#i could probably call it a first chapter of a two chapter fic

[kissingraine]

watch me pull a ‘it's supposed to be a three-part fic but break it down into multiple chapters’ move (i promise ill pull through chat🙏🏻)

mass-shifted mech

Lust for Life — G1 Insecticons x f!Reader (2.1)

• You like to think you’ve gotten a little closer after that. They trusted you enough to reveal what they are—though not exactly what kind. Big metal bugs that can turn into humanoid robots. That name’s gotta be shorter if you intend to officially put them in your journal. Shrapnel’s the easiest to get close to—funny and always dragging you to bug hotspots. Yeah. He goes hunting for the small suckers with you now. Something about EM fields. First time he heard the term, though? He nearly flipped out while repeating the last word in your sentence. And by flipping out, that meant almost zapping you like an eel stunning prey. You’ve made sure to explain exactly what you mean around him since then.

He doesn’t get why you insist on sticking to their de facto leader like a fragging bu—anyways. Kickback’s tried to squeeze the answer out of you, but it’s always the same thing. He’s funnier. Likes when you talk about their carapace under the sun. As if Shrapnel actually gave a scrap about that. But he gets it—he’s the ‘leader,’ and he’s supposed to be the one good at making people spill their secrets. Bombshell’s been spending nights on your couch watching bland organic soap operas—telenovelas—at 3AM. And… having very civilized discourse about which kid is going to get kidnapped next.

“See, right there,” you point, sitting on one edge of the couch while he’s on the other. One side tipping slightly because of how much he literally weighs. Two tons of pure metal. Can’t get any heavier than that. “That little girl is gonna get kidnapped while Daniel and Paulina over there flirt with each other.”

Bombshell vents, mass-shifted and leaning against the armrest, “Quite typical of your species, to be so engrossed with each other that they lose sight of their surroundings.”

“It’s called a fixation. Or, an obsession.” You shrug.

“Primitive.” Then you give Bombshell that look—one eyebrow raised and a half-smile like he amuses you. The way you amuse them. But it isn’t just that—it’s something warmer too. “It’s a very real and horrifying feeling, Shelly.”

Incessant little human. He’s told you many times that a respectable Insecticon of his caliber doesn’t do pet names—but you keep insisting. Because it’s satisfying to talk about something other than their war. Because it’s amusing to see you blabber about weak and useless human connections with him through the night—he lets you keep your head. All for the sake of documenting your habits in order to tempt you better. Shrapnel thinks it’s smarter to know more about you so they can get what they want, even though he could just charm you into it. Knows something is wrong. That you’ve done something to their leader, and he’s dying to find out what.

• Bombshell was different from Shrapnel and Kickback, as you soon found out from the other beetle. “He excels in mental warfare—warfare,” Shrapnel had mentioned in passing one afternoon.

“So, he’s a tactician?” you ask, ducking under a fallen tree log.

“You give him too much credit, squishy,” Kickback chimes in with a twitch of a wing, growling as he taps a clawed servo at your forehead. “He’s just as dangerous as we are, if not far more. Who knows what really goes on in that processor of his.”

• You’ve learned a bit of the grasshopper mech’s habits by now. And that’s the look he makes when he dares you to find out for yourself. Probably a good idea to be cautious around this guy—Insecticon genius, as he so often calls himself while ranting but there’s no denying Bombshell’s interest in telenovela mind games. It’s hard to predict. That’s probably the only reason he even entertains watching with you. It’s become routine. He waits outside, you let him in, and you both watch, then debate. Five minutes later, Eva—Paulina’s stepdaughter, the glue and everyone’s emotional center—gets kidnapped while Ave Maria plays in the background.

Why? How? The number of times he’s lost trying to predict it is taking up all the digits on one servo. And you laugh when the little girl eventually gets kidnapped by her mother’s evil twin sister. Not even because of what’s on TV, but at his reaction. He’s standing in disbelief like the show suddenly deserved a standing ovation for being so predictable.

“See? Told you. Nine years of watching this stuff, you get good at predicting even the wildest plots,” you say, just to rub it in.

Silence.

• He doesn’t answer. Just stares at the screen, then down at his claws. And something subtle, strangely human flashes across his face. Hard to tell with the mask on, but it’s definitely there. Defeat. Quiet devastation, you think. The brilliant manipulator outplayed by a human girl too interested in bugs. Then—he stands abruptly, towering, muttering something about statistical anomalies before sitting back down the same way you do when it’s the weekend. And the couch tilts hard to one side under his weight. You yelp as the momentum drags you across the cushions like a pinball, colliding into his side with a muffled oof.

You’re squished against him, he realizes. Soft and warm, right beside him, and he stiffens. So do you, while the telenovela continues to blare in the background. Neither of you are breathing. Just refusing to look at each other or move. Up close, you smell even sweeter to his olfactory receptors. And Bombshell’s suddenly aware why Kickback has been so insistent on this. It’s his job to get you ready for nesting, but the way you looked at that moment didn’t make him feel like he was doing it out of obligation. And what dignified Insecticon would let an organic be his undoing?

“You’re warm,” he rumbles, unconsciously. Like your warmth had pulled the words from his intake.

• You don’t think Bombshell has noticed the way one of his clawed hands has snaked around your side—slow and tentative, pressing you closer while you have an internal crisis. It’s sorta your fault for thinking you’d be fine, but the heat since the first time they revealed what they were hasn’t faded. Actually, it’s much more visceral now. The kind of visceral that makes you want to sit in his lap and fall asleep against his chest.

“And y-you’re heavy,” you reply, distracting yourself as you try to stand up.

• Except—his servo doesn’t let go. It tightens just slightly, not restraining… but holding. Like letting you go wasn’t yet an option.

“Stay,” Bombshell says, low and deliberate. There’s no command in his voice. Just… want. The screen flickers. Ave Maria ends. You’re not sure if the sudden warmth flooding your face is embarrassment, realization, or something else entirely. Maybe all three.

“I don’t…” you begin, but stop because you do.

He glances at you sideways, optics dimmer than usual. “For data collection,” he adds after a beat.

It’s a lie. A stupid, flimsy one.

But you nod. “Sure,” you whisper, letting your body relax against his.

“For science.”

Previous

also- look who i found at my local department store👀 ladies and gentlemechs i present you to you, Ptimus Orime and Bumble-not-bee😭😭 i didnt get them cuz they looked like bootleg versions lmfaooo and they were pricey for no reason?! idek who's the third one supposed to be.

[freyafrida]

rilla of ingleside, chapter three

this turned out to be a long one bc i can't shut up about these kids lmao

This is probably the chapter I've reread the most! After hearing about the Blythe-Meredith kids from the gossipy ladies in chapter one, and meeting Rilla, Walter, and Miss Oliver in chapter two, the war generation all finally shows up in this chapter, and we get a sense of them from the way they talk and interact on the way to the lighthouse dance. Since it's the only pre-war chapter featuring all the kids, I find myself rereading it a lot for fanfic personality/relationship references, haha.

“The latter had come over from Lowbridge the previous evening and had been prevailed upon to remain for the dance at the Four Winds lighthouse the next night.”

Sometimes I forget that Gertrude is meant to be living in Lowbridge for parts of the book because she's at Ingleside all the time anyway lmao.

“It’s my first really-truly grown-up party, Miss Oliver, and I’ve just lain awake at nights for a week thinking it over. ”

Something about this sentence reads so much like young Anne to me (maybe the phrasing of "really-truly"); despite Anne's concern over Rilla's lack of ambition, Rilla is her mother's daughter in that sense of dreaminess and earnest excitement over things she loves.

Inch restingly, it seems like Rilla turns fifteen between this chapter and the last (last chapter was June, she's turning fifteen next month, it's now August, per the events of the chapter and Walter's description of "How beautiful the old Glen was, in its August ripeness"). I have thoughts about this bc I was wrestling with her birthday in a fic and realized -- the book doesn't recognize her birthday at all, not in the four years it spans. You'd think Rilla would've had a fifteenth birthday party before the war, at least, but it doesn't appear so. I don't think Anne has a proper birthday party ever, either, although she's mentioned to attend one or two over the course of the series.

“Of course Carl and Jerry can’t dance because they’re the minister’s sons, or else I could depend on them to save me from utter disgrace.”

Carl swooping in to save Rilla from utter disgrace!!! LMM why can't you let me have these things 😭 (Also, I realize they must see each other often, given that they're from two close families in a small town, but I have to admit I find it hard to believe that Jerry even knows Rilla exists.)

Disappointingly for the Rilla/Carl agenda, the bit abut Jerry and Carl not being able to dance was not in the original draft, per Readying Rilla -- instead, it says "but they're just like my brothers and I'll feel they're only doing it out of charity." LMM sniping me from beyond the grave 😩 Also curious if LMM like...forgot that minister's children shouldn't dance, or if it was more of an expectation that not everyone followed, and she made the decision to use it as a reason. (The bit about it feeling like charity is applied to Gertrude feeling that way about Jem and Walter dancing with her instead -- also, it's initially written that Jem and Jerry will take her out, but Jerry is crossed out and replaced with Walter, presumably due to the above edit.)

“I tried to draw back—and I saw that the edge of my dress was wet with blood—and I woke—shivering. I don’t like the dream. There was some sinister significance in it. That kind of vivid dream always ‘comes true’ with me.”

@batrachised pointed out that Gertrude's (I'm going to start calling her Gertrude instead of Miss Oliver because otherwise I'm going to keep going back and forth weirdly) dreams were actually based on LMM's, which, fair enough! That very much tracks with how seriously (almost) everyone takes Gertrude's visions. Idk -- I'm struggling to articulate why it comes off as almost laughably melodramatic to me -- because the war and death do come to Ingleside and touch our characters, and the shattering of their idyllic world is devastating to them (as it was to LMM); it's not as though her dream is wrong, necessarily. Maybe it's just the benefit of hindsight -- like Gertrude's going on about waves of blood on their shores and I'm just in the future like, "maybe you should save some of the dramatics because it's going to get so much worse." (Buuut I am also melodramatic and superstitious so maybe I just do not like looking in this mirror 😔)

“I think the party promises to be pleasant for young fry. I expect to be bored. None of those boys will bother dancing with an old maid like me. Jem and Walter will take me out once out of charity. There will be nobody for me even to talk to. So you can’t expect me to look forward to it with your touching young rapture.”

lmao jesus christ Gertrude. It's especially funny that she says this while also saying that she wants Rilla to have the "splendid, happy" girlhood that she didn't. Let her live then!!! (Also funny that Cousin Sophia is being portrayed as doom and gloom when she says stuff like this, while Gertrude is ~alluringly moody~)

And of course, the war is starting to become a concern for everyone except Rilla -- Dr. Blythe, Jem, and Walter are mentioned to be poring over the paper (none of the girls, even with their interests in 'ologies and 'isms, seem to care -- which sadly tracks, see Anne basically refusing to have a political opinion in House of Dreams. Gertrude, in fairness, is following the war news and mentions it to Rilla). It's interesting that part of the honor in fighting, for Jem, is entwined with defending the British Empire, considering it a family that they're a part of. Iiii...haven't developed any deep thoughts on this, lmao, I've always sort of taken it at face value that Jem -- and Ken, later -- feel this way as Anglo Dudes From 1914, particularly as there is a streak of...insularity, perhaps, in the books re: Anglo Canada. (But it is equally interesting that later on, characters express that they're fighting for Canada instead, not Britain.)

Walter's reaction to the war is telling -- he not only hates the idea (also, lol/sigh that they're just too civilized in the modern age of the twentieth century to go to war) but is kind of in denial about it, refusing to think of it and trying to distract himself with beautiful things.

“Mary Vance is a habit of ours—we can’t do without her even when we are furious with her,” Di Blythe had once said.”

I suppose it says a lot about Mary's character and general self-confidence/lack of self-awareness that she hangs out with people who talk about her like this, because I would not, lol.

“Carl Meredith was walking with Miranda Pryor, more to torment Joe Milgrave than for any other reason.”

LMAO what did Joe Milgrave ever do to Carl? I can't quite make out what this says about Carl -- it doesn't really jive with any of his behavior in Rainbow Valley; he doesn't particularly enjoy getting a rise out of people (e.g. in the chapter where he's not whipped, he feels bad over throwing the eel in the buggy; in the rest of the book, he's almost like, blissfully unaware that his various critters freak other people out). I suppose you could read him as being a bit competitive, or simply that he still enjoys mildly teasing people (which makes his friendship with Rilla pretty funny, given that being teased harrows her soul). Of course, worth mentioning that there's also not much evidence that Rilla and Carl are still close at this point :(

“Shirley Blythe was with Una Meredith and both were rather silent because such was their nature. Shirley was a lad of sixteen, sedate, sensible, thoughtful, full of a quiet humour. He was Susan’s “little brown boy” yet, with his brown hair, brown eyes and clear brown skin. He liked to walk with Una Meredith because she never tried to make him talk or badgered him with chatter. ”

Shirley being the personification of that "best friend I ever had, we still never talk sometimes" Parks and Rec quote, lol. The summation of him is so good, though -- despite what a nonentity he is compared to the other Blythe kids, you get such a good measure of him just from "sedate, sensible, thoughtful, full of a quiet humour." ❤️ I always go back and forth on the possibility of shipping him with Una -- it's lovely that Shirley appreciates her for who she is, that he likes that she's quiet and unassuming. On the other hand, like...what, do they never talk? Lmao. (Una also strikes me as having a bit of...repressed emotion, see her bottling things up and telling them to her mother's old wedding dress as a child, idk that Shirley would be able to draw that out of her...? But he is thoughtful and wholesome, so, maybe!)

“Una was as sweet and shy as she had been in the Rainbow Valley days, and her large, dark-blue eyes were as dreamy and wistful. She had a secret, carefully-hidden fancy for Walter Blythe which nobody but Rilla ever suspected. ”

MY GIRL \O/ I've seen it said that it seems unlikely that no one but Rilla suspects Una's feelings for Walter, but I actually quite like it -- it hints at Rilla actually being empathetic and perceptive under her frivolity, which she'll grow into over the war.

“She liked Una better than Faith, whose beauty and aplomb rather overshadowed other girls—and Rilla did not enjoy being overshadowed.”

Lol, it is very on-brand for early Rilla to feel she's in competition with Faith -- and I'm sure Faith doesn't think about Rilla at all, being 4-5 years older than her. (That said, I sympathize with Rilla not being a Faith enjoyer -- even though she's set up as getting into Anne-like scrapes in RV, the books lean a little too hard on how charming and intelligent and beautiful she is; she loses the flawed, earnestly trying vibe that made Anne endearing imo.) (Also, I love Rilla and Una, but it cracks me up that Rilla basically just likes Una better because she doesn't see her as a threat.)

“ bell was ringing in the little church over-harbour and the lingering dream-notes died around the dim, amethystine points. The gulf beyond was still silvery blue in the afterlight. Oh, it was all glorious—the clear air with its salt tang, the balsam of the firs, the laughter of her friends.”

I haven't been mentioning the nature descriptions because I don't really have anything to say about them other than they're lovely! Such a good sense of those moments when you're just happy, everything around you feels beautiful and you don't mind your problems in that moment -- and of course, the moment here is poised to be shattered very shortly.

“And how humanity responds to the ideal of self-sacrifice!”

Oooooh the foreshadowing! Also a very good summation of the theme of this book, in general -- there are other moments later that I think illustrate it more clearly so I won't go on too much about it now, but -- yeah, there's such a sense in this book of trying to understand and justify the pain of the war as a worthwhile sacrifice.

“We know the real charm of night here as town dwellers never do.”

Hey, leave us town dwellers out of it >:( (I do have a city girl story of visiting family out in the country when I was twelve, and being shocked by how dark it actually got at night, lmao.)

“Rilla flushed. It did not matter to her if Kenneth Ford walked home with Ethel Reese a dozen times—it did not! Nothing that he did mattered to her. He was ages older than she was. He chummed with Nan and Di and Faith, and looked upon her, Rilla, as a child whom he never noticed except to tease.”

First mention of Ken! The funniest bit about this is that his name was originally "Selwyn", and the first like 2/3rds of Readying Rilla have every single mention of him written as "Selwyn Ken". Anyway -- there's kiiiind of a set up for Rilla and Ken here; he teases her and she hates it while secretly liking/wanting more of his attention. There's a short story in TBAQ that adds on to this (honestly, it reads a bit like it's still trying to explain Rilla/Ken twenty years later lmao) -- it mentions that Ken and Rilla fought a lot as children, implying that he liked getting a rise out of her, sort of in a "pulling on her pigtails" kind of way. (Also, again, Nan and Di are set apart from Rilla here 👀)

some stuff from the glossary (minor frustration, the glossary isn't footnoted and is in alphabetical order, so you just kinda have to flip through it and try to remember what each entry is referencing):

More Readying Rilla bits:

After Rilla mentions that Jem and Faith will sit out on the rocks all evening, the next sentence starts with "They're", which is then crossed out and Rilla just starts talking about sailing to the lighthouse. While I'm sure it wasn't a big deal, it reads like someone being cut off right before saying something juicy lmao, tell meeee the Jem/Faith gossip

The line about Rilla being the only one unaware of the worry over the war originally said "only Rilla and Susan", lmao.

Miranda Pryor's name was originally Jennie.

Shirley's originally described as being "full of humor and quiet fun" (instead of "full of a quiet humor"), which does read as something a bit different to me -- the final version makes him sound like more like a quietly amused observer than someone that actually gets into hijinks.

Re: Rilla's silver slippers, the book says that Mrs. Ford (Leslie) sent them to her. The original draft says "Jean gave", which like...who tf is Jean?

[plusultraetc]

Fourteen Days of MHA | 13/14: Future, Growth, Change, Evolution

[Vague manga spoilers in the caption!! The snippet itself is all au :) ]

The aforementioned old WIP!! Not gonna lie, I've been thinking about this fic A Lot in light of recent chapters. It was originally inspired by this theory by class1akids and this post by sassypantsjaxon (which also inspired a web weave; that post hit me like a truck at the time okay? & you know what it still does!!) Anyway, I still have a lot of wildly different feelings about 'Kuroboro,' but if you want a fic rec that handles the concept in a really cool way, check out Crumbled Rooftops by Kyurilin on ao3!

Okay, that's enough links for one post. Snippet :D

[strayingawayy]

businessman minho! x former one night stand reader (and soon to be spouse)

lee minho never expected his past to catch up with him—especially not in the form of an arranged marriage.

but when he meets his fiancé for the first time, he realises with growing horror that you’re not a stranger at all. in fact, years ago, back when he was young, reckless, and making very questionable choices, he had already spent one unforgettable night with you.

lee minho was not in the mood for this.

he had closed a multi-million-pound deal just this morning, survived a two hour meeting with the most insufferable board members known to mankind, and now, instead of going home, cracking open a bottle of good fucking whiskey, and basking in his own genius and in the company of his three feline children, he was being forced to meet his future spouse.

his arranged future spouse, to be precise.

because apparently, despite being one of the most successful businessmen in the country, his parents still thought he was too much of a liability to choose his own spouse. which, fair enough, considering his past as a… let’s call it enthusiastic participant in London’s nightlife. but still. the audacity.

so here he was, in some ridiculously expensive, Michelin-starred restaurant, waiting for his fiancé to arrive. he was expecting a stranger. some posh, uptight socialite who spoke in investment portfolios and probably smelled like expensive linen. he could deal with that. he had before.

what he was not expecting was for you to walk in.

because you were not a stranger. you were someone from a very specific, very chaotic chapter of his past. a one night stand he had never really forgotten...the one who had absolutely rocked his world back when he was young, reckless, and thought monogamy was a government scam.

and judging by the way your eyes widened the moment you saw him, you remembered him too.

minho exhaled sharply, closed his eyes for a second, and then, very eloquently, whispered under his breath,

"oh, for fu-"

...

this is going to be a chaotic ride of a fic or perhaps series and i am really really looking forward to it. if you're interested, comment below, or send an ask requesting to be in the taglist! hope you enjoy this one, sweethearts.

this fic shall have adult themes, so mdni.

[jjjjisun]

Ask Your Daddy - Chapter 2

Minju X Male OC | 19556 words

TW: Incest

—

Buy me a Ko-Fi.

Book commissions here.

—

Author’s Note: The final fic in this series. You can read the first chapter here.

—

Minju felt like she’d been on cloud nine for the past few weeks. Every day, she got dizzy spells thinking about the time she was spending with her dad. After vacation, she worried their time together would dwindle as the summer ended; instead, he’d been so attentive and available for her. It wasn’t exactly difficult for Jae either, since their relationship had… changed on vacation, he was essentially spending every minute thinking of his beautiful, eighteen-year-old daughter so he wasn’t utterly focused on something else.

Change was not quite the right word for what had happened on vacation between Minju and Jae. Almost two weeks ago, it had begun with an innocent round of questioning by the little brunette on the porch of their family cabin during the yearly vacation. Minju later admitted that that night had set her on course to try and seduce her dad, and Jae admitted that he’d imagined making love to her many times before that.

Since they’d gotten home, either Jae, Minju, or both of them had been insatiable in their desire for each other. Now that Jae had gotten his hands on his daughter’s perfect little body and heard her gasp when he was inside of her, he was tortured when unable to show his affection. They had to be so careful, making sure not to do anything that might reveal them around Minju’s mother or anyone else who knew them.

And Minju was beyond incorrigible. Having asked her dad all kinds of questions about what he liked best about a woman and what she could wear to turn him on, she would dangle herself in front of him shamelessly. Of course, she knew that she’d pay for it later when he could finally ravage her, usually late at night when Eun-ju, Jae’s wife, had gone to bed.

Just a few days before, Minju had gotten him so worked up in the morning that he’d had to come home from work after he knew his wife had left the house just to teach her another lesson. As he drank his morning coffee, Minju sauntered around the kitchen in only a towel, bending over and revealing her bare, pink opening to him when she knew her mother wasn’t looking.

Jae had driven all the way to work, set his things down at his desk and sat down in his chair before realizing that there would be no way he could work until he’d shot his load inside that damned naughty teenager he had the pleasure of calling his daughter. And when he got home, finding her perched in the same towel on the couch like she knew he’d be coming back home… It was hardly a minute before he had her towelless, on her back and begging him to cum inside of her on the family room floor.

There was also the added complexity of both Minju and her father wanting her to be pregnant. It was hard to explain: the forbiddenness of succeeding and the fact that they both liked it beyond a shadow of a doubt.

“Mmmmph… oh fuck,” Minju moaned as her father thudded against her hips, forcing her against the carpet, “Cum for me daddy….ohgodddd, I want it. Cum in my pussy daddy…. unhhhghh.”

A pregnant Minju would complicate things… significantly. Jae knew his daughter probably couldn’t see everything that would have to change, regardless of how often she assured him she did. So Jae took it upon himself to begin making plans. He didn’t like the idea of taking off to some foreign country where it was legal and they could be open about who they were to each other. But Jae had no family left to miss him if he moved somewhere else in the country. He and Minju could be married couples with an age discrepancy if they found a nice place to settle down and kept their names. Eun-ju’s side of the family certainly wasn’t anything Jae or Minju wanted to stick around for; perhaps they could be happy elsewhere.

But they didn’t have to cross that bridge just yet. Much as they wanted it, they didn’t even know if Minju was pregnant yet. Every time Jae released a flood of sperm into his baby, she’d ask excitedly:

“Do you think that was it, Dad? Do you think we’re pregnant yet?”

Jae loved the way his daughter thought about things. Where his wife had always said, “I’m the one who’s pregnant,” or “I’m carrying our child,” Minju saw things completely differently. To her, it was the two of them, together. She certainly wanted her dad in many ways, but one of them was as the father of their child. Each time they had sex, he would assure Minju that he was going to be there for her no matter what. When she’d ask if they were pregnant yet, he’d say ‘maybe,’ and sometimes just thinking about it would have him hard and buried in his sweet young daughter again within minutes.

About a week after they returned from vacation, Jae had to go away for a few days on business. Minju was dreading her father’s absence to tuck her in each night. Jae would fall asleep feeling cold on the side of his teenager, usually occupied, snuggled up against him, and breathing adorably as she fell asleep.

On the second night he was gone, Minju was restless beyond belief. After lying awake for an hour, grabbing a late-night snack, and watching a little TV, she still could not imagine going to sleep. Usually she would have expended quite a bit of energy riding her daddy, thrusting her hips back and forth until she howled into her hand while she came. Nothing would satisfy her like that until she had her dad back inside of her, but Minju did have one naughty thought that might help her. Wondering if her dad was awake, Minju headed to the bathroom upstairs by her room.

After closing the door behind her Minju reached to her waist, taking hold of the bottom of the army green, close-fitting tank top she was wearing. Pulling it up and over her head, Minju felt the cold air raising goosebumps on her breasts as they jiggled free. Thinking of the way her dad would pinch each nipple between his fingers or nibble on them while she squirmed in excitement, Minju’s nubs quickly stood at attention. Next she slid out of the painted-on workout shorts she liked so much, knowing her dad would probably prefer her that way.

Minju felt unbelievably naughty as she grabbed her phone from where she had set it on the counter. She’d never done anything like this before; her skin was practically crawling with excitement as she looked in the mirror and opened the camera app on her phone.

Jae had just gone to bed. He lay awake in the unfamiliar hotel bed experiencing some of the same anxiety that his little girl was having a couple hundred miles away. He’d promised himself that he’d not get himself off without the assistance of his teenage daughter while he was gone, wanting instead to save up so he could shoot as much cum into Minju as possible when he returned. Odd as it was, Minju loved when he finally removed his cock from her fertile opening and she could watch the white substance peek out and then run down her thigh, He wanted nothing more than to make her happy.

Buzzzzzzzz.

Jae’s phone lit up on the nightstand and shuffled around as it vibrated against the hard surface. Who could be contacting him this late?

When he reached over and saw his daughter’s name on the screen, Jae’s heart skipped a beat. Jae wasn’t behind the times or anything; he just didn’t use his phone the way most people did those days. Still, even reading this daughter’s name was enough to make his blood pressure spike.

Then he opened the message.

Instantly, Jae’s draw dropped. Every time he laid eyes on his beautiful daughter, Jae was in disbelief. This time was no different. His own baby girl stood in the bathroom he knew all too well (Minju had been in not too different of a position at that very countertop days ago, except being impaled by her father from behind with her hands shakily holding her up as she felt him push his cock all the way inside her.

She was totally naked in the photo, and the soft glow of the light fixture shone on her beautifully. But damn her, the little tease had covered both her breasts and put a hand over her mound so he couldn’t see anything. Her teenage breasts were more than visible, spilling out around the arm that covered them, but both her nipples were obscured. Minju’s nipples were one of his favorite things, so tiny and always tender for him to pinch and make her squeal. And the other hand, covering the place he dreamed about frequently throughout the day. All his life, Jae had never known or felt something as good and right as it did when he was inside Minju’s quim. And there she was, covering it so he couldn’t see.

But it didn’t matter, because the photo was so sexy that he realized he couldn’t have asked for more. Every inch of Minju was smooth and toned. Her skin was even more tanned and glowing from the vacation time in the sun. She’d turned just a bit so he could see the rounded cheek of her cute butt; Jae was reminded of the other day when he’d spanked her and Minju was climaxing within seconds. Everything about the picture had Jae’s mouth watering, and the text that came with it read:

– Mad at you, who’s going to take care of me tonight? –

On her face was a pouty yet mischievous look, so alluring that Jae considered getting in the car immediately to go home and appease his young daughter. Instead he sleepily moved his fingers to respond.

Bad girl, sending naked pictures on your phone <

Only a few seconds passed before Jae’s phone buzzed again:

– What are you going to do about it? –

Maybe I’ll give you another spanking <

A longer pause this time…

– I like it when you spank me…=) –

Jae had never done much texting before; he’d never had much reason to. But as he thought of a retort for his daughter, he found his heart beating quickly and he decided that this kind of texting was definitely enjoyable.

When did you become such a trouble-maker? <

– Probably when I first felt your cock and you squirted all your sticky cum on my belly –

Holy shit, thought Jae, he wasn’t exactly expecting this kind of banter from his baby girl. After all, the text messages preceding these on his phone weren’t much more than 'what’s for dinner,’ or 'what time will you be home?’ Jae was still adjusting to seeing Minju as a lover as well as his daughter. She was always playful, and he admired the way her unfettered thoughts and words just came pouring out, but seeing or hearing the teenage say things like “your cock,” or “fuck me” still made him wince like he should be protective of her. The puzzled state of his love for Minju was something Jae was beginning to crave.

Minju must have grown restless waiting for his response because soon his phone buzzed again:

– What are you thinking about daddy? –

I’m thinking about what I’m going to do to you when I get home <

– Oh yeah? What do you want to do to me daddy. –

I have a few things in mind… <

– Please, you have to tell me. I can’t go to sleep until you do –

I’m going to come home early from my trip, when your mom is still at work. <

Then he waited, knowing it would torture Minju to be left hanging. Minju had made her way back to her bed by then and was lying down on top of the covers, too preoccupied to get underneath. She didn’t intend for the picture to start the two of them sexting, but now that he was playing along Minju was sporting a big smile and her fingers had made their way down to her pair or purple cotton underwear. When she felt the taut fabric where she wanted her dad to be, it was already very wet. But her dad was taking too long, he was probably just a slow texter.

– AAAND? –

You’ll be in the kitchen, making a snack. But for some reason you forgot to wear any clothes. <

– I can be so forgetful sometimes –

I’ll want to take things slow, but I’ve waited too long <

– You’re always so patient with me daddy –

Not this time <

– Sometimes you intimidate me, you’re so strong and I’m still just your baby.–

I don’t mean to, you just bring it out in me honey <

– I didn’t say I don’t like it. –

Good, because I don’t think I can be so gentle the next time I see you <

– Hoping you won’t be. –

– You didn’t finish the story dad. What happens when you find me in the kitchen –

I drop my bags on the spot, you hear me and turn around <

– I’d be nervous it wasn’t you, cuz I’ll be naked and vulnerable –

Lock all the doors before you take off your clothes for me honey <

– I’ll be naked for you all day, waiting–

– What’s next daddy?–

I walk over to you, as slowly as I can manage, put my hands on your bare hips, and lift you up on the countertop <

– God I love it when you do that –

– The countertop will be cold on my butt daddy, but I won’t care cuz I’m so excited for what you’ll do next –

What do you want me to do? <

– I bet your big cock will be sticking out in your pants like it always does. I can’t wait for you to take them off –

Minju’s phone sat silent for a moment. And then another. And then one more.

– Daddy? Did you fall asleep? I’m all wet now and I want you to tell me what you’re gonna do to me! –

I’ll show you when I’m home on Monday baby, I’m saving myself for you until then <

– UGHH! No fair dad, you got me all excited! –

…Monday. Goodnight honey <

Jae knew he was driving Minju crazy, but he liked it that way. There was nothing more exciting than when the eighteen-year-old was riled up and hungry for sex. Just the other day she’d been out late with her friends and Jae hadn’t seen her since the morning. When Minju came home, a little tipsy, Jae hardly had time so say hello before she’d straddled him on the couch and put her hands on his cock. They were lucky Eun-ju went to bed early that night because Minju had her dad stuck up inside her right there on the couch after a few moments of lust-filled making out and touching.

Minju was no dummy, but even though she knew what her dad was doing she wasn’t able to just set it out of her mind. Still, she felt better than before, missing her dad a little less with the knowledge that he wanted her as bad as she wanted him. It took a while, but both Minju and her father dozed off thinking only of each other.

The next days were equally torturous. Minju sent two more pictures, one of her wearing a new bathing suit, and one of her in just a sheet. When he opened the second, he was in a meeting and nearly choked on his coffee. Minju looked like an angel in a bed of white, and she’d turned her hips to cover her young pussy with a curled leg. The sheet only covered a small portion of her breasts, and as Jae ignored the guy speaking at the moment, he dreamed of how he would get between her toned legs and thrust into his daughter hard enough that she’d find herself pressed deep into the sheets.

The whole drive back Jae was fixated on thoughts of his beautiful daughter and how much fun they would have when he got home. He wondered if Minju would really be walking around naked all day. She probably was; or at least he hoped so, pressing the pedal a little closer to the floor as he anticipated it.

Sure enough, as Jae opened the door to the house, he could hear someone moving around in the kitchen. He couldn’t help that all the anticipation and imaginings had him hard before he’d even opened the door.

It was indeed Minju at the countertop when he entered the kitchen, but she wasn’t naked. She had on a t-shirt and tiny pair of running shorts. Though he would have liked to find his pretty teenager ready to have some ravenous sex like they’d texted about, she looked perfect and desirable in what she was wearing too. But she didn’t turn around for him when he dropped his things.

As Jae approached her from behind he could sense that something was off. He carefully put his hands on her arms, savoring the feeling of touching her again and glad she didn’t flinch or shrug off his touch. He came up close to her and peeked his head around to see the side of her face.

A tear rolled onto the top of her soft cheek and though he didn’t know what for, Jae instantly felt his heart break for her.

“Oh honey,” he said, bringing a finger to her cheek and wiping away the drop, “what’s the matter Minju?”

Minju sobbed once, sucking in a quick gasp as she choked back more tears.

“I got my period two days ago… I’m so sorry daddy!”

Jae’s heart leapt again, glad that nothing worse had caused his lovable brunette to cry. He hugged her close, intending to reassure her when she kept talking,

“I was so excited for us to be pregnant and to be all ready for you like I promised when you got home…sob… and this ruins everything!”

Her head was spinning. Jae could see it in her eyes, and he had to fight a quiet chuckle seeing his daughter so distraught about something she needn’t be.

“Sweetheart,” he said, taking her face in his hands and turning her toward him, “It’s okay! It’s not the end of the world. It’s not the end of anything.”

She looked up at him with big eyes and waited for him to say more.

“First of all, I will wait for you forever if I have to. I love you, and whenever you can or want to sleep together or don’t is just fine with me.” Minju seemed to be warming up word by word, but she still seemed upset about something.

“But we tried so many times daddy… and I’m not pregnant! It’s my fault I know it!”

This time Jae did have to laugh, and he took Minju tight against his chest, recalling how much he missed the feeling. The tight shirt must have been supportive enough for her because Minju didn’t bother to wear a bra and he could feel her young breasts against him.

“Minju, it’s not your fault at all. Aww, were you worried about telling me this for the last few days?”

Minju shook her head yes.

“Honey, sometimes it takes a few months of trying before you get pregnant. From the timing of things, it looks like we might have started a little late anyway.”

Again, Minju’s eyes brightened.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m willing to try a thousand more times if it’s with my beautiful daughter.”

Minju threw her arms around her dad, wiping the last tears off on his shirt and trying to give him as big a hug as possible.

“I love you so much daddy,” she said, holding him.

Cradling her head, Jae held his daughter close and reveled in how deeply he loved her. Being Minju’s father and lover was said to be wrong in so many ways, but it didn’t feel wrong. As he held her, Jae felt like he’d been opened up to the deepest, most meaningful connection he’d ever felt with somebody before, and the fact that it was his own eighteen-year-old daughter was simply circumstance. Of course, he’d not allowed himself the feeling before the pretty brunette was of age, but she was truly an adult now and he felt their desires and willingness were unquestionably balanced.

Jae had shared feelings such as he was having with his daughter in the days past. Minju greatly admired how much it mattered to her dad that she was content and comfortable with everything that was going on. Minju knew she was inexperienced, or completely without experience until she gave her dad her virginity a few weeks prior, but she wasn’t dumb. One of those nights she’d spent curled up in his arms she’d told him:

“I don’t need to be older or more experienced or anything else to know how I feel dad.” Jae’s eyes had gotten big with surprise and admiration.

“I love you. I want to be with you and be yours. I know what it feels like now to love somebody enough to want a baby with them, and that’s how I feel about you.”

That would have been enough for Jae, but his daughter showed him that she wanted him in other ways too. She was adventurous and spunky and wanted to try everything in bed with him. She wanted him to do everything he’d ever wanted to her (within reason) and that’s probably what made him absolutely crazy about her.

Eun-ju was never willing to do doggy with him; Minju loved arching her back and sticking up her butt so he could easily enter her from behind. Eun-ju refused to use her mouth on him, though she loved when he did, and Minju seemed to love licking him all over and getting him as hard as possible before begging him to fuck her. Minju also loved risking getting caught. Though he hadn’t gotten a chance, Jae suspected his daughter would probably like to try having sex in public; he fully intended to satisfy her if that was the case.

As the thoughts raced through Jae’s mind, he held his anxious teenager in his arms and felt her breathing regularize.

“I was so excited for you to come home and fuck me on the counter daddy. I’m sorry we can’t.” She said sincerely.

“It’s really okay Minju’, I think we’ll survive.”

“I don’t know if I can though,” Minju continued, backing away to look at her dad, “I want you too badly.”

Jae just smiled, seeing a hint of the same insatiable sex drive in his daughter that he often felt. And Minju wasn’t kidding, because before he could retort, she started to slip down between his arms until she came to rest perched in front of him.

“Do you want me to suck your cock daddy?”

She often did this now, seeing how excited her dad would get when she played up the daughter role.

“Oh daaad,” she said, rubbing her hand over the bulge in his pants that had been there since he walked in the house, “is this all big and hard for me?”

“So bad daddy! You want your daughter to put your cock in her mouth don’t you?”

As she spoke, Minju reached behind her head and wrapped her thick brown hair in a ponytail. Then she slowly and deliberately unbuckled her dad’s pants and pushed them to the ground. Jae didn’t interfere. The sight was too perfect to disrupt. In seconds that felt like hours, Minju finally pulled his boxer briefs down and his cock sprung free.

“Do you want me to take my shirt off daddy?”

Jae just shook his head 'yes,’ and she obliged him. Even watching her grab the shirt and pull it up with two arms, slowly, over her head was enough to make his cock jump. She looked incredible, kneeling in front of him with only a tall pair of white socks and tiny athletic shorts and now her naked, young chest on display for her father. He wasn’t going to last long.

And when Minju grabbed him at the base of his cock and swallowed at least half of his length, Jae worried he’d cum all too soon. She kept eye contact as she blew him, bobbing her head back and forth, her perfect breasts quivering with each stroke. Jae’s daughter got better every time she blew him.

“Good girl, keep doing that,” Jae said as Minju used her fingers to massage his balls. Where she picked that up, he had no idea, but it felt so incredible he was near within seconds of her careful hands caressing him.

Breaking eye contact for a second, Minju plunged as deep as she could onto her dad’s cock, feeling it touch her near the back of her mouth before she couldn’t fit any more. He was just too big. She got him all nice and wet as she pulled back and sucked eagerly at his tip. Jae groaned aloud as Minju encircled his tip with her tongue and then finally pulled her head back to look adorably up at him.

“I love your cock so much daddy,” she said, working her hand down using all the saliva she’d left on him. “Are you gonna cum for me?”

“Yes…ughh…. fuck Minju’”

“Will you cum on my tits daddy? Please?” she said with giant, fawning eyes. Minju bit her lip and stroked him more firmly.

“Come on dad, I want it,” she looked down to make sure she was stroking him right and pointing his head at her chest. When she heard Jae beginning to gasp she looked back up with a furrowed brow and watched him get tossed over the edge by her incredible stroking.

When the first, pent up jet of cum splashed out, Minju gasped in astonishment. Her dad couldn’t keep his eyes down on her; as hard as he tried, his still head rolled back and he began to cum all over his daughter’s chest. A second spurt landed right between Minju’s perky breasts, and then another, and another. Minju directed it all over her, relishing the warm streams of her daddy’s sperm all over her.

Jae eventually gathered himself to look and found himself mesmerized by his fixated little girl still stroking him so she could keep watching his forbidden spunk cover another streak of her bare, youthful skin. Seeing her so satisfied to have her dad’s cum squirted haphazardly all over her was yet another moment Jae hoped to remember for the rest of his life. She looked so beautiful, her face a bit flushed from the effort, still perched athletically on her knees and slowly moving her hand on his yet rigid member.

When Minju looked up, she couldn’t hide the proud smile on her face, which, in tandem with the sight of her eighteen-year-old tits covered in cum nearly made him orgasm again. Minju giggled when she watched her dad wince as her hand came in contact with his tingling head.

“I think you needed that daddy, look how much you came on my boobs!” She reached down and squeezed them together to show them off.

The sight was almost too much for him; Jae felt weak in the knees with desire for the tiny brunette.

“Wanna take a picture of me daddy?” Minju said, raising her eyebrows.

Jae was once again stunned. His daughter amazed him in one way or another every single day and he just couldn’t get enough. Reaching down to the pants Minju had just taken off of him, Jae grabbed his phone.

“You are unbelievable sweetie,” Jae said.

“I like being naughty for you dad,” Minju said, “Sometimes I just wanna be your slutty little daughter,” she continued, a little embarrassed.

Jae held up his phone and aimed it down at Minju, wishing so badly he could just pick her up and fuck her until he spent an equally large load in her needy insides.

“Show me what a slutty little daughter looks like then Minju,”

Excitedly, Minju arched her back to stick out her incredible breasts, once again squeezing them together to show off the spunk that was splattered atop them. She bit her lip and turned her eyebrows downward like a puppy who knew she’d done something wrong. As Jae snapped the picture, he already knew that it would be one he looked at countless times in the future. The photogenic little teen only needed one take, she wore his cum and that adorable look of naughtiness perfectly for her daddy as he snapped the shot.

“And when we can again daddy,” Minju said, standing up finally and running a finger from the bottom of his cock all the way to the tip where one last bit of cum remained, “I want you to fuck me like your slutty little daughter too.”

With that she licked her finger to taste her dad’s semen, looking boldly at him the whole time.

In his state of haste and preoccupation with getting home to his daughter, Jae hadn’t quite kept track of time. He’d gotten on the road later than he intended, and now it was near dinner time, right about the time his wife usually arrived home from work. So when the rumbling of the garage door came, Jae knew it would be only a moment or two before his wife came barging in through the door next to the kitchen.

“Uh oh,” Minju said.

But there was something off in her voice. Something she knew that he didn’t. Jae had pulled up his pants almost instantaneously when the sound came, but Minju hadn’t even attempted to cover up or make herself scarce. Again, Minju’s eyes met his daringly.

“Minju!” Jae cried, “Your mother,”

Minju shook her head 'no.’

Jae was in a state of absolute terror. He reached out for his topless and cum-splattered daughter; maybe he could push her into a hiding spot before his wife made it into the kitchen.

But she dodged him, stepping back before he could grab her.

“What are you doing?!” he said as quietly but seriously as he could.

Minju looked back at the door and then at her father, “you aren’t the only one who’s been busy these last few days daddy.”

With that, she raised her eyebrows and the door opened.

———————————

It was something Minju saw on vacation. It was subtle, but Minju just happened to look at the right moment. Only a touch, a hand on a thigh for the briefest moment that had clued her in. But Minju had seen it, and apparently nobody else had.

Her mother and friend Mi-Young had been sitting in the back of the boat when Eun-ju reached out to touch her best friend on the thigh. She must not have thought anyone would see, but she was wrong. As Minju’s mom moved her hand to caress Mi-Young’s thigh and then removed it while gazing at her the entire time, Minju quickly realized that this was not just a friendly vacation for the two mothers.

How could she not have seen it? How did they manage to hide it so well? How long had it been going on? What was IT in the first place?

Minju had been so preoccupied thinking about the tryst with her father the night before or how she wanted him to fuck her the next day that she hadn’t been paying close enough attention. Perhaps if Minju could hide the fact that she had her dad’s cum running down her inner thigh at dinner, her mother could do the same with whatever was going on between her and that loud, obnoxious friend of hers.

It was too early to tell her dad. Plus, despite the fact that she was doing everything she could to keep her dad happy, Minju didn’t think she needed to imply his wife was cheating on him, at least not until she had some proof.

Immediately Minju began to scheme. She hated having to hide her new relationship with her dad. What if she could somehow find a way to reveal it all? Just the thought of having sex with her daddy in another room with her mom’s knowledge made Minju wet with anxiousness. She had to investigate.

But they gave her nothing. Not a night spent in the same bed, not a stolen kiss or a few words when Minju was just within earshot. They were practiced at this, it must have been going on a long time. It made sense. Her mother’s image was everything to her: so proud of her children, her successful marriage to a now-wealthy man, her social life… she was even outspokenly judgmental of divorcees and cheaters and such. Perhaps it was all just guilt and a cover-up for what was really going on.

Minju wondered if she had been wrong, maybe the touch was just an accident. And they’d only given her the most subtle indications that there was something between them for the rest of the vacation. She had begun to let her guard down when something stuck out to her after they’d gotten home.

“Going shopping!” Her mother had announced one day on her way out the door.

That would be completely normal for her…usually.

But the day before Eun-ju had given her daughter the credit card she always used for shopping. Minju’s mom never forgot that card; if there was even a chance she might need it Eun-ju would be all over the forgetful teenager to have it back.

Minju’s senses were on high alert. It was only her at home, and the other car was in the garage. Her dad had been gone a few days already and her brother had gone back to his apartment in the city the day they got back from vacation. If she hurried she could follow her mom to the “mall” and see for herself what was going on.

Minutes later, Minju was in the car following as far away as she could while her mom went in the complete opposite direction of the mall. Yep, something was up.

She followed her to the next suburb over, and as Minju entered it her heart began to race; it was the suburb where Mi-Young lived.

The next hour or so went down exactly as Minju might have expected. She felt like a private investigator in one of those reality TV shows: snooping around, taking pictures through windows. It worked out perfectly, like she was meant to have followed her mom that afternoon. It was a warm day, so Minju even got some videos through an open window..

Most of it was totally gross to Minju. She had no interest in women, or in seeing what two women did to pleasure each other, especially not her mother and another forty-something suburban housewife. But still she watched, she photographed and she recorded what was obviously not the first time her mother and her long-time female friend had been together. Minju felt particularly justified when she caught on tape a conversation the two of them had about Minju and her dad:

“…they don’t know anything.” Eun-ju had said, getting dressed in the bedroom they’d just finished up in.

“Jae’s too boring to think anything like us would actually happen, and the kids don’t care about anyone but themselves.”

Minju found it hard not to jump up and retort. Her mom had always been negative about everything; she just took it as Eun-ju trying to make herself feel better about the affair.

“Plus he’s too busy attending to your daughter it looks like,” Mi-Young replied to Eun-ju, “Minju hardly spent a moment talking to my son.”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Eun-ju said, “I can’t ever separate those two.”

“Minju’s really become quite the looker huh? Maybe that’s why your husband spends so much time with her: same brand, younger model.”

Eun-ju laughed at the comparison but obviously didn’t approve of the joke, “Oh shut up, that’s disgusting. And he doesn’t have the guts to pull something like that”

Minju almost laughed aloud. Her mom was clueless on so many levels.

“Well if he isn’t maybe you should, perhaps she takes after her mother and would want in on "shopping” with us.“

"That’s enough!” Eun-ju said, jumping on her lover and covering her mouth.

Despite everything, Minju was mad. She’d never, ever, ever, participate in what she just saw her mother and that awful friend of hers doing, but that wasn’t it. She was mad at her mother because she knew now that her dad was deprived of the kind of playfulness and love and everything in between that she’d just witnessed between the two women.

She couldn’t be mad at her for getting married to her father in the first place; Minju wouldn’t be there if she hadn’t. However, for as long as the affair had been going on and likely a lot longer there was no doubt her dad had missed out on the true happiness that was supposed to come in a relationship. Minju hoped she was filling that role for her dad now, but Minju truly resented her mom for being so selfish.

Minju left in a tizzy, quietly shirking off to her car parked down the street. For the first ten minutes, she thought in circles about how unfair and careless her mother was being with Jae’s feelings. In fact, what about the rest of the family; she didn’t exactly have anything good to say about them either. No, that was not important. Minju decided she would instead find a way to use all the photos and video she’d just stored up on her phone to make her dream of truly being with her dad happen.

By the time Eun-ju came home, Minju had a plan. Simply listening to the way her mom lied about where she’d gone and what she’d been doing only fueled the fire.

Her plan commenced the next day. A few nights ago she’d sent the naughty photo to her dad. She wasn’t going to involve him yet, but the photo would work just fine.

Eun-ju and Minju had the same phone, so switching them could easily lead to her mother seeing something she shouldn’t…

While watching TV in the other room, Minju heard her mother gasp dramatically.

“MINJU YOU COME IN HERE RIGHT NOW!”

Usually she would be terrified, but this time not so much. In fact, Minju ambled into the kitchen with a smile on her face. Her plan was already falling into place; Eun-ju was holding her daughter’s phone and standing with her mouth agape in the kitchen. Just as Minju had planned, she’d swapped their phones where Eun-ju always left hers on the kitchen counter. She didn’t even know the worst part yet.

“WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS PICTURE DOING ON YOUR PHONE?”

Minju looked curiously at the phone her mother was holding up and smiled again.

“Oh, that?” she said knowingly “I sent that to daddy the other night.”

Minju honestly didn’t know what to expect when she said that. The silence her mother maintained for the next few seconds was understandable.

“You…. did…. WHAT?” Her tone just sounded so stupid, thought Minju.

“I…sent…it…to…dad…the…other…night.” She retorted mockingly.

“I heard you, you little bitch,” Eun-ju said, Minju knew she was pushing her luck, at least until the big reveal. “Why on earth would you do that.”

“I dono, maybe cuz I was horny? He hasn’t fucked me since he left on his trip!”

Again, silence. This time it was different. Minju’s mom was probably trying to work out whether to believe her or not. And if she did, there would obviously be some accepting of the reality.

“YOU ARE IN SO MUCH TROUBLE YOUNG LADY!” She was yelling again, “Just wait until I tell your father what you said.”

So she didn’t believe her, whatever. Minju was smiling again.

“What the fuck are you smiling about?” Eun-ju asked incredulously.

“Oh I don’t think I’m gonna be in any trouble, that’s all.” Minju said, baiting her.

Eun-ju scoffed, “And why’s that?”

“Well, do you want the reason you won’t be grounding me or the proof that daddy and I are fucking first?” Minju said, having fun with it.

“Cut this shit out right now Minju!” Eun-ju said, sounding more and more nervous.

“Why don’t you go ahead and swipe to the left on my phone? You’ll have to go past the other photo I sent to dad first tho.”

Sure enough, the picture of Minju in her bathing suit was there on the first swipe. But the next swipe was the moment of truth. Eun-ju’s eyes widened immediately. She made it two pictures further before dropping the phone on the counter like it had burned her.

“What’s the matter mom, you didn’t even get to the best ones?”

“I don’t know what you think that is, but I’ll have nothing to do with it.” Eun-ju tried.

“Oh I think you know what this is,” Minju continued, “And I think if you just give it a minute to sink in, you’ll realize that I’m not your 'little bitch’ anymore.”

Eun-ju stayed quiet.

“I know you’ll think of claiming they’re fake, or destroying my phone or whatever else you can come up with, but it’s no use. I’ve thought of everything.”

Eun-ju looked like she was going to throw up, it was probably because it was the first time she’d ever felt powerless and she couldn’t stand it.

“You’ll threaten to turn me and dad in, you’ll threaten to kick us out, but save it. You know your whole life as you know it would be over if anyone found out about daddy and I or about you and your affairs.”

The words stung her mother. How much of this did Minju have, was it just the one time or was it something worse. Minju didn’t know there were multiple affairs, but it was worth a guess. Judging by her mother’s reaction, she had more to hide. Good.

“What would all of your committees say if they found out? I wonder if you could still be on the school board with Mi-Young if they knew you two were fucking?”

Judging by the look on her mother’s face, Minju didn’t think she had to go any further.

“So here’s what I’m going to propose: are you listening?”

Eun-ju nodded half-heartedly.

“You can keep doing your thing. The photos and the truth can stay just between us.”

Her mother seemed to perk up and listen more attentively when Minju said that.

“And you and your dad?” Eun-ju managed to eek out.

“Oh so you believe me now? Well somebody has got to take care of him, and we both know that isn’t you. Tell me the truth, do you love him at all anymore?”

Eun-ju’s silence was enough to answer the question.

“Well I love him, more than you ever have. So for now, you should just act like it’s totally normal.” Minju said.

“Like it’s totally normal for a father to be molesting his daughter??” Eun-ju tried to fight back.

“Uh, no. First of all, I practically begged daddy to take my virginity.” Eun-ju winced at that, “I’m eighteen years old and perfectly capable of making my own decisions. Dad wouldn’t have done anything I didn’t absolutely want him to do.”

Eun-ju thought for a few more seconds before saying, “no, I won’t let it happen.”

“I thought you might try to refuse so I’ll just say this: why don’t you sleep on it. If you haven’t changed your mind in the morning, then we can sit down together and figure out who you want to send your photoshoot to first?”

With that, Eun-ju got up and stormed out of the kitchen. Minju honestly didn’t know what her mother would decide given a day or so to think about it, but she had a feeling things would work out. Revealing that she and her dad had been having sex…incestuous sex… felt empowering. Minju was proud and relieved and horny all at the same time. Things could still backfire, but she knew her mother well; Eun-ju was so obsessed with the perfect facade she wore every day; something like this could destroy it entirely. Would she really risk it?

Sure enough, Minju got her answer the next day. Eun-ju slinked into the kitchen with a scowl on her face while Minju was watching TV and eating a bowl of cereal.

“Hey mom,” Minju said, trying to break the ice after Eun-ju had been silent for a moment.

“Hi. So… what is it you want out of this? Money? A new car? What?” Eun-ju asked.

“No, I told you, I don’t want anything, not from you anyway.” Minju said happily.

“So, what then?”

“Well,” Minju replied, cocking her head, “I guess I just want to have free reign to have sex with daddy any time I want.”

“You know that’s illegal right?” Eun-ju said snarkily.

“Yep, we both do. But I can’t help how I feel about dad, and you wouldn’t know anything about that.”

“I can’t believe I raised such a little cunt,” Eun-ju said, not quite under her breath.

“And you won’t be intervening either, making comments like that or putting guilt on dad when I make him want me so bad he can’t help himself.” Minju continued.

“Whatever Minju,” Eun-ju snapped back.

“No, I’m serious mom. I can send those pictures out one by one. And wow did you and Mi-Young get into some really weird stuff!”

“Ugh” Eun-ju scoffed in compliance.

The two of them stared each other down in silence. Neither wanted to be the next to speak Minju decided to step up:

“Did you ever love him?” Minju asked again. She was still bickering, but Eun-ju could sense the hurt in her voice.

“Yes, I did…in a way,” Eun-ju trailed off. “I wanted kids; I wanted a normal life, I didn’t know how else to do it.”

“So you just used dad to get what you want?” Minju asked forcefully “Do you realize how unfair that is to him?”

Eun-ju didn’t seem to have an answer. Either she knew Minju was right, or she didn’t care. Based on what she’d heard the day before at Mi-Young’s, Minju assumed the latter.

Minju couldn’t know it, but she had struck a bit of a nerve with her mother. After all, Jae and Eun-ju had been together for many years; she didn’t hate him or it never would have worked. She just didn’t love him the way most wives did. A part of her, however small, was glad that her husband had someone to love him the way Minju did, to make love to him and take the pressure off Eun-ju. She would never reveal her feelings to either of them. She would retain that it was disgusting and wrong; but perhaps this way she wouldn’t have to worry about the whole thing imploding. Ultimately, their secrets could stay all under one roof.

“Are you two at least using…protection?” Eun-ju asked, grimacing.

Minju was quick to answer: “Yes mom. and I got my period yesterday so you have nothing to worry about.”

It was true, and the disdain Minju’s mom took for her daughter being argumentative was actually disappointment. So much was happening all at once, but Minju hadn’t lost sight of how badly she wanted to be carrying her dad’s baby. She’d dreamt about it since the first time she’d watched him cum, so pleased to see her dad lose himself that way. And he had wanted to get Minju pregnant too; at least he’d tried so many times Minju had lost count.

'Argghhh!’ Minju screamed inwardly. It only made her want to take it out on her mother more.

“Well we’re putting you on birth control right away then, got it?” Eun-ju asked, like she still intended to maintain some kind of power over her daughter.

“Yeah sure,” said a distracted Minju, thinking about how she was going to tell her dad she’d gotten her period and wondering if he would be upset with her.

“And the pictures on your phone?” Eun-ju asked.

