Alfred!" called the butler

The game began

"Yes Master Bruce?" Alfred asked as he approached to see what he needed but he already knew very well

Alfred who was watching Bruce and Duke's interaction from the shadows of the mansion, had a sly smile on his face that hid when his son called for him.

"What? What do you mean they don't live here anymore?" Bruce asked the butler

"That's right Master Bruce. I thought you had realized that" Alfred said quietly

"No! I don't..." he sighed heavily and sat down in his chair while hiding his face in his hands

"I've been very busy" Wayne excused himself which made Alfred frown

"Busy? Busy for 15 years? So busy that he didn't give them even 5 minutes of his attention but still spent time with the other young masters?" Alfred pointed out

Bruce's heart stopped for a moment at his words. He was right (as always). How could he forget for 15 years his eldest heir, his first blood kid? Yes, the night with your mother had been fleeting but, you weren't to blame for his actions. But he should have been there for you when you lost your parents, in fact, since before your birth he should have been there for you and your mother since she was pregnant.

But now he didn't regret it. He knows he screwed up, but now he could fix it. He could buy you anything you want, go to your competitions, watch movies with you or do anything you like but...

What do you like to do?

What are your hobbies?

What movies do you like?

But now that he thinks about it...

What grade are you in? Are you in high school or already in college?

And if you're already in college, did you miss your graduation? What are you studying?

And what about your age? Your friends?

Who are you?

"Alfred" he turned to look at the butler who just looked at him neutrally "Where are they?"

"I'm afraid I can't answer your question, Master Bruce. They didn't leave a clue as to where they were going" Alfred replied

"What?" he stood up from his chair

"That's right" he nodded

After a few minutes of silence Bruce spoke again.

"And where is their room?"

He doesn't even remember the room he assigned you

"Follow me, sir."

"This is it, sir." Alfred stopped in front of a white door with some (f/c) (favorite color) decorations painted on it.

Bruce approached and caressed the details of the door as if just touching them would give him the power to know you better despite the years.

The eldest Wayne opened the door to your room only to find an empty room, a bed with the sheets and blankets folded on top of it and the walls in your favorite color.

"I don't remember when they painted their room," Bruce said as he looked around.

"They changed the color a couple of times. The last time they painted their room was when Master Duke arrived. He offered them his help after they helped him settle in better at the Manor," Alfred explained as he also looked at the room, not with curiosity like Bruce did but with longing and melancholy.

Bruce looked around the empty room and despite being the best detective in the world he couldn't find any clues as to who you really were or where you might have gone.

"Tsk... There's nothing here..." he muttered to himself

"Maybe... You should ask the other young masters and mistresses" Alfred suggested

"Maybe they saw you on your last day"

"Yeah..." Bruce snapped out of his thoughts "Maybe they know something"

After that, he left your empty room leaving the old butler alone. Alfred looked around the room one last time before leaving and closing the door.

Don't worry (Name), soon you'll have a better room than the last one.

While chaos was beginning to spread at the Wayne residence, you were waiting for Duke in the park in downtown Gotham just as you had agreed on the phone.

You were checking your phone while sitting on a bench. You were tired of waiting for your brother, but you would wait for him as long as necessary. You also understood that Wayne Manor was not that close to the center since it was somewhat (very) far from the rest of the city and if you were honest, from afar the mansion seemed somewhat haunted and when you were little you couldn't help but think it was Dracula's mansion. And those same thoughts made you feel terrified of living in that place, especially when it rained. You always went to Alfred for protection and the kind butler always assured you that there was nothing to fear and that Dracula was not real. Clearly, the mind of your 4-year-old self didn't think the same, and your idea didn't change when you discovered that your family were all security guards who only worked at night and that their symbols were bats (although some also had birds on their suits).

You smiled at that memory from your childhood, maybe not so pleasant at the time but now, at 19 years old, it made you laugh.

"Hey (Name)!" a voice made you come out of your daydream

When you turned to see who it was, you saw Duke running towards you with a big smile on his lips. You quickly got up from the bench you were sitting on and before you could take two steps, Duke had already reached where you were and hugged you.

You laughed at his somewhat childish attitude but you hugged him gladly anyway.

"It seems like you missed me" you joked still hugging him

"Of course I did" he turned to look at you "You are sorely missed at the mansion"

That's not true...

You wanted to contradict what he had said but to be honest you didn't want to fight with Duke and much less talk about the mansion and its inhabitants.

"Well well" you giggled "Where do you want to go? There are a couple of cafes around here if you want to go get something to drink and if you want we can go to the arcade to play some video games afterwards"

Even though Duke felt a little disappointed that you broke the hug between the two of you his eyes lit up when you mentioned the arcade.

"Sure! Let's go!" he said excitedly

"Okay, let's go" you smiled at him and then started walking towards a cafe you frequented

When you got to the cafe you both stood in line to order. When it was finally your turn you smiled at the barista and greeted him.

"Hey Mark" you greeted the boy

"Oh hey (Name)!" the boy greeted you back with a smile in kind "How are you? How's the race going?"

"Fine fine, a little too tiring" you chuckled "But I'm enjoying it"

"I'm glad to hear that" the boy smiled at you "Are you going to want the usual?"

"Yes please and you Duke?" you turned to see your brother who had just been staring at the boy and without you realizing it he was giving him a look that could kill anyone

Who was that boy?

A partner, friend, a crush? Or even worse...

A secret boyfriend?

Duke knew better than anyone that you were extremely good at keeping secrets so he wouldn't doubt that you had a partner and didn't tell anyone.

Damn... This made his plan more urgent...

Your voice brought Duke back to reality and his smile returned to his face.

"Oh yeah, I'd like a hot chocolate please."

"Okay," the young man nodded.

You paid for both drinks and waited a few minutes for your drinks to be prepared. Once you had your drinks, you sat down at a small table near the cafe window.

"So... how do you know that guy?" Duke asked you

"Well, I usually frequent this cafe, and he's usually here when I come so he already knows me a little" you giggled

"I see..." Duke said and then smiled "So tell me, how did college go for you?"

You were studying journalism, inspired by your father or rather stepfather, (F/N). And even though many people you knew tried to change your mind about it, you always remained sure of your decision. You were in your third semester, since the first 2 semesters you took online and to be honest, it was a little harder but much more fun and interesting.

"I'm doing great!" You said with a big smile "I've met so many interesting and nice people and the face-to-face classes are a little more difficult but I feel like I'm learning. One of my teachers is assigning us tutors who are high-level journalists and although I'm still waiting to see who is assigned to me as a tutor I just hope it's good"

"That sounds great!" Duke smiled

Even though he looked happy on the outside, he was actually frustrated on the inside.

Were you really that happy away from the mansion?

Away from them?

Away from him?

No, it can't be... That's impossible

He had missed you from the first second he found out you were gone!

Had you stopped loving him?

Is that why you don't tell him where you're living?

He was wondering all that but when he looked into your eyes he calmed down.

No, that wasn't possible

You are someone so sweet and kind, you would never forget him

If you did, why would you be there with him?

But even so, he wasn't going to take the risk, even though he enjoyed seeing you happy...

YOU NEED TO GO BACK HOME

Hellooo! Here's the next chapter! I hope you all like It and enjoy it! Sorry for taking a bit to publish this but I've been kind of busy, still I hope I publish the next chapter sooner. Also, I've been tagging everyone in the TAG LIST so tell me if you want me to add you!

Anyway, if you liked it I would appreciate if you leave a heart and I'm Also interested to heart if you have any ideas or opinions about the story.

See you in the next one!

-Izadi <3

TAG LIST

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dreamwritesimagines · 1 month ago

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Declassified [4] - Outranked

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful support my loves🩷 I hope you like this chapter as well! 🥰 Please let me know what you think! 🩷

Pairing: Congressman!Bucky x Female!Reader

Summary: Everyone has their bad days at work.

Warnings: Explicit language, yelling.

Word Count: 3937

Series Masterlist

Fine.

Things with Bucky had been a bit strange, at least on your part.

Ever since that night at the office and that rush of excitement you had when your hand was in his, you had been trying your hardest to ignore the feeling but it simply didn’t let you.

Throwing yourself into work didn’t do the trick either, but at least the poll numbers were amazing.

You watched while he walked down the stage through the applause and shook hands with the people in the crowd. Even you had to admit that he didn’t need to do much, voters loved him and his genuine approach. Yet, to be safe, he studied whatever you gave him thoroughly to answer each and every question with ease, clearly having read every note you put in your reports as you asked him to.

He made his way to you and Kelsey, and you smiled at him while Kelsey checked his calendar on her phone.

“The next meeting is with Mr. Davis,” she said before he could even ask. “You have half an hour.”

“Great,” he muttered, shooting you a questioning look, and you nodded, then followed him out of the building to the sidewalk. He went into the blind alley right beside the building so that you could be away from anyone who could interrupt you, then turned to look at you.

“The usual drill?” you asked and he nodded.

“Mm hm.”

“I start?”

“Please,” he said, loosening his tie a little. “Ladies first.”

You took a deep breath and unlocked your phone.

“Overall it was pretty good,” you said, checking the notes on your phone as he leaned back on the wall. “Just one thing, you could’ve given more details when they asked about our veteran plan.”

He made a face as if he was already regretting it.

“I thought the same,” he admitted. “And I was going to, then I remembered you told me earlier to lean into education for this one.”

“Yes because that’s our opponent’s weak spot, I saw his project about education, it’s a fucking joke.” You scoffed. “By the way, you nailed the education question.”

He let out a relieved breath. “Good.”

“But like I said, we can just give the overall rundown the next time someone asks about it,” you said. “I actually already prepared a draft—”

“When?”

“While you were answering the question,” you said. “It’s short and to the point, and people should hear more about it, so if we overran by like ten seconds, it won’t hurt.”

“Yeah.”

“Because our ideas are fucking amazing,” you said, looking up at him and Bucky nodded fervently.

“Most of them were your ideas.”

“We came up with them together,” you told him. “And you’re the one who’s gonna carry those to the Congress, so let the voters hear it.”

“Okay,” he said. “Noted.”

“And next, Mr. Davis,” you said. “He’s a hard-ass, however he does have a soft spot for veterans and he’s a history nerd, so please, please throw in some sort of anecdote from your time in the trenches.”

“Birdie...”

“I know you hate talking about it,” you added in a hurry. “I know but we can, in fact, use him. Could be like um, like a fun memory.”

“Fun memory,” he deadpanned. “From the trenches.”

“You know what I mean, Bucky.”

“I’ll try,” he muttered. “My turn?”

You cleared your throat and fixed your hair to keep your hands busy before rolling your shoulders back.

“Yes,” you said. “I am now ready for your feedback. Go.”

“How much caffeine have you had so far?”

“Two Red Bulls, one Monster, three cups of coffee.”

“What did you eat?”

“Some leftover pizza as breakfast and a protein bar. Oh, and coffee beans.”

Bucky pulled his brows together. “See, that also counts as caffeine—where on earth did you get coffee beans?”

“I brought them in a ziploc. Want some?”

“No thank you.” He hummed. “And how much did you sleep last night?”

“Um…” You checked the app on your phone. “I think it’s like two and a half��oh, there. Two hours forty-five minutes.”

“That’s ten more minutes than the other night,” Bucky pointed out and you nodded your head, pride lighting up your face.

“Yes. I’m improving.”

“So proud.”

“Why thank you,” you chirped and checked the time on your phone, then stepped closer to him to reach up to fix his tie. “I literally told you Davis is a hard-ass, you have to look put together.”

A small smile pulled at his lips as he looked down at you, and you felt your heartbeat speeding up, but you forced yourself to focus on his tie before you stepped back, nibbling on your lip.

“There. Presentable.”

“Did you change your perfume?”

You tilted your head, then slapped a hand over your forehead with a grimace.

“I forgot you’re basically a hound!” you whined. “Sorry about that. Um—Max got this perfume for me and it’s really not my type of perfume but I wanted him to feel good about it, he’s not very skilled at choosing gifts.”

He raised his brows.

“Your boyfriend doesn’t know the perfume you use?”

“…No,” you said after a beat. “No he does. It’s on the vanity, he’s seen it a thousand times.”

“So he got you a different perfume on purpose?”

You blinked a couple of times, the simple question making your stomach churn in anxiety but you shook your head, trying to shake off the thoughts.

“Let’s go,” you said, and started walking with him following you. “Is it bad? The perfume?”

“It’s not bad, it's just not you.”

“Is it the serum?” you asked. “It makes you notice these types of things more?”

“Yeah.”

“How come you didn’t say anything about the other one?”

“I like how you sme—your—your perfume,” Bucky stammered and cleared his throat. “It’s uh—it’s a nice…perfume. In general.”

“Are you sure?” You stepped out of the alley and turned to look at him better while his campaign manager Paul approached you. “About this one not being bad? Should I go home and take a very quick shower and be back?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

Paul cleared his throat, his eyes darting between you two. “Am I interrupting something?”

“No,” Bucky said. “What is it?”

“You need to be on your way to Davis,” he said and turned to you with a frown. “And you should be at the office.”

“Okay.” You grinned at Bucky. “Hey, less exposure to perfume.”

“I feel like this is common knowledge, but I’d take your perfume over Davis’,” Bucky grumbled and you let out a laugh, then made your way to the car.

It was a busy day today, for Bucky and you. He was supposed to meet all these people and you had thousands of emails to send, and to make things worse, Paul had given you a bunch of things to do the moment you stepped foot in the office.

“He looks more pissed off than usual,” Caleb commented and you heaved a sigh.

“Yup.”

“Why?”

“No idea,” you said. “But hey, do you know how Bucky’s meeting with Davis went?”

“Kels texted me, it went fine.”

“Just fine?” you asked and he hummed.

“I’ll ask for the details.”

“Thank you,” you said and printed out the latest report, then walked to Bucky’s office to put it on his desk so that they would be ready when he got back. You cracked your back and made a face, then took a step to walk back to your desk but Paul stopped you.

“What were you doing in there?”

You pulled your brows together. “In Bucky’s office?” you asked. “I left the latest report in there. I figured he’d want to see it.”

Paul scoffed a laugh.

“Right,” he muttered. “And what about the report that I asked for, half an hour ago?”

“You asked for a full report Paul,” you reminded him. “I had to send some emails, so I—”

“I didn’t ask for excuses,” he snapped, making you pull back a little while the rest of the bullpen fell into silence. Your cheeks started burning in shame but you swallowed thickly, commanding yourself to be calm.

“I had to send the email to that journalist you were talking about today,” you said. “I figured that it was the priority—”

“I’m sorry, you figured?” Paul asked. “I asked you to do something and what, you decided it wasn’t the priority?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Sounds like you did,” Paul said. “And sounds like we have a miscommunication problem here. You don’t decide on shit. I decide what’s important or not, you hear me?”

Okay.

You knew what to do in a situation like this.

Your whole childhood could be summarized with multiple people yelling at you, so it didn’t even take you long to snap into what was familiar. You imagined the walls going up around you just like you would when you were little, schooling your face into a completely neutral expression, keeping your eyes on Paul and not the whole office watching you.

“I don’t really give a fuck that everyone tells you you’re oh-so-smart,” Paul ranted. “I don’t give a fuck if Bucky—” he stopped himself and let out a bitter laugh. “Trust me when I say this, you’re not half as smart as you think you are.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see that Bucky had just entered the bullpen but since Paul’s back was turned to the entrance and he was so lost in his anger, he didn’t even notice people turning their gaze from him to Bucky.

“And when the stakes are this high, when we’re only a couple of months away from the elections...” Paul’s voice rose again and Bucky’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not going to let you screw this up for anyone in this team!”

Bucky took a step but you moved your hand from your side to raise it just a little before you curled your fingers into a fist. It was so subtle that neither Paul nor anyone in the room noticed it, but Bucky stopped dead in his tracks like a soldier given a strict order by his commander, his gaze burning you.

“So when I want something to be done,” Paul said. “You do it. You do not think about the priority order, you just fucking do it. Like you’re supposed to. We’re not paying you to think, we’re paying you to do as you’re told. Do you understand?”

You unclenched your fist and nodded, then turned your gaze to Bucky over Paul’s shoulder. Paul blinked a couple of times, his face going white before he followed your line of sight, and turned around.

Bucky didn’t even need to say anything to intimidate people, you were beginning to see it now. His cold glare was more than enough to pin one to their spot, hell, you weren’t even the person who was on the receiving end of it, yet you didn’t think you could move. The whole bullpen held their breath while Paul exhaled shakily, opening his mouth only to have no voice come out. Bucky stole a glance at you as if asking for your next order, but you shook your head slightly, making him clench his jaw. He turned to Paul, nodded in the direction of the door and stepped outside, Paul tripping on his own feet in his rush to follow him outside.

“Holy shit,” Caleb muttered and you bit inside your cheek, then returned to your desk, Kelsey rushing to you while Caleb scooted his chair to get closer.

“What an asshole,” Kelsey whispered. “I still have goosebumps, I’ve never seen Bucky that furious.”

“At least now we know what Howard Stark saw before he—”

“Caleb!”

“Sorry, too soon?”

Your hands were still shaky, and people were still staring at you but you grabbed your phone to send a quick text to Bucky:

Don’t. I’m serious. Don’t fire him, don’t threaten him, don’t do anything.

“Birdie, are you okay?” Kelsey reached out to squeeze your hand and your head shot up, then you tried to smile.

“I’m fine.”

“You sure?” Caleb asked. “That was kind of harsh, even for Paul.”

You threw your shoulders back, trying to pull yourself together.

“It’s fine,” you said. “It’s…it’s okay. I’ll be fine.”

Paul couldn’t meet your eye for the rest of the day.

In fact, you were pretty sure that he had jumped out of your way when you had to go to his office to get a file.

Even though you could tell Bucky wanted to talk to you, you weren’t exactly sure how long you would be able to keep it together and you certainly didn’t want to break down in the office, so when it was time for you to leave the office, you went home while Bucky was still out on a meeting.

You had already cried in the shower when Max texted you to say he would be working until midnight, so you ordered a bunch of snacks, put some music on, turned the TV on, found the news channel and put it on mute, then turned up the heat and got to work.

You were knee deep in the clean energy bill draft for Bucky to use in his next meeting when the roar of a motorcycle outside made you grimace and look up from your notes, your phone buzzing in your hand a couple seconds later. Your eyes widened when you saw the text, sitting up straighter like someone pinched you.

From: Winter Is Coming

Hey, I’m outside your place. Can you step out for a moment?

Bucky?

Bucky was—

Holy shit, Bucky was outside.

You jumped on your feet and grabbed the empty snack packages, rushed to the kitchen and threw them into the garbage, your heart beating in your throat as you typed in your reply;

Be out in a sec!

You didn’t even question why you were so excited to see him, you just rushed to the bathroom to to brush your teeth and fix your hair as fast as you could, then made your way to the bedroom to grab your perfume from the vanity, your hand hitting the perfume bottle Max had got you out of the way in your hurry. You sprayed a couple of your own perfume on your skin, then ran to the living room to spritz it into the room as well. You threw the bottle on the bed and took a deep breath, then grabbed Max’s zip-up hoodie to put it on, grabbed the keys and walked out of the apartment.

Oh.

Oh alright, this was going to do wonders for your imagination.

Great.

Bucky was leaning against a motorcycle when you stepped out of the building, and he looked so irresistible that the fluttering in your stomach went crazy as you smiled at him. He eyed you up and down, and you shifted your weight from one foot to other, now realizing that you were in a crop top and tiny shorts under the unzipped hoodie; something very different than what he was used to seeing you in.

“I do have a doorbell, you know?” you joked, still holding the door open behind you and his eyes snapped to yours.

“I uh—” He frowned like he was trying to focus. “I didn’t want to disturb.”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” You waved a hand in the air. “Come on in.”

He paused for a beat. “Are you sure?”

“Oh yeah, Max is working late as usual, it’s just me,” you said and made your way to your apartment with him following you. You opened the door to your apartment and stepped inside, your heart still pounding in your chest.

It was fine.

You had been to his place like a thousand times, and even bribed his cat Alpine into loving you with a can of tuna, so it just made sense that he would be here as well.

Completely professional.

Bucky’s eyes darted around the place before he closed the door behind him, then let out a breath.

“Whoa, it’s like a sauna here.”

“Yeah I need every room I’m in to be boiling,” you said with a laugh, taking off the hoodie. “I’m cold all the time, like, there was this one time I had to turn the heat on in June, Max was losing his mind.”

Bucky took off his leather jacket and you took it from him to hang it on the hanger, then made your way through the hallway with him following you.

“I got wine, beer…”

“Beer would be nice, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course,” you said as you both entered the kitchen and you took out two beer bottles from the fridge, then handed one to him.

“Thanks.” Bucky sat down on the stool and uncapped his bottle and you uncapped yours, then clinked the bottle with his. “Nice place.”

“Thank you,” you said and took a sip, perching on the other stool across from his. “So, what’s up? What brings you to my sauna?”

“I wanted to see if you’re okay,” he said. “After today.”

You scoffed. “Oh, I’m fine.”

“Are you?”

“I don’t care what Paul does. How did the meeting with Brooks go?”

“She’s nice—”

“And she’s hot as hell,” you added. “Like, seriously...”

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Did you get the chance to mention that we’re interested in that fundraiser?”

“Yeah, she says we can make that happen. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“That fundraiser would make really good optics and to be honest, she’s kind of a badass—”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Bucky cut you off and you pursed your lips, then nodded.

“I don’t understand why people make such a big deal about it,” you said. “I’m used to getting yelled at, I’m okay.”

Fury flashed in Bucky’s eyes.

“This has happened before?”

“No no, not with Paul,” you said. “Which by the way, what did you tell him? He doesn’t even look me in the eye anymore.”

“Good,” Bucky said. “Means he listened.”

Butterflies returned to your stomach but you forced yourself to give him a reprimanding glare. “Bucky.”

“Hm?”

“What did you say to him?”

“Nothing much. I just explained what would happen if he pulled that shit again, very calmly.”

You had to bite back your smile. “Very calmly.”

His expression was almost too innocent. “Mm hm.”

You shook your head and took another sip of your beer while Bucky tilted his head.

“How?”

“What?”

“How are you used to it?”

“Oh.” You let out a bitter laugh. “I got yelled at a lot when I was a kid. It stops being effective after a while, to be honest with you.”

Bucky’s frown deepened and you shrugged your shoulders.

“I had this um…” You moved your hand vaguely. “I had this thing while I was growing up, I was incredibly skittish, so my dad kept yelling at me to think faster and talk faster and eat faster and—whatever you can think of, really. Kind of like a drill sergeant.”

Bucky stared at you, a soft light shining in his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, I yell at him back nowadays,” you said with a small laugh. “One of the reasons why we don’t get along well. He raised me to be very outspoken, and now that my values are completely different than his, he doesn’t like it. You should’ve seen the last time they visited, we got into this huge political argument, and my mom just left to go shopping, and Max blocked it out and was like, making work phone calls in the bedroom while my father probably violated the noise ordinance laws of this building. My voice was hoarse the next day, it was crazy.”

Bucky blinked a couple of times.