“I’ll delete the ones on my phone.” Minju promised, seeing surprise on her mom’s face. “Oh I’ll be keeping them in other places just in case. But they’ll stay there as long as you don’t come between me and dad.”

Minju’s mom would spend the days before Jae arrived home debating whether or not she could somehow maneuver around her daughter’s leverage. Ultimately, Minju had judged her correctly. Eun-ju liked her life and she didn’t need anything to change. She could maintain all of the relationships, clubs and committees she had. She could continue the affair with Mi-Young, and probably be a lot less secretive, which was the most relieving part.

Eun-ju was feeling about as cooperative as she could manage the day her husband was scheduled to return. Even given days to consider it, Eun-ju didn’t know what she’d say to her husband. They were both guilty of something. On one hand, Eun-ju’s affair had been going on a long time, and involved more than just Mi-Young. She didn’t know how much the two of them knew, or would find out. On the other hand, Jae was fucking their daughter, which was almost unthinkable to her. Then again, Minju was gorgeous, perhaps even as much as her mother at that age, thought Eun-ju. Illegal or not, there was some logic behind his attraction to the eighteen-year-old.

Regardless of how weird things had gotten in the last few days at the house, Eun-ju was feeling better as she pulled into the garage on Monday. She’d gotten Minju on birth control, she’d had a guilt-free day of sex with Mi-Young and seen her friends that afternoon at the country club. She grabbed the groceries and opened the door.

—————————-

To Jae, it felt like everything was happening in slow motion. Minju had not gotten time to tell him everything that had happened in the time since he’d gotten home and managed to coat his pretty daughter’s breasts in spunk.

The door opened, and Eun-ju came through.

His topless teenager timed it perfectly, giving Eun-ju a long look at her as she strutted by. Jae’s wife gasped, and her mouth dropped open.

It was totally out of his control. There was no question now, even with his pants on and his manhood returning to normal size, it was obviously Jae who’d cum all over the brunette’s chest.

But Eun-ju’s eyes… as they met Minju’s they narrowed in anger.

What on earth was going on? Why hadn’t his wife begun screaming as expected? She wasn’t even looking at him, instead focused on Minju and the state she’d found her in.

As Minju walked out, Jae guiltily picked her shirt up off the ground. He watched his wife turn toward him and shoot him the nastiest look.

She knew something. She had expected this somehow.

Eun-ju didn’t know where the line between intervening with Minju and Jae’s relationship and 'acting like it was normal’ fell, so she stayed quiet. After a moment, which felt like an hour to Jae, Eun-ju walked all the way into the kitchen and set the groceries on the counter across from him. Yep, she knew.

“So…” he prodded, “you….know….about us?” he said with uncertainty.

“No, I don’t know anything” Eun-ju quipped, “I must have missed your sperm all over our daughter’s tits.” The sarcasm was thick in her voice.

“I guess you’re into a lot of things I didn’t know about.”

Okay, something was definitely up, and there was no way Eun-ju would just brush something like this off if Minju wasn’t forcing her to. Even though it wasn’t him controlling her, Jae felt oddly powerful seeing his wife so restrained. Still, with no idea what was going on, Jae didn’t want to push it.

“Who knew I’d be into a little relief after being away for a few days, you certainly never did” Jae said with attitude. Two could play this game.

Eun-ju only scoffed and went about her business. She couldn’t argue with her husband for fear that she might be breaking the terms of her agreement with Minju. Jae was glad of it, and took off after his daughter after an awkward pause in the kitchen.

He found her in the bathroom, stripping off her clothes and waiting for the shower to warm up. A big smile came across Minju’s face when her dad walked in.

“I’m sorry I didn’t have time to tell you daddy,” she said with that cute little frown, “I was so worried you’d be disappointed with me for not being pregnant.”

“I told you already honey,” Jae said, stepping closer and putting a hand around her naked bottom, “it’s okay, it’s nobody’s fault, and won’t it be fun to have all kinds of sex until one of my swimmers finally gets ya?”

Minju giggled as her dad squeezed her butt. “uhhh huh!” she agreed, shaking her head up and down enthusiastically.

“Now, are you going to tell me why you decided it would be okay for your mother to see that big mess we made all over these puppies?” Jae asked, holding his hands out and jiggling her teenage breasts together. Again his daughter laughed aloud as she watched him playing with her tits.

“I’ll tell you, if you get in the shower with me!”

Despite still feeling a little strange about everything, Jae didn’t dare turn his naked little daughter down. She held his hand and stepped under the shower, happy to have her dad with her again.

Minju proceeded to tell him everything that happened: her suspicions, what had raised them, following her mom to the Murphy’s house, the photos, and finally the argument afterward. Jae added some perspective that Minju hadn’t thought of: that her mother had been pushing the relationship with Mi-Young’s son so strongly because she’d likely wanted more excuse to see her lover even more.

Jae didn’t know his daughter had it in her to execute such a scheme. But it had obviously worked, judging by the reaction of his wife upon seeing the clear evidence of incest on his daughter in the kitchen. He was so proud it made him want Minju more.

Like the perfect, sweet girl she was, at some point after Jae had washed all of the spunk from her chest Minju got down on her knees in the shower and sucked her dad’s hard cock until he came in her mouth. Eun-ju had given him hardly enough blowjobs to count on one hand, and here his little girl was giving him the second in less than an hour. And she swallowed it all like it was nothing, licking at the last drop that remained on his tip before standing back up to face him.

“I can’t get over you,” Jae told her.

“Good!” Minju replied, “I hope you never do.”

She hugged him close, feeling so small in his arms at almost a foot shorter than him.

“No way Minju,” he promised the teen, “you’re mine now, my bad little girl.”

With that he grabbed her butt with a slap by both hands. Minju jumped and wrapped her legs around him. If only they could have sex, Minju would be howling with the feeling of her dad shoving inside of her in this position.

“I want you to fuck me really hard when it’s time daddy,” Minju said, feeling bashful, “is that okay?”

“Oh god Minju’, I would be happy to.” Jae replied, rolling his head back as he imagined taking his daughter in the exact position he was now.

“I almost forgot,” Minju said suddenly, dropping to her feet on the floor of the shower, “mom made me go and get a prescription for birth control when I told her. She thinks we’re using condoms too…” Minju said with a shrug and a guilty look on her face.

“Well, maybe it’s best not to incite any trouble with her?” Jae asked

“But I don’t want to stop trying to get pregnant daddy,” she said, trying to sound how she always did when she wanted something. It always worked on him. “Mom watches me take the pills, but the doctor said that while I’m on my period they are just sugar pills. So I haven’t taken any real ones yet”

“Hmmm…” Jae said, thinking, “Well my little troublemaker, have you come up with any plans for this part too?”

“What if we found some that looked just like the regular ones and replaced them?”

“Yep, I think you nailed it,” Jae said. He was turned on beyond belief. The fact that Minju would go to such lengths for him made Jae want to shower her in praise, gifts, whatever she wanted.

Jae took firm grasp of her shoulders and looked at her intently, saying “"God I love you Minju,”

She squirmed in his grasp, unable to hide how good hearing him say that made her feel. She knew he meant it differently and full of much more meaning than before. It took standing up on the tips of her wet toes to reach him for a soft, lovely kiss. Her lips tasted like the warm water that was pouring down and keeping her backside warm while her father did the same for her front.

As they stood there together, Minju felt her dad’s penis beginning to swell again, pushing right between them and making her giggle and stay on her toes so it could linger between her legs a second more.

“Soon daddy, I love you too” she whispered before stepping down, grabbing a towel and exiting the shower.

The next few days were going to be tough.

————————-

And they were. When they went out to the drugstore the next day looking for matching pills to trick Minju’s mother, Jae and Minju agreed to wait until the next time they’d actually have sex before engaging in any activity at all. It seemed like a good idea at the time; saving up would increase his sperm count for when Minju was ready to have sex again and that thought was enough to get him through. But he would regret it later, especially falling asleep at night in her bed (there was no point going back to his own by then) with a raging hard-on and a sexy teenager in his embrace.

At the store, Minju was wearing a sort-of Aztec-patterned top that was a pattern of voids he could see right through.. She had on a strapless bra beneath, but upon glimpsing her toned midsection that always impressed him, thoughts of fucking her right there in the aisle filled his brain. And the jean shorts… she seemed to have endless pairs of them. These ones had the bottoms rolled up so they showed a lighter band below. Consequently, they were even shorter that way, and every single guy they passed chanced a look. Jae made sure to make eye contact with every one of them. 'She’s mine,’ he felt like saying.

Later in the week, Eun-ju decided to put on a show for Minju and her dad by inviting Mi-Young over and hosting what sounded like a pornography filming session in their bedroom. It still stung, the knowledge that his wife had been cheating on him for so long. But with Minju by his side after they’d tiptoed close to the room, looking toward the closed door and then up at him with wide eyes, his troubles seemed less important.

Seeing her giggle and grab his side, whispering: “did you hear that?!” Jae loved her more than ever. Hair in a messy bun, yet another cute outfit, and a big smile on her face because she knew they were getting the better end of the deal, Jae began to make plans of his own.

————————————-

Saturday night, a jet-black towncar pulled up to the front of the house. Jae had told his daughter remarkably little. When they woke up that morning, Jae kissed Minju on the neck gently to wake her up.

“Minju’,” he said, waiting for her to roll towards him with a sleepy groan, “I’m going to go out for a little bit. There’s an envelope with your name on it for a day at the best spa in the city, and money for a new dress. Be ready at 7:00, okay?”

“Yes sir!” she said jokingly, just opening her eyes in time to accept a kiss. Minju craned her neck as he backed out of bed to try and make it last longer, but then he was gone.

As she rolled onto her back and stretched, Minju realized she was excited. Even though they could have had sex days ago, her dad had still suggested they wait. She admired his self-control, but secretly wished he would just fuck her senseless every minute she was awake. She couldn’t believe he had lasted this long, but now that she knew he was planning something mysterious it made sense.

The birth control trick was working like a charm. Minju’s mom came to her at the same time every night and watched her take the pill. Minju might have complained about how overbearing she was being, but knowing that she remained unprotected and totally ready to be fertilized by daddy’s cum, Minju was willing to sacrifice that argument.

The day at the spa was wonderful: a massage, manicure, pedicure, steam…facial…the works. Minju had even spent a little of the money on a full wax, though she usually kept it that way for her dad anyway. She just wanted to be as beautiful as possible for him that night.

Near the spa was one of Minju’s favorite stores. It was expensive, but her dad gave her way too much money anyway. Like the rest of the day had gone, she found the perfect dress in only a few minutes. Thankfully, it was much less than he had given her, probably because the dress was well… a little slutty, thought Minju. With a part of what was left, Minju bought heels and the cutest, set of bra and panties she could find.

As seven o'clock approached, Minju grew more and more anxious. She hadn’t seen her dad all day, not after she returned from the spa or in the hours leading up to their date. The eighteen-year-old was meticulous in getting ready, putting on her make-up, getting dressed. As she slid on the new underwear, Minju could feel how much wetter and warmer her inner thighs had grown anticipating the night.

Jae finally heard the click of heels upstairs at about a quarter after seven. Somehow, the little minx managed to be late given literally hours and hours to get ready. But then he saw her.

First, his eyes found the source of the clicking:

Heels, not too tall, black and slim with her freshly manicured toes peeking out from an open-toed front. Minju even had pretty feet. No surprise there.

Then her legs:

Smooth, tan and looking like they’d been bathed in moisturizer all day. Absolutely beautiful.

Of course, they went on forever, reaching the bottom of her dress far too high for a night out with dad:

The dress was enough to drop Jae’s jaw. It hugged her without a fold or a wrinkle or an inch more fabric than necessary. It was short, but not enough to make his fatherly instinct send her back upstairs to change, or maybe that wasn’t his fatherly instinct…, The cups of the dress that covered what he longed to see underneath were blue, forming a wide neckline despite thin straps that hung on to her outer shoulder. The brilliant blue color made its way down the center of the dress on front and back, with black hugging her hips.

But it was underneath that floored him most. Minju’s skin positively glowed. It didn’t seem possible, but she was more beautiful than he had left her that morning or any one before. Her perfect breasts were thrust up into the plunging neckline, so plump he wanted to bury his face in them and leave a mark from sucking on her beautiful skin.

But it was her face that finally did him in:

Minju had seen him goggling her; it was what she wanted all day. She had the prettiest smile from ear to ear. Gleaming white teeth, a deep pink lipstick and light makeup that looked applied by a professional.

“Minju,” Jae finally managed to speak as she descended the last few steps, “I have never seen a more beautiful woman in all my life.”

Her smile only got wider, and as she carefully took the last step to her dad’s level, her knee felt weak from accepting his praise. Her black, metal earrings dangled as she turned the corner and her luscious brown hair swayed to reveal them. If Minju hadn’t reached out for her dad’s hand he might have passed out altogether.

Minju ran a hand inside her father’s jacket. She had noticed immediately how great he looked in a close-fitting gray jacket and pants. His shirt looked expensive and fit him so well: a handsome, white and slim fitting button up. Minju couldn’t believe she was going on her first real date with a real man as handsome as her father.

“Do you feel that,” Minju asked, taking her father’s hand and placing it right above the exposed half of her breast, “my heart is beating so fast daddy, I don’t know why you make me so nervous.”

Jae almost forgot to respond after feeling the swell of her teenage chest against the side of his hand, “Oh honey,” he managed, “it’s me who should be nervous. People are going to wonder what a girl who looks like she stepped out of one of those fashion magazines is doing with an old guy like me.

Again Minju’s heart flipped over in her chest, "DAAAAAD! I wish I could tell you how many times my friends have said they want to bang you. In that jacket….ohhh,” she gasped, continuing to rub his chest and playing with a button right between his big chest muscles, “Are you sure I shouldn’t pull this dress up a little and you can fuck me over the table there the way you like?”

Of course that gave Jae an instant erection, but they’d waited too long.

“No,” he said strongly, “we are going out to the car.”

Minju could tell it took him a lot of strength to deny her. Even the thought of having her father inside her was making her neglected pussy tingle with desire. But she appeased him, walking outside to a beautiful summer evening, glad she wouldn’t need a jacket.

The car was gorgeous: not just any towncar but a brand new luxury vehicle with soft leather seats and music and a delicious champagne her dad poured her after speaking quietly with the driver. During the most memorable car ride Minju had ever taken, she told Jae all about her day. He couldn’t help but feel aroused when she talked about how often she was naked. He hadn’t seen her like that in a few days and he had to pinch himself to respect her and not push the straps of her dress hungrily down over her shoulders.

“Daddy,” she asked sweetly, “how long are you going to make me wait?”

“Come on Minju’, don’t make this harder on me,” he begged, “it’s time I treated you like a real girlfriend, no…. better. Soon enough we can be more than that,”

Minju swooned, “well, how about tonight… I’m just 'yours’?” she asked.

“I’d love that.” he agreed.

More and more, Minju was becoming everything he ever wanted. Beautiful, adventurous, happy, and willing to give herself wholly into a relationship. Eun-ju would have never agreed to go to an undisclosed location, or even put as much effort into getting ready. Where Minju was happy just to be with her dad for now, Eun-ju would have been constantly pushing for a label on the relationship or the next big step. He was still having trouble coping with the lie that had gotten them through the last twenty-some years, but with Minju at his side it seemed so much easier to bear.

“NO. WAY.” Minju proclaimed, looking out the window and up at the building as they were coming to a stop. She looked back at him, looking for an explanation. The brand new building downtown… the one with the restaurant at the very top that took some five or six weeks to get a reservation for.

Jae just smiled.

“DAD!” She cried. Only famous people went there; or at least that’s what her friends said.

Still, he smiled back. He wasn’t royalty or anything, he’d just helped out the owner of the restaurant by introducing him to the building owners when the plans were still confidential. It really was just a coincidence, but the owner had offered that he call any time he wanted a table and he could expect the best service available. Jae might have cashed in for his anniversary with Eun-ju, but this was so much better.

She was so enamored, looking up at the clear wall of glass that extended multiple stories high for the main entrance that she didn’t even notice her dad get out and come around to her door.

“For you Minju,” he said, offering his hand for help stepping out of the car, “anything.”

Minju felt like she was in a movie, all the way up to the top floor where the restaurant was.

“Go ahead, push the button,” Jae said, trying to snap her out of the daydreamy state she’d been in. Minju had to loosen the tight grip she had on her father’s arm just to reach the button, and pushing it gave her just as much satisfaction as when she was a little kid.

“Mr. Fiorella!” A man in an incredibly expensive suit said as he spotted them walking up to the hostess. Minju hadn’t ever heard their name pronounced by someone who was actually Italian.

“So good to see you again Jae,” he said with that thick accent, stopping quite dramatically when he saw Minju and smacking his foot on the ground. “And who…is…this beauty on your arm?”

“This is m…”

“Hi I’m Minju, Jae’s daughter,” she interjected. Jae forgot for a moment that Minju was a forward, independent girl. With Eun-ju, he always had to tote her around. “I’m so sorry my dad hasn’t told me about you, but what’s your name?”

“Jae, I’m hurt!” The man feigned. “My name is Marco D'Agosto and this is my restaurant,” he said motioning with his hand, “though tonight. bella, it is yours.”

With that, Marco bent and kissed Minju’s hand. Jae might have been jealous if he didn’t know Marco so well. They’d met in Italy many years ago when he and his wife were vacationing and she’d gone to bed far too early as usual. They’d met out on the piazza and Marco had taken Jae all around the city, introducing him to women and clubs and hot spots he’d never have seen otherwise, always at night when his wife chickened out. Jae flown over the Atlantic many times to visit him since and he, thankfully, never changed. Marco was always affectionate with women but ultimately harmless.

Leading them to the table, Marco was probably relaying a similar story to Minju as Jae trailed behind. No complaint from him, because Minju’s dress was equally stunning from the back. Minju did catch him checking her out, biting her lip and squinting at him when she looked back and then returned to Marco’s story.

Finally, he opened two large doors that led out to a private balcony. It was tucked into the side of the building to protect from the wind, but despite being the most beautiful part of the restaurant, empty. The other tables were set with candles that were obviously centered around their table

“Marco, you didn’t hold this for us did you?” Jae asked

“Of course I did,” Marco said, “It’s just one night, and I couldn’t help myself, I owe you everything Giovanni!”

“You shouldn’t have,” said Jae, “I won’t complain any more, but only this time, you promise? Only because this is for Minju.”

“Yes sir,” he said, exaggerating and turning so Minju could see his fingers crossed behind his back. “I’ll send a waiter with our favorite wine from back home, capice?”

“Marco,” Minju’s dad said, “thank you, truly.”

Jae watched Minju blow his old friend a kiss as she sat down. She was so proper and graceful, Jae knew she could fit in anywhere. As he took his own seat, Minju was looking all around her and then over the railing just next to their table. When her eyes found her dad’s she leaned in as close as possible and said, not too quietly:

“I want to fuck you so bad right now.”

Jae smiled and then darted his eyes back and forth, “Minju! Careful!”

“What?” she said, “I think Marco would tell his guests to look away if you asked him to,”

“Maybe,” Jae laughed. He had obviously impressed her.

Before the wine came, Minju made him tell her everything about Marco and how the hell he’d gotten in such high regard with the interesting man. And in no time, they’d gone through a bottle of wine. Nobody dared ask Minju her age, eighteen-year-olds simply didn’t look as beautiful as she did that night.

“Daddy,” she said sweetly, feeling emboldened by the wine, “it’s going to work this time. We are going to get pregnant, I know it, maybe tonight.”

She took another swig of wine, “I think I have mom under control for now, but I don’t know what we’ll do once I miss my first period.”

“Does that scare you baby?” Jae asked.

“No, no!” Minju assured him, “I just didn’t plan that far.”

“It’s okay Minju,” Jae told his troubled daughter, “I think I’ve got that figured out.”

“Really?” She asked with a mix of excitement and hesitation.

“Well I still really want you to go to school, and I you do too, right?” Jae said, watching his daughter nod. “And we’ve got plenty of schools to choose from since you got in to so many.”

“What if we picked our favorite city out of them and moved there?”

“You’d do that…for me?” She asked, completely shocked.

“Minju, I told you, I’m not leaving your side, ever. It’s still your choice, we could forget the whole thing and wait until you’re done with school. I’ll still want you to have our baby, I know it.”

Minju looked mad, “Are you changing your mind Dad?” she exclaimed

“Shhhh,” he said, watching her grit her teeth, “No, I have been imagining how beautiful you are going to look and thinking non-stop about getting you pregnant since we first talked about it on vacation and honestly quite a bit before that”

Her look softened.

“I want to make a baby with you more than anything, I just want to do it right by you.”

Minju looked embarrassed for overreacting. It was hard to keep all her strong feelings at bay. “No daddy, I think you’re idea is great. I could go to school for at least a semester, have the baby and then go back,”

“I’ll make sure you have plenty of time to do that, we can hire help, I can work from home…” Jae said, “I don’t really have to work right now, just need to keep myself busy.”

“I can keep you busy dad,” Minju flirted.

“I know you can Minju’, so we can make all of these decisions together once we move. But we’ll have to keep everything a secret until its done.”

Minju agreed, knowing there was still more plans to be made. But in a way, the evening felt like they were finally a real couple, with real plans to be together, not just slinking around when her mother was asleep.

Dinner was incredible, even better than Minju expected. They talked about everything and nothing as usual, both father and daughter felt a connection unlike any they’d experienced before. Whether it was talking about music or the way Minju had slipped out of a shoe and was gently rubbing his calf They’d gone through two bottles of wine in a few hours, and Minju was finding that it made her so horny she couldn’t take it.

“Daddy, I really want you,” she whispered too loud, “will you take me home?”

“Just one more thing honey,” Jae promised, hearing his restless daughter groan in frustration.

Marco came out a few minutes later. She’d seen them talking quietly when Jae went to the bathroom.

“Ms. Fiorella, would you please take my arm?” Marco asked, “I’d like to show you to dessert.”

Minju was slightly drunk and totally confused. Jae had to laugh that Marco would try to get close to his daughter one more time before they left, but he could see that the Italian was only making things better for him. Minju obviously wanted to be closer to her dad at that moment, so she wanted him all the more.

Marco took them through the kitchen, past his private office and finally to a staircase that shouldn’t have existed. A very anxious Minju had thought for sure they were on the top floor.

“This is a place I reserve for the most private of occasions,” Marco said, “your dad said you’d love to see it.”

Minju carefully took each step of the sheek-looking staircase one at a time. When they reached the top, Marco had to leave her in the darkness of the upper corridor. Minju felt her dad move in close behind her, touching her softly on the backside, but not so much as to make his intentions obvious to Marco. Ahead of them, Marco threw open a door and revealed the uppermost terrace.

It was breathtaking.

A better view, unbelievably, than that below. In the middle of some of the most comfortable looking, cream-colored, outdoor sofas and other beautiful dining furniture there was a huge, circular stone fireplace blazing with flame. Like below, the walls and ceiling had been erected to protect about half of the terrace from wind. Warm, cedar slats ran in concentric circles until the room gave way to the beautiful night sky.

Seeing she didn’t need to be explained the importance of this place, Marco excused himself saying, “your dad said you had some important decisions to make, I’ll make sure nobody interrupts you.” and closed the door behind him.

What her dad had said to Marco Minju didn’t know, but she didn’t need to. She slowly wandered out into the middle of the open-ended room and turned to face her dad.

“I already made my decision daddy,” she said with a wonderfully seductive look, “what now?”

Jae didn’t have an answer for her. He saw in his daughter’s eyes that she could wait no more, and so he stood silently waiting for her next move.

With that, she pushed the shoulder of her dress off.

And then the other.

Two tiny straps remained. Jae was dying to see what they led to.

“You’ve been mean daddy,” she said, “getting me all riled up and making me wait.”

He wanted to bull-rush her, rip her dress to shreds and make her scream at the top of her lungs, but he didn’t. He couldn’t move, and he couldn’t look away.

“But I’ve been mean too,” she said, stepping down from one shoe.

“Making YOU wait,” she kicked the other shoe off her foot and it slid about half the distance to her dad.

“Dressing like this,” she whispered, maneuvering her arm under one of the shoulders of the dress.

“Hoping you’ll look,” she said, darting her eyes to his,

“But knowing you can’t touch,” finally the other strap.

And then he watched, completely mesmerized, as Minju grabbed the bottom of the dress and expertly wiggled and shimmied her way out of it. Inch by inch, the fabric followed her hands down her legs.

First it gave way to the tops of a black, push up bra. More of her young breasts showed above the supportive cups than within, each of which were made of black lace covering a pink colored patch of fabric which held her wonderful globes in place. When it cleared her bra, her breasts were allowed to expand to full size, unburdened by the tight dress. Jae didn’t believe they could get bigger, but they did. The thought made him smile as Minju turned sideways so he could watch her bend to pull the dress the rest of the way down.

It finally gave way to her bottoms, and boy was it worth the wait. A tiny pair of pink lace panties hugged her hips, with an inch or so of transparent fabric like a skirt hung loosely from the hem. Watching her shimmy to finally exit the dress, with the starry, black sky and fire behind her, Minju was a goddess. When she stood up and saw her dad could not move or speak, she called to him, with an arm outstretched.

“It’s okay daddy, you can touch me now.”

Jae walked, entranced, toward the clasping and unclasping hand of his nearly-naked teenage daughter. That reality had still not set in. Perhaps he hoped it never would. Even when they finally settled down, had children and shared the love of a long and fulfilling life, it would still be a fantasy that Jae had been allowed to live out of sheer luck.

When their hands connected, the trance was over. Touching Minju activated his love, lust and everything he’d had to hold back since over a week before.

He grabbed Minju’s hips in his hands, turning her and pulling her right against him. Minju immediately went for his jacket. She pushed it off his shoulders and was unbuttoning his shirt before the gray coat fell to the floor. Then his pants; it all came off and Jae stood there on the floor of the terrace ready to give his daughter what they both wanted.

He picked her up under the arms and threw her backward. Minju didn’t even know there was a couch behind her until she landed with a soft thud. And then her dad was on her. He’d managed to get his socks and shoes off before she could even sit up to see him.

She was only able to sit straight for a second before he grabbed at her leg like an animal and tugged it so she was on her back again. He kissed from her ankle to her knee, and up her wonderful, smooth thigh. “Oh god dad,” Minju gasped as she felt him get close to her pussy.

He pulled again, sliding Minju further so her arms went over her head and her face was nearer to his. Jae kissed her belly button, her flawless abs and up to the breasts he’d been dying to touch all night.

Minju moaned as he took a huge mouthful of her left breast and bit gently. She loved when he bit her.

Finally, Jae made it up her chest, past her collarbone, neck and to the side of her face. Minju turned needily, he was making her work for a kiss on the lips.

Minju had been waiting too long. She’d been dreaming of this moment since, well, since a second after the last time they’d had sex. But certainly all day at the spa she’d known this was coming. A few feet away, the flames cast flickering heat in their direction, but it was nothing compared to the fiery attraction between them. The teenager grabbed ahold of her father’s cock through his underwear.

“Daddy please,” she begged, pushing him from the nape of her neck where he’d been kissing and sucking her into a frenzy. “please don’t make me wait any longer,” He forced his pelvis against hers, “pleAASEEEE!” she cried, feeling his cock mash against her clit.

Jae didn’t want to wait any longer either. In seconds he’d grabbed her adorable panties from her thin waist and tugged them forcefully off. Once again Minju felt intimidated and dominated; he did the same with her bra.

Minju did her part and pushed his boxers down so that his huge cock sprung free. Minju hadn’t felt it inside her in too long, but as usual it looked too big to actually fit in her tiny body. But judging by the way Minju’s hips were lifting off the cushion and her eyes were wide with overflowing desire, she was ready to try.

Jae reached down and directed his tip to her opening. Minju took a deep breath in anticipation.

But he only allowed it to part her lips, rubbing it up her slit and then wiggling back and forth oh her clit. The teenager twitched as she felt her father’s head at her most sensitive spot, but it wasn’t enough. A few more seconds of her uncontrollable spasming, getting so wet she was almost in tears, and she grabbed him on his side until her father winced in pain.

“Stop it!” she yelled, mustering every bit of composure she could find, “Fuck me daddy…now.”

That’s when he made her scream. Jae lined up with his daughter’s tunnel, grabbed both of her hips and sank into her in one, long, slow, stroke. No matter how long he took, Jae was simply too big for his little girl to keep her howl at bay.

“DAAAaaaaaaaadyyyy, ooooooooooooouuuuwhhhhhhhhh” She bawled.

That was all it took, as soon as Minju felt her father’s hips come in contact with her own, she dug her nails into his back on both sides. Her abs tensed, her eyes shut tight, and her legs pulled him what little there was left to go. Jae had never heard of it happening, but there was his little girl, cumming after one thrust inside her tiny pussy and screaming for daddy as she did.

The wine was the only thing that saved him. If Jae hadn’t drank more than a bottle to keep his little girl from getting too drunk, he’d be filling up his youngest’s quim with semen after one thrust. But they were both lucky. As soon as Jae could feel his little girl’s walls loosening, he urged an inch at a time in and out. Minju wasn’t done cumming, and when he made it about half way out after three or four thrusts, she was right back at it.

“Stop daddy….oh godd….I can’t bre….I can’t…ughhh,…. PLEAAAAAASSE!”

He made it almost all the way out before driving back in, connecting firmly against Minju’s pelvis and watching her make faces she couldn’t control. Again her walls squeezed him and Minju begged for mercy.

“Daddy…ohhhhfuck…..Ughehhh” she choked, “Not again…. uhhhhhhh….. ohNo… Daddyyyyyy!”

He had promised her this, that he would fuck her until she screamed; hard and fast until she couldn’t take it anymore. When her walls gripped him so tight that he knew he would hurt her if he tried to go in and out again, he stayed planted in Minju’s tunnel.

For a moment, it looked like Minju went unconscious. Her back was arched and her neck craned while she came on her father’s cock, and then she went limp with him buried inside.

Naked as the day she was born, her quim filled with her father’s cock and overcome by her orgasm, Minju could be no more perfect. As her eyes came back into view, and she was able to support her head, Minju had to remember where she was. When she felt how full her pussy was, she remembered completely.

“Dad,” she whispered as she came around, “I’ve never felt anything like that before.”

Jae smiled back at her, pushing hair behind her ear and cupping her cheek in his hand. She mewled into it. Then she surprised him by smacking his big shoulder.

“I asked you… no I begged you to stop!” She said, sounding legitimately upset.

“I know you did sweetie,” Jae replied, “but then you wouldn’t have had another orgasm, and I wouldn’t have gotten to watch.”

“But it hurt daddy,” she pouted childishly, “I couldn’t control my body.”

“That’s the best part Minju, next time just let it happen, don’t fight it.”

Minju nodded. Looking down, she saw that she had apparently made a bit of a mess on the cushion with the fluids her body had released when her dad was making her cum. “Oops,” Minju said with a shrug.

“It’s okay honey, we can flip it over when we’re done.”

Minju, who had finally gotten time to recover, liked hearing her father say “when we’re done.” She couldn’t believe that she’d cum so soon, and her dad hadn’t even gotten close to her favorite part. If they were going to get pregnant tonight, she was going to have to fuck him again and again until he didn’t have any more to give her.

“How do you want me now daddy?” She asked with the most innocent look she could drum up.

“Remember the day I left, how you rode me in the car at the airport?” Jae asked

“Uh huh,” said Minju excitedly, happy to hear that he liked it.

“Will you do that again for me sweetheart?”

“Uh huh,” repeated Minju.

Jae easily flipped the hundred-or-so pound teen on top of him, causing her to moan as her father’s cock shifted inside her.

When Minju’s knees came to the sofa, she was all ready to go.

Now that she was in control, it was Minju’s turn to tease her dad.

“Tell me what you want daddy,” Minju directed, lifting her hips so only his head remained inside.

“Oh,” he said, wide-eyed, “we’re gonna do THIS now?”

“You started it,” Minju argued, “say it.”

“Fuck me Minju,” he said, not sounding like he wanted to mess around. Minju raised her eyebrows like she wanted him to say something else.

“Be a good girl Minju,” Jae said grabbing her hips, “and take my cock back inside you.”

He tried to push her down, but she only allowed a fraction of an inch more into her sweet little puss. He had to have her, but he knew it wouldn’t be fair if he didn’t let her have her fun.

“Bad girl,” Minju corrected him, “I’m not your good girl anymore dad,”

“Okay Minju. Fuck your dad like the bad daughter you are.”

She allowed a whole inch, but nothing more. When Jae tried to drive his hips up, she lifted.

“I’m not fucking around Minju, you lower that little ass on me now.”

One more inch. Watching her face, Jae could see she didn’t have much resistance left.“

"Fuck your dad you naughty little tease,” Jae begged her.

That did it. Minju sank all the way onto him and both Minju and her father moaned aloud when they felt him bottom out. Minju now knew what her dad’s cock felt like against her cervix, and it was definitely there.

She didn’t need any more encouragement. With her mouth open from the incredible pleasure, Minju looked into her dad’s eyes and lifted her hips back up. When his tip was about to pop out, Minju dropped like a stone to bury her father inside again.

“Oh fuck Minju, you are so tight.”

“Tighter than mom?” Minju asked, moving her hips up and down again.

“Ugh yess…so much tighter.”

Minju started to pick up speed, it was a lot of effort to climb the whole length of his cock and bury it again, and her little pussy could only take so much. Minju felt like she might be close to cumming again.

“Oh dad…fuck” she cooed as her clit touched the base of his cock, “your penis is so…fucking…big daddy. I can’t believe it fits.”

“Keep going honey,” Jae encouraged, “you are doing so good.”

Minju looked so small on top of him. His little girl, with her developed breasts bouncing up and down with each thrust, her core writhing as she flexed to lift and release. He’d raised her, taught her right from wrong, loved her every step of the way and now she was loving him back with cries of passion as his cock filled her again and again. She would never be more beautiful.

“I love you baby,” he said, palming her breasts in one hand and her hip in the other.

Minju moaned as his thumb pressed into her lower abdomen.

“I love you too dad,” she whispered over labored breaths and a pause in her quiet moaning.

“I’m ready daddy… unhhh fuck…. I don’t want to wait anymore.”

Jae knew what she meant but he let her go on.

“I want your cum in me….ohh daaaad.” she was trying hard to keep her composure as her own words made her weak with wantonness

“No birth control… no condom…ohhhhpleaaase… will you?”

“What honey?” Jae bated.

“Get me pregnant daddy, cum inside me!”

It’s what they’d both wanted. It’s what they’d both been waiting for. Looking at his baby girl atop him, Jae knew it was time.

He grabbed her hips when she’d planted him all the way inside and held her there. Picking her up without any trouble, he set her on her back and laid on top of her. He wanted to be pressed against her when it happened.

“Are you ready sweetie?”

“Uh huh,” whimpered Minju. “Please daddy, cum in my pussy.”

Withdrawing from his daughter, Jae knew it wouldn’t take long. As he sank back inside her, Minju moaned loudly. She was ready to cum too.

“Fuck daddy,” Minju called, tears formed in her eyes she wanted him so bad. Minju knew this was it. On the tallest building, in a secret place, with only the stars to witness it, Minju was going to get pregnant.

Her father began to grunt, He couldn’t control himself either and Minju loved it.

“Oh daad…fuck meee.”

“Mi…Minju…oh Minju,” he called, thrusting into his daughter, hips moving of their own volition.

He drove into her, feeling her tiny body accept him into his warm embrace. He’d hugged her a thousand times. On her way out to school, after her dance performances, when she came home from school and hugged him so tight because she missed him. Feeling her eighteen-year-old pussy squeeze him, he knew this is what it had all been leading to.

Again he buried his entire length into Minju’s tunnel. “Daaadyy,” she screamed. She’d said it a thousand times before. When he touched her neck after putting his hand in the cooler, when she wanted something from the mall, when he’d held her when something went wrong at school. Feeling her wonderful father’s cock push into her and make her feel things she didn’t know she could, Minju knew she was always meant to call out to him like this.

“Ughh..” Minju twitched, she couldn’t hold back any longer when his cock filled her up again. “Daad I’m….mnnhhhh… Daaady I’m gonna….” He shoved into her enough times that she simply couldn’t speak.

Jae got lost for a moment, and when he opened his eyes, Minju only had the strength to give him one, last, puppy-dog, beautiful gaze before her head rolled back and she cried out.

It was immediate. Her legs locked, her fingers clenched and her young pussy gripped her father’s cock like he’d never felt before. It pulled at him, begging, like his daughter, to fill her with cum.

There was no holding back. What little he could to withdraw from Minju as she leg-locked him, Jae did. One last, fateful time, he pushed into Minju’s depths and felt the first chill of release.

As the first jet of sperm entered Minju’s pussy, she spasmed, clamping tighter on her father and urging his hips even more forcefully deep. Feeling the pressure of a week’s wait flood her unprotected womb, both Minju and her father believed that the very first spurt would be the one that assured her pregnancy.

But that didn’t stop Jae continuing to pump into his young daughter. Even through howls of pleasure and lustful grasps of her hands, Minju was intimately aware of what was happening deep in her quivering tunnel. Her father’s head buried as deep as it could go, she felt his cock throb each time before another warm gush flooded her womb.

“Ohfuuuu….daaaadyyy…don’t stop” Minju gasped, “Keep cumming in me…. unhhh,,, please daad!”

He couldn’t stop. Jae watched his beautiful daughter’s body spasm almost at the same pace as his cock emitting torrents of the cum he hoped would get her pregnant. Her youthful breasts mashed against his chest to the rhythm of her gasps for air, and all the while he continued urging his hips against her soft mound.

Tears were welling and then toppling Minju’s flushed cheeks. She could feel her insides completely charged with her father’s spunk, and nothing made her happier. She wondered if her father was so big that his penis touched all the way past her cervix. She didn’t think that was possible, but her certainly must be close. Anything that put his freshly deposited sperm closer to her fertile, young womb.

Locked together at the hips in beautiful incest, father and daughter began to regain their wits. Jae could hear the flicker of the fire behind him. When Minju’s eyes finally opened in his direction, the flames lit her blue irises and Jae was unable to look away. They didn’t move for minutes at a time, maybe more, maybe less. A couple of times, Minju’s insides pulsed with the defiant remainder of her climax, causing Minju to gasp again and show her father an uncontrollable and adorable look. Even then, it seemed Jae had a little more cum left to spill into her.

They held on tightly and listened to each other’s breath regularise. Neither Minju or Jae felt any need to speak or move an inch. Minju felt her recently virgin opening becoming a bit sore after the romp she’d just sustained, but she was far too happy to feel her father buried inside to ask for relief.

'Was she in a dream?’ Minju thought as she looked out at the night sky and the fire-lit walls that led to it. Had she really just experienced the best sex of her young life, with her loving father, perhaps become pregnant and done it all in the most beautiful spot atop the tallest building in the city? It couldn’t be real, and Minju couldn’t help continuing to tear up.

“What’s the matter Minju’?” Jae asked, leaning back to look at his daughter’s face. She appeared to be crying and Jae was worried he’d done something wrong.

Minju pushed her cheek into her father’s hand as he held her face, “Oh no, nothing’s wrong Daddy.”

“Then what honey, why the tears?”

“I’m sorry, I’m just being silly and emotional, I can’t help it.” Minju apologized. “I’m just so happy.”

She looked so beautiful, even with the wet streaks on each cheek. The glow that he’d seen as she walked down the stairs at home before their date was even more present now. Jae leaned in to kiss her neck, then her chin, then the salty sweet spot where a tear had rolled down her cheek. Minju swooned to be receiving such wonderful attention from her father.

“You gave me the best day of my life dad,” she assured him, “the spa, the dinner, this place…and you.”

Jae smiled back at her appreciatively.

“I only hope I can give you something too” Minju said nervously.

“Honey,” Jae assured her, “you’ve already given me everything I could ever want. A man like me doesn’t deserve someone as beautiful inside as you are out.”

“Don’t say that Daddy, you don’t only deserve me, you deserve a baby with me too. I really hope I can give you one.”

“This time Minju,” Jae reasoned, “I think we did it.”

“Really daddy?” His little girl said with wide, passionate eyes, “You really think I could be pregnant this time?”

He’d never confirmed it for her before, knowing that he would be foolish to get her hopes up. But it really felt like this was the time. Jae couldn’t have cum more inside his teenage daughter, and it couldn’t have been a better time in her fertility cycle for one of the hundreds of millions of sperm cells he’d released inside his daughter to find her egg. No matter what others thought, Minju’s pure hopefulness and excitement to be pregnant shattered the barriers of right and wrong.

“We won’t know for a while Minju, but I think this could be it. What do you think?”

Minju thought hard, with her cue brow furrowed and her mouth tweaked to the side. “I guess I don’t know for sure either, but I know you came SO MUCH! I could literally feel it more than any of the times before.” She was so bubbly Jae could feel his heart throb for her.

“Look!” Minju directed, rotating her hips to the side and pushing her father’s pelvis so he began to slide out. Jae whined as his still-hard manhood was deprived the feeling of his daughter’s warmth, inch by inch.

Placing her hand just below her opening, Minju’s eyes grew wider as she watched her father’s tip revealed. Tight as she was, when Jae finally pulled the last inch out, her pussy fought him and there was the faintest pop. Her little tunnel closed up as quickly as it had been pried open, and there was at least a second before they saw it.

Pure white spunk peered between her taut, pink lips. It grew and grew, as her snug, eighteen-year-old pussy fought to return to its incredible tightness.

“See daddy!” She exclaimed, “I knew it, look how much you came in my pussy!”

As it continued to squeeze out, Minju gasped. She was glad she held her hand there or it would have gotten on the nice restaurant owner’s couch.

“Ohhhhmyyygod Dad!” She almost sounded like she was scolding him, “Look how much you came in your OWN DAUGHTER… such a bad daddy!”

Her eyes flitted between her father’s and the overfilled little pussy he’d created. Jae could tell she was just teasing; she was enjoying this way too much to be upset. He knew that for sure a second later. When Minju decided there was not much less to spill out, she took the fingers that she used to trap the excess and pushed them, spilled cum and all, back into her aching opening. Watching her concentrate hard on pushing it all back inside, Jae collapsed on the couch beside her, overwhelmed.

“Will you put my panties back on daddy?” Minju asked sweetly, “I wanna keep it all in.”

He wasn’t sure it would work, but Jae was certainly willing to try. He admired the pretty pair of underwear that Minju had picked out just for him as he maneuvered them over his daughter’s gorgeous legs. Minju pulled them on tight and pushed one little finger on her opening until she was satisfied that she’d done her best.

Boy was she a sight to see. So young, so beautiful and glowing…Jae’s eighteen-year-old daughter was topless and had that incredible, freshly-fucked look he’d only known in his teens. Seeing her now, he recognized every little curve and bone in her body that he’d seen develop as she’d grown up. Jae was overjoyed now to be seeing them without clothing; she looked best that way.

He couldn’t believe the little girl he’d raised since birth had grown so beautiful. Her breasts: so perky and youthful… her hips: so lithe and thin, her midsection: toned and with the definition only a woman could bear. Soon he hoped for her stomach to be changing as she bore his child.

Minju could feel her father’s eyes on her. There was something so wonderful about the way Minju and her father could be in each other’s presence without saying a word and still feel like they were growing in love.

“I love the way you look at me daddy,” she said, catching his attention.

“I can’t help myself Minju, when did my daughter become so beautiful?”

“Ughhh!” Minju scoffed, “I always was DAD! I just didn’t want to tempt you until I turned eighteen.”

“Of course you’re right honey,” Jae said, letting Minju curl up next to him and feeling her smooth legs against his. His daughter was right, if he thought truthfully, Minju had started developing when she entered her teens. He didn’t remember her breasts being as full as they were now, but she always had trouble with boys at school harassing her. He was glad he didn’t contribute then, and now he was reaping the benefits in full.

“But I really mean it dad, this was the best night ever.” She squirmed up to give him a kiss, whispering before she closed the gap between them,, “Thank you so much.”

The kissed for a long time, not aggressively, not lustfully, just gentle and heavy with emotion. Jae’s fingers caressed his baby’s side and her skin raised with tiny goose bumps when he tickled her too lightly. He would simply never tire of holding his amazing daughter in his arms. Alone with each other, they could be unburdened by judgment and morality. As their lips touched and tongues entwined, they could be simply in love.

“Will you take me home daddy?” Minju asked after they’d laid naked for long enough.

Jae rubbed his hand from her wet little panties all the way up and across her perfect breasts. He knew he would get a chance to do so again soon, but he simply didn’t want to be away from her wonderfully naked form for a second if he didn’t have to. Minju smiled as she felt his need by the warmth of his palms on her.

“Absolutely baby, let’s get your clothes back on.”

Helping the teenager back into her tight, blue and black dress was surprisingly fun. She could have done it herself, but Minju didn’t want her father’s hands far from her either. He got to tuck each of her plump globes into her delicate bra, and then hold her steady as she wiggled to stretch the dress over her body once more. Jae growled with frustration when Minju intentionally thrust her hips back and his cock was reminded not to fully deflate.

They checked around for evidence of their time on the terrace before walking over to the railing and looking out over the city. It was the perfect moment; Minju’s lips buzzed at the touch of her father’s, and the breeze rushed through her soft brown hair. Only the dark, impartial skyline was witness to the incredible love both shared and consummated on the hideaway rooftop. And as Jae and his daughter held each other close, they both dreamed that someday they would look back and remember the beautiful place where Minju conceived her father’s child.

Neither of them wanted to leave, but when it was time Minju held her father’s hand and he led her out. Marco showered them with thanks for visiting, kissed Minju’s hand again and Jae and his baby embraced in silence the entire elevator ride back to solid ground.

The way home was mostly quiet. Minju was tired; the wine had finally gotten to her. Plus, she’d always gotten sleepy on car rides home at night. For years, Jae had carried his daughter to her bed after a long night; it appeared this night would be no different.

As the car finally rolled to a stop and Jae turned to step out and circle around the car for his daughter’s door, Minju grabbed his shoulder.

“Can we stay,” the sleepy teenager asked, “just a little longer daddy?”

Even though they were more or less free to be open with each other around the house now, Minju was reluctant to end their date. She was a little worn out by their earlier rooftop tryst, but she wanted her father one more time before they ended the night.

“I want you inside me one more time,” she whispered.

With that, Jae spoke a few words to the driver and then got back in the car. Minju straddled her dad as soon as he was settled. He hadn’t even seen her take off her tiny panties, but he knew she wasn’t wearing them as soon as his tip came back in contact with his daughter’s pussy.

It was like he was back in highschool, having sex in the back of the car. Just like back then, he had a youthful little teen perched on his lap, having sex for the first time in the back seat. Unlike then, she was far more beautiful than any girl he’d ever slept with, and it wasn’t only because Minju was his daughter. Jae was as much in heaven as his adorable, bouncing teenager while she rode him for the second time that night.

He liked fucking her in the tight-fitting dress he’d been admiring all night. It felt good in his hands as he grasped her tightly at the waist where it was bunched up. As they joined at the hips over and over, Jae’s thrusts stronger and more deliberate, the tryst felt hasty and lustful, like neither of them was in full control of their actions and they simply needed each other.

And Minju whimpered when she felt her daddy pumping his plentiful sperm into her for the second time that night. She had smiled widely as he prepared to, hearing him grunt involuntarily and call out her name as she rode him.

For a reason Minju would probably never know, the warm gush of her father’s cum was a trigger for her. All she had to do was clamp her hips down firmly on him so he was buried as far in her pussy as he could be, and when she felt the throb of his penis before it released, she knew to prepare to climax herself. A small wiggle of her hips so that her clit rubbed against the base of her father’s cock would send Minju into a fit of gasping, shuddering and pleasure that seemed to reach every part of her body.

“Does sex always feel like that Daddy?” Minju asked, after she’d collapsed against him and caught her breath.

“Well, sex usually feels good between two people who want it, that’s why it gets people into so much trouble” Jae started. He was thinking back on his life and trying to answer her question truthfully, “but no… It rarely feels as good as it does with you Minju.”

He couldn’t see her face as she was nuzzled into her father’s neck, but Jae could sense that Minju was smiling again. She was obviously satisfied with his answer and she should be, he thought, she was only eighteen and already a goddess after only a few weeks of experience atop him.

“You ready to go in now honey?” Jae asked

“Well, I should probably get off you so your big penis isn’t still in me when we do,” she joked, “but yes, we can go in now. I got what I needed.”

Jae tipped the driver probably far more than he should have, but he was simply in too good a mood. He felt his daughter’s eyes lovingly upon him the whole way in. She was infatuated. And Jae was glad, because he felt the same way.

Eun-ju was watching television in the family room when the two lovers opened the door and stepped inside. She’d been asleep, but her giggling daughter and husband at the door had fixed that. Naturally, she was pissed that they’d had a fun night together. She probably would have been more so if she’d known where they went, but Eun-ju was far from asking about their night.

“I see you got a new dress,” Eun-ju said condescendingly as she walked into the kitchen and saw Minju and her father sharing a glass of water. “Or is it a shirt?”

Minju only scoffed. She could honestly care less what her mom had to say at that point.

In looking at the tiny blue dress and how little it covered of her young daughter’s legs, Eun-ju noticed something else. Not only was their no panty line, but between her teenager’s legs there was something that shouldn’t have been there.

“What is THAT?” Eun-ju asked, incredulous.

Both Jae and Minju froze, but Minju knew immediately what she would be pointing at.

“Oh you mean daddy’s cum?” Minju answered, as if it were nothing out of the ordinary. She looked down to see it still slowly making its way down her leg from her bottomless, bare opening.

Eun-ju’s eyes went wide.

“It’s no big deal, I’ll clean it up when I go upstairs. Don’t worry, nobody saw it but you.” The mischievous little Minju continued.

“I don’t care if anyone saw it,” Eun-ju spat, “what is it doing there?”

“Well, you got me on birth control, remember mom?” Minju lied, “I wanted to know what it felt like, so I asked daddy to cum in me in the car before we came in tonight. He did it earlier tonight too, it feels sooooo good!”

Eun-ju looked speechless, and when she did find her words, they weren’t kind.

“You stupid little slut,” she said quietly, “you can still get pregnant if he cums inside you without a condom on, how do you think we had you?”

“Ah ah ah,” Minju warned, “remember what we agreed mom, you can’t talk to me like that. If daddy wants to cum in my pussy, then I want him to too. So get used to it, because I really liked it.”

Minju turned to her dad, who had decided to stay quiet in the midst of his two bickering women. “Thanks daddy, by the way,” she said, giving him a quick kiss, “for dinner, for the wonderful night… I’m gonna go clean up, you made a mess of me!”

Once again, Minju left Jae and his wife standing in the kitchen to deal with the aftermath. For once, Eun-ju didn’t have much to say.

“Great Jae, really great. I hope you’re proud of yourself turning your daughter into a foul-mouthed skank.” Eun-ju said, breaking the silence.

“You know, she’s actually only like that around you. She was a perfect lady all night.”

“A perfect lady! Oh… and your daughter whom you came inside of, right?” Eun-ju asked sarcastically, thinking she’d get a rise out of him.

“I guess that’s true, not only a perfect lady… also an incredible lover too. I guess you really can have it all.”

“You’re disgusting,” Eun-ju said,

“Coming from my two-timing, lesbian wife, I guess I can handle that.” Jae said smugly.

With that, he walked out. Jae joined his daugher in the shower again; she looked so beautiful with water cascading over her and her teenage body all bare and clean for him to touch. His worries and frustration with his wife washed away with each passing second.

“Already daddy?” Minju asked, rubbing water from her eyes and looking down to see her dad hard and sticking right toward her.

“I guess I can’t help it honey, either we need to be apart or you need to find a way to stop being so gorgeous.”

“How about neither?” Minju said, grazing her fingers over his hard cock before wrapping her arms around him and jumping into his grasp. In seconds Jae was back inside his incredible daughter where he belonged.

They made love unabashedly in the shower, washed each other, and prepared for bed. Both were still love-sick and unwilling to be more than a few inches apart, even as they fell asleep.

“It’s been a few hours since the rooftop,” Minju turned her head and whispered as her father spooned her to sleep, “do you think it finally happened?”

Jae knew what she was asking. A long pause followed.

“I think you’re going to be a wonderful mother,” Jae promised her, and Minju fell asleep with a smile and the loving embrace of her father.

[keeryhours]

don’t say you love me - chapter one

Masterlist Series Masterlist Tag Lists

Eddie Munson x Hopper!reader, Billy Hargrove x Hopper!reader

Summary:

You get yourself into a situation with two guys you should have absolutely nothing to do with.

Warnings:

Smut (18+), unprotected and protected p in v, creampie, oral (f receiving), fingering, weed use, angst, pregnancy, love triangle

Word Count: 7.8k

A/N:

Thank you so much @feral4youu my love for the idea for this fic! Your mind never ceases to amaze me.

You loved your dad.

As far as parents go, he was the best you could ask for. Loving, kind, not too terribly strict despite being the police chief. And he really, truly did love you.

Your mother had always been distant. When she left the two of you with nothing but a note, it hadn’t even been that big of an adjustment. It had always been you and your dad, and as long as you had him, you knew things would be alright.

You’d always had the type of relationship where you felt you could tell him anything. He’d come home from a long day at work and sit in the recliner with his beer, happily listening to you tell him the latest gossip in your friend group. He would listen with full attention, every now and then a genuine reaction - raised eyebrows, “Tina did what? With Carol’s boyfriend?”

The only things he could be strict about were grades, and boys.

You weren’t allowed to date until you were 15. And even then, any guy who wanted to take you out had to go through such rigorous questioning, they felt it wasn’t worth the effort. You were popular - head cheerleader, friendly, friends with the right people, smart and head of your class, and beautiful, according to the Hawkins population. So it’s not like you had a shortage of guys willing to take you out.

But your dad was having none of that.

“You don’t understand,” your dad would say. “Men are dogs, sweetheart. You’re better off without ‘em.”

Things changed your senior year.

You properly met Eddie Munson, first of all. He was a Super Senior, on his second attempt. And it’s not like you didn’t know of him before - everyone in Hawkins knew of Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson. Most of your friends had been buying weed from him for years.

Eddie always flirted with you. He’d act like a total gentleman any time you were around, making space for you to walk, holding doors open for you, pulling your chair out when you sat down during class. When you’d go with Carol and Tina to buy, he’d single you out specifically, call you beautiful and make eye contact with only you.

“Think the Freak has a crush on you,” Carol laughed as the three of you left with your stash of weed.

“You think?” you asked with hope in your voice and butterflies in your stomach.

“Oh please, don’t tell me you’d consider it?” Tina said, her eyebrows raised.

“No, of course not,” you said. “I just…didn’t think he liked me like that.”

“He’s obsessed with you,” Carol said. “It’s obvious. He’s got a major hard-on for you.”

You blushed. “I don’t think-“

“Oh, he totally does,” Tina added. “So gross.”

“And you know Jason Carver has been into you for years-“ Carol said, but you cut her off.

“You know my dad doesn’t let me date,” you reminded her, mostly just to get off the subject of Jason.

“Which is so dumb,” Carol said. “Does he want you to die alone?”

“Probably,” you mumbled.

The next time you saw Eddie, you were both alone. You had been sitting out on the picnic table in the woods behind the school, wanting time alone. The sound of Eddie’s footsteps had startled you.

“Sorry,” Eddie said, a friendly smile on his face as he held his hands up. “Didn’t expect anyone to be out here.”

“Me either,” you said, putting your feet back on the ground to get up. “Sorry, I’ll just-“

“No, stay,” Eddie had said. “I could use the company.”

Eddie was easy to talk to. He was funny, he was nice, he made you feel comfortable. And when he ended up standing between your legs, his lips on yours and his hands gripping your bare thighs, well, you couldn’t say it was totally unexpected.

Eddie was your first, and you were his. But once you’d had sex, he was feral for it. You hooked up near constantly, any time he could pull you away without suspicion, he would.

You had been scared at first. You knew it would be a disaster if your dad found out. Not only were you not supposed to be doing anything with guys, but this was Eddie Munson. Your dad knew perfectly well what Eddie did for extra cash.

You had a few particularly close encounters. You always either rode the bus or got a ride from a friend home after school - your dad worked late and never had time to pick you up. So, you started spending your time with Eddie after practice.

“Fuck, baby,” Eddie panted from behind you. His hands gripped your hips tightly, light bruises appearing beneath his fingers. He didn’t even notice, too lost in his own pleasure he was chasing inside of you. “Always so tight. I’m gonna fuckin’ cum.”

“Please,” you gasped out. “I want you to.”

Eddie groaned, his hair tickling your back as his head dropped forward on his shoulders. His hips were rutting into you desperately, pumping his entire length into you. You could feel every ridge and vein of him - but you knew his shape by heart at this point.

He wrapped his arms around you and pulled your body flush against his own. He thrusted hard into you a few more times, then, with a cry of your name, he came, filling you deeply.

When he pulled out, he could see his cum dripping out of you. He watched with wide eyes, wanting nothing more than to dive back in, his cock already twitching back to life-

There was a banging on the side of the van.

“Munson!” your dad yelled. “I know you’re in there, and it better not be with my daughter.”

You both froze. “Fuck,” Eddie whispered, jumping into action and pulling his boxers and jeans back on. “Fuck!”

You pulled your dress back down, then searched all around you. “Eddie, where are my panties?”

“Oh, shit, sorry,” he said, a sheepish grin on his face as he pulled the thin lace material from the pocket of his jeans and handed them over. “Just thought I’d keep a souvenir.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t wipe the smile off your face as you put them back on. There was another loud banging and then Eddie threw open the back doors just as you straightened out the skirt of your dress.

Hopper looked into the vehicle, looking very pissed off. He said your name. “What are you doing in here?”

You wished you had thought of an excuse before this moment. “We have a project together.”

“Oh yeah?” Hopper didn’t sound like he believed you at all. “Where is it?”

Eddie met your eyes, like, you started this one, it’s on you. “We were just brainstorming. We just got it assigned today.”

Your dad sniffed the air- no doubt searching for the smell of weed. You just hoped he couldn’t smell the sex. When he didn’t recognize anything that set off alarms, he looked at you again. “Well, come on. I’m driving you home.”

You bid Eddie an awkward goodbye, then followed your dad to his car. You avoided looking at him as you buckled your seatbelt - you did just get your back blown out by Eddie in the back of his van, after all.

“Don’t hang out with him,” your dad said as he drove you home. “I’m serious. Anyone but him. Munson is trouble.”

“Dad, he’s not a bad guy-“

“Oh, come on,” he laughed. “I know what he does. And you’re too good to get involved in any of that. You have such a bright future, I don’t want to see it wasted on some loser.”

“Dad, Eddie is not a loser-“

“Sure,” he said. “But my point stands either way. Don’t waste time with him.”

You could still feel Eddie’s release between your thighs the whole way home.

Billy Hargrove came crashing into your life all on his own. He had come to Hawkins his senior year, taking over as the most popular guy in school. 

“He’s a fucking asshole,” Steve had said, slamming his locker shut to make the point. “Seriously. Stay far away from him.”

It seemed like that had always been a personal challenge for you.

You actually met Billy when he joined the basketball team. You spent a lot of time with the basketball guys, being head cheerleader. It was his first game with the team, and you had to admit, he impressed you. Billy was really good. Your eyes stayed glued to him the entire game, and he definitely noticed with the way he kept smirking in your direction every time he’d do something cool.

“I think Billy’s looking at you,” Chrissy leaned over and said with a huge grin on her face.

You found yourself smiling back. Sure you’d heard the rumors about Billy already, but it’s not like you needed him to fall in love with you. You were down to just have some fun.

Billy loved that about you. You caught his attention the first time he ever saw you, but once he realized you were down for no strings attached hookups? You became his favorite girl in town.

He approached you after that game as everyone was running to the showers. He was a smooth talker, that was for sure. He gave ladies man vibes the second you saw him, but hearing him talk, you could really see it. It didn’t take a lot of flirting before you were sneaking into the men’s locker room with him after everyone else had left, letting him undress you and then take you against the wall while the steam and heat surrounded you.

Billy couldn’t get enough of you once he’d had you. And once he found out you wanted to keep things secret because you were the police chief’s daughter? That made you even more irresistible.

“You’re hooking up with Billy?” Eddie said, like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Hargrove?”

“Um…yeah,” you’d said awkwardly, as Eddie was naked between your legs. He was kissing across your inner thighs, nearing where you needed him the most.

“Why?” he asked.

“Because I like him?” You sat up on your elbows, looking down at Eddie. “He’s not the worst guy ever like everyone says.”

“Only he is.” Eddie moved in and licked a stripe along your folds, making you gasp. “He’s a huge fucking asshole.”

“Well, I like him,” you defended as strongly as you could while Eddie was eating you out, groaning as he devoured you. He always knew how to get the last word of an argument.

“Why don’t you stop thinking about him and let me take care of you, baby?”

You were putting the last of your books away in your locker for the day when you felt a set of muscular arms wrap themselves around you, pulling you close into the owners’ firm body. Carol, Tina, and Chrissy gave you a mischievous look - it wasn’t hard to imagine who it was.

“Hey, baby,” Billy whispered into your ear. “What are y’doing?”

“Just getting ready to go home,” you said. “Carol’s driving me.”

Billy looked over at your friends as if noticing them for the first time. He gave them a wolfish grin before looking down at you. “Yeah, I think you’re gonna have a change of plans.”

“Oh yeah?” you laughed.

“Yeah,” he said again easily. “I think I’ll bring you home tonight.”

“Have fun, you two,” Carol said, then you watched as your friend group left you with nothing but a knowing look on each of their faces.

Billy was already kissing down your neck, his large hands sliding beneath the hem of your cheer skirt. “Need you so bad.”

You leaned back into his touch, nearly forgetting yourself and where you were. “Let’s go.”

You spotted Eddie on your way out, smoking a cigarette in the parking lot. You gave him a nod and he watched as you walked off towards the Camaro with Billy’s hand on your ass. For once, he thought it would be pretty funny if the police chief just so happened to be here.

Billy opened the passenger door for you, his hand trailing up your thigh as you slid into the seat. He was being needier than usual. Once he was seated himself, he started the car, his hand coming to rest on your bare thigh as he pulled out of the parking lot and sped off.

You always loved it when Billy drove with one hand like this. His fingers pushed up your skirt, playing with the hem of your panties. You were wet already, pushing down against him.

“Needy slut,” he hissed, although he was the one nearly begging for it. “Wait until I can get my hands on you.”

You expected him to take you to Lover’s Lake as usual, but instead he pulled up in front of his house. At least you assumed it was his house - a single story home with a screened in porch. No cars were outside. Billy had never taken you home before.

“Is this your place?” you asked him.

“Yeah,” he said. “But my dad and step mom went out of town for the weekend, so…we’re good.”

“What about your sister?”

“First of all, she’s not my sister,” he said. “And she’s staying with her friend. She won’t bother us.” He leaned over the seat towards you, placing a kiss on your lips. “We’ve got the place to ourselves all weekend. You could…even stay, if you wanted to.”

Billy was really asking you to spend the whole weekend with him? “Maybe.”

Billy smiled. He kissed you one more time, then the two of you climbed out of the Camaro. Billy unlocked the front door and you followed him inside. The inside of the house was much different than you expected. It hardly even looked like a family lived here. Billy’s weights were set up right off the living room with a tiny TV next to them. There was a closed bedroom behind it that you assumed was Max’s, then a hallway with more rooms to the right.

He dropped his denim jacket on the couch then opened the fridge and grabbed a beer, popping it open and taking a long drink. He was wearing a tight white t-shirt underneath the jacket, his even tighter jeans hugging his huge thighs. You could never say he wasn’t easy on the eyes.

He finished the beer and tossed it in the trash can, then turned to you. “D’you want anything? A beer, a soda, water…”

“I’m good,” you said. Billy smiled softly at you and then he spun you around, leading you down the short hall with his hand on your lower back. He opened the last door, revealing a bedroom that was definitely Billy’s, yet neater than you had been expecting.

His plaid bed sheets were tucked neatly, the bed made. There were no dirty clothes strewn across the floor. His cassettes and record collection were organized and put away. There weren’t even clothes poking out from his drawers. He had posters on his wall, Metallica you recognized, as well as some you didn’t know and some posters of girls.

Billy stepped around you, closing the door. “‘s not much,” he mumbled.

“It’s nice,” you smiled. He returned it.

“Now,” he said, ���I’d like to see you on my bed.”

“Yeah?” you giggled as he wrapped his arms around you again, kissing all over your face and neck, down to what was exposed of your chest.

“Fuck yeah,” he said. His hands slid up your skirt again, grabbing your ass. He slapped it, making you gasp. 

“Billy!”

He groaned. “I can’t help myself, baby. Every time I get my hands on you, I can’t fucking help myself.”

He pushed your skirt down your legs so it pooled at your feet. You stepped out of it, kicking it away. Billy was already working on your cheer top, pulling it over your head.

His hands roamed your body, left in nothing but your bra and the tiniest pair of panties that left little to the imagination. Billy was losing his mind at the sight of them, his hands rubbing over your ass, up your sides and to your tits, nipping at your neck and chest.

“Gonna mark you up real good,” Billy grumbled against your skin. “Let Munson see what he missed out on.”

You playfully slapped at him- “Billy, don’t be an asshole.”

“What?” he asked innocently. “If I have to share, I can at least send you back with the proof of what I did to you.”

You gasped out a moan as he bit down particularly hard on your neck, sucking on the skin and running his tongue over the bite. “Fuck, I need you right now.”

Billy pushed you down onto his bed. You bounced slightly as you watched him watching you, eyes never leaving your body as he kicked off his shoes, tossed his shirt and worked his belt open. You were practically drooling as he revealed more of his incredible body to you. You had never been too concerned with muscles or build before, but Billy’s body was something else entirely. He was hot.

He was already rock hard as he undid his jeans and shoved them and his boxers down. He wrapped a large hand around his shaft, tip flushed red and glistening with precum. You could see his hand shuddering as he stroked himself, eyeing you like he could eat you alive.

“Fuck,” he whispered. He crawled over your body, pulling your panties down and tossing them anywhere. He placed his hands on your knees and slowly spread your legs, groaning as he finally saw your pussy, so wet and ready for him.

He made quick work of your bra, getting rid of that and immediately wrapping his lips around your nipple. You arched into him, bare pussy grinding against his cock, desperate for him to stop teasing and fuck you already.

“God, you’re such a needy little slut. And everyone thinks you’re this good girl.” He nuzzled against the side of your head, lips brushing your ear as he whispered. “What would your daddy think if he could see you like this? Desperate for my cock?”

“Billy,” you whined. “Please don’t talk about my dad right now.”

Billy chuckled, pulling back to drag his cock through your folds, teasing your hole every now and then. “I bet he thinks you’re off somewhere studying right now. Gonna get into a real good school, right? Following the rules, never lying…” His tip slipped inside and you gasped, fingers gripping onto his sheets. “Definitely not letting guys like me fuck you stupid.”

He sunk fully into you with a roll of his hips, his entire thick length splitting you open. He moaned as he began thrusting into you quickly, the sound of his skin meeting yours filling the room. You held tightly onto his shoulders.

“Billy,” you moaned, fingers threading through his mullet of dirty blonde curls. You pulled on them slightly - he always loved when you did that. This time it earned a stutter from his hips, a weak “H-oh,” from him.

Billy never liked to admit weakness, but he was weak for you. You knew all the right things to do, the places to touch, the things to say. What was he supposed to do?

He buried himself in you with every thrust, each one powerful and strong, rocking the mattress. He would never admit it to you, but he never fucked the other girls the way he fucked you. He loved to take his time with you, to feel every inch of you, to savor it. He loved fucking you slow, watching the cute faces you’d make every time he hit your g spot with the head of his cock. He just loved looking at you - especially when your face was twisted in pleasure he was giving you.

“Pretty, pretty girl,” he hummed, looking down at you. Your eyebrows were drawn together, cheeks flushed, the slightest bit of sweat across your forehead, lips parted. You looked so beautiful like this, he thought.

He grabbed onto your thighs and pushed them up, spreading you wider and giving himself a better view. He was able to get deeper like this, pound into you faster, and he took advantage of that.

“You feel how deep I’m in you?” he grunted, hand resting on your lower belly.

“M-mmhmm,” you attempted to hum in agreement, but then he was pushing down, groaning as he could feel the pressure against his cock, and you were- oh god-

“Billy,” you cried, “I’m gonna cum-“

“Yeah, shit, yeah, cum for me,” he panted, fucking you faster, his own release imminent. He hiked your leg up over his shoulder and leaned over your body, kissing you hard as he nearly bent you in half.

Your orgasm hit you, but every thrust of his cock was still hitting that spot and making it feel like it was lasting forever. You tried to tell Billy it was too much, but the way he was laying on you made it impossible. A few actual tears slipped from your eyes.

Billy noticed immediately. “Holy shit,” he said, and then he dropped his head into your neck and cried out as he came, pumping his load into you, thrusting in as deep as possible to make sure you got every drop.

His trembling body remained on top of you for a bit longer, then he rolled off, pulling out and laying down next to you. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close, nuzzling his face into your neck. Billy Hargrove was not a cuddler after sex - usually it was okay thanks, bye. But with you…he never wanted to let you go.

You didn’t question it. You weren’t sure you wanted to go down that path.

Billy played with your hair as you laid there. He thought - about you, mostly. Should he actually ask you out? He’s been playing this cool guy who only does hookups role for so long, he’s almost forgotten how to initiate a relationship. Did he want one? With you, yes. Absolutely. So why didn’t he just ask? It drove him crazy that he knew you still slept with Munson. He had stopped sleeping with other girls. Sure, he hadn’t exactly told you that yet, because wouldn’t that make it too real? Would you even like that? Or would it scare you right back into Eddie’s arms? But if there’s one thing Billy knew, it’s how he felt about you.

You liked Billy. You really did. But could you even be together if you wanted to be? Your dad certainly knew of Billy, too. He’s just as high on the stay away list as Eddie.

But you let Billy cuddle you. You let him twirl your hair, trace your skin with his fingers, pepper your body in kisses and affection, whisper sweet nothings in your ear. 

Maybe it was wrong of you. Maybe you just wanted to feel loved. Maybe you really could love him back. Or maybe you never would.

You spent that weekend with Billy, with a promise to your dad that you were at Chrissy’s. You felt horrible lying to him, but there’s no way he would have let you stay otherwise. The thought was laughable.

You had never lied to your dad before this year. It felt horrible, like grime stuck to your skin you could never wash away. And to lie so you could sleep with guys? Who even were you becoming?

You didn’t dwell on that thought for the weekend. You allowed yourself to be spoiled by Billy - you fucked, you watched movies, fucked some more, cooked together, slept in bed cuddled together, fucked again. When you finally left Sunday evening, Billy had a perfectly sated smile on his face, leaning against his bedroom door in nothing but a pair of boxers, smoking a cigarette as you packed your stuff.

You heard the door open as you were zipping up your bag, then- “Ew, gross.”

You smiled as Billy scrambled to throw some sweats on. “Hey, Max.”

“Hey,” she greeted you. She always liked you, the times you’d been in the car while Billy drove her home or to the arcade. At least you were nice and didn’t totally ignore her.

“You sure you don’t want me to take you home?” Billy asked gently as you headed for the front door with your cheer bag. His hand rested on your cheek, looking into your eyes like you held the secrets of the universe there. “I don’t like you walking alone.”

“That would kind of give away the lie,” you said, with a forced playfulness. You didn’t exactly want to walk all the way home either, but you weren’t going to pull up at home in Billy Hargrove’s Camaro.

“Let me at least take you part way,” he said. “It’s a long walk.”

Eventually, you agreed to that. Billy put a shirt on and escorted you out to the car. He drove you most of the way home, stopping half a mile from your cabin. “You sure you’re good from here?”

“Yes, Billy,” you said. You were already climbing out of the car with your bag slung over your shoulder. “Thank you. For everything. I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah,” he said. “See you.”

Billy watched you walk as far as he could see, then found a spot to turn around and go back to his own house. He knew he needed to be there before his dad and Susan got home.

When you saw your dad was already at home, you breathed a sigh of relief that you hadn’t let Billy drive you all the way. You knew it was unlikely, but it was still a possibility. You walked up the front steps and let yourself inside.

Hopper looked up as you walked in, a smile on his face. “Well if it isn’t my beautiful daughter I never see. How was Chrissy’s?”

He didn’t sound suspicious at all, which was a good thing, but only made you feel a million times worse. “Good. We had fun.”

“Good,” he said. He took another sip from his beer. A pause. “That Munson boy called for you again.”

You almost rolled your eyes. You had told Eddie time and time again that you would call him. “Oh yeah? Probably just about the project.”

Your dad hummed. “You know I don’t want you spendin’ time with him-“

“-anymore than I have to, yeah I know,” you said. You tried not to let visions of things you and Eddie had already done flash through your mind, but you were powerless to stop it.

“He’s bad news, honey,” he said. “We’ve had him in the station a lot. Him and that…new Hargrove boy.”

Your cheeks flushed. Of course your two hookups were the entirety of the list. “I won’t, dad. I hardly even know them.”

“Let’s keep it that way,” he said. “You’re a good girl. You’re not dumb. Don’t do something dumb.”

“Where were you all weekend?”

Eddie’s voice purred in your ear as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close into his lean body. You giggled, letting him hold you, touch you.

“Billy’s,” you said, like it was nothing.

Eddie froze. “You were at Hargrove’s all weekend?”

“Well, yeah,” you said, turning around in Eddie’s arms. “His parents were gone for the weekend, so he asked me to stay over.”

Eddie was looking at you with his brows furrowed. “That’s serious.”

“No it’s not,” you said dismissively, waving that idea off. “He just wanted to get laid all weekend.”

“I’m telling you,” Eddie said, looking at you seriously. “It is. If Hargrove asked you to play house with him all weekend, it’s because he feels something for you. More than just sex.”

“Eddie, do we have to do this right now?” You played with the curls at the bottom of his neck, the ones that always drove him crazy. Eddie groaned, the fight leaving his body.

“Jus’ don’t want you forgettin’ about me,” he mumbled.

Your heart sunk. “Eddie, that’s not gonna happen.”

Much like Billy, Eddie also had constant thoughts of why he didn’t just ask you out. You were everything he wanted. The only thing he wanted. He didn’t look at other girls at all. He knew the thing with your dad would be an obstacle, but it didn’t have to mean there couldn’t be anything, right?

And he thought you liked him, too. That was until Billy came into the picture. Before Billy, you and Eddie just hooked up with each other, no one else. It was just a few words away from being official - at least that’s how Eddie saw it. When he learned you had started sleeping with Billy, he had to pretend to be a lot less phased than he was.

Because he had been hurt.

“What if Billy asks you out, huh?” Eddie asked. “What would you do?”

You looked up into Eddie’s big brown eyes. “Why haven’t you asked me out?”

Eddie didn’t know what to say to that. His lips parted, but no sound came. Before he could think about it too much, you connected your lips to his. Any thoughts that had been in his head swiftly left as he felt your tongue prodding against his bottom lip.

“Take me somewhere,” you whispered, and Eddie’s grip tightened on you like he was scared you’d drift away.

“Let’s go to my van,” he said.

You and Eddie practically ran out of the school hand in hand, giggling as you sprinted for his van. You got some strange looks from other students - even your friends didn’t understand your weird flip-flopping between Eddie and Billy - but you didn’t care. You never had. And you were well liked enough that no one was going to go tattling to your dad.

Eddie started up the van and drove off. He could and would have fucked you right there in the school parking lot where everyone could see the van rocking as he pounded into you, but he thought you deserved more than that.

So Lover’s Lake it was.

He pulled to a stop in front of the familiar lake, killing the engine. He nodded back towards the back, and you didn’t have to be told twice before you were climbing between the seats and to the large open space behind them. Eddie was right behind you, and then he was all over you.

He felt every inch of your body, like he couldn’t get enough of touching you. You kissed frantically, hands and lips everywhere. Eddie groaned, his pants even tighter than how they began. He shuddered when you ran your hand over the bulge in his jeans.

“Please,” he gasped. “Need you.”

Eddie could be dominant, but for the most part he was much more submissive than Billy. He had no problem begging, or letting you take control. Billy was different. He liked pushing you down, taking what he felt belonged to him. Eddie was all sweet touches and pleading and looking up at you with his doe eyes while he begged to cum.

You began undoing his belt and jeans while Eddie’s hand slipped beneath your dress. He stroked you over your panties, feeling the material soaked from your arousal. Nothing got Eddie off like seeing how badly you wanted him.

Just as you shoved his jeans and boxers down enough to free his cock, Eddie pulled away from you, pushing you back and making you gasp as he dove in between your legs. He buried his face against your cunt, breathing in your scent, nose pressed against the wet material of your thin panties. You gasped again when his tongue came out and licked you over the fabric.

“Need to taste you,” he begged. “You’re so fuckin’ sweet. Can’t resist this pussy.”

You whined. “Please.”

Eddie didn’t need to hear anything else. He slipped his ringed fingers beneath the waist of your panties and pulled them down, wasting not a single second before he was burying his face in your bare pussy. His long tongue licked along your folds, then he really dove in, two fingers slipping inside of you until you could feel the metal of his rings against your skin.

He thrusted his fingers as he worked that talented tongue over your clit, making your head absolutely spin as you writhed on the messy floor of his van. But how many times had he fucked you back here already? Eddie had fucked you lots of places, to be fair.

“Eddie, I’m- oh!” 

You cried as he sucked hard, your thighs trembling around his head, fingers tangling in his curls. You pulled on his hair, making him moan against your pussy. He was thrusting against the blanket beneath you, his dripping cock rubbing against the material providing some kind of relief.

He just needed you to cum for him, at least once. He didn’t think he could survive without it, didn’t want to cum inside you without the taste of your own release still on his tongue.

You were going to give him exactly what he wanted. You could feel it building deep in your belly, your chest heaving faster with the speed of your breaths. He sped up the pace of his fingers, his tongue working over you exactly the way he remembered you loved.

“Eddie!”

Eddie groaned as you tightened around his fingers, cumming all over his hand and mouth. He fucked you faster through your release, until you were covering your face and telling him to stop. When you couldn’t take anymore, he pulled back and placed a final kiss against your clit.

“Always taste so good,” he said with a wicked grin, like he’d gladly do it all over again. If he knew how Billy had made you cum so hard you cried, he would take it as a personal challenge.

He kissed you, pushing your dress up your body. You could fully taste yourself on his tongue, and it excited you. The first time Eddie had kissed you after going down on you, you weren’t sure you liked it - but it grew on you. He slipped your dress off over your head and threw it to the side.

“You’re the most beautiful girl in the world, you know that?” he asked quietly as he nuzzled between your tits, kissing over every bit of exposed skin he could get to.

“That’s not true,” you said, like the natural reaction to being called beautiful was to shut it down as soon as possible.

“But it is,” he said. He looked down, then back up. “Do you see what you do t’me?”

“That’s not that hard to do,” you teased, and Eddie smiled.

“To this level, yeah, pretty hard to do.” He kissed you. “I only get this hard for you.”

“How romantic,” you giggled. Your laugh turned into a gasp when he bit down on your neck, covering a hickey Billy had left over the weekend.

“I can be romantic, if that’s what you want,” he said. “I just thought you liked getting fucked like a whore.”

“I do,” you said quickly. “I like both.”

Eddie smirked down at you. “I could be slow and gentle sometimes too, y’know.”

“I like when you fuck me,” you pouted.

Eddie chuckled. “I like fucking you too. I just, I don’t know…sometimes I wanna take it slow. Really look at you. Really feel you.”

Your heart was beating faster. “Yeah?”

Eddie was kissing across your chest now. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “Can I do that?”

You thought about it. It seemed like it was awfully close to catching feelings, which you had promised yourself you wouldn’t do, for either of them. But the way Eddie made your heart beat, the way you wanted him to make love to you, wanted him to love you-

“Okay,” you said. “Just this once.”

Eddie smiled. He unhooked your bra and let you pull his t-shirt over his head. He kissed all over your body, taking his sweet time working his hips back between your legs.

“Don’t wanna use a condom,” he mumbled. “I wanna feel you. All of you.”

“You don’t have to,” you said. “I’m on birth control, you know that.”

Eddie knew that very well. He was paranoid about the consequences, though - usually he used a condom every time anyway, just to be safe. But sometimes…

“No fucking condom,” he said. He kissed you hard again as he lined himself up at your entrance, pushing just barely inside. He sunk into you with a slow roll of his hips, your body turning to pure electricity as you felt every single inch of him inside of you.

He was slowly grinding his hips into you, carefully thrusting at a pace slower than he’d ever used. It took everything in him not to pound you into the floor, but he was loving the feeling of savoring your body. He could really feel every inch of your velvety walls, the way you clenched around him, holding his cock tightly within your warmth.

“You’re perfect,” he murmured, whispering right in your ear as he made love to you. “Feel so fuckin’ good. Always so tight for me, like your body was made for me. Only me.”

Eddie always got a little possessive, especially if he knew you had recently been with Billy. He would never say it, but it was obvious that it drove him crazy. He needed to claim you for his own.

Eddie’s lithe body rolled as he pressed his cock into you over and over, holding your body close to his. You could feel his heart beating against your own chest, and you wondered if he could feel yours, too. Eddie kissed your neck as he fucked you, covering every mark Billy had made.

He reached in between your bodies and rubbed against your clit. You whimpered, something had already been building just from the feeling of the way he was fucking you, taking you apart.

“Eddie,” you whined, “I’m…I’m gonna cum again.”

He groaned. “Yeah, baby, I want you to. Got to taste your cum on my tongue, now I wanna feel you make a mess on my cock.”

You whimpered again as Eddie began to lose himself, his hips speeding up back to a normal pace for him. His hips were snapping against yours, his moans becoming shaky and weak. You were throbbing around him as your orgasm built and built.

When it snapped, your mouth dropped open in a wide O, your nails digging into Eddie’s back and scratching down his skin, leaving bright red marks. You cried out his name again and again like a prayer, and the feeling of your pussy clenching around him combined with the look on your face pushed Eddie over the edge.

He came hard inside of you, grunting your name until it turned into more of a whine, a plead. He shook as he held onto you - Eddie always came so hard, so much. You could feel him filling you, feel the way he came so much it was dripping out from around him.

When he pulled out, he inhaled sharply, eyes glued to the mess he left behind. His favorite part, the part he didn’t get to enjoy when he used a condom. This was worth the risk.

“Fuck, look at you,” he remarked. “That’s so fuckin’ filthy.” His eyes remained glued to you, taking in the view, until a lightbulb went off in his head. “Shit, wait! Don’t move.”

You watched him curiously as he reached under his seat. He came back out holding a polaroid camera - and your eyes widened.

“I got it for us,” he said sheepishly. “Can I…?”

“You want to take a picture?” you asked, incredulous.

“Well, yeah,” he laughed. “I’ll be looking at this one every night.”

You weren’t sure how comfortable you were with this exactly, but he seemed so excited, you didn’t want to tell him no. “Okay. Just don’t get my face in it.”

“You got it.” Eddie moved back between your legs and lifted the camera to his face. He lined up the shot and took the photo. When it came out of the bottom of the camera, he held it up, waiting for it to develop. You knew it had when a wolfish grin spread across his features - “Oh, that’s a good one.” He looked up at you. “Do you wanna see?”

“I’m good,” you said, scrunching your nose up. You weren’t sure if you wanted to see yourself in that way - he could keep that to himself. He certainly seemed to love it, though, the way he kept staring at the image.

“Gonna cherish this,” he said with a smile. He stuffed the photo in the back pocket of his jeans. He grabbed a towel from the floor and cleaned you up with it, then handed you your clothes. You both redressed in a comfortable silence - you’d been here many times before.

“What do you want to do now?” Eddie asked. He pulled a cigarette from his pack. “I don’t really want you to go.”

You shrugged. “What do you think?”

Eddie lit the cigarette and brought it to his lips, taking a long drag. “We could smoke,” he offered. “We could make out. We could go back to my place and listen to music, smoke, and make out.”

You laughed. “Alright. Your place it is.”

It took you too long to realize something was wrong.

Being on birth control, you didn’t always get your period - so that didn’t set off any alarm bells for you at first. It was when you started getting sick after breakfast, when your clothes felt like sandpaper against your boobs, when you had to pee 50 million times a night. That’s when you got scared.

“What’s wrong with you?” a wide-eyed Tina asked at school when you showed up dressed in a hoodie and sweatpants, hood pulled over your disheveled hair and dark circles beneath your eyes. “You look like shit. Like actually.”

“Yeah, are you okay?” Carol asked. She put the back of her hand against your forehead.

“I’m pregnant,” you said.

The girls froze.

“…What?” Carol asked, sure she hadn’t heard what she’d just heard. Her, Tina, and Chrissy leaned in. “Say that again.”

“I don’t know for sure, but-“

“No, say what you just said again,” Tina said. “You know, the thing you said just a minute ago.”

You looked up, willing the tears brewing in your eyes not to fall. “I’m pregnant. I think.”

The girls just blinked at you.

“Did you take a test?” Chrissy finally asked.

“No,” you said. “I haven’t…I’ve been scared.”

“Well, don’t just go around telling people you’re pregnant when you don’t even know,” Tina said.

“Oh my god,” Carol said, shoving her books back into her locker. “Come on. Let’s go.”

Carol led the way out of school. No one stopped the four of you as you walked out with confidence, like you were exactly where you were supposed to be. No one ever questioned the four of you.

Carol drove you all to the pharmacy. You had a whole entourage with you as you went inside, picking up one of the results in 30 minutes! tests. Minutes later you were shut in your downstairs bathroom, grateful your dad had such a set work schedule, and taking the test while the girls bickered outside.

“If she’s pregnant, I’m the godmother-“

“No, she would pick me, we’ve been friends longer-“

“Yeah, but she likes me best, so-“

The chatter stopped when you walked out. Your friends looked at you with concern. “30 minutes,” you said, as if that wasn’t a potential death sentence.

They tried their best to keep you entertained and your mind off things as you waited the 30 minutes, but it didn’t work. The seconds ticked by like hours.

When the 30 minutes were up, each of your friends squeezed your hand, offering their silent support as you went inside to see the results. You looked down, and, sure enough- blue. Positive.

You choked out a sob. The girls rushed to your side, looking down at the results and then pulling you into a group hug.

“Oh, honey,” Carol said, stroking your hair. “It’s gonna be okay.”

“You’re not in this alone,” Chrissy said. “We promise. You have us.”

“Do you…” Tina began awkwardly, like she knew she shouldn’t ask what she was about to but couldn’t help herself. “Do you know who the dad is?”

It occurred to everyone at that exact moment. No. You didn’t.

Something broke inside and the tears began flowing freely. You covered your face as choked sobs escaped your lungs - you were scared.

The girls did their best to calm you, to assure you everything would be okay, but you didn’t believe them. This was a fucking disaster. A baby, and no idea who the father was. There were two very possible options.

And what the fuck happened to your birth control? Useless, apparently.

The girls stayed with you all day. No one cared about skipping school, even though it was the first time you’d really done it. By the time the school day was over, you had come up with somewhat of a plan.

“Can you take me to Billy’s?” you pleaded with Carol.

She raised her brows. “You want to tell him? Now?”

“Yes,” you said. “I just…he’s…you know how Billy is.” You twisted one of your rings around your finger. “He…gets upset. So I just want to get it over with. I don’t want him to find out through a rumor or something.”

“We’re not gonna tell,” Carol said. Her eyes darted over to where Tina stood across the room. “Well, I’m not gonna tell. But yeah, I’ll drive you.”

You insisted Carol drop off Tina and Chrissy before taking you to Billy’s. The nerves were in place, and you admitted you were putting it off. Once the girls were gone and Carol’s car idled in front of the Hargrove residence, you just stared at the front door. Billy’s car was here - he was home. You didn’t see any other cars.

“You sure you want to do this today?” Carol asked, her face full of concern. “You don’t have to. You can wait.”

“There’s no point,” you shrugged. “He has to find out. I might as well…get it over with.”

Carol watched as you got out of the car and walked the sidewalk to the porch. You’d only been here the one time before, but you knew you were at the right place. You raised your fist - and let it hover over the door. You stood there - god, what would you even say? Would Billy be pissed? Would he blow up? Would he do something?

Your hand came down against the door.

as always, comments & reblogs are so appreciated!!

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[navybrat817]

Deep in the Woods: Part 3

Pairing: Soft!Dark Lumberjack!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Fic Summary: A relaxing getaway in the woods may become your permanent home when you catch the eye of a lumberjack.

Part 2 | Series Masterlist | Part 4

Chapter Summary: Tension is thick with you and Bucky as you two have lunch together.

Chapter Word Count: Over 4.2k

Chapter Warnings: DARK AU, bits of MCU canon, grumpy x sunshine trope, invasive behavior, bits of insecurity, sexual tension, kissing, reader ignores red flags like she's colorblind, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?), more warnings to come.

A/N: Next part of our lumberjack is here! ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby, but any and all mistakes are my own. Bucky edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Since Bucky already unpacked the food, you helped set everything on a couple of plates. He said he was starving, and you didn't want to keep him waiting. You also didn’t know what kind of plans he had for the rest of the day. He could eat what you brought and send you on your way if he wished.

“This really does look delicious,” he commented, helping you carry everything to the dining room. “Especially the cookies.”

“I hope you like them,” you smiled, setting your plate on one end of the table. “Oh, thanks,” you added when he pulled the chair out for you.

“Did your ex not pull your chair out for you?” he asked, a hint of bitterness coming out when he said “ex”, but you may have been projecting.

You also swore you felt his fingers brush your shoulders when you sat down, but the touch faded immediately. “Why do you ask?”

“You just seem surprised that I did that,” he replied, taking his own seat across the table.

“Oh. Well. He did it from time to time,” you said. Some considered it to be an outdated gesture, but you always thought it was sweet. Your ex did it at the beginning of the relationship, but that quickly faded. That should’ve been a sign that it wasn’t meant to last. No one should ever stop trying or caring in a relationship. “It’s nice that you do that.”

“Time to time. What kind of boyfriend is that?” he muttered like he hadn't heard the last thing you said, taking a large bite of his food. “A lot of men today don’t know how to treat a woman. Bet he never took you dancing or dressed up for you either.”

Your eyebrows shot up. The bitterness surprised you, but it didn’t upset you. There was no reason to defend your ex, and Bucky came from a different time. You were sure he treated women well and they likely felt lucky to date him.

“No, he didn’t really dress up for me or take me out dancing,” you confirmed. The more you thought about it, the more you wondered why you settled. Was it what you thought you deserved? “Which is fine since he wasn't really a good dancer.”

“I'm a good dancer,” he blurted out before he cleared his throat. “At least, I used to be.”

“I’ll bet you still are,” you smiled softly. He didn't quite smile back, but there was a tug in the corner of his mouth. It did break your heart a little to wonder when he last danced with someone he cared about. To be fair, you knew nothing about his dating history. It could’ve been years ago or recent. “Though most dancing today is just…”

“Grinding,” he finished for you, licking a bit of the food from his lips.

You swallowed your bite hard, proud of yourself for not choking. Picturing Bucky grinding wasn’t the best thing to do while eating. “Wow, did you make this table?” you asked. A change of topic was good, and if he caught on he didn’t call you out on it. Plus he mentioned that he made some of his own furniture. That was a safe and natural topic to discuss.

“I did,” he answered, running a hand along the table top. “One of the first things I made.”

“It’s gorgeous,” you smiled. He really had a talent, and he could probably sell furniture if he really wanted to.

“Thanks,” he smiled gently. “Not just for the compliment, but coming over. It's…” He tapped a finger on the table. “It’s really nice having company.”

You glanced around. There was a bench on both sides of the table instead of chairs, and it was easy for you to imagine his friends and members of the Avengers gathered around for a nice meal. But how often did that happen?

“I’m not much company,” you said before remembering he didn’t like you self-depracting. “But thanks for inviting me over. That was nice of you to do that.”

He leaned forward in his seat, his eyes locked deeply with yours. What was it about his stare that made you want to duck your head? Was it because he seemed to look right through you? “I think you’re great company,” he said, bringing a small smile to your face. “In fact, I think you should stay here with me.”

You blinked a few times. “I should… stay? You want me to stay here?” you asked. Exactly how long did he want you to stay?

“Yeah, after lunch. We can hang out for a bit longer and talk. Maybe play a game,” he suggested, finishing the food on his plate before he grabbed a cookie. “Unless you have somewhere else to be or have other plans?”

“I don’t really have anywhere to be,” you said. It wasn't like you had any plans either. Any excuse you came up with would've sounded lame if you tried. Spending more time there before you went back to your cabin wouldn't be so bad. “What games do you have?”

Bucky didn't answer since he bit into the cookie. With a groan he watched you watching him as he devoured the treat, making sure to eat up every single morsel. He licked his fingers and lips clean once he finished and you had to press your legs together, which did nothing to relieve the sudden heat there.

If that was how he ate a cookie, how did he eat… No, it wasn't good to let your mind wander.

“Y-You like them?” you asked, your voice breathier than normal.

“Like them? Do you have any idea how delicious your cookies are?” he rasped, the muscles rippling in his right arm as he helped himself to another. “So fucking sweet. Could just eat you up.”

The wave of heat flowed up to your neck. “I’m sorry?” you asked.

“Could just eat them up,” he replied.

“Oh, right.” Of course, he was talking about the cookies, and you hadn't heard him correctly.

“I went years without dessert,” he said almost more to himself than you, but he continued to stare when he finished his second. “Didn’t realize how much I missed it until I didn’t have it.”

Your heart went out to him. If you ever wanted a treat, you had the privilege to buy one or get the ingredients to make them yourself. He didn’t have either option and that wasn’t by choice. What he had to endure, at least the information you were privy to, you wouldn’t wish upon your worst enemy.

“You’re more than welcome to eat the entire plate if you’d like,” you offered, chewing your lip as you thought more about it. “And, you know, if there’s something you’d really like or if you have a favorite treat or dessert, maybe I can bake it for you?”

“You’d do that?” He looked touched before his cheek twitched. “Even after I was an ass to you and you already made lunch for me once?”

“Well, you weren’t a complete ass to me and this lunch was for both of us,” you teased a little. “And I really don’t mind. I like to cook and bake.”

“Yet you do data entry,” he deadpanned.

You shrugged. “Data entry is a job that helps me pay my bills, and that’s why I do it. Nothing more.”

“So, you wouldn’t miss it if you ever had the chance to quit?” he asked curiously.

“I mean, I might miss it if I don’t have something else lined up, but it isn’t exactly a dream job. I don’t know if I actually have a dream job, but I could never be a professional baker or cook because those are things I love to do, and I want to keep enjoying them without pressure added to them,” you said. You respected people who went for their dreams, but you felt like doing those hobbies as a job would somehow taint them for yourself. Doing them for fun and spoiling those close to you made you happier.

“That makes sense. You want to keep the purity of it,” he said. You had to agree with that. “You know, I did offer to let you use my kitchen while you’re in the area. Maybe you can bake for me here or we can bake something together.”

Lunch and meeting his cat. Playing games. Baking together. Bucky must’ve been desperate for the company if he wanted you to hang out with him. What other explanation was there? “That would be nice,” you smiled. Using his kitchen would be amazing.

“But we can figure out what to make together later. You asked about games.” He licked his fingers again with a hum and you almost looked away. “I have a deck of cards, or I have stuff like checkers, chess, or Scrabble.”

Plenty of games for two. “I’m fine with…” you stopped talking when fur brushed against your leg, making you giggle. “Hey, Alpine.”

Bucky smiled softly. “Al, let her be.”

“Oh, she’s fine,” you smiled, reaching down to pet her. She was a sweet cat. “Is she strictly an indoor cat or does she ever go on walks or anything with you?”

“I carry her or put her in my coat if we venture away from the house. Not because I think she’ll run off, but because of some of the other animals in the woods. I don't want her to get hurt or worse.”

“That makes sense.” Your heart ached at the thought of something taking Alpine away, but it warmed at the image of the burly man carrying her around in his coat. “You said you came out to the woods with her. Did it take her a bit to get used to the place?”

He nodded. “It was a little bit of an adjustment, but she loved it once she got used to it,” he said, resting back in his chair and observing you as you ate. “I don't think she’d ever want to go back to the city since she loves this place so much. She has everything she needs here.”

Something flickered in his eyes and you weren't sure why his tone sounded strange. It was almost as if he was trying to convince you and himself that she loved it there. “Well, as long as she’s happy and you're happy and the place feels like home, that’s what matters, right?”

“Right,” he whispered.

“Though I imagine it must get a little lonely since you're so far from the city,” you commented, wishing you hadn't said so. He wanted to get away after the rough mission he experienced and didn’t need you commenting on his possible loneliness.

“It can be,” he said, leaning his arms on the table and gazing at you. “But it isn’t so lonely right now.”

“No, it isn’t,” you said, the conversation you had with Kenna popping up in your mind. Maybe he was lonely and you were, too, and he was still shirtless and he could make you forget that loneliness for a short while and help with your sexual frustration and… something was stopping you from going there. “I guess it's too bad I won't be around after a couple of weeks,” you smiled sadly.

Bucky frowned and abruptly stood up from his chair. “I’m getting another drink,” he said, his voice a quiet rumble. “You want one?”

You frowned a little, too, when you saw his eye twitch. Did your comment somehow upset him? “Sure, thanks,” you replied, watching him grab both glasses and walk out with heavy steps.

You sighed once he was out of sight. For a second you wanted to believe that Bucky was giving you an opening, but you didn’t take it. But what if you hit on him in return and flirting with you wasn’t his intention at all? How awkward would that be if he turned you down or told you to leave? You’d have to hide out in your cabin for the rest of your trip.

If Kenna were there she’d tell you to get out of your head.

Alpine brought your attention to her with a small purr, brushing against your leg again. “You really like it out here, huh?” you asked, giving her another pet. “I can see why. It’s beautiful, peaceful. Don't have to worry about noisy neighbors and traffic and crowds.” You paused and giggled. “But I guess you never had to worry about traffic and crowds. Only Bucky did.”

“Not anymore.”

You jolted when Bucky set your drink down. You hadn’t heard him come back in. At least he wasn't frowning anymore. “Sorry. I was just-”

“It’s fine. I talk to her, too,” he said, nodding to your plate. “You haven't finished your food.”

“Oh, I think I was just caught up in our conversation,” you said, going back to eating.

Instead of taking his seat at the head of the table he took a seat on the bench to your left. Alpine hopped in his lap and he rubbed her head, but he kept his eyes on you. “The bowl of stew you had yesterday was a small helping, too. Do you not eat enough?”

You coughed when you took your next bite and his hand went to your back since he was close enough. His hand was huge. Warm. Why were you thinking about that? “I eat plenty,” you defended yourself after you took a drink. He didn't remove his hand. “Three meals a day and snacks in between.”

“Sorry. That was rude of me to ask that way,” he said, slowly pulling his hand away. “Just making sure you're taken care of since you’re out here all by yourself.”

“It's okay.” The question surprised you, but you weren't at all angry or put off. It was actually kind of sweet that your well-being mattered. “But you don’t have to worry about me. Unless it involves chopping firewood, I can take care of myself.”

He raised an eyebrow like he didn’t quite believe you. “I know all about taking care of myself, but it’s tough some days having to go it alone,” he said, watching meticulously as you worked on finishing up your plate. “You shouldn't have to.”

Your well-being wasn't Bucky’s responsibility as flattering as it was that he cared. But the fact that a virtual stranger cared more about your safety or if you ate enough more than some who knew you for ages hurt. It shouldn’t matter, but it did. And once your getaway was over, you’d be back in the city and back to your routine and Bucky would be back to his routine, too.

“It is tough some days,” you agreed. That was why you wanted to have a good and caring partner to lean on so you could ask for help if and when you needed it. What you got instead was a cheater, but you were better off. “You shouldn't have to go it alone either. No one should,” you said, deflecting a bit so you didn’t focus on your thoughts and feelings.

Bucky sitting so close and watching you made it hard to think properly. Taking your next breath didn't feel natural either. The short time you spent together hadn't accustomed you to his lingering stares or being the center of his attention. It was a lot. Not bad, just a lot.

He hummed once you ate your last bite and took your plate for you. “We can play in the den.”

“You have a den, too?”

“Yeah. I almost thought the place was too big for me, but I like the space. Also has perfect lighting when I read,” he said.

“That’s really nice,” you smiled. It was also the perfect amount since he eventually wanted to have a family. “My apartment has this little nook where I curl up with a pillow and blanket when I read.”

“A reading nook,” he said, glancing behind him. “That’s not a bad idea.”

“Everyone should be comfortable while they’re reading,” you said, Alpine hot on your tail as Bucky led you to the den.

It wasn’t as large as the living room, but still spacious and it had the perfect small table for you two to sit and play a game. “How do you feel about Scrabble?” he asked.

“I’m semi-confident in my skills,” you said, tucking your legs beneath you when you sat down. “Do Sam and Steve like to play games?”

“They don’t mind them, but these games have been sitting here collecting dust,” he replied, bringing the game out. “Now I finally have a partner to play with.”

Your brows furrowed. You assumed one of his friends would play a game with him if they stopped by, but maybe they did other activities. “Well, I hope I’m a worthy opponent.”

“I’m sure you are, but I’m pretty good myself,” he said without a hint of bragging. “Winner picks the next game,” he added, more like a statement than a suggestion.

“Oh,” you said. He assumed you were staying for more than one game. You couldn’t exactly blame him since you confirmed you had no plans. “Yeah, okay. Winner picks the next game.”

He smiled triumphantly. “You’re not a sore loser, are you?”

“No,” you giggled, helping him set up the board. His fingers brushed yours when he handed you the letter pieces, tingles shooting down your spine. It was sad how starved you felt for some affection, and it felt selfish to indulge. But was it selfish when he was single and so were you? “Are you?”

“I try not to be,” he said, taking a seat to your left again instead of across from you. “Either way it’s a win though.”

“Yeah? How’s that?”

“Because even if I don’t win this game, we’re still going to play another and there’s a chance I’ll win that.”

You tried not to smile. “That’s a good way to look at it.”

“I imagine that’s how you look at things,” he said, tilting his head. “A little bit brighter than most.”

You froze. Kenna said something similar yesterday. “I’m sorry, what did you say you did after you left yesterday?” you asked curiously.

“Spent most of the day and evening inside. It was uneventful. Why?”

“No reason,” you smiled. There was no way he was by your cabin after he left yesterday. No possible way. It was silly to even think that for a moment.

“You asked for a reason,” he said. “Why?”

“Well, I was chatting with a friend just outside of the cabin yesterday and I thought-”

“You thought what? That I was hanging around and eavesdropping?” he asked, your eyes rounding at the bite in his tone. It was reminiscent of when he discovered you attempting to chop firewood.

“No!” Why had you opened your mouth? “I just heard a couple of noises like branches snapping, but it was probably an animal or something. I don’t really know the surroundings here.”

He nodded after a moment. “There are animals in the woods, so it’s good to be on guard if you’re sitting outside. One of the reasons I have a security system is so I can see all angles outside of the place,” he said, his shoulders relaxing. “Sorry if I sounded upset. I just…” His jaw clenched. “I thought this was going well, but you’re scared of me just like everyone else.”

Your face fell and his apology didn’t make the guilt you felt go away. If anything, you felt worse. Things were going well, and you blew it. “No, I’m sorry, and I’m not scared of you, Bucky.”

“You’re not?” he asked, his eyes boring into yours.

“I’m not,” you answered. You had no reason to be scared. If he wanted to hurt you or do anything else, he would’ve done so already. “But if you want me to go-”

He grabbed your wrist before you could move. “Stay,” he whispered, sliding his hand down to grip yours. It was a strong grip, but it didn’t hurt.

“You want me to stay?” you asked. A gorgeous hero wanted to spend time with you. He really was as desperate for your company as you were for his. But it had to be because you were the only person nearby, right?

“Yeah.” He nodded to the table. “I mean, we already went through the trouble of setting up the game,” he said, his voice lighter.

You smiled a little. It was a good sign that he wasn’t kicking you out. “You did,” you agreed, not pulling your hand away. It felt nice.

“And maybe the overall winner can pick dinner instead of another game. Could be something simple. I have plenty of stuff here to make.”

“Dinner? Wait, I’m staying for dinner?” you asked, confused. He hadn’t mentioned anything about dinner tonight. “I thought I was heading back to the cabin after a couple of games.”

“Why would you do that? I thought we were having fun,” he said, tilting his head. “What, you’d rather eat alone?”

“Oh, I am having fun, and I don’t want to eat alone.” It has been a fun afternoon so far. It continued to surprise you that he wanted you around. “You sure you don’t mind? It’ll be dark after dinner, and I wouldn’t want you-”

“I don’t mind walking you back if it’s dark. I’d prefer that, actually.”

“Okay,” you smiled. Dinner would be nice. “And I want you to remember what you said earlier because when I win so you can’t act grumpy.”

“You think I'm grumpy?” he teased, complete with a grumpy stare.

“From the short time I’ve known you, you do give off grumpy vibes,” you teased back, the tension fading away.

“I’m an old man. I think I’ve earned my right to be grumpy,” he said, carefully looking over his letters.

“Well, you don’t look like an old man,” you said. Not with the way he was built. “You look really good,” you added, feeling the need to do so.

His thumb moved along your hand and you weren’t sure if he was doing it intentionally or not. “Glad you like what you see,” he said in a low voice, his eyes flickering to yours.

Before you could concentrate on the heat spreading in your body, he went back to the letters and carefully placed his tiles on the board. The room remained silent when he set the last tile down and you tried not to react when you read the word. It was almost impossible not to, especially with how he kept rubbing his thumb along your hand.

QUIVER

“Quiver.” You swallowed a little. “So, that’s 18 points. I guess I have my work cut out for me, huh?”

Your eyes stayed on the board when he moved a little closer, feeling the warmth that rolled off his body. He wasn’t lying when he said he ran warm. “I guess so,” he murmured.

Clearing your throat, you tried to concentrate on choosing a decent word. You couldn’t think of anything spectacular, and you were blaming that on Bucky since he was so close. You felt his eyes on you, too, and you dared to sneak another glance at him. He looked like he was two seconds away from devouring you. And you wanted him to.

“Fuck it,” you whispered, leaning in and pressing your lips against his.

It wasn’t a passionate kiss or anything over the top. Just a soft, chaste kiss to test the waters, to break the tension that you were certain at this point both of you felt. He didn’t kiss you back since you pulled away before he could, but he leaned forward like he was chasing your lips. And he refused to let you look away when he opened his eyes, cupping your cheek and silently demanding that you stare back at him.

If he looked like he wanted to devour you before…

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your heart racing when he brought his metal hand to your face, too.

“I’m not,” he whispered back, slowly leaning in.

A flash of lightning nearby illuminated the woods outside the window followed by a roll of thunder that made you jump back before he could kiss you, your heart racing again as the sudden sound of raindrops followed. “It’s raining?” you asked. You didn’t know it was going to storm today.

“Yeah,” he said. He didn’t seem to care at all since he was too busy staring at your mouth. “Supposed to rain through the rest of the afternoon and part of the evening, so it’s a good thing you’re here with me.”

“Oh. Yeah,” you said. There was no way you’d make it back to the cabin without getting caught in the storm, but that was the last thing on your mind when his thumb moved over your lips.

“What’s wrong? Were you scared I’d kick you out? Make you get all wet?” he rumbled, your breath hitching when he slid one hand to the back of your neck. “You don’t need to go outside to get wet for me.”

“Bucky,” you gasped.

His lips skimmed yours before he pulled away. “But why don’t we try to finish our game?” he suggested, your mouth falling open. “We’ll see who breaks first.”

Moving fast! Our poor girl. To be fair, this was meant to be a romantic vacation for her, and I'd ignore the red flags if a shirtless Bucky was paying attention to me. So, which one is going to break first? What do we think will happen next? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[randomshyperson]

Butchered Tongue - Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: The Halloween Disturbances separate Wanda from her wife, who, intrigued, begins to take a closer look at the anomalous activities in Westview. Or the one where you discover Westview isn't what it seems, Agatha loses her temper, and Death makes an appearance. 

Warnings: (+18), there’s smut at the beginning (sub!wanda, hints of power dynamics, enchanted strap, creampie, dirty talk), mentions of magical manipulation, Westview canon compliance, agathario being agathario, dark and traditional magic, mentions of attempted magical resurrection, a lot of canon angst ‘cause why not, nothing bad ever happen to kids denial is a river | Words: 7.060k

A/N-> “Why this has an open ending, mary?” Well for start, this is a test. I’m writing a long fic that rewrites and inserts reader into westview drama and I wanted to see how further I could dive into this subject and also bring agathario angst. I liked it very very much but this work here I actually had a lot of fun writing it and i wanted to share it with everyone. I hope people tell me what they thought of it, if you all would rather have a story for the beginning with all the scenes of them together or just a story that moves forward (i haven't thought of a plot after this yet). Honestly, this is just for fun people, I hope you liked this and I hope that I someday write more about this little variation of new characters and dynamics I wrote in this one. The new series will have hybrid!reader ‘cause i’m a TVD fan and i miss that shit daily (and witches and vampires/werewolves are a match). Ps. I suck at summaries and now I just copy-paste the show's official summaries haha

General Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad | *Series Masterlist

*you can read the two first "chapters" for context but it's not really necessary, to understand the story. This is pretty canon-compliant

-&-

Pietro's presence just worsens the tension between you and Wanda.

Not that he's behaving inappropriately or anything like that - his flawed personality is probably his charm. 

The problem is that you had no idea Wanda had a bother in the first place. You were certain she didn’t, just two seconds before she opened that door, but by the same second she told you who that was, your mind went blank and a click of new memories was input into your brain. You could relax and pretend they were always there, and trust your wife but she must have been feeling strange about the whole thing as well, somehow sharing her hesitation through the magic that surrounded every corner and mind of that town.

That's why when Wanda came back to bed that night, she found you already asleep - or pretending to. Every instinct in your mind was telling you to run screaming, the image of your work colleague and his despairing eyes, begging for help, piercing all the new family memories you were getting now.

Children growing up years during one single evening, neighbors terrified subconsciousness, mystery brother. Things seemed to be getting out of control for Wanda as well, but she just kept saying everything was fine and you could trust her.

She didn't try to press you into a conversation, but you heard her tense sighing around the room while she changed into her nightgown.

In no time, there's a soft weight on the bed and a pull on the mattress. You feel her warmth behind you but don't move an inch.

Wanda shifts and you stop breathing when her fingers reach out for your back. Tentatively calling for your attention.

Sighting deeply, you slowly turn to face her. You don't know what you were expecting, maybe red irises that would take your doubts away. You weren't expecting to find teary eyes instead. The effect was nearly the same though - seeing Wanda crying knock down all your defenses all at once.

“Hey.” You start softly, one of your hands moving to her cheek. She leans into the touch immediately, a sad smile on her lips. “Why are you crying, darling?”

She shakes her head, and it looks like she won't explain further when suddenly, she sobs. “I can't believe he's really here.” 

Wanda looks so vulnerable but you're so confused. You don't stop your caress on her cheek but you stare at her in doubt. “Oh darling, tell me what's wrong? Didn't you two get along?”

Wanda chuckles sadly. Your words are not meant to be anything but curious and reassuring of her feelings but they pierce her heart nonetheless. The fact that this version of you has no idea of how much she lost, and didn't even know who Pietro was until tonight makes her feel so wrong about everything.

“We did. He, hm…” She dries her own tears when evading your touch. To lie to your face, she needs physical distance not just emotional. “We grew apart, that's all. It's really nice to have my brother around again.” She turns away, to gaze at the ceiling but you frown at the sudden change of behavior. Wondering what you might have said to upset her, you swallow as Wanda yaws. “Today was just a lot. Let’s just sleep, okay?”

Wanda turns her back to you without another word but less than a minute later, you hear her trying to shuffle her crying.

You don't ask her any questions as you adjust to hold her, feeling her body tensing before relaxing completely.

There will be time for questions tomorrow. Right now, you just hold your wife while she cries herself to sleep, hoping she knows in her heart you'll be there for her.

-&-

Pietro Maximoff could be a bit inconvenient. But so could be Agnes, the nosy neighbor who seemed to share a special affection for Wanda's twin. 

You couldn't really decide which one of them was the most cheeky.