“Sorry, you mean—” He paused as if he was trying to wrap his mind around the idea. “You’re telling me your father yelled at you and your boyfriend just allowed that?”

You stared at him, that familiar discomfort sinking in your stomach again before you shook your head.

“Oh it’s not like that,” you said. “He respects my father a lot, and he knew I could handle it.”

At least that was what Max had told you word by word, when you asked him where the hell he was during that argument seeing that it ended up with you bursting into tears in the bathroom.

“Did you tell him he’s not supposed to respect your father more than he respects you?” Bucky asked with a dry smile and you licked your lips, your heartbeat getting faster.

“It sounds bad when you say it like that,” you said. “But it wasn’t like that. Max is a great guy, we barely ever fight.”

Well, that was because you barely saw each other within the week.

“And um—” you stammered. “And we’re like, so in love.”

No I’m not.

The thought that flashed through your mind was so sudden and so unfamiliar that it made you stop talking and you swallowed thickly, frowning at yourself.

What the hell?

When had that quiet doubt turned into an actual thought?

“Yeah,” Bucky’s voice cut through your haze and you looked up at him to see that soft light playing in his eyes despite how tight his jaw was. “Yeah, you mentioned that.”

“…Right.”

He held your gaze in his, making your heart skip a beat before he downed the beer and put the bottle on the kitchen island.

“I should go,” he rasped out and your stomach dropped in disappointment.

“Oh, you could stay,” you said in a rush, hope clear in your voice even if you tried to hide it. “Like I said, it’s just me here probably until like midnight or something.”

“I really shouldn’t.” He gave you an apologetic smile and stood up from the stool. “Thanks for the beer though.”

“Of course,” you said and followed him to the hallway. He grabbed his leather jacket from the hanger and you fixed your hair, clearing your throat.

“By the way, you should ride your motorcycle more,” you said with a tentative smile. “It’d skyrocket the votes.”

He chuckled. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

You took a step towards him when he opened the door. “Bucky?”

He turned around to look at you better. “Hm?”

“Why—” You paused for a moment. “Paul is your campaign manager. He outranks me and—was it honestly just because of me? Today, when you pulled him aside and gave him a talk?”

“Yeah,” he said. “It was because of you.”

“Why?”

He shrugged his shoulders.

“I don’t like it when people think they can yell at you,” he pointed out. “So I’m not going to allow that. Simple as that.”

That warmth filled your chest again, a smile you couldn’t stop lighting up your face and you bounced on the balls of your feet, then nodded.

“Thank you,” you said, your voice a mere whisper and his eyes met yours, your heart beating in your throat again.

“Anytime,” he said softly. “Goodnight Birdie.”

With that, he closed the door behind him and soon enough you heard the engine of the motorcycle come to life, and drive away. Your cheeks were still burning and you pressed your palms to soothe the fire, letting out a shaky breath.

“Yeah,” you whispered into the empty room. “Goodnight Bucky.”

Chapter 5

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #congressman barnes #congressman bucky #thunderbolts #thunderbolts*#congressman bucky barnes #congressman!bucky #congressman!bucky barnes #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x y/n #bucky fanfic

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ladysharmaa · 5 months ago

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Wild hearts

Jasper Hale x original character

Summary: When a new girl arrives at Forks, she seems to catch Jasper Hale's attention. However, he and his family are hiding a secret. What they don't know is that Evelyn has a secret of her own

Evelyn enjoyed the cold weather. Unlike many people living in Forks, the clouds covering the sun brought a sense of calm, as did the constant sound of rain falling aggressively on the ground. This was what she needed, something constant. After her busy, dangerous and somewhat traumatic life, she finally decided to escape and settle down somewhere. Forks seemed like the ideal place for her.

She managed to rent a small house with the money she had saved over time. The conditions were not the best, the floor creaked, the house was cold and some of the walls were cracked, but that house was hers. The first thing she had all to herself.

She was going to attend Forks High School, which was a 10-minute walk from her house, which was ideal since Evelyn didn't have a car. Although it was essential, she was a little afraid of driving, fearing she would get distracted on the road, so she decided to spend the money she had left on other things, such as warm clothes that she would certainly need in this Forks weather.

So, on the first day of school, Evelyn got up from her warm bed against her will, and hurried to get ready. She left the house and started her walk, taking the opportunity to observe the town and its inhabitants, who were also starting their mornings and heading to work.

Evelyn's body was shivering in the cold temperature and she was sure her lips were turning blue, even with all the layers of clothes she had. It was a big temperature change, since Evelyn had lived in warm places her whole life.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a police car start to slow down next to her. The owner rolled down the window and Eve could tell it was Chief Swan, who had already introduced himself to her when he saw her moving into her new house.

"Morning, Chief." She smiled despite the cold. "Beautiful day, right?"

"Evelyn, you're freezing! Get in, I'll give you a ride to school." the man offered, looking worriedly at the girl who had red cheeks and nose from the cold, and her lips were turning slightly blue.

Evelyn thought about declining the offer, not wanting to give Charlie any trouble, but her body was yearning to warm up. She got into the car, immediately sighing in relief when she realized the heater was on. "Thank you."

"You need to buy some warm clothes. Forks can be even colder than this." Charlie warned, making the rest of the way to school.

Eve frowned slightly, she didn't have much more money for that. And, anyway, the cold could be comforting, reminding her that she had managed to change the already set destiny of her life. "I have to check that out. Do you know of any place where they might be hiring people?"

Charlie glanced at the girl. So young and already worried about money. "I think the dinner I go to is looking for a waitress. I can talk to the owner for you."

"Thank you, Chief Swan. That would be very helpful!" she smiled. Charlie was surprised, even with Evelyn's seemingly difficult life, she always had a smile on her lips.

Arriving at Forks High School, Evelyn got out of the car with a wave to Charlie. Immediately, all the attention of the students was on Evelyn. It wasn't something new for the girl, she was more than used to people going into a kind of trance when they observed her beauty. Not wanting to show her discomfort, she walked to the entrance of the school with a sigh as people made way for her to enter. It was going to be a long day, she thought.

However, she didn't notice the group watching her from their cars. The Cullen family, with the exception of Alice and Jasper, were looking curiously at the new student.

"Looks like you have competition, babe." Emmett chuckled.

"Shut up, Emmett." His wife rolled her eyes, lightly slapping the vampire's arm. "Let's go inside before we're late."

‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗

The classes went relatively well. She sat down in the first row next to Angela, a nice girl, although a little shy. Soon after, the rest of her group of friends rushed to meet her. Evelyn hadn't yet figured out if Jessica, Angela's friend, liked her, but she preferred not to think too much about it. Mike Newton and some other boys also rushed to talk to her, asking her several questions to the point of giving her a headache. Angela noticed how uncomfortable Evelyn was, despite everything, keeping a smile on her face, and looked away from the questioning. Evelyn thanked her with a relieved smile, and spent the rest of the morning glued to the brunette.

Finally, it was time for lunch. Evelyn sat at the table with the group of friends, remaining silent but nodding when she felt it was necessary, since she didn't know exactly what they were talking about. The cafeteria echoed with the sound of students talking excitedly, happy to finally have some time off from boring classes.

But suddenly, a silence fell over the room. Evelyn looked up from her food with a frown, trying to figure out what was happening. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a group of people entering. She glanced at them, but immediately noticed the common features between them: an almost inhuman beauty, pale skin and eyes of exactly the same color.

"Why are they all quiet?" the girl asked confused.

"Those are the Cullens." Jessica immediately informed, looking at them intensely. She had her chin resting on her hand, a sigh escaping her pink lips.

"And?" Evelyn rolled her eyes discreetly, returning her focus to her food. She wasn't going to stare at the Cullens like most people did these days, she knew what it was like to have unwanted attention and she wasn't going to do the same.

"First of all, they're all together, like together together."

"Hmm, I didn't know there was another kind of together." Evelyn hummed. The Cullens, already seated at the table, chuckled slightly at the girl's disinterest in hearing Jessica tell her everything she knew about their lives.

"Who is she?" Jasper found himself asking unconsciously, his gaze locked on the girl who nodded along with everything Jessica said sarcastically. Her dark blonde hair fell in waves down her back, and her blue eyes met his amber ones for a mere second. But that moment was all it took for him to realize who she was.

"I don't believe it." Edward shook his head, having read his brother's thoughts.

"What is it?" Rose asked impatiently.

"She's Jasper's mate." Edward blurted out, ignoring the glare Jasper immediately sent him. "But it's weird, I can't hear her thoughts. It's like a constant static that prevents me from hearing what she's thinking." He continued, clearly frustrated.

"And her blood, focus!" Alice exclaimed with a smile. She grabbed her blonde best friend's arm. "Jasper, her blood! It's not tempting, she just smells good. It's kind of calming."

Now that Alice had spoken, the rest of the vampires tried to focus solely on the girl, ignoring the smell of blood from the other students. They all looked at each other in shock.

"It's true." Jasper muttered in shock. It was impossible not to have a smile form on his lips. "I don't feel the need to drink her blood. And now, I don't even care about the others anymore."

"Awe, this is so cute! I'm so happy! What a shame I didn't see her appear in my visions." Alice frowned, but smiled when Lucas, her boyfriend, put his arm around her shoulders.

"Look at you, brother." Lucas teased Jasper. "In a matter of seconds she already won your heart."

"How is this possible? We have to tell Carlisle." Rosalie said immediately. But deep down, she was relieved that Jasper had finally found his mate. He had been alone for too long. And the fact that her scent didn't affect vampires could mean that her family wouldn't be in danger.

‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗

The rest of the week went well. Everytime Charlie saw her walking to the school, he offered her a ride. And on one of those occasions, he had told her that if she wanted the job, it was hers. So the next day she went to dinner at The Carver Café to find out when she could start. Luckily, the waitress there, Molly, was very helpful and explained everything to Evelyn. Now, she would have to go there some days after school and some weekends too.

The girl also became closer to Angela and even Jessica, who after getting over the brief feeling of envy she felt towards Evelyn, was a pleasant person to talk to.

But the Cullens were acting strange. Evelyn noticed the looks they gave her during the day, despite trying to be discreet. But Evelyn had been trained her whole life to notice the smallest details, and that didn't go unnoticed. Nor did their unusual ways of acting, and Evelyn felt like she knew what they were. However, she didn't want to get involved in other people's secrets, because she was also protecting one. On top of that, she didn't know if she could trust them. Although she felt a strange connection to the blond boy, whose name she remembered was Jasper.

She was closing the her locker, after taking out all the books she needed for her boring English class, when she dropped one. But before she could catch it, a pale hand was already there.

Evelyn looked up, finding Alice Cullen in front of her, as well as Lucas, who stood behind her like a bodyguard.

"Hi, Evie! Can I call you that?" When the dark blonde nodded, the brunette continued. "Great! Oh, I'm Alice and this is my boyfriend Lucas."

"It's nice to meet you both." Evelyn smiled, her cheeks turning slightly pink. A boy, with his group of friends, who was passing by them almost tripped over his own feet when he saw the girl's breathtaking smile.

However, the boys hurried to leave when they saw Lucas's deadly look, as well as Jasper's, who was pretending to go to his locker just a few meters away from Evelyn and his siblings.

"Well, thanks for the help." Evelyn turned her attention back to the conversation they were having, embarrassed that the Cullens had seen that.

"No problem at all! What class are you having now?"

"Hmm, I have English. Actually, I have to get going, you know she doesn't like it when someone arrives late and I don't want to be on the receiving end of her anger." Eve chuckled.

"Wait!" Alice exclaimed. Lucas didn't even try to hide his smirk, already knowing what his hyperactive girlfriend was going to do. "Jasper has that class now too. You guys can go together! Where is he? Oh, there he is!" she said when she saw him right behind them, making a hand signal for him to come closer. She winked at him.

"Oh, no need, don't worry." Evelyn tried to get away from the situation. Quite honestly, she still hadn't figured out why she felt that way about Jasper, who she didn't even know from anywhere. Besides, she didn't want an awkward silence to form while they walked to class.

"Nonsense, you both go to the same class, you can walk together! See you later!"

"Shall we, darling?" Jasper asked as soon as the couple left. Evelyn thought she might faint at the sound of the blond's accent. She looked down, hoping her hair would hide her slightly red face at the nickname.

"Sure, lead the way."

"So, are you enjoying Forks?" the vampire tried to start a conversation. His brain was about to short-circuit, his mate was so close to him. He could feel her emotions, and her vanilla scent was like a drug to him, in the best possible way.

"I've been really enjoying it actually. I'm living with Chief Swan, and he's been really nice to me. And contrary to what most people might believe, I do enjoy this weather."

"A nice change around here I see. Most people are hoping for a sunny day." Jasper said, a little disappointed that they were getting to class. He wanted more time to talk to her.

"Have you and your family been here long?" she asked after thanking him when Jasper opened the door for her and let her in first. Thankfully, the teacher wasn't there yet.

"We moved in about a year ago. My dad's a doctor at the hospital."

"Your dad seems to be a great person." Evelyn looked around, seeing Angela sitting alone at the table, staring in shock at Evelyn and Jasper. "My friend is over there, I'll sit with her if you don't mind."

"Of course." he nodded.

"Thank you for walking with me. It was nice meeting you." she smiled, receiving one back.

As soon as she sat down next to Angela, she was bombarded with questions. She looked at the boy one last time, surprised when she realized that he had never stopped looking at her.

#twilight x reader #twilight #jasper hale #jasper hale x reader #jasper hale x oc #jasper hale x y/n #jasper cullen x reader #edward cullen x reader #jacob black x reader #twilight saga #new moon #breaking dawn

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tsaheylutales · 15 days ago

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You weren't supposed to know | Chapter 1

Hello! This is my first Steve Harrington fic EVER so please be kind. There will be a part 2, i just got impatient and wanted to post something. She's an angsty girl, hope you like it! It’s basically a rewrite of season 4 episode 2.

Pairing: Steve Harrrington X Henderson!Reader

Warnings: ANGST, stranger things level threats, mentions of blood and knives, reader is a softer girl so if you don't like that, scroll, Steve and Dustin are very ooc so...keep that in mind. Let me know if there's any more!

Summary: Steve wasn’t always like this, he used to be kind, and caring, and he used to call you every night. But now? He barely calls at all. Most of the time it’s you calling him. Or you visiting him…Or you planning dates…He’s just really busy at the moment…That’s it. That’s gotta be it…Right?

about 2k words

You weren’t supposed to know about the Upside Down. Or the Mind Flayer. Or Eleven. Or interdimensional monsters made of blood and flesh. You were just supposed to drop Dustin off at the mall. That was it. Easy. In and out. But Steve’s your boyfriend. And you hadn’t seen or heard from him in days. So…why not surprise him?

Worst case, he’s dodging you. Best case, you kiss in the backroom of Scoops Ahoy and steal an ice cream on the way out. That’s what you told yourself, anyway.

Instead, you and Robin ended up decoding a secret Russian message, discovered a secret Russian base underneath Starcourt Mall, got captured, maybe drugged, tortured a little, and were eventually saved by two kids with an electrified stick.

And then, just when you thought your night couldn’t possibly get any worse, a walking nightmare made out of flesh and bones clawed its way through the mall like it had personal vengeance. Turns out it did but that's besides the point.

Your entire life flipped upside down.

And Steve, your boyfriend…He had known the whole time. And so did your little brother, Dustin.

And afterwards, everyone else went back to normal, back to school, back to work. They made no mention of the horrors that happened that night. They just moved on. Like you didn’t fight The Mind Flayer. Like Hopper didn’t die in that Russian base. Like Billy didn’t die in front of you all.

You haven’t gone a single night without nightmares since. And it doesn’t help you have no one to talk to. Not anymore.

You’re not really part of the group. You’re just there.

You’re Dustin’s older sister. You’re Steve’s girlfriend, well, sort of. On a good day, when he remembers to call.

You joined the fight the same day Robin did. Same nightmare. Same blood-soaked floors. Same mindless terror crawling out of a gate you didn’t even know existed until it nearly swallowed you whole. But somehow…She became one of them. Fast. Seamless. Like she was always supposed to be there. And you…didn’t.

You're the one who drives them sometimes, the one who gets asked, “Hey, can you grab snacks?” before a movie night, ones you weren’t even invited to.

You hear about things after they’ve happened. “Oh, sorry, it was last minute.” “Did we not tell you?” “Thought you were busy.”

You’re always busy, apparently. Even when you’re not. Even when you’re waiting by the phone, waiting for someone to call. Waiting for someone to invite you to anything.

You’re not welcome. You’re unwanted.

You try not to let it show. You plaster on your smile. You nod along. You say “cool” and “no worries” and “maybe next time.”

But it gnaws at you. That hollow, twisting feeling.

“Have you talked to anyone else?” Dustin’s voice is tight, panicked, as he and Max hurry down the hallway. They need to find Eddie, and ask him about what happened last night. What happened to Chrissy. They suspect it's something more evil, covered in slimy tentacles and sharp teeth, or a dark shadow, or maybe a towering monster made of the citizens of Hawkins.

“No. I can’t find Lucas or Nancy, and Mike’s in-”

“California. Shit, shit, shit.” He cuts her off without thinking. His brain is moving too fast, thoughts crashing into each other. Too many questions, half the party missing, half the party on the other side of the country.

“What about your sister?” She blurts, scrunching up her face.

He sighs, a defeated, frustrated sigh. He treats you like a last resort, you are the last resort but…You know about the upside down so…guess you’ll have to do.

“[Y/n]! Can you take us to Family Video!?” he yells, sharp and impatient.

You peek your head out from your room, wide-eyed. “Right now?...”

“Yes, come on!” He rolls his eyes, tapping his watch.

“Uh, okay. Let me get my shoes-”

“Now! Come on!!”

“Okay-okay.” You whisper, shrinking back slightly.

Max glances at him. “That was harsh,” she mutters under her breath. Dustin ignores it.

Your mom calls out, “Dusty, where are you going?”

“To see a friend.” His voice comes out stressed. Too panicked to just be ‘seeing a friend’. He’s already heading for the door.

“You heard the news. It’s not safe.” Your mom’s voice waves and it makes you feel guilt. She’s already been through enough.

“We’ll be careful. Thanks, Mom. Love you. Bye.”

“Bye, Mom. Love you,” you murmur behind him, brushing a kiss to her forehead.

Max and Dustin take off ahead of you, their sneakers smacking against the pavement as they storm towards the video store. Dustin throws the door open and they both rush inside.

They’re already at the front desk, knocking over stacks of tapes, looking through the computer. They set up a “base of operations,” whatever that means. You just stand there, eyes drifting across the rows of movie tapes, pretending to read the titles you’ve seen a hundred times. You feel invisible.

You still don’t know what’s going on but, the urgency in their voices, the frantic energy? It’s terrifying. It feels like last year again. Whatever it is, it’s scary…. Fourth of July scary.

Your eyes find Steve.

He’s crouched near a toppled display, restacking the mess Dustin left behind. He doesn’t notice you at first. He doesn’t look up.

You walk over, swallowing the nerves in your throat. Your smile feels fragile, like if you hold it too long it might crack and fall.

“Hey.”

Steve looks up. His face shifts. Not into a smile, into something smaller. Tighter. “Oh. Hey…”

Your heart sinks, just slightly.

“Um…” You try to sound casual but your voice wavers. “You didn’t call. Last night…”

He blinks. Hesitates. “Right. Yeah. Sorry. Had to cover for Robin.”

A lie. You know it’s a lie. Robin was here yesterday. You came in to drop off a tape after school, about an hour before he was supposed to call. “You couldn’t have called from here?” you ask, softer this time.

“Super busy.” He mumbles. “Yeah, it was just…really busy.”

He’s not even looking at you anymore. The bell over the door rings again. A girl walks in, she’s pretty, confident, like she belongs. Steve glances at her, not you.

You bite your lip and clear your throat softly. “I was thinking…” You start, trying to sound upbeat, like this isn’t breaking your heart. “Maybe we could go out this weekend? Dinner, or a movie? Whatever you want.”

Steve exhales. Not a sigh. Something heavier. Tired. Dismissive.

“Yeah, maybe.”

You latch onto the word like it’s a life boat. “Cool! I’m free all weekend, so we could do whatever, whenever, I mean-”

“Look,” He cuts in, voice clipped and distant. “I’ve got a lot going on this weekend. Maybe another time.”

Oh.

Your smile falls before you can stop it, not dramatically, just…falls. Ever so slightly. A tiny fracture. Barely a second of vulnerability before your instincts kick in. You catch it. Forcing a grin even though your lip wobbles.

The smile that returns doesn’t fit right. It strains too much. It doesn't reach your eyes. You nod. Once. Twice. “Yeah. Sure. Another time.”

Steve gives you a tight lipped smile and turns to your brother, who is still trying to find Eddie. You awkwardly wait by the front desk, picking at it nervously. Steve wasn’t always like this, he used to be kind, and caring, and he used to call you every night. But now? He barely calls at all. Most of the time it’s you calling him. Or you visiting him…Or you planning dates…He’s just really busy at the moment…That’s it. That’s gotta be it…Right?

“Hey,” Max says, her voice breaking your from your thoughts. You blink, startled. “We found something. Are you coming?”

You nod automatically, though the words don’t register. Your body moves before your mind catches up.

Eddie slams Steve against the wooden wall of the cabin. It’s damp and a little rotten, that’s what happens to things left unchecked. You gasp, moving towards your boyfriend before realising he has a knife. You swallow softly and look towards Dustin, eyes begging him to do something.

“Woah, woah! Eddie, stop! Eddie, it’s me, it’s Dustin! This is Steve. He’s not gonna hurt you. Right, Steve?”

“Right. Yeah.” Your boyfriend breathes out. He gulps, eyes squeezed shut.

“Steve…” Dustin says gently. “Why don’t you drop the oar? He’s cool. He’s cool.”

“I’m cool, man. I’m cool.” Steve echoes, voice shaky and wavering.

“What are you doing here?” Eddie growls, pressing the knife closer to Steve’s neck.

“We’re looking for you!” Robin jumps in. “We’re here to help.”

“Eddie, these are my friends. You know Robin, from band? This is Max, my friend who never wants to play D&D.”

Dustin raises his hands. “We’re on your side. I swear on my mother. Right, guys?”

A chorus of, “Yes. Yes, we swear on Dustin’s mother,” echoes around the small cabin.

“Yeah. Dustin-Dustin’s mother,” Steve stammers.

Eddie pauses, and then lets him go. Steve's knees almost buckle as he falls away, and you immediately rush towards him, reaching for his face “Hey, you’re okay. You’re safe-“ You coo.

“I know-I know, god stop touching me!” He shoves you away, leaning towards Robin, who’s sat on the other side of him.

Your eyes widen, and you feel that familiar pit in your stomach. “Sorry. Sorry, I-“ You start, confused, voice wobbling.

Steve gives you a look, one that he’s been giving you a lot recently. One that says ‘You’re really getting on my nerves, please stop talking.’

It makes you swallow your apology, and you look down to your scuffed shoes.

They’re a beat-up pair of converse that you bought back in sophomore year. They’ve been everywhere with you, including some very lovely dates with Steve. Like when you went to the movies, where he kissed you for the first time. Or like the picnic, where he fed you strawberries and whispered he loved you while watching the stars.