With the daily routine falling into place again, you wanted to believe things were getting better but in fact, they weren't. That whole “foggy mind” sensation never left you, and you had the strong impression that the whole two weeks of Pietro sleeping on the couch and every other routine memory with the boys, Wanda and occasionally Agnes around the round was somehow implemented into your head during your sleep. It just didin’t feel like weeks had passed, but somehow everybody was acting like it did.

Without any proof to that, however, you found yourself staring at a colorful outfit in your shared closet.

Wanda got up early - She has been quite evasive about your agony. And her lack of interest just makes you more anxious.

But by the time you were ready to face another day, she was already dressed up in her red costume, looking way too pretty for someone you were supposed to be mad with.

“Hey darling good morning. Your outfit is right there, I'm gonna check if the boys are ready.” She spoke very quickly, hands busy with the last adjustments of her hair. But her little crown was slightly misplaced and you moved to her way before she could bypass you and leave the room. “What are you…?”

Without a word, your hands move to fix her appearance. Wanda stays put, eyes scanning your face as if searching for a hidden meaning behind your actions, and at the slight feeling of her presence in your mind, you chuckle.

“Is this what you do now?” You question and Wanda's cheeks grow red with shame. “Little peaks whenever you don't feel like talking to your wife?”

She gasps slightly at the accusation. But you're staring at her with anything but teasing behind your eyes and Wanda lifts her chin.

“I don't want us to fight.” She declares but she doesn't move away from your touch so you don't give her space either.

“Fight? You barely pay me a glance.”

“That is not true!” She defends herself immediately but you chuckle dry.

“How come is Halloween already? I could swear it was summer. Didn't we go to the local club just a couple of days ago?”

Wanda holds your wrist, moving your hand away from her red crown. 

“Could you just behave? Today, at the boy's first Halloween? Please.”

She was not only diverting the whole situation guilty towards you but also ignoring your questions. 

When Wanda decided that behaving so toxic towards you was acceptable you don't know.

What you know is that she needed to be reminded of a few important things.

“I'm afraid that your bother is having a terrible influence on me, darling.” You start, freeing your hand from her grip only to move both to her waist. She swallows hard but keeps an indifferent expression. “I'll be up to mischief all evening.”

She frowns, even if by instinct her hands find your shoulders to correspond to your touch, she looks tense.

“What… You're not sticking around for your son's first Halloween?”

You chuckle at her choice of words. Nowadays, every time you want to question something, Wanda goes for emotional appeal. 

“Is it? They are already ten. I'm certain we must have taken them to pick up candy at some point. It would be odd if we haven't.” 

Wanda narrows her eyes at you. So this is how you gonna play this game - by taunting her on everything that was weird about Westview, trying to see her crack on her indifference.

She takes a deep breath, fingers adjusting your pajama’s collar.

“You're trying to get a reaction out of me. I'm sorry, but I already said we're not fighting today. If you can't skip work, I'm taking the boys with their uncle.”

“As you wish, darling.” You retry with the same serious tone. 

Wanda stares back. And there's a pause and another. 

Then, a pull on her waist to bring her hard towards your chest. Wanda barely has time to blush or choke on her breathing when your lips meet her in an intense kiss.

She moans against her will into your tongue, her body melting as your hands squeeze her waist, that doesn't help her regain her posture one bit.

She feels her back hit the shelf when you push forward to press her against it, but that only makes her kiss you harder, the affected sighs during the kiss only making you crazier.

Your hands start to wander, and the bedroom door locks by itself, a spell of noise filling the wood as well. As your kisses go down her jaw, her trembling fingers try to undo the knot of your pajama pants. She ends up failing in the activity when you start biting a sensitive spot behind her ear, your teeth scraping the way down, and Wanda wonders if she should cause more fights to have such a mind-blowing turn-on like this; she feels like if you don't fuck her now she might combust.

She only realizes she's started begging because you give a sadistic giggle, which makes her cheeks burn.

"I might not let you leave the room, Wands." You tease, and she has trouble even understanding what you're saying because you've lowered your fingers to where she's already started leaking beyond her costume. "Making those delicious sounds, and dressed like that. I don't want to let you go." 

She forces her mouth to work, even though she's first letting out a little squeal when she feels your palm press against her covered pussy. "I'll be quick." She replies hoarsely, and you raise an eyebrow at the double meaning. She chuckles weakly, sighing. "You won't even have time to miss me." 

You hum absently, looking down. One of your hands caresses her ass and then her thigh, smoothing her pantyhose. Your fingers tease her intimacy, bringing the moisture she can't contain, and making her knees buckle. When Wanda shudders, in that sexy way she always does every time her orgasm is building properly, you sigh. 

"Sorry, honey, I really need to touch you." It's your only warning, and Wanda wants to pretend she doesn't like it when you rip her costume at the bottom, but she ends up rewarding you with a new wave of wetness running down her thighs.

You kiss her again as your fingers find her entrance, but Wanda has trouble even standing, let alone kissing you back when you’re touching her like this. Your fingers tease her hot entrance before you push two digits inside without ceremony, grunting at the warmth and the way she squeezes you. Wanda sighs contentedly and resists the instinct to close her eyes to meet your gaze. She holds on as you rest one hand behind her on the shelf, and adjust the angle of the other, going deeper inside her. It’s almost a challenge as your thrusts start to get more determined and harder and she has to grip your shoulders to stay upright, biting her lip to muffle the sounds that tear from her throat.

The climax builds so quickly, she might be embarrassed if you weren’t her wife, and you know her body so well. Just adjust the angle, press her clitoris with your thumb, and Wanda arches and comes hard, keeping herself standing only by holding on to your shoulders, while all the lights in the room flicker and the place shakes as much as your body.

You have a satisfied little smile on your face as she tries to stop shaking, and she can't hold back her moan when you remove your fingers from inside her only to suck them clean one by one.

You kiss her again as soon as you finish, and Wanda finds it so dirty and sexy that she starts scratching your belly, ready for another. You break off with a giggle.

"Weren't you the one in a hurry?" You tease, your pants loosening as Wanda starts to feel around you, pulling the item down with some urgency.

"Weren't you the one who wouldn't let me get out of bed?" She responds aroused, managing to make you giggle before pressing your hips together, her firm hands squeezing your ass.

When she kisses you next, sucking on your tongue, you grunt. "Fuck, you drive me crazy, Wands." You break the kiss, manhandling her back to the bed, and standing behind her. "You're gonna get on all fours and watch yourself get fucked like the slutty housewife you love to be. Come on, Wanda." A slap to her ass has her whimpering on shaking limbs until she finally exposes herself to you. The mirror in the corner of the room is ignored, but you force her face up, and she stares at the sight that leaves her dripping.

It doesn't surprise her to feel the hardness against her entrance, but it makes her break into a deep moan. The toy conjured in your pants that are still hanging at your knees slides in easily, and you both grunt at the sensation of the enchanted cock filling her up. Your first thrust is the only gentle one. Your hands grip her hips and then her hair, and Wanda is transformed into a pathetic mess of begging and moaning as you begin to fuck into her hard, the bed rocking with your movements.

You grunt between thrusts how much you love her. How much you love filling her, how much you love the way she sounds and feels. How much you want to fuck another baby into her.

Wanda comes without warning, her hands gripping the sheets in desperation, her body giving in to the climax as she cries loudly into the bed. You don't stop your movements, the creamy slickness making a dirty sound that makes you curse softly and Wanda blush deeply. She grunts at the overstimulation, but her hips move in time with yours.

You tell her that you're going to come, your thrusts becoming more frantic and uncoordinated, and she keeps her gaze on your reflection, watching with adoration the way your body moves against hers, your face contorted with pleasure as she barely manages to stay on her own limbs. When you come inside, the sensation is too delirious to begin with, so Wanda follows your climax, moaning as your body falls on top of hers, holding her to the bed as you pour yourself inside her.

But as your breathing calms and the arousal has subsided to deep intimacy, you sigh and pull out of her, throwing yourself next to her on the bed. Wanda frowns at the change in your energy and looks at you curiously.

"We can't end all fights like this," you murmur, and she raises an eyebrow.

"Can't we?"

But despite your dry chuckle, there's no joy in your eyes. It makes Wanda feel like the worst person in the world, even after what was probably the best sex she's had in a long time.

"I'm gonna go change. I promise I won't ruin anything for you today." You say, and she wants to pull you back and tell you that you never ruin anything, that this is all for, but none of that comes out.

She just stands there in silence, until she remembers everything she had planned for today with the noise downstairs.

She's already fixed her costume and tidied the room when you come back with a towel slung over your shoulders.

“I…” But the boys running and fighting with their uncle downstairs make Wanda sigh. She offers you a lingering glance once she touches the doorknob. “I love you, Y/N. Never forget, alright?” 

You give her a lopsided smile. “Don't start or I'm gonna kiss you again.”

She smiles and leaves without saying anything else. You don't know how her heart ached at the fact you didn't say it back.

-&-

The further you went, the less habited Westview became.

The realization gives you chills, and as the city turns into this creepy empty scenario, you start to consider giving up your little investigation and just go back to your lovely wife and children.

It's the neighbor's parked car at Ellis Avenue that makes you sigh determined.

You're surprised to find Agnes having a drink inside. The small bottle has an insight that looks strangely familiar to you but you can't put your heart on that. And you're busy speaking:

“Goodnight, Agnes, is everything alright?” You greet but upon your sudden arrival, she chuckles ironically.

Not even bothering to hide away the bottle that has something so strong that you can smell the alcohol from afar, she leans into the window to get a better look at you.

“And what are you doing here, sugar?”

Her attitude chocks you. Not only that but something about the ascent also makes you frown. But you decide to play along because things are weird enough those days.

“Hm, I was just going for a walk.”

Agnes lifts an eyebrow at you. “Oh, does she know you're out?”

You know immediately she's talking about Wanda but you have no clue what that means. So you swallow drily and stare at the older woman.

“Yeah, I… I tell my wife everything.”

Agnes giggles wickedly. “Is that what you believe? Truly? How lovely.”

“Agnes, I don't understand -”

“Stop this act for once!” She cuts off angrily, opens the door, and almost hits you in the process. You step back so she can get out of the vehicle, and she hits the door a second time. “I'm Agatha! We know each other! Stop this foolish act for once!”

You frown and shake your head confusedly. “Of course we know each other, you're my neighbor-”

She groans impatiently, giving your shoulders a hard push. “Do you know how worried I was when you disappeared? Do you even care?”

��Agnes, I don't-”

“When you said you wanted to do the right thing, I let you. I gave you the space you wanted. When you said you would play superhero with those lunatics, I said okay, do one crazy thing this century, we all have our phases.” She continues to vent, without caring about your confusion. “But then you were gone! They brought everybody back except you. There was a whole fucking memorial you know? And I thought, fuck that stupid asshole finally got what she was looking for. And yeah I took your body from those shitty agents like you made me swear I would do if you were ever treated like a lab rat, but then I came here for a job and here you are! Playing housewife with that witch as if nothing bad happened ever happened!”

You interrupt her: “What bad thing happened?”

“You died, your idiot!” She screams back, stealing the air from your lungs. But she sighs to keep her composure and then chuckles humorlessly. “Or at least that's what the news said, right?” She retorts, her eyes shining lit. You don't know if it's the tears or the challenge behind her iris. “What is this anyways, Y/N? Where even are you right now? Do you know? Does she?”

You step back, your heart racing in your chest. “None of this makes any sense. You're clearly disoriented, and I'm sorry but I can't deal with this right now.” You practically run away from her, but Agnes - or Agatha at this point you're not sure of anything anymore - stops following you. She shakes her head in disbelief and takes the small bottle from her pocket again. With a long gulp, it looks like she drinks all of it before turning back to her car.

You just keep moving. 

The Avenue limit is in front of you, and you don't have to make much of an effort to realize there's so short of energy there. Like a wall right in front of you.

Taking a deep breath, you raise your hand to the border moving forward with your fingers.

The second you're out, Westview disappears.

-&-

Before.

When Agatha Harkness decided her apprentice was ready for a real mission, she expected the witch she chose to spare instead of sacrifice once, to go for something simple, like killing a dragon or exploring a different realm.

She was not expecting an infinity stone.

“It's stupidly dangerous.” She said when you suggested but you didn't lose your posture.

“And when are we doing things that aren't dangerous?” Your argument started there just before you listed how inconvenient it would be if Hydra learned how to manipulate the stones for the actual magical community. Teasing Agatha by saying you might ask the Kamar Taj Mages for the same mission was the main reason she agreed with this.

In no time, you're heading off to a little place called Sokovia. Alone for your first mission, you didn't call for help when you got captured because that would be too humiliating. It was your first mission without Agatha, you could handle Hydra and their weird science.

You could handle their experiments and torture in search of truth. You could handle an infinity stone being carved into your skin as they tried to study the magic from your veins. If there was something that Agatha taught was that you should never fear power, no matter what, you should take it. And so you did.

Agatha was supposed to be proud - You did not only succeed in your mission when you interrupted the experiments by stealing the stone from Hydra to give it to the Avengers (who were not supposed to do the same with it to be clear), but you were also much more powerful than any witches your age and beyond due to the experiments. But instead of being proud, Agatha got jealous. She was worried too, but mostly jealous. It's just who she was after all - the most ambitious person you ever met. And having her apprentice overcome her power in one mission didn't make her feel very good about herself.

After the fight that escalated with this jealousy, you two departed for years. You became an Avenger, and Agatha kept doing what she did best. The stone craved at Vision’s head kept whispering fears into his mind until finally, the mad Titan came to Earth to retract what he believed belonged to him and kill anyone who stayed in his way.

You were given a proper and public funeral organized by Natasha Romanoff, so Agatha knew you were gone. She saw the news, then she visited the grave. 

The Avengers didn't know the old ways of witchcraft, so she felt she was in her right to steal your body without giving any explanation. Leaving an empty and destroyed grave behind. It was not the witch community problem that a new tension surfaces with that, whispers of government organizations or criminals wishing to have your body for their own experiments. The talk of men was of little importance for a 300-year-old witch anyway.

Five years came and a flick of fingers brought everybody back from the dead. All but you.

Agatha had your body magically preserved - untouched by the lady of death as one last favor from Rio - she made sure you were buried in her family land as well. 

You must rest with your kind she would say.

But everything changed one afternoon. She felt a powerful magic emission from afar and left her property. Unaware that you heard the same calling.

The connection you held with the witch calling whatever was deeper than the dark roots of that cursed magical ground your body was buried in. 

The stone that was used to amplify Wanda's and your powers created a magical bond between you two that not even death could break. That, and well, you loved each other very deeply. The second her heart screamed your name during the Creation of Westview, you moved to her. 

Your poor stitched body couldn't do the travel - the fight with the Titan weakened your flesh to its limit. You crawled into the Harkness Residence while its owner flayed to answer the magical calling before you could.

The only way you were able to reach for Wanda was with your mind. The preserved connection of the stone to yours and her power brought your conscience all the way to Westview but weakened by the distance and your wife's grief, all memories were gone. 

You were there, but not really.

And while Agatha's employees woke up and freaked out about a body in the living room, your Hex version and her were locked inside Westview, following up fantasies for what felt like a lifetime but in reality barely a week had passed.

That until of course, you stepped outside.

The first person you see is Darcy Lewis. But she's nothing like you remember her.

Just like everybody around, she had circus outfits and even some handcuffs and chains around her that made you frown.

Getting up from the ground you didn't even realize you fell into, you take a moment to clean up the amount of dirt from your clothes.

“Darcy, is that really you?”

The brunette let out a nervous laugh. “I'm sorry, am I the only one who saw this woman appearing out of nowhere? Hello, guys? Okay, I'm out of here.” She moves away nervously but you stumble behind her. 

“Wait, Darcy, is me-”

“Get away from me, stranger!” Darcy shouts back, almost running but you focus on using your abilities. It's painful, as if your mind and body - and the Westview version of yourself are -  getting used to magic again, so when you teleport to her way, your knees give up and Darcy is kind enough not to let you fall to the ground. “What the hell was that?”

You balance yourself with her help. “Darcy is me. How can you not remember me?”

“Sorry, I'm not good with names.”

You chuckle weakly. “Not even Jane Foster? Or Thor?” She blinks, suddenly more uncomfortable than before. When she hesitates, you reach for her head. The magical subjugation is forced away by your magic and Darcy gasps in chock. 

“Oh my god, is really you is it, Y/N?” She finally recognized you, her memories coming back to her at high speed.  You sigh in relief, moving closer to free her from her chains. You hug her back as her arms lock around you tightly. “I knew they were wrong when they said you were gone.”

You break the embrace to give her a small smile. “Well, about that…”

You had to tell the story very quickly; your goal was to get back to the city, to your wife. Who needs to explain to you how the hell you were here and not buried in New York. If Wanda wouldn't talk, Agatha would have to do it.

Darcy, fortunately, managed to get a car.

"[...] do you really think she resurrected me?"

Darcy shrugs, she's driving and even though she's not a witch, she seems to take the whole story very seriously.

"Look, it's like I told you, SWORD called all kinds of experts to this place. No one really knows what the Hex is made of, much less how you're here. But what we do know is that your body was stolen about three weeks ago, and no one has been able to locate you anymore."

You imagine how Wanda would have done it, and the image of her digging your grave and dragging your body through the city gives you chills. But it also has nothing to do with Wanda, and makes you sigh wearily.

"I don't know, Darcy. It doesn't sound like anything she would do."

The woman with the glasses forces a sad smile at you. "Grief is a strange feeling, my friend. We often do surprising things."

There's a pause, but when Darcy speaks again after a whistle, her tone is much lighter than before.

"Now, talking about your body, are you sure you don't feel... you know, physical?"

You laugh, scratching the back of your head awkwardly. "It's hard to explain. I don't think I would notice if I weren't a witch, and well the spell is strong and capable of fooling everyone here. But I can feel that I'm not complete." You try to explain. "I only noticed when I left the Hex. It was like a tug, behind my head, as if my mind is the only physician thing here somehow. I don't know how Wanda brought me back, but I have a few guesses. A lot of them involve necromancy, but I don't know where she would have learned that. Although, the presence of a friend here in the Hex gave me some pointers."

Darcy frowns. "Friend? Who?"

She has to brake suddenly, because there's a sheep crossing in the way. It's your turn to grimace.

"What the hell...?" The herd lingers and then gives way to children crossing the street and an old lady with walking sticks.

Wanda is keeping you away. But why?

"She's doing this, Darcy." You mutter irritably, looking out the window at the next distraction on the road - roadworks - before unbuckling your seatbelt. "This is ridiculous. I am dead, and my wife would rather arrest me on the road than talk about it. We'll meet downtown, Darcy. And thank you for coming here to help Wanda." You get out of the car before your friend can protest, and fly away without waiting for anything else.

It's time to have a grown-up talk about things.

-&-

Your sudden departure, although short, was enough for your physical body to gain the little vigor it needed.

Just enough to call the only person who could help you in this state.

Agatha had few trusted employees, but they all liked you. Worried and attentive to every movement, to every weak breath of yours, while they stitched and healed your body, they heard you whisper the name that had not been pronounced under this roof for hundreds of years.

“Rio Vidal.”

Harkness Mansion grew cold at once, and the employees shrank in fear but also lowered their gazes in respect for the personification of death that had just appeared at the entrance.

Rio walked unhurriedly to the stone bench where your body rested. She touched your face and hoped you had some strength to open your eyes.

Completely white irises stared back at her. An empty, soulless cocoon.

"Poor child." The woman whispered, tracing your cheek carefully. "Agatha never learns."

She made to move away, but you managed to move your hand to hers. "Help me." The mansion's servants left the two of you alone, but Rio didn't care if she had an audience or not. She sighed sadly, her free hand resting above your ribcage. 

"Agatha asked me not to take your body, but this is inhumane. You're suffering, Y/N." You shake your head, tears escaping the corners of your eyes. Rio looks at you in confusion and insists: "Of course you are, child, look at you. You're empty. You're not even here anymore." Your fingers intertwine with hers in desperation. "We..West...view."

You struggle to get the words out, until finally, Rio understands.

"Westview is a town in New Jersey. That's where Agatha anchored the preservation spell, isn't it? Tell me where. I'll set you free."

You shake your head and your words change. "Wanda."

The woman frowns. "Wanda? Your wife? What does she have to do with...-"

One of the servants comes back into the room, a newspaper in hand. He seems too scared to interfere, but he still manages to hand the item to Rio.

When she reads the headline about Westview and a mysterious Hex that has quarantined the town, she laughs in disbelief.

She comes back to you only to pull you up in a sitting position, ignoring your grunts of pain.

"Our wives are insane, honey. Get up, let's clean up their mess."

It's a quick trip with Rio's skills, of course.

And you arrive for a very ugly fight, which your body certainly couldn't handle. That's why Rio keeps you both hidden, watching from a distance.

Agatha - as always - takes impulsive actions and this time, she can't win.

In any other situation, Rio would have intervened on her wife's behalf. This time, having to help your body stand up, prevented from decaying by spells because Agatha refused to let you die, she doesn't do it. She just watches Wanda take her power.

After so many centuries of watching Agatha do the same to other witches, it's definitely an interesting scene.

The limit is drawing in imprisoning her. That Rio can't allow.

"May I interrupt, ladies?"

Rio's sudden appearance makes Wanda go on alert and prepare for a fight. But her entire posture collapses when she locks eyes with you.

With a sob, Wanda calls your name and then runs to meet you.

You have trouble staying upright with the hug but you don't dare complain.

Billy and Tommy look at the scene with confused faces, and it is Billy who whispers his version of Hex:

"Why is mom hugging that zombie?"

You laugh softly, ruffling your two children's hair. Wanda is crying, unable to let go of your body, and you sigh tiredly. You feel the tug coming from there, but you have no idea how to regain a physical form. The connection seems impossible.

Agatha starts to cause a commotion with her ex-wife.

"You're so irresponsible, I told you a million times that breaking the natural order of things is impossible, and it's temporary. You don't listen, and you don't learn!" Rio accuses, trying to reach Agatha who is running away from her until she reaches your Hex version.

"Here’s the proof that it's not impossible!" Agatha retorts in despair, ignoring the looks in her direction. "Look at her! She lives! It's her soul! Wanda brought her back. She could-"

"Agatha." Rio cuts her off, tears in her eyes for the first time. She shakes her head and takes a deep breath. And when she speaks again, her voice is much softer than before. "Not him, okay?"

And the witch who is holding your shoulders tightly, sniffs softly, trying to hide her own emotions. "Why? Why can't you give me the only thing I want?"

Rio swallows hard. "He found peace, Agatha. There is no return for his soul. Y/N is still here because you imprisoned her. And Wanda was able to call her back. And now." She gestures to your two versions and your wife. "It's time for goodbyes."

Wanda didn't want to let go of you, but you gave her a reassuring smile.

Your physical body couldn't speak, and she noticed it immediately. She touched your cheeks and stared into your completely white, lifeless eyes.

"I'm sorry for doing this to you." She whispers, sniffing softly. "I'm going to let you go."

The boys don't listen, having been taken away from the confusion by Monica as soon as Agatha and Rio start arguing. And Wanda needs to leave your body with Lady Death, even if it breaks her heart into a thousand pieces.

"Will you take care of her?" She asks, swallowing the urge to cry again. She looks at Agatha, sulking in a corner as if she would also start crying at any moment, and sighs. "Of the two of them?"

Rio nods and looks at Wanda curiously. "We'll meet again, Wanda Maximoff. I'm at the end of all journeys."

The younger witch can't smile back, she just looks at Rio with such deep sadness that it makes the entity regret having been present in so many moments of Wanda's life.

With one last look at your body, the Scarlet Witch joins her family from the Hex, and leaves towards their house, while the magic fades in the sky and around everyone.

-&-

You turned on the lamp just as Wanda had turned off the opposite one, and she smiled as she looked at you.

The boys were sleeping upstairs, and from the window, you could see the Hex closing.

"Sorry, I remembered..." You start awkwardly, out of breath. "That it's bad luck to say goodnight in the dark."

Wanda smiles, approaching in small steps. "Is that so?"

You nod, your hands in your pockets because you don't know what to do with them. You didn't know what to do with anything.

"It's the name of a song, isn't it? One of the many you used to listen to in the Avengers Tower."

Your wife sighs, giving you a sad, almost guilty smile. She's finally close enough to touch.

"I'm sorry about your memories." She asks softly, her hands moving to your wrists. So that you take your hands out of your pockets, and place them where they belong. Around her. "I would have told you the truth from the beginning, but I didn't know-"

She trails off when instead of wrapping your arms around her waist, one of your hands reaches for her cheek, caressing it with a tenderness that makes her melt and gasp.

Wanda can't do this. She can't. She doesn't want to say goodbye, and she can't say goodbye to you again.

"I'm so sorry for making you cry." That's what you say, which just makes her break down into a sob. You give her a tearful smile, your other hand also reaching for her face, to hold her tenderly. "You, Wanda Maximoff, are by far the best thing that has happened to me in 345 years on this earth. The fact that I get to die knowing that I was loved not just by anyone, by  you, is the epitome of a fulfilled life.” You say, caressing her skin with your thumb. You take a deep sigh, as your wife tries to hold your hands in her face. “I love you, Wanda.”

“Please.” She cries, falling into your embrace when you move your hands away. She holds you as tight as she can, but she can feel the fading of the spell. “Please come back to me.”

With all your heart, you wished to fulfill her request. And with the end of Hex, the last sensation you felt was Wanda's embrace, and her tears wetting your shirt.

It made all the sense that you woke up with a jump, calling her name.

The place you were in looked nothing like Westview or any place you had been in years.

But it wasn't completely unfamiliar. It looked a lot like a forested area you hadn't been in since the last century.

And the little boy picking flowers near the river where you emerged from took all the air from your lungs.

Little Nicholas Schatch looked back as if he had guessed you were awake.

"Hi, Aunt Y/N."

You gasped with excitement, sitting up. He came closer and didn't complain when you pulled him into a tight hug. Even though you came from the water, your clothes were not wet.

"Hi, Nicky." You cried, holding him until he laughed at the tightness and tried to escape the grip. "Look at you, boy. You look so handsome, so grown up."

It had been so long since you had seen him since you had helped Agatha bury him. He didn't seem to have aged a day, but he had looked so small when he passed, that you had the impression he had grown. "It's so good to see you again, dear." Nick smiled, sitting down next to you on the dry grass. 

"You didn't bring Mama with you." You give him a sad smile, shaking your head. 

"I'm sorry, little prince, your mama isn't ready yet." He nods in understanding, upset but not insisting. You look around, recognizing that scene, the cabin in the background, the river. You sigh before looking at Nicholas again. "Where's your other mother?" He shrugs, gathering the flowers in his lap. You realize he bound them together with magic, not with knots. You frown, touching his hands. "Can you do magic now, little prince?" He nods, smiling. 

"My mother taught me." You stare at him in surprise and then look around again. 

"Where are we, Nicky? Do you know?" He gives a confused laugh. 

"Home, Aunt Y/N, of course."

You accept the flower necklace he made for you but don’t get up when he walks away back to the lake.

“Nicky.” You call after a moment of thought. He hums, signaling that he’s listening. “Did anyone else come with me? Two other little boys?”

He doesn’t look up from the new necklace he’s making. “No, Aunt Y/N. My mother said Billy and Tommy ran away.”

Your stomach drops. You choke. “W-what… Ran away? Where?”

He shrugs and finally looks at you again.

"She doesn’t know, Auntie. But my mother keeps me here safe, away from the disease. She said she could keep you and Billy and Tommy too. But she needs to find them first."

You freeze and try to hide your reaction from your step-nephew. He gives you a smile before going back to playing, and you force your body to work and stand up.

You take one last look at him before heading towards the cabin, and as soon as you arrive, you realize that it is exactly as you remembered, how you visited Agatha and Rio for decades before Nicky was born - when their life was calm, happy, and peaceful.

Everything that time has erased, photos, paintings, and furniture are fully preserved here. You lean against the walls until you sit in one of the empty chairs at the table.

You notice the pots of food and frown.

Since when do the dead need to eat?

Raising your hand in the air, your first attempt is a simple conjuration. Anything, even a spark. And you end up having to suppress the grunt of pain as you try. Nothing.

Maybe the passage took away all your magic, or maybe it was the river’s doing. Either way, you're dry.

You look through the half-open door at the child playing in the river and bite the inside of your cheek. Your fingers find the flower necklace in your pocket, and even faintly, you feel the magic in them.

Well, a few dozen more, and you'd have enough to get you home.

Hopefully it would be a trip for two.

[jillsandwhichs]

Midnight

Chapter 8 to Joel Miller x Reader Smutshot Collection

Masterlist ★ Midnight (Part Two)

Pairing: F!Reader x Joel Miller

Summary: You are studying at your friend Sarah's house and you get to meet her dad, Joel Miller. Later that evening, Sarah heads to bed and you crash on her couch, continuing to study. However, that studying is soon interrupted when Mr. Miller decides to strike up a convo with you—one that turns into something much more

Status of your guy's relationship in this one shot: Acquainted/Hookup

WC: 4.8k

Type: NSFW

Warnings: Age gap, Making out, Dirty talk, Breast play, Protected P in V, Riding, Spanking, Minor Dom!Joel, Degradation kink (Not too major but it is present) and Choking

A/n: Hi! Hope you all enjoy. Please check out my masterlist, there's a lot of stuff there. You can get to know me, you can see the rules of my blog and then you can see all of my fanfictions. You'll be able to find the previous chapters to this fic and upcoming ones. You'll also be able to find my Wattpad & AO3. Comments, reblogs & likes are appreciated. Thank you

As your friend Sarah parked her car, she cleared her throat and opened the driver's side door. You opened the passenger door and got out, grabbing your backpack and slinging it across your shoulder, keeping it secure in that spot. You closed the door and as you did, you heard the sound of Sarah locking her 2010 Bentley. Her dad, Joel, who you are about to meet for the first time, bought it for her when she turned sixteen.

She is now twenty-one and you're nineteen. You two go to College together. She majors in Geology whereas you are a Psychology major. You two couldn't be more different with what career paths you want to go down but the two of you have bonded beautifully nonetheless. Yet despite being so close, you've never been to her place. It's either your apartment or at the local library. For once though, she invited you to her house which is in the suburbs of downtown Austin TX.

Sarah used her key to open the front door to the house and stepped aside, allowing you to enter first. The house was cozy looking just from the area you first entered in. It smelt nice too though you couldn't quite pin down what the scent could be exactly. You took off your Doc Martins and hung your jacket up on the rack as Sarah did the same, removing her Converse and tossing her jacket on the floor. Of course, you plan to have as good a set of manners as you can.

"Just through here, we can study at the dining table." Sarah said softly, removing her backpack from her back and holding it close. You followed behind her and as you did, you saw a tall, muscular yet older man standing in the kitchen. You recognized him too, it's her father, Joel. He's definitely much taller than you expected and looks a bit older too. He has to be in his late thirties at best. Sarah was clearly surprised to see her dad as she set her bag down and ambled over to him.

"Dad, I didn't think you'd be home so early," She glanced at the clock, "It's only seven." Joel set his soda can down and looked at the digital oven clock and nodded. "Yeah, boss let me and your uncle off early today. How was class?" He asked her, his voice thick with a southern accent. Honestly, it was pretty attractive. You silently took a seat at the table as they continued to converse. "Fine. Boring. I just want to get to the good stuff, you know?" "I know baby but you have to be patient." Joel snickered.

Sarah nodded and pulled two water bottles from the fridge, tossing one to you and keeping the other one in hand. "You goin' introduce me to your friend over here?" Joel pointed at you and gandered over at Sarah. "Right..." Sarah introduced you, then introduced him to you. "And this is my amazing dad, Joel." Sarah said sarcastically yet lovingly as she took a seat across from you. "It's nice to meet you, Mr. Miller." You said with a smile. He snorted and shook his head. "Call me Joel."

Joel. Right. You probably sounded stupid by being so formal. You chuckled and nodded. "Okay." You murmured. Joel turned back to face Sarah. "I'll be up in my room so uh, if either of ya's need me, just come and knock." "Okay dad." Sarah nodded and began to take stuff out of her bag. "It was nice to meet ya." Joel stated to you. "Nice to meet you too, Joel." You smiled. He then inched off towards the staircase before leaving the downstairs area.

Before you knew it, you and Sarah had all of your study supplies out. Everything from your laptop to notebooks, you two were prepared. Finals are coming up and there is absolutely no way you plan to fail any of them, especially for you Psychology 101 class. You have studied and worked your ass off day and night for that class. You'll be damned if you get anything lower than a 90%.

"This class is kicking my ass." "Which one?" "Advanced Geology studies. I can't wait to become a paleontologist but working towards it is a bitch." Sarah laughed and rubbed her temple. "I get it. I am beyond excited to become a psychiatrist but the last thing I want to be doing right now is studying. I'd much rather be out getting drunk and eating junk food." You snorted. Sarah nodded. She couldn't agree more.

You two have gone to your fair share of College parties. They all suck, in all honesty, but they are fun. You and Sarah always go to them together. The last time you guys went to one was about a month ago so a break would be pleasant. And, it was like Sarah read your mind. "If we finish studying early, I can order us some dinner." "That would be fantastic." You said as you grabbed out extra notes from your backpack.

"Let's get to it then." Sarah groaned before putting that black gel pen to paper. You instead used your laptop, at least for this studying session.

The clock starts now.

-

Your fingers were beginning to cramp up. All of that typing and writing does that to you. Just by looking at Sarah, you could tell she was exhausted. The only thing keeping her awake now was the fact food was right in front of her. You two decided to not wait and ended up ordering Chinese about an hour into studying. It's now almost ten at night and Sarah is clearly spent. Occasionally, she takes a bite of her noodles and coconut chicken but other than that, she's staring off into space.

"You good?" You giggled and used your chopsticks to get a piece of sesame chicken into your needy mouth. "Yes, yes I am." Sarah rubbed her eyes and took a drink of her water. "I am dropping out of College." She joked and took another bite of her food. You laughed and nodded. "I feel ya... Are you going to go to sleep then?" "Here in a bit, most definitely. As for you, you can either crash on my floor or on the couch—whichever you prefer."

You thought about that for a moment. Both are fine options. Though, you'll probably sleep down here so you don't disturb her whilst you continue to study.

Slurping up some more noodles, you sighed and swallowed them. "I'll crash down here, I plan to study more, so." "More!? You are insane." Sarah's eyes went wide and she rolled them playfully. "I don't play around when it comes to finals. This noggin has to acquire as much knowledge as possible." You giggled and stretched out your fingers, trying to release them from the uncomfortable feeling of cramps and stiffness. "If you say so, props to you." Sarah stood up and closed her takeout box.

"I'm spent for the night, I'll continue in the morning." She stated as she ambled over to the fridge. She opened it up and set her Chinese food inside of it to save for later. You figured you'll do the same once you get full. "I'm heading to bed girl. If you need anything, help yourself, nothing is off limits." Sarah assured you. As she walked past you, she patted your head playfully and grabbed her water. "Goodnight!" You said kindly, waving to her. "Nighty night." Were her last words.

A minute or so later, you heard her bedroom door shut and you released a sigh. Now you are all alone. It isn't so bad though. You decided you'd finish up your food then sit on the couch to study, that'll be much more comfortable.

-

You found yourself on the couch shortly after. Your laptop rested in your lap and you had your earbuds in. The song playing was Dreams by Fleetwood Mac—one of your favorites. As you listened to a classic tune, you scrolled on YouTube, finding videos to benefit your study sesh. You found quite a few and added them to your 'Studying' playlist in which you use very often.

Tonight went well. You had a good time with Sarah despite the boring studying, you got yummy food which you devoured and you even met her dad after all this time. Joel doesn't seem bad at all. He's kind, welcoming and well, hot. Of course, you'd never make your attraction towards him obvious, he's your best friends dad! But the moment you saw him, your stomach did flips and you had to hold back a grin.

You shook the thoughts from your head and went back to focusing. You sighed deeply and began to type in a new docs. You've typed out four different ones just in this singular night. It's been rough but you know it's insanely worth it in the long run. You are so proud of how far you've come in College-it is truly amazing.

As you typed more and more, you must've not noticed the six foot man traverse down the stairs and say hello to you until you glanced up and saw him standing in front of you, a tallboy in hand. "Oh." You muttered and paused your music, removing your ear buds and looking up at him. "Hey, Mr. Miller-I mean, Joel." "Hello." He snickered and sat down beside you, stretching and letting out a low groan. You honestly thought he was sleeping.

"What're you studyin'?" You heard Joel ask. You cleared your throat and turned your laptop more to face him. "Just studying for my finals-currently for my Biochem class." "Biochemistry, huh? That your major?" "Absolutely not." You snorted. You'd rather shoot yourself, actually. "I major in Psychology." "Ah, psychology. Pretty sure Sarah wanted to major in that at one point or another." "She did. She's good with Geology though." You stated and paused your studying session to just speak with this man.

Joel sipped his beer and cleared his throat, the cold, refreshing drink clearing it up naturally too. Joel gandered at the coffee table then at your hands. "You drink?" "Oh uhm..." You stuttered. You're nineteen, he realizes that, right? You do drink from time to time but why would you admit that? "I'm not dumb." Joel snickered. "You want a beer or is wine more your thing?" "Beer." You stated plainly. "Atta girl." Joel nudged your knee and stood up, stumbling over to the fridge.

He grabbed out a beer from the fridge and walked back over to you, setting it on the coffee table and gazing at you. "How old are ya?" "Oh, I'm nineteen." "Young. Don't let life slip past ya." Joel snickered and chugged some of his beer. As he did, his blue work shirt slightly lifted up, offering you a glance of his pudgy stomach. You bit your lower lip and looked away, staring at your laptops bright screen. You can't even deny that seeing his stomach was enticing.

You grabbed the beer and opened it up. The crackling sound of cracking it open was satisfying. You brought it up to your lips and took a sip. It was strong but not hardcore, you could handle it. It was bland though, definitely not the best beer you've had but hey, it's from an older man's fridge, what else can you really expect? Joel laughed when seeing you drink it. Admittedly, he was surprised you handled it with grace.

Joel chuckled after seeing you drink the beer so casually. It isn't everyday he sees a girl of your age and size handle a beer straight like that. Admittedly, he found it rather attractive.

"Surprised you ain't out yet, I heard Sarah crash upstairs not too long ago." "Yeah, I'm not very tired yet. I'm usually awake until midnight anyways." "Midnight? As a College student? You're crazy." Joel teased and drank more of his beer. Everyone says that. You should head to bed earlier but you're simply rarely tired until later at night. You set your beer down and closed your laptop (You can resume your work later, when you aren't so... Distracted...).

You had changed before sitting on the couch. You're wearing something rather... Revealing? It's a pair of lacey shorts with a matching top which definitely shows off your cleavage. You hope Joel doesn't mind or doesn't even notice overall. When you peeped over at him, he was focused on his beer and whatever else he was thinking about. That's a good sign.

"So uhm, Joel, what do you do for work?" You decided to make conversation so the tension wasn't so evident. "Contractor. It's basically construction and carpeting mixed together." Joel stated. "I see. That's a tough job." "When ya start, yeah, then you get used to it and it's nothin'." He established. Seems true enough but that can go for really any job, right? You're such becoming a psychiatrist will have a similar outcome.

"With your degree, what do you plan to become?" "Psychiatrist." "Study the human brain, I see. Bet if ya studied mine, you'd either be terrified or disgusted." Joel laughed and put his beer down. "Why's that?" "An old man like myself ain't got nothin' innocent up in the brain." He cackled and undid his belt, tossing it off to the side to let his stomach have more space. An innocent act yet, your brain immediately shifted to something more seducing.

Guess a young mind isn't so different then.

You giggled and rested your head in your hand. "What makes you think a young mind is any different?" "All College students have similar things up in their heads. Work, homework, alcohol and sex... That ain't nothin' darlin'." Darling? What an odd thing to randomly call you. You felt your stomach flip at the sudden petname and the eye contact he decided to initiate. You looked down and bit your lip. "You aren't wrong." You snorted.

Sex. That's on your mind often.

"So what's on your mind then? Murder? How to buy cocaine?" You joked. "Sometimes." He teased back. "What's really on your mind?" You questioned him in a low, enticing tone-it wasn't even intentional either, it just sort of... Came out. "Right now?" "Sure." "Money, takin' a shower and sex." You laughed at his response. Seems like the average manly reply. Money, taking a shower and sex. Sex. Sex is on his mind right now?"

Joel smirked and looked you in the eyes. "How 'bout you?" "Well, let's see... Studying, Christmas break because that'll be heavenly and uhh, sex." You plainly said. You bit your lip afterwards and adjusted your seating position. Joel looked you up and down and nodded. "Sex for you too then, huh?" Joel let out a breathless snicker. You nodded and fluttered your eyes at him. Shit. Are you really seducing your best friend's dad? You are a total bitch.

You felt Joel's hand slither to your thigh. You breathed in a sharp breath and looked down, noticing his hand trailing upwards. It felt so good. It made your stomach twist and churn in the best ways possible. "Are you a virgin?" "No." You whispered as his hand moved closer to your pussy. It was covered by your shorts, but they have easy access. You are wet. You can feel it. You are pulsing. It's all because of this older fucking man.

"Who's the oldest guy you've fucked?" Joel was so straight forward. You cleared your throat. "I don't know... Seventeen or eighteen." You admitted. "Christ." He chuckled. "I'm almost fourty, that okay?" Joel asked. He's a man, such a man but a respectful one. The moment he saw you earlier, he could've came in his pants right then and there. You are gorgeous. He saw you and hell, if Sarah wasn't there he would've hit on you then and there.

Sarah has brought over a handful of friends and all of them were nothin' compared to you. In fact, he's never done anything with her friends. The craziest he's ever done is hookup with his brother's ex but, he'll never admit that to anybody.

As Joel's fingers inched closer to your special spot, you grabbed his hand and looked at him with an alarmed look. "What about Sarah?" "She's asleep." "I know but I can't just hookup with my friend's dad." "Yeah you can, I'm right here." Joel touched your pelvic area and earned a whimper out of you. The touch coming from him was something different. You wanted to give in and honestly, you plan to. This doesn't harm Sarah in any way, yeah? She won't even know.

You slowly let go of his hand and this gave Joel the green light. His fingers slipped passed the fabric of your shorts and you felt two of his finger tips against your damp underwear. He can most definitely feel how wet you are. "I've hardly fuckin' touched ya and you are this wet?" "Sorry." You looked down in shame. Though, Joel snickered. "Hell are you apologizing for? I think it's sexy." He said in a sexy, deep voice before he suddenly pulled you into his lap.

You straddled him and felt shivers trail down your spine. The two other boys you've been with were not this straight forward. You looked down and encased your arms around his neck, not knowing where else to put them. Joel's hands remained on your upper thighs. "Tell me," Joel began, "What is it you want?" You have no clue. You want Joel to lead the way, quite frankly. "What I want is..." You murmured before making eye contact with him. "I want you to do whatever it is you'd like to do to me." You whispered out.

A faint, hushed breath came from Joel as he heard you say that. He squeezed your thighs and looked into your alluring eyes. "Jesus Christ." You felt Joel harden beneath you. Did you seriously turn this man on even further? You're proud of yourself for that. "I want you to ride me." Joel breathed heavily and patted your ass, making you squeak. You've rode a guy, once, but you've done it. At least you won't be going into this completely blindsided.

Breathing in deeply, you nodded. "Okay." You smiled. Whilst on top of him, you leaned back and pulled your sleeping shirt off. You weren't wearing a bra beneath it-you aren't supposed to sleep in bras. Once it was off, Joel immediately latched onto your left tit. You gasped and held onto his head, your fingers trailing through his brunette hair. "Oooh fuck." You whimpered and took it.

Joel suckled and swirled all over your nipples and breasts. It felt amazing. It was a euphoric feeling. His tounge worked wonderfully around your perky breasts. All you did was caress his hair and be supporting. He pulled away and now kissed you. His lips aggressively went up against yours and you moaned, kissing him just as passionately back. This felt so surreal. Shortly after making out with you, he pulled away and went back to sucking your tits.

Autonomously, you felt yourself grinding against him. You could feel your folds becoming more and more wet. The friction of you against him, dry humping him, was enough to turn you on even more. Joel's hands held onto your thighs tighter as you continued. You've never felt this drawn to somebody before. You want your hands all over him, and his all over you. You shouldn't feel this way. This is Sarah's fucking dad! You are a total cunt for even kissing him let alone preparing to ride him.

He let go of your tits and gazed into your eyes, patting your thighs. "Here," He grunted and leaned back. Joel pulled his blue, stained work shirt over his hand and threw it onto the floor. You placed your hands on his chest and dragged them down to his jeans. His belt was already off. You reached inside his jeans and immediately felt his erection. Oh, he's hard. It was so sexy-the fact he was twitching and pulsing over you.

"Take your shorts off, I'll do this." Joel stated, beginning to mess with his pants. You nodded and stood up for just a moment, dropping down your silkly pants and leaving your pink, laced undies on. Joel finds them cute. You climbed back onto his lap as he pulled out his hard cock. It is long & girthy. You are a bit amazed, in all honesty. He's bigger than anyone you've been with. You can't wait to feel how he feels inside of you.

"Do you have a condom?" "Yeah, I do." Joel reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled one out. You were a bit confused as to why he already had one on him but you decided not to bother with it. You held onto him as he began to wrap himself up. The second that condom is on, it's game time. He pulled the rubber down... And down... And down. He's long, your mind isn't just playing tricks on you. You wonder how he'll feel once inside of your dripping cunt.

Joel's hand went to your panties and pulled them to the side. As he did that, you heard him groan. "You're fuckin' soaked. You get like this for just any guy?" "No... Not usually..." It was odd. No man has ever turned you on like this. Joel is different. He's a real man. "You're a dirty girl." He slid his index through your folds, causing you to shutter and grip onto his skin more firmly. "But you'll take my cock good, right?"

His words. The way he speaks. He's a pro. Let the water gates flood! You moaned and nodded. "Yes." "Good girl." Joel slapped your ass before gripping it and pulling you down onto his length. He gave you no time to adjust. You moaned and wrapped your arms around his neck once again, needing that closure. He was deep inside of you already. It feels... Different. You don't know if it's because he's bigger and longer or if it's because well, it's this guy.

For some reason, you have a feeling it's a mixture of both.

After testing the waters and feeling for what's best, you began to ride him. You grinded your hips back and fourth on his lap, his length teasing your inner walls. With each movement, even just the slightest, you'd earn a groan or a grunt out of Joel. "Fuck." Joel murmured, his hands squeezing your rear as you moved against him. "You're fuckin' tight." He praised you. "You spread your legs for just any guy then, huh? Dirty fuckin' girl." Joel degraded you.

Oddly enough, you found that hot.

You bit your lip and moved against him faster. Joel would occasionally spank you and you're sure there'll be red marks on both cheeks once he's done with you. It feels so good. Having this man deep within you is a pleasure and it's all yours. You moaned and tossed your head back and as you did, you felt his hand grip it and squeeze it. "Stay quiet, you hear? Don't need Sarah hearin' us." Joel stated to you. He's right.

But fuck, how can you stay quiet? This feels extraordinary. Just inside of you, you can feel his dick twitching. You're sure he hasn't had a good pussy like yours in awhile. You began to bounce on him and with each one, Joel seethed and held onto you tighter. "Look at ya, you know what you're doin'." He's right. You do. Maybe you are a whore, a slut, whatever, you don't care-just as long as he's the one calling you such names.

"Keep ridin' me like the fuckin' desperate girl you are. I saw you eye-fuckin me earlier, don't think you're slick." Well damn. You suppose he isn't stupid. You whimpered and rode him much faster & harder now. You began to mix your grinding and bouncing together, creating the ultimate pleasurable feeling. He let go of your neck and went back to holding your ass. He slapped it, hard, earning a squeak out of you. Such a good feeling this is.

You smashed your lips against his and licked his lower lip. Joel laughed and opened his mouth, allowing you to explore it. You slipped your tounge inside and smiled against his lips. The warmth of his mouth was comforting and a feeling that was only bringing you closer to the edge. His hands caressed your bum softly before spanking it once again and this time after spanking you, he began to move your hips forward, taking over.

"You've clearly been needin' this, hm? You a whore?" "No." Was all you managed you get up. Joel scoffed and kissed you again, this time moving his tongue roughly into your mouth. At the sudden kiss, you held onto him tighter. You can feel your orgasm building up, it's so very evident. He pulled away and spit drabbles off of your lips. "That right? You ain't a whore? You're sure as hell actin' like one." He then began to kiss your neck.

Those soft kisses. He planted numerous of them on the inner parts of your throat. You are so close. You're going to cum any moment now. "I feel... Joel..." You shuttered out, your body beginning to shake. "That'a girl, cum for me." With just a few more bounces and grinds, you finally hit your breaking point. You moaned loudly but Joel was quick to kiss you just to shut you up. You held onto the back of his head, pulling and tugging on his scraggly hair.

Joel held your waist in place as he began to thrust upwards. Each thrust made him realize how wrong yet right this feels/is. Fucking his own daughters best friend? Hell, what's gotten into him? At the same time however, he doesn't regret a damn thing.

One more thrust and boom, Joel's hot seed bursted into the rubber. He grunted and gripped your ass as he finished into the condom. You simply kept your head in the crook of his neck, trying to process this entire situation.

After he came down from his high, he patted your ass so you'd get off of him and you did. You plopped onto the couch and continued to breath rather heavily. That was intense, it was insane. You glanced over at Joel who simply picked his beer up and drank a big swig out of it. He's probably processing this just as you are. You don't know how to feel about all of this anyways.

He looked over at you and smirked. "Sarah don't need to know about this, yeah?" He stated as he began to fix his pants and throw his shirt back on. "Definitely." You nodded. This is your guy's little secret. "What do we do now...?" You murmured. "I'm goin' take my happy ass to bed but uh, my number is on the fridge door so if you ever need me, I'll be there." Joel winked and fixed his pants as he stood up.

That's it? He just fucked you and now leaves? Is every man like this? You scoffed and put your shirt back on. "What's the attitude for?" "Nothing. Hand me my pants." Joel leaned down and grabbed them, kneeling down and putting them past your ankles, pulling them up for you. "Don't take what we did personal, sweet thing. It was just another hookup for me, alright?" Just another hookup. Right.

You nodded, despite not agreeing. He is giving you his number so that's nice, you think? After getting fully dressed again, you sighed deeply and sat down on the couch. Joel drew himself closer to your face and planted and kiss on your cheek. "Don't ever tell anyone 'bout this, you hear?" "Mhm." You mumbled and pulled the brown blanket over you, just wanting to be covered up completely now.

He pulled away and gazed at you. "For the record, you are the best I've had in awhile." Was that meant to magically make you feel better? You snorted and rolled your eyes. "Okay then." You put plainly. He picked up his beer and began to slowly walk backwards towards the stairs. "Numbers on the fridge." Were the last words he said before he began to leave, heading back to his bedroom.

"Numbers on the fridge." You whispered to yourself and scoffed, turning off the lamp to your right and laying down on the couch. What a fucking evening this has been.

[physics-of-one-piece]

Merlot & Primroses (Doflamingo x Reader)

Chapter 1

(AO3 link)

Summary: Your husband’s brother finds you. Life with him and his sham of a family is as cold as the snow your husband was found buried in. You're going to wilt slowly living with Doflamingo, you’re sure. No flower can survive in such snow.

Tags: Doflamingo x Reader, Rosinante's Wife!Reader, Civilian!Reader, Female!Reader, Rosinante x Reader (mentioned through flashbacks), Murder, Mentions of Fratricide, Emotional Breakdown, Grief, Angst, Hurt, Post-Minion Island, North Blue Doflamingo, Red Suit Doflamingo, Doflamingo is His Own Warning, Celestial Dragon Traditions, Donquixote Brothers, Adult Themes, New Tags Added with Each Chapter

A/N: It's finally here. The Red Suit Doffy fic I've been working on since... (checks dates of the first chapter) September 2024. Damn. I've only got the first two chapters written, everything else is vibes, but I want it to be 8-10 chapters. I also wanted to explore Doflamingo's way (or lack thereof) with showing/wanting/offering physical affection. This post is great analysing it and is the one that inspired me to even start thinking of writing it deeper and Doflamingo's lack of offering touch, and his use of touch when he does choose it/want it. It just confirmed to me back then that Doflamingo is INCREDIBLY touch-starved and very very not aware of it which has the potential to be very dangerous. Especially North Blue Doflamingo. (shudders) Also... I'm not sorry about the GIF. If I had to suffer making it, you have to reward my suffering by suffering while watching it. It's only fair 🥺

Word Count: 11.7k words

Chapter Navigation: 1 (you are here), 2 , 3 , 4

Chapter 1

The moment you and Rosinante moved into your house in North Blue for Rosinante’s mission, you had no disagreements over furniture placements and colour configurations. You both adored white and blue, and light colours, so there weren’t a lot of disagreements. The one thing you and Rosinante immediately agreed upon was the colour of your bedroom’s walls, both the ceiling and the surrounding four walls — sky blue.

To Rosinante, it was his favourite colour, and to you, it reminded you of the sky and the sea. It reminded you of the sky blue dress shirt Rosinante wears under his white waistcoat when wearing his marine uniform as a Navy commander — the uniform he wore when you met him.

It’s the sky blue ceiling you wake up to.

You’re laying in the bedroom you share with your husband, no weight of your clumsy blond husband on the other side, drooling away and snoring — silently thanks to his Devil Fruit — in his sleep.

That’s the first thing you notice.

It’s silent. Unnervingly so.

You roll over, half-asleep, glancing toward the alarm clock on your desk beside the marine transponder snail.

It’s way past the time Rosinante should have contacted you to tell you of successfully healing Law by making him eat the Op-Op Fruit.

Aren’t they back yet?

They should’ve been back by now.

Rosi would have called you that they’re on their way by now. You could heat up the dinner leftovers, or… No, you’d start on another dinner! Minion Island is cold this time of year, and although you’d bought Law the warmest cloak you could find in the town, he would probably still feel an unpleasant chill. You’d make them warm soup easy on the stomach.

Or... or...

A cake! A cake to celebrate Law beating his disease for good, and Rosi’s official last self-given assignment as Corazón. He could finally remove that mantle for good.

You were definitely going to convince him to keep his black feather coat, though.

The weather must be bad. The North Blue Sea was infamous for its waves during the winter months. Or maybe they're laying low on Minion now that the marines have arrested the Donquixote Pirates.

But Rosi would have called you if they were staying low; he’d promised to call you.

The yellow transponder snail with the white and blue shell rings.

You lunge across the bed to reach it, lifting the receiver by the time the second ring sounds out, your heart leaping in relief — Rosi must be calling to tell you they’re okay, that Law is healthy now, that they will come home soon —

The voice that said your name wasn’t Rosinante’s.

“Vice Admiral Tsuru,” you said, eyes wide. You cleared your throat. “Yes, it’s me.”

“Your husband, marine commander Donquixote Rosinante…”

Why does Tsuru-san sound in pain?

“...is dead.”

The world stopped, turning completely silent.

All you could do was stare blankly.

What?

The last two words repeated in your head like a broken record.

Rosinante is dead. Rosinante is dead. Rosinante is dead.

Rosinante… is dead?

Those words didn’t belong with Rosinante’s name. Rosinante and the word dead didn’t belong in a sentence.

Shock left you mute, your head completely empty.

“We found him in the snow, with twenty bullet wounds. Sengoku confirmed his identity,” Tsuru’s voice sounded pained and hoarse. Then, the marine vice admiral abandoned her white coat, and said to you, woman to woman, “I’m so sorry.”

Your eyes filled with tears. It can’t be… it can’t be Rosi… not Rosi…

“He’s right here with me.” said Tsuru, while your hand around the receiver started to tremble. “We’re taking his body to Marineford. We’re sending a ship to escort you there tomorrow.”

Body. Body. Rosinante’s body.

Rosinante’s corpse. Your husband’s corpse.

“Understood.”

You put the receiver on the snail, its “Ga-chak.” filling the silence.

You can hear your heartbeat in your ears. The sound of it echoes in your head. Your sight blurs, and you lose sense in your legs. The next moment, you’re sitting numbly on the floor in the bedroom which you and Rosinante painted together, surrounded by the sky blue walls, tears running down your cheeks.

What just happened? What…

Seconds ago, you were thinking about what food to warm up if Rosinante and Law managed to come back at this time late at night.