Dates like that feel like a dream. They don’t happen anymore, haven’t in months. Not like they used to.

For the rest of the conversation, you’re not there. Not really.

#steve harrington angst #steve harrington x you #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #stranger things x reader #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things x y/n #stranger things x you #stranger things angst

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chris-prank · 5 months ago

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A desperate yandere in your area

Chapter 4 : Sweet reward

Sub pathetic yandere x GN reader

Previous chapter

(This is a work of fiction for entertainment purposes only, I do not support yandere behaviors in real life)

CW: NSFW, dom reader, bottom reader, sub yandere, collar, leash, praise kink, pet play, teasing, porn with plot, raw sex, yandere behavior and reader is horny too

Word count: Over 3K

･*:.｡..｡.:*･*:.｡..｡.:*･

It was late in the evening. You entered your apartment with hunched shoulders under the weight of your bag. As you threw it on the ground, relief coursed through your whole body. Suddenly, a familiar voice made your heart skip a beat.

“Welcome home master!” Jacce said enthusiastically while appearing in your field of view. He was wearing a stereotypical cooking apron. The ones with “kiss the cook” written on it and heart-shaped pockets on both sides. If you weren’t so irritated by the appellation he just gave you, you would’ve remembered that you didn’t own any aprons like that.

“I already told you to stop calling me that.” You rolled your eyes, “well not in an everyday setting.”

It had been a week since you accepted to make him your pet, as he liked to call it. You still weren’t used to having someone else living with you, especially someone like him. TYou were aware that this guy did bad things, yet you couldn’t help but feel a bit sorry for Jacce. After all, he was really keen on the whole, “I only want to serve you” attitude. Besides, there was no reason to deny that it wasn’t what motivated you to take him in. The noises he made the first time you touched him were all you ever dreamed of in a man. So you definitely weren't regretting your decision.

At least for now.

“Sorry! I won’t do it again m— emm supper is ready!” He left the hall in a hurry, waiting for you to follow him. It did smell rather nice, and you were not against having something warm to eat. Jacce’s cooking was one thing you got around pretty quickly since the start of his stay. Gone are the days of eating ramens because you were too tired or busy to make anything complex. You entered the kitchen to see a mouth watering meal on the table. Next to it was Jacce standing proudly, his hands behind his back.

“Are you happy?” he asked with the sole purpose of receiving your praise.

You ignore if it’s because you found his mannerism cute or you were influenced by the fact that he called himself “puppy” on multiple occasions, but you walked closer to him and stroked his hair as a sign of appreciation.

“Yes! You did an amazing job.”

To your surprise Jacce made a loud moan from your touch, his mouth slightly open and his tongue now sticking out. You completely froze in response, and it felt like your brain did too. When he realized that you had stopped petting him, his mouth closed quickly and his face turned bright red, this time in embarrassment.

For a moment, an awkward silence had fallen between the two of you.

“Did you just…” You couldn’t finish your sentence, that Jacce was already babbling what seemed like an apology. He backed away as well, letting your hand drop. He seemed so scared that you would change your mind and kick him out now. You could see imaginary dog ears falling to the side of his head as he looked at you with teary eyes.

He really is like a puppy.

“Jacce it’s fine! I was just… taken by surprise!” You tried to reassure him, “you have to admit that your reaction wasn’t very typical.” You waved your hands in the air to somewhat back up your point. He seemed a little bit reassured, but still had doubts.

“You don’t… think I’m weird now do you?” Jacce whispered while playing with his hands anxiously.

If anything makes you weird it’s definitely not this, was your instant thought, but you obviously didn’t share that with him. You did love the way he responded to such an innocent touch. It made your stomach feel funny.

“No, I don’t think you’re weird.” You took a step forward, “now what about we sit down to eat this delicious meal you made and… maybe I will reward you for it after.” You spoke that last part close to his left ear, a grin spreading on your lips.

To claim that this man sat down at the speed of light would be an understatement. You didn’t even have time to compliment his cuisine that he had choked down half of his plate. After five minutes, only because you asked him to slow down, he had finished eating and was on his way to do the dishes. You, on the other hand, were enjoying every piece of the meal. The temptation to lick it clean was almost unbearable. It was a pleasant surprise when you discovered that he was this skilled the first time he cooked for you. It's a bit mean to admit it, but based on his personality and appearance, you assumed he was the type of guy to only eat microwaved food. In a way you weren’t really in a position to judge knowing your own habits.

Maybe it explains why he worked at that coffee shop. You continued to theorize to yourself how this raccoon man could put this much effort into cooking. But while lost in thoughts, you didn’t notice the figure currently kneeling down at your feet.

“Are you finished yet? I… I want my reward.” Jacce whined, while looking up at you and hesitantly clang to your leg. He was moving his thigh together while letting out small moans, certainly trying to get some friction out of it. So you decided to tease him a little.

“I am, but my plate needs to be washed first.” You declare while avoiding his gaze. You could hear him whimper as a result, yet he quickly got up and bolted off to take care of it.

By the time he came back the lavender apron had been thrown to the ground, giving you a complete view of his depraved state. The outline of his erection was clearly visible and a wet spot stained the front of his jeans. For how long was he leaking pre-cum for it to be this bad?! Or did he already finish with just the petting from earlier?

Jacce didn’t kneel back down, however his hunched posture still gave him a vulnerable look. As you got up, you swore you saw his bulge twitch despite the layers of clothing. You grab one of his hands and lead him to the bedroom. His head was hanging low while he followed you, almost timidly, which was a huge contrast from his previous perverted and shameless behaviours. Once you arrived, you sat on the bed and took a good look at him. Jacce was wearing his forest green turtleneck, as he often did at the coffee shop. Suddenly, it reminded you of something and this idea filled you with delight.

“Tell me puppy, have you been wearing your collar under your turtleneck?” You asked with an innocent voice. He shivered at the question, his cock leaking a little bit. He really hoped this was going into the direction he had fantasized about for months.

“Yes… I have been wearing it all day, I… I just wanted to show that I’m yours” He pulled his turtleneck down, putting his red collar on display.

“Do you have a leash to go with it?”

When Jacce had arrived at your place, he’d only brought a few bags with him. You didn’t go through all of them, but you were convinced there was one in there. You were right to think so, since he seemed to perk up even more at your question. You didn’t even have to ask him to go get it, since he walked directly to a big backpack, as if the man knew perfectly in which one it was. Jacce ended up pulling out a medium size leash and clipped it to the D-ring of his collar.

“I’m ready… Can I choose my reward ?”

“Of course, we will do what makes you the most happy.”

“Then I… I want to show how much of a devoted doggy I am for you.”

You instantly knew what he meant by that. It was only a matter of time since his evident inclination for petplay surfaced, and you were surprised he didn't really make any attempt before this moment. Jacce slowly unzipped his jeans, giving you glances in case you stopped him, but you let him fully uncover his lower half. Finally free from his boxers, Jacce's swollen cock throbbed in the air and dripped precum onto the hardwood floor. You held in a laugh seeing it swing as he got closer to you.

“You need to take your pants off too.” He whined, losing his patience and only wanting to relieve himself from this semi torture. You decided not to tease him further, undressing automatically. You were convinced that if you had taken your time, he would have started crying… which you wouldn’t really mind when you thought about it.

At last, Jacce could see for himself how turned on you were. He was drooling at the sight.

“Y-You look so good.” He lowered himself to admire it up close, the head of his cock almost touching your leg. You took the chance to grab the leash, making Jacce moan and hump your tight. You pull yourself away, but as you were still holding on, he stumbled onto the bed. The second he noticed you positioning yourself on all four onto the bed, raising your ass in front of him, he immediately stopped whining from the lack of stimulation.

“Oh thank you, thank you, thank you! I-I promises to make you feel so good.”

Jacce positioned himself behind you, his hands trembling on your back in anticipation. Jacce bit down his lip, ecstatic that he could pleasure you like you deserved. He slid one finger inside of you, making sure you were prepared for him. The last thing he desired was to hurt you in the process. Then he steadily moved his finger in and out, hadding a second, then a third soon after .

When he felt it was stretched enough around his finger he asked. “Please can I fuck you now? Pleaseeee master?”

You didn’t correct him for calling you that honorific this time. You had to admit that it was kinda cute, just not in front of other people or in your day-to-day life. Your friends or family didn’t need to know about the dirty things going on between you and Jacce.

“Yes puppy, you can.” You swayed your butt in an inviting way as you felt the tip of his cock brush against you.

Your breath hitch has the head got shoved in your entrance, however a muffled whimper coming from Jacce overshadowed it. You expected him to thrust deeper, yet he wasn’t moving an inch anymore. You turned your head back a little and tugged at the leash to get an explanation out of him.

“You feel s–so warm around my mmhg… I need to take my time or I’ll–I’ll…” Jacce swallowed hard and massaged your hips gently has a form of apology. You wanted to move onto him so badly, to hear all the pretty sounds he’d make, but you restrained yourself. This was his reward after all, you needed to let him have a bit of fun.

He inhaled shakily before sinking his shaft deeper. It took a moment before he was completely buried inside of you. Your warmth was, in one word, overwhelming. He took off his sweater turtleneck, tossing it aside, wanting to feel the cold air on his skin to compensate for the burning feeling spreading across his chest. You gawked at the sight of one of his pierced nipples. You never thought he could manage to look hotter and mentally noted that one day you needed to fuck him stupid while tugging at it.

After five slow trust, Jacce started to increase his speed and soon enough he was pounding into you desperately. The room was only filled with the sounds of flesh hitting flesh and the depraved moans that Jacce was letting out next to your ears. Despite the fast movements, he was keeping you in place with his arms wrapped around your waist. He was maybe the one on top, but all the pathetic whines he made every time his dick slid back inside you and the collar around his neck, showed who was really in charge.

He wasn’t the only one that was having a pleasurable experience, because despite Jacce having an average size length, you could really feel his thickness stretching your inner walls. Not to mention that his cock kept pulsating against it, hitting all the right spots. So you couldn’t help but let out a plenty of moans and praise for him as a result.

“You're doing it so well, such a good boy for me.” You turned your head to kiss him, which he happily obliged. He had been drooling so much that his lips were already wet when clashing against yours. Jacce kept making depraved noises while kissing in the most sloppy way possible.

You pulled back to get some air, leaving a chance for the mess of man to speak.

“A-aahh… Puppy is g-good for you, only you.” He breathed out from the intense make out.

You pulled on his leash, causing him to let out a moan and lay even more on top of you. At this rate, he was grinding against your ass like a pathetic animal more than anything, his balls slapping against it rhythmically. Jacce only wished to stay deep inside of you as much as possible. You just felt so good around him, it would be a crime to pull out.

“Can puppy Mngh-ph suck your neck? Please, p-please, please!”

It seemed like each word that came out of his mouth required a huge amount of effort and the same could have been said to you. You tried saying yes, but only a vague humming came out. Jacce took the occasion to murmur how grateful he was, before sucking and lapping at the nape of your neck. Suddenly, you gasped as you felt one of his hands sliding in your inner thigh to touch your sensitive parts.

“Ahh Puppy loves hearing… h-how good he is for you.” He huffed while satisfying the heat between your legs.

This was the last straw for your arms, your face hitting the mattress with a small thump. Your hands now resting on both sides of your head, one still strongly pulling the leash. Your mind slowly went into a haze as you let your mouth open and drool leak profusely onto the sheets. You didn’t even have enough energy to try and keep yourself still, instead letting your body move on it's own has the man bucked his hips into you. It was your turn to let out depraved noises, melting Jacce’s heart with adoration.

“Nnnf p-please, let me hear y-you Aaah… more.” He panted, resting his chin on your shoulder. His right hand was still stimulating your intimate parts, pulling additional sounds from you. He could feel your walls tightening around his shaft, indicating you were getting close.

“Please cum around puppy’s d-dumb dick, Nnngf… won’t finish… until you do.” He took a moment before adding, “that's the… only thing I w-want.”

You tightly shutted your eyes before letting out multiple moans while your insides grope around him one last time. His hand on your sex did not show any sign of stopping its administration, putting your brain on overdrive. Jacce mouvements became messy as well. It was impossible for him to hold his climax after feeling you release like that.

“C-Can I cum inside master? Please Aaah–”

A wave of pleasure prevented him from finishing his pleas. You didn’t know if it was because of the thrill of the moment or because he had manage to fuck you silly, but you eagerly agreed. The second you nodded it's like you had activated something in him, because he cried out a pure sound of ecstasy, loads of cum shooting out of his cock. He trusted his hips a few times before gradually stopping. Jacce couldn’t talk anymore and was only panting hard behind you. Both of his hands went back on your stomach, one rubbing it in a soothing manner. His softened shaft pulled out on its own, leaving your gaping hole to drip out his cum. As you dropped the leash, Jacce rolled off of you and onto his side, bringing you with him. You were completely drained out of all energy, so you didn’t stop him. In this current position, his legs were wrapped around yours, trapping you. Even with the aftermath effects of the orgasm clouding both of your minds, you could nonetheless sense his gaze fixated on the back of your skull. Maybe he was waiting in case you complained about how he was holding you. But with no sign of disagreement his breath came back to a normal rhythm and the pressure of his eyes on you diminished, but not by much.

After regaining a bit of force, you turned and nudged him onto his back so you could rest your head on his chest. Which made Jacce’s cheek heats up and a small shudder traveled his body. We just had sex and he is still flustered by an action like this? You could hear his heartbeat grow faster under your ear, confirming your suspicions. You didn’t make a comment about it though. It would have only embarrassed him further and you were too tired for that. Also being intimate with him in such a way was definitely different. Not that it was a bad thing, on the contrary you really appreciated it.

Then, you felt him gently trapping you between his arms and chest, nuzzling his cheek against your hair. No words were shared. Only enjoying each other's warm bodies and the tranquility of the night was enough. After a long time of cuddling, you finally tried to sit up by squirming out of his grasp, succeeding but only for Jacce to grab you by the waist.

“I want to do it.” He mumbled with a sleepy voice, “let me take care of you.”

You chuckled, “I bet you can't even get out of bed.”

Jacce shook his head and tried to sit up like you did, only to rest his head on your shoulder. It took him a huge amount of effort to jump out of bed, still naked nonetheless, except for his collar and leash obviously. As you watched him leave, you layed back down and closed your eyes, relaxing to the distant sound of running water, slowly losing track of time.

Soon enough you felt a presence looming over you.

“The bath is ready.” He whispered while caressing your arm.

You rested yourself onto him as you walked out of the room. Since your eyelids were halfway closed, you couldn’t see how giddy Jacce was to do this with you. For him these “after care” moments were the ultimate proof that you really wanted him by your side. Why else would they want to cuddle or clean me? Either way, he knew for a fact that’s what he yearned to do with you.

The sensation of the cold tiles under your feet stimulated your brain enough to wake you up, but Jacce still made sure that you didn’t slip while entering the warm bath. Feeling the hot water wrap around you released all the tensions in your limbs. You let yourself sink to shoulder level, enjoying the sensation it was bringing you. The man waited for you to make some space for his tall figure before getting in as well. It was small for two people, forcing you to sit between his legs, your back resting on his chest. It was the first time you bathed together and he was thanking all the power of the universe that it made you two so close. Jacce started to run water over your body and rubbed his hands full of soap over your skin. He was cautious not to touch you inappropriately, asking you multiple times before cleaning your more private areas. He really was treating your body with utmost respect.

“Did I do a good job?”

You nod, watching his hands go up and down your arm.

“Let me do it next.”

After moving out of the tub to sit behind him, you started to do the same to Jacce, but every time you touched his skin small noises could be heard. You stretched your neck in an attempt to see his face. The flushed man noticed and seemed to feel even more guilty.

“I-I hope I’m not making you uncomfortable…” He mumbled, ashamed of being so responsive to you. He even grimaced as he recalled the similar reaction he had a few hours ago.

“Didn’t I already tell you that it’s ok for you to react this way?”

“Yay…” He looked down at the soiled water, “but I know that I can be a lot sometimes.”

“I mean… having unusual reactions doesn't automatically make them bad, you know.” You stopped cleaning his shoulders to run your hands down his back, “it makes you stand out.”

You made sure there wasn’t any soap left on his back, before pressing your lips on it with a chaste kiss. Your actions and words shot directly to his dick.

“You shouldn’t tease me like that…” He whined, flustered.

Jacce was right. If you wanted to have a full night of sleep, working both of you up wasn’t the way to go.

“I’m getting sleepy again.” You yawned, “we should go back to bed.”

“You… you mean that I can sleep with you tonight!?”

You hummed a melodic yes.

Until now Jacce had been sleeping on the sofa since you weren’t ready to have him so close to you while unconscious. The first few nights you even locked the door of your bedroom and placed a lightweight object in front of it. A simple trick that would have indicated if he had picked the lock. Good thing for him that everything seemed in order every time you woke up in the night or in the morning.

･*:.｡..｡.:*･*:.｡..｡.:*･

So that was chapter four and I hope your horny people liked it! Next one will be more story focus and will go further on Jacce yandere side...

Fun fact: This was the first chapter I wrote for this entire story, so there might bee more grammatical errors in it

Like promise, here is the drawing for this chapter!

#yandere #yandere x gn reader #yandere male #yandere oc #tw yandere #sub!yandere #sub yandere #gn reader #x gn reader #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #My oc-Jacce #dom reader #pathetic yandere #male yandere #desperate yandere #yandere x you #my art

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whambambatfam · 3 months ago

Text

Webs of a Wing

Chapter 4

Uuugghh, so late... I'm so sorry!

I cut this chapter down so many times, and despite its normal length, all the cutting down makes it feel incomplete. I just hope it's not bad ⁽͑ʺˊ˙̫ˋʺ⁾̉

The thing that really messed me up is that there's only a few months before Tim comes in?? This is not enough time for grief or my plotline.

15 - ... That's it.. so much is happening to this poor child in such a short amount of time..

───── ⋆⋅ 🕸 ⋅⋆ ─────

The sun cuts through Gotham's smoggy morning skies. An almost ever-present fog settled softly over the city, pierced only by the dark skyscrapers it lays over. Bruce is doing the one thing he's feared since bringing in the first Robin.

Burying his child.

Yet, he's stopped at the door, the old butler standing firm in his way, "Alfred what are you doing? We've got-"

He's cut off with a tut, "I won't allow it, I will not let you hurry off this time. Master Bruce, you must spare a moment of your time. Just this once." Arms crossed and face set in that fatherly disapproval Bruce always faltered under. He would usually have at least an idea of what he was being scolded over.

Now? He's not feeling like a great detective; he's just lost and hurting. "What's this about? You know what today is—Jason's funeral." Again, he's cut off by an increasingly frustrated Alfred.

"Exactly, sir. You ought to know how much they meant to one another." Besides them, Barbra and Gordon had planned to meet at the cemetery. The grimace over his face only grows as Bruce wracks his brain for a clue.

Giving in, he asks exasperated, "Who?"

Alfred's glare deepens, but before he can open his mouth, there's a commotion. Hurried feet, half covered, race down the hall until you slam to a stop at the banister. "I'm here! I'm so sorry!" Hobbling down the stairs, you huff, pulling on your other shoe fully.

"Oh, you're coming?" He blinks down at you, brows knitting together.

You turn your face so fast it feels like you're on the verge of whiplash. Lips nearly falling agape as you look incredulity at him. "What are you even saying? Of course?!" How could he even ask you something like that? Hot anger grips at your ears, raking down the back of your neck to dig its fingers into you deeply.

"No, you're right." He clears his throat, shame flitting across his face. You've never raised your voice at him. "Of course you're coming."

"Shall we get going then, Master Bruce?" Alfred seems mostly satisfied, finally opening the door.

The press couldn't wait to dig their fingers into this tragedy. Chomping at the bits over a false date. All to be the first to shove a camera in the face of someone grieving. Bruce has been working to keep his affairs private.

There is only a handful of people at the actual service. You arrive first with Alfred and Bruce. Gordon comes next, bickering with Barbra as he insists on pushing her wheelchair for her. You hate that you don't know what happened to her. Just like you'll never know what really happened to Jason.

Your father stands between you and the commissioner as they speak in hushed tones. Maybe it's a moment of clarity, maybe it's just pity, but he pulls you into his half embrace. The press of his solidly built side warmed you against the bite from a sudden gust of wind.

Your ears can't take in the pastor's words, lost to your own thoughts. Only days ago, you had him in your grasp, bemoaning his safety. A painful irony that hurts when you can't hold the laugh that turns into a sob. Knees giving out under you, hands wiping fruitlessly at your face.

Alfred grunts softly as he lowers himself to the ground beside you. He rubs soothing circles into your back, "Take your time, young master. I'll be here with you as long as you need."

"Where-?" Looking up, your head wipes around.

With a heavy sigh, he pats your shoulder again, "Your father left with Commissioner Gordan and his daughter." You hadn't even noticed him leave.

Releasing a similarly deep breath, you lean into his comfort. "Right, of course."

Because, of course, Batman has better things to do than grieve. How? How can it be fair? How can he fight on? How can the city buzz around you? How can day turn to night? How can the earth keep spinning? How can it all just leave you behind?

When your world has come to a stop at the foot of a perfect square of fresh soil.

You went back the next day, and the next, and the next. After a week, you stopped asking Alfred to take you. He was busy as it was, and it was starting to feel embarrassing despite his understanding and reassurance. MJ and Gwen have gone with you, both together and separately. Jason had grown close to each of you in the precious few years you all knew him. Pushing on, once a day, after grinding through school and extracurriculars, you bid your friends a good night and head to the graveyard. Coming to sit at the same spot that's worn to a small dirt patch in your regular use.

Just as when he was here with you, you told him about your day, grades, drama, worries, hopes, the things he would have liked to see, to hear, to eat, to do... But he couldn't, and after a few weeks, you weren't sure if this was helping anymore. Thinking of him in everything just to repeat it all back to an empty sky.

Even your usual late-night ornithology had dived. Well, more like a stumble, but... It's different now. The whole thing just felt so unfair. Seeing him suited up perfectly, like your brother's not in a grave. Robin is gone, and Batman moves along.

It's one of those nights when you are more hate-watching than admiring. Still taking your camera with you. What's the point in going out if you don't get at least one pic'? You're on the bus headed downtown when a familiar buzzing in your pocket jostles you from the passing sights of the city. Reading the contact your stomach drops seeing the name Dick Grayson display across the screen. You squeeze the phone in your hand, taking a deep breath before putting on your 'I totally want to be talking to you' voice, "Hey, Dickie, what is it?" God forbid he thinks something is wrong. You'll be tracked down and shipped back to the manor 'for your own good.'

"Wanted to make sure you got home alright." He says flippantly, it sounds like he's out and about somewhere, likely trying to look good for someone.

"I'm almost there. Call you when I get in." Of course, you couldn't escape a call with your Big Brother without a safety lecture. You know he's only doing it because he feels obligated. It's his thing, to be annoying, to nag really, clucking on and on like he's some mother hen. "Yep.. Yeah.. Okay..." But you've lived in the city long enough to know when to cross the street and places with names like 'Crime Alley' are bad.