Seconds ago, Rosinante was alive.

You shuddered, crying more tears.

Now, you'd just gotten a call he’s... dead? That they’re transporting his body to Marineford?

Shock numbed you. That didn’t make sense. Just three days ago, Rosinante slept beside you, his large body wrapped around you, keeping you tucked into his chest, keeping you warm. He’d been beside you, breathing, talking, smiling and alive.

In the snow? Twenty bullets in him? Twenty? Rosinante never got that many bullet wounds.

You grab at your throbbing head.

This can’t be real. It doesn’t make sense. Rosinante had been right here, which only felt like hours ago. He'd been right here with you, in this very room, his warm, soft lips kissing yours, his face snuggling in your neck, his blond curly hair between your fingers, his long arms wrapped snugly around you, his angelic laugh tickling your ear.

It’s not real. It’s not real, this is a nightmare, it’s not real. You’re having a nightmare. This isn’t real. It can’t be, it can’t —

“Rosi…” you whisper shakily, trembling. You choke on a breath. Your chest hurts.

Your mind struggled to catch up to your body, which was shaking, panting, tears streaming down your shocked face and open, wide eyes.

You realise your lungs are hurting, your breathing rapid — alarmingly, so.

You can’t breathe.

You can’t breathe.

You’re going to suffocate in the wave of your grief.

You rush outside. The air is cold. You inhale it greedily, foggy clouds sifting out of your mouth. Your chest felt painful while you gasped in the air. Your ribcage was squeezing in on itself. The cold air made you realise how warm the tears on your cheeks were.

You couldn’t stand anymore. You fell to your knees, and the sounds burst out of you; you started crying openly, loud, uncontrollable sobs leaving your mouth.

You screamed, howling into the sky, crying uncontrollably. The sounds your body produced, your lungs released, were heart-wrenching, full of agony.

You wept and wept, sobbed and screamed, hiccuped and choked, looking up at the starry night sky without really seeing it, tears streaming down your face as you howled in agony into the sky you used to watch together with Rosinante, crying toward the far-away stars.

All you could see was Rosinante, smiling brightly at you, his voice saying, “I love you!” filling your ears.

And your heart was wrenched open and killed.

Dead with your husband.

All you could do with the unbearable agony inside you was weep and howl like a dying, mourning animal.

***

How does betrayal feel like?

It feels like silence.

Silence of four years, a gap battled with taps on the den-den mushi and ink on paper.

It feels like the silence being broken by a voice. A voice not as deep as Doflamingo’s but sounding godly all the same, confident and calm, a softness Doflamingo’s didn’t possess.

His little brother’s voice, which Doflamingo mourned the loss of, not knowing he was mourning an empty lie. So many nights he spent thinking how Rosinante's voice would sound like as an adult, how his laugh would sound like, hoping maybe with time, he would hear it - one day, one day, one day — not knowing it was there all along and Rosinante had denied him all of it, had given it to the marines, to Law, to strangers Doflamingo didn't know.

Doflamingo hated them all.

Why did they get to have it and he didn’t?

Rosinante was his little brother, his family, his only equal, the only one who understood, the one who’d been through the same hell as he had... And yet, Doflamingo never got Rosinante back, never truly met his brother as an adult, not really. All Doflamingo got from Rosinante was a mask and silence, while they got everything.

All Doflamingo was given was a scrap, and lies.

So many lies.

Rosi — the one who gave his nickname to him because he couldn’t pronounce Doflamingo’s full name when he was two, shortening it into a harmless nickname full of fondness — didn’t even call him Doffy.

The first words Rosi said to him after four years of silence, after eighteen years of nothing, was his fucking marine code.

Rosi talked to him like they were strangers.

“You just had to go and screw everything up! Why did you come back just to mess with me, Corazón?!”

What Doflamingo meant by those words was: Why? Why did you come back? You should’ve stayed away from me if you hated me. Then this wouldn’t be happening! I wouldn’t have to do this if you’d stayed away from me!

The pain of betrayal is sharp and agonising.

Like a bullet.

Like red blood on white snow.

Doflamingo wouldn’t be surprised if he was bleeding in the same places Rosinante had, too.

Vergo’s words rang out in his head.

“Corazón has a wife.”

Doflamingo stared at the picture of you on the file Vergo sent him, staring down at your face.

At the one Rosinante gave everything to…

Finding out something like this...

It felt like... Like the first inhale of the fresh, clear sea morning, like the first bite into a feast after starving for a week, like the most pure, fresh water after a long trek in the desert.

Doflamingo thinks he understands now why Rosi didn’t stay away from him, why Rosi returned.

Because Rosi couldn’t stay away. If not for himself, then for his wife. Would Doflamingo be able to stay away, if he knew his brother was alive somewhere, with a wife, and hell, maybe planning to have a family? Would Doflamingo be the one considering a choice; stay away or meet? Cursed if you don’t, cursed if you do.

Would Doflamingo be able to do it?

He wouldn’t. He wouldn’t be able to stay away from Rosi, or from Rosi’s family. Because Doflamingo was family, too. Rosi’s family was Doflamingo’s family, too.

Just like now, Doflamingo couldn’t stay away from you. It was impossible. It felt like his own threads were pulling him toward you, urging themselves forth from his fingertips, reaching out to wrap around you, no matter how much he was sure you didn’t want them to.

Just like how Rosi couldn’t stay away from Doflamingo no matter how much he hated him, Doflamingo couldn’t stay away from you no matter how much he knew you hated him.

He just couldn’t. The thought was painful to bear, the mere image of staying away threatening to shred the last remaining piece of Doflamingo’s heart held together by strings.

“Doffy?” Vergo’s voice across the snail pulled Doflamingo out of his thoughts; he was still staring at your file, at the picture of you, at your name. “What do you want to do?”

Doflamingo got out of his chair, grabbing the pink feather coat that laid on it.

“I’m going to go get her,” he said, swinging the pink mantle over his shoulders. He grabbed a quill and parchment, writing down a note for Trebol and the others to find.

He looked outside. It was early in the morning; Vergo's call and documents he sent had woken him up. It was still dark out on the sea.

“Understood,” said Vergo without question. “Safe travels, Doffy.”

Doflamingo hummed in response, and put the receiver back down on the snail. He exited his cabin, walking to the balustrade of the ship, putting his right foot atop the rail. The wind was chilly, brushing at his face.

He still had a family. Rosinante had not only left Doflamingo behind.

He left a wife behind, too.

Doflamingo took to the sky.

***

Something burns on your skin. Your eyelids flutter open; the morning light sneaks in through the curtains, casting your eyes in the ray of gold. Your brows furrow in pain from the light hitting you.

You feel empty.

You woke in the puddle of your own misery. You've cried and howled yourself into sleep on the white carpet. You don’t know when you entered inside again after releasing the howl of agony into the night sky.

The house is empty.

Rosinante isn’t home yet.

That’s okay. You’ll wait. You’ve waited before. You can wait a bit more.

Rosi will come back.

He’ll come back.

It was just a bad dream.

You curl into yourself, tired.

Rosi always comes back, no matter what.

You’ll make pancakes… and you’ll wait for Rosi. You’ll make a lot of batter so you can make him and Law loads when they come back. They’ll be hungry after their trip.

Early dawn was outside, and the blue sky was painted with clouds.

A knock came at your door. You dragged yourself to it, and opened the doors.

A dark-skinned, handsome man dressed in marine uniform and coat towered above you, twice your height, nearly three meters tall. His dark, charcoal eyes were red-rimmed, revealing he’d been crying. His usually slicked-back, tidy white hair was rumpled and untidy, as though he’d wrestled with someone.

“Wulf,” you say, staring at the tall navy commander.

“Hey,” he whispers, voice hoarse and morbidly quiet. “Can I come in?”

You open the doors wider, letting him in. Wulf closes the doors behind himself, locking them with the key in the keyhole.

“I’ll go make you some tea,” you offered, hurrying to the light blue kitchen to place the kettle on the stove and grab a tea bag

“No,” he said. “I’m not here for…” He clenched his eyes shut. His large body shuddered.

“You can sit down while I —”

“I don’t want tea, dammit!” snapped Wulf.

His yell made you flinch, and you turned still.

“Fuck,” Wulf breathed, full of pain, tears glistening at his eyelashes. “Fuck.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, quieting his voice. “I’m sorry. Fuck.”

Wulf’s large body slumped down, landing on the large white couch. He lowered his head to the floor. His large, dark hands lifted up to his hair, grabbing at the thick strands tight. He closed his eyes, a look of pain on his face.

“It’s okay,” you offered quietly.

There was no emotion in your dull, lifeless eyes, empty of any spark. You could see how tired Wulf was. He probably didn’t sleep a wink. He looked an absolute mess. You weren’t ready to look in the mirror to see how much of a mess you were.

After what felt like an eternity of silence, Wulf spoke up. “We need to send a search party out for Law. He wasn’t the boy the Minion marine patrol took into custody.”

Search party? For Law? But that would mean… that would mean Wulf would have to explain to Sengoku who Law was.

“No,” you breathed.

“Huh?”

“Don’t you dare tell them about Law!”

Wulf’s eyes widened at the sudden surge of life in your dull eyes. You were tightly gripping the collar of his white dress shirt with both your hands, staring at him with a numerous amount of emotions filling your eyes, your face.

“If Law’s alive, they’ll go after him because he’s got the powers of the Op-Op Fruit!” you yelled at him. “Don’t you dare make Rosi’s death be for nothing!”

You froze.

Oh.

You said it.

Death.

That’s right.

Your fingers let go of Wulf’s collar.

Rosinante…

Died.

A chill swept through your body, making you shiver.

“Law,” you whisper, trying to keep yourself together, keeping your sanity stitched with the thoughts of the little boy. “We need to find Law.”

“Minion -”

“Why aren’t you and your team setting sail for it already?!” you asked desparately. What if Doflamingo sent his agents to scour the island? What if Law was...

“If I’m to ask for a marine ship, I need to give them a good reason!”

“You never did shit by the book, Wulf! That was Rosi!”

“Yeah, and I always got sent flying across Marineford by Sengoku for it, or did you forget that part?”

“I’ll call the patrol on Minion and tell them to look for Law.”

“No!” you yelled. “Doflamingo’s got a spy in the Navy! He’ll find out Law’s still there and find him before you!”

You could see Wulf’s thoughts racing in his head. “Then, I’ll send Hibou -”

“Hibou doesn’t fly fast enough! You can’t send him there alone! Law doesn’t trust marines!”

Wulf hesitated. “It took me and Rosi longer than a day to activate our Devil Fruits… Law might not be…”

“Law is a genius!” you yelled. “He’s going to be the best doctor in the world! Some stupid disease won’t kill him!”

Law was not dead. Your husband believed in Law, and you believed in Law, too. That kid was strong. Stronger than you were.

Law had fallen asleep reading on your lap. You put a blanket over him, but anytime you tried to remove yourself from him, the boy would murmur disagreeably, clutching onto your pants with his tiny fingers in his sleep. Rosinante cooed over him, snapping a few pictures of Law — and some of the two of you — with the camera snail because you two were the most adorable sight on the planet, according to the younger Donquixote. But you could see it in his brown eyes. Rosinante was worried sick for Law.

“Don’t worry, Rosi,” you said, reaching out with your free hand — the other one was running gently down Law’s dark hair — to take your husband’s much larger one, settling it over his scarred, pale palm.

“Our boy is too strong to die,” you said firmly.

The touch and words appeared to break Rosinante out of the pit of his thoughts, the blond man sitting beside you turning to look at you, wide-eyed.

“Our?” asked Rosinante in a whisper.

“What?” you asked, blinking.

Rosinante sniffled. His eyes glazed over, his lips trembling. Before you could see what was wrong with him, the blond turned away from you shyly.

“Rosi, are you crying?” you asked, worried.

“N-No!” squeaked the big, blond man, hiding his face in the pillow of the white couch of the home you shared, wiping at his teary eyes. “No, what are you talking about? I’m not crying!”

You smiled softly, a swell of affection blooming within you, overwhelmed by love you felt for him. Rosinante was so kind and gentle, with a truly bleeding heart. It was one of the reasons you fell in love with him on first sight — his kindness and clumsiness won you over right away.

“Our, huh?” murmured Rosinante softly.

“Yeah,” you confirmed, making sure there was no question about it. You were willing to die for the boy sleeping on your lap. You were willing to fight the entire world for this boy, were willing to die for him. “He’s our boy now.”

“Yeah.” The smile lit up Rosinante’s face, casting him in heavenly light; he looked like an angel, his soft brown eyes staring gently down at the sleeping boy. “He is.”

“Our treasure.” whispered Rosinante, reaching down to caress Law’s cheek with his fingers.

Wulf took a breath.

“Okay. If there is a spy, as you say, I’ll call Sengoku-san directly to lock down Rosi’s file.” Wulf shuddered. He looked down at you, full of worry. “If Doflamingo finds out about you, he’ll come to kill you. I’ll put Nietzche and Hibou on patrol around this island, and the rest of us will head to Minion -”

“No,” you said, something burning inside you. The next words came out of your mouth on instinct. “Use me as a lure.”

Wulf’s eyes widened. “What?”

“Use me as a lure,” you said, meeting Wulf’s gaze. “It’ll keep Doflamingo’s attention off of Minion Island long enough for you to get Law away. If Doflamingo comes, he comes. I know how to shoot a gun.”

Wulf frowned, disliking the idea entirely. “You don’t know what he’s -”

“Doflamingo killed him.”

The words are out. Because both of you knew. You and Wulf knew Rosinante wouldn’t get killed so easily. Nobody could kill Rosinante except Doflamingo, because Rosinante would have fought them tooth and nail, and there was no way anyone on Minion Island could have given Rosinante trouble — not even those top executives — except Doflamingo.

If it came down to having to directly hurt Doflamingo, you knew Rosinante wouldn’t be able to do it. You never faulted him for it. In fact, you loved him for it. You would never ask Rosinante to do such a thing, even if your own life was on the line. You’d rather die than force him to make such a choice, to even think about it.

Rosinante loved his brother more than anything, no matter what.

But it seemed Doflamingo loved power more than he loved Rosinante.

It sickened you. It infuriated you. Rosinante could never hurt Doflamingo, not for duty, not for revenge, not for anything. So how could Doflamingo hurt Rosinante?

“His only family… And Rosi told me enough to get a glimpse of what his brother is like. So if he finds out, he finds out. He’ll come here, and you all - all six of you, will go to Minion Island while he wastes time coming here, and you’ll take Law away from there.”

For a moment, Wulf said nothing, simply staring at you with his dark, black eyes, momentarily surprised by your words.

“You… aren’t trying to follow Rosi, are you? Because you know… you know he’d want you to stay alive, to take care of that kid.”

Chills rose on your spine, but they weren’t of fear. You didn’t raise your head. You simply lifted your eyes to Wulf’s, and let him see what was within them.

It wasn’t sadness, or a wish for death. It was determination, burning and fierce, mixed with burning fury.

Wulf sighed in defeat. He could tell by your eyes you weren’t going to back down from this.

“I’ll call in some favours for a ship. I’ll call you when I have everything ready.”

Wulf said your name.

“He killed my brother in arms.” said Wulf darkly. “It’s not just you or me who wants him dead.”

Wulf turned his head over his shoulder to gaze at you, his eyes full of bloodlust. “The crows are hungry for Doflamingo’s blood.”

“Shut the door after me,” Wulf said, then left.

You did just that. You walked back to the kitchen, breathing in and out. Your stomach felt empty. You needed to eat something.

Pancakes.

If it’s going to be your last meal, you want it to be a good one. Therefore, the pancakes with chocolate syrup is the best decision for the last meal. An easy, simple meal.

Your fingers tremble.

You can’t believe Rosinante is gone.

Simply… gone.

How are you supposed to wake up tomorrow knowing Rosinante will never be lying beside you again?

Tears well in your eyes. You take a breath, swallowing them down. You’re not allowed to cry again. Not yet. Not until you know Law is safe.

You head up the stairs to change from your night dress, heading back to yours and your husband’s bedroom. You survey your wardrobe.

Before you know it, you’re opening Rosinante’s part of the wardrobe, taking one of his blue shirts from the hanger, hugging it tight to your chest.

You kept holding on to the calm you got with him. You hold onto the scent of him you’ve come to know; coal and citrus, woody smells that he always wore that felt like a hug around your shoulders.

For a while, you sit on the bed, holding your husband’s shirt, trying to pretend he was there when you knew he wasn’t. Eventually, you returned back to the terrible reality, and put his dress shirt back on the hanger.

Light blue. You decide if you are going to get killed by your brother-in-law today, you want to die in light blue. It was Rosi’s favourite colour, and you grew a love for it over the years. You need somewhere to conceal a weapon. You grab black pants, put the light blue blouse over yourself, and get dressed.

You open the drawer in your night table, staring down at the small, black revolver. You pick it up, check the safety hammer is on, then check the cylinder holding six sea stone prism bullets. Loaded, ready to be fired.

You holster it under your blouse, making sure you can reach it quickly.

It’s silent. So silent.

You’ve never heard silence quite this loud.

You head to the kitchen to make the pancakes. You wished you’d made them before Wulf arrived; he needed something to eat.

The day is sunny, the birds are chirping in the trees. But there is a somber, mourning silence in your house. You gather the bowl to crack the eggs in and make the batter.

Rosi would already be stumbling out of your bedroom by now, dressed in his blue striped pyjamas, his blue sleeping hat atop his head, his sleepy face endearing in a handsome way, his blond waves of bed head swept in all directions, his hands rubbing the sleep off his eyes before he stretched his arms out and yawned to the point tears edged at his lower eyelashes.

Then, he’d see you and smile like the sun before greeting you with a happy, sweet, “Good morning!”

You look out of the window. The scenery in front of you is so vibrant, green forest and blue river. Doesn’t it know all your life has died? The most colourful painting is worthless to you.

You make the batter without having to think too much about it, so used to the movements they became second nature to you, just as fighting was second nature to Rosinante. You start the stove, listen to the clicking sound of the fire, adjust it, and set the frying pain on it, spreading butter along it. Then, you pour the batter in. The smell of the pancakes soothes you, and once the side is fried well, you flip it, and wait for the bubbles again.

They remind you of gunshot wounds.

Twenty gunshot wounds. Were they all from Doflamingo’s flintlock? Did the fucking bastard put twenty bullets in your husband, treating your husband like he was swiss cheese?

You set the first pancake on the plate, and make twenty more. You take the chocolate syrup and spread it over each one thoroughly with a butter knife, then roll the pancakes. You sprinkle sugar over them, and serve them at the center of the table.

“Look, Law! Pancakes!” cheered Rosinante happily to the little boy with the spotted hat trailing after his long legs like a baby penguin after its father; you held back a giggle at the two sleepyheads, smiling gently at them. 

Rosinante greeted you with a kiss, getting a “get a room!” from Law, and then he sat down at the table and inhaled the smell of the pancakes. 

“Ah, they smell so good, dear!” said Rosinante, smiling brightly at you.

“Come on, Law! Don’t be shy!” said Rosinante, patting the chair next to his. “This is my wife’s masterpiece! After you taste her pancakes, you’ll never want to eat anything else for the rest of your life! You can live on pancakes!”

“You can’t live on pancakes,” grumbled Law.

“Well, if you do end up liking them and want more, I’ve got more batter in the bowl, so I’ll make you more if you want, okay, Law?” you asked.

Law blushed. “Thank… you…”

You glanced at Rosinante questioningly, speaking with your eyes to him. Did Law not have pancakes with the Donquixote Pirates? Rosinante shook his head sadly, in a way that told you Law didn’t let himself be a kid, so he never ate ‘kid stuff’ like pancakes. 

Tentatively, Law took the rolled up pancake, and after glancing to Rosinante, who was eating his own with his hands — the pancake looked miniature in your husband’s fingers, almost like a toy — chomping down on the roll enthusiastically, Law did the same.

You nearly squealed from the cuteness as you watched the two eat.

Law’s eyes widened after the first bite, and then they lit up, filling with light. A small, tiny smile bloomed across his face, and he stared at the pancake with child-like joy.

There he was. A little boy, not a tough, pirate apprentice.

Law quickly devoured the pancake, the little smile on his face filling you with joy. You smiled happily.

Once Law realised he’d eaten the single pancake he took, he glanced from the plate, then toward you, and asked, “Can I have another?”

Rosinante cooed. “You can have my entire plate, you cute little pancake!”

To prove how much he meant it, Rosinante slid his plate of a pile of rolled-up pancakes to the little boy.

Law scowled, though to you it looked more like a cute, indignant pout with his cheeks puffed up that way.

“I’m not a pancake, Cora-san!” Law protested, for which he got a fond chuckle from Rosinante, who simply beamed down at him.

You giggled. They were so cute.

“Of course. You can have as much as you want, Law.” you said softly, smiling gently at the boy.

Law nodded, that little smile sneaking onto his face again.

You stared at the plate loaded with twenty rolled-up pancakes.

You made too much.

Tears started flowing down your eyes again, uncontrollable and wet. You wipe them from your cheeks, sniffling. But they keep coming out, so you let them cascade down your cheeks, letting them roll in silence as you sit down, murmur a sob-filled, “Thank you for the food.” and grab one pancake from the plate and force yourself to eat it.

The taste is great. But your taste buds can’t appreciate it. You start sobbing halfway, and your hands slide up to your face, covering your eyes. You rest your head on the dining room table and cry your eyes out into your forearms, hiccups and sobs shaking your body.

You can’t do this. You can’t do this. You can’t, you can’t...

It hurts too much. You're going to be sick —

Rosi... Rosi!

Your cries and sobs echo across the kitchen tiles, creating a tragic symphony.

After you’d cried yourself out to the point your chest hurts and your throat feels sore, you eat the pancake to the end.

Outside, the azure sky is impossibly clear. The cicadas are so loud. They make the loss of Rosinante’s silence more deafening. You’ve always had too sensitive and too precise of a hearing; you could hear droplets from a well ten meters away, and the slightest rustling of the leaves in the wind. You could pick up who was approaching you by the sound and weight of their footsteps — a thing that freaked some people out. It wasn’t any devil fruit; you stayed away from devil fruits because you had no need of them working as a translator for the marines, and you liked to swim.

Rosinante told you it could be a form of Observation Haki. Apparently, the advanced, one-in-a-million Observation Haki users are able to hear people’s inner voices. That sounded absolutely terrifying to you. How didn’t people go insane with that? It wasn’t an ability you wanted, and thankfully, your hearing didn’t seem to reach that crazy, abnormal level.

Rosinante was practically your sound therapy with his Devil Fruit. He made the world around you go silent, muted all the noises, be it the spinning of a washing machine, the shrieking of the birds, the insistent meowing of an alley cat, the barking dogs, the annoying cicadas that you thought about committing arson over by setting the entire forest on fire…

“Honey, that’s illegal. Also, I’m the one usually setting fire to stuff, it’s my whole thing!” Rosinante was genuinely distressed. He gave you a pleading look, pursing his lips, which started to quiver and tremble, his eyes filling with tears as he cried — his sad puppy look,which immediately melted your heart, making you coo internally. He was absolutely adorable. “You can’t do my thing!”

Rosinante snapped his fingers. “Silent!”

A purple sphere came alive, momentrily floating above his finger, and then enlarged, pulling the two of you into its space. All sound from outside vanished.

You launched yourself at him and hugged him, wrapping your arms around his neck, your legs around his wide waist. “I love you, Rosi! I love your Devil Fruit!”

Rosinante’s face grew deeper shades of red by the passing second, until, quite literally, the gathered temperature exploded in a burst of steam out of his ears, and your husband combusted into flames.

“I love you!” he yelled, peppering you with kisses, pulling you onto his lap, making you giggle and laugh. You squeezed your tall husband’s back as much as the length of your arms allowed you to.

“I love you more,” you said, staring up at him lovingly.

“Nuh-uh,” said Rosinante, his face turning serious. “I love you mo —”

You shut him up with a kiss, burying your fingers in his soft, silky golden hair, pulling him down to you.

Rosinante smiled into the kiss, admitted defeat, and enveloped your lips in a deep, long kiss, his hands coming up to cradle your head, his fingers warm and sweet on your cheek.

In the end, with how breathless and flushed Rosinante left you, you thought you were the defeated one in the end.

You can’t take it anymore. You want out. Out of this house that is full of memories of the happiness you two had, of so much potential, now silent like a grave.

You get your bag, grab some cash to buy groceries to make for lunch. Rosinante wouldn’t want you to wallow in misery, much less not eat. He was always fussy about making sure you ate, always insisting on serving you seconds, and you knew why. It broke your heart.

You reach the small port town, passing by people, your eyes unfocused, lost in memories. Your feet are leading you somewhere, a familiar path which you and Rosinante took many times.

You remembered when he surprised you the first time he managed to sneak away after completing his first mission for Doflamingo ahead of schedule, bearing you gifts, unaware his presence was the greatest gift to you of all.

In the early morning, your husband dragged you out of bed for a “surprise”. It would have been a normal, endearing, funny wake-up call if your husband’s arm wasn’t nearly the length of your entire body. Being dragged out of bed by Rosinante’s excited arm felt like being launched by a slingshot from one point to another.  And of course, the landing point ended up being Rosinante’s body, and because it was Donquixote Rosinante, he failed to consider his own pull strength — once again, slingshot fast — and that was how you ended up falling on his chest. He, of course, as the good marine he was, caught you so you don’t get hurt, and once more failed to take another of his natural skills into account.

His clumsiness. 

With a shriek as panicked as your own — albeit for different reasons — Rosinante moved to catch you, tripped midway and fell forward at the same time as you impacted him, and you ended up crashing into him midway on his fall, and he fell on his back rather than his front, you atop his chest. 

After you two looked at each other to check the other was okay, the two of you burst out into giggles on the floor.

Rosinante excitedly told you to get dressed (you chose a white summer dress), brought his backpack and led you through the island by the hand, still dressed in his pirate outfit of white trousers, pink shirt and black feather coat, smiling the entire way. You loved the feather coat, and you couldn’t help but comment how he and Doflamingo were now truly “bird brothers”. The look Rosinante gave you at that comment made you laugh for a minute straight, especially when he dramatically pulled off his purple sunglasses to blink at you repeatedly.

You two walked for a while. You told Rosinante about your days, how everyone was very helpful and welcoming, and let him know about the invitation for a barbeque party tomorrow, and Rosinante agreed — he did have to meet the other marines on the island, along with their families. 

Rosinante came to a stop in front of a steep hill. 

“It’s right up this way,” said Rosinante, smiling in that adorable way that made him even more handsome. “I’ll carry you up.”

You gulped.

“Are you sure you can trek this, Rosinante?” you asked, holding some doubts. You’d seen your husband fall down the entire fifty meter flight of stone stairs of Marineford like a bouncing ball many times when you met him, and this hill had plenty of rocky, dirt-covered terrain.

You could already imagine Rosinante rolling down it like a pancake covered in black feathers. Or... Like an ostrich.

This hill and forest looked like something for hikers, and no offense to Rosinante, but he and hiking don’t go hand in hand, so your hesitation was well-founded.

“Yup,” said Rosinante, beaming down at you. “Up you go, mi amor.”

Without much arguing from you — because you’d never refuse being carried bridal style by your favourite man in the world, falling to your death be damned — he perched down, bending his knees to be at your height, and picked you up carefully, one hand under your knees, the other on your back.

It’s comfortable. Rosinante is warm, his long, strong arms cradling you close to his chest like the most precious treasure, and you feel like a princess swathed in the black feathers of his feather coat and his embrace. You close your eyes, resting your head on his chest, on the soft fabric of his pink dress shirt scattered with hearts.

Rosinante started uphill, trekking upon the soil with the confidence of a man who braved deep snow, heavy rain and thick mud many times throughout his life. Large, lush pine trees towered around you, the forest rich with fresh air that mixed with the soft coal scent of your husband. You pass by moss-covered rocks, glimpse squirrels curiously looking down at the giant, lanky blond man from their branches high above, chipping away at pine cones and walnuts in their tiny fingers. Their big brown eyes reminded you of Rosinante’s. After five minutes of Rosinante climbing uphill, the terrain turns flat, and he walks through the thicketed vegetation, the leaves of high bushes and branches brushing across his waist. Sunlight sneaks through the canopy of the trees, touching you and him occasionally, dappling you two in warm light.

“Okay,” said Rosinante. “I’ll put you down now.”

After he puts you down to the ground, Rosinante takes your hand, twining his long fingers between the spaces of yours, and leads you through the maze of greenery, further and further, deeper into the forest, where it becomes more quiet with every step. His long fingers, tucked between yours, holding your hand tight, chase away any anxiety or insecurity you might feel in the new, unknown surrounding.

A high, towering wall of leaves and shrubs conceals your view to whatever lies ahead.

“Close your eyes.”

You chuckle, but do so.

“Wait here,” Rosinante told you. “Don’t open your eyes!”

You laugh. “I won’t.”

You put your free hand over your closed eyes to reassure him of it.

Rosinante’s long fingers — calloused from training, falling and scarred from all the battles he won and survived — slide out of the embrace of yours.

You wait for a few minutes, wondering what sort of surprise he must have for you. You couldn’t hear anything. Rosinante must have used his Devil Fruit so you can’t hear what he’s doing. All you can hope for is that your sweet husband’s ‘surprise’ doesn’t involve anything flammable.

“Okay!” Rosinante chirped behind you, making you shriek and leap at the sudden revelation of his presence, which made him chuckle. “Ready?”

You peek through your fingers to look at him. Rosinante’s smile and excitement is infectious, making you smile to the point your cheeks hurt.

“Yup,” you said.

“Hey!" your husband scolds when he notices your eyes between the tiny space of your fingertips. “No peeking!”

You huff, but relent, covering your eyes fully again.

Rosinante takes your hand, and leads you forward. You keep your eyes closed. Leaves brush over your face, and you feel the warmth of the sunlight on your skin again.

“Okay... Three... Two...”

“One.”

You opened your eyes, gasping at the sight. In front of you and Rosinante was a blooming field of blue forget-me-nots, forming a large circle around the pine forest.

There, among the blue flowers, was a picnic blanket, a picnic basket filled with food atop it.

A giddy smile on his face, pleased with your joy at his successful surprise, Rosinante led you by the hand toward the picnic blanket where all the food awaited.

You two sit down beside each other. You can’t speak; you’re completely speechless.

Rosinante had made you an entire feast; there were rice balls, black bean soup, chocolate cream cakes, muffins with chocolate chips, grilled toast with melted cheese that made your mouth water at the mere sight of it, blackberries and black risotto with chopped cuttlefish meat. 

Rosinante was by no means a lousy cook, in fact, he was quite good at cooking (you were surprised by it the first time, too, especially when he told you he spent a lot of time cooking with Sengoku when he was a kid) but he had to be monitored so he doesn’t set the entire house on fire.

When you opened the container holding the black risotto, hot steam surged out. The black risotto smelled absolutely heavenly. It tasted heavenly, too — it was the perfect amount of ingredients and flavours that you moaned aloud.

Dear gods, Rosinante’s black risotto was to die for. It was one of the meals both you and your husband enjoyed, eating it at a restaurant in Marineford every Friday on your lunch break together even before you’d started dating. The black colouring of the food was due to the squid ink used in the recipe. You both loved it so much that it became your go-to food to make.

Rosinante pulled out a champagne bottle from the basket, further impressing you.

“I snatched this one from Doffy’s liquor cabinet. 1480.” Rosinante smirked smugly, waving the bottle victoriously. “He should’ve drank it while he could.”

You laughed. Rosinante may not talk good things about his brother, but stealing liquor from his brother was a very sibling thing to do. It was clear Rosinante loved pulling pranks on Doflamingo.

While Rosinante said this, removing the golden foil, distractedly unwinding the cage, his eyes focused on you, he forgot to move the bottle away from himself.

The cork launched out of the seal with a loud pop. By some stroke of luck, the cork missed hitting Rosinante’s head, but the golden liquor bursting with bubbles did not. After you heard the satisfying pop, all you could do was stare in shock as champagne sprayed your husband in the face.

His golden waves of hair sogged like a wet dog’s, sparkling liquid running down his cheeks, trailing across his pale neck, sliding down his collarbone and over his chest, staining his wet shirt.

“Rosi!” you cried. “Are you okay?”

Rosinante laughed softly, rich and warm.

“I’m okay,” he replied, looking down at you in that tender, gentle way that filled your heart and made butterflies fly in your stomach.

His long tongue flicked out, licking along his lips, tasting the champagne he spilled. You feel your face flush when you realise you’d looked at his tongue attentively.

“Tastes good,” he said.

You chuckled fondly, watching champagne drip from his golden bangs. “I’m sure it does.”

“Does it smell good?” he asked as you reached for a towel in the basket. You sat between his sprawled, spread out, long legs, brushing off the liquid you could spot.

“Yeah,” you said, chuckling, continuing to pat his face and shirt. It smelled fresh. “It does.”

Rosinante smiled goofily. He gave you your glass, then poured the champagne, and next poured it to himself in his own.

“What do we toast to?” he asked.

“Love and health?” you suggested.

“Love and health!” agreed Rosinante. “Salud!”

“Salud!”

The two of you clinked your champagne glasses together, then drank a few sips of champagne. Rosinante took two large gulps of it instead of humble sips.

When the plastic plates were all cleaned up and the food was gone, stored away in your stomachs, you asked him the question you had since the start of this surprise date, “When did you cook all this?”

“After you fell asleep.” Rosinante’s long arms wrapped around you, a movement he started doing by instinct with how many times he’d done it. You leaned back into him, sinking into his embrace, comfortable between his legs. “The muffins and chocolate cakes are bought. I bought them first thing in the morning, while you were still sleeping.”

You smiled; your husband had always been sneaky, both literally and figuratively.

The blond hung his head sullenly, looking like a sad puppy. He puffed out smoke to the side, mindful not to blow it in your face. “Sorry, my love. I’m no good at baking…”

“It’s the thought that counts,” you said, leaning into his strong body and planting a kiss on his cheek, which made him perk up, a sweet blush painting his cheeks, soon followed by his goofy smile. “And what you did cook is delicious, as were the cakes and muffins you bought.”

“Thank you, Rosinante.” you said, full of joy. “This is beautiful.”

Rosinante chuckled, a charming, gentle, yet deep sound. It made your heart race in your chest. It still didn’t feel real that this wonderful man was yours. The knowledge of it rushed goosebumps up your spine.

To think you’d find a true prince charming in this world. He had come straight down from heaven and accidentally bumped right into you. He was straight out of a fairytale, brown eyes and golden locks of wavy hair tickling his earlobes.

Rosinante looks so pretty, like an angel.

“It’s nothing to thank me for.” Rosinante’s long fingers laced between the spaces of yours, his wedding ring pressing against yours. “You always take care of me. It's my job to take care of you, too, you know. It’s nice to be away from Marineford. I get you all to myself.”

Rosinante’s lips lifted into a sly, flirtatious smile, his eyes lowering to your lips, a hint of hunger flashing in his brown eyes. “And we’re all alone… this place is pretty well hidden.”

You picked up on his meaning and smiled brightly. Your hand slid up his chest, carefully tracing along the hearts on the pink fabric, along his strong, firm shoulder, brushing against his nape, sliding up into the blond, golden curls of his soft hair, running your fingers through it slowly. All the while, Rosinante’s body leaned closer and closer to yours like a magnet of north finding its south, his large hand settling on the middle of your back, pulling you flush to him, towering over you, until all you could see, smell and breathe was him.

“Is that so, commander…” you murmured, meeting his intense gaze with half-lidded eyes.

Rosinante cradled your chin between his thumb and index finger, brought your face up to his, his half-lidded eyes soft and hungry, a charming curve of his lips rendering you breathless. Your breath hitched, staring into his intense gaze — in that moment, you saw the heavenly, commanding intensity inside your husband’s seductive eyes, lighting a fire in your chest. You were being looked at by a real god.

Rosinante kissed you, soft and deep.

“I’m back,” you say to the empty field of blue flowers.

You lay down among the field of the blue forget-me-nots and close your eyes, hoping the flowers will swallow you. Hoping they will enter your lungs, suffocate you, and end you, give you your last, final, living breath. Your tears soak the blue petals of the flowers you and Rosinante used to lay among.

Rosinante used to lie right here beside you, the halo of his blond curly hair shining among the blue blossoms.

Now, there is only the gaping hole of sorrow, a void. An emptiness. You don’t feel anything.

You closed your eyes, clutching Rosinante’s picture tightly between your fingers. You lay there on your side, crying silently among the blue petals where you and your husband once laid together.

No one ever told you that grief feels like fear. You are not afraid, but the sensation is like being afraid. The same terrible sinking in the stomach, the same restlessness, the same yawning hole.

It sinks in.

Rosinante isn’t coming home to you.

***

“Excuse me?”

The owner of the flower shop jumped at the deep voice. She turned, and had to look up, and then had to look up more, and then some more, and stared at a handsome man with blond, spiked-up hair, dressed in a red suit with a red tie, sunglasses concealing his eyes.

“Do you know where the Donquixote residence is?” the man asked.

“If you’re looking for Commander Rosinante, he’s away on marine business.”

The stranged blinked - or at least, she assumed he did, by his expression.

“You don’t know?” the exceptionally tall man asked.

“Know what, sir?”

“Rosinante is dead,” the blond man in the red suit delivers the terrible news bluntly, calmly, without any deep emotion, as though he’s telling her about the weather; it reminds her of veteran marines who have seen too much death and have grown used to it. He is staring down at her, into her eyes, with a serious look.

“Oh goodness!” the florist cried, eyes wide. “That poor man... When did it happen?”

“Yesterday evening,” said the blond man blatantly, his voice still calm, his expression still serious. “The news coo hasn’t flown out yet, so only the marines and family know for now. He’ll be in the obituary today or tomorrow.”

“I see... So you’re looking for —”

“His wife,” said the man.

The florist pursed her lips. The man with the unnerving resemblance to Commander Rosinante, despite being devilishly handsome and appearing not to have a single evil bone in his body or hold any malicuious intent, was still a stranger to her.

“Please,” the man with the hair the colour of the yellow primroses says, a desperation in his face. “I’d like to surprise her. Cheer her up. We haven’t seen each other a long time. She shouldn’t be alone.”

The flower shop owner’s heart throbbed at the words and the look of raw pain on the tall man’s face. She had no idea Commander Rosinante had died… and yesterday evening, at that… That was why you’d been wandering around aimlessly, like you were a ghost not meant fo stay in the world. You must have gotten the news… you poor thing.

“Mrs Donquixote lives in a house near the river,” said the shop owner. She pointed to the right end of the cobblestone street. “You take a right there, then a left. It’s a bit farther in the richer district, but that’s the sort of accomodations a Commander and his wife deserve. I can’t believe he's gone… He was such a wonderful man. His son will be devastated.”

The tall man tensed up, flinching.

(In that moment, Donquixote Doflamingo experienced a small heart attack thinking he was an uncle and there was a baby with you — his brother’s baby.)

“...son?” he breathed; his entire tone of voice changing, he sounded shocked and hesitant.

“This little boy. Law, I think. ” The man’s body slumped, as though he was relieved. “He was the sweetest thing. Quiet, but what sick child wouldn’t be? He always clung to Commander Rosinante when I saw them in town. No doubt Commander took him from the battlefield. I suppose he took the boy to the marines to try to find his parents, or to ensign him into the force.”

The blond man’s lips twitched slightly. “I see… Thank you for the help.”

The man turned to leave.

“She likes primroses,” blurted the shop owner. She glanced to the man’s glazed-up hair, and then to the yellow primroses - Mrs Donquixote’s favourite flowers - and was struck dumb.

The sharply dressed man’s blond hair was the exact same colour as the flowers.

“Like your hair, sir.”

“My hair?” asked the man.

The florist nodded. “Yellow primroses.”

The man smiles, and once more, the woman is hit by how similar to Commander Rosinante he looks - so similar he could be his brother! What a strange resemblance!

“Then, a bouquet of yellow primroses, please,” says the man dressed in the merlot suit, handing over a bill of five thousand berri. “And keep the change.”

“Oh, no, no, dear.” she said with a shake of her head, arranging the bouquet of yellow flowers, not taking the offered bill. “You keep your money. Just get her these, all right?”

The man’s mouth opened in a slight ‘o’, and he stared at her in surprise. He looked goofy, and so similar to the same expression Commander Rosinante made when he was shocked or taken by surprise.

However, he nodded, accepting the flowers.

“And... stay by her side.” The florist said. “Don’t let her be alone.”

An emotion crossed the man’s tanned, handsome face; he looked like he was in pain.

The blond man pulls the bouquet of yellow flowers to his chest, his long, puppeteer-like fingers holding them protectively.

“I will,” he promised.

He turned and left in the direction of the Donquixote residence. The florist was unable to keep her eyes off of him. What a sharp-looking, well-dressed man…

And so handsome! Oh, if she was only thirty years younger, she would have definitely asked him for his transponder snail number, or whatever the youth use these days.

***

The moment he was out of the small town, Doflamingo used his strings and flew high into the air, using the same basic of given directions to locate your house.

It didn’t take him long to find the river, and as he approached the flatlands of the island, he saw many houses scattered around. Probably those of families of retired high-ranking marine officers and their families. likely from other high-ranked retired marines and their families.

Doflamingo landed in front of the wooden fence surrounding a garden. A white, two-story house stood down the garden.

Doflamingo saw rows of cabbages beside the dirt path, their green leaves shielding the plant’s head. There was a roofed porch leading to the entrance doors. The garden fence didn’t even reach to his knees. Doflamingo stepped over it.

It looked rather a lot like a farmhouse, but without the farm — Doflamingo would have heaved if there were farm animals around being used for sustenance — and with the garden and yard.

A crow gave a caw. Doflamingo turned to the sound, and nearly cut a human-like silhouette’s head off with his strings.

It was a scarecrow. Not any scarecrow. Doflamingo stood eye-level with it, staring at the shiny red sunglasses, white dress shirt and white capri pants with red flame patterns the scarecrow of hay wore.

Doflamingo’s lips twitched; he felt like laughing, and barely withheld it not to make any noise. It was certainly a likeness.

Corazón must have stolen one of his sunglasses for it.

Chuckling, Doflamingo prowled toward the porch, and stood in front of the entrance doors.

Should he knock?

Doflamingo smiled maliciously, full of menace.

No.

Donquixote Doflamingo, hands in the pockets of his merlot suit pants, kicked down the doors of his sister-in-law’s house.

“Honey, I’m home!” he called.

The only sound in the space lit by the windows letting the light in was the whoosh of the curtains.

“Huh…?”

She isn’t even home to be surprised!

Scoffing in annoyance at his entrance being ruined by not having you witness it, Doflamingo entered through the door frame into the living room lit by natural light coming from the curtains.

“Tch.”

Guess she’s still in town. Did she go to buy groceries for lunch?

“Hm?”

A large picture caught his attention.

Oh.

You’re beautiful.

It was a picture of you, Rosinante, and Law. All of you are smiling at the camera, showing the peace sign. Doflamingo stares at his little brother’s big smile, because it’s the first time he sees it on him, having never seen it on his brother as an adult.

Doflamingo’s mouth forms into a sneer.

Thinking you could have your cake and eat it too, huh, Corazón? You bastard. You liar. You traitor.

Doflamingo exhaled. It didn’t matter anymore. Your husband’s sins were not yours. His brother already paid for his betrayal, and Doflamingo had forgiven him for it. You were a Donquixote by marriage with his brother, therefore, you were under Doflamingo’s protection, and the only real family he had left. As the head of the Donquixote family, since your husband was gone, your care, happiness and health were Doflamingo’s responsibility now. In Mariejois, the head of the family is expected to care for the close family members such as this. Celestial Dragons leave no family behind. If you and Doflamingo were in Holy Land, he would do the same; do anything to provide for you, take you into his home, care for you.

By Celestial traditions and rules of the Holy Land, you belong to Doflamingo now.

Doflamingo frowns. It’s an entire life here, in these pictures. A life Doflamingo never knew about, never asked about. Because he’d trusted his little brother.

A life Doflamingo was completely left out of.

Reading about the Fleet Admiral adopting his brother was one thing, seeing his little brother, dressed in marine cadet garb, shyly looking at the camera with Sengoku’s hand on his shoulder was another. More people started appearing in the pictures as his brother grew, as he got leaner and stronger, as he cut his bangs not to cover his eyes anymore, and eventually, you were in the pictures with his brother, too — it was so unbearably obvious you two were going to be together by the way you two smiled, by the way you held each other, your body languages speaking with the way you leaned toward each other — that when he arrived to the single photo of the two of you in the living room in Water 7 (undoubtedly tyour honeymoon destination), it felt like you and his brother had been married way before he wore his wedding suit and you your wedding dress.

Doflamingo climbed up the stairs towards the bedrooms. He needed to know what sort of clothes you liked to wear.

The master bedroom was large, walls painted sky blue, with a large three meter long bed in the middle, and a large white wardrobe.

Doflamingo scoffed, unimpressed. What a dump of a master bedroom. Is this where the magic was supposed to happen? It wasn’t very magical to Doflamingo. It looked like any plain bedroom in the taverns he stayed in.

Doflamingo walked to the closet, and opened it. There was no walk-in closet here. What a disgrace. This isn't how their mother raised them to treat their spouses.

The clothes in your wardrobe were so ordinary... so plain...

Well, it didn’t matter. Doflamingo was going to buy proper clothes for a beautiful woman like you.

Curiousity got the better of him, and he opened his brother’s wardrobe.

Ten pristinely white marine coats hung from the clothing rack, paired with blue dress shirts.

That was a lot of coats.

Doflamingo let out a snort, shaking his head at his brother’s affliction to set his clothes on fire. Some things never change. Whoever thought giving his little brother a lighter was a good idea must have been a madman.

Donquixote Rosinante, commander of the most deadly assassination and spy unit of the marines, the Crow Corps. Doflamingo had heard about them, but never knew their identities - they were thought not to exist, really. For all his years in the underworld, Doflamingo never encountered them — or maybe he had, and was not aware of it.

The Crow Corps were a myth, a story to scare the sailors with, a marine legend pirates talked about when something went incredibly amiss in intelligence gathering and the underworld.

“Must’ve been the Crow Corps.”

“Beware the Crow Corps, they’re the marines’ eyes and ears; they can hear you through the thickest walls and see you in the darkest shadow.”

Doflamingo would have felt proud of his brother’s achievements if he didn’t see how dim-witted his baby brother really was, throwing all of his hard work away to save Law.

After checking your shirt, dress, skirts, pants and shoe sizes, he also pulled out a few bras to get an insight on your bra size — he needed to know it be able to buy you proper, nice undergarments, not this cotton, wire bullshit — he started scouring boxes in Rosinante’s wardrobe. Maybe he’d find some information on the marines there, a blueprint, a floor plan, sailing routes, anything really. Instead, all he found was Rosinante’s official documents, and the copy of the marriage contract. You two had even gotten a house in Marineford free of charge. He was surprised how well the marines took care of their families, but it wasn’t new. Better to encourage families and support them so they give you more little marines to train and send out to get killed in battle.

Doflamingo took your personal documents from your nightstand’s drawer. You’d need those with him. Registrating your identity again would be a risk — he didn’t plan on letting you off the ship the first two weeks, little less to risk taking you to a registration office for you to get your identity card again. Putting them into his pocket, he also folded the only single good file of clothing that fit his standards — a beautiful light blue silk dress — and put that into the pocket of his feather coat, too.

With that done, he left the master bedroom, and headed back downstairs into the open living room and kitchen, and started scouring through the drawers in the living room, too. He paused when he found a video snail, with writing on its shell.

Our Wedding

Footage. Of his little brother’s wedding.

Doflamingo took the snail from the shelf, pulled down the projector screen on the wall opposite of the large white couch, and set up the snail. He sat down on the couch and turned the snail on.

The first thing he saw was the man standing beside his brother as his brother’s best man.

That was the crazy zoan shithead that attacked him ten years ago.

Doflamingo clenched his teeth, his chest inflated as he inhaled in fury. The blood vessels on his forehead exposed themselves, throbbing along with his rage. He wanted to break something.

That one? That half-Lunarian scum was Rosi’s best man instead of Doflamingo?

It seemed Rosinante had abandoned him as a brother way before he tried to destroy his life.

But Doflamingo had never abandoned Rosinante. He’d trusted him. He’d loved him. Rosinante was his precious, sweet little brother, the one he trusted the most in the entire world, the one person nobody — nobody — was allowed to hurt. And what did Doflamingo get for trusting him, for protecting him, for loving him, because who else if not his brother by blood, who else if not his equal, his fellow god?

All his plans nearly ruined, Law fleeing after eating the Op-Op Fruit, and his little brother pointing a gun at him.

In the end, after all that, after screwing everything up, aware of what he’d done, how he’d betrayed him... Rosinante didn’t even have the guts to do it to the end and pull the fucking trigger.

Doflamingo returned his attention to the projection on the wall.

His brother was dressed in the usual wedding marine outfit; soft light blue suit, light blue waistcoat, white dress shirt and light blue tie with floral prints of small forget-me-not flowers.

However, Doflamingo found his eyes pasted to you, staring at you intensely, taking in your wedding dress. It complimented your figure, hugging your delicate curves, with an open back, off-shoulder, with flower-patterned lace sleeves. The off-shoulder dress revealed your delicate collarbone and shoulders, temptation in white lace.

What a beauty you were.

Doflamingo was impressed. His brother cleaned up well. No wonder you were all over him — his brother finally dressed as was proper for his godly status. If only his brother dressed like that all the time, and not like a clown…

“Kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss!” the cheering of the guests filled the room.

Doflamingo could tell by the way your eyes looked at his brother. You loved his brother deeply.

Rosinante leaned down, and you met him half-way, hugging him around the waist happily — oh yes, you very much loved his brother, thought Doflamingo, amused — and the two of you shared another kiss as newlyweds.

Applause and cheers erupted. More confetti rained down on Corazón and you, a few scraps of it landing on your heads, strewn over his brother’s golden hair.

It didn’t escape Doflamingo’s notice how close Corazón held you to himself, and kissed you again, more passionate and deeper this time, making the crowd cheer and whistle.

Doflamingo chuckled. Who knew his quiet, sweet little brother was so passionate and possessive with his wife… he sure liked playing the good marine boy, but he was certainly a greedy, selfish man.

Just like Doflamingo.

Doflamingo heard a whistle from behind the video snail, “Leave some for the honeymoon, Rosi!”

“Oh, shut up, Wulf. Gimme that!”

His brother’s face entered the frame, his light brown eyes looking at the recorder snail, blinking. Doflamingo blinked back, staring at his brother who was without his make-up and beanie.

Rosi.

“Why’re you taking pictures?”

“It’s a video snail, Rosi.”

“Oh!”

“Hiiii!” said Rosinante, waving at the snail’s eyes, smiling wide and bright like the sun, golden and white, truly like a god. “We just got married!”

Doflamingo stared at the screen, watching his little brother smiling and waving at him.

You laughed, and Doflamingo felt his breath hitch at the sweet, gentle sound, staring at your smile; it was like an angel smiling.

“Well,” murmured Doflamingo, lounging back on the large white couch, staring at you; you looked beautiful in that wedding dress, like an angel. How on earth his brother held himself back from taking you and ripping your dress off your body was anyone’s guess. “You got something right.” The pirate smiled darkly. “What a pretty thing your wife is, fufufufu!”

“What are you doing, recording all the time? Hibou is stealing your ladies, you know.”

“Not that I mind!” came another man’s voice.

“I’m putting my flirty boy hat down for tonight!” announced Wulf determinantly. “I’m your best man, it’s my duty to record everything!”

“Isn’t that the photographer’s job?” asked Rosinante.

“Not when you promise the photographer a piece of this,” said Wulf with a grin, touching his body clad in the sky blue suit from the waist up to his white slicked-back hair, giving the snail a flirtatious wink, “in exchange for him giving you the video snail.”

“Wulf…”

“What? You two aren’t the only ones fucking at the end of the night!”

Rosinante’s face turned a deep pink, while you chuckled.

Doflamingo skipped forward, past the procession and the feast, and over the speeches. He stopped to watch the couple’s first dance.

Rosinante took you by the hand and led you onto the podium of leaves. The band started playing a slow, romantic song mainly focused on piano and violin. Rosinante pulled you close (with surprising elegance Doflamingo never thought him capable of, clumsy as his brother was) and pulled you into a slow waltz. For long minutes, you two danced, spinning and swaying, blue and white blending together perfectly, like the sky and the clouds.

The music continued, and Doflamingo watched you rest your head on his brother's shoulder when he bent down, resting his forehead against your temple, kissing your hair. You pulled your head up from his brother's shoulder, and that sweet look would have made Doflamingo bend down and kiss you. Instead of doing that, Rosinante laid his forehead against yours, and as you two swayed together to the slow music, staring into each other's eyes, your lips moved, forming words Doflamingo couldn't hear from the music. Rosinante smiled gently at you, his lips moving, making the same shape of words as yours did.

The music muted it, but Doflamingo could tell. He knew the shape Rosi’s lips formed, what words they whispered to you, pressed together with you as his brother was, the two of you like swans entangled in each other’s wings.

“I love you.”

Getting hungry — and wanting snacks to watch the show — Doflamingo headed to the kitchen to get some beer and chips.

Doflamingo paused in the dining room, his eyes catching onto the plate on the dinner table. It was a plate with a tower of pancakes, covered in chocolate syrup. Were you expecting someone? A marine guard to take you away from the island and to Marineford for the funeral?

Well…

Doflamingo grinned.

Finders keepers.

He snatched one and devoured it in one bite.

The chocolate syrup and chocolate filling inside created a wonderful flavour in his mouth.

Delicious.

Doflamingo grabbed the next pancake, feeling absolutely no shame in eating the pancakes you made for someone else.

As Doflamingo eats the full plate of pancakes, he walks around, surveying the pictures of you and his brother atop the fireplace. There is a large, binded book, and after cleaning his gloves from chocolate and sugar with a napkin, Doflamingo picks it up.

It’s a photo album. He grins. Bingo.

Doflamingo gets himself comfortable on the white couch, puts the flowers and the plate of pancakes on each thigh, opens up the photo album, grabs another pancake from the plate and looks through the pictures of you and his brother as he waits for you to come home.

***

Whenever you had nightmares, Rosinante used to say, “As long as I’m here, no one can hurt you.”

Those words feel empty and meaningless now. Rosi is gone. He can’t protect you anymore, no matter how much you wish he would.

You open the doors of the house, enter, and close them behind you, locking them from the inside.

It takes you a moment, but you notice it.

There is something in the darkness.

A tall, shadowy figure of a man, hunched over, long spine bent, his long, lanky legs crossed over each other, and…

The darkness outlined the silhouette of dark feathers of a massive coat upon his broad shoulders, covering his back.

Hope blooms within you.

“Rosi?”

A sinister, deep, wicked laugh resounded in the darkness, breaking through the silence. The malice within it sunk your gut, shivering your bones with fear; you felt like you were going to be sick. It sounded like evil incarnate.

That isn’t Rosi’s voice. That isn’t Rosi’s laugh. Rosi never laughed like that – ever.

You didn’t know how you managed to flick the light switch on to see which madman it was, but you did.

The first thing you saw when light illuminated the living room was…

Red — merlot red.

For a moment, the colour blinds you. Your focus returns, and you make out what the merlot red is. It’s a tailored, merlot double-breasted suit jacket with golden buttons with a black dress shirt tucked underneath it, a crimson tie tucked neatly in the collar, all of it paired with merlot suit pants.

A man was here. It wasn’t Rosinante.

Golden rings dangled from his tanned earlobes, their shiny reflection lost in the dark shadows of your home, their glitter extinguished. He had a long neck, similar to a flamingo’s, thick and muscular. White-framed sunglasses obscured his eyes. Their tinted, reflective lenses coloured like a bloody sunset stared right back at you, coated crimson in the darkness.

A wide, crescent-shaped, demonic smile bloomed on his face, stretching ear-to-ear, baring all of his white teeth.

That smile froze the blood in your veins.

Your husband’s older brother, Donquixote Doflamingo lounged on the white couch, legs spread wide on each side, grinning at you.

****

Let's say Doflamingo fixed the doors he kicked down, bcs... He wanted that element of surprise. This fic (this chapter particularly) has been in the works for a long time, I just wanted to share it already. If there are any missing scenes connecting between paragraphs - no there aren't. Actually, I appreciate if you guys say to me if there are. There are so many times I can proof read 11.7k words before my brain explodes. Some notes for the chapter and references.

Reader howling to the sky in mourning after finding out about Rosinante's death - for imagination purposes, it's literally Luffy screaming after Ace dies. It was a direct reference to it, and that's how I imagined Reader looking - same expression as Luffy.

The "Rosinante is dead." Doflamingo delivered the news the same way Luffy said "Ace is dead." to Tama in Wano.

Taglist: @fanaticsnail @moonbaby26 @daydreamer-in-training @queenmimi2817 @dummyduck44 @pinejayy @tellynojelly @capycapy-bara @dilf-destroyer-04 @yataidiot @orioncipher @isebauwolf @r-amenegg @skullfacedlady

[maxinehufflepuffprincess]

Delivery

Yeon Si-eun x Reader x Ahn Su-ho

(This is my first Weak Hero fic, and I decided to make it the first chapter of the Collection I'm making for Si-eun x reader x Su-ho. Go big or go home, right? I hope this is good. I'm sorry if it's not.)

Masterlist. Progress Update. Love at First Fight Collections.

Summary: You're helping Su-ho at work and end up delivering to the wrong apartment.

You didn’t always help Su-ho with his delivery job. You had one day a week where you helped him. Now, if it were up to you, you’d probably always help him with his deliveries. But Su-ho was adamant that he didn’t want you working all the time like he does. He worked all the time. So he could help his Grandmother out. He also had money put aside for the life the two of you wanted to build. 

You liked helping him out at the restaurant, too. Turns out you were a pretty good waitress. You always got paid for helping out, even if you insisted that you just wanted to help. But it felt nice. It meant you were contributing to your future you wanted with the love of your life.

Of course, Su-ho wanted you to mostly focus on your studies. That way, you could get into a good college and get a good job. So just as much as you helped him with work, he helped you with your studies. He had made flash cards for you and always helped you to relax when you were overworking your brain. The two of you were good together. You worked together for the same goals. You could tease each other and mess around. There was always a sense of safety and happiness in your relationship. Sure, you argued, but not often. The two of you had good communication skills with each other.

—----

Su-ho's bike came to a stop outside some apartments. The two of you looked around. You got off the bike and took out Su-ho’s phone from your pocket. You had the role of telling him the address. You watched him take out the order from the delivery box. 

Su-ho walked towards the building, and you walked beside him. You frowned. “I don’t think this is the right set of apartments. I think it’s the next one over, honey.” You told him softly as you walked. 

Su-ho shook his head at your words. “It’s this one, baby girl. I know it.” He told you with a grin on his face. He lifted the visor of his red and black helmet. He turned and lifted the visor of your helmet. It was like Su-ho’s in style. The difference being yours was light purple and black, as well as smaller. Su-ho had bought it for you after you had complained about not wanting to go on his bike. 

‘I’m just worried, is all. I know you drive safely and you’ve never been in an accident. And I know you want me to be safe, so you always give me your helmet. But if something does happen, you could get hurt, love. I don’t want anything bad to happen to you.”

That’s what you had told him. Your words had stuck with Su-ho. The next day, he arrived at school with the most adorable purple and black helmet for you. On the side was a cute sticker of a chicken, Bbokari. It was the animal representation of one of the members of a band you were obsessed with. Stray Kids. You had returned the favour by putting a sticker of Jiniret on his helmet, in the exact same spot as yours.

—----

The two of you arrived at the apartment and Su-ho rang the doorbell. You both waited, hand in hand. 

“Who’s there?” A voice came from the other side.

“Delivery!” Su-ho called back. 

“I didn’t order anything.” That made you frown. Maybe you really had gone to the wrong place.

“What? No, I got the right place.” Su-ho was as persistent as ever. 

There was a beat of silence before the door opened, and there he was. Si-eun. He looked adorable.

“Woah, it’s the nerd. What are you doing here?” You gently slapped your boyfriend’s arm, causing him to gasp and look at you. “What was that for?”

“He has a name, use it.” 

Si-eun looked between the two of you and then at the bag in Su-ho’s hand. He looked at Su-ho. “I didn’t order that.”

“Huh? Dongbaek Apartment, block 102, unit 902?”

“It’s 101.”

Su-ho lifted the bag so he could re-read the address. “It says 102.” He let out a sigh. “Dang it. Guess you’re right.” He let out a small cough. “Hey, bro. Cup of water?”

“Why should I?” Si-eun looked like he just wanted the two of you to leave. Which you understood. You had disturbed his night.

“We’re in the same class. We’re friends. You’re being kind of rude.” You watched as your boyfriend barged his way into Si-eun’s home. 

“Hey–”

You let out a sigh as you stayed outside the apartment. “Su-ho, Darling. You can’t just walk into other people’s homes.” You spoke softly. You and Si-eun locked eyes for a moment. He gave a small, subtle nod, allowing you into his home. You gave him a soft smile before stepping inside. You gently took off your helmet. 

“Don’t be so cheap. I’m just asking for water, right? Ugh.” Su-ho sat down to take off his helmet. “If I get dehydrated and faint, you wanna be responsible for that? Don’t be so mean. I just asked for water. But you’re just standing there. I guess I’m gonna faint and die now. I’m even losing my voice. Baby, convince him.”

“You’re so dramatic. You should try acting, babe.” You told him with a giggle. 

Su-ho grinned up at you. “Na, I save all my dramatics for you, baby.” He reached up and took your hand in his. His thumb gently ran over your knuckles. “Who needs Kdramas when they can just watch us.”

Si-eun looked so incredibly done with Su-ho. However, he walked passed you both and into the kitchen. He opened the fridge and grabbed a bottle of water. It was about a quarter full. He then grabbed a cup and made his way back to you and Su-ho. Si-eun undid the cap and was about to pour the water into the cup when Su-ho snatched the bottle and began to drink it. 

“Aah.” Su-ho let out a groan after he finished most of the drink. He laid his head on the wall. 

“Who’s the one being rude?” Si-eun asked as monotone as ever. Though much to his surprise, you let out the most angelic giggle he had ever heard in his life. It made Si-eun’s chest go tight for a moment. 

Su-ho dismissed his words with a hand wave. “Baby, do you want some?” He asked you. You shook your head gently. “No, lovely. My water bottle is in my bag. I’ll have it when we get to the bike.”  

Su-ho shook his head at your words. “Sweetheart, just finish the water, yeah? Gotta keep my girl hydrated.” He held out the bottle to you. You took the bottle and finished the water.

Su-ho finally stood up. “Thanks, man. I’ll buy you three waters tomorrow. Keep studying hard, hmm? See you later. And listen to your mom.” He began trying to open the door. “Am I doing this right?” He stepped out of the home and waved at Si-eun. 

“Baby, are you coming?” He asked you, confused as to why you hadn’t moved yet. 

You looked at Si-eun. “I’m sorry about him. Su-ho forgets his manners sometimes. We shouldn’t have barged into your home like that. Thank you for the water, and congratulations on that Maths prize you won. Have a nice night, Si-eun.” You made your way to the open door and stepped outside with your boyfriend. The two of you waved to Si-eun before leaving. 

—----

The door closed behind you as you and Su-ho walked away towards the stairs, ready to go to the next building. You watched as Su-ho put on his helmet. You held yours in your right hand. You couldn’t help but smile as you looked up at your boyfriend.

“I told you it was the wrong building.” You giggled before jogging off ahead of your boyfriend.

“Yah! You menace. Get back here!” He chased after you. He wrapped his right arm around you, lifting you, causing you to let out a squeal of happiness. He spun the two of you for a moment before setting you down. He took your hand in his, and the two of you walked. 

“Si-eun is pretty cute.” You said softly. 

Su-ho grinned down at you. “Yeah. He is cute. You’re right.”

—----

Love at First Fight Collection Taglist: Thank you for supporting me. Let me know if you wanna be added to or taken off of this Taglist.

@thecheshireprincess @potato-vagina @spanish-delulu-23 @deliciousmagazinequeen @mizxuqii @psychobitchsthings @hikaerys @pookynknowntranger @eijizwrld

[simplygojo]

Friend-Of-A-Friend ⸺ Chapter Two

author's note ⸺ Hello all! Tysm on all the love and support you've given me on just the teaser!! I have begun the series taglist as well (at end of fic) and if you'd like to be added, please comment so I can add you :) pairing ⸺ Suguru Geto x Reader content ⸺ platonic-bestie!gojo, corporate-worker!reader, slight tension, studying mentioned, modern au, reader uses female pronouns, this is an 18+ series - mdni divider credit: @/toastray ୨୧ art credit: @/juziluohai

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Morning meetings were always the worst.

Your eyes flicked between the PowerPoint presentation on your laptop and the clock in the bottom corner of the screen. 10:17 AM. Barely past mid-morning, and already your inbox was overflowing, a steady stream of tasks waiting to be tackled. 

Your manager was droning on about Q2 projections, but you weren’t really listening—your mind was elsewhere.

More specifically, back to Geto’s message.

You had responded, the plans had been loosely set in motion, but ever since then… nothing. 

No follow-up text. No details. No confirmation. It wasn’t like you were expecting Geto to flood your notifications—he didn’t seem like the type—but still, there was an odd weight to the silence. Like something unsaid was hanging in the air, waiting.

Your phone, face down on your desk, was an itch you couldn’t scratch. Every so often, between emails and reports, you found yourself flipping it over, just to check. 

No new messages. No notifications. Just the same boring reality of your corporate grind.

You sighed, refocusing on your laptop screen. 

Work first, overanalyzing later.

୨୧ ୨୧ ୨୧

By the time the workday finally dragged itself to a close, you were exhausted.

The kind of exhaustion that settled behind your eyes, heavy and dull. 

You trudged back to your apartment, shedding your coat as soon as you stepped through the door, kicking off your shoes like they were the final obstacle standing between you and sweet relief.

Your phone buzzed as you collapsed onto the couch. For a fleeting second, your stomach twisted in anticipation—only for it to immediately unravel when you saw the name on the screen.

Gojo.

You exhaled through your nose, a half-smile tugging at your lips as you answered.

“What, do y’have a sixth sense for when I get home?”

“Obviously,” Gojo said, his voice light with amusement. “I told you, I’m always watching.”

“Gross.”

“You’re gross.”

This was routine by now—Gojo calling you at random times throughout the week, sometimes to tell you about his day, sometimes just to be annoying. You never really minded.

“So,” he drawled, “how’s the thrilling life of a corporate drone? Please, tell me in excruciating detail about your latest battle with Excel.”

“Oh, you know, just living the dream,” you said, stretching your legs out. “Emails. Meetings. Staring at spreadsheets until my vision blurs.”

“Riveting.”

“You know it.”

He chuckled. “Well, you got a busy week ahead, or what?”

The question was casual, barely even a thought, but before you could think better of it, you answered honestly.

“Not really. Just work. Oh, uh—actually, I’m meeting up with Geto sometime this week.”

Silence.

“…Gojo?”

A sharp inhale on the other end. Then, suddenly—

“This guy’s working in the shadows.”

You blinked. “Huh?”

“Oh my god.” His tone was deadly serious, but you could practically hear the grin behind it. “I had no idea…He’s been playing the long game. Years of silence, and now—bam. He’s got you exactly where he wants you.”

“Oh, shut up.”

“I knew it. I knew he was too smooth, too strategic—”

“Gojo, stop.”

“—waiting, biding his time, and then when I least expect it, he makes his move.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “This is why I don’t tell you things. There are no moves being made.”

Gojo laughed, full and delighted, like this was the funniest thing to happen all week. You could imagine him now—probably stretched out on his couch—taking up too much space, grinning like an idiot.

“In all seriousness, though,” he said, still sounding far too amused, “what’s up with that? Since when do you and Geto make plans?”

You hesitated, your fingers tightening around your phone. “I don’t know. He just texted me out of nowhere. Said he was 'working in my area now' and wanted to catch up.”

A pause. Barely a second, but you caught it.

Then—Gojo sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth. “Oof. Wow.”

You frowned. “What?”

“Nah, nothing. It’s just—you ever watch a nature documentary?”

You blinked. “Huh?”

“You know, like, those ones where the predator stalks its prey for ages before it finally pounces?”

“…Gojo.”

He let out a long, dramatic sigh. “It’s just crazy. I always thought Geto was a patient guy, but this? This is another level. He’s been lurking in the tall grass for years, and now that the timing is right? Bam. He strikes.”

You groaned. “Oh my god.”

“No, no, I respect it,” he continued, completely ignoring you. “It’s a slow-burn strategy. Like, why rush when you can let the tension marinate, y’know?”

“There’s no tension. Or—ew—marinating. Why are you like this? ”

“Mm.” He made a noncommittal noise. “You sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

“Because I dunno,” he mused, “feels like a little tension. Maybe a tiny bit. A smidge. A sprinkle.”

“Gojo.”

“There was definitely a little spark back in university,” he said, far too casually.

You scoffed. “Huh? No, there wasn’t. We barely even spoke.”

Gojo let out an incredulous laugh. “Were we even in the same room? You two had vibes.”

“You’re such a liar.”

“I’m an eyewitness, actually,” he corrected, as if that made it any better. “And what I ‘eye-witnessed’ was undeniable tension.”

“You 'eye-witnessed' nothing.” You pinched the bridge of your nose. “This is why I don’t tell you things.”

“I think it’s great, honestly,” he continued, undeterred. 

“You guys should totally bond. Maybe do one of those, I dunno, deep and meaningful heart-to-hearts. Oh! Maybe a romantic little dinner. Candlelight. Soft music. He reaches across the table to hold your hand—”

“I’m hanging up now.”

“No, wait! Wait, what are you wearing?”

You froze. “What the fuck?”

“For the meetup, duh.” He sounded way too amused. “Gotta dress for the occasion.”

You groaned so loudly it was nearly a scream, and Gojo lost it, laughing so hard you heard something clatter in the background.

“God, you make this too easy,” he wheezed.

“You’re the worst.”

You were going to regret telling him about this forever.

Before you could dwell on it too much, Gojo spoke again. “Well, I, for one, fully support this development. As long as you keep me updated.”

You snorted. “Yeah, because that’ll happen.”

“Hey! I have a right to know if my best friend is being seduced by my other best friend.”

“No one is being seduced—god are you even capable of shutting your mouth?”

“Just saying,” he said lightly, and you could practically hear the smirk in his voice. “If you show up to our next reunion looking all starry-eyed, I’ll know exactly who to blame.”

You scoffed. “And if I don’t?”

“Then I’ll know Suguru’s lost his touch.”

You groaned, pushing your face into a pillow as Gojo laughed through the speaker. He was ridiculous. 

You ended the call with an exasperated sigh, tossing your phone onto the other side of the couch like it had personally wronged you.

Silence settled over your apartment, but your mind was anything but quiet.

Gojo was just messing with you—he always did. But still, his words lingered, replaying in your head like a song you couldn’t shake.

“Feels like a little tension”—“There was definitely a little spark back in university”

Ridiculous.

There was no tension. Not back then. Not now.

…Right?

You scoffed aloud, as if that would somehow erase the warmth you felt spread across your cheeks.

Good thing Gojo hadn’t FaceTimed you—he’d never let you live it down.

The man had a sixth sense for embarrassment, and your flushed face would’ve been prime ammunition.

୨୧ ୨୧ ୨୧

*2 Years Prior: Campus Library — 11:46pm*

The study room was too small for the three of you—Gojo made sure of that. He sprawled in his chair, long limbs kicked out beneath the table, tapping a pencil against his textbook like he was drumming a countdown to his own inevitable failure. 

The midterm was tomorrow, and judging by his groaning, he had barely started reviewing.

"I don't get why we even need to know this crap," Gojo whined, head rolling back against the chair. "I could fail this test and still be smarter than half the students here."

Across from him, Geto turned a page in his notebook, pen gliding smoothly over his notes. "Then fail," he murmured, voice steady, unbothered. "See how that works out for you."

Gojo huffed, but Geto wasn’t paying much attention to him anymore.

His gaze had flickered across the table a few times now, to you.

Your elbow rested against the desk, cheek propped in your palm, eyes flicking between your notes and the thick textbook at your side. The tip of your pen hovered between your lips, an unconscious habit that surfaced whenever you were deep in thought. A line appeared between your brows—concentration. Frustration.

Geto let his pen roll between his fingers, movements slow, measured. 

The numbers on your page hadn’t changed in minutes. His eyes traced the faint tap of your index finger repeatedly tapped your cheek, the subtle way your grip on the pen tightened and loosened, like your thoughts were trying to work themselves out through movement.

He tapped his own pen lightly against the table near your textbook, breaking your trance. "You’re stuck on that problem."

Your head lifted, blinking. "Huh?"

The side of his mouth curled, almost imperceptibly. "You’ve been staring at the same equation for five minutes."

A quiet pause. Then you huffed, setting your pen down and leaning back slightly in your chair. "It's impossible. I’ve tried solving it three different ways, and none of them work."

Geto exhaled, shifting his chair closer. The scrape of wood against tile was barely noticeable beneath Gojo's continued dramatics. "Here. Let me see."

His arm brushed against yours—barely, just enough for him to notice the warmth of your skin through your sleeve. You smelled like warm vanilla and old books, a mix of whatever candle you always burned in your dorm and the ever-present scent of study sessions in the library. 

After a moment, your brows lifted, expectant, seemingly waiting for an explanation.

His gaze flickered to your lips, still caught between your teeth, before dropping to the numbers scrawled across the paper. With a smooth movement, he picked up your pen, turning it between his fingers once before tapping against the right equation. 

“Here,” he murmured, the weight of his voice settling between you. “You skipped a step.”

Your breath hitched—so faint he almost missed it. Almost.

He kept his voice level as he pointed to the equation. "Your mistake is here. You're missing a step between these two lines."

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. "Seriously? Ugh, that’s so stupid. I should’ve caught that."

"You're tired." He said it plainly, matter-of-fact. "That’s all."

Another pause. You tilted your head slightly, watching him  –  Like you wanted to say something.

Then Gojo launched a crumpled paper ball at Geto’s head.

"Hey! If you two are done whispering sweet nothings over math problems, can someone help me before I actually fail this test?"

Gojo’s paper ball bounced off Geto’s head and landed on the desk with an unceremonious plop.

Geto barely reacted, only sighing through his nose like he’d already resigned himself to Gojo’s antics long before this moment. He passed you the highlighter you had been reaching for, his fingers grazing yours—just barely, just long enough that it wasn’t entirely accidental.

You hesitated, lips parting slightly, but whatever thought had been forming was cut short when Gojo's loud voice interrupted you.

"*Phew,* Finally! I was starting to think you two were gonna start privatizing your study notes.”

You rolled your eyes, shifting in your seat. “Have you ever made your own notes? Ever? Once?”

Gojo scoffed, leaning back in his chair. “Don’t need to. You are both so lovely I don't need them.”

Shaking your head, you refocused on your notes, tapping your pencil against the paper before absently bringing it between your lips again. It was muscle memory at this point—something you did when you were getting deep in thought, when you were stuck.

Geto noticed immediately.

His gaze flickered down, almost involuntarily, catching on the slight indentation the pencil made against your lower lip. 

For just a second, his fingers stilled where they had been idly rolling his pen, the movement betraying the momentary shift in his focus.

He looked away, back at his own notes—but too late. You had caught the lapse, the flicker of hesitation, and the way his fingers flexed slightly against the spiral binding of his notebook before resuming their casual twirl.

But it appeared as if you hadn’t realized the reason behind his hesitation.

Geto cleared his throat, voice still effortlessly smooth but quieter now. “Fine. Let’s make sure you don’t completely bomb this.”

Gojo immediately perked up. “Thank god. I was losing hope, honestly.”

Neither of you responded.

Geto twirled his pen between his fingers again—slow, thoughtful. His eyes drifted back to you, studying, considering. Then—his voice, quiet yet deliberate—

“You do that a lot y'know”

Your brows knitted slightly. “Do what?”

“The pencil,” he said, tilting his chin toward you. “You chew on it when you’re focused.”

You blinked, seeming caught off guard. 

Gojo snorted. “Wow, Suguru. Riveting observation.”

But Geto wasn’t paying attention to him. His eyes didn’t even flinch—He was still watching you, something unreadable flickering behind his dark eyes, like he was committing the detail to memory.

“Didn’t realize you paid that much attention,” you muttered, sounding unaffected by his gaze.

“Yeah?” His lips curved, the ghost of a smirk. “Guess I just notice things.”

୨୧ ୨୧ ୨୧

Back in the present, you exhaled sharply, shaking off Gojo’s previous teasing as you always did after your phone calls.

Your phone sat beside you, its dark screen reflecting your face—lips pressed together, brows drawn, eyes still distant, lingering somewhere between then and now.

You scoffed under your breath. A little spark? Yeah, okay.

If Gojo had been trying to get under your skin, he’d succeeded. But not in the way he probably thought.

You thought about it some more—what he had said on the phone—there had been no spark—not the way he meant, anyway. 

It was just... familiarity. That quiet, unspoken understanding that came with years of late-night study sessions, shared snacks from vending machines, and the kind of silence that never felt uncomfortable. Geto’s attentiveness and willingness to help was just who he is, it did not mean anything more than that.

If there had ever been anything more, wouldn’t you have noticed?

Your gaze dropped to the phone resting in your lap, thumb grazing the edge of the screen before you realized you had already picked it up. With a quiet sigh, you leaned back against the couch, unlocking it without a second thought.

The message thread with Geto blinked up at you.

His last message was still there. Still waiting. Still unanswered.

"Geto: I know a place. I’ll send you the details later this week."

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard, hesitating for only a second.

Then, finally—

You: So, when’s this catch-up happening?

The message sent before you could overthink it.

With a yawn, you pushed yourself off the couch, stretching your arms overhead before trudging toward your bedroom. The day had been long, and the weight of it was finally settling over you, making your limbs heavy.

Flicking off the light, you slid under the covers, the warmth of your blankets pulling you in almost instantly. You sank into the mattress, letting out a slow breath as your eyes fluttered shut.

Sleep came quickly, tugging at the edges of your consciousness.

Then—just as you were about to slip under completely…

Your phone buzzed against the nightstand.

Your eyes cracked open, pulse skipping despite yourself.

For a moment, you didn’t move. Didn’t reach for it.

But eventually, you did.

a/n — I hope you guys like this. as always lmk your thoughts <3 taglist ⸺ @killak9mi; @nikilig; @pinkhoneydrop; @armfloaties; @sat-hoe-ru; @you-transfix-me; @kaqua; @rriwyu; @erenspersonalwh0re; @dishs0pe **please note: if your name is striked out, that means I was unable to tag you, please check your settings if you'd like to be tagged**

[moonlight-prose]

SIN TI

a/n: years ago when the falcon and the winter soldier came out, i wrote a one shot that has solidified itself as one of my favorite fic i've written. it's a friends to lovers arc and while i wanted to end it there. i couldn't stop myself from giving them another chapter to their love story. so i hope y'all enjoy. there's plenty more torres fics to come. also a massive thank you to my favorite person @soulores who bounced ideas off me and helped me with some of the spanish (i'm learning to fix up my fluency i promise).

note: this fic in my head is a latine reader, but there's no specifications/descriptions so imagine who you wish!

summary: five years have passed. five years since he boarded a plane and left you behind to wait diligently for the man who would never return. when letters and patchy phone calls failed to keep the spark of your relationship alive, you find each other again. only this time as two entirely different people.

word count: 11.2k+

pairing: joaquín torres x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY!!, epistolary beginning, angst, broken hearts, long distance relationships, epistolary style at first, romance, friends to lovers, arguments, passionate declarations of love, fingering, p in v sex, alcohol consumption, biting, cumplay, rough sex, desperation, yearning + pining, he's got a filthy fucking mouth, more angst, the grief of failed love, second chance romance, forever.

SIEMPRE

December 5, 2023

Mi amor,

It’s hard to believe you left only a few weeks ago and somehow I miss you more than I could say in words. If it were possible I’d have sent a longer letter than this. I’d tell you how I miss our mornings spent hunting for coffee, our nights wandering the streets. I’d tell you I miss your lips. But that seems cliché given the circumstances.

I wanted you to stay. And yet…I know how important it was that you go. You need this. You need to figure out where you exist in this world after living in it alone for five years. So I hope you discover what’s always been meant to find you. And when you do, please know that I’ll be here waiting for you.

Back where it all began.

Siempre te amaré.

-Tu corazón

January 8, 2024

Mi corazón,

God I miss your voice, your handwriting, your fucking smile. I miss every part of you. If I told you what I’ve actually been thinking of you’d probably never forgive me for putting it down somewhere in permanent ink. No te culpo. I wish I had better news, or at least some stories to give you, but they’re kicking my ass even before my eyes open. Bright and early at dawn until my whole body is screaming.

I don’t want you to worry mi vida. Please don’t worry. I’m doing okay. I’m alive at least. Gracias a dios. Well I wouldn’t exactly say no to a candle being lit in my name (maybe to help with the constant wake up calls of how you felt that night). Tell Clara and Michael I miss them. Give mi mamá a kiss and drop some flowers off for pops. But most importantly do me a favor.

Wear them for me yeah corazón? They’re my “lost” pair (got reamed out for “losing” my first fucking pair of dog tags but it was worth it to give you a piece of me.) Keep ‘em on. And know that I’ll be fighting like hell to get my way back to you. Back to our spot, back to morning coffee runs and night walks in the city.

They’re yours. Just like I am.

Siempre te amaré.

-Yours forever Joaquín

January 16, 2024

Mi amor,

Thank you baby for the tags. I cried when I felt your name engraved in the metal. Just the feel of the letters reminded me of the way you’d draw on my papers in high school. They were so bad, but I think I still have a few of them in the back of my closet. Somehow that feels like a lifetime ago. I can tell you that I miss you—that’s true—but it’s not entirely the full truth. I never got a first date, rarely got a chance to see your eyes open when we woke up together, or drink shitty beer on the roof of my apartment.

I wish I could say that it doesn’t hurt to wait for you, but that would be a lie. And I can hear you in the back of my head saying: eres mentirosa bebita. And it makes me laugh.

This letter will probably find its way to you near Valentine’s Day. And I can’t have my brave pilot missing the fun. Don’t show anyone. Keep it in your wallet, and enjoy the late nights mi vida (pretend I’m there with my mouth to keep you company, or my hands, or my pussy).

We’ll find ourselves back in that queen sized bed soon enough—that I’m sure of. I will have to take a week off work just to get my fill of you; although even I have to admit that’ll take a long fucking time.

You and I both know I’ll never have enough.

I’ll be thinking of you, as I always do. Especially in our bed. Come home soon mi amor and I’ll be here when you finally do.

Siempre te amaré.

-Tu corazón

February 16, 2024

Happy Valentine’s Day mi corazón.

You’ve got no idea what those Polaroids did to me. I think I touched myself fucking raw (or at least that’s what it feels like). I’ve got half a mind to frame them, proudly display my girl. But I know you might actually murder me, so I’ve got them where you asked—safe in my wallet. I’ve been thinking about you. Okay let me be honest. I always think about you. Seriously you fucked up my brain bebita before I left. Had me wrapped around your finger long before that night, but after…I’m going crazy without you.

Dios mío, yo también te extraño (probably more given how winded I get just thinking about you). And I wish I could say that I’ll be home eventually, but I don’t know. I wish I did. You’ve got no idea how much I wish I could find my way back to you. The air force is…it’s harder than I thought. Nothing I can’t handle.

Until then imagine me finally taking you out on that date. In fact plan it. Figure out where you wanna go, pick out an outfit that’ll drive me batshit, and I’ll be there. On that dance floor to finally finish what we started. Te amo mi corazón. More than you know.

Siempre te amaré.

-Yours forever Joaquín

February 20, 2024

Mi amor,

The thought of you has driven me insane. I actually sprayed your cologne on the pillow you slept on the last few days we were together, just to remind myself of what you smelled like. I also may have rode it. But that didn’t matter. It did nothing but make me ache. Te extraño mucho Joaquin.

I don’t know what to do with myself but go to work and wait for you to come home. But I’ve done what you said—I planned our date. Dinner at our favorite place, a night of drinks at Siempre, and dessert at the small ice cream parlor on the corner.

I want to believe you when you said you could handle the airforce, and I do, but something isn’t right. Por qué mientes mi amor? You forget, I know every piece of you. I know when you’re upset. I know when you are struggling and don’t want to say it, because you think you can bear the heaviness of the world. Even when you were younger you thought you could carry the weight of everyone’s troubles on your shoulders, but you don’t have to. I’m here. I’ll carry it with you.

You can tell me what’s wrong and I’ll promise to listen, to make it better however I can. What’s our love meant to be if not carrying one another through the harsh times of life?

Tell me everything amor. I’ll listen. I’ll save you this time around.

Have they told you when you’ll be able to visit? I know it’s only been a few months, but I just always wonder. If they haven’t I understand—I just miss you. But you know this. I won’t fill up this letter with misery, because you deserve more than that. Your mamá and I have dinner on Sunday’s now (she’s teaching me how to cook so I’ll promise to make a good meal for you).

Clara and Michael are together at last! And they’re worse than us in terms of PDA. I seriously wish you were here just to help me one up them. Give them a show. But that can wait. All of it can wait. As long as I know you’re coming home to me.

Please take care of yourself mi amor. Stay safe and I’ll be here making my apartment a home for the both of us.

Siempre te amaré.

-Tu corazón

March 30, 2024

Mi amor,

I hope my last letter didn’t get lost on the way to you. I’ve heard it could happen. But I’m getting worried with this constant silence. Estas bien? Are they treating you okay? Is the base nice? I just need something to know you’re okay baby. Send a letter, find a way to call me, but don’t leave me with nothing.

I’m not the only one worried and you know it.

I hope you’re safe.

Siempre te amaré.

-Tu corazón

May 18, 2024

Mi corazón,

I don’t know how to start this. I should have answered you earlier. Or sent something in return to your Valentine’s gift. Or shit I should have at least fought tooth and nail for a visitation day to come see you, but that’s no longer possible mi corazón. I’m being transferred to a base further away and I’m not sure when I’ll make it back. I don’t even know if they plan on giving me an idea on what’s going to happen with me, but that’s why I had to tell you.

Lo siento bebita. I’m…I’m just sorry. I love you, I always have and always will. But I can’t force you to wait for me forever. That’s not fair to you. And you deserve better than a man who could never gather the fucking nerve to tell you the truth. Waiting on a soldier like me shouldn’t be your future. So I’m doing what’s necessary.

I’m sorry.

I will always love you.

Forever.

- Joaquín

June 1, 2024

Fuck you Joaquín Torres. You don’t get to rip my heart out that way. You don’t get to end this without looking me in the eyes. Why? Why would you make me fall in love with you if you knew this would end? Why would you promise me forever when you never meant it to begin with? Tell me. Write a fucking letter and answer me!

I deserve the truth. All of it.

I know you are struggling and won’t tell me. I know you’re fighting for your life to keep up with the demands of the airforce and like to pretend you’re fine. But you’re not fine baby. You can’t lie to me and pretend nothing’s wrong. You just…you can’t do that to me. Please. Let me in amor, let me help.

I love you Joaquín.

I need you.

-Tu corazón

FIVE YEARS LATER

The coffee tasted much more bitter than what you remembered. A biting darkness that burned the back of your throat as you gulped down what you could in the fifteen minutes you had for lunch. Whatever food you packed sat forgotten about in your fridge. Another day rushing to the office, another day wandering the streets of a city you could paint with your eyes closed.

A piece of you echoed with the voices of all who came before you. Friends you made, found family that adopted you as their own. Streets overflowing with scents of arroz con pollo and Jamaica flowers boiling away in kitchens—open windows begging for some fresh air.

July scorched the streets with heat you learned to endure. Yet this year felt worse. A curse bestowed upon the people of New York without rhyme or reason.

You pressed a piece of ice to your neck, dabbing at the sweat sliding down your chest. In the hopes you might find some relief from this torture you were forced to endure. Working in an office that barely payed you enough for the rent of your apartment and was far too cheap to put money towards a working air conditioner. You calculated the numbers for them. They could afford it.

“Fuck the heat,” you moaned, wincing with the heat of your coffee.

“That skirt’s sexy mami.”

The sound of her voice was unmistakable. A soft drawled accent of someone who spent her days speaking Spanish more than she did English. You rolled your eyes, digging out another ice cube from what remained in your plastic cup—dropping it in between your breasts with a hiss.

“Tell me why we’re out here?” you asked, shifting as the ice slid lower, finding a spot beneath your breast.

She dropped onto the bench, yanking off a black blazer that looked like hell to be wearing. “Because if I have to spend another day in a court house I’m going to blow my brains out.”

“You work in a court house Clara.”

“Callate. Don’t fucking remind me.”

Her ebony curls were gathered at the top of her head, pinned in place with a familiar teal butterfly clip you lent her a year prior. At this point asking for it back felt irrelevant. She looked better with it than you ever did—never quite learning how to pin it effortlessly like her.

“We’re going out tonight,” she announced between swipes of lipstick, fixing makeup that was primed to perfection.

With a sigh you dug for another ice cube. “Do I have to?”

“Yes.” Her compact clicked shut. “I rarely see you anymore. Plus Michael got the night off so he’s joining us.”

“And where exactly are you dragging me?”

“Dancing.”

You groaned, sinking into the bench far enough to be drowned by the floor. Swallowed whole into the center of Earth—an escape from being whatever you forced yourself to pretend. An adult with a clear path, someone moved on from a heartbreak that ripped you to pieces, someone whole. Yet asking for that felt as if you were signing a life altering contract with gods who weren’t listening to your cries of anguish.

Clara knew you were suffering—she could see the exhaustion on your face—but her specialty was never empathetic talks. She spoke with actions. Loud, boisterous, displays of affection. Like dragging you around town when all you were concerned about was getting home to feed your cat.

“I don’t-”

“Think so,” she mimicked, clicking her tongue. “Ay Dios how many times are you gonna use that fucking excuse?”

“What excuse?” you exclaimed, fixing her with a glare she brushed off with a sigh.

“You need to resurrect yourself. I know you don’t want to talk about him—and I won’t—but you deserve to move on. He became a superhero-”

“Don’t even get me started.”

“Then why aren’t you letting yourself finally meet a future where you get to thrive?”

She was right. You knew every word out of her mouth echoed with enough truth to stab you in the chest. Five years passed before your very eyes and you barely gave yourself a chance to breathe. He’d been your best friend, your partner in crime all these years, and to live a life without him in it felt like a betrayal. Only you weren’t the one to issue the blade, you weren’t the one to open a wound so large it took everything in you not to bleed before her now.

The trail of red followed you on the bleak path ahead. A future without love, a life half lived.

He existed in the world as a hero—a monolithic piece of history the world clamored for. You were merely a mark on a past he might never mention, a brief lapse of youthful hope diminished by powers you held no control over.

What good was it to forget yourself? He certainly didn’t miss you; he barely even thought of you. Yet somewhere along the way you gave him every ounce of strength you should have reserved for yourself.

With a sigh you tossed the empty cup into the trash beside you. “Fine.”

She laughed with a glee that helped break through your melancholy stupor. “Let’s go mami!”

“Where are we going?” And with one word she sealed your fate.

“Siempre.”

The heels were a bad idea, the short silk mini dress was a bad idea, the whole night reeked with poor decisions you should have caught a mile away. Clara shoved you into a green dress yanked from the back of her closet—a forgotten gift she claimed. Only to leave you alone at the bar, her golden yellow nails burrowed into Michael’s arm to drag him deep into a mass of people you tried to avoid.

Your mezcal was tepid, a rim of lipstick decorating the edge of the glass covered in your fingerprints. The music blared loud enough to leave a high pitched ringing in your left ear—a thumping bass causing the floor to tremble with each new song.

You had half a mind to leave, already a sweaty mess just standing listlessly by the bar in a meager attempt at the fun you once had. The same joy that happened right in this very club. But tonight felt different—an energy you couldn’t name that stuck to your tight chest.

“One more,” you called over the music, tapping your glass with a nail coated in chipped polish.

“I’ll get hers.”

You stiffened, his voice washing over you like a bucket of ice dumped atop your head. For a brief moment you wondered if it finally happened, if you reached the point of hearing him when he was nowhere to be found. A dreadful hope that lingered in your chest—a dream you couldn’t speak aloud for fear of driving yourself mad. Until he filled your peripheral, a familiar leather coat you would recognize a mile away and dark hair now cropped and cut short enough to alarm you.

“Mi corazon,” he murmured, leaning close enough to invade your senses with his cologne.

The bottle he left with you still sat on your dresser. Coated in five years of dust, untouched and frozen in a time you would give anything to go back to. Your teeth clamped onto the inside of your cheek hard enough to spill copper across your tongue—a disgusting mixture with the tequila you downed moments prior.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” you croaked, barely able to look at him.

“I got home last week.”

“Good for you.” The words were biting, harsh enough to make him wince. Satisfaction flooded your veins.

“Clara invited me,” he admitted, stuffing his hands into his pockets—another song blasting off speakers you wished to break. “I thought…she didn’t tell you did she?”

“What do you think?”

He sighed, ducking his head to stare at his warm mezcal, a withered lime precariously placed on the rim. “I wanted to see you corazón.”

“Don’t call me that,” you snapped.

Music rang in your ears, a deafening echo that suffocated you beneath the weight of all you couldn’t carry. He fell silent, waiting for an indication that you wanted him there. But none ever came. The irony tasted bitter at the back of your mouth—five years later and still you walked a tightrope he promised to keep upright.

He offered you forever. You just never realized how quickly he could take it all back.

The alcohol stirred in your stomach, bile clawing up the back of your throat and suddenly Joaquín showing up out of the blue wasn’t your only problem. You couldn’t be there. You didn’t know how to stand beside him, feel the heat of his body packed in with everyone else—shame digging its talons into your skin with a malice you probably deserved. Neither of you fought for the love to last.

He didn’t fight for you.

“I came to talk to you-”

“I can’t do this,” you rasped, pushing off the bar before he could finish his half formed pathetic excuse.

“Wait.”

A hand curled into the satin fabric along your back—your quick movements pulling him into the fray. You itched to twist away, remove any trace of his touch that begged to seep into sticky skin and taint the sporadic beating of your heart.

The wall of people stopped you in your tracks, their bodies moving with fluid grace. They called to you, whispered notes of a siren song you could hear beneath the rush of blood in your ears. A thumping promise that banged against a door you sealed shut. You knew it wouldn’t fix anything—only a guarantee to make matters worse—but there was no ignoring what beckoned you forth.

Joaquín called after you, shoving his way through a drunk crowd that barely noticed he was there. You could feel him at your heels, breath fighting its way into your lungs with each punctured gasp—a ragged need for something other than this heat.

His hand curled around your hip, nose buried at the base of your neck.

“Dance with me?” he mumbled.

You allowed your eyes to slip shut, breath spilling past parted lips as the taste of tequila permeated the tip of your tongue. “I hate you,” you sighed, fingers tangling with his.

“Lo se.”

“Then why did you come back?”

The sway of his body behind yours echoed with comfort—that night burned into the back of your mind. “You.”

He spoke with sincerity. A coveted admission he buried the day he wrote those words—his fate sealed with such a tiny stamp. The years may have dragged by, his head barely above water, but the truth still remained. The mere knowledge that you existed somewhere on this Earth—a piece of him left to drag yourself out of the hell he created—broke him little by little. Until he woke up one day, struggling to breathe.

Dancing with Joaquín felt natural. Years spent bar hopping and sneaking into club back entrances weren’t something you could forget with ease.

“It’s not that easy,” you retorted, voice thick and throat constricted. “You don’t just get to…”

“Mírame corazón.”

“No.” The gasp at his touch twirling you slowly in arms you once longed to feel around your waist said otherwise.

There was no fighting something your heart ached for, a pitiful longing you felt claw at the pit of your stomach. The closeness of it, the heat pouring off his body—his hands guiding your hips into a motion the both of you understood better than words spoken in anger. You wanted to hate him. Some parts of you did.

The razor thin line of hate and love blurred as he fit you against his body. A missing puzzle piece you’d been searching for.

He possessed your soul with each step, fingers tangling into his shirt to keep yourself upright. The awkward playfulness that arose like before was nowhere to be found. This time you knew the stakes. He understood the consequences that came with making his choice and he had to live with it every day of his life. Fixing what might forever remain broken would take more than a dance, but it was somewhere to start.

“I fucking missed you,” he whispered—throat tight, constricting his words. He wanted to say more than this, more than words that rang with a hollow truth you might never believe again.

What was stopping you from walking away and leaving him in your past?

What kept you in his arms, following the swivel of hips he craved to grip through the years?

“Joaquín,” you breathed, eyes half lidded and sweat glistening in the orange glow.

“Etérea.”

You pulled away, the hint of lips curled into a grin flashing in darkness he had to squint through. The memories were falling into place. Forgotten joy, carefree moments scattered across a life spent together. He trailed after you for years, determined to love you up to his final breath; if only you understood how quick he might have fulfilled that promise. The reason he crawled his way back—pain splintering along his spine, purple hued bruises now a soft yellow along paled skin.

Tugging you back with a chuckle, he felt the anger wash off your body as you collided with him. His chest snug against your arched back. This was his home. The one place he never dared tell another soul about—too afraid it might disappear.

The gasp you let out was ragged, marred by all the grief he put you through. “I…”

“Yeah?”

“I missed you too,” you relented, head falling back to his shoulder—the mouth you dreamed about finding purchase on your neck.

This felt like a betrayal of yourself. The past five years spent battling demons you never thought could exist in your life. He tore you to pieces with just a few words. Paragraphs of messy ink forever stained in the back of your mind. You could still feel the fucking paper under your fingers—splotches of tears discoloring the pen he used.

How could you allow him to drag you back? But you were tired of pretending to be okay. Exhausted by piteous smiles and pathetic excuses to bring you back to life.

You were stumbling down a dangerous path; his teeth digging softly into salt coated skin that haunted him in dreams. The prick of his incisors scraping along your vein jolted what little sense remained into place—your heart thundering an erratic beat in your chest. He still moved with you, hands securely placed on your hips, body molded to your back until you felt his jeans dig into you.

Waiting on a soldier like me shouldn’t be your future. So I’m doing what’s necessary.

“Stop-” Abruptly he stopped, his touch falling limp at his sides. “No I can’t… We can’t.”

“Joaquín!” Clara’s voice punctured through the thick atmosphere of lust—the wanton need for him washing away with each wave of pain. “You made it.”

“Excuse me,” you muttered, dragging in breath after breath until you lungs burned with the effort. The sting was good, it kept your head above water.

Ramming through the throngs of people you staggered towards the bathrooms. Everyone was far too preoccupied with dancing to crowd the bathrooms and your luck finally came to fruition when you saw an empty hallway. Half worded apologies spilled out of your mouth, tears burning your already hot cheeks as you moved fast enough to send a searing ache down one ankle.

Joaquín’s stomach lurched, his feet already moving before his body could catch up. Michael’s arm looping around his shoulder kept him where he stood, his eyes tracking your stumbling form until the crowd swallowed you whole. Leaving him to agonizingly swallow the stone now stuck at the top of his esophagus.

You were hurt—fighting five years of pain—and he was the one to cause it.

“How was the flight man?”

He snapped to attention, slapping a fake grin on his face he hoped would be enough to sell the lie. “Flight was good. Cramped with all the people.”

“What you didn’t get first class?” Clara teased. “I thought being an Avenger came with perks.”

“Not an Avenger. Well…not yet.”

“Gettin’ too busy for us New York folk huh,” Michael pressed.

Joaquín didn’t hear a word they said, too focused on where you went, what you were doing, how he could rectify his stupid fucking mistake. “Ya cállate hombre. I’m never too busy for you guys.”

“Could have fooled us.” Clara sipped at her drink, a brown lined mauve smile glinting with a voracious sneer he’d seen before. A look reserved for those who warranted such revenge. “I saw you two dancing.”

“Yeah…we were-”

“Too bad she’s already taken isn’t it?” she sighed, the saccharine pitch of her voice slowing the music as a low pitched buzz blaring in his ears.

“W-What?”

“She’s dating someone. A guy from her office. They met a year ago I think? Bueno, we’re thinking wedding bells soon. Since it’s been so long.”

Joaquín’s heart stuttered, mind blaring with a barrage of anger he shut away—self hatred he’d grown familiar with. Time came to a stop, the thumping music falling away, and suddenly he was back in the air. Falling to his death. Your face, your laugh, your voice, whispering in the back of his head—calling him to stay alive. Beckoning him home with wide eyes and forgiveness coated on your tongue.

You couldn’t be lost to him so soon. You were supposed to wait for him.

Only those were fictitious dreams procured in a fractured mind. You didn’t have to do anything. He let you go. And there was no fixing what he destroyed—a grave he dug for himself now lingering with the scent of your perfume, the ghost of your touch haunting him.

“But…” Struggling for air, he straightened his spine—heart twisting beneath the weight of his fuck up. “Wedding bells?”

Clara nodded. “She didn’t tell you?”

The anger was seething in his chest, scorching each vein, clamping around his lungs. “No. That wasn’t mentioned.”

“Pity,” she muttered. “Michael? Another drink mi amor?”

His feet were moving before she could finish her question, hands pushing past drunk people and sweaty bodies lost to the beat of the music. Somewhere in the club you were running to escape a future he now knew could never be. He knew being calm, level headed enough to push through this haze of red, was the only option at this point. But there was no reasoning in love, no sense to be had when you were so close.

Someone cussed at him in Spanish as he managed to make it to the hallway, pushing open the bathroom door without hesitation. You stood alone by the sink. Wiping at tears that refused to stop—your eyes tinged red with how rough you were on yourself. Only when the click of the lock echoed in the small space did you finally look up, finding his reflection in the mirror—your lips twisted into a frown.

“Occupied,” you spit out, yanking another towel from the dispenser.

“Corazón-”

“I don’t want to hear it Joaquín.”

“Five minutes.”

“No. What do you think I don’t want to hear it means? I’ve had enough of the fucking mind games for one night-”

“Escuchame.” The word bit out from the back of his throat, freezing you in place. “What do you want me to say huh? I’m sorry for being an asshole? I’m sorry for fucking up the best part of my life?”

“You were an asshole,” you retorted.

“I know that.” He took three steps, pinning you to the sink, a look you wanted to recognize but couldn’t painting his features. “I know I’m gonna spend every day of my existence apologizing for the shit that I pulled. But what I didn’t know was the truth.”

“What truth are you-”

“Marriage?” he growled like the word dripped with enough sin to kill him on the spot. “You’re practically engaged and chose to dance with me like that? Like I still had a chance?”

Your jaw hung open, mind reeling as the word hit you. “Marriage?” you exclaimed. “Who the fuck…”

“Clara practically jumped for joy with the news.” The laugh dripped with contempt, fingers curling into the edge of the sink as he moved close enough to smell the tequila on your tongue. “I can’t believe I was so fucking stupid.”

“I’m not getting married.”

“Mentirosa,” he huffed.

“Joaquín you’re being insane-”

“Am I?” he snapped. “You’ve driven me insane. Since I lost you I’ve felt pieces of myself disappear.” He dropped his forehead to yours, the warm wash of his breath brushing along your lips—begging for the oxygen you stole when he let you go. “You gotta tell me corazón. Tell me who he is.”

Believing that Clara wouldn’t get involved somehow was ignorance on your part, but some selfish part of you wanted to watch him suffer. To see him break as you did years ago.

Perhaps it was bad of you, a sinister part of your mind speaking, and yet you couldn’t let go of what Clara started. Marriage to a fictitious man—enough of a reality to prove that you were better. That you could live without Joaquín taking up space in your life.

“So you can confront him? I don’t think so.”

Words that only seemed to rile an unforgiving beast buried in the depths of a gentle man. “Someone has to tell him you’re mine.”

Your breath hitched, an all too familiar siren call dragging you to the bottom of an ocean you traversed long ago. “I’m not…”

“Sí lo eres.”

Yes. You were his.

There was no use denying what you could feel in a heart that would forever be carved with his initials. Sacred with its thorns and roots, it drew you to him, captured you with the vow of all he promised before shit fell apart. You were his. You couldn’t even fathom belonging to anyone else. And he knew it the moment your eyes flicked up to meet his—those brown irises you ached for.

“Yeah…” His hand cupped your chin, thumb pulling at a pliable bottom lip willing to fall open. “You know it don’t you bebita?”

“Joaquín-”

Music thumped with a bass loud enough to rattle the walls of this small bathroom, but you could barely hear it over the sound of his heavy exhale. His lips caught yours, hand tightening at the soft breath you pushed into his open mouth—tongue sliding along teeth and taste buds still coated in mezcal. Sucking in air you dug a hand into curls you tugged years ago; still the same man you loved, yet someone entirely different.

A person you longed to know.

You lost all sense when a hand tugged at the skirt of your dress, pushing it up past your hip with a muffled groan. The kisses burned you inside, curling a fist around an already bleeding heart. He devoured you, swallowed each sound and quick pant as you looped your arms around his neck to extinguish the space between your bodies. Fingers dipped beneath the elastic waistband of panties he’d admire later, too intent on the feel of your damp patch and pooling slick.

“Fuck I missed you,” he sighed, teeth sinking into the soft flesh of your throat, palm tipping your head back with a pleased hum. “So wet corazon.”

“I n-need-”

“I know.” Licking a line down your jugular you felt whatever anger still simmered beneath the surface vanish—wanton lust blinding you to the mess this would create. “I’ve been thinking about this. How you feel.”

You moaned, hips pushing into his touch. “Please. Touch me.”

“I am touching you,” he smiled, fingers sliding along your twitching clit with ease—able to rip sounds from you that had gone dormant the day he left. “That what you want? Need that pretty clit played with?”

Nodding frantically wasn’t good enough for a man who dreamed of this moment since departure. He gripped your cheeks, thumb running along a cheek decorated in soft gold glitter courtesy of Clara. A small showing of reverence for the man who toyed with your folds, dipping a finger into your slick and dragging it up slow enough to send shivers up your spine.

“I want words.”

“I-I want you to…”

“To what?” he asked far too smug in the way heat flooded your face, burning the tips of your ears and back of your neck.

Yanking at his curls, you watched in fascination when his head fell back, a groan bubbling past swollen lips. “I want you to make me cum on your fingers,” you breathed, lips pressed to a red flushed ear.

He smiled, dazed by the tight grip in which you held him. “As you wish.”

You should have seen it coming the second you released him, how his lips mashed to yours with a grunt, two fingers plunging into your dripping cunt down to his knuckles. Exactly what you asked for on his terms. You wanted to finish and Joaquín was nothing if not competent in that job. The order falling smooth from your mouth—his mind latching onto it with a desperation you’d never seen in him before.

The heel of his hand ground against your clit, trapping you on the edge of that all too familiar rush of bliss. You were right there. Chasing the edge of something mind numbing. By the hands of a man who ripped you apart, leaving you behind with nothing but blunt words and faded ink.

“That it?” Your body pitched forward, face burying into his shoulder when his fingers struck perfectly. “Yeah that’s it huh.”

“I’m gonna—fuck—g-gonna cum.”

He doubled down, practically ripping the high from you with a voracious need to see you break for him. To burn his name in the walls of your fluttering cunt that coated his palm in your slick. Even through the loud echo of music you could hear the wet squelch of his fingers pounding into you, possessing you in a way that was bound to leave you a shell of yourself.

“Soak my hand,” he breathed against the shell of your ear.

Your thighs trembled, clamping down around his wrist as it tore through you. A muffled shout pressed between teeth you sunk against his neck—marking him with the harsh lines of your canines. The music faded, everything else deafened by the ringing in your ears, the wash of bliss far too much for you to take. It wasn’t until your hand gripped his did he finally cease his movements, pulling away to give you a chance for fresh air not plagued by the scent of his cologne.

“W-Wait.”

“Take your time querida.”

“We shouldn’t…” Reality crashed onto your shores with a harsh sweep that nearly dragged you beneath darkened waves you couldn’t navigate alone.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. Not in the heat of passion with minds muddled by alcohol and adrenaline, not when he still refused to acknowledge that whatever occurred beforehand wasn’t for the best. You were lost, begging for him to lead you somewhere safe. To protect you against the darkness that ravaged your mind for five years. Instead he allowed jealousy to get the best of him.

You were his without question. But at what cost?

“I need some air,” you gasped, pushing him back until you could stand on shaky legs.

“What’s the matter?”

“Nothing.” Everything. “I just need air.”

You needed far more than that. Something that would cure the agonizing pain coursing through your veins, the buzz of pleasure and alcohol barely making a dent. You cringed at the slick smearing along the crease of your thighs as you walked—the consistent throbbing where his fingers hooked into you drove your mind to the brink of something worse than madness. He owned you in a matter of minutes; reminded you exactly where you belonged.

“Stop fuckin’ running,” he called after you, pushing past the crowd.

Clara caught your gaze for a brief moment, concern flashing to the surface before you shook her off. Making a beeline for the only exit people practically poured out of. The air felt cold along your skin, drying the sweat along your arms and legs. And he rushed out after you, close on your heels—snapping at a chance to corner you.

To finally hash out what should have been said five years ago.

“Will you look at me?”

Sucking in a breath, you struggled to calm the overbearing rush in your ears. “Just…let me breathe please.”

“Mi vida-”

“No!” you snapped, whirling around to catch his stunned face. Everything unraveled faster than you could gather it in your shaky palms, slipping between spread fingers and raw nails that clung to peace. “You return after five years of silence and what? You expect me to forgive you? Just like that?”

The echo of your voice traveled down the street, attracting attention from whoever was closest, but you’d breached the point of complacent false smiles and sweet words void of feeling. He’d ripped you to shreds in mere sentences. Sliced through a lonely heart with something he knew would destroy what parts of your relationship held on despite the distance.

“I was willing to wait for years Joaquín,” you sobbed. “But you couldn’t even handle a few fucking months. You were too much a goddamn coward to break up with me the night you left.”

“Do you think I wanted to break up with you?” he snarled.

“Yes-”

“Me vuelves loco.” He’d been reduced to muttering under his breath, hands tugging at his hair as you wiped at the tears with sweaty palms. Love wasn’t supposed to be this. A knife neither of your held onto, plunging into wounds that never stopped bleeding. But he couldn’t stay away.

Who was he without you in his life?

“Maybe you just have to let me go-”

“Don’t you finish that fucking sentence,” he spit between clenched teeth. “You think I wanted to be without you for five years? That life was easy without hearing your voice or seeing your face? That you were alone because of the choice I made? I hate myself for destroying us! I can’t let you go because I’m desperately hopelessly in love with you. You can’t fix that corazón.”

Your breath hitched, familiar words spoken a lifetime ago here in this very spot. “It hurts Joaquín. Being near you is strangling me.”

“Then tell me what I can do. You have to tell me so I can fix it.”

“I don’t know if you can,” you whispered.

Taking the final few steps, he finally stood toe to toe with you—a calloused hand reaching for the curve of your cheek glistening with makeup and tears beneath the dim streetlight. “I’m nothing without you. I just existed for five years until I saw you again.”

His touch was warm, enticing in all the familiar ways that transformed the reasons you fell for him. Even as you shattered before him, there was still comfort to be found in his presence. He was the sunlight on a warm summer day. The reason you bloomed in the seasons of friendship and almosts and forgotten saccharine love. You couldn’t remain tied to the ground without him acting as gravity—twining himself around your broken form to keep you safe.

Even if he was the reason you bled along the cracked pavement below.

Perhaps it was a mistake, a memory you’d look back on in another five years. But he’d been your path since you found his eyes in a crowded classroom. His smile painted across cheeks that flushed red when you asked if he’d like to sit with you—if he’d take the first step in a thousand, start the story and watch it unfold before you.

“Okay,” you breathed, lost in the brown hue that still gleamed after all this time.

The apartment was stuffy after hours of relentless summer heat. A broken fan you never bothered to fix sat precariously on a stack of worn books picked up at the local thrift store. Joaquín thumbed through a familiar title he remembered snagging off your bookshelf in your old bedroom. The pages were yellowed, corners folded and re-straightened, but he could recall the story as if he was back in that old house listening to your family through the walls.

“How’d I know you pick that one,” you mused, discarding your purse onto a slightly messy kitchen table.