Funnily enough, it makes you think he's doing too much, for once, but you know.. he just doesn't want to lose anyone else... "Of course, Dick." But it's all fake, purely for show, tricking just himself. You won't be home tonight, and he won't notice when you don't call.

It's obvious how ready he is to dismiss and forget this, you, by the end of his monologue. Then, he says, "Okay, well, I'll talk to you later." liar, "Buh-bye, little bird, love you!" How it must make him feel so good to think you two are so close, whenever he decides you are.

You're almost out of this call, and he's hanging on the other side expectantly for it. So, un-gritting your teeth as best you can, you responded, "Love you, too, bye."

Stepping off the bus, you pull your hood lower. Making your way through the downtown streets unseen. Just as the heart of many American cities, the heart of Gotham City smells like a filthy urinal. If only you could run back to wherever the fuck you came from. Though, for all you know, that could still leave you stuck in the city of crime.

It's not all bad; Alfred and your friends are here with you. Though the latter two are becoming increasingly concerned about your mourning patterns. While the first looks you over in a sad, knowing gaze, he's seen how Waynes deal with grief. He's simply thankful you haven't gone that far.. Yet...

You make your way cautiously through the outskirts of the old ACE chemicals. The gunfire has settled, and you feel more confident in the silence to push through the broken doors. You aren't sure where in the facility Bats ended this fight, but you're itching for one more shot.

The last one, him stalking along a rooftop just before he made his descent, could suffice. Coiled like a spring, ready to pounce. He's had an edge to his movements since the incident. A volatile air that translated into hard hits and meaner take downs. You shouldn't be here, you've seen enough, gotten too close. Yet, you just couldn't help yourself.

I'm the corner of your eye; you catch his figure. He hops from a rail and slips through a broken skylight. Trying to get back out the door again, you trip. A rusty pipe catches your foot, sending you skidding across concrete. Patting across the roof tells you he's made his escape. Confirmed concretely by the rumbling of the Batmobile coming to life.

Huffing at your own inability, you pull yourself up slowly before realization hits. Your camera. Scrambling to your feet, you search for the device that had been flung from your neck. Plucking it from its spot across the floor, you inspect the damage.

Which is brutal, to say the least. Bits of lens fall from place as you turn it over. Retching the SD card from the scuffed device, you settle on a half-set of stairs. Sighing heavily as you rest your aching body carefully against the rusted metal.

Well, looks like you really won't be getting that final picture after all.

Stewing in your loss, you don't notice the small spider descending on you until it nips the side of your neck. With a yelp, you swat it off you, peering down in ire as it lands in the dirt of the factory floor. A body of vibrant red and blue that almost glowed, ferried along by spindly legs that moved like Claymation. You swipe your case, chomping it up in the camera carrier. Snapping it shut and zipping it up quickly. It'll stay, right? If this weird thing just bit you, surely Alfred would want to see it. It could be poisonous.. or venomous? Whichever, you just hope you don't die from this freaky spider.

At home, you drop the little thing in a jar you had fished out of the cupboards. Poking holes in the lid with one of your stray sewing pins. In the bathroom, you yank your shirt aside. Two little puncture wounds are surrounded by aggravated skin. Stippled and angry in color, you try not to touch it but, fuck, does it itch like crazy. You had returned home that night only to discover that Alfred was not home. Leaving you a meal to reheat and note of his return. That's fine! You'll simply run all this by him when he's back. Surely this won't kill you, right?

But, as you lay in bed, writhing around in pain, you reconsider. You're almost certain, as you begged to the empty room for Alfred's merciful aid, this may be your end. Hot pedipalps of agony claw over every inch of your body.

Despite the night when morning came you woke up feeling much better, different even. Certainly not emotionally, but physically. Your body feels different, changing. Not in a puberty way either, well, yes but, no. Your hand immediately reaches to find the mark on your neck. The memory of its irritation trickles through your rousing subconscious only to be met with nothing. Skin only slightly raised and the shade of a long held scare in the shape of the smallest circles are your only proof. Like something that happened long ago and not just last night.

Something stops you from telling Alfred. Maybe it's the teenage audacity to think that if you're not visibly hurt, everything must be okay. Right? Yeah, you totally got this. So, you head to school. What was there to be done about it now?

"This thing bites you, nasty bad, you're dying, but you miraculously recovered and now everything is okay." Gwen rehashes your story suspiciously, "Yeah, I wouldn't believe you either."

Knocking your shoulder with hers, you huff your defense, "Okay, but it did happen, though."

MJ gives you a funny face, hung up on one detail in particular, "Why would you bring it home though? Are you gonna keep it?" She leans into your side, doing your cheek, "Weird lil' pet for the lil' weirdo?"

Deadpanning at her teasing, you muse, "Actually, I was thinking of putting it in your locker."

She gasps a melodramatic, "YOU WOULDN'T." Before ripping herself away like you've physically wounded her.

Unfortunately, she stumbles into the arms of Flash-fucking-Thompson, "Aww, what's wrong, baby?" He wraps his arms around her waist, caging her against him, and he leers over her. "Need me to save you?"

MJ throws wild kicks and elbows until she's released from his grasp, "Haven't I made it clear? I'm not interested. Leave me the hell alone already flash." Huffing, she quickly backs away from him behind you and Gwen.

Flash steps up to your small group, "Don't be so stuck up!"

Gwen meets his step in turn, "She said no, being an ass isn't going to change that." She glared up at him, blocking his way.

Rolling his eyes, Flash moves to pass her. "Come on, I'm just having a little fun." There's a tingling sensation at the back of your neck as he brushes past Gwen. Time feels like it stops when Flash lifts his hand towards Mj.

Reaching out with a swiftness that you've never known, you catch his wrist, "Can't you get it through that thick skull of yours?" You're not sure where it comes from but you can practically hear his teeth grit as he scoffs hot breath in your face. "Maybe there's just nothing in there for it to hold onto."

He grips the front of your shirt in his free hand, "Do you wanna get put in the ground?" You would normally be fucking terrified. Sure, you've got training, but Flash is a lot bigger and could definitely lay you the fuck out. Yet, you don't back down, especially when he tries to pull his wrist from your grasp, and it doesn't budge. Even when he tries again. and again.

As confusion spreads across his face, a grin crosses yours, "I'd like to see you try."

Yanking his arm, you surprise even yourself as Flash's back dents the lockers behind you. Staring wide-eyed and mouth agape you watch him groan as he raises back to his feet.

"Glaring up at you, he grunts out a low, "You're so fucking dead."

The blur of his hand balling into a fist swing towards you and it felt second nature to stepping around each throw. Ducking away with grace that left even you shocked, dodging each move he made was almost too simple.

Mj leans over Gwen's shoulder. "Should we help?"

Panic floods over Flash as he huffs and puffs, trying near desperately now to land a single blow. Until you finally reach out, snatching up his wrist in your iron-clad grasp. His eyes toggle between your hand and your face as if he can't believe it actually belongs to you.

Arms crossed, Gwen watched wide-eyed as Flash struggled in vain to free himself, "Which one...?"

The moment your hand connects with his chest, the force sends him flinging backwards. Past the crowds that gathered to watch, and skidding to a stop across the half way down the hall. While you think he deserved it, you're still standing in this middle of the hall. The flames of shame lick up your spine, climbing higher as an authoritative voice calls out from through your audience, "What's going on out here?!" Standing there as aghast as the people around you, the reality of oh fuck, you just did that, engulfs you entirely.

So, what do you do? Well, you run, of course. Your friends go after you, try to at least. While you commend their efforts, you've never run this fast in your life. Any major obstacle suddenly feels like a minor inconvenience at best. Skidding around corners, you bound over cars like trash cans and swivel past ruffled people in an apologetic blur as you tear down the bustling city streets.

Finally coming to a stop, partway through your recovery from tearing through Gotham on foot, halfway through your school day, after... Alfread is going to be pissed. Beyond pissed. You just know it; you've never been in a fight before. Not like this; you weren't one to cause trouble at school. God, he's going to be so disappointed. Fuck, why did you do that? How did you do that?

Finding yourself bent over and heaving heavily at the doors of Wayne manor but, after hardly a moment of recuperation, you tear the door open. Only to remember too late that they're locked. It doesn't stop the doors from busting open at your commands as bits of metal and wood fly from place at the destructive entrance. Leaving with a broken door, dropped jaw and wondering...

What the fuck is happening to you?!

Tossing aside the useless barrier, your mind is a tangled web of fear and confusion. Simply trying to hide away in your room seems to be a challenge. Nothing can stand a chance against your touch, door handles, faucets, that poor little stool you tripped over... Obliterated under your misplaced foot.

Then, to make it better, while snatching up your blanket to hide under, a silky string shoots out of your wrist. Thin strings of silk connect the fabric back to you, sticking from a small mark on your inner wrist, ripping your hand away another comes from you to stick to the wall. You're already fuzzy, panic-stricken brain raddles uselessly in your head until you've finally wrapped snuggly in your blanket. In that, you couldn't help laughing, while you got what you wanted, you hadn't planned to do so while strung up in silken webs of your own peculiar making.

Stewing in your frustrating and accidental cocoons, you jolt at the sound of a sudden gasp from the main entrance, "Uhh.. Alfred?!" Nervously you cry out from help to the only person who could do so.

Hurried footsteps deliver you the alarmed sight of Alfread. "Young Master-!" Catching sight of you at the end of a line of destruction was one thing, but this. "Oh, my word..."

Squirming in your cage of web and blanket, your muffled voice admits sheepishly, "I think I might... Need some help."

With a deep sigh, the old butler gets to work doing what he can. It takes a while, but you're soon cut loose. Shaking his head, he quietly assesses the damage. He steps away to give you the time to pull yourself and your room together. Tearing the web down and straightening fallen doors with a sulk. It took enormous effort to not cause more damage as you helped clean up your mess.

A hand lays on your shoulder as you trudge back to your room. "Is there something you'd like to tell me?" He offers in a gentle tone.

Everything that's happened in such a short period of time, for some reason, the first thing that comes to your mind is, "I got in a fight at school..." Your head's hung, but the snort he tries to hide in a cough is still pretty audible.

His hand moves to pat your head. "While that's quite disappointing to hear, I believe there to be a more pressing matter at hand, young master." He lifts the other to present a distinctly batman-branded knife. "This is the only thing that could cut through that... web."

"Right! Yeah..."

Praying to anything that will listen you list off to Alfred how you when somewhere you should have been, hurt yourself, broke your camera, got bitten by an obviously suspicious spider.. took down someone who you were no match for typically.. broke a few more things and... wow, you are so fucked.

Yet, Alfred, your gracious Saviour, waves the fight off as an accident under rather peculiar circumstances. Putting yourself in the situation that led to said circumstances, on the other hand, well... You're lucky your only punishment is to repair the damage you've caused. Which were quite surmountable, made somehow both easier and harder with these new abilities you've come into.

Though you still must deal with the consequences at school, Alfred defended you the best he could. It was surprisingly easy for him to pay them for repairs; what they really appreciated was more donations for school maintenance if everything was swept away. You would both receive a punishment, a week of suspension, for simply causing a minor disturbance on school grounds. Not a word of anything beyond that was said to your father. For once, this was something he was the last person you want to have in attention.

You're advancing in every physical activity you put yourself through far faster than ever before. Gymnastics is a breeze, and material arts- actually, this new strength has begot the need to learn to... Reel it in. You're not trying to actually hurt your training partner, but it was all becoming increasingly difficult to handle. Alfred sneaks you a set of papers titled Super Strength Balance Training filled with helpful tips for your very specific problem and rather cute example pictures. You wonder where he got them...

It doesn't take long for you to try out making those webs again. It hasn't happened again since. So, you're worried that maybe it ran out? Does that excuse you preces on the roof of a scarily tall building? No, but your incredible new ability to jump to mind blowing heights and skipping along building tops is actual as fun as they make it look but still real fucking scary.

As fun as it is to hop around and lift the biggest thing you can find around the mansion, to Alfred's dismay. Glancing over those strange marks, you look up to an intimidating crane and flick your wrist out. Just for nothing to happen, so, you try again, "Up up and away web!" and again and, again, "Go web go!" and finally after contorting your hand in all kinds of ridiculous ways, you give up.

Pulling at your sleeve, you inspect your wrist, poking at it in frustration. It's not until you press your middle and ring finger to your palm that a string of web fly from you. You watch in wide-eyed and dropped-jaw astonishment as it soars over the crane you were aiming for and out of sight. Now, with more purpose, you aim at the metal, breathe deeply, press your fingers to your palm, and shoot.

Embarrassingly, you gasp pretty loud when the web actually latches into place. Grabbing the silk strand, you step up to the ledge. There was so much you still had to do, say, fix, but right now... You just want to know what it was like to fly. Just like they do. "Tallyho!" Kicking off the wall, you swing over the city street. Your landing was.. Less than graceful, slamming into a billboard, but you still made it! Laying breathless, night creeps in to chase away the lingering rays of light over the vacant rooftop, and you stay long after you've caught your breath. For the first time in months, everything else melted away, and you were happy.

───── ⋆⋅ 🕸 ⋅⋆ ─────

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ariestrxsh · 8 months ago

Text

sub!virgin!matt x neighbor!reader

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 content warning: smut, some fluff, some angst, mommy kink, edging, handjob

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 summary: while spending time with matt, you start to find out more about his past, which leads to your first disagreement with one another

dividers by @/anitalenia

Me & U

chapters: | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 |

"What if I came and cleaned it up for you with my mouth?" You said in a sultry tone through the phone. You smirked at Matt through the window after you watched him finish using his new sex toy, but he'd already grabbed an old t-shirt and was wiping up the mess he made.

"I'll tell you what. You can clean up the next one," he said in a breathy voice on the other end of the line. "I'd be honored," you replied, squeezing your thighs together to relieve some of the tension you were feeling.

"I'd love it if you came over, though. My dad's gone," Matt bit his lip. "What are we gonna do?" You asked him. "Anything you want," he responded. "Anything?" You wondered in a flirtatious tone. "Within reason," Matt chuckled at how dirty-minded you were.

"I'll be over soon," you replied, hanging up the phone and hurrying over to the neighbor boy's house. You let yourself in through Matt's front door, taking in all of the changes that had taken place since you'd last been over.

There were actually kitchen appliances on the counters and portraits on the wall of Matt in his younger years. You smiled, running your fingers along the frames and the glass before making your way up the staircase.

You turned the door knob to Matt's room, and as you swung open the door, he was pulling his zipper closed and still trying to catch his breath. He looked up at you and smiled. "So, what do you think of your new fleshlight?" You teased Matt.

"I think you know what I think," Matt playfully rolled his eyes. "I'm glad you like it," you leaned up against his door frame and looked him up and down. "Like is an understatement," he said, taking his toy to his bathroom to rinse it out. "Your house is coming together nicely," you called to him from his bedroom as your eyes glossed over the new additions to his space.

"Thanks. My dad and I had a lot of time to unpack today," Matt called back to you. You sifted through a few vinyls Matt had stored on a shelf beneath his record player. "I didn't know you were a music fan," you told him. "I mean, who doesn't love music?" Matt asked, coming back into the room and studying the way you ran your dainty fingers across his music collection.

"Yeah, but you listen to really good music," you replied, taking a Led Zeppelin album off of the shelf and slipping the record into the player. Traveling Riverside Blues came through clearly on the speaker. "What can I say? I have my dad's taste," he shrugged. You picked up Matt's journal off his desk and started flitting through the pages.

"May I?" You asked, glancing up at him. "I mean, I just came on the phone with you. I don't see why you can't read my journal," Matt chuckled and reached around to rub the back of his neck like he always did when he was nervous.

There was nothing written for the day the two of you had met, but there was an entry written for the day after. "I met my new neighbor yesterday. She's kind of a slut," your jaw dropped as you read the words on the page and peered up to look at Matt.

"Look, I know that wasn't the nicest way to put it," Matt said, walking towards you, prepared to de-escalate your anger. "Don't worry. It turns me on to be called that," your shocked expression turned to a smirk, and you continued reading the next sentence.

"She's really hot, and she seems to know what she wants. I like that about her. She's nothing like May. Who's May?" You wondered, glancing up from the leather book again. "My ex-girlfriend," Matt timidly told you.

"I didn't know you had dated anyone before," you relayed in a surprised tone. "We dated for about three years, but she's the only girlfriend I've ever had," Matt admitted to you. "Three years? Why'd you guys break up?" You wondered aloud.

There was a moment of silence before Matt answered you. "We ended things because I moved away," Matt said with a somber tone in his voice. Your stomach dropped. "So you guys broke up recently," you replied, fiddling with the leather cover. "Yeah, fairly recently," Matt said.

"So, you're not over her yet? I mean, it would be crazy if you were. It was a three-year long relationship that ended recently," You insinuated, trying to hold back the tears that were beginning to form in your eyes.

"I mean, I don't even know what it means to get over someone. I've never had to do it before," Matt said defensively. "Why didn't you tell me about her?" You narrowed your gaze at him.

"It didn't come up, and I was waiting until the right time to tell you," he answered you. "Do you still love her?" You wondered with a hurt look on your face, and Matt stood silently, staring at you for a moment.

You shut off the record player. "It's a simple question, Matthew. Are you still in love with her?" You interrogated him with a bit of anger in your tone now, crossing your arms over your chest.

"We ended things a couple weeks ago. How am I supposed to say no?" Matt asked, raising the volume of voice. "Do you guys still talk?" You wondered, taking a step closer to him.

"She texted me last night and asked me how I liked my new house. I was too high to answer her, but I texted her back this morning," Matt hesitantly admitted, shrugging his shoulder and sticking his hands in his pockets.

You didn't want Matt to see you cry, so you spun around without saying another word, bounded down the stairs, and ran out the front door. You headed for your backyard to be alone and collect your thoughts, climbing up the ladder to your treehouse as hot tears started falling from your eyes.

You knew that Matt and May weren't together anymore, but it was the fact that he still had leftover feelings for a girl he'd probably still be dating if he lived in the same state as her. Not only was he still in love with another girl, but a girl that, in his words, was very different from you.

On top of it all, you had always struggled with jealousy in relationships. Your mind raced through the worst-case scenarios. What would happen if Matt went back to visit May, or what if she traveled here to visit him? You wondered if it would change the way he felt about you.

You were wiping your tears with the back of your hand and sniffling when Matt poked his head up from under the treehouse as he followed you up the ladder. "I didn't mean to make you cry," he timidly said, looking at you with his big, blue eyes. "Did I say the wrong thing?"

You wanted to shout at him and tell him to leave you alone. You wanted to say anything to hurt him to make him feel what you were feeling. You wanted to hide behind your tough facade, secretly afraid to be vulnerable with him, but you couldn't look at him and imagine being mean to him or raising your voice at him.

"I don't want you to be in love with May," you blurted out as you started to sob again. Matt climbed into the shelter with you, his journal in hand, placing it in his lap as he sat beside you, wiping away your tears.

"It's just still fresh. That's all. It was three years, and the reason we broke up was beyond our control, but it doesn't make sense for us to be together, and now that I've met you.." Matt trailed off, rubbing your back.

"Since you met me, what?" You asked softly, lifting your head. "Well, you didn't even finish the journal entry, silly." Matt handed you his leather notebook, and despite your hesitancy to read on and hurt your own feelings worse, you opened it back up to the page you left off on.

"She's nothing like May. The more time I spend around her, the more I realize things I didn't really like about May and my relationship with her. Like how passive she was, how she always kept me guessing about how she felt about me, and the way she never disagreed with anything I said or challenged any of my beliefs," you read aloud.

"Wait, you actually like that I'm disagreeable and direct?" You asked, peering up at him, surprised because those were usually the qualities people criticized you for. "Yeah, those are my favorite things about you. It's refreshing to meet someone like you," Matt told you, looking into your eyes.

"I'm sorry I stormed off," you apologized. "I'm not upset," Matt assured you. "I just wasn't sure whether I was supposed to follow you or not."

You two sat silently for a few moments, just staring into each other's eyes, and the magnetic force between you and Matt pulled you each closer to one another until your lips were locked. The chemistry between you both when you'd kiss was undeniable, and you could each confirm that you felt it through your body language in the way your hands would wander, never being able to pull each other close enough.

"Do you wanna get high and go lay on your floor and Iisten to your records?" You asked him, looking into his blue eyes and caressing his face once you pulled back from the kiss. "Sure, but I'm only taking one hit," Matt looked at you, wide-eyed and smiling.

"That's really all you need," you smiled back at him, reaching for your stash and pulling a pre-rolled joint out of a plastic bag. You lit it up, exhaling smoke and watching it dissipate into the air.

"Do you wanna shotgun kiss again?" You asked Matt. "Shotgun kiss?" He reiterated in a confused tone. "Yeah, it's where I take a hit, and then we kiss, and I blow it into your mouth," you smirked at him. He nodded at you, leaning in as you took a drag, the cherry end of the joint glowing and crackling as you gently pulled from it.

Your lips softly brushed up against Matt's, blowing out the weed smoke as he breathed in and gave him a couple of pecks before pulling away. He exhaled, expelling the wispy, grey smoke from his lungs. "I don't think I'll ever get used to that," Matt laughed in between coughs.

You took a few more hits while you silently stared at the cute boy beside you. You watched as his eyelids grew heavy and the whites of his eyes turned a bit red. "Let's go check out your record collection," you suggested to Matt, nudging him in the arm and putting out the joint.

The two of you descended the ladder as the sun sank lower below the horizon, leaving behind a bright orange sky in its wake. You followed Matt's silhouette out your gate and back over the path that led to his house.

You found yourself lying on Matt's giant rug in the middle of his room while he laid his head next to yours but had his feet pointed in the opposite direction. You both stared up at the ceiling as Riders on the Storm by The Doors came through over the speaker of the record player, sounding textured and crisp.

"Can I stay the night here?" You asked Matt, peering over at him and his glazed over expression. "I don't see why not," Matt shrugged, looking at you wide-eyed. He did want you to stay the night, but he was afraid that you had certain sexual expectations about how the night would go.

"I'm not ready to have sex with you yet," Matt blurted out, searching your expression for a reaction and wondering if he was being too presumptuous by saying that. "That's okay. I understand. Could we maybe do other stuff?" You nibbled on your lip, looking at him hungrily. "I think I'd be okay with that," Matt nervously replied, nodding at you timidly.

The two of you enjoyed your highs a bit longer as The Doors' L.A. Woman album played through its track list until you were both too tired to keep your eyes open. Matt switched off the light, and you, the record player.

The two of you climbed into Matt's bed, stripping down into your underwear, nestling under the covers, and cuddling. Matt couldn't help but to get hard with your half-naked body curled up so closely to his with your nose nuzzled into his neck.

You guys heard Matt's dad pull up in his loud, rust-colored pickup truck, casting shadows across the bedroom as the headlights danced through the window. It's not that Matt wasn't allowed to have girls sleep over, but he certainly didn't think his father would approve of it, so the two of you silently decided to keep your staying the night a secret.

It wasn't long after Matt's dad came in through the door that he trudged up the stairs and made his way into his bathroom, turning on the shower and getting ready for bed. You and Matt laid in the dark, the only bit of light pouring into the room from a nearby street lamp, and you fell asleep shortly after in each other's arms.