“Can’t help that I love it.”

You smiled. “Even though I never let you borrow it.”

“Never said I had to give it back,” he retorted, leaving it on the small wooden table by your counter, making a note to stick it in his back pocket when you weren’t looking. “The place looks…the same.”

“And that’s bad?” He snapped to attention, stomach jumping. Only to melt at the shining grin you gifted him in the yellow glow of your lamps. “Eres tan fácil.”

Laughter came easier the closer it got to midnight, the familiar warmth of your apartment echoing with memories he wouldn’t soon forget. “Mala.”

If he closed his eyes that night existed with a clarity that punched the air out of his chest. The quick pace you fell into one another—uncaring of what might come to pass. You were reckless in love, desperate to finally feel the touch held back for so long, the longing that was bound to snap. He could smell the perfume you wore, taste the drink you were nursing before Michael pushed him to dance with you. How you sounded beneath him, looked and tasted and touched after years of pure imagination.

Tonight sparked with a charged past ready to play out before your very eyes. A moment in time neither of you could ignore for much longer.

“Water?” you asked breaking the weighty silence.

He shook his head, eyes dark with a familiar need you’d seen once before. “I wanna talk. Like we used to.”

“Talk…” Sucking in a breath, you wiped at the sweat gathering along your chest. Joaquín followed the slow movement with rapt attention—his mouth dry and chest thundering with a restless heart. “What’s there to say? I already know what you’ve been up. Congrats by the way.”

The words were dry off your tongue. A silver tipped blade pressed to the base of his neck.

How could he blame you? When the reason he left you forged a direct path to who he became. The title he carried across his back as he struggled for air.

He wouldn’t be Falcon if he stayed. But he also might have been happy.

“You’re the first person I wanted to tell,” he said softly, admitting what he harbored in a cracked heart for years.

Your heart twisted, stomach fluttering in that old way it used to when you’d catch sight of him. Frustrating. Even as you relished in emotions you longed for after he left. Hope that this would turn into more—a future you could count on. Rather than a consequence you never asked for. Sleeping with him wasn’t the problem; neither was loving him. Even if he never returned you would regret making those choices, pieces of your life that set your heart on fire.

“You could have. If you stayed.”

Joaquín sighed, fingers curling into fists as he gnashed at his cheek. “I know. You never asked about me.”

“What,” you blurted out.

“Micheal knew where I was. He kept in touch. You could have asked him.”

You scoffed. “And who broke up with who again?”

“I wasn’t going to make you wait on me corazón. Being a ball and chain isn’t who I am and you know that. You had a whole life ahead of you. Things you planned to do before that night-”

“What life?” you exclaimed, voice pitched high enough to scratch an already raw throat. “I was broken for five years! Time I’ll never get back. All for what? So you could feel better about a decision you made on a whim? Without asking if that’s what I wanted.”

Ripping open yet another wound he felt his heart give out at the shine of tears on your face. Makeup smudged along the rim of your wet eyes, lips smeared with the remnants of a lipstick he knew was stained along his shirt. You were everything he wanted in life, the moonlight he basked in at the end of the day. The sirens song he crawled home to hear one last time, even as he drowned beneath a shattered love you might never reciprocate again.

He exhaled long and heavy, wiping at his eyes as he glanced around your darkened apartment. A couch he’d slept on was shoved near the window, a new T.V. mounted on the wall was turned off, and an old record player he helped you find now set on a rickety stand. Records piled on a coffee table he could remember eating off of before you found a kitchen table.

A home you built in the time he was gone. One that was always meant to be entwined with his possessions and memories.

Orange flowers sat in a familiar crystal vase his mother used to keep by the kitchen window. Always a new bouquet brought in from his father at the end of a long work week. Music flowing between the walls of a house he now stayed in as he fought to prove himself to you all over again. A past that you lingered in without knowing.

“Cempasúchil.”

You caught what he was fixed on—a small gathering of flowers from the corner you grabbed without thinking. A routine you’d grown to love even after years of his absence.

“For your pops. You said they were his favorite.”

His heart dropped. “You still bring him flowers?”

“I go every Friday with your mamá.”

Every Friday…

Five years of days spent with his family. Even after things fell apart.

He loved you.

He would love you til his last breath, the final beat of a heart that always belonged to him from the very first page. There was no denying a truth that couldn’t be buried in the depths of guilt and grief. Pain laced with memories that clung to apartment walls and city streets. You were his forever. His soul twisted around a body carved with your name.

“Siempre te amaré,” he whispered.

The gasp sounded sweet off lips he could still taste. “Joaquín-”

“I do,” he confessed. “There hasn’t been a day I haven’t loved you mi corazón.”

“You can’t just say that.”

“Why?” he demanded.

Slowly you lowered yourself into a chair that was once stuffed into the corner of his living room. “Because we still have to talk about what this is. What we’re gonna do to figure it out while you’re home.”

“What this is? I know what it is. I’ve known since you asked me to sit next to you. I’m yours. I’ve been yours all along.” He dropped to his knees quicker than either of you expected, his hands grasping the warmth of your thighs through sweat stained satin. “I got hurt mi vida.”

Your body stilled, hands cupping his cheeks as fear threaded between each rib and nerve. “What?”

“I…I was stupid and made a mistake and they had to stitch me back together. But I couldn’t care about any of it. Not the fucking pain, or surgery, or having to recover for months, because when I was falling out of the sky…all I could think about was you.”

How quickly you could have lost him and you never knew. You weren’t there when he was struggling to live. You weren’t there when he woke up. You…weren’t there.

“I-I’m sorry,” you choked out. “I didn’t know. I would have come to you-”

“No, no está bien. Yo estoy bien.”

“You almost died and you’re saying it’s okay?”

He smiled, forehead pressing to your stomach—fingers digging into what flesh he could hold as you clung to him. Some part of you sunk your teeth into the fear of losing him, dragging it close to swallow down that feeling. Every emotion, all the pain it kept you alive. It let you know he was there with you and for the first time in five years you held the choice of forever in your hands once more.

There he was offering you everything he was. All he could be, all you knew he was.

The man you were always destined to fall into.

“It is okay,” he murmured. “Because I’m here with you. And I didn’t think I’d get that again. I’m home.”

This is where belonged. The space that called him forward and you watched his eyes raise to find yours. Love shining in irises that haunted his waking life. Everywhere he went Joaquín saw you. In the midnight sky, in the summer days spent on a stuffy base somewhere, in the people he met and allies he formed. You existed in all that encompassed him—a soul he’d struggle to find and vow to keep.

“Rip me apart mi vida. Destroy me as many times as you want. I’ll do anything you want if it means stayin’ with you.”

“Mi amor,” you said beneath a soft breath and his heart mended itself with a shaky ragged gasp.

He rose to meet your lips as your fingers scrambled to find purchase in his jacket, tugging him close enough to nearly tip the chair back. If it fell he’d be there to catch you. Perhaps that’s what had your legs sliding up around his hips, a soft moan pressed to a tongue that slid along yours. The taste of you drove him off the brink of what kept him sane—all the attempted to stow inside an aching heart.

Licking into your mouth with a broken whimper, he dragged you to the edge of the chair, hands kneading at the top of your ass. You yelped into it with a smile, diving into the kiss with a fervor that had him leaking into his jeans. The heat from earlier pooled along his spine again and Joaquín knew he’d barely survive sinking into you; he could feel his cock twitch with every stroke of your tongue.

“Bedroom,” he gruffly got out, yanking you up onto wobbly legs. “‘M not fucking you in the kitchen. Not tonight.”

You grinned, tugging him down an all too familiar path. “There’s going to be more than one night?”

“If I have any say about it.”

“Eres bien creído.”

Hands ripped at your dress, pulling it up and off your body before he could even reach the bed slightly messy with rumpled covers. A staple he could always remember. It made him smile against your lips as you tugged at his clothes—those same warm hands sliding along bare skin. The jacket was left by the door, shirt tossed to the depths of your room and Joaquín placed you on the mattress before reaching for his belt.

Chills rippled along your back at the sound, heart hammering in your chest. He looked the same. Yet something older was housed in his stance, someone who was sure of himself in the way he pushed away the last of his clothes. A grin bloomed across swollen lips.

You admired him as much as you could. Dragging your eyes down to the red tip of his leaking cock and breathlessly finding his eyes in the dark of your bedroom. Last time neither of you got this chance. A moment of stillness before you collided. Silence thick with an electrifying tension you felt down to your toes.

Lifting a bare leg, you placed your foot on his stomach, dragging it down until his hand wrapped around an ankle—tugging you close with a harsh breath.

“Being a tease huh?” he mumbled, lips finding a home at the top of your thigh.

“Not my fault you’re easy to mess with.”

“Since when?”

You smiled, fingers curling around his mussed hair. “Since always.”

Words slipped to the back of a clouded mind when his hands tugged at the lace of your panties, sliding them off and marveling at the wet spot left behind. He could practically taste you on his tongue. The addicting tang of what he’d been craving since he left you at that airport. With a shuddered breath he slid a thumb along your folds, circling your clit hard as you writhed under his needy touch.

“W-Want you inside me,” you forced out, hips rolling into his hand.

Somehow through the haze of lust he made himself follow through with your plea. Hand positioning himself along the dripping hole he’d drink from later—his tongue swiping along his bottom lip. You were mewling for him, fingers twisting into the sheets and legs dropping open wide enough to accommodate his hips.

He slid along your cunt, grinning with unhinged glee at the loud moan ripped from your throat. You were unable to beg. Mouth barely forming coherent words as he toyed with your pulsing clit. Precum stained the pretty clean skin of your inner thigh, smearing a mess into the hair he was desperate to bury his nose in.

“Say it for me yeah?” he muttered, voice deep with gravel.

A gasping moan hit his ears, your chest heaving. “Please. Fuck me. Come in me. Just p-please do something-”

“Sh, sh. I know mi corazón. You’re empty without my cock huh?”

You nodded, yanking him close enough to feel his chest against yours. “Need it baby. Need you to stuff me full.”

“Mierda-” The near painful twitch of his cock had him burying his face into your neck, teeth scraping against the delicate chain of your necklace. Until he caught sight of silver tucked between your breasts, hidden by the black lace of your bra—a piece of himself he thought he’d never see again.

Only when he was ripping at your final item of clothing did you drag yourself through the thick fog. “W-What’s wrong-”

“You kept them,” he breathed, lips mashing to yours and hand roughly kneading your breast with a grunt. “Wore them the whole fuckin’ time tonight and I didn’t know.”

You wanted to explain that they were all you had left of him, a comfort after all this time. But his mouth closing around your nipple shut down everything but the sparks rushing along veins you didn’t know could exist. He sucked at your skin, teeth indenting into the softness of your breast. That desperate hunger shoving to the forefront—something you could feel wrap around the length of your spine.

He rutted into you, cock brushing where you needed him most, but you couldn’t let go of those words. There was no world where you wouldn’t love him.

No plane of existence you’d be where he wasn’t.

“They’re yours,” you gasped, grinding against him—head tipped back as his teeth scraped your throat. “I’ve always worn them. Since you—fuck baby—sent them to me.”

Whatever he could have said vanished, his mind going white at the thought of you wearing his dog tags from the very beginning. Five years of holding him over your heart. Time he believed to be filled with a cold resentment suddenly colored itself with a flushed pink haze—a dreamlike state he drowned in with a smile painted across his face. You loved him. Even through all this…it would always be him.

He sunk into you in one thrust and you cried out, clinging onto his shoulders at the sudden stretch, his hips meeting yours and head falling to your chest. A muffled fuck pressed between the curve of your breasts—tongue licking the bead of sweat along skin that glistened in the yellow haze of your bedroom. Breath twisted in your lungs, trapping what oxygen remained as he snapped his hips down into you again. Dragging out with slow cruel thrusts.

“So fuckin’ good,” he gasped, hand tangling with yours and pressing it into the plush comforter. “Gonna make me lose my damn mind.”

“Baby.” The word was a desperate whine on your lips, thighs wrapped tight around his hips—chest heaving for resuscitation from the plane of bliss he threw you into.

Without a map you feared you’d be lost to its depths. But his teeth digging into your lip kept you close, satiated the tremble going down your limbs.

There was no mercy in how he fucked you. No time for soft reverence and tender quiet moments. That would find its way to you later—when the moon began its descent along the horizon, time reaching far enough to still what small pleasures you could steal. He’d bring you back to life with a tongue buried in slick folds and fingers pumping deep.

Tonight he ravaged, took his fill of what you both craved as the night went on. Two souls verging together at last. Finally found after years of distance—entire galaxies spanning the years he spent away from your touch.

“Listen,” he breathed hotly into your mouth, lips quirking as the sound graced ears unable to discern his voice from the thundering of your own heart.

But he slowed his movements, plunging into you with a biting grunt you felt burn into your lungs. The loud wet squelch of your cunt bouncing off the walls of an apartment privy to this once before. Sinful in its agonizing beauty. He smiled, grinding his hips hard enough to drag a throaty moan from your chest—his lips there to swallow what you offered with glee. Heat burned beneath your cheeks, the tinge of shame digging between ribs and arteries.

Until he dropped to his elbow, your name encased in a high breath—his brows pulled together and teeth indenting the plush bottom lip you longed to suck on.

“S-Shit baby I’m not—fuck-” The word dragged between a clenched jaw as he rapidly pounded into you, the bed creaking from the force you felt with each stroke.

His cock struck against your walls, a creamy slick pouring out to drip down your ass, coating his balls as they slapped against skin he’d dig his teeth into later. A mess. He’d reduced the both of you to a fucking mess, unable to pick through a hazy mind. Each moan you let out grew higher, thighs shaking from the effort, and he ripped away from your touch before you could drag him close. Looping each limb over arms prominent with veins and familiar tattoos.

Mistakes made back in the youth of being nineteen. Time he spent wrapped in any part of you he could get. Even as something more simmered beneath a friendship always destined to change.

“Joaquín-” you sobbed, clutching at any part of him you could reach, his chest and shoulders red with marks from your nails. “I-I’m not engaged.”

He stilled, eyes wide and mouth parted as he panted for air. “You said-”

“I-I could never marry someone t-that wasn’t you.”

A strand finally snapped, edge reached long before you could ask him what created it in the first place. Brown suddenly bled into black and he now fucked you with everything in him. Lips sealed over yours, hand clenching tight around your hips—his coarse hair dragging along a throbbing clit that begged for more. Your walls fluttered around him, a shattered cry lost to his kiss, but nothing had felt so perfect.

“‘M gonna fuckin’ marry you,” he grunted, forehead resting against yours, bending you up and into his body—cock ramming right up into a spot that left you going blind with pleasure. “Make you mine.”

Everything you longed for—five years of love and grief—crashed at the shore of your body. Ripping the final pieces of your heart from the decay it lived with. You came with his name on your lips, back arching up into him hard enough to draw a flicker of pain down your spine—your eyes rolled back and fingers twisted into the fabric beneath you.

He collapsed over you with a choked shout, face buried into your neck as he coated your walls with that soft pool of warmth. A feeling you had forgotten about—bliss wrapped in the taut muscles of his arms, his body a heavy weight on yours. You were lost to it, drowning in his scent and taste, but his lips finding yours tied you back down to Earth. His hands sliding along your skin, tongue licking the pain off the back of your teeth.

Joaquín pieced you back together with a love that altered you entirely, shifted all that you were beneath the tidal waves of his heart. Peace settled in the base of a hammering heart—hope finding a home in the bottom of a fluttering stomach.

You loved him.

Eternally.

And that would forever be enough.

Sunlight danced along the bare skin of your back, face pressed into his chest—ear above a steady beating heart. It lulled you to sleep after hours of rekindling a flame that never went out. His hands a burn along your body, lips reacquainting with the dips and curves of your thighs. He sought you out in the early hours of dawn with a stiff cock and groggy pleas for your sweet essence.

Who were you to deny him?

He smiled pressing a kiss to your temple, fingers toying with your ring finger. If he narrowed his eyes in the afternoon light he could see a flash of yellow gold along skin he savored—a hand he clutched with promise. It wouldn’t be too big; nor small enough to hide from inquiring eyes. A perfect set of jewels adorned on a finger he kissed, the piece of you yet to hold his permanent promise.

Till death.

Till he found you in the next life.

Slipping from the tangle of your limbs, he relished the leap of his heart at the sight of you spread along the bed. Naked and at bliss, exhausted from his hunger. He stole another kiss along your spine, finding his way through the familiar path of the kitchen that still lingered with the laughter of memories that painted the walls. Times spent with friends—now turned family—moments he might one day have again.

A faded picture of two young kids at high school graduation was pinned to the fridge door, another of a night spent dancing at some shitty frat party—high off the freedom of adulthood. Two versions of a love he’d could pick out with his eyes shut tight.

Another would set nicely beside them. Of a wedding in a small backyard, an aisle scattered with orange petals and white daisies adorned to his tux—a veil dragging along the floor where you walked towards him. An image that would be placed on altars in memory, an offering set between the frame and candle as he clutched you tight even in the afterlife.

The coffee machine beeped, two mugs set on the counter as he poured, and that’s where you found him. Fussing with the bottle of cream and sugar packets damp from hot liquid. He wore his jeans low on hips you bit at some point in the night—the indent of your teeth marked into skin that would forever wear your mark. Even if you had to place it night after night.

Your arms looped around his waist, lips finding the warm skin of his back. “I wanted to wake up with you.”

He laughed, turning gently in your hold. “I wanted to surprise you.”

“You can still surprise me.”

“Yeah?” he grinned, eyes gleaming with a light that caught your breath in the base of your throat. “Got something in mind?”

Life suddenly held a different glow. Contentment filling veins with a something new. A piece that didn’t exist without him near—his love pressing deep and bright into a chest that burned hot. He left you breathless, begging for reprieve. Yet losing yourself to it all the same.

“So…about everything-” He cut you off with a kiss, hand dragging your left palm to his mouth. “Did you mean what you said last night?”

He smiled, at ease with the nerves he could feel beneath your wrist. “If I did?”

“I’d like that,” you breathed.

“Siempre estaras conmigo mi corazón?”

You nodded, heart singing beneath his love. “Si mi amor. I’ll be with you forever.”

©moonlight-prose do not feed my work into ai, do not steal my work, if you are a minor, spam like my fics, or are a blank blog you will be blocked.

[onlyswan]

dreamboat | jjk (1)

summary: aboard the dreamboat, jungkook finds himself drawn to a beautiful stranger who appears to be drowning in melancholy. weeks later, he sees her face on the other side of the aquarium at his apartment building’s lobby. he soon learns that it’s not fate’s grand romantic plans that brought you back to his life. / (alt.) / a shipwreck and a dreamboat form an unusual bond in an aquarium.

non!idoljk x f!reader (jk is a business major who works at the amusement park ; oc works at the call center) / strangers to lovers / fluff, angst, suggestive / chapter wc: 14.9k / total fic wc: 30.8k

warnings/content (for full fic): is it an onlyswan fic if nobody cries? ; smoking ; making out ; mention of nude art ; mention of flashing ; panic attack ; a ghost cameo lol ; s*x scandal ; abuse of authority ; harrassment ; jk throws a punch once ; oc drives a motorbike without a helmet once ; vminjin + yeontan cameos :3 ; tae and jk are the same age tho

-> part two (wc: 15.9k) | spotify playlist (open to song recs <3)

note: my not so little summer project <3 i thought i wouldn’t have the opportunity to dedicate this much time to writing again in the near future so here we are! finishing this story alone felt fulfilling but even more so that i get to share it with you. pls treat it with gentle care 🫂 reblogs and feedback r very much appreciated i love talking to you guys🥺 special thanks to my lovely rio for proofreading and being the sweetest friend :") ilyily

࿐ for those who yearn <3

—

“wait! wait for me! don’t close it yet!”

jungkook’s whole life has led up to this moment. 

from running away from his neighbor’s large snobby dogs during childhood— to participating in run for charity marathons mostly, only mostly, to appease his ex-girlfriend by being interested in her interests.

he successfully escaped from his uneventful class today by faking dizziness. half an hour later, he is racing towards one of the few places in this city where he feels something. 

his best friend’s face is still blurry given the distance, but jungkook doesn’t need to clearly see taehyung’s face to know that he is looking at him unimpressed. 

“why are you here? do you even have a ticket?!” taehyung interrogates him once he reaches the gate.

“do i have a ticket? really?” jungkook smirks, tossing his backpack to the ground. 

he crosses over to the other side, and with ease, sneaks his hand in between the bars to push the lock into place. 

“what do you think i work here for?” 

taehyung sighs and mumbles to himself. “fine, my bad. thought we worked to pay for our bills.”

he picks up the backpack and swings it over his shoulder, heading to the control booth. on the other hand, jungkook climbs on the ship the amusement park owner lovingly named the dreamboat. he places his grip on one of the many vines curiously large butterflies are attached to, fully ignoring the existence of the steps. he hoists himself up onto the wooden floor with ease. 

unhappy faces with blank stares. 

he smiles at them cheerfully.

“i apologize for the hold-up. i’m your captain!” 

“jungkook! sit!” 

“wouldn’t he be the captain?” a high school boy at the very front quips, eyes pointing downwards at taehyung. 

“eh, more like the wind behind our sails.” he ruffles the boy’s head in passing as he trudges over to his desired seat. 

“what?”

his spot, a more suitable better term. the farthest row which most first timers do not dare to sit at; the part of the ship closest to the sky when it swings back and forth, higher and higher, until it feels like he’s going to fall off— but he doesn’t. for short bursts of moments, he’s flying. 

the passengers are erupting in ear-splitting screams, curses, and laughter. the wide smile plastered on his face could probably be described as sadistic as he observes their reactions. most would find this ride as a nauseating, life-threatening ordeal and its name ridiculously ironic. however, to jungkook, this is what it means to be alive.

he imagined he would be alone here again today.

but as he is brought higher into the air, he discovers one person strapped to the last row of the other side of the ship. 

the earth begins to move in slow motion. 

they have their face buried in their palms, body shaking with what he can only guess is intense sobbing. 

gone is the smile on his face. 

jungkook has witnessed a few criers, sure, but not to this degree. a wave of sadness washes over him. he feels guilty and he doesn’t know why. why the hell would he be? he doesn’t even know who you are. 

are you that scared? if you’re scared, why would you volunteer to go here alone? if not, then why is your heart breaking? 

for a few seconds, the noises cease and his focus on you becomes amplified. 

and why is his breaking too? 

your sobs and gasps for air are once more drowned out by the fear and adrenaline of the majority. nevertheless, the ache they caused in his chest stays. 

what could it be? the reason you’re crying like this at an amusement park? wouldn’t it be because you got stood up by your date?

lost in thought, he’s been unblinking. the wind blows as the speed of the boat picks up and he groans when dirt gets into his eye. he harshly rubs and rubs and he stops to check if it’s gone… he knows it’s gone because now he can see clearly— one of the most beautiful people he has laid his eyes upon.

the wind blows into your hair and it finally grants him a good view of your face. red, swollen eyes and mascara running. you wipe your tears away, distant eyes falling on your lap, and you take a sharp inhale. you’re a tragedy and so gorgeous still that the aching of his heart doubles due to its intensified pounding. 

there’s no way… he debunks his theory. there’s no way a man could ever waste the opportunity of going on a date with you. only a fool. 

slow motion comes to a full stop.

shit, shit, shit. 

why can’t he look away? 

you’ve made eye-contact and you’re not breaking it. 

he nervously swallows the lump in his throat.

“huh?”

the ringing of the bell snaps him out of… whatever that experience was. he looks around and it is revealed to him that the ship has returned to its neutral position. passengers are already hopping off, including you.

wait, including you… 

when did you get a cap?!

“fuck!” he curses, kicking his feet in annoyance.

he then proceeds to break the promise he swore to himself: never run after a girl again. 

“yah, jungkook! where are you going?! you need to clock in!”

taehyung releases yet another sigh as he loses his best friend among the crowd. nearly at the same time, he hears a thud that originates from the control booth. he blankly stares at the backpack that mysteriously fell off the chair. 

“does he have snacks in here at least?”

—

blue tube top and black baseball cap worn backwards. blue top and black cap. blue top and black cap. jungkook chants in his head like a maniac as he navigates the grounds, trying his best not to lose sight of your back. sweat has started to form as beads on his forehead. he squeezes one eye shut, wary of the sting, before wiping them away with the back of his hand. 

he ran with all his might, but now that you’re almost within reach, he’s suddenly nervous.

“miss- miss! you dropped this!” 

you turn around abruptly so his fingers end up only grazing your arm. the first thing he notices is your knitted eyebrows. he doesn’t know whether it mostly indicates annoyance or confusion. 

you merely glance at the handkerchief on his open palm. “it’s not mine.” 

you walk away from him and you are a magnet he is curiously drawn to. 

he stands in front of you, sweaty and stuttering like a student introducing himself to a class for the very first time. 

“but are you okay? i-i couldn’t help but to notice that you were cry- uh, uhm… you-you seem to  have troubles.” 

he clears his throat, turning his cheek for a second as to avoid melting under your intense gaze. he marvels at your beauty but he can’t pull himself together to admire it from a close distance. 

“sorry, i don’t mean to pry. i’m just concerned.” 

seconds pass and he doesn’t receive any sort of answer. no affirmative nod; not even a roll of the eyes. you stare at his face blankly as your feet become rooted into the ground. strands of your hair dance with gusts of the wind. it could be a haunting sight. your glossy eyes are reminiscent of deep, turbulent waters. there was a twinge of doubt on the accuracy of his words before, however, it now seems to ring true. 

could it really be because of a boy?

a bicycle enters his line of vision. 

a little too close not to cause an accident. 

“move!” he yells out the warning, but he still takes matters into his own hands by pushing you over to the side and using his own body as a shield. 

the bicycle speeds past and the rider screams something unintelligible. 

jungkook’s nostrils flare. “kid, that’s not allowed in here! where did you come from?!” 

the security guard running after the rule-breaker moves past him, but not before hitting his back with the baton. 

“jungkook! why didn’t you stop him?!”

“yah! what was that for?!” 

he scoffs, glaring towards the direction of the intruder and his co-staff, who has an entirely different job from him. why didn’t he stop him?! 

while he was distracted by the commotion, he was also unaware that you managed to swipe the handkerchief loosely hanging from his grip around your arm. 

his angry expression softens. 

you wipe away your tears that are freely flowing against your will. earlier, you were sobbing. right now, your face is devoid of any expression. he can’t decide which is more heartbreaking.

“are you okay?” he carries on to ask again despite the both of you knowing the answer, but he just doesn’t know what else to do. 

“i’m okay,” you say. “thanks for finding my handkerchief… and for saving me from the- the, yeah…” 

you’re about to walk out of his life until his mouth blurts out- “wait! take this!” 

he wishes the ground would swallow him whole. you blink at the small packet of sour gummies on his open palm and he wishes the ground would swallow him whole. 

even he thinks this is ridiculous. he had a handkerchief in the left pocket of his jacket and now it’s yours. he had gummy worms in the right and for some reason he also wants you to have it.

“why?”

he has the same question.

“just because…”

no, that won’t do it.

“maybe it could make you feel better.”

oh my god.

“if you decide to ride the spinning top… it helps when you’re nauseated.”

still with the unreadable expression, you probe no further and accept his edible remedy. 

“thank you.” you politely bow before taking your leave.

he doesn’t run after you this time. after all, his pockets are empty. 

meeting you— this is probably the first and last time. 

he exhales through his mouth. disappointed. he turns around and tries to look for you again. 

blue top and black cap… 

there you are. 

leaving- 

wait. 

the spark of hope quickly fizzles out. you pull your hand out of your pocket, tossing something into one of the trash bins. he’s too far away to identify the item, but it couldn’t be… right?

he huffs in sheer disbelief.

“huh, she’s pretty and rude.” 

—

if he’s being honest, jungkook doesn’t like this job much. graphic design is there, and it’s been a pretty sweet gig especially when he’s desperate for extra cash. anyway, taehyung got this job first, which took away time from their regular hangouts, so he would often visit his best friend during his free periods at the university. long story short, one of the managers scolded them both for playing around throughout taehyung’s shift, and as a punishment, she employed jungkook.  

she is the reason why he is spending his sunday morning putting on strangers’ seatbelts and lap bars so they won’t fall off the rollercoaster and die. he was trained to double-check everything, but he is a bit more paranoid about lawsuits than the management, so despite the extra waiting time some passengers aren’t happy about, he makes that triple. 

as fast as he can, while maintaining meticulousness, he does his final round of checking. so far, everyone is safely strapped to their seats. until he reaches the last row and finds the only person there with their lap bar unlocked. how did he miss that? 

“ma’am, your lap bar isn’t secured. do you mind if i-”

the woman shakes her head without a word. as he gets to work, his eyes can’t help but to stray. most of her face is hidden by a face mask and sunglasses. it’s kind of funny because it’s actually been a gloomy day. 

“ah, there you go. safe and sound!” 

“thanks,”

he flashes her a bright smile. the last and apparently most important employee rule.  

“you’re welcome!” 

—

 

“why aren’t you eating?” taehyung asks with a mouthful of corndog. 

jungkook lifts his head up from the table, sends him a glare, then drops it again. he didn’t get much sleep last night studying for their upcoming tests. he’d much rather spend his whole lunch break with his eyes closed. he’d go as far as saying that moving his jaw to chew food sounds like exerting too much energy and he couldn’t be bothered.

“change shifts with me. i fucking hate sundays.” 

“depends…” taehyung pretends to be in deep thought. “will you buy me a meal everyday until our shifts rotate again?”

“do you want to die?” 

“no, but it looks like you will before me.” 

jungkook yawns, sleepy tears flowing down his temple. “you might be right…”

“were you up all night thinking of that girl?” 

“huh? no.”

“you’re lying.”

“shut up,” he groans, adjusting himself into a more comfortable position. 

so a beautiful stranger has been plaguing his mind. big deal! happens to the best of us. 

taehyung cackles at his demise, thoroughly amused. “why? didn’t she throw away your gift?” 

“it wasn’t a gift.” he argues. “and i know, she’s exactly my type.” 

“bro, you’re fucking hopeless.”

“i know that too,” he calmly replies. “i kind of miss her.” 

“at least it’s not your ex anymore, i guess.” taehyung mutters before obnoxiously sipping on his strawberry lemonade. “want to sneak into the security camera room? i’m curious. i want to see her.”

“can’t you just let me sleep?!” 

“wow, you’re so grumpy today.” 

took him long enough to deduce.

“then should we go after your nap?” 

“i need to work!” jungkook snaps. he straightens his back, rubbing his face in frustration. “go- go do whatever you want!”

taehyung’s chewing slows down, appearing almost scared at his best friend’s outburst, but everything is a game with the two of them. “but i don’t know what she looks like.” 

jungkook sighs, squeezing his eyes shut. 

“okay, fine!” 

in a state of exaggerated panic, taehyung gathers his things in one clean sweep, cradling them in his arms. 

“i’m leaving!” he dashes out of the break room as if he’s running for his life. 

jungkook huffs out a laugh at the comedic scene. as soon as his smile drops, so does his head. 

—

 

it’s past midnight, which means it’s already friday. jungkook has been glued to the computer for the past three hours, working on a brochure he was commissioned to make. this task would go along smoothly if only his client didn’t have such a long list of demands, but alas, he is desperate for a good review after his past client’s four paragraph-long criticism. a boomer’s opinions hardly matter to him, but he knows how a single bad review alone can negatively affect reputation. 

one thing’s for sure, everyone’s making it hard for him to fucking quit energy drinks. 

he tosses the empty can into the trash bin beside his desk. away with his anti-radiation glasses, too. it lands in an awkward position over his keyboard. he couldn’t care less. everything hurts. 

he keeps his eyes closed as he stretches his fingers, neck, and back with strained moans and grunts. the sweet relief causes him to slump lazily on his chair. at that moment, an internal battle starts. should he do the responsible thing and continue working? or should he just say fuck it and go to bed? 

“no but seriously! why would she throw them away?!” 

completely unrelated. 

a thousand miles away from the topic at hand. 

“jungkook!” taehyung growls from the bed, furiously pressing at the buttons of the controller. “it’s been two weeks! when are you going to move on?” 

jungkook spins the chair to face him with a deadpan expression. the ps5 hogger is too focused on the television screen to even notice. 

“you wouldn’t expect it but those aren’t cheap.”

“then maybe you shouldn’t have given it away to a stranger.” taehyung shrugs. “but that’s just me.” 

“that was out of my control.” jungkook defends. “you should’ve seen her.” 

“well, you wouldn’t let me.” taehyung mumbles, but he obviously wanted him to hear. “no thanks. crying at the amusement park? she’s got to have some real issues.” 

“so what? we all got issues.” 

“not me,” he sends jungkook a smirk. “if i don’t acknowledge them, they’re not there.” 

“and that, my friend…” jungkook has decided to retire from his work area tonight. he pats taehyung’s shoulder as a display of faux sympathy. “is your biggest issue.” 

wearing a childish grin, he grabs the other controller from the floor.

“now, shall we rank up?” 

—

 

it’s been a few days since summer vacation started. he normally comes home to busan during the school breaks for a temporary taste of childhood bliss. he spends the entire day watching television, eating home-cooked meals, and not thinking about requirements at all.

too bad his vacation is suspended due to his adult responsibilities. 

at least that’s the excuse he used. 

his family has been staying with relatives for the past month because their home is currently under renovation. and well, jungkook’s dorm is suffocating enough on his own. staying under one roof with nine other people? hard. pass.

he may or may not be regretting that decision now, however. all of a sudden, coming home from work with a bag full of ramyeon and beer feels too depressing. even more so that he has no one to share them with. all of his friends have gone home. taehyung, too. he found someone who could temporarily fill in his place and did not think twice about leaving jungkook behind. he can’t blame him.

jungkook enters the apartment building. as always, quiet and dim. he gets that the owner is trying to save money, but isn’t it a bit too early to start turning off the lights? he rolls his eyes despite the lack of a witness. 

they are very lucky that he has grown somewhat fond of this place.

jungkook allows himself to be roped in by the only source of warm light in the lobby. he finds himself incredibly silly for being entertained by goldfishes swimming around in an aquarium, but after a hectic day, this is where his brain cools down. 

“hello everyone,” he coos at them.

do fishes even react to baby talk? he wouldn’t know. the only pet that lasted him years and is still alive is their family dog, gureum. 

“how was your day? i hope it was better than mine.” 

—

 

on the other side of the aquarium stands you, watching a boy talk to the fishes while he is blissfully unaware of your presence. an endeared smile graces your face unbeknownst to you. 

eventually, there arrives a moment when most of the fishes favor a certain side and they clear out before his eyes. 

that is when he finally notices you. 

your heart begins to race, but he appears to be more shocked than you are. you stand up straight nearly at the same time. 

despite the dark, they’re impossible to miss. his breathtaking eyes— which were filled with pure wonder and adoration only seconds ago— growing in size as soon as they saw yours. 

“i know you…” 

a bucket of ice cold water is dumped over your head. 

“the girl who cried at the dreamboat!”

and while you do not appreciate the rather ungentlemanly pointing of finger, you’re glad to be able to breathe out a sigh of relief. 

well, and there’s also the crippling shame.

you didn’t want your first impression on anyone to be the most pitiful version of yourself. 

it’s been over a month for fuck’s sake. how does he remember your face so well?

“wow,” he gapes. “you changed your hair.”

you touch your hair, feeling a little conscious. 

is that a good thing or a bad thing? 

it’s your first time changing your hair color; plus, the last time you had bangs was in middle school. it’s been weeks since you had the big transformation, but you’re not quite sure how you feel about it yet. 

“yeah, light pink…” 

“it suits you well.” 

“thanks,” is all you manage to respond with. 

a gust of awkward silence passes by. there’s the instinct to run away— knocking at your brain, pulling at your limbs. but you can’t think of an excuse. your feet won’t move… eventually you stop minding that. the goldfishes are too beautiful to look away from. they work as the perfect distraction from the other soul standing across. 

“so, um- i’ve never seen you around here.”

“i moved in today.”

“oh, i see… that makes sense.” 

you hum to fill the quietness that follows, thinking of what else you could say, but he beats you to it.

“i live at the 13th floor.“ 

what did he say? do you live on the same floor? that’s impossible.

“how about you?” 

“hm, 10!” 

you blurt out the first number that pops into your mind. you quickly pretend like you’re not freaking out inside by shifting the topic.

“do they-” you gesture to the aquarium. “do they have names?”

“names?” 

the random question seems to catch him off guard.

“none that i’m aware of.” he shakes his head. “i don’t think so- no.”

“oh…” your shoulders sag in disappointment. “that’s sad.”

but then again, you should’ve lowered your expectations and reminded yourself where you are. they were not bought as pets. they were bought for display. 

—

 

the last time jungkook saw you was over a month ago. maybe your face is a tad different because you’re not crying. the new color of your hair compliments you in a way unlike before’s yet just as beautiful. the bangs make much of the difference too. he doesn’t know how old you are, but you look younger somehow. from his point-of-view, he could say that much has changed. but not the melancholia. 

he watches you gaze into the aquarium in fascination; the lights reflect on your eyes as little twinkling stars. you’re not crying, but why can he still feel your sadness? 

he once told taehyung that if you meet again, he’d give you hell for throwing his sour gummies away. 

funny enough, that plan went out the window the second he laid his eyes on you again. 

“do you want to feed them?” he offers. 

“i already did.”

“you did?”

“i did,” you look up at him innocently, nodding. “i asked the guard.”

“aish, he didn’t tell me.” he throws his arms up with a groan. “i almost overfed them.”

you perk up with interest. “do you always feed them?” 

“when i come home from work.”

“that’s nice…” 

the soft smile you give him makes his heart skip a beat, but he doesn’t know it yet. 

“sorry, um-” you begin smoothing out your clothes, also tucking your hair behind your ears. “i need to get to work. it was nice meeting you.”

“work?” he exclaims. “at this time?”

“graveyard shift,” you simply answer. 

pictures of the dark alleyways immediately flash in his mind. 

“but it’s dangerous to be roaming around here at this time.” 

his radar doesn’t detect crimes being reported around the neighborhood, but with the majority of the building’s occupants being young adults, the streets are often littered with drunkards who have many things to be angry about.

“oh, i don’t walk. i’ve got a bike.”

he hasn’t known you long, but this is the most enthusiastic he has seen you. your face lit up as soon as you mentioned your mode of transportation.

however, he is a tiny bit confused.

it shows on his face, apparently.

“the motor kind,” you clarify. 

“ah, the motor kind-” he claps once as soon as the realization dawns on him. he chuckles to himself. “of course!” 

it was important for you to clarify, jungkook concludes from your tone. the fact that you own a bike is sexy, but you look adorable right now and it is so amusing to him. 

“anyway, i need to go. it was nice to meet you!” 

your heels click against the floor as you head towards the same door he walked in from.

“see you around!” he yells, still wearing a wide grin. 

he remains standing there even though you’re already gone from sight. 

hit with a useless yet concerning epiphany, he blinks.

“she rides the motorbike wearing heels?”

—

 

jungkook’s misery has been pushed to the back of his mind, replaced by an overwhelming giddiness that causes him to drop everything on the floor and jump on his bed. he buries his head into the pillow, but it does nothing to erase the happy grin that’s threatening to make his cheeks sore.

what a small world, huh? 

what is this if not fate?

he flips over and stares at the ceiling as if it’s the starry night sky.

this might just become the best summer of his life. 

—

jungkook comes out fresh from the shower clad only in a pair of black boxer shorts. he hangs the towel he was drying his hair with over his nape, heading to the kitchen to prepare his dinner. he rips the lid of the cup ramyeon halfway, and as he pours hot water into it from the electric kettle, your face appears on his mind again. 

wait, there’s something wrong…

he tilts his head to the side, eyebrows knitting together as he tries to figure out what it is he forgot.

“ah, i’m so stupid!”

he totally forgot to ask your name! 

“shit!” he shouts in higher volume when he realizes that the water has overflowed and is now dripping to the floor. 

he puts the kettle down, taking a few steps back from the mess he made. praise heavens the water wasn’t hot enough for his toes to suffer anything more than a first-degree burn. 

he starts to look around for anything he can wipe the floor with, his tongue poking his inner cheek. 

“still having a bad day.” 

—

but a bad day isn’t enough to break down jungkook’s spirit. he knows there will always come a tomorrow, so he seizes that tomorrow and comes home from work as fast as he can. there’s a big chance that you leave for work around the same time, right? 

so he sits down on the sofa facing the aquarium, and he waits. 

his head turns to the elevator each time it dings.

he taps his foot on the floor.

he checks tomorrow’s weather forecast on the app. clear skies. no chance of rain. high humidity levels.

he goes through the magazines laid out on the coffee table. he learns five ways to get over heartbreak. according to the quiz, he has a sweet and passionate personality based on the flavor of his lip balm. he thinks it’s pretty accurate. strawberry, he strokes his non-existent beard. could never go wrong with it.

next thing he knows, the clock strikes twelve. 

he can no longer control his excessive yawning but his stomach is just screaming for the pack of jjajangmyeon in his cupboard. 

he presses the elevator button with a tight-lipped smile. he’s disappointed that he didn’t see you at all today, but he was raised to have a positive outlook in life. you live in the same building. you have to run into each other again one of these days. 

—

what does jungkook hate more than normal sundays? sundays when he didn’t get enough sleep. 

for some reason, he’s still tragically stuck with working on the worst day of the week despite his repeated objections. the only upside to this particular sunday is that he is assigned to the ferris wheel. in exchange for thrice the amount of his daily wage in discreet tips, what happens in some of those cabins are none of his business. 

if he ends up getting reassigned, he would be pretty fucking pissed off. 

he’s restless as the elevator descends to the ground floor. he’s munching on a protein bar, jogging in place as to warm up his body for a race to the bus stop. 

he can’t be the one manning the bump cars. bump cars are the worst. those kids hit you on purpose, he swears. 

the elevator dings and he runs.

until an eye-catching color forces him to pull the brakes. his sneakers squeak against the tiled floor. 

your back may be facing him, but he can recognize you from that cotton candy hair even from a mile away. you’re right where he was hoping you’d be last night, conversing with one of the janitors. this really isn’t the best time for your paths to cross again, given the reasons he was just grouching about, but his feet refuse to move. 

you go on your tiptoes to sprinkle fish feed into the aquarium. you’re so adorable in your pajamas; you’re almost drowning in the black and white checkered cloth. are those yours in the first place?

“everything you need to know is written here… how much- how often you should feed them depending on the seasons, depending on how big they’ve gotten… jungkook worked really hard in researching. impressive, don’t you think?”

“i see…” he is finally granted his wish to hear your soft voice. “but why don’t they have names?”

the janitor scratches his head at your question. “they look too alike to have names.” 

“hello! i heard my name!” jungkook pops in without a warning, causing mister park to flinch and slap a hand over his chest in shock. 

“jungkook! i’m 71 years old! you could’ve killed me!” 

“oh, that’s right-” he gasps. “grandpa, i’m sorry!”

jungkook attacks him with a bear hug, playfully rocking their bodies back and forth hoping that would calm down his vulnerable heart. for a brief moment, he feels like a child again. 

“this is jungkook.” 

the introduction was already made for him. that’s one less thing he has to overthink. 

“____ here wants to feed the fishes every morning from now on. i told her it’s perfectly alright with me.” the janitor laughs. “with my age, you know how forgetful i’ve become.” 

“really?” he breaks away, surprised by what he just learned. “that’s so nice!” 

“it’s nothing. i’m happy to do it.” you smile and make eye-contact with him, but you soon break it, opting to glance at the aquarium. 

you must like fishes a lot. he only felt bad for them because the janitor on night shift doesn’t give a single fuck about them; that’s why he did all that research hoping it would help with committing to the responsibility, which jungkook ended up shouldering in the end anyway. but you… you’ve been here for what? two? three days? 

“tell you what…” he brings out the pen he keeps in the side pocket of his backpack. “this- this is my phone number. if you need anything, or incase you need someone else to feed them, contact me!” 

he scribbles down his phone number on the notepad grandpa was showing you before his rude interruption. 

“by the way, my unit is 1311. you can also just-” he knocks on the thin air, clicking his tongue to mimic the sound. “knock on my door.” 

jungkook’s watch beeps twice everyday, once at 8:50am and then at 11pm sharp. the sun is burning bright and his shift starts at 9am. yes, he is nervous infront of a girl who is drop-dead gorgeous, but he should also be very much nervous about the (unfair) deduction from his measly salary. 

“okay, i need to run to work! goodbye!” 

—

so, his name is jungkook…

you crane your head to watch him rush out of the building. the uncomfortable sound of his sneakers squeaking against the floor makes you grimace. 

the page he wrote his number on is ripped off from the notepad and handed to you. 

“he’s a good kid.”

you force yourself to smile, and it slowly fades as you tilt down your chin and stare at the string of numbers in blue ink.

long after the janitor has left to fulfill his long list of tasks, you remain standing by the aquarium. 

“you do have someone taking good care of you.” you whisper to the clueless fishes, caressing the glass. a genuine smile appears when two of them swim towards you, beady eyes trying to make sense of the stranger loitering around their homey cage. “you can breathe well and you’re warm in the winter. that’s a relief.” 

after feeding them, next on the agenda is to cook your own breakfast. you head for the elevator, tossing the crumpled up paper into the trash bin before pressing the arrow pointing towards north. 

—

“hyung…”

“why?” 

jungkook sighs. “can you text me?” 

“text you what?” seokjin’s forehead creases in confusion. 

“anything. i just need to make sure my phone still works.” 

thursday has been a slow day at the amusement park despite the school vacation and no one has tried to win a teddy bear since the place opened. seokjin is more than happy to spend his free time playing games on his phone in his own little corner at the amusement park. 

well, that was before jungkook got bored at the ping pong toss booth and decided to hang out at the other side of the wall. 

he shrugs and texts his younger friend the word ‘anything’ just to get him off his back. he goes back to playing his game, not curious enough to interrogate him with additional questions. 

jungkook’s text tone rings at max volume. 

“it does work!” he yells in exasperation, flopping down at his seat. “why hasn’t she texted me?”

“you were whining about the same thing the other day.” seokjin muses as his car crosses the finish line. second place. “you fool, just text her first.”

“i don’t have her number.”

“what do you mean you don’t have her number?”

“i gave her mine.” jungkook says quietly. “we live in the same building and i told her to contact me if she needs anything.”

“then i guess it’s safe to say that she doesn’t need anything from you.” 

“seriously, why can’t i have friends that are nice to me?!” 

seokjin bursts out laughing, definitely not a stranger to jungkook and taehyung’s bickering at the break room. 

“you did this one to yourself! jungkook, flirt better!” 

“easier said than done,” jungkook pouts. 

you make him nervous. his brain goes blank when you’re around. in addition to that, he doesn’t know what you’re going through and he’s scared that you’d end up pushing him away if he oversteps. 

“i gave her candy when we first met and she threw them away.” 

“oh, that’s right,” seokjin loads a new game, snorting. “taehyung told me about that.” 

jungkook’s jaw drops. “is he backstabbing me?”

—

jungkook enters the break room with yet another item from the lost-and-found. it’s been over two weeks since he found this orange beanie on the ground. must’ve fallen from the rollercoaster, that’s his best guess. 

since no one has claimed it— “finders keepers,” he grins as he stuffs it into his backpack. 

“thief,” seokjin jokingly accuses him from the other side of the table. “that’s how you were raised?”

“says the one who took the sony headphones yesterday.” 

“i won it fair and square!” 

he’d argue with the older man again, but his phone vibrating has stolen his full attention. he is hit with disappointment at the same moment that he snatches it from the table. it’s his mom, again, asking him when he’s coming home. 

“you need to stop doing that. it’s getting sad.”

he sighs, hugging his backpack to hide his pitiful face. “i am sad.” 

—

his walks home from the bus stop have always been a period for reflection and pondering. the streets of seoul are scattered with his indecision, worries, and anger. since his mother has been asking him for months, should he just go home and endure their living situation? maybe it’s better to be annoyed with the presence of people instead of being blue with a lack thereof. 

so much for being independent. he spent most of high school anticipating the day he gets to move out, now he wants nothing but to go home. he can’t help but to think that life is but a vicious cycle of wanting and losing. 

too lost in thought, he fails to realize right away that he has entered his apartment building’s vicinity. it’s the smell of cigarette smoke that brings him back to reality. the alley is dark, but he can make out the silhouette of a figure crouched down on the ground. assuming that it’s one of the guards hiding to smoke, he soundlessly enters the confined space with mischief up his sleeve. 

when he gets close enough, the first thing he sees is the tip of the cigarette still burning red as the smoker takes a puff.

a car with blinding headlights zooms past.

it becomes unmistakable then— the identity of the person ten feet away from him. 

there’s no one around here with same hair color. 

none that he knows of anyway. 

he is motionless; clueless as to what he should do. he should probably turn his back and leave. pretend this never happened. he never saw anything. 

he can’t even be hung up on the fact that you smoke. if he thinks back on his past experiences with dating, this would’ve been a turn-off, but he loses the ability to care. the smoke in his lungs is negligible when your wounded sobs are breaking his heart. it’s ridiculous that the urge to also cry is spreading fast in his system, but he had a long day and he feels really fucking shitty. 

you were going to notice his presence eventually. 

he doesn’t know what he was expecting. 

you lift your head, and eye-contact is made. none of you chooses to speak a word. 

you’re as beautiful as the day he first met you.

you stand on your feet and you step on the cigarette, on the emotional connection he swore you had, crushing it under the weight of your boot. 

he blinks away the tears threatening to escape his eyes. he should say something; offer an apology for intruding on a vulnerable moment, but you walk past him before he could form the words, shoulder harshly bumping against him. 

could have it been on purpose? 

“____!” he says your name for the first time, for what sounds like a plea. he follows you home like a lost puppy. “i’m sorry, i-i wasn’t… i thought you were another person… are you okay?”

“what do you think?” you spit out. the delicate voice he knows isn’t there, gone harsh and hoarse. 

“is there anything i can do?”

no response. 

he tries again. “anything at all?” 

“oh my god, can’t you take a hint? leave me alone!” 

your sudden outburst sends him stumbling backwards, the sensation of your hands on his chest still lingering despite the distance that was forcefully created between the two of you. 

“i don’t know you! stay away from me!” 

your infuriated voice echoes throughout the lobby. he is shocked. dumbfounded. his eyes, out of focus, seek your face, and he finds you heaving with tearful eyes. 

he makes an attempt to speak, something to defend himself with, but in the end, he still says, “i’m sorry.” 

a woman walks out of the elevator, and you immediately enter without looking back. jungkook remains standing where he is, with strangers’ eyes on him as if he has committed a grave crime.

—

you slam the door shut, hand still covering your mouth shut despite no one being around to hear your cries. you don’t bother turning on the lights. your shoulder bag falls somewhere on the floor and you collapse on the bed, still in your jeans and your heels hanging off your feet. 

nothing matters anymore.

you’re suffering the punishment of somebody else’s crime. you’ve been casted out, stripped away of your dreams and your dignity. your life is over and you’ve accepted that, but maybe you haven’t. all is unfair. you’re so fucking angry but you’re too tired to feel it. and you’re alone. so alone. no one is on your side and it’s not fair. 

you try to scream out, anything to release your pent-up rage, but it doesn’t happen. apparently, that’s what happens when enough people tell you to bite your tongue raw. 

they say we curl up into the fetal position as a natural response to stress and anxiety because it mimics the sense of security we had when we were in our mother’s womb. the way you see it, your body will always be yours and it is the only one that you need.

so you curl up and you put your arms around yourself. you pat your own back until your wrist falls limp from exhaustion, and you keep your eyes closed until you fall into a deep sleep.  

you pray to god that you never wake up.

—

you fail to achieve peace even in your dreams. in what is supposedly an imaginary land, you were being chased by faceless agitators with torches and pitchforks. you were crying and screaming, running on bare and bloody feet, tripping on branches and the stones they were throwing. 

you open your eyes to darkness.

just as you predicted; nobody listens. 

you feel nothing anymore and you hope it stays that way. if you can’t escape it, then perhaps, you can be desensitized to its horrors. 

you force yourself to sit up on the bed, spending an unknown length of time staring into the void. 

the first coherent thought formed in your head… no, not a thought… a person. 

your bare feet brave the cold floor. the switch of the desk lamp is flicked as you sit at your desk. you grab a pen to write something on the free space of your opened journal pages. 

under those numbers, you note down the name of the owner in cursive.

—

after the shitshow that transpired earlier, sleep became impossible for jungkook. 

he doesn’t quite understand how he feels about you. however, it’s currently clear that there’s a part of him that’s pissed off. you made yourself very clear. he should maintain distance from now on. that’s the sensible, respectable thing to do. at this point, attempts at initiating any form of relationship with you appear to be futile. you’re a stranger to him, as you emphasized. this shouldn’t be as complicated as it is in his head… but fuck, the memories of your tear-stained face is corrupting his ability to rationalize.

it’s 2:33am. he’s been playing the guitar infront of the camera for an hour and a half already. the comment section is flooded by sleep-deprived people like him, sending song requests and questions about his personal life. 

yes, he’s about to be in third year college. 

no, he doesn’t have a girlfriend. 

no, he can’t mention where he lives… but sure, he can sing ‘beautiful’ by crush. 

“what do you mean? i just finished playing it ten seconds ago!” he squints as he scrolls through the new wave of comments. “sorry, art commissions are still closed. i’m behind on my workload… no, i’m not sleepy! don’t send me to bed yet… knees by iu? i love that song. should i play that next?”

his phone vibrates with a new text message, nearly causing it to fall from the stack of books he set it up on. 

“oh- what was tha- what do i do? wait, everyone. i need to check on something!”

the live is temporarily put on pause. 

“who is this?”

his eyebrows knit in confusion when he is greeted by an unregistered phone number.

  2:45am

hi, jungkook. this is ____. i wanted to apologize for my behavior at the lobby earlier. i understand you were only concerned. i’m so sorry. i’d love to buy you coffee some time to make it up to you, if that’s ok. 

this is real, right? he’s awake. he’s not hallucinating. the text message indicates your name and it says that you’d love to buy him coffee some time. 

a gasp leaves his mouth, his hand flying up to seal his lips. 

you texted him. you finally texted him.

he was starting to get convinced that you also threw away his number, but you didn’t! 

he weakly sets down the phone, brain still processing the message you sent. does this make sense?

“i shouldn’t reply right away… maybe in the morning…” he nods to affirm myself. “that’s right.” 

he begins chuckling out of nowhere. soon enough, those chuckles become chortles. he must be going insane. he picks up the phone and reads the message again. 

“she sounds pretty even in chat. how is that possible?” he spins on his chair, so carefree. “but honestly, is one coffee enough for what she did?” 

he shakes his head with a click his tongue. 

“i don’t think so…”

hold on…

it feels like he’s forgetting something…

“ah, the live!” he jumps on his seat in panic. 

he swipes out of the text message to go back to the app where he abandoned his thousand viewers.

“sorry, i made money.” he mumbles to himself. “i should end it now.” 

—

his mood has done a 180. his routine consists of feeding the fishes dinner, and then himself, but he decided to skip the second part earlier for reasons that he has forgotten by now. 

his stomach growls at his selfish decision. 

given the time, he considered food delivery, but the fee made him exit the app immediately. he hasn’t gone to the grocery store as of recent either. the fridge has been wasting electricity, but his pride won’t let him turn it off. 

how did people live without convenience stores before? that is what jungkook marvels about as he crosses the long hallway to reach the elevator. 

a door ahead opens, and he would ignore it if not for one of the two people who comes out from the other side of it. 

there is a man in his late 20’s, and then there is… you. 

you are the deer and jungkook is the blinding headlights. 

—

the coffee you originally offered jungkook has turned into a full meal. when you arrived at the convenience store, he knew what he wanted right away. he grabbed the biggest cup of ramyeon and tteokbokki, an egg, sausage, and cheese. he refused to let you pay for them at first, but there was nothing left to do after you handed the cashier the money. 

the action was done out of obligation rather than will, but seeing how much he’s enjoying the food, you’re a little less displeased with the circumstances. 

“is that all you’re eating? we can share mine.” 