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊

A couple hours later, you woke up to some movement in the bed. You figured Matt must have been tossing and turning, trying to get comfortable. You listened a little more closely, and you heard soft noises and labored breathing coming from him.

As your eyes adjusted to the low lighting, you caught a glimpse of desire on his face while he grinded against his pillow, desperate for relief. You watched quietly for a few minutes as he rutted into his blankets and listened as your name faintly fell from his lips. You smirked at how needy he was being.

"Need some help?" Your voice broke through his breathy whimpers. "What?" He asked, immediately stopping and acting like he'd just woken up. "Help me with what? I don't know what you mean."

"Oh, you naughty boy. Are you lying to me right now?" You moved closer to him, speaking in a low whisper while you tenderly grabbed him by his jaw. "Wanna try that again, hmm? You gonna tell me you weren't just humping your pillow?" You asked in a quiet voice.

"I'm sorry, mommy. It's so hard. It hurts," he whined in a bratty tone. You started slowly kissing Matt's neck, and you felt his body tighten against you. "I'm gonna make it feel all better," you moaned against his ear.

"My dad's asleep in the next room," Matt said quietly before letting out a stifled moan. "Makes it more hot that way, doesn't it? When it's a secret? When you have to keep your volume low? When it's risky and you could be caught if you're too loud?" You cooed, gently brushing your fingers over the fabric of his underwear, exciting him even further.

"Mmm. I dont know," he softly purred as you caressed his member. "I'll stop if you want me to. You know, so your dad doesn't hear us," you teased, whispering into his ear and delicately touching your lips to his ear lobe before kissing it. "No. Please. Keep going," he moaned quietly.

You slipped your hand into the waistband of his boxers and started running your fingers along his length while your lips moved back down to his neck. You could feel each of his veins as you lightly grazed him, testing how much teasing he could take.

He kept anticipating you wrapping your fingers around his thickness and sighing every time you didn't. "Why are you teasing so much?" He softly whimpered. You gave him a gentle squeeze, quietly chuckling at his neediness.

Finally, with his cock in your grip, you started to move your hand up and down, stroking his length while soft, delicate whimpers poured from his lips. "How do you like that, baby?" You asked in a voice just barely louder than a whisper.

"I love it, mommy. Please don't stop," he begged in a hushed volume. "Good boy," you cooed back as you started to pick up the pace a bit. "You can't finish until I tell you to," you added at the end.

He let out a long sigh. "But mommy. I'm already so close," he quietly cried. "Then you'd better get ahold of yourself," you responded in a sultry moan. He nodded at you obediently.

You couldn't tell how big he was because it was dark in the room, and you were jerking him off under his blanket, but it felt bigger than average. You noted that your fingers struggled to wrap around his girth, and your strokes felt long as you pumped his length back and forth. You couldn't wait until the day you'd get to see it.

You felt a wet warmth between your legs as you listened to the boy whimper beneath you while you continued sucking on his neck. "Mommy, please," he whispered. "Please, what?" You softly cooed against his hot skin.

"Please let me cum," he said in a strangled moan. "Not yet, baby." You smirked as you brushed your thumb over the tip, spreading around his pre-cum and eliciting more clear liquid from his sensitive slit.

"Mommy," he desperately whined, struggling to keep his volume down. "Sh, sh, sh," you whispered back into his ear while you stroked him mercilessly, admiring his facial expression that was saturated with pleasure in the dim, cool light offered by the street lamp.

His eyebrows were brought together, causing a little wrinkle between them, and his eyes were tightly closed. He caught his lip between his teeth in an attempt to muffle his pleasured sounds, which he did poorly.

You slowed down, taunting him some more. "No more teasing," Matt said in a breathy voice. "Oh. Please, mommy. Mmm. Need to - oh - need to cum so bad," Matt managed to get out in a series of broken moans and stifled whimpers.

You sped the pace back up for him, covering every inch of his cock, sending ripples of satisfaction through his body. "Please," he said once more. "Wait," you told him in a quiet, stern voice. He nodded at you with a submissive expression on his face.

You slowed down again, drawing out the process, really making him beg for it. He huffed in response. "If you wanna get an attitude with me, I'll stop and leave you unfinished," you replied, slowing the pace of your strokes.

"Mommy, please. I'm sorry. I won't get an attitude," he weakly answered, gripping your wrist to keep you from removing your hand from his dick. "Then be a good boy for mommy, okay?" You whispered, taking your free hand and tilting Matt's chin so that he was looking at you. He nodded, releasing his grasp on you.

You pumped back and forth again, fisting his cock while he started writhing under your control. "Good boy. You're doing such a good job," you cooed. Your name passed through his lips a few more times along with a few oohs and aahs.

"Mommy, please," Matt sobbed. You ignored his pleas, continuing your strokes, paying special attention to the head every time you brushed against it.

You felt him twitch against your palm, his dick begging for sweet release. Matt was so close to the edge, graciously trying to hold out just for you, but he wasn't used to waiting to cum or asking for permission to finish, but he was discovering how much he liked it.

He was so grateful when these next words left your mouth because he didn't know how much more he could take.

"You've been such a good boy. Why don't you cum for mommy?" You whispered into his ear before you went back to kissing his neck. "Yes, mommy," he pathetically whined. He'd been waiting.

You saw the muscles in his face tighten in the dim light as his cock pulsated in your hand, blowing his load into your palm. His orgasm lasted several seconds due to how much you'd edged him, and he emitted a few guttural groans before a smile overcame his expression.

"Good boy," you whispered once more, kissing his forehead. He looked up at you breathlessly with his big, blue eyes and a satisfied grin on his face.

You got up and wandered into Matt's bathroom to clean the evidence off your hands, and once you got back into Matt's bed, the two of you wrapped yourselves up in each other.

You drifted back off to sleep, your legs intertwined with his and your head buried into his chest while you listened to the sound of his slowing heartbeat as his vitals returned to normal after his climax. Soon, you and Matt were both soundly asleep again.

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊

You woke up early on Wednesday to the sound of the birds chirping and the morning sun peeking in through Matt's window as it came up over the hills.

You let out a big yawn, and you heard the cute boy beside you begin to stir. His eyes fluttered open, and your image became clearer as he adjusted to the change in lighting.

"Good morning, pretty boy," you said in a soft murmur. "Good morning, baby. You're up early," he mumbled back in his sexy morning voice. "I know. I have to work today," you told him, climbing out of bed and putting back on the clothes you'd wandered out of last night.

Matt reached for you with a pouty look on his face when he realized he wasn't going to get to see you until after your shift. You leaned in and kissed him. "How do you usually get to work?" Matt wondered out loud.

"I usually just walk. It's only a few blocks," you shrugged. "If you get back in this bed and cuddle with me for ten more minutes, I'll take you to work in the truck," Matt smiled up at you. "Deal," you replied, climbing back into bed and wrapping your arms around Matt for a few minutes longer.

"If you want to go run over to your place and get dressed for work, I'll go start up the truck," Matt offered, grinning at you. "That would be really sweet of you," you softly replied. The two of you left Matt's room, tiptoeing down the stairs and trying to stay as quiet as possible to keep from waking Matt's dad and blowing your little secret.

All your efforts were for naught when you and Matt made your way into the kitchen, realizing Matt's dad was already awake. He was sitting at the kitchen table, reading his Bible, and drinking a cup of coffee.

"Oh, good morning. I didn't realize you stayed over last night," his dad said, peering up at you both from the page, his gaze dancing between you and Matt. "Morning, Mr. Sturniolo," you timidly said, avoiding addressing the sleepover.

"Uh, hi Dad," Matt responded, reaching behind his head and rubbing the back of his neck nervously. "I'm gonna take the truck to go drop my friend off at work really quick," Matt said, picking the keys up off the counter.

"Why don't I come with you guys? So I can learn a little more about your friend here?" Matt's dad asked, getting up from his seat at the table and extending his arm for Matt to hand over the keys.

Matt gulped, knowing that on top of figuring out you had stayed the night, now he was also going to know what you did for work. He reluctantly forked over the keys. "I'll meet you guys at the truck in about a half hour," you said, giving Matt a quick, awkward side hug.

You couldn't get out of the situation quickly enough.

The whole time you were showering, changing into clean clothes, and brushing your hair and your teeth, you were dreading how awkward the drive over was going to be. You resented that this was only your second interaction with Matt's dad, who you really wanted to like you and approve of you.

You were afraid it would go how any other relationship you'd had went. Their parents would either outwardly not like you, judging you based on all the most scandalous things about your personality and not bothering to get to know the other aspects of you better.

Or worse, the parents would pretend to like you to your face and then would badmouth you to your partner in private, telling them how much better they could be doing and how bad of an influence you are.

You braced yourself for it all as you sauntered out the door and headed for the orange truck.

"You ready?" Matt asked as he opened the door for you. You nodded and nestled in between the two men as Matt climbed into the truck behind you.

"So, what do you do for work?" Matt's dad asked you, pulling out of the driveway. "I work in retail. It's this way," you said, trying to avoid giving too much detail about your job and pointing in the direction of the road he needed to take.

"What do your parents do for work?" His dad wondered. "My mom is a flight attendant, and my dad was a pilot, but now he works in air traffic," you responded.

"Ah, so they work in similar fields," Matt's dad nodded. "Yeah, they met at work. Fun fact, I was actually conceived on a plane," you told them both. "Shit. Sorry. That was an overshare," you said, putting your palm over your mouth once you realized you'd just sworn in front of Matt's very Christian dad.

He didn't laugh or find your quirkiness charming. Matt looked at you wide-eyed, knowing your humor wasn't going to land well with his father.

You continued giving him directions to your retail job, which wasn't totally a lie, and he cleared his throat and gave Matt a look when the three of you pulled into the parking lot of a sex shop. Matt stepped out of the truck to let you out.

"Well, this has been fun," you said sarcastically, feeling the thick tension in the air as your feet hit the pavement. "Thank you for the ride, Mr. Sturniolo. Matt, I'll call you on my lunch break," you told him, leaning in and giving him a tender peck on the lips.

You could feel how warm and red your face was as you turned around and headed for the front door of your job. Your coworker, Carly was at the register, giving you an inquisitive look and watching the scene play out.

"Did your cute neighbor boy take you to work?" She asked, giving Matt a little subtle wave, and he waved back, giving Carly a shy smile.

"Yeah, and his very Christian father after he caught me sleeping over. Oh, and he didn't know I worked in the adult entertainment industry until about a minute ago," you added, looking at Carly with a deer in headlights look.

"Oh. That sounds like a very awkward morning," she said, trying to contain her laugher. "It's fine. You can laugh. It is comical, really. I just hope he's not in the truck, telling Matt that I'm a harlot and trying to convince him to stop hanging out with me," you expressed to Carly, tears forming in your eyes.

Her face softened, and she took on an expression of pity. "I'm so sorry. Come here. You know, no matter what his dad says about you, I'm sure Matt's still gonna like you," she said, pulling you into a hug and rubbing your back while she comforted you. You wiped a tear out of the corner of your eye before it had a chance to fall. "Thank you for saying that."

Meanwhile, in the rusty-colored Dodge Dakota, your worst fears were unfolding. "Matt, what on earth are you thinking? Running around with a girl like that?" He asked angrily as he pulled out of the parking lot.

"Dad-" Matt started to say, but the older man cut him off. "She works at a place called Temptations. You don't see anything wrong with that? You think God wants you canoodling with a girl like that," he replied, giving Matt a somber look.

"A girl like that? What does that even mean? There's so much more to her than that," Matt defended you, raising his voice a bit. "Son, just be careful. Girls like that are trouble. I don't know if this is some kind of overcorrection because you're upset about May-" Matt's dad started.

"How dare you bring up May?" Matt glared at his father. "I'm just saying, son. You and May made sense together," his dad replied, shrugging. "Actually, dad. We didn't. May and I stayed together for so long because neither one of us wanted to admit we were incompatible," Matt scoffed. "What?" Matt's dad asked, completely taken aback by his kid's comment.

Matt and May's relationship was picture perfect on the outside. They didn't argue, they didn't complain about one another to their friends and families, and everyone envied what they had. Everyone thought they'd be together forever, including the two of them.

"I know this new girl is completely different from May. She's not a Christian. She's loud and domineering. She's aggressive, and she's overbearing. And she's honest. Maybe even too honest. She always says what's on her mind even if other people aren't going to like it. And I don't love her despite those qualities. I love her because of those qualities," Matt huffed, silencing his dad.

The two men sat quietly beside each other in the truck, mulling over what the other had said. Matt's dad was a lot of things, but unsupportive wasn't one of them.

A few more moments passed before his father finally spoke up. "Fine. Invite her over for dinner. I want to get to know the girl you love."

part five here 💖

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starlightxsvt · 5 months ago

Text

Appeal | sibilance. 4

synopsis ➳ ❝he has appealed and now, you have a serious decision to make. ❞

pairing ➳ lawyer fem!reader x rich badboy!wonwoo ft. Jeonghan genre ➳ angst, drama. word count ➳ 5.6k warnings ➳ cursing, slight love triangle, lots of pining, a bit of lying and deceit ig (this is pretty tame overall)

previous chapter

Wonwoo’s grip on your wrist is bruising.

He drags you with him, not stopping despite your complaints and resistance while you clumsily try to keep up, managing your dress with your free hand.

When the door of the private dressing room closes behind you with a loud thud, silence settles and he finally lets go of your hand. You remain pressed against the door, watching him with bated breath.

The man takes a few steps away from you before turning to face you, a somber look on his face.

Then, he is down on his knees.

—

15 MINUTES EARLIER

Jeonghan’s words have stunned you into silence and you are still scrambling for an answer. Moments pass and as words fail to leave your mouth, Wonwoo marches towards the two of you with a determined look and frees your hand from Jeonghan’s.

“We need to talk.” That is all he states before pulling you away and into the corridor, back to where you just fled.

“Wha—” You turn back to look at Jeonghan while trying to free your hand from Wonwoo’s stone grip. Your colleague remains rooted in his spot, looking at you impassively. His gaze is foreign and distant, appearing almost neutral, giving you a hard time decoding his thoughts.

Fuck, what is going on?

This entire night has been a roller coaster, the majority of which has been spent with Wonwoo dragging you behind him whenever and wherever.

“Wonwoo, for fucks sake…I told you—” You hiss, trying to pry his fingers off your wrist with your right hand.

He suddenly stops, prompting you to almost collide with his back.

"___," he inhales shakily, his pupils wide and shining. "I promise I'll let you go. I just need ten minutes of your time. That's the only thing I'll ever ask of you. We can never see each other again after this and I’ll be fine with that…but I need you to wait for me. I need to be on the stage right now. I'll finish as quickly as possible and then, just give me five minutes to talk to you." You see his throat bob as he swallows.

His grip on your hand tightens. "I just need you to hear me out. Once. Please."

Your throat suddenly feels dry, as if the next word you speak will come out as a wheeze. You take a moment, peering into his eyes before swallowing the growing lump in your throat and then nodding. "Okay."

"Thank you." He squeezes your hand, his eyes shining.

From the grand hall room, you hear the emcee call for Wonwoo and the hushed chatters of the room growing louder and louder.

“I'll be back quickly. Just wait for me in the dressing room.”

“Just go.” You tilt your chin, pointing behind him as the emcee calls his name for a second time and he lets go of your hand, jogging towards the ballroom while turning his head back to take glances at you.

From outside the room, in the corridor, where you stand, you watch him walk up to the stage and stand behind the podium. The people in the crowd are going crazy, putting two and two together. Wonwoo appears in front of them for the first time as Jeon Wonwoo, the chairman's only son, not the new shy and nerdy marketing department employee.

Despite it being his acceptance speech, he makes it quick. As soon as he's done, he rushes back down the stage, politely excusing himself from everyone as he hurries out of the room and drags you away from the hundreds of pairs of eyes now eagerly set on him.

Soon, once again, you are inside the dressing room with Wonwoo, hidden from the prying eyes of the world.

—

“Wonwoo…” You gasp, alarmed to see him on his knees.

“Please, just listen to me.”

“Can you get up first—”

“I am sorry!” He cries out, his fingers gripping the expensive fabric of his pants as he gazes up at you. It is weird and unnerving to see Wonwoo, dressed so formally, on his knees begging for your forgiveness.

If his plans were to catch your attention, he has succeeded.

Flabbergasted, you watch him, your body frozen awkwardly as you look into the turbulent storm clouding his eyes.

You have never seen him look so sincere yet so in despair.

“I am sorry for everything.” He sighs, his head hanging low. “I had a plan, I swear. I really wanted to do this right. I brought up the topic of my father trying to get me married only to let you know that I am serious about you. I told him no. I told him I have someone that I love. I understand how you feel about me, I really do. I did not treat you well and you…you deserve so much better but I swear on my dying breath that I will treat you right this time. I only need one last chance.”

You are still rooted in your place, not breaking eye contact with him as the breath you were holding until now finally escapes. Despite the palms of your hands growing cold, the room suddenly feels hot and you want to voice it out but somehow, you lack the strength.

He continues. “I understand that there is someone else who likes you. And I also accept that you might like him back. What I’m asking you to do is consider. Consider me as an option. Don’t kick me out of the equation just yet, please. When you go home tonight, just think about giving me one final chance. You can take your time. I am ready to wait for you for eternity. I mean it, ____.”

As his words come to a halt, thick, heavy silence hangs in the air.

“Will you please stand up now?” You whisper finally.

He does so, slowly and then stands in front of you with his hands clasped in front of him, looking like a guilty criminal waiting for his hearing.

“Can I go home now?” You whisper again, your voice shaky. Right now, you are too frazzled to even think. You need to be as far away from him, from the world as possible.

You don’t miss the disappointment flicker in his eyes but he handles it well. “Of course. Will you allow my driver to drop you home?”

“I want to take a cab.” You reply immediately, your tone final.

Wonwoo nods silently.

You watch him for a moment longer before standing up straight and taking a deep inhale. Then you turn around and twist the door knob open.

“Goodnight. Get home safe.”

You stand in silence for a moment.

“Good night, Wonwoo.” You murmur, not looking back.

—

The steam continues to bloom from the cup of your coffee as you stare at it, your head lost in the clouds.

Last night was hectic.

That was a gross understatement.

So much happened last night that you are still processing the events one by one, dissecting them into little pieces carefully. You caught a cab straight home, took off your dress, and lay in the bathtub for two hours, staring at the ceiling. Never in a million years did you imagine that to be the end of your night but truly, that was how it ended.

Your sleep was poor and now, at 9 in the morning, as you sit by the window of the living room of your apartment, gazing at the city skyline and sipping your coffee, you wait for that moment of clarity to hit you.

It never comes.

Your brain is still a jumbled mess, replaying the same few moments from last night without any thoughtful input.

Jeonghan could not have meant that really, could he? And how much can you trust Wonwoo’s words? How much of a wise decision would it be to go down that path again? Do you truly have it in yourself to go through another heartbreak from him?

You realize how you only keep thinking of Wonwoo and his actions when Jeonghan was the one who dropped the bomb on you last night. Old habits die hard, you suppose.

You cannot let this go on, though. You have to start somewhere and as you empty your cup of coffee, you decide to talk to Jeonghan first.

He texted you last night, asking if you got home safe and you left him on read, not finding the energy within you to reply.

With a soft sigh, you reach for your phone and type out a message to him.

You: Hey. Can we meet up?

His reply comes within two minutes.

Yoon J: Of course. When are you free?

You: In an hour maybe.

—

The slight chill in the breeze is comforting, soothing your heated skin.

You have been walking around the park for the past half an hour, trying to distract yourself from the overflow of thoughts and theories in your mind. After completing four laps around the park, you sit on a bench and catch your breath, observing a father teaching his daughter how to ride a bike. Her squeals of excitement are loud enough to reach your ears and make you smile as momentarily, all the thoughts slip away from your head.

Then, you are snapped back into reality.

“Hey.” Jeonghan smiles, tentatively sitting next to you.

You turn to your left and watch him sit down, maintaining a good distance from you.

“Hi.” You give him a small smile.

“Got home alright?” He asks. His demeanor is calm and friendly as usual, like nothing happened last night and you almost start to think that it was all a dream.

Jeonghan keeps looking at you expectantly, that soft smile always playing on his lips as the gentle spring breeze wooshes by, blowing the flimsy, golden locks of his hair.

“How do you do this?” You whisper, subtly shaking your head in wonder.

“Do what?” he blinks.

You exhale, using a hand to brush back the rebellious strands of your hair. “You…you are always so…easy and friendly and nonchalant… Jeonghan, how do you do it?”

The man stares at you in silence for a few beats. His demeanor shifts like he is shedding a mask, and his expression grows somber.

“I don’t know,” he replies, looking at the ground. “I never take anything too seriously, I suppose. Life is already messy as it is. Why make it worse by stressing over everything?”

You gaze at him briefly before voicing the question softly, “Did you mean what you said last night?”

Another pause. Jeonghan does not break eye contact with you but from the unfocused look in his eyes, you see his mind running.

“Yes or no, Jeonghan.”

“Both.” He mutters. “I…Let me explain.” He exhales loudly and shifts in his position, angling his body so he can look at you better.

“Last night what I said…it was a test. For you and Wonwoo.” He pauses, his eyes flickering around as he searches for the right words. “You see, I saw him following you and I had to pose the ultimatum. I say it was a test for you because if you rejected me immediately, I would know for sure that you had feelings for the kid. Hell, I was even expecting a slap from you. But you didn’t do any of that. You looked like you saw a ghost and I honestly don’t know how to interpret that reaction.” He shakes his head, a small smile growing on his lips.

“As for Wonwoo, he passed the text. With flying colours, I must admit. I wanted him to hear my confession because I needed to see what he would do. If he turned around and left like a pussy, which…I thought he would, then I would have the green light.”

“For what?”

“To pursue you.” Jeonghan doesn’t break eye contact. “I…felt guilty sometimes, you know, wondering if I was coming in between the two of you. You and I both know you have not been able to move on from him completely. I wanted to check if he felt the same way about you and he does. I guess my confessing to you finally triggered him. That was the manliest I ever saw him.”

As the gravity of his words settles on you, you cannot help but scoff. “Am I a joke to you all?”

“What? No! Never! Why would you think that?”

“You told me to go out with you, Jeonghan!”

“Do you think I was lying?” Jeoghan scoots closer to you. Grabbing your upper arms, he forces your body to face his. “Look at me.”

With a grunt of annoyance, you do so.

“I like you, ___. You are smart, kind, funny, beautiful and capable and all good things so it's hard not to fall for you. But I will not force myself in your life when you and Wonwoo are still unfinished. I needed to know where he stood so I did not feel guilty pursuing you seriously. Trust me, if he let you go yesterday, things right now would have been a lot different.”

This is the first time you have seen Jeonghan be so serious.

“You mean a lot to me.” He continues, resting his hand on the top of yours. “As a friend, as a colleague. I did not…I do not want to ruin this friendship by loving you in a way I am not allowed to. I do not want to break my own heart or yours. I’m sorry that I took you by surprise with my confession. And I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

A small sigh parts from your lips as you stare at your shoes. As always, Jeonghan and his way with words.

You peer at his face. “It’s okay. But…I…I don’t know if I can return—”

“I know, I know.” He interrupts you, holding his palms up in surrender. “No need to rub salt on my fresh, gaping wounds. I figured that much after you left me on read yesterday.”

You roll your eyes, unable to hold back a small, throaty chuckle.

“How dare you laugh at my misery?” Jeonghan cries out dramatically, making you laugh harder. Soon you are both laughing and you feel the tension surrounding you dissipate into nothingness. When you two have composed yourself, he questions, “So, what did he say after he dragged you away like a knight in shining armour?”

You fall silent, thinking about the words Wonwoo shared last night. Your colleague leans closer and closer to your face, his eyes shining with childlike curiosity.

“Ugh— move away!” You shove him backwards playfully.

“Don’t tell me he cried!”

“No!”

He didn’t cry but he got on his knees and begged for a second chance. But you decide not to share that and tarnish Wonwoo’s image. Jeonghan would never let him go and you need to keep the new CEO’s image intact.

“He…said he was sorry for everything and asked for another chance. But he didn’t force anything on me. He…he asked me to consider him as an option, that’s all. He said he would wait for me no matter how long I may need.”

Jeonghan’s eyes widen and his lips part in surprise. “Did he really say that? Wow, the kid finally grew up, no? How noble of him!”

“Stop being sarcastic.” You shove his arm, narrowing your eyes at him.

Jeonghan chuckles. “No, seriously. He has changed a lot from the first time I saw him.”

You ponder the words.

“He has indeed.” You find yourself murmuring.

“So,” Jeonghan clasps his hands together. “What have you decided?’’

“I haven’t decided anything. Not yet. I need time to think.”

“I understand.” Jeonghan nods. “Just a tip. Even if you decide to give him another chance, don’t let him know right away. Make him suffer a little.” He grins conspicuously making you shake your head with a smile.

After a moment’s pause, you look at him. “Jeonghan?”

“Hm?”

“Are we okay? Truly?”

“All good, I promise.” He gives you a soft smile.

You smile back. “Glad to hear it because we need to work together and wrap up Mr. Kim’s case this week.”

“Ugh,” he groans, putting his hands on his head. “You only think about work, don’t you?”

—

Early morning on Monday you visit Jeon Industries to submit a few documents. With your task completed, you stand in front of the elevator, waiting for it to come up when you get a text from Chairman Jeon’s secretary.

Secretary Yu: Chairman wants to see you. When can you come by?

You: I’m in the building. I’ll be there in five.

The chairman’s office is quite barren, the walls devoid of the certificates and images that used to occupy a vast expanse of the space. As you take a seat on the couch and an assistant serves tea, you take a look around and notice cardboard boxes piled up in a corner. The top box is agape, giving you a peek into the contents inside— books and crests and other such things.

“Feels empty, no?” The chairman asks as he takes a seat. “I have been in this office since my twenties. It sometimes feels unreal, you know.”

You nod and watch him take a sip from the steaming cup.

“Will your son be using this office?” You ponder out loud.

“No, actually.” He sets the cup down. “He will use the one down the hall. So this one will remain empty for now I suppose.” He sighs, almost wistful.

You hum your acknowledgement and busy yourself with the tea, wondering why you have been summoned. He never asked you or anyone, from your knowledge, to visit him for tea and an idle chat.

“I wanted to talk to you about something.” He states, looking directly at you. You set down your teacup and sit straighter, clasping your hands over your knees.

“You see, my son apparently has someone he likes. He refused the match I set up for him because of her. Do you have any idea who it might be?”

Oh boy. Is this a trick question? Could it be possible that someone found out about your affair and let him know? Nothing gets past Secretary Yu so you won’t be even surprised.

With your index finger, you push your glasses over your nose bridge. “Uhm, no sir. I…don’t know anything.” You speak, putting on your best poker face.

The chairman nods. “I understand it’s weird to ask you but you know my son. He would never tell me and you have been pretty close with him. You’re the only one in the company he listens to.”

Not finding anything other than lies to say, you just nod.

“I need to know about the girl.” He continues, almost as if he’s talking to himself as he takes another sip of his tea. “If she feels the same way about him then I need to meet up with her, talk about their future. Otherwise, my son needs to marry an advantageous match. He will start his job as the CEO next week and the quicker he marries the better.”

“I understand, sir.” You reply like a parrot. Beads of sweat gather on your neck and you cannot wait to get out of this room.

Chairman Jeon sets his cup down and then looks at you. “Anyway, I was wondering if you knew anything about it. No problem if you don’t. You have been a great asset to this company. You handled all my son’s troubles very smoothly so thank you.”

“I was just doing my job, sir.”

“You sure are very good at it.” He grins. “After Mr. Kim’s case is over, take a break. It has been long overdue for you. Now that Wonwoo will take over this company, you need to be by his side. He still has a lot to learn and knowing my son, he will get in trouble and the person I trust most to get him out is you.”

You nod with a polite smile. “Thank you, sir.”

He nods. “Take a month off. I will see you again after your break.”

—

The cool afternoon air flows by, ruffling your hair and messing up the strands. You stand with your arms crossed, gazing at the view from the rooftop of your office building. The meeting with the chairman sure left you jittery, adding another worry to your already preoccupied mind. It sure does not help that you lied to him. What if he knew everything and was just testing you?

Shit. Let’s not think that.

“Look who I found skipping work.” Jeonghan’s teasing voice makes you turn around. “Whatcha doing here?” He asks, strolling towards you with his hands in his pockets.

“I could ask you the same.” You cock an eyebrow at him.

“I had the urge to smoke. Thought I should get some fresh air to distract myself.”

“Mhmm.” You hum, looking back at the view.

From this high up, all the buildings, even the skyscrapers appear weirdly small and unintimidating. The roads and the vehicles all appear cartoonishly minuscule and you feel like you can watch them for hours without getting bored. It is a monotonous job, standing here and watching the city breathe but it brings peace to your mind, as you zone out and the raging thoughts in your head calm down.

Jeonghan rests an arm on the railing and peeks at your face. “Looks like you are procrastinating, Lawyer ___.”

“I just have a lot on my mind.”

“Well, you can think about them after we are done with this case. We cannot be distracted now, at the very end.”

“I know.” You murmur distractedly.

“Come on,” Jeonghan pats your shoulder. “Let’s get back to work. We have so much to get through.”

“Jeonghan?”

The man is about to walk towards the stairs when your voice stops him. “Hm?” He turns around.

“Do you think he and I are a good match?”

Jeonghan silently observes you for a moment, his lips set in a straight line. “You and Wonwoo? Yeah, why not? I would say you are too good for him but he is not all that bad, I guess. Not these days at least.” Your reply is a hum but you don’t find yourself fully convinced. After seeing the chairman today, you realized you have much more to consider. It is not about you just accepting Wonwoo. The chairman has to accept you.

Will he do that? Can he do that? Knowing Wonwoo rejected a better, more advantageous match because of you?

“Where is this coming from? Are you seriously doubting yourself?” Jeonghan frowns, stepping closer to you to get a better look at your face.

You shake your head and force a smile, shrugging off the heavy thoughts. “You know me. Just overthinking. Come on. Let’s get going.”

You walk past him but he calls your name, making you crane your head back.

“The kid told you to consider him, right? I will add something to that. If you decide to reject him, do so because your heart wants that, not because of anything else. Not because of what others may think and definitely not because you think you are not good enough for him. Because that is not true and you know it. We all do.”

A soft, grateful smile kisses your lips. “Thank you, Jeonghan.”

The man returns your smile, walking alongside you. “Now let’s get to work, shall we?”

—

Thursday evening starts with the never ending shots of soju while you all wait for the food to arrive. It is Mr. Pi’s treat, celebrating you and Jeonghan as you have successfully wrapped up Mr. Kim’s case, earning a good reputation not just for yourselves but for the company. So of course, he is ecstatic to have a team dinner with everyone, more so than ever before.

He claps his hands loudly, demanding everyone’s attention. “Listen up! I want every one of you to get home wasted, you hear me? No one goes home sober!” He grins and then dramatically, pulls out a credit card from his breast pocket. “Guess whose card this is? Our chairman…well ex-chairman’s son, our dearest new CEO Jeon Wonwoo’s! He gave it to me, asking me to take you all to a nice dinner. So, bottoms up!”

Your boss’s revelation comes to you as a surprise. Pouring yourself a shot, you quickly gulp it down as your mind starts sprinting. Why is Wonwoo treating your team to a meal? Is it to create a better impression on the legal partner after his colourful past?

Jeonghan leans closer to you suddenly, speaking in your ear so that you can hear him over the noise and the chatter. “How benevolent of your lover!”

You roll your eyes. “God, please stop.”

He smirks, taking a shot of soju. “I will bet my right kidney, an arm, a leg, and my entire bank balance that he did it for you.”

“What?’’ You are genuinely confused.

“Oh please.” It is his turn to roll his eyes. “He knows how hard you have been working and what other way to treat you than under the guise of a company dinner? He knows he cannot just ask you out for dinner so he does this. Quite nice of him. We all get a free meal. You bet I’m gonna drain that kid’s card tonight.” Jeonghan chuckles, his nose crinkling and he almost looks like a cartoon villain. He stands up and yells out more orders for side dishes as cheers erupt around the table.

You flinch because of the noise, finishing your shot and then excusing yourself to the bathroom.

When you step out, you see that one of your colleagues, notorious for his terrible singing voice is belting out drunk tunes and the food is yet to be served. So, you sneakily avoid your table and step outside for some fresh air.

Not even a minute in your solitude you are interrupted by your boss.

“What are you doing here? You’re one of the stars of our show! You should be back there.”

You offer him a polite smile. “I am just tired. You know how hectic this week has been.”

“I would say you had a very hectic year.” Mr. Pi nods. “When are you going on your break?”

“It has officially started.” You grin at him. “Don’t expect to see me in the office for the next two weeks.”

“What? Only two weeks?”

You kick the pebbles on the ground, shifting from one foot to another.

“You know me, Mr. Pi. Work is my life. What will I do with a month's break? I will go crazy. At least with work…I am busy…” You trail off, your thoughts trailing back to Wonwoo.

Mr. Pi is quiet for a few long moments.

“He mentioned you.” He states, looking up at the night sky. At first, you are confused about who he is referring to.

“When he gave me this card, he told me to take you all out to dinner and then specifically mentioned you, asking me to check up on you and make sure you eat well and get home safe.”

Your throat closes up for some reason. It is the drinks, you convince yourself.

“He is a really nice guy, you know.” Your boss continues. “I have been working with Chairman Jeon for almost twelve years now. I have known Wonwoo since his teenage days. He was a troublesome kid, for sure but he was lonely. Very lonely. His father did not understand that, he never even acknowledged it. He was very close to his mother, you know. Her death hit him very hard and things went downhill from then. He needed his father to be there for him but he never was and they grew apart. And so, he became how you saw him. A troublemaker, a spoiled brat.”

You find yourself unable to utter a word. Staring hard at the ground and not blinking, you simply nod.

You don’t want your tears to come out, especially when you have no idea why you want to cry.

Mr. Pi softly pats your back. “Don’t stay out here for too long, hmm?” You stiffly nod once more and he leaves, stepping back into the restaurant.

You stand outside for five more minutes, fighting the tears.

—

Jeonghan rests his head on the window of the cab, his eyes closed, his body softly jerking now and then due to the car’s movement.

He continues humming a tune as you sit next to him and gaze at the city view passing by. The moon is bright and shining today, making the city appear almost ethereal. You briefly wonder if it's just your drunk brain casting a misty glow on everything.

It cannot be. You drank barely a bottle. For whatever reason, you did not feel like getting wasted. Maybe because you don’t trust yourself enough. Who knows what you might have done after getting wasted. Would you have shown up at Wonwoo’s house?

Gosh, just the thought makes you cringe and you shake your head, pushing that image away.

Jeonghan shifts beside you, sitting up straight.

“You okay?”

He nods. “I hold my liquor pretty well.”

“Mhmm, sure.” You smirk.

“Seriously. I am not drunk. My head just feels heavy. I need to sleep.” He yawns and then rubs his temples. “Thank god for the weekend.”

You hum in reply.

“Any plans for your vacation?” He asks.

“Not yet.” You reply. Maybe you will go see your parents. Stay over there for a week perhaps.

Silence cocoons inside the cab once again. You think Jeonghan has fallen asleep but looking beside, you find him staring out the window, appearing lost in his thoughts.

“I have to tell you something.” He murmurs, not looking at you.

“God, Jeonghan, I swear—”

“No, listen to me. It’s serious.” He turns to face you, his expression sincere. “I lied to you.”

You straighten your back, looking at him with a frown.

“Remember the first time you asked me to get coffee for you? Remember how I got it just right? It’s not because you and my sister share the same taste. It was because of Wonwoo.”

“Wait, what? What do you mean?”

“He was there when I was placing our orders. He came and selected yours and then told me not to tell you. I…I didn’t tell you not because of that but because, back then, I thought I could use that to make you like me.”

You are stunned into silence.

Jeonghan looks down guiltily. “Also remember the heat pack and the pain relief patches I gave you when we had just started working on Mr. Kim’s case? They were from him too. I saw him at the coffee shop in front of our office almost every day. He used to wait there from 7 am to get a glimpse of you. He would ask me about you every day.”

Unsurprisingly, you are speechless.

You stare at your lap, fidgeting with your fingernails. You feel a lump forming on your throat and you have to swallow multiple times to clear your voice. “I see.” You whisper.

“Some time back then I realized he was serious about you. He regretted treating you that way.” Jeonghan sighs. “I can’t believe I am saying this but he is a decent guy.”

Silently, you stare at your lap, taking time to carefully observe the muted blue and grey pattern on your skirt.

“I am sorry. Are you mad at me?” Jeonghan questions softly.

Releasing a gentle sigh, you meet his eyes. “Not really. Thank you for telling me all of that.”

He keeps looking at you impassively, almost like he cannot believe that you are not mad.

“I mean it, Jeonghan. Thank you.” You pause for a beat. “Now I can make my decision.”

Recognition dawns on his face as he nods and leans back on his seat, resting his head on the headrest. He smiles, closing his eyes, “Glad to hear it.”

The rest of the drive goes by in silence before you reach Jeonghan’s apartment complex.

“Are you sure you will be alright?” You ask, watching him unbuckle his seatbelt clumsily. “Should I walk you to your door?”

“How noble of you,” he grumbles, finally prying it off and opening the door. With wobbly feet, he steps out. “Get home safe and enjoy your vacation. I will text you tomorrow if I don’t die.” He does a two finger salute and turns around, waving his hand in dismissal. “Night.”

“Goodnight.” You yell back, watching him enter his building as the car starts moving again.

“Sir,” You refer to the old man driving the cab. “Can you take me to this place instead?”

—

Fifteen minutes later, you are at your destination.

The streets and the houses are familiar, echoing haunted memories that you have tried very hard to forget.

You stand in front of his house, under the warm yellow porch light, hesitating to ring the bell.

The streets are empty and quiet, not a soul in sight and you know that if someone saw you lurking out here for too long, they might call the police thinking you are a thief.

Exhaling a loud, shaky breath, you press the calling bell.

Fuck it.

A second ticks by, then another and then another. You start to think that he may not be at home. You count each second that goes by and exactly forty seconds later, the door opens.

Wonwoo, dressed in pajamas with a towel hanging around his neck stands on the other side in silence. His eyes scan you from top to bottom, twice, widening with every breath. A drop of water trickles down his forehead from his damp hair and his lips part, but no words come out. He continues staring at you in absolute bewilderment.

“Hi.” You whisper.

series masterlist

A/N: Sorry for the delay in the update guys, but I hope this was a fun read for y'all! Gear up for a lot of romance and fluff for the next part because it will be the final part. Hopefully, it’ll be out within this month. Until then, toodles! <33 (also, drop by my ask box and let me know your thoughts!)

#seventeen imagines #seventeen smut #wonwoo imagines #wonwoo smut #seventeen scenarios #seventeen #seventeen angst #seventeen fluff #svt imagines #svt fanfic #svt smut #wonwoo fanfic #wonwoo #wonwoo scenarios #jeon wonwoo #kpop imagines

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tacoguacamole · 1 month ago

Text

ANOTHER TIME | JJK - 5

Summary: All you wanted was time. Time to love your husband. Time to feel him love you back. To see his smile again, not shadowed by grief and resentment. Time to share laughter instead of silence, warmth instead of distance. To feel his arms around you, not the cold of where he used to be. Time to hear “I love you too” before it’s too late. Time should’ve been simple.

But somehow, it always slips through your fingers just when you need it most.

[Pairing: Creative Director!Jungkook x Ceo!Female Reader]

[Theme: Marriage AU. BF2L2S]

[Warnings: Major Angst, Multiple Flashbacks and Time Jumps, Mature Theme, Smut, Mature/Explicit Language, A lot of fluff, Romance, Slowburn]

[Older JK, Older OC, Older Bangtan, Lawyer Seokjin and Namjoon, Doctor Yoongi, Event Planner Hobi, Solo idol Jimin, Secretary Taehyung, Brief cameos of Seventeen Mingyu, GOT7 Mark, Kook's a jerk and mean for the earlier chapters]

[Status: Ongoing]

[Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. Part 5. Chapter Word Count: 7k+]

[Chapter Summary: It wasn’t supposed to be like this - shared meals, quiet glances, the ache of almost-touch in a house that used to remember you both. The rules you wrote start to bend under the weight of old habits and newer silences, and even as everything around you spins — the deadlines, the breaking point — he’s there, steady, showing up in ways that feel too easy to fall back into.]

[MINORS DNI! 18+]

The air between you settles like a held breath — the kind of quiet that doesn’t rush to be filled. Somewhere nearby, a bird rustles in the hedges, then flits away.

You nod toward the basket by your side, trying to ignore the flutter in your chest. “You planning on trading pastries for labor?”

Jeongguk takes a step closer, a small smile forming. “Thought it was a fair trade.”

Without asking, he crouches beside you, setting the paper bag gently on the table nearby. His jeans brush the hem of your skirt as he reaches into the basket, picking up the stray sprigs you hadn’t noticed. His movements are quiet, almost careful — like he’s not sure where he fits, but wants to try anyway.

You glance sideways, brow lifting. “The weekends are yours.”

He shrugs, fingers brushing dirt from a stem. “Didn’t feel like staying in.”

You don’t ask why. The reasons are too quiet to name. Instead, you reach for the rosemary. “Well. If you’re here, might as well put you to work.”

He chuckles softly, the sound gentle in the quiet garden. “Bossy.”

“Efficient.”

You move together — your hands leading, his following with that calm focus he’s always had, even if his fingers fumble sometimes. Not because he doesn’t know what he’s doing. But because he’s not always looking at the plants.

You feel it. The way his attention shifts. Pauses.

“Don’t mangle the sage,” you murmur, nudging his elbow. “She’s sensitive.”

“Sounds familiar.” He’s already looking at you, smile tugging at the edge of his mouth.

You look away quick, as if that was going to do anything with your abnormally beating heart.

A soft breeze passes, tugging at your shirt. Pulls a few strands of hair loose. You’re about to say something — maybe thank him, maybe point out a spot he missed — when your sight shifts slightly. Not dizzy. Not anything big. Just… a little off.

Jeongguk’s hand is at your arm instantly, firm but gentle. “You okay?”

You blink once, shake your head like you can brush it off. “Yeah. Just—stood up too fast.”

His eyes search yours. “You’re flushed.”

“It’s warm.”

“It’s not that warm.”

You force a small smile. “I’m fine, Gguk.”

He doesn’t believe it — not fully — but he lets it go, for now. His hand lingers at your elbow for a moment longer before he leans back slightly, giving you space.

“So,” you say, nudging the paper bag on the table. “These croffles any good?”

He breathes out, a quiet laugh hidden in the sigh. “For dessert? Absolutely.”

Inside, the change is soft — no hurry, no words needed. The garden fades away as the house wraps around you both again, like it’s trying to remember how things used to be.

The kitchen is filled with warm, golden light from the late afternoon. It slides over the counters, making the marble look soft and pale. You put the basket of herbs by the sink, your fingertips lightly touching the edge before you return to the doorway.

Jeongguk is already in motion — his sleeves rolled up, his shoulders loose. As if no time has passed. As if his hands still know the drawers, the rhythm, the quiet feel of your mother’s kitchen. The soft scrape of the cutting board, the tap of a pan on the stove, the faint sound of water running.

You lean against the frame, arms loose over your chest, just watching.

From the fridge, he pulls out eggs, leftover rice, a few vegetables. The herbs you just picked sit by the sink, waiting. It’s simple. But the way he moves — calm, confident, slow — makes your chest feel heavy.

Once, you would’ve sat on the counter beside him, bare feet swinging, teasing him between mouthfuls of half-cooked vegetables. You’d remember Christmas years ago here at your mother's house, sunlight pouring into the kitchen as you both laughed over spilled flour and tea. Then you would’ve poked at the pan, earned a warning glare before he pulled you close anyway.

Now, you stay back — not quite distant, just unsure.

Jeongguk glances at you over his shoulder, a strand of hair slipping across his forehead. “You’re quiet.”

You blink, caught. A small smile tugs at your lips. “I’m letting you concentrate.”

He huffs, low and amused. “Right. That’s new.”

You wander in, fingers brushing the back of a chair, and sink into your seat by the counter. Jeongguk doesn’t say anything — just keeps moving with quiet efficiency. A dash of soy sauce. The soft flick of his wrist. A sprinkle of herbs across the pan.

The rhythm calms something in the room — softens the tension and fills the stillness.

“So…” you start, lightly, “should I be worried you’re trying to impress me?”

His lips twitch, almost like a smile. “Would it work if I was?”

You smooth a wrinkle in the tablecloth, avoid his gaze. But the warmth’s already creeping into your face.

By the time the food is plated — warm rice, a golden omelet draped gently on top, herbs scattered like a finishing touch — something has shifted. Loosened.

Jeongguk slides a bowl in front of you. When your fingers brush, neither of you pulls away too quickly.

The first few bites are silent, filled only with the soft clink of chopsticks and the sound of the stove ticking as it cools. You glance up once — then again — catching him mid-look, or maybe just as he’s turning away.

“It’s good,” you murmur. “You haven’t forgotten.”

He leans back, eyes lingering on you. “Did you think I would?”

You twirl your chopsticks between your fingers, lost in thought. “People forget things when they stop doing them.” A small shrug. “When they stop being close.”

The fridge hums softly behind you. Somewhere in the distance, children’s laughter rings out, then fades.

Jeongguk’s voice is quieter when it comes. “I didn’t forget.”

There’s a softness and steadiness in his eyes. A spark of something familiar too – something you remember from before all the pain, the lies, before things changed. It’s something you’ve missed. Something you’d never say out loud anymore. The small tears of happiness you quickly brush away say it for you.

He notices. Doesn’t mention it.

And you don’t explain.

Instead, the conversation shifts — toward safer things, gentler ones. You tell him about the vendor in Paris who won’t answer emails, the two-shades-too-dark fabric that threw off an entire board. You mimic your assistant’s panicked voice notes, and Jeongguk chuckles, low and real, one that wrinkles his nose and makes his eyes squint.