“it’s okay. i’m not that hungry.” 

with the money you had left, you were able to afford a roll of gimbap. maybe it’s not enough to make you full, but it’s enough to satiate your hunger. you slowly chew the food in your mouth, an effort to hide your smile as you discretely observe jungkook devour his rabokki. 

“the man from earlier, is he your brother?”

your chewing is put on pause. “how did you know?” 

“how? it’s easy!” 

he cheekily points at his nose using his chopsticks. 

“you have the exact same nose.” 

“ugh,” you grimace. “i’m tired of hearing that.” 

your list of similarities ends there. he’s the golden child and you’re the black sheep. if your parents find out that he comes to visit you and he sends you money, they’d only see you in worse light.

“i know,” jungkook scrunches his nose. “i have an older brother too.” 

cute. 

“so… why did you lie?”

he’s seriously asking you like this? so casually?

you awkwardly set down your food on the table and you take your time sipping at your coffee to buy yourself some time.

—

“i was embarrassed with what happened before… me crying at the boat and everything…”

you’re having a hard time looking at jungkook in the eye. sensing your discomfort, he wants to punch himself for being so careless with his tone. until moments before, he felt too offended to consider the fact that you never owed him an explanation. 

“you don’t have to be. it’s okay.” he reassures you. “we all have bad days.”

it doesn’t work the way that he thought it would. when you start laughing, he is lost. 

“did i say something funny?” he chuckles along nervously. 

“that quote, ‘it’s just a bad day, not a bad life.’” 

“yeah?” 

“it’s the opposite for me. it’s not just a bad day; it’s a bad life.”  

you speak with such endearing humor and it works like a charm in making the atmosphere lighter. he’d pass it off as a self-deprecating joke, but based on your few yet impactful encounters so far, he doesn’t think you’re stretching the truth far. if he’s being honest, if your first meeting happened differently, he’d assume that you’re living a perfectly comfortable life based on your appearance alone.

“even now, i’m too embarrassed to show my face to you. but we’re neighbors, so i’ll try to get over it.”

“tell you what, let’s start with a clean slate.” he eagerly makes a proposal. “you can erase all the embarrassing memories of you from my brain.”

“h-how do i do that?” 

“flick my forehead!”

you blink, eyes darting around as you try to make sense of what he said. “i was expecting some sort of stupid hypnosis.”

“or that,” he switches up, slapping the table as if you just came up with something revolutionary. 

why did he say flick his forehead anyway? he knows you gotta have an overwhelming amount of pent-up emotions. you could go deku on him and blow his head off. 

“let’s do that!”

“no, i like it.” you almost interrupt him. “i’ll flick your forehead.” 

but he did suggest it… and you act so gentle and sophisticated. he doubts that you would make it hurt. 

“here i go!”

he gets his bangs out of the way. “okay!”

he squeezes his eyes shut, bracing himself for impact. “please have mercy.” 

son of a bitch. that hurt. 

“ow!” he rubs the affected area, face twisting in pain. his eyes flicker to you in disbelief. “you didn’t hold back, huh?!” 

you smile at him sweetly. “did it work?”

  —

“you fed them, right?”

“of course i did. you?”

“yes, this morning.”

“okay, that’s good.”

you and jungkook sit in silence after that, eyes twinkling with wonder as they follow the stunning movements of the goldfishes. 

deep inside, he’s feeling restless. you make him nervous, and he’s also nervous about you noticing that he’s nervous. it’s been a tireless cycle. 

he sneaks a glance at you.

perhaps he’s overthinking again. it seems like you don’t even care that he’s less than an arm’s length from you. 

he doesn’t know whether to be relieved or annoyed. 

he sighs without a sound, comfortably leaning all of his weight on the couch. 

“it’s called the dreamboat.”

“what is?” 

the boat you cried in— can’t say that. you might flick his forehead again. 

“at the amusement park.” 

“oh…”

it falls silent. 

jungkook is thankful when you have a follow-up question because he hasn’t thought of a new topic yet. 

“i wonder why they called it that.”

“oh, because the owner’s daughter loves boats!” he shares one of the few fun facts he learned over the past year. “that’s why it was designed like it came from a fairy tale too.” 

a mirthful smile forms on your face “my guess was too far off.” 

“what was it?” 

“mhmm,” you hum, folding your arms over your chest. “dreamboat is a word used to describe a handsome man, right?”

jungkook nods his head like he knew that all along. no, he didn’t. 

“so i imagined the owner met their handsome partner on a boat- no, or a ship,” the epiphany hits you in the middle of your sentence. “they have to be rich since they built an amusement park.”

a romantic. you imagined a love story based on a word alone. jungkook’s teeth dig into his lower lip as he tries to tame his wide grin. 

“that does sound like a good theory.” he casually bends over, resting his elbows over his spread thighs. “i think i like it better than the truth.”

“how did you know that though? the truth?”

he shrugs. “i work there.”

“you work there?” your voice goes up a pitch. “i didn’t know…”

“you? do you study or work?”

“call center,” you answer to get it over with. to his surprise, your body language shifts and you’re now facing him. “what’s it like working there? is it fun?” 

apparently, a job at the amusement park is now joining his very short list of your interests: after motorbikes, smoking, and fishes.

“it has good days and bad days…” he trails off. he hasn’t truly given this much thought, so he’s also learning about himself. “but i didn’t expect it to be as fun as it is. sometimes it’s boring, but when it’s fun, it’s really fun.”

you scoot closer. “do you get to ride for free?”

ah, yes, the deciding factor when he was offered the job. 

“there’s an employee discount, actually! but i do it for free anyway…” he shyly scratches his head. “don’t tell anyone i said that.” 

“i don’t have anyone to tell.” 

his heart skips a beat when he hears your laugh genuinely for the first time. quiet and delicate and airy— you grace this blue summer night like a spring breeze that takes away with it everything that burdens your mind and heart. 

once again, the aquarium becomes the most interesting collection of atoms in the building. as for him, he is still unable to keep his eyes off you. 

“did you have a pet fish growing up? you really like them a lot.”

“no,” you reply. “i didn’t care about them until now.”

“really?” his eyes grow wide. “wow, i seriously thought you were a marine life enthusiast, or something like that.” 

you give him a look. “i thought you were a marine life enthusiast.”

“we were both wrong.” he shrugs. “but what made you care about them so much now?”

“i don’t know. i just thought of something when i was looking at them.” 

he feels your hesitance to continue. your eyes connect briefly and he communicates that he’s listening with an open mind.

“they’re different from other pets, you know, like cats and dogs. they can’t make a sound when they’re in pain.” 

in the dark room, he sees the melancholy seeping from the cracked edges of you. although you act relaxed, your spoken thoughts paint the picture of a person whose sensitivity and sympathy touch upon everything. 

“there should at least be somebody who cares enough to check up on them and make sure that they’re alive and well.” 

“…and you wanted to be that somebody for them.” he concludes with a hushed voice, more to himself than you. 

“but it turns out they have you already.”

“it’s not just me now.”

he mirrors your soft smile. it’s nice to see your frown turned upside down for a change. what was weighing down on him has become lighter, and he hopes it’s the same for you.

“the sun is about to rise.” you announce after a peek at the grandfather clock. “we should go home.”

jungkook isn’t a big fan of comfortable silence, but he can get used to it. he maintains a respectable distance from you in the elevator, engaging himself with the ascending number of floors on the screen. when the door opens, you’re the first to step out and he follows suit. 

your destination isn’t far. you pause in front of unit 1303.

“uhm, this is me.” 

yup, the same door he saw you come out of. 

“i’m not far, just at the end of the hall. 1311, if you ever need anything.”

your eyes trace the direction of where he’s pointing before you nod in understanding. with a hand gripping the door handle, you offer him one final smile.

“goodnight, jungkook.”

—

if others cheese over good morning texts first thing after opening their eyes, then jungkook’s case is one of a kind. 

he rolls over to his side, puffy eyes from sleep forming thinner crescent moons as he zooms in on your reflection on the glass. 

  10:08am

[attached image]

they’re happy and fed :)

10:10am

[attached image]

babies are getting bigger

this is how his mornings have been going for the past two weeks. he wakes up and he checks his phone for fish breakfast updates from you. in return, he sends fish dinner updates to you at night. he was the first one to send you a picture following the night you awkwardly bumped into each other. he didn’t want to wait around anymore.

were his palms sweaty? did he throw his phone on the bed after? 

no longer relevant. 

he now knows that your favorite color is blue and you have wednesdays and fridays off for the next month. that’s pretty cool. 

another thing he’s taken notice of is that you don’t use emojis or emoticons aside from the smiley face. 

although, there was once a miracle.

he scrolls up until he reaches your conversation from four days ago.

  11:59pm

LOL i’m actually allergic to seafood ㅜㅜ

😭😭😭

“ah, i’m annoyed!” he kicks his feet; half of the blanket falls to the floor. “she’s so cute!” 

things are indeed going great, greater than he imagined, but if he has to complain, he wishes he could see you in person more. he’s at work when you’re home and vice versa, so you don’t cross paths despite living on the same apartment floor. that 3am encounter was a rare phenomenon, it turns out. he chanced upon you a few times while running to work and you were feeding the fishes breakfast, but those conversations were barely conversations. 

‘i just thought of something when i was looking at them… they can’t make a sound when they’re in pain.’

he hasn’t stopped thinking about that. 

—

“when are you asking her out on a date?”

taehyung is on a mission to tease him for life even from daegu. he’s only thankful that his best friend isn’t video calling him from the toilet again because he’s currently having his lunch. 

“i don’t know.” he grouches. “it doesn’t feel like the right time. i don’t want to scare her off.” 

“when’s that ‘right time’?” 

“i’ll figure it out…” he sighs, setting down the half-eaten sandwich on the table. “how do i say it…? i feel like- hm, she’s no- she’s not in the best emotional state right now.” 

“so you admit it,” taehyung raises an eyebrow, smirking. “she has issues.”

that didn’t sit right with jungkook at all. he feels obligated to defend your honor. 

“hey, stop being rude. you haven’t even met her yet.” 

“come on, bro! i’m only looking out for you.” 

the atmosphere shifts into a more serious tone.

“i don’t want you to get hurt trying to fix another person again. it was hard to watch.”

he moved on and learned his lesson— he wants to spit out as a rebuttal, but his best friend gave him much to think about. would it make sense to say that he’s moved on but he hasn’t healed? 

“i know,” is what he ends up saying absentmindedly, distracted by thoughts that he isn’t keen on sharing. 

and as if he’s been slapped back into reality, he fixes his posture and picks up his sandwich. “so, what’s up? have you even slept yet?”

“no,” taehyung responds nonchalantly. between the two of them, he absolutely has the more fucked up sleeping schedule. “i’ve been awake since 12am.”

“didn’t you say you’d spend the entire vacation sleeping?”

“this vacation was a trap.”

the camera darts to the abandoned mop on the floor.

“my mom makes me do all the chores everyday. this is worse than my actual job!” 

a devilish grin is drawn on jungkook’s face. ah, the grass is always greener on the other side.

  

—

“mondays stay to be a pain in the ass.”

does it look like he’s exhausted and dirty from chasing around children all day? jungkook is stressed as he checks himself out on his front camera. he’s walking home from the bus stop after clocking out of work. 

the street is mostly quiet, until a roaring engine approaches and he cringes at the raucous sound assaulting his eardrums. he’s already at the sidewalk for his safety and in accordance with the law, but he feels compelled to stay further back and wait for the vehicle to pass by. 

seconds later, a black harley races past.

jungkook is dumbfounded as he tries to piece the puzzle together. 

the lights are bright, and your pink hair blowing with the wind is even brighter. 

“w-was that…?”

—

he was going to bring it up over text last night, but he decided to reserve it for physical conversation because he wants to see your face light up again. 

you’re so fucking cool. 

he’s both amazed and envious. 

also, he’s pretty damn sure that you’re rich. he doesn’t understand why you’re living in this place and enduring the graveyard shift at the call center. 

a foolish smile is permanently plastered on his face as he sketches a commissioned digital portrait. he really should focus, or else he might end up drawing you instead of his client. 

he spins on his chair, pushing the wheels towards the bed, where he comfortably extends his feet over. almost missed it. the power has been out for an hour and he doesn’t expect it to come back until dawn. he was pissed about this being a normal occurrence during the first year of his stay here, but he’s gotten quite used to it. invested in a powerbank that almost looks like it can charge a car’s battery and he’s all set. 

the aggressive pounding at the door drowns out the pop ballad he’s listening to.

“what? who could it be at this hour?” 

he pauses the song, turning up the brightness of his ipad to use it as a makeshift flashlight. 

the last person he expected to appear at his door says the last thing he expected them to say. 

“jungkook, i think there’s a ghost in my apartment.”

—

jungkook sets down a hot cup of tea infront of you. in his mind, he thanks himself for keeping everything his mom sends him, even the things he do not like. 

“thanks,” you mumble, picking it up by the handle. 

he patiently sits on the other side of the table for two, giving you the time to calm yourself down from the horror that you witnessed. he has his emergency light propped up on the kitchen counter. he was saving it for when he finds himself in a grave situation, like a total blackout or an apocalypse. he didn’t imagine he’d end up using it for an unusual night like this. 

“are you feeling better?” he asks worriedly.

you nod. “yeah, i just don’t want to be alone right now.” 

“i’m here. you can stay until whenever you want.”

“thank you.”

you sigh with your eyes closed. you look like life has been drained out of you. 

“i’m really scared, jungkook.”

“are you sure about what you saw? i mean, it’s dark. your mind could’ve been playing tricks on you.”

“i saw him. i really him saw him!” you frantically defend yourself. “i was washing my hands then i turned around and i saw him, sitting at the edge of my bed! he looked at me!” 

his heart drops to his stomach when your chin begins to wobble and he sees your eyes glistening with unshed tears. 

“and his skin was burnt off, jungkook.” you enunciate the words to emphasize the severity of what you experienced. “it’s so horrifying, i had to run.” 

“hey hey hey- it’s okay. i believe you.” he squeezes your cold, trembling hands. “you’re safe now. it’s only us here. no spirits- i promise.” 

he’s losing his mind a little bit. he’s holding the hands of the girl he likes and her pinky is wrapped around his. you’ve been putting him through a rollercoaster that, for once, he is terrified of. he wants to bask in this moment… but the specific detail you revealed is bothering him.

“and you said… he was burnt?” 

“yeah, why?”

he presses his lips in a thin line, shaking his head. “no, it’s nothing.”

“there’s something.” you stop crying. “i see it on your face.”

“i swear, it's nothing!”

“you’re lying!” you accuse him. “what is it?”

“forget it, ____.”

“jungkook,” you say his name sternly. “tell me.”

shit, he’s done for. you can’t do this to him when he’s trying to protect you.

he swallows nervously. “but i don’t want to scare you.” 

“i saw a ghost. what else can scare me?”

“the truth is…” he pauses, still weighed down by hesitance. but he realizes he has reached the point of no return. also, you’re squeezing his hands a little too tight. “this building had to be restored. it burned down a decade ago. people suspect there was foul play, but the firemen said it was faulty wiring.” 

he’s the one telling the story, but he also feels chills run down his spine. 

“oh… so you’re saying…”

“i… believe so?” he winces with a mix of guilt and fear. “but it’s the first time i’m hearing of a ghost story here. i haven’t had any encounter either.” 

“i need to move.” you declare, not an ounce of humor in your voice. 

“don’t!” he protests. 

perhaps a little too passionately. could he be any more obvious? 

“what do you mean? you need to leave too!”

“i can’t,” he fakes a pained expression. “who’s going to take care of the fishes?” 

that works like a charm. 

you untangle your hands and lean against the chair, transforming into a pensive state. 

if he wasn’t going to convince you to stay, the fishes would. 

“fuck,” you curse in a low whisper, sipping on your tea. 

—

“i’m not the spoiled brat you think i am.” you frown, dangling your feet from the bed. “i sleep on the floor too.” 

“i’d be rude if i let you do that.” jungkook insists as he fluffs his pillow. “i’m comfortable right here. i’m used to it.” 

he was relieved that you weren’t stubborn enough to go back to your place and force yourself to sleep there. after seeing how terrified you were, it would’ve been impossible for him to close his eyes and shut down his brain from worrying. he hasn’t seen a ghost, but they have to be real. he likes to believe that we do not cease to exist and we have some place to go when we die. however, that does co-exist with being alarmed by a ghost of a burnt body sitting on your bed. he isn’t going to let you go back in there tonight. no way.

“you should get some rest. just tell me if you need anything, okay?”

“thank you, jungkook.” 

“it’s no problem!”

his name sounds so sweet when it comes from your lips. he can’t help but to feel giddy every time he hears it. 

you lie down on the bed, facing the portable fan strategically set up on jungkook’s gaming chair. on the other hand, the emergency light is at the nightstand, acting as a night lamp. 

he checks the time on his ipad: 1:48am. his battery percentage: 55%. he’s not yet sleepy, so he decides to continue working until he gets the low battery warning for 20%. 

sitting down without back support becomes too uncomfortable after a while, especially when drawing. he doesn’t realize it when he changes positions, too focused on drawing the intricate floral patterns on the client’s blouse. 

“is that your girlfriend?” 

jungkook turns his head towards the voice and your face is only inches away from his. the word stops for a moment.

“is she okay with me sleeping here?” 

he scoots a little further away to grant his racing heart some mercy. “u-uhmm, no.”

“no…?” you repeat slowly, sounding concerned.

“no, as in she’s not my girlfriend!” he further elaborates in distress. “i don’t have a girlfriend.”

“okay, cool. you scared me.” you huff out a chuckle. “i don’t like being the girl who causes problems.” 

“no, you’re safe.” he manages to also laugh. “no one’s coming to pull your hair.”

“then who is she?” you point at the screen with your pouted lips, particularly the reference photo that’s been burnt to his memory. 

“a client. people pay me to draw them.”

“oh, so she’s one of your french girls?” you crack a humorous remark.

the reference catches him off guard, even though he should’ve totally seen it coming.

he squints. “mhmmm, i guess? kind of like that… except they’re not, you know, naked.”

“i see,” you hum in interest. “you don’t like doing nude drawings?” 

“honestly? i don’t know. i’ve never done it before.” 

“no one’s asked you?”

he shakes his head. “no one,”

“would you do mine if i ask you to?” 

he secretly pinches his thigh to prove that he’s not dreaming. 

what the fuck?

did he hear you right? 

it sounded like such a genuine and casual question in the name of art, but the worst thing he could do while his crush is sleeping over is to imagine her naked. he feels the warmth spread across his cheeks, possibly reaching his ears. 

“hey, breathe!” you giggle with a push of his shoulder. “you don’t have to answer that. sorry if it made you uncomfortable.”

“sorry, i was just surprised.” 

he forces himself to laugh and act like the question isn’t putting him through a crisis in so many levels. 

“i’ll let you finish your work.” you smile at him, pulling up the blanket. 

please do and stop shaking up my heart. 

“goodnight.” 

“goodnight, ____.” 

—

jungkook is still flustered by the conversation. since you opened up the topic, he did give it some serious thought. he thinks he wouldn’t mind if someone asked him to do it. he makes all of his negotiations and transactions online so everyone so far have been a stranger. as for the people he personally know, unless it’s his significant other, wouldn’t it be awkward? 

anyway, the chances of it happening are low. stressing over it is pointless.

he needs to finish this commission and move on to the next, or else he’d be encumbered by the pile of deadlines. he’s making the most out of this vacation so he can save more money and work won’t have to interfere so often with his studies. 

sometimes he doesn’t understand why he works so hard either. his family isn’t struggling financially. in fact, he’s studying to take over their businesses. his parents have been nothing but kind and supportive, but he is never compelled to ask them for money. he feels this strong and all-consuming need to prove himself as capable and independent. nothing compares to the gratification of buying his wants and needs with the money he sacrificed his blood, sweat, and tears for. he can’t stop himself.

“i can’t sleep…” a quiet murmur reaches his ears. “may i watch you draw?” 

oh, he thought you’ve fallen asleep twenty minutes ago. 

“of course,” 

he is more than happy to move closer to give you a good view of his progress. 

if there’s one thing he isn’t ashamed to boast about— it’s this. 

it’s silent except for your breathing and the taps of his pen on the screen. he’s a tad self-conscious with the presence of engrossed eyes, but he would describe the atmosphere as peaceful. 

“you’re such a great artist.” you whisper in awe. 

jungkook can’t recall the last time he felt this simple yet profound type of joy. 

—

true to your words, you did move as morning came. 

jungkook wakes up to an empty bed and a commotion outside. 

“____?” 

he knocks on the bathroom door, not expecting it to swing open from the action. he takes his chances and peeks inside with another call of your name, but you’re still nowhere to be seen. 

did you really leave without saying goodbye? 

he sighs in disappointment. he was planning on buying you breakfast, too. he knew it. he should’ve made the invitation last night. 

a series of loud thumps prompts him to scratch his head in irritation. he’s tired and sleep-deprived and he didn’t see his crush’s face first thing in the morning. the day has barely started and it’s already a bad one.

he opens the door with a considerable force, mouth running before his eyes could perceive his surroundings. 

“could you guys turn it down? people are still slee-”

“jungkook! you’re awake.” 

you jog over to him with a more cheery expression than last night’s. there’s no windows but the sun is shining over his face.

“sorry about the noise. i’m moving to a new unit.”

he can see that, but his brain remains in a muddled state. how did you make the arrangements overnight? he gapes at the men hauling your things to your new apartment.

“1309?” he exclaims.

“yeah,” you shyly reply. “it’s the only vacant one left.” 

almost but not quite. does he have the right to complain? you’d be one door away. 

he’s fucking ecstatic. 

if he just sets aside the fact that it took a ghastly ghost encounter for the stars to align. 

the wrinkles on his forehead disappear and become crinkles by his eyes, accompanied by an excited beam. 

“should we feed them together then grab breakfast after?” 

—

time passes by too fast for jungkook’s liking. summer vacation ended a month ago and he’s back to busting his ass off at the university. he misses the days and nights when the only thing he was going insane about is you. 

what’s taking you so long to reply? did he say something stupid? does he look nice? smell nice? are you crying again? that ghost isn’t bothering you again, is he? 

now that he needs to focus on something less interesting, say studying taxation and business law for subsequent long quizzes tomorrow, he’s back to crushing cans of energy drinks. 

fuck, he misses you. 

your purple hair tie is still wrapped around the knob of his bathroom sink faucet and he keeps forgetting to give it back to you. you make him nervous but he forgets he ever felt that way after five minutes with you. he craves to be connected with you on a more intimate level. he wants to be more than just a neighbor you make small talk with, over text. he wants to be more than a friend you sometimes eat with, on your days off. but he likes you so much that he can be content with the way things are, so long as it means you won’t go further away. 

he’s absolutely pumped to hear his friends berate him for being stupid enough to enjoy the bare minimum from a woman. 

an email notification interrupts his intense cramming session with his ipad and his illegally downloaded ebooks.

No Name

Subject: IMPORTANT! READ ME! 

snack break at the aquarium? 

he already has a strong inkling on who the sender could be; he clicks the email address and unsurprisingly, it says that it’s you. 

did you seriously go out of your way to email him because he told you that he was going to keep his phone turned off while studying? 

ridiculous. 

so cute and ridiculous. 

—

“i brought your favorite.” you meekly present your gift to jungkook. “uh, actually i’m not sure if it’s your favorite. but it’s become mine since you gave it to me.”

jungkook gapes at the bag of his favorite gummies sitting on his lap. just for comparison, the packet he gave you that day you first met came from his pocket. this one is almost as wide as his thighs slightly spread apart. 

but most importantly, what did you just say?

“y-you didn’t throw it away?”

“what are you saying?” you pout, a little hurt by the question. “why would i throw it away?”

“you should’ve. you can’t just accept food from strangers!” 

he was being pretty before. he humbly admits that. he just wanted an excuse to bring you up so he whined about it for weeks, but he was never genuinely upset. not specifically about that, anyway.

“why are you so upset?” you match the rise of his voice. “i’m fine and we ended up being friends. now say ‘thank you’ and open it!”

“ah, sure-” he panics, fumbling with the zigzag edges of the packaging. you were kind of hot for that. “thank you! this was seriously so thoughtful of you.” 

you nod in satisfaction, stealing a gummy worm the second that the plastic is torn open. “you’re welcome!”

—

  “i should stop eating.” jungkook mumbles to himself, chewing the other half of his nth gummy worm of the night. 

“yeah,” you agree, pulling your hand away from the bag with an impressive show of restraint. “we should.”

the two of you probably look bizarre in the eyes of strangers, particularly those who have seen you one too many nights admire the golden creatures like you’re being hypnotized and nothing else in the world matters. jungkook never knows what’s running in your head, but to him, these moments are all about being beside you. the loud beating of his heart could be attributed to the caffeine, or the bare skin of your knees touching and no one daring to move. 

“the tank feels…” there is a delay as you search for the appropriate word. “dull. can’t there be more variety of plants?” 

“i tried,” he laughs at the funny memory you evoked. “when i came back the next day, two of them already ate everything.”  

you gasp. “everything? is that normal?” 

he opens his mouth to speak, but you unknowingly interrupt him with a raise of your hand.

“okay, i’m searching on naver.” 

jungkook behaves for the fifteen minutes that follow, sneaking a peek at your phone screen every now and then with squinted eyes. you read fast, and your knees shake when you have to think hard. they’re small things. they don’t matter that much. but they’re still parts of your entirety which he is to be well-aquainted with. 

“according to this person, we can try giving them marimo moss balls to play with… and hmmm-” you hum, lips puckering into a pout. “then for plants, anubias and java ferns?” 

“i still know the address of the place i bought the plants from before. we can go when you’re free.” he offers, jumping on the opportunity to spend time with you outside of this building. 

“you free sunday?” 

“is the afternoon alright? i have to go to uni in the morning.” 

please say yes.

“sure, that works.”

he breaks into a triumphant smile. 

yes! 

—

jungkook has been looking forward to this day all week. he breezed through work and college, motivated to finish all his tasks so he could enjoy his time with you without any worries. he knows it’s not a date, but anyone can be excited to meet up with a friend.

“you look pretty.” he smiles, breaking the silence in the elevator. 

“you can barely see my face.” 

“i see it!”

your nonchalance slowly fades, seemingly replaced by unease, which confuses jungkook. you put on a white face mask from the pocket of your hoodie before facing him. 

“now you don’t!” you banter with him playfully. 

“too late,” he sticks his tongue out. “i can draw it from memory.” 

this is your usual day outfit, a basic classic. a hoodie paired with shorts and sneakers. the face mask is part of it too. in a crowd, you could be anyone, even him, if only your hair doesn’t stand out among the neutrals. he likes it. he likes how you match outfits without trying to. you get more dressed up at night, which makes sense since you go to work. 

“so you can draw me even if i flash you just once?” 

scandalized, he almost chokes on his own spit. “____!”

“i’m joking!” you giggle.

“no, please do it.” he encourages you in jest.

that earns him a slap on the face. he touches the affected area. it didn’t hurt at all, you did it with a light hand, but he gapes at you dumbstruck. 

“you can joke about it but i can’t?!” 

you only laugh at his reaction. he also imagines that he looks funny. not long after, the elevator opens and you drag him out by his hand.

—

the cashier pushes back your extended hand. “sorry, we don’t accept card payments.” 

while you pout sadly at the rejection, jungkook rushes to grab the wallet that you made him hide because this was your ‘idea.’ 

“here,” he puts down the paper bills on the counter.

“i’ll pay you back.” 

“no, it’s fine. my treat for the fishes since they’d probably eat them anyway.” he jokes to comfort you.

“yeah, okay,” you respond listlessly. “then i’ll buy our dinner. samgyupsal?”

“call!” 

jungkook guesses you have come to know him well too. 

“okay, let’s go.”

he invites you to leave after the cashier gives him the paper bag. as you walk out together, your shoulders brush, and for a brief moment, he assumes that you would cling to him. he doesn’t know why he keeps doing that. you never do. he continues walking and he doesn’t even notice that he has left you behind.

the door is half-open and he’s stood in place, eyes scanning the store like he just lost a child at the mall. 

of course, he finds you hunched over infront of an aquarium inhabited by a betta fish. 

“do you want to get it?” he whispers, mindful of scaring away the little creature. “i don’t think i’ve seen a purple fish before.”

not even in art or television. it’s strange. 

he feels your eyes glued to him. persuaded by curiosity, he turns his cheek. 

his breathing stops when he sees your face so close. 

he doesn’t know you removed your mask. you’re staring at him so intensely with those beautiful  eyes, sparkling with the reflections of light. you’re dazzling, and intimidating, and it’s doing dangerous things to his heart.

a little nudge and he’d give you an eskimo kiss. 

if there’s a perfect romantic moment to kiss your lips, he’d say it’s right now. 

“it’s not the fish i want.” 

he doesn’t hear you. 

do you see how entranced he is by your lips? 

“the shipwreck, it’s beautiful.”

his eyes chase the sight of them when you return your gaze to the aquarium. 

“like you,” the words slip out without thought.

—

a soft smile tugs at the corner of your lips. you blink away the tears and you stomach the heavy in your chest. you know jungkook is still staring at you with those bedroom eyes and there was no deep thought behind his compliment. will he still find you beautiful when he sees who you are beyond the surface? 

“like me…”

— 

after dinner, you and jungkook planted the plants and installed the shipwreck you wanted. it was not cheap, but it was worth it, if it meant seeing your priceless joy. he carries around more cash than necessary when he goes out with you. he’s praying that you didn’t see his sigh of relief when the waiter said the restaurant accepts card. he doesn’t know much about your circumstances, why you stopped going to school and why you opted to work instead, but he knows you lead a lifestyle different from his. he’s not ignorant. he estimates your bag is five times more expensive than his ipad. but with how you’re soundly sleeping on his shoulder, he can say that it’s justified. 

he learns that you’ve been working straight for fifteen days, with 10-20 hours of overtime per week. you practically live there. he can feel the weight of your shoulders on him, which is why he doesn’t have the heart to wake you up despite his bladder’s need of the bathroom. this is probably the closest he will ever be to you. he can’t be the one to walk away in this memory. 

the humming noise of the aquarium’s filter fills the silence.

it always feels like he’s dreaming when he’s with you.

“after all that money we spent, we should really name them now.” 

you release the yawn you were holding back while speaking, head dropping on his shoulder. jungkook stiffens at the suddenness of the physical contact, but then relaxes thanks to the tranquilizing scent of your shampoo— it has to be coconut, with some sort of flowers that perfectly compliment it.  

“have any ideas?”

“yes,” he hears the smile in your voice. “you know those two who have similar hues?”

he hums, body vibrating underneath your soft cheek.

“tangerine, and then clementine for the smaller one.” 

“those are cute names.”

“you like them?”

“yes, they really sound like siblings!”

“okay, i won.” you shrug your shoulders as far as they can go, as if you’re so pleased you could burst. “that’s settled. your turn!”

“hmmm…” 

he unconsciously bounces his knee as he racks his brain, which you swat with a disapproving noise, mumbling “making me dizzy!”

“sorry,” he winces.

your giggles are infectious, bringing tickles somewhere deep inside of him, butterflies in his stomach coming alive like spring only arrived. 

“shouldn’t we at least have one named after a flower?” he suggests. “hold on, i’ll search for good ones.”

“let’s give the flower name to the yellow one. she stands out, like a flower.”

you blink wearily, a soft smile amidst the haze, sent to the yellow fish who swam closer as if it heard itself being called. 

he reads the list of yellow flower names out loud.  

“sunflower, daisy, azalea… for-forthysia? lily, cosmos, dahlia-”

“dahlia-” you quietly repeat the name in awe, clinging to his arm to steal his attention.

“dahlia it is!” 

“i wish dahlia would live forever.” you sigh, haunted by the inevitable. 

“dahlia will outlive us.” he chuckles. 

“i’ll protect her from the afterlife.”

he squeezes your hand tenderly. “i’ll be right there with you.” 

and with unspoken mutual understanding, your fingers intertwine. neither one of you wants to let go, he feels it strongly and he is sure of it. his cheeks may very well begin to ache with how elated he is. 

“that’s three… you know, i saw someone on youtube who named their fish coral. i thought it was a very pretty name. how about that?”

“i like it,” you chirp. “i kind of wish it was my name.” 

“should i just give it to you?”

you lift your head a little, sleepy eyes connecting with his. “do you know someone who has the same name as me?”

“no,” he slowly shakes his head. “you’re the only one.” 

“let’s give it to the one with the longest tail.” 

your head drops on his shoulder, as if it’s where it belongs. 

“i like being the only one.”

you fell asleep seconds after that.

he found entertainment in watching as much as the goldfishes playing around with the shipwreck. it’s a wooden ship split in two, with cracks and holes big enough for them to swim in and out of. even the sails have holes. the drawings on them are unrecognizable beyond his imagination. 

it’s quite charming, but he doesn’t understand what’s special about it the way you do. 

a teardrop drips from the tip of your nose and crashes on his arm, but he doesn’t feel it. 

eventually, it dries, and is erased from history. 

[eden031]

First meetings

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8

Pairing: Jack Abbot x intern!f!reader

Warnings: fluff, kissing, everyone at the Pitt being nosy bitches

Summary: A slow evening is turned into pure chaos when they come to the Pitt

A/N: The next part is finally here! I am so sorry for taking so long writing this, but I kind of got kicked in the butt by uni and needed to make sure I didn‘t fall behind in the first two weeks :), I hope you enjoy this chapter. The next chapter will be the last chapter of this story, though there will be more Jack Abbot coming your way in the near future, but also some more Robby content. Please be patient with the updates! The second part of ‚Sweet boy‘ is still in the works, another Jack Abbot fic that is going to be a lot more angsty is also in the making, as well as two more Robby works. Lots of love <3

The blaring of an alarm woke her from the best sleep she had probably had in years. A soft goran escaped her as she stirred, a warm hand resting on her stomach, shoved under the hoodie. The warm breath of Jack tickled her neck. It was like she was still dreaming, but she knew it was reality, the warm hand on her stomach, the feeling of someone pressed up behind her was real. The hand stirred slightly as the blaring continued, Jack hummed softly, nuzzling his face into her neck.

The fuzzy blanket of content she had felt before when she was around him settled over her mind, like it was just right for her to be laying there with him. His scent enveloping her, the unscented soap, the smell of his shampoo that also clung to her hair, that warm and earthy tone she was not sure what it was, but she loved it so much. She wanted to stay like this forever, to wake up like this every single morning.

“Can you please turn off that alarm,” she groaned softly, her peace disturbed by the blaring that didn’t seem to stop. A low groan from Jack followed as he turned slightly, his hand leaving her stomach, a small disapproving grumble came from her, though a clack followed and the alarm was turned off. A relieved sigh escaped her. Jack’s hand settled on her stomach again, gently stroking the skin, drawing small patterns on it

“What time is it?” she hummed as she snuggled into the blanket further, pulling it tighter against her chin as she buried her nose in the pillow, taking deep breaths, trying to keep the moment going forever.

“Half past five,” he hummed as she felt him nuzzle his face into her neck, placing a soft kiss there. Another groan escaped her, that meant they would have to start getting ready for the shift soon if they wanted to be on time. Tommy would probably be worried if she was late. Tommy probably had been worried when she didn’t show up to the apartment in the morning.

“Shit!” she was suddenly wide awake as she practically fell out of bed. This was bad, this was really bad. He and Maise probably freaked out when they firstly couldn’t reach her anymore and when she didn’t come back to the apartment.

“What is wrong?” Jack asked as he also rolled out of bed. Practically running out the room she headed towards her backpack, almost tearing it open she dug around for her phone, pulling it out she saw over sixty missed calls from Tommy, about the same amount from Masie and a bombardment of text messages. Groaning, she dropped the phone back into the backpack. Sitting down on her heels she put her face in her hands, feeling the stress ebb away as a mean thought crossed her mind, telling her that it served them right. Glancing over her shoulder she saw Jack leaning on the crutches in the doorway, his expression a mixture of worry, confusion and if she was not mistaken hurt. His curls a whole mess, all ruffled and tousled, squinting slightly as he looked at her, an imprint of something on his face, it looked like it could be the hood of the hoodie she was wearing.

“I didn’t text Tommy or Masie that I wouldn’t be coming back to the apartment.” she muttered as she remained seated on the ground, giving him an apologetic look. Jack just shrugged, a soft smile on his lips as he looked at her. The expression shifted to pure amusement as he nodded his head.

“Just call them now, but that's what they get from keeping you away from your bed,” he sounded amused, a huff came from her as she got up from her awkward position on the ground. Walking towards him she grinned as she stopped closely in front of him, her chest touching his as she tilted her head to the side.

“I think I actually need to thank them for that, don’t I?” she had to suppress a grin as Jack let out a small huff.

“I don’t think you should,” he titled his head in the same direction she had hers. Now their eyes met again and she saw that hunger in the hazel eyes again, they were blown wide as he looked at her.

“Yeah?” she leaned in, pressing a kiss to his lips, he pressed back, their mouths moving against each other in a perfect rhythm. It was more desperate this time, there was more urgency in the way they moved, the feeling of his tongue in her mouth, the way they moved together sending tingles straight down her spine and right to her core.

Jack let out a low groan as she nipped at his lower lip. Feeling his hands tense against the handles of the crutches she drew back slightly, her breath heavy, the feeling of his warmth close to her making her dizzy.

The spell over them was broken when her phone began buzzing in her backpack again. A low groan escaped her lips as she drew away from Jack. In his face she could see that if he was not dependent on the crutches at the moment he would have grabbed her and thrown her over his shoulder.

Quickly heading over to her backpack she fished out her phone and saw Tommy on the caller ID. Taking a steadying breath she picked up the phone, feeling like she might actually combust as Jack slowly made his way through the hallway, towards the kitchen, probably getting some coffee ready.

“Yeah,” she picked up her phone, still sounding a bit breathless as she spoke. Her eyes followed Jack, who had paused in the doorframe when she had picked up. His eyes wandering over to her, then slowly drifting back, a soft smile on his face as he fully moved into the kitchen.

“Thank fuck you picked up! We were worried sick” Tommy sighed, she could hear Masie sighing as well in the background. A soft laugh escaped her lips as she slowly got up from the kneeling position she had been in.

“Sorry, I kind of forgot my phone in the backpack when I fell asleep,” she muttered as she followed Jack into the kitchen, watching him sitting on one of the chairs while he was grinding down the coffee beans for the filter coffee. He looked up from what he was doing as she entered, giving her a small smile.

“So you are okay?” Tommy sounded guilty as he spoke softly, usually he would probably be joking about her falling asleep in the park, but she knew that it had happened far too often in the past few weeks for it to be okay. Tommy would tell her that he and Masie were in the middle of something and she would go and sit in the park until he called her. Usually she fell asleep on the bench and she thought that it was a small miracle that nothing had happened to her yet.

“Yes, I am fine. Someone let me crash at their place,” she explained, keeping it purposefully vague, she knew that that would get Tommy’s attention. Jack huffed as he gave her a small smirk, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he continued to grind the coffee. Giving him a mildly humorous glance she pulled out two mugs from the cabinet, setting them down beside the filter carafe.

“I am…” Tommy paused, he sounded like he was about to start crying, “I am sorry, we shouldn’t have…” he trailed off again, a soft laugh came from her. Glancing at Jack who gave her a warning glance she continued to talk.

“Apology accepted, Tommy,” she spoke softly,”Just let me know in advance if you an Maise want to have some time to yourselves,” she paused, giving Jack a small smirk as she continued to talk, “Then I can plan my sleepovers in advance and don’t have to do that spontaneously,”

Jack snorted slightly at the comment, though as she winked in his direction he smirked softly, tilting his head to the side. She could hear soft murmuring in the background of the other line, probably Tommy asking Masie something. There was a beat of silence then Tommy spoke again.

“Do you need me to pick you up before the shift or will you manage?” his voice sounded a lot more curious now, a lot more interested in what had occurred. Probably because Masie had pointed out to him that she would not have crashed on just a random person’s sofa and be in this good of a mood.

“I will manage. Thank you, Tommy. See you later,” she hung up before Tommy could say anything else. A quiet satisfaction grew in her stomach as she pushed her phone into the pocket of Jack’s sweatpants.

“Planning our sleepover, as in?” Jack asked as a small smirk grew on his lips. The corners of his eyes crinkling slightly, a fond expression on his face as he slightly beckoned her over to where he was sitting. Slowly walking over him she stepped between his legs again, the feeling of being this close to him while the soft scent of coffee filled the air was calming. He had finished grinding the coffee, placing the mill on the table as he looked up at her.

“Oh, you know…” she shrugged, a small smile on her lips, “Bringing some stuff with me, like a toothbrush and you know,” she grinned slightly. Jack reached out, placing one of his large hands on her waist, gently running his thumb over her stomach.

“What do you think about dinner?” he asked softly, his eyes gleaming in the yellow light of the kitchen, the hazel almost appearing golden while the sun shone through the windows, illuminating his face beautifully.

“Tonight?” she was slightly taken aback by the question. Jack sounded like he was not sure if she was real, like she might disappear any moment if he didn’t continue to hold on to her. The hold on her waist was tight, but not painful.

“No,” he shook his head slightly, a small smile on his lips as he tilted his head back to look at her better, “Saturday, I know you have your night off on Saturday nights, seven thirty, what do you think?” His voice was gravelly as he spoke softly.

“That sounds good,” she smiled at him, leaning down slightly she gently pressed her lips to his in a longer peck. Even if she wanted to do very different things now with Jack she also knew that they would be late for work. Jack gently pressed back, not moving, just staying in that position for a few moments, like they were meant to be like this. Carefully she drew back, feeling like all her breath had been robbed from her lungs as she smiled at him.

“Mind making the coffee?” he asked, his voice still slightly rough from sleep. Nodding softly she took the mill, turning around to walk towards the counter and make the coffee. Glancing over her shoulder she saw Jack still sitting in the same spot, his eyes fixed on her.

“Are you checking out my ass?” she asked, a humorous tone in her voice as she started heating up the water in the kettle sitting on the counter.

“Always,” Jack mumbled, a low hum of what sounded like appreciation came from him as she laughed, shaking her head slightly. A comfortable silence settled between them while she started brewing the coffee. In between every pour she did other little things, getting out the plates, something Jack protested, though she had insisted that she wanted to do this, that she did not feel obligated to do this for him. For her it was a comfort, a kind of way to show him that she cared, to show him that he mattered to her, just like the granola bar had been.

“Here you go,” she said softly as she placed the plate with toast with cheese and cucumber and some scrambled tofu with tomatoes in front of him along with a cup of steaming hot black coffee. As she was about to draw her hand away completely Jack caught it with his, gently pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles.

“Thank you,” he spoke in a low tone. Her heart fluttered slightly as she squeezed his hand gently.

“Of course,” she was hesitant, but leaned forward, pressing a kiss to the top of his head, smelling his shampoo in the salt and pepper curls. Slowly drawing back she went to get her own dinner, sitting down across from him she gave him a small smile as he took a bite of the scrambled tofu. His eyes fluttered closed as a soft moan escaped his lips.

“I will never get how you get it to taste like eggs,” he hummed softly as he continued to eat the food she had made for them. Laughing softly she gently nudged his foot with her’s, a soft smile came to his lips.

“What?” he tilted his head to the side, eyes solely focused on her as she studied him. The lines around his face were as evident as always, set deep with worry and the weight of everything that had ever happened to him, of everything he had seen and done. Though there was more to it now, there had been more to it for a while, she knew as much. There was this soft fondness that had grown into something bigger with each passing day, with every shift they spent together.

“I just wanted to tell you that your little snores are really cute,” she teased softly as she grinned at him over the rim of the mug. Jack let out a snort as he gave her one of those disapproving looks he was so good at.

“I don’t snore,” he spoke so confidently that it made her want to laugh at him. He did snore, it was not loud nor was it often, but from time to time during the night he would let out one of those cute little snores, the kind someone would expect from a cat.

“You do snore,” she grinned into the mug as Jack huffed again, like he was deeply offended by the statement. As she looked at him over the rim of the mug she could see his eyes fixed on her, the hazel gleaming with adoration as he slowly ate the food she had made for him.

Breakfast and getting ready for their shift had been a quick affair. Both of them had changed into their work clothes, Jack had put everything in the dryer overnight and she could change into a pair of clean scrubs. The second pair that had been drenched now found its way into the now also dry backpack while she packed everything. Jack had insisted on her taking the hoodie she had been wearing during the night, the temperatures had dropped a good bit due to the rain and he had been persistent that her jacket was not thick enough along with her scrubs and undershirt.

The walk to the hospital had been nice, Jack had held her hand, at first she had not been sure if he would do it, but while they walked together his hand wrapped around hers. The feeling of his fingers being intertwined with hers was comforting, even if the walk was a short one. They had chatted quietly the entire way to the hospital, speaking in a soft tone while they walked. As they got closer to the PTMC she had to admit that she was glad Jack had made her wear the hoodie over the scrubs while they walked. The smell of him was comforting as the nervousness rose, she was not sure why she was nervous, no one knew that she had slept at Jack’s place, though it would probably become very obvious once she walked into the PTMC wearing his hoodie, while he walked right beside her.

They had let go of each other’s hands as they started winding through the waiting room packed with people. There was a lot more backlog than usual, people with minor injuries that should have long been seen and discharged were still sitting there, the mood seemed to be sour and while she and Jack walked through the throng of people some tried to grab them, talk to them, get them to explain to the people why they had to wait so long to be seen by a Doctor.

One patient in particular had grabbed the side of her jacket, he was not angry, but he seemed to be in a great deal of pain as he grabbed her. Freezing up she felt the hand around her throat again, the hand buried in her scrubs while she was being shaken violently. Nausea rose in her stomach.

“I need you to let go of her,” Jack spoke in a calm, yet firm tone with the patient one of his hands was placed in her back, trying to comfort her. His eyes flickered between her and the patient, “Once we are inside we will make sure that you are seen as soon as possible,” Jack was firm with his words, the patient looked at him with wide eyes, suddenly seeming to realise what he had done.

“I am so sorry,” he apologized, shame growing on his features as he suddenly let go of her, the feeling of tension disappearing from her shoulders as he did.

“It’s alright,” she gave him a gentle smile as she felt Jack’s hand run down her back, carefully grabbing her hand as he led her away from the patient. He did not have to say anything as he looked at her with a certain measure of concern in his eyes.

“I’m okay,” she spoke softly as they walked towards the staff entrance. His hand still interlocked with hers as he practically dragged her along. Lupe saw them coming and luckily buzzed them in quickly. As they entered the chaos of the Pitt Jack let go of her hand, heading towards the nurses’ station while she made her way towards the lockers, shoving in her backpack and Jack’s hoodie.

Looking over her shoulder she could see Princess glaring at the hoodie like it had personally offended her. Perlah standing next to her with a smug grin on her lips. As the two women saw that she had spotted them they exchanged a few quick words in Tagalog, then disappeared down the hallway. Shaking her head slightly she thought that this was going to spread like wildfire.

Heading towards central she saw Princess and Perlah talking to Dana and Mateo, these two women worked quicker than any national news hotline. She could see Bridgit leaning against the counter beside Dana, both of the charge nurses wearing a satisfied smirk as Mateo looked mildly disappointed.

Ellis was already there, leaning against one of the work stations while Collins was talking to her in low tones. Slowly she approached the two women, hoping to catch some parts of the transfer. Usually Collins always did these thoroughly and Jack always said that there was a lot she could learn from Collins. As she approached she heard Ellis speaking.

“Yeah, did you see that pepp in his step? Either he got laid or something else happened because I am telling you that this is not normal for him,” Ellis sounded almost as invested in this conversation as she had sounded when talking to Olsen about the bets being placed about her and Jack knowing each other before she started working at the PTMC.

“Do you think the pool might start emptying soon?” Collins asked as she grinned slightly. Leaning against the workstation as she crossed her arms in front of her chest. Ellis hummed at that, letting her head fall from side to side in contemplation.

“Honestly if it does, whoever hit the jackpot is going to be rich! Hell surgery even started betting some time ago,” Ellis paused, shaking her head in what appeared to be amusement, “I think there are well over a thousand bucks in that pool, probably close to two thousand,”

Collins nodded, slowly she decided that maybe it would be best to change direction, turning she looked around trying to find someone she could talk to and at least pretend to do something productive. Squinting slightly she looked around for Jack, who was nowhere to be seen, probably on the roof talking to Dr. Robby. Finally she saw someone she could talk to, Tommy, who had just walked into the Pitt, hands shoved into his pockets as he looked around.

“Tommy!” she called out, a grin on her face as she walked over to him. As a few heads turned she realised that this had probably been the stupidest idea of the entire day, calling out to him just confirmed that they had arrived separately, something that had not happened in ages, practically since her second night on the night shift.

—————————

That thought had proven right, the second she had called out to him Collins and Ellis had practically kidnapped her. Dragged her towards the workstation and pretended to explain something to her, though it was obvious that the two women were inspecting her. Suddenly Ellis leaned in closer, like she was trying to get a whiff of how she smelled.

The older woman squinted slightly after she had taken a painfully obvious deep breath as she leaned in.

“You out of shampoo?” Ellis asked in a playful tone as she nudged her with her elbow. Raising her eyebrow at Ellis she decided that maybe it would be fun to play a little cat and mouse when they were already trying to get information out of her.

“Oh, no,” she shook her head, looking at the chart Collins had put in front of her, “I just crashed at a friend’s place yesterday. He sadly doesn’t have a more feminine shampoo,” there was a slight hint of humour in her tone, “But I will probably change that in the future,”

That comment made Ellis’ and Collins’ head snap in her direction, their eyes wide as she shrugged slightly. A small smile in her face as she looked at the two women.

“Sooo, this friend of yours…” Collins paused, glancing at Ellis with a conspiratory smirk on her lips, “Do we know him?”

“Hmm,” she pretended to think about it for a second, though suddenly an idea popped into her mind, wanting to keep them on edge and not tell anyone anything in case Jack did not want people to know.

“A lady doesn’t kiss and tell,” she winked at the two senior residents as she turned to head towards Bridgit who seemed to be in a heated conversation with Shen, who looked like he might actually start throwing things, though Bridgit didn’t look better.

“You have a minute?” Tommy asked softly as he appeared beside her, a soft smile on his lips as he saw her. There was some guilt evident on his features as he approached.

“Of course,” she gave him a soft smile as they continued to walk towards central. Tommy fiddled with his hands.

“I know that you said that it was okay for you, but Masie and I wanted to apologize again,” he paused for a moment, looking like he might actually sink into the ground, “We were also wondering if you would prefer for me to move out of the apartment again,” Tommy spoke so softly that it made her heart clench.

“Listen, Tommy,” she paused, taking a deep breath. “I am in too good of a mood for a conversation like this, but I really don’t mind it. If you want to move out, I will not stop you, but I really enjoy your company.” She tilted her head to the side, trying to be a bit reassuring, when suddenly a loud cheer came from central. Robby and Dana had high fived as Jack stood there, his expression mildly pissed off as Robby and Dana held out their hands towards Princess who looked mildly pissed off as well.

“Come on, that’s just rude!” Bridgit laughed as she leaned against the desk, “Leave the old man alone,”

Slowly they approached the nurses’ station, all eyes turned to her as she glanced at Jack with a raised brow. He did not seem to notice her while glaring at everyone else standing around them.

“I swear to god, could you not have waited until next week!” Princess looked so annoyed at Jack, who gave her an even angrier glare, then looked at Robby with an expression that basically spelled out that he was going to kill him.

“No one can do anything in peace in this place without you people betting on it,” Jack sighed, sounding rather annoyed as he shook his head.

“The woman of the hour,” Dana grinned at her as she saw her and Tommy approach the nurses’ station. Jack's head snapped to the side, a small and fond smile growing on his face as he saw them coming towards them. Princess let out a sigh as she saw his line of sight, like she was completely done with this entire day.

“What’s going on?” She tilted her head to the side, having a very good idea of what was going on. A fluttering grew in her stomach as she saw Jack’s hand twitching slightly, both she and Tommy settled into the nurses’ station, she leaned against the desk, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

“Trying to settle what is going on so we can finally close the biggest betting pool we have had in years!” Princess crossed her arms in front of her chest, tilting her head to the side, tapping her foot in annoyance, “And Dr. Abbot won’t tell us the whole story,”

She let out an amused snort as she looked between everyone gathered around them. Trying to see how much they knew and how much Jack had already told them. His hand twitched again, the need to simply grab it and hold on to him growing in the pit of her stomach as she glanced between Robby and Dana, who seemed to know more than the rest of the Pitt crew.

“What is going on here?” The loud voice of Gloria made everyone scatter as quickly as possible, not wanting to be the reason for the CMO’s bad mood.

By the shift change from night shift to day shift Ellis held a thick envelope stuffed with cash in her hands, a satisfied grin on her face, Robby was the victim of disapproving stares by Jack and more than enough people were interested in being told the whole story in great detail.

—————

Tags:

@antisocialfiore @fudosl @smileykiddie08 @darksparklesficrecs @tommosgirl06 @rosieposie88 @moonshooter @wowitsafemale @qardasngan @starlightmoon2020 @lonelyloomis

[coolshadowtwins]

Shen Yuan gets hit with a truth serum plot fic round up!

These are from the comments and reblogs of my previous post

Absolution by airplanelanding

https://archiveofourown.org/works/51587557#main

Summary: Luo Binghe stared back at him. There was something distant in his eyes, something Shen Qingqiu was too tired, too drained, to decipher. Then, Luo Binghe’s lips opened in a non-apology, a soft, murmured sentence—a quiet, “I need to know the truth.”

Shen Qingqiu frowned. He opened his mouth to question the damn-near imploring words, but he never got the chance.

He failed to notice something was in Luo Binghe’s hands until it was too late.

Or

Luo Binghe is determined to get answers this time, now that Shen Qingqiu can't run away. Even if he has to use a truth serum to do it.

aka A Water Prison Re-Write.

"open my lungs to let you in" by ghostybreads https://archiveofourown.org/works/37276570

Summary: Shen Qingqiu had a secret. So, naturally, it was only a matter of time before he was hit by a truth serum wife plot.

//

“How are you?”

“Horny. Kind of want Binghe to rail me, I guess. But it’s manageable.”

Liu Qingge’s hand on his forehead froze, and he was close enough that Shen Qingqiu could hear his breathing stop. He stared back expressionlessly, the mortification distantly crawling up the back of his neck. Honest One-Horned–

The frustrated scream that he usually vented in his head, came out straight from mouth.

“aaAAAAAHHHH GODDAMNIT AIRPLANE–”

no regret (i've been sorry all these years) by krmilia

https://archiveofourown.org/works/39006066

Summary: There is no actual way the System hated him so much, right? Right?

Recently a lot of shitty things happened to Shen Qingqiu. By that he meant sowers in Jinlan city, return of his wayward disciple – who, uhm, prepared him surprise by leaving the Abyss two years early – and now… Well, now he was poisoned with a truth serum.

(Or, Bingqiu finally talk.)

speak your mind (not that much!) by nyoomerr https://archiveofourown.org/works/38953875

Summary: Before the investigation in Jinlan City, Shen Qingqiu is hit by a curse that forces him to speak his mind. Unfortunately, this means that the first thing he does when he sees Luo Binghe for the first time in three years is to tell Luo Binghe that he's grown up to be really quite pretty.

Luo Binghe, not sure what's going on but absolutely enjoying the ride, abandons all his plans immediately. He has new priorities now, including but not limited to:

- get his Shizun to call him 'pretty' again

- steal his Shizun away from his (probably in existence) harem

- ???

funny how you just break down (waiting on some sign) https://archiveofourown.org/works/36742384/chapters/91657246

Summary: Luo Binghe’s hand is half-raised, and Shen Qingqiu is going to die and this is the hand that will—

“[Notice: In appreciation of your continued use of our services, System 2.0 is offering {Valued Customer} a complimentary Bonus Plotline! Do you accept?]”

aka, What if Luo Binghe could read Shen Qingqiu’s mind during the Jinlan City arc?

What is Seen by CavetteDracones

Summary: …is not [always] the real truth.

Truth-compelling artifacts in the hands of an enemy to one side, SYSTEM-mandated silence on the other, and Shen Qingqiu caught between the two. Is it too late to go back to the Water Prison?

BONAS:

Moshang

If It can be destroyed by Tossawary https://archiveofourown.org/works/53124079

I’ll probably add more as they are either found by me or suggested!