The dishes are done, counters wiped clean. The clock ticks somewhere behind you, the kitchen dimming into quiet, late afternoon slowly dipping into evening. There’s no hurry to end it — not really.

It’s Jeongguk who glances first toward the living room, hands stuffed into his pockets like he’s not sure if he should ask but does anyway.

“Want to… put something on?”

You pause — not because you don’t want to, but because you do. And that terrifies you because you know it’s just a piece of paper making you see things, feel things from him. Or is it? You’re not sure anymore.

Still, you nod, brushing a damp curl from your cheek.

The couch sinks gently as you both settle in, the TV flickering on with its familiar glow. Jeongguk lets you choose — or maybe he already guessed — because when the Avengers theme plays, he lets out a quiet, surprised laugh.

“Seriously?” he groans, grinning as he sinks into the cushions. “Out of all the movies out there?”

“You love it,” you shoot back, pulling the blanket over your lap.

He huffs. “Do not. Only watching this under protest.”

“Uh-huh,” you say with a grin, snuggling down. “Tell that to your collectible shelf.”

Jeongguk doesn’t argue—just laughs quietly and nudges your knee. He disappears shortly, then comes back with a paper bag. “Almost forgot dessert,” he pulls out two warm, golden croffles dusted with sugar. Hands you one, pride barely hidden. “Got these all the way from across the city, you know.”

You take a bite, lips curving around a soft hum of approval. “Still warm.”

“Told you,” he mumbles through his own mouthful. “Best croffles ever.”

As the movie plays, the room feels softer. You both share quiet comments, half-whispers that barely rise above the sound. A few gentle jokes. A shared laugh when the Hulk breaks through a wall. And when Tony says his last lines, the weight in the room shifts.

Jeongguk fidgets. There’s a quiet sniff. Rubs his eyes like it’s nothing.

You look at him, a small smile on your lips.

“Don’t,” he warns, eyes on the screen. “It’s the… onions. From dinner.”

“Oh yeah?” you whisper. “The ones you chopped, like, three hours ago?”

He groans, dragging a throw pillow over his face. “Fine. It’s the weather. Very dry in here. Terrible humidity.”

“Right,” you grin. “And by ‘weather,’ you mean ‘Tony Stark.’”

His muffled voice replies, “He’s a hero, okay? You just don’t get it.”

But you do.

You remember the action figures lined up like trophies in your college dorm. The Iron Man pajamas he’d throw on when you dragged him out for late-night ramen breaks during finals week. The bright red and gold socks — his lucky charm — that he wore to his first big interview. The extra pair he got for you, still tucked in your drawer somewhere.

But of course, you don’t say any of that. Just smile at this version of him— softer around the edges, still a little boyish in the ways that matter.

The credits roll, silver light flickering over the room, the music fading into the soft quiet of evening. You stretch your toes under the blanket, feeling the stillness settle — warm, easy, familiar.

Jeongguk shifts beside you, his knee brushing yours as he leans forward to reach for the remote. Doesn’t press stop. Just lets the music play out, fingers tapping absently against the edge of the coffee table.

“You should…” You’re not sure what you meant to say. That he should head out? That you should call it a night? That things slip back to the list you’ve created?

You tug the blanket a little higher, as if it could help hide the thoughts burning in your head.

Jeongguk leans back, arm resting behind you, his thumb brushing lightly over the cushion near your shoulder — not quite touching, not quite distant.

“Long day,” he says softly.

You nod, eyes growing heavy, the warmth of the room tugging at your limbs. He doesn’t attempt to head out. You don’t remind him.

Time passes like that — slow, quiet, almost paused. Your head dips slightly toward the couch armrest. His fingers move softly closer to you, just barely touching your hair, as if he’s trying to remember how it feels.

You think you hear him breathe out — not quite a sigh, not quite a laugh, something in between. Or maybe it’s just the house settling around you both.

Neither of you says goodnight. Neither of you say anything else.

And when your eyes finally close, and your head tips just a little closer toward his shoulder, Jeongguk shifts — only slightly — until the space between you is nothing at all.

Sleep still holds your limbs, your cheek warm where it rested on the couch cushion. A quiet stillness hangs in the room — soft light shining through thin curtains, the air filled with the smell of fresh coffee and something lightly sweet, like butter and sugar left on the plates.

You hear him somewhere in the kitchen, the soft creak of a cabinet opening, the clink of a spoon. From where you are, you can see the curve of his back as he leans over the counter, pouring coffee into two mugs.

Padding barefoot toward him, the chill of the floor becomes a quick wake-up call.

Jeongguk notices you before you say anything, his head turning slightly over his shoulder. “Morning.” He sets one of the mugs down for you. It’s the way you like it — just a splash of almond milk, no sugar.

“You cooked again?” The stove looks like it’s just gone out with the light heat fading into the kitchen.

Jeongguk rubs the back of his neck. For a second, you see that boy in the middle of your old apartment, waiting to confess to the love of his life. But then again, you’re too sleepy to know what you’re seeing.

“It’s just eggs. And toast. Nothing fancy.”

You take a bite anyway when he plates it for you, fork scraping gently against the ceramic. The eggs are fluffy, the toast a little too crisp, burnt on the edges, but warm and buttery all the same – just the way you liked it.

The thoughts in your mind grow harder to hold back.

Jeongguk staying the night wasn’t part of the deal. Neither was cooking meals. Neither was this breakfast. Nor choosing to spend the weekend with you when the list clearly says weekends are his—the one sliver of freedom you allowed him, a gesture meant to prove you weren’t trying to keep him. As much as that would’ve been the outcome your heart would gladly accept, you knew the weight of reality. And this… this wasn’t reality.

A small part of you likes it. Hell, you’ve missed this. Him. But it’s terrifying you that things are starting to feel almost easy again, like maybe you could forget everything that’s about to come.

“This isn’t what we agreed on, you know?”

Jeongguk pauses mid-sip of his coffee, lifting a brow like you’ve just accused him of a crime. “What’d I do now?”

You point at the plate in front of you. “This. Breakfast. You cooking for me. You cooking at all. It’s not on the list.”

He sets his mug down, eyes widening with mock offense. “Excuse you, the list literally says breakfast. It doesn’t say how breakfast should appear. Could’ve been cereal. Could’ve been toast shaped like a heart. There weren’t specifics.”

You narrow your eyes. “You know that’s not what I mean.”

Jeongguk raises a brow, grins, crosses his arms over his chest. “Technically, this doesn’t break any rules.”

“No?”

“No.” He reasons out. “We’re having breakfast. Breakfast is on the paper. Nowhere does it say though how breakfast should be presented. Breakfast.”

“You’re so annoying,” you mutter, trying not to smile as you take another bite.

“You’re welcome, by the way,” he says, pushing off the counter to rinse his mug. “Those eggs didn’t scramble themselves.”

“They were too fluffy.”

“Too fluffy?” He turns around, hand dramatically on his chest. “They’re exactly how you’ve had them since Uni.”

Letting it go with a sigh, you nod slowly, give him a soft warning. “Just…don’t make a habit of this.”

“Of cooking?” he teases, tilting his head. “Because I was thinking pancakes next.”

“Gguk.”

He holds up both hands in surrender. “Fine, fine. No habits. No rules broken. Just... eggs.”

Your gaze stays fixed on the plate. It’s just eggs. But you know it’s never just eggs. “You should probably get going. Monday’s not gonna wait.”

Jeongguk pulls off a small smile. “Right. See you later.” Grabs his keys from the counter, tossing them once in his hand like he’s stalling, then heads for the door without another word.

The studio hums like a beehive on the edge of collapse — steam hisses from a press table, fabric whispers beneath hurried fingers, heels tap over taped floors marking invisible runways. The sharp scent of dye and starch clings to the air like nerves. A model adjusts a loose strap in the mirror, her mouth tight, lashes unblinking. A stylist crouches beside a rack of silk gowns, threading a needle with shaking hands.

“Where’s the backup for Look Nine?” someone snaps behind a screen divider.

“We already rotated her out,” someone else replies. “Too pale under the LEDs.”

Mark paces near the mood board, phone pressed hard to his ear. His voice is low but clipped, half in English, half in French, Korean getting mixed up in between too – it makes you laugh for a second. Until one look at the board tells you everything — pinned shots of another line, swatches curled at the edges from overhandling, and a red marker line slashing across today’s schedule like an open wound.

Mark pinches the bridge of his nose, sighs like it hurts. His phone drops from his hand into his pocket, conversation ended. He turns toward the monitors just as you quietly take your place beside him.

“Still surviving, old man?”

“You’re not supposed to be here.”

“You texted me. Said the final look samples came back two inches short.”

Mark drags a hand through his hair. “That was an update, not a plea for help.”

“You sent three angry emojis.”

“Wasn’t supposed to take that as encouragement. I’m telling Yoongi.”

“Like that’s going to stop me.” You’re already taking off your coat, passing it over to your assistant. Another staff hands you a garment bag. Someone else gives you your tablet. There’s no time for hellos, barely enough space to breathe.

He’s already giving in. “You’re staying out of Look Twelve,” he mutters. “Too many pins at the hip.”

You flash a grin over your shoulder. “Noted, partner.”

The day doesn’t get better. As much as you’ve tried working through it, one crisis comes after the other. Someone’s panicking about Look Six — one of the models missed her last fitting and now the bodice won’t zip. There’s talk of skipping it entirely.

You grab a handful of safety pins off a tray, offering it to the nearest stylist without slowing. “Use the veil to hide the back seam.”

At some point, the espresso machine shorts out. Kills the power briefly in the west wing. Night is almost here, everyone’s tired and, coffee is essential to keep the team going. No one has time to fix it, so the assistants take turns running to a nearby café.

The shoot hasn’t even started yet. You stare at the draft board, then the open camera rig — one staff experimenting how to set up angles, another trying to color match without lighting presets. No real-time feedback. No edits. No visual anchors. It’s all guesses and rushed fixes.

“What the fuck are they doing?” You ask Mark who’s already frantically texting. Doesn’t need to look at what you meant. Knows you’re referring to the sorry excuse of a visual team. Unspoken things you’ve both developed working together for years.

“They’re trying to make it work.”

“That’s not their job.”

“It’s got to be. Creative and Visuals just bailed.”

You pull your hair back with one hand. “Unbelievable.”

“Something about their equipment being stuck in cargo. Won’t get here till 9:00 PM, if at all.” He exhales. “They called two hours ago. I didn’t want to say anything till I figured out options.”

You’re on the verge of tears after holding yourself together for most of the day. Exhaustion is taking over your body. The tteokbokki you ate hours ago is long gone, along with the visuals and creative team that’s gone too. Then you feel it — a slow warmth under your nose. You wipe it away without thinking, expecting sweat or your makeup melting from the heat. But it’s red. Wet.

Mark’s voice fades mid-sentence. “—you okay?”

“I’m fine.” You tilt your head back slightly, already reaching into your pocket for tissue. Nothing there.

“Here.” He’s already tearing one from a kit bag. You take it without looking at him. “We could hold off—”

“No. We can’t delay.” You press the tissue harder to your nose and move toward the monitor, resume work like always. “Let’s just shoot raw. We'll clean it in post.”

Mark watches you for long – his stare burning on the corner of your eye. “We don’t have the manpower. Can’t edit this by myself either.” Excuses you’re familiar with, drops in. You know he’s trying to stop the day.

You give him a look — sharp, tired, unwavering.

“Okay boss,” he mutters. “Figuring it out. I’ll try following up with them till then.”

The phone on the table vibrates against the wood. You grab it without looking. “What?”

A pause. Then, warm, low, “Oof, you don’t sound good.”

The chaos blurs, the noise softens, the pain in you eases. The corner of your mouth lifts before you can stop it. “Gguk.”

“Was wondering if we’re still on for dinner?” Jeongguk’s voice lilts with something close to a smile. “Or am I being stood up again?”

Your heart stumbles. Dinner. Right. “Damn it”

“Guess that’s a ‘no,’” he teases softly, his voice calm when yours isn’t. “Getting stood up twice. Karma, huh?”

“No! I—” Your eyes dart to Mark, who’s shoving his phone into his pocket, waving you over. His mouth forms the word ‘cancelled’.

Panic pricks at the back of your neck. “No, Mark, wait—Jeongguk, listen, I can’t—”

“Breathe, it’s okay.”

“The creative team vanished, the camera rig’s being handled by one of our staff who’s supposed to be working on shoes—photographers—they just—” Your fingers squeeze the phone, eyes locked on the cluster of stylists whispering urgently. “Gguk, I’m sorry, but I—Mark! No, not that rack! —I have to go.”

“Hey—”

You end the call, pressing the phone to the table, breath slipping out fast.

Mark approaches you with an "I have an idea," and the next moment you’re pulled back into motion, the room closing in again, the pulse of crisis thumping steady under your skin.

There’s a shift in the air you don’t have the time to dwell into. With the lights being tested even when it should’ve been done hours ago, gowns still being altered because some model got caught on one of the lighting cords, makeup brushes flying across the room, a model sneezing mid-lipstick, someone’s tugging on your arm, asking about earrings. Another assistant waves you over, frantic about the backdrop.

You’re one step closer to ripping your hair out.

Mark’s at your side again, too fast, too smooth. “We’re back on track,” he says, lips twitching like he’s trying not to grin. “Relax.”

You want to ask — how, who, what — but then you hear it.

“Watch the stand,” a voice calls out, deep, commanding. “It’s angled wrong — your entire left frame’s blown out.”

When you look up, Jeongguk is already there. His team already dispersing, taking their places like a familiar routine in your space.

You forget the clipboard in your hands, the half-formed instructions on your tongue. Jeongguk meets your eyes, gives you a small lift of his brows — nothing big, nothing showy. Just a quiet hey.

Mark gives you a look across the room — equal parts guilt and triumph.

Anger should’ve been the right feeling. But instead, peace drapes over you like a heavy, unexpected exhale.

You worked through the rest of the evening, staying away from Jeongguk as much as you could. Letting him focus. Distracting yourself with the sudden change in chaos. Outfits suddenly fitting right, pins no longer needed, a new set of makeup brushes appearing from the luggage — as if the universe had finally decided to give you a moment of calm.

Between tasks, you steal quick glances – when he bends beside the rig, gestures to one of the panels, adjusts the stand himself when no one else moves. He’s changed since this morning — black slacks, a navy shirt rolled at the sleeves, his guest pass clipped on the loop of his belt. Professional. Composed.

Your throat tightens. You don’t remember him looking this sure of himself since his old shoots — back when you were the one in front of the lens and he was still figuring out his light. Practicing, fidgeting with settings he was still learning. Back when you were all the subject he’s focused on.

Jeongguk’s halfway through reviewing a frame with his crew when his eyes track you from across the room, softening, mouth twitching like he wants to say something but won’t in front of everyone. He tips his head once, barely a nod.

You step toward him, heels quiet against the studio floor.

He looks up from the light meter, catches your gaze mid-calculation.

“You shouldn’t be here,” you murmur, just low enough for no one else to hear. “I’m not owing you anything.”

Jeongguk tilts his head, the corner of his mouth tugging up. “Just so you know, I’m getting paid,” he says easily. “Think I’m doing this for free?”

Questions rush through your mind like a landslide, but only a simple, “What?” slips out.

He shrugs, adjusts reflector, keeps his eyes on you. “Seora pays well. I remember this CEO who once made me shoot a full pre-launch campaign in forty-eight hours with a half-dead printer and three cups of instant ramen. But when the rush ended, my team and I got a check—enough to stay jobless for six months.”

You blink. “That was years ago.”

“Yeah,” he says, a little quieter now, a little warmer. “Your first collection after you took over. Half the board didn’t believe in you, the investors were circling, and you had one shot to convince them Seora wasn’t going to sink.”

You don’t say anything. But you remember — the weight of it, the way the silence in those boardrooms used to press against your chest.

“I still have those shots,” he adds. “You didn’t sleep for three days. Made me retouch a belt loop for six hours.”

You huff, almost smiling. “You said the belt loop was crooked.”

“It was,” he says, mock-offended. “But six hours?”

“Buzz off.”

He places a light stand into place; tone breezy but eyes sharp. “Anyway, just because you’re my Mrs. Jeon doesn’t mean I don’t get my cut.”

You roll your eyes. “Don’t call me that.”

“What?” His voice lilts. “Mrs. Jeon? That’s still your legal name, no?”

You glare, still, a small smile breaks out. “Get back to work. Don’t waste my money.”

“Yes ma’am.” Someone calls his name — camera test’s ready. Jeongguk brushes past you with a light touch to your arm. Quick, grounding.

You don’t say anything when he steps away. Just watch the slow but certain way he pulls the chaos back into order — not loud, not commanding, just efficient. People listen when he speaks. They adjust when he gestures. And without meaning to, the tension in your shoulders begins to ease.

And then you find yourself stepping back. Not out of the room, but just far enough to watch. You hover near the monitors, arms crossed loosely, watching as Jeongguk moves through the chaos like he’s done years ago.

Near the backdrop, he crouches low, one hand gently tilting the model’s chin, thumb barely brushing her jaw as he adjusts her toward the light. She lets out a soft laugh — maybe at a quiet joke or just the moment itself — her lashes lowering before she meets his eyes again.

Jeongguk’s mouth curves into a quick, polite and easy smile, before he’s already shifting his focus back to the camera, adjusting the settings with steady hands.

Suddenly, the cuffs of your sleeves look more interesting. Why hadn’t you noticed the ugly button that didn’t compliment the color of the cuffs before? The shoot notes in your hand look like they need revisions again — though you’ve read through them twice and already think they’re perfect.

“Easy there, boss,” Mark sidles up beside you, a knowing hum under his breath. “You’re gonna set the poor girl on fire.”

“Was just watching,” you mutter, heat creeping up your neck.

Mark leans back on his heels, smirking. “Think I should pull her away before you cost us a model.”

“Perfect timing that you’re here,” you narrow your eyes, folding your arms. “Why’d you call him? You don’t exactly seem thrilled about having him near me.”

His grin fades. “Don’t have to like the guy. But when it comes to you, he’s the only one I’m sure would drop everything and show up.”

An argument gets caught in your throat. You want to remind Mark it’s not like that anymore. You know it hasn’t been for years. When it comes to Jeongguk’s planner, it’s like the pen ran out of ink just as your name was about to be written down. You shouldn’t even be on his list of things to do, but that’s the reality that’s been hanging over the last three years. It’s the reality you’ve made now.

Mark shrugs, looking at the busy set. “Sometimes, you have to put personal feelings aside and see that things have changed. You’re running out of options. He knows our work. Has done them before. Jeongguk’s the one guy I, sadly, know who won’t let you down.“

“You seem confident.” The words come out almost like a whisper.

“Takes one to know one.” He turns away before you can answer. You watch him disappear into the set, the weight of his words pressing down on you, making you question what you thought you knew.

Lights dim one by one when the night finally wraps up, casting long shadows across the scattered equipment. You stand near the table piled with untouched snacks, absently twirling the scrunchie on your wrist as you watch Mark wave goodnight, and leave with the last of the crew.

It’s just you now. Or so you think.

“Didn’t peg you for the type to hide by the snack table,” Jeongguk’s there, slinging his jacket over his shoulder, camera bag slung casually over the other. “Usually upfront putting on a whole mukbang show.”

You lean against the table, crossing your arms. “Didn’t feel like the snack choices for today.”

“How about carbonara from Benny’s?”

“They deliver this late?”

“They do if you know the owner,” he says, smug as he sets his bag down. “Should be here in ten.”

You try to hide the way that lands — like a knock you weren’t ready for. “Didn’t think you’d remember Benny’s.”

“Hard to forget when you cried that time they took the truffle fries off the menu.”

You sigh, sinking onto one of the stools. The set is quiet now, shadows stretching where there was once heat and motion. Everything softens around the edges.

“Didn’t eat dinner,” you murmur. “Could eat a whole buffet.”

“Figured,” Jeongguk takes the seat beside you. “Always forget when you’re in charge of too many things.”

The food arrives not long after — warm boxes, the faint scent of cream and parmesan and baked garlic butter curling into the air. You eat beside each other like no time has passed. No tension. No pretense. Just two people winding down after too long a day, like they used to — back when things were simpler, or maybe just when you didn’t know how complicated things would get.

The soft clink of glasses and quiet talks fill the dim hotel lounge. Plush armchairs and velvet sofas gather around small tables, warm amber light casting gentle shadows.

Jeongguk’s call had been brief, almost formal. ‘Prints are ready. Can I give them in person?’

No explanations. No questions. Just followed by another separate voicemail from him with the address of the hotel. You didn’t ask why he had prints made. Understood he’s always been old school, preferred things done the way he started – something tangible, something real, instead of digital things that could be forgotten or ignored.

You just couldn’t grasp why he had to pull you out of a random Wednesday afternoon when you were going to meet for dinner anyway. The time between mornings and evenings, you’ve clearly stated, should be meant for yourselves.

Jeongguk stands as his client finishes speaking. Quick handshakes are exchanged before he settles back into the velvet armchair. A glass of neat whiskey waits on the table. Quietly making your way over, you take a seat across from him.

He offers a small, easy smile and slides the stack of prints across the table. “Thought you might want to see these.”

You pick up the top print, eyes scanning the sharp lines of the model’s posture — poised, confident, every angle meticulously captured. The lighting cuts clean shadows, highlighting the structure of the garment and the texture of the fabric. Another print shows a tight close-up of the intricate embroidery, every stitch crisp against the muted background. A few shots frame the collection as a whole, lined up beneath the glow of the studio lights — structured, clean, cohesive. It looks less like a trial and more like a beginning. Something ready. Something already on its way to Paris.

“Think Mark’s going to want to fly to Paris tomorrow once he sees these.” You say softly. “Thank you Gguk.”

Jeongguk leans back, a quiet satisfaction shining in his eyes. “He’ll want to — and probably sooner than that.”

“You didn’t have to rush it, though. We gave you a few more weeks to work on it. Everything was short notice.”

“Wasn’t doing much else, honestly.”

“The Calvin campaign?”

He shrugs, that familiar confidence settling around him. “Not on my Wednesday agenda.”

“But asking me to meet you this afternoon is?”

The soft click of polished heels breaks the ambient hush of the lounge. Your eyes flicker across the room as a familiar figure approaches — graceful, poised, carrying that quiet warmth that has always set her apart. Her gaze lands on Jeongguk first, fond and steady.

You both rise from your seats in surprise. You’re thankful he’s the first to speak. “Eomma? What are you doing here?”

She waves a hand, brushing off the formality, gestures for you both to sit again, already settling herself across from you with ease. “I stopped by your office to check in. Taehyung said you’d stepped out.” Her eyes shift to you, softening even further. “It’s nice to see you together again, sweetheart.”

Heat rises to your cheeks at the endearment. The way she says it — warm, familiar, unfiltered — stirs something old and tender in you. Still, you gather yourself quickly, wanting to clear things up before any assumptions settle in.

“We were just talking about work, Eomma-nim. That’s all.”

Her smile deepens, and the corners of her eyes crinkle. “That’s lovely to know. You two have always been inseparable — even when it was all about work. Your dynamic… it’s always been something special. I’m glad to see it back.”

You glance at Jeongguk, silently begging him to cut in, to say something that might redirect the course of the conversation. But he’s no help — only a smug little smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Sit together, you two. Why are you across from her?” she says with a light scold, motioning for Jeongguk to move beside you. He follows far too easily, sliding into the seat next to yours with a faint grin still playing on his lips.

You take the opportunity to not-so-gently step on his shoe under the table.

He swallows a grunt, his jaw tightening as he barely holds in a sound, which earns a small snort from you. You hope she missed it.

“Ah, my beautiful children,” she says, clasping her hands together with a content sigh. “It’s been too long. Was it Chuseok when we last saw each other? A year ago?” Her gaze lingers on you, fond and a little wistful.

“Yes, Eomma-nim,” you reply, trying to keep your voice even.

“Where my little Ggukie wasn’t there.” Her eyes soften, not angry, but full of quiet sadness. “This is the perfect timing for you to attend another family celebration, together this time.”

Jeongguk straightens slightly, his brows drawing in. “What’s the occasion?”

She gives him a look — not quite scolding, not quite hurt, just enough disappointment to make him pause. “Jeon Jeongguk, you can’t possibly be that busy to forget your own mother’s birthday.”

He hesitates, fingers brushing the rim of his glass before he suddenly lifts it and knocks back the rest of the whiskey in one clean go — too quick to be casual. “Ah… no, I didn’t forget,” eyes flicker toward you after – the list you wrote lingers between a shared look.

“Thought you were celebrating next weekend?” he tries pointing out as if that was the plan all along. “I was going to drop by then.”

You appreciate his effort but Mrs. Jeon has always been hard to get by. It’s why you struggled with her the most when it came to coming up with excuses for your missing husband, her son, over the past few years. It used to come by easy until you’ve used up every reason in your book.

His mother raises a brow. “No, that’s when your brother’s in Jeju. I told you it’s tonight.”

Jeongguk nods slowly, his jaw tightening just a little. Silence threads between the three of you. You wait for him – no, you expect him – to come up with excuses like he’s always did. Before, he would’ve dodged this easily – out of town trips, client dinners, shoots he couldn’t move. But now, you don’t understand why he’s stumbling, why he’s acting like you have for all these years.

Guilt hits you. You never meant to put him in this spot. You don’t even know why he’s struggling with something that should’ve been easy.

“It won’t run late,” his mother cuts through the silence brightly. “Just a small party with some business partners and family. And your favorite cheesecake you two introduced me to – it’s my favorite now too. Made sure to get it from the same place you did.”

You want to tell Mrs. Jeon that it’s no longer her son’s favorite. She should know that. Your families aren’t being kept from the truth anymore. Her change in behavior digs a deeper grave for confusion.

With hands tied, you nod once, quiet and clear. Jeongguk answers shortly after, low and sure. “We’ll stop by, Eomma.”

Mrs. Jeon clasps her hands together, absolutely delighted. “Ah, that’s all I needed to hear. I’m going to set an extra seat for the two of you – together this time. No last-minute work emergencies, understood? Sweetheart, tell your mother to come as well if she’s not too busy still enjoying her retirement.”

The two of you nod in agreement. Your mother-in-law finally says her goodbye. The moment she’s finally disappeared out of the lounge, you both let out quiet breaths you didn’t know you were holding.

You don’t look at him when you speak. “What does your mother know?”

“She misses you.”

“Not what I asked, Gguk.”

He sighs. “Our parents know what they know. The rest of the family doesn’t. It’s better if you skip tonight. It’s on your list anyway.” The edge in his voice catches you off guard. You can’t pin point what exactly so you push further.

“If that’s the case, why is Eomma acting like everything’s fine? What have you been telling her?”

“Nothing!” Jeongguk’s answer comes to quick, too loud. Earns a few stares from the tables nearby. “She probably thinks if she acts like it, say things out loud, it’ll become true.”

You finally look at him. Tried to search for answers in his eyes, answers you obviously couldn’t get from his mouth. But he avoids you – stares at the empty glass on the table instead. You desperately want to know what he means. Want to know if he’s still talking about his mother.

“Does she know it doesn’t work like that?”

Jeongguk doesn’t answer. Just drifts the conversation. “You don’t have to go. I’ll come up with an excuse. If Eomma gets mad, I’ll take the blow. About time I did.”

You don’t say anything. Just quietly gather the prints from the table, slipping them into your bag. Then a soft ‘bye’ leaves your lips before you walk out of the lounge—carrying more questions your mind can handle.

Jeongguk straightens his cuffs as he stands in front of the mirror, making sure he’s all set as if he hasn’t done that for the past two hours. A dark button-up, slacks pressed clean — simple, neat, just the way his mother likes. He breathes slowly and reaches for the gift on the table, a delicate ribbon tied around the box of hand cream sets she’d mentioned offhandedly weeks ago.

The watch on his wrist tells he’s stalled long enough.

He slips into his shoes and heads out.

The drive to his parents’ house in Hannam passes in a blur — streets familiar, traffic slow and predictable. It’s not like their family home in Busan, but it’s where memories have settled when his family first moved, where holidays are still celebrated, where his mother has redecorated the walls enough times to finally call it their home.

The sky’s turned a dusky gold, the city softening into evening. His parents’ house glow in welcome, lanterns already strung across the backyard, fairy lights peeking through the dining room curtains. He parks, steps out. The front door is already cracked open, the soft sound of music filtering through.

The house buzzes with soft chatter and laughter. A handful of guests are scattered through the living and dining areas — cousins catching up, a few family friends sharing drinks, and business partners politely exchanging small talk.

Jeongguk spots his brother near the bar, already enjoying a glass of whiskey.

“About time you showed up,” his brother calls out with a grin. “Eomma’s birthday party can officially start.”

Jeongguk offers a tired smile. “Sorry. Made it though.”

Their father joins them, hands him a drink, which he downs in one go, hoping to wash down the nerves he knows won’t leave him tonight. “If you plan on driving, go easy.”

“Unless you’re staying over?” his brother chimes in, raising a brow.

“No. Got work tomorrow,” Jeongguk answers simply, even though he’s taken a few days off. Doesn’t say it. Just knows he can’t stay at his parents’ house where too many memories and disappointments weigh on him the moment he’s stepped in.

“Jeongguk,” his mother’s already approaching him, with a radiant and calm smile. “I was starting to think you’d come up with another excuse.”

“Save the scolding for later, Eomma. It’s your birthday—don’t stress.”

“You're the one who gives me stress, Gguk-ah.” She tuts, lightly pinching his cheek before looking around. Her smile falters just a little. “She’s not with you?”

Jeongguk forces a smile, hoping it’s enough to pass. “She’s just running late. Caught up with work.”

She hums. Lets it go to greet a group of business partners, his father following close behind.

“She’s not coming, is she?” His brother pours him another drink, like he already knows the answer.

Is proven right when Jeongguk drowns the drink again, eyes lingering on the front door as if it was going to change anything.

Soft classical music hums from the corner speaker, blending with the quiet clinking of wine glasses and the murmur of conversation. Warm overhead lights cast a glow over the carefully set table — a tasteful spread of small bites, flowers, wine bottles already halfway down.

Jeongguk moves through the crowd slowly, a drink in hand, nodding and smiling as he’s pulled into brief conversations.

A few chuckles. His cousin nudges him, raising a brow. ”You haven’t aged a day, Jeongguk-ah. What’s your secret?”

He shakes his head. “Work keeps me young.”

The dining area had started to fill — his aunts chatting while pouring makgeolli, his uncle already halfway into a debate with his brother about stocks. Plates passed from hand to hand, laughter rolled from room to room

But as Jeongguk nears his seat, his eyes land on the chair next to his, reserved for you. He hovers for a second. Debates whether to pull it out or ignore it altogether. Ends up not touching it.

Instead, he took his own seat, quietly smoothing down the napkin on his lap as the conversations carried on around him. Someone nudged a dish of banchan toward him.

His mother moved through the room with practiced ease, checking that everyone had enough to eat, calling across the table to nieces and nephews she hadn’t seen in months, refilling drinks for guests with a proud, glowing energy only birthdays could bring.

“She really went all out this year,” his brother said under his breath, leaning toward him. “Even got those fancy floating candles again.”

Jeongguk smiled faintly. “She deserves it.”

Someone raised a toast midway through the first round of soup. “To the most youthful and sharpest woman in the room!”

Glasses clinked. Cheers followed.

The evening moves along. Small conversations continue to float between bites of food. Jeongguk tries to stay present. Nods when needed. Answers when spoken to. But his focus keeps slipping. It’s not because of his fifth glass of whiskey. That’s never been a problem. His tolerance is strong.

He just feels drained. Like the night is stretching longer than it should.

Jeongguk knows tonight is about his mother. It’s her special day. He’s missed a few of her birthdays over the years. But he’ll make it up to her – like he always does. Some other time. Some other way.

But he just wants to go home. Sure, that place is quiet too – filled with worst nightmares lately that he has to face – but at least there, he doesn’t have to pretend. Doesn’t have to smile when he’s not sure how.

For now, he just needs to get through the evening without breaking.

Another toast had just ended when the doorbell chimed.

It barely cut through the noise at first — just a polite sound beneath the hum of conversation and clatter of cutlery. Jeongguk’s mother glanced toward the entryway, brows rising. "Ah, that must be another colleague," she’s already making her way toward the door with a practiced hostess smile.

He pays no attention. Just finishes his food. Reaches for his glass. Stops halfway when his mother returns with someone familiar beside her.

The hallway light spills behind you. Simple but elegant. A cream-toned dress that hit just below the knee, delicate at the shoulders, hugging your shape in a way that wasn’t loud—but enough to make the room fall quieter for a second. Hair loosely done, a soft gloss on your lips.

Jeongguk’s grip around his glass tightened before he realized.

His mother beamed, hand gently on your back as she ushered you in. “She made it,” she announced with far too much joy to mask.

Conversations resumed. A few new faces looked toward you with curious smiles, someone whispered your name. You offer a polite bow to the guests, some family members you’ve seen from previous gatherings, your eyes only briefly scanning the room before they stopped on him.

There was the smallest pause.

And then you walked toward a seat – the one beside him.

#jungkook fanfiction #jungkook ff #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #jungkook x yn #bts fanfiction #fanfic #bts jeon jungkook #kim namjoon #kim seokjin #min yoongi #jung hoseok #park jimin #kim taehyung #jeon jungkook

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going-to-ikea-for-the-fries · 1 year ago

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It's a Match! || poly!141 x Reader

[Chapter 19] || [Chapter 21]

Rating: E Pairing: Gaz x Reader x Ghost x Soap || 141 x gn!Reader Words: 2.1K~ cw: SMUT, SMUT, SMUT, protected sex, ejaculation, voyeurism (in person and digital). Summary: While overcoming recent heartbreak, you decide to join Tinder in search of a rebound. Your friends advise to just Swipe Right indiscriminately... What happens when 4 soldiers from the same squad match with you? a/n: he's their (under)boss for a reason.

My dumbass was in such a hurry I forgot to tag my lovely @mothymunson who encouraged me to write this when I was lost where to fit it + gave me extra ideas for the dynamic! 🫶

Chapter 20: Control

It’s been two weeks since that lazy Sunday you spent with Johnny. He had to leave in a hurry, departing on a mission, unable to tell you where he’d be going or when he’d be back…

Simon and Kyle were already on a mission of their own by Sunday so… You’ve spent these last two weeks alone.

It’s been quiet without them… And frankly… a bit lonely.

You used to like having time to yourself after the break-up… But now?

You’ve been with Leah and Mia for dinner a couple times… And although you love your girlfriends, and enjoyed yourself greatly while gossiping with them (and my, my, did you gossip) you find yourself missing Simon, Kyle and Johnny.

It’s 5:30 P.M. on Wednesday and you’re in your kitchen, making something quick for dinner, when there’s a knock on your door.

Eyes squinting in surprise at the lack of expected guests, you immediately think the worst. It’s Ethan. It’s Ethan and he’s pissed that Johnny and Simon fucked him up and he’s here for revenge and you’re alone and-

“Sweetheart, it’s me.” Simon’s voice from the other side of the door relaxes you and you rush across the sitting room and pull open the door.

“Bloody hell, you spooked me!” You say softly as you look up at him. He’s still in full gear and slightly out of breath, as if he ran over to your house the moment he landed on base.

“Hi!” You greet as he pulls off his mask and wraps his arms around you. He steps inside, making you step back with him as he spins you and kisses you, closing the door behind him.

You feel him guide you over to the living room couch and lower you onto it, making you squeal and giggle in surprise. “Simon!” You’re able to murmur as he lowers himself atop of you.

“Missed you… missed you…” He grumbles as he kisses you again, one of his hands on your hip, the other supporting his weight on the throw pillows by your head.

“Missed you too…” You admit, causing him to groan under his breath. His fingers find the straps that hold his vest in place and he quickly undoes them and takes it off, dropping it haphazardly on the floor next to you.

“Simon…” You whisper before he captures your mouth with his again, his tongue finding yours and making you moan. Oh, how you’ve missed him… Your hands trail down his chest and arms, unzipping his fleece jacket and he allows you to take it off him, leaving him in a black t-shirt underneath.

Your hands trail down lower, finding the utility belt at his waist. Your fingers just barely graze the thick, hard bulge in his cargo pants as you try to undo his belt, but one of his hand sharply stops you by gripping your wrist with three fingers.

You pull back from the kiss, the two of you out of breath. Your eyebrows are lowered in concern and your eyes softened. “What?” You asked him softly.

“I’m not-” He trailed off for a moment and huffed before burying his face in your neck. “Not ready for that.” He told you softly. “My body isn’t… I don’t want you to…”

“Oh…” You said, a bit surprised. You had noticed his reaction had been the same he used to have whenever you touched his mask in the past… And if back then you didn’t probe, you certainly wouldn’t now. “Okay.” You told him.

“Can we just…” He trailed off and slowly grabbed your waist with his hand, grinding his crotch lightly against yours. It jostled you a bit and you bit your lip.

“Yeah… we can dry-hump, Simon…” You told him in a reassuring tone, which only made him groan again and hump against you once more.

You wrapped your arms around his shoulder and neck as he fixed his grip on you and rubbed his bulge against your body in the thin lounge pants you had changed into after work.

Just as you’re just starting to kiss again, with Simon murmuring more sweet nothings of how much he missed you, there’s a new knocking on the door. Simon groaned in complaint and buried his face in your neck again.

“Bloody fuckin’ hell… He’s fast.” Simon grumbled and pushed up to his feet, sliding off you and helping you sit up.

“Who…?” You asked, a bit light-headed from the intense make-out session.

“Kyle.” He complained as he fixed his bulge in his pants with his hand, while waddling his way over to the door and throwing it open.

“You sneaky bastard.” Kyle said to Simon and pointed a finger at him while coming into the flat.

“Hi, Kyle…” You said softly, receiving a ‘Hi, lovie’ in response as he took off his shoes.

Kyle’s also out of breath but, unlike Simon, he’s changed clothes. “Guess what, Simon here waited until I got in the shower before he ran off to come see you. Left me stranded back at base!”

You can’t help but giggle as Simon’s scarred mouth morphs into a smug, proud-of-himself smirk. “Oops.” He said.

Kyle gave the two of a you a once over. “Ah… I see. Someone was… eager, huh?” He teases and uses his chin to point at the obvious bulge in Simon’s pants.

The younger man moves over to the couch and stands behind it before kissing you on the lips just as hard as Simon did, taking your breath away and making your shoulders sag as you sigh in delight at the feeling of his warm mouth on yours.

Pulling back, Kyle licks his lips and winks at you. “Good thing I got here when I did, hm?” He teases and looks at Simon before returning his gaze to you. “Now we can really get the party started…” He adds.

“Oh… Oh, fuck…” You whine at the top of your lungs, your eyes rolling back with each thrust inside of you.

Kyle’s lying on the bed under you, his thighs spread as he has you in a full nelson. His hands hold you behind your neck, fingers intertwined, your knees hooked up on his forearms to keep you spread open.

Kyle’s big. Really big. More than you expected. Considering the only points of comparison you’ve got are John and Ethan… It’s not like either of them was exactly small, but Kyle’s constantly bottoming out inside you without having to throw his whole weight into it. He’s also perfect shaved, not an inch of hair on him… anywhere. Other than his face, of course.

Your bodies are slick with sweat and your moans and his grunts and groans echo in the bedroom. You can barely keep your eyes open and if it weren’t the fact Simon in your field of view, you’d have given up altogether.

Simon’s sitting across from you and Kyle, having cleared your clothes’ chair and taken a seat in it, watching you and Kyle with keen eyes… His large, rough hand is wrapped around his own cock, a long one, the tip red and angry. He strokes it slowly, almost lazily, as he watches you get properly fucked by Kyle.

Unlike John (and Johnny, as you found out during your bath), Simon and Kyle are both cut… And Simon has something that you didn’t expect. Piercings. A Jacob’s ladder, you’re pretty sure it’s called. Four barbells stacked on the underside of his shaft, which he only leaves visible for a few seconds every time his fingers uncover it.

Considering Kyle’s stayed quiet about it, you’re pretty sure he hasn’t spotted them, either from having his own eyes closed, or because you’re in the way. Either way, you don’t mind it, at all, that you get the view all to yourself, even for just a second.

The sight of Simon sat there, legs spread, his cock on display, his big hands and strong arms moving slowly as he watches you and Kyle is an amazing one… And hearing Kyle losing his mind behind you, too into the moment to succeed at any amount of dirty talk or at saying anything coherent just makes it better.

“Fuck… Yeah… Fuck… You feel… Bloody fuckin’ ‘ell…” Kyle grunts behind you as he keeps rocking his hips against your ass, making sure to plunge hard and deep inside you, not giving you time to breath before he’s bottoming out again, the pace unforgivingly fast.

You watch closely as Simon stops for a moment and shifts around on the chair he’s sitting on before pulling out his phone. He lets out a chuckle as he looks at the screen, then, he fidgets around with it for a moment, texting someone.

It’s barely a minute later when you hear the signature sound of a FaceTime call blasting from the phone’s speakers. Simon accepts it and aims the back camera at you and Kyle.

“Say hi to Johnny, sweetheart.” Simon demands, his tone surprisingly bossy, as he goes back to stroking his large cock.

“H-Hi, Johnny…!” You whine aloud, just barely able to speak without melting, your mind slowly emptying of all thoughts beside the feeling of Kyle inside you and Simon masturbating across from you.

Your breath is ragged as Kyle speeds up his thrusts even more, his grip on the back of your neck tightening and tensing up, his hips moving so erratically that it makes you squeal louder. “Kyle! OH FUCK!” You whine, eyes rolling back and your face wincing lightly from desperation.

“Slow down, Kyle.” Simon demands. “Slow and deep.” He adds. You hear Kyle grunt and he murmurs something incomprehensible in response as he does what he’s told. His motions slow and become more paced and calm as Kyle himself tenses up underneath you.

You notice how Kyle’s thighs tense up, his veins bulging and throbbing as he controls himself not to squirm, clearly trying his best not to lose it and to obey what Simon says.

“Mmm… that’s it… That’s it…” Simon praises, his eyes going back and forth between the sight of you and Kyle, and Johnny on his phone. “Nice and slow, Kyle…” He continues saying.

Kyle quakes underneath you, his breath getting a bit more ragged and you swear you hear him gulp down as he tries to be good for Simon and for you.

“Johnny’s enjoying it, aren’t you, Johnny?” He speaks to the phone. You can’t hear the reply from the Scot, but considering how Simon’s chuckling, the answer seems to be a yes.

“Simon… Fuck…” Kyle grunts. “This is… t-torture!” He’s able to get out, his thighs twitching and his arms tightening their hold on the back of your legs. “I’m going to- Fuck!” He grunts.

“Go on, pretty boy.” Simon teases. Something about the look in his eye, the little mischievous smirk on his lips… God, for someone who’s afraid of being touched, he sure knows what the fuck he’s doing… It’s almost intoxicating, the way he’s exerting control on everyone in the room and even Johnny over the phone.

You can feel the knot in your stomach tightening more and more as you experience all these feelings at once, your mind steadily clearing of any thoughts other than the prickling of stars in the corner of your eyes and the heat increasing more and more.

“Aaah-” Kyle hisses as he keeps moving slowly and deeply, gritting his teeth behind your back and huffing through his nose with barely restricted euphoria. “Fuck… Fuck…” He grunts.

“F-FUCK!” His voice shouting as he loses his composure and buries himself to the hilt inside you with a sharp motion of his hips… and another… and another… Completely disregarding Simon’s commands to go slow… And it makes your eyes roll as your orgasm hits, causing you to shudder and twitch…

But, instead of moaning his name, you find yourself moaning Simon’s, your head unable to dip back due to Kyle’s grip on it, and forcing you to stare right at Simon as you fall over the edge of your climax.

Behind you, Kyle is losing his own mind, spilling his come in the confines of the condom… And you watch through a lidded, barely-aware gaze, as after a few more strokes, Simon’s cock throbs and twitches… before a few ropes of cum shoot in quick succession all over his lower stomach, which he had the presence of mind to lift his t-shirt out of.

The bedroom falls into complete silence as Kyle pulls out and slowly lets go of you, carefully helping get you out of the strained position that’ll likely leave your legs and joints sore the next few days.

“Good job...” Simon breaks the silence as he tries to catch his breath, his head dipped back against the wall behind him, his eyes lazily trailing the sight of you and Kyle on the bed, and then back to Johnny on the phone.

“Bloody fuckin’ hell…” You can finally hear Johnny speak through the speakers now that the room is silent. “You lot better repeat that when I’m not overseas and can join in…!” He quips, drawing laughter out of all of you.

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taglist (CLOSED! not adding anyone else, sorry!):

@daisychainsinknots , @bunnysdaydreams , @iite-cool , @lahniu , @pagesfalling , @tapioca-milktea1978 , @live-love-be-unique , @thelaisydazy , @littleghosthunter , @bossva , @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago , @chamomiletealeaf , @ghosts-hoe , @kariiiel , @ltbarnes , @irregulardongyoung , @spacelia , @hayleybarnesx , @infpt-zylith , @xxshadowbabexx , @frescoisnotinthemilitary , @leeeenistop , @lucienbarkbark

@severenswife , @enarien, @agoodmoviekiss , @l0lziez , @whos-fran , @greatstormcat , @openup-yourmind , @neoarchipelago , @sodavrr , @cutiecusp , @lilliumrorum , @c-nstantine , @kneelforloki , @comeonatmebruh , @codsunshine , @waiting-so-long , @captainquake42 , @gazspookiebear , @mynameismisty , @reap3erslov3 , @reaper-chan666 , @poohkie90 , @kitwithnokat , @stick-the-dumbass , @mothsdrabbles , @justanerd1 , @thesinsoflust , @thriving-n-jiving , @blckbrrybasket

#ikea writes 💚#it's a match! fic #cod modern warfare #cod fanfic #captain john price #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #text story #cod x reader #call of duty x reader #ghost x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #soap x reader #cod smut

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