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gothgoblinbabe · 10 months ago

Text

Drunken Words, Sober Thoughts

Logan Howlett x fem!reader

Warnings: ( MDNI 18+) neighbor!reader,fem reader, Logan’s kinda rude for a lil’ bit, neighbors to frenemies to lovers? Idk, alcohol consumption (nothing 18+ happens while anyone is intoxicated), swearing, i can’t write Wade’s witty dialogue for shit pls bear w me, implied age gap, unprotected sex (wrap it up I beg of you), poking fun at the Kardashians a little, swearing and I think that’s it, but pls lmk if I missed any!

Summary: You have a little too much to drink one night in Wade's living room, resulting in an indirect confession that Logan absolutely hears through the thin drywall of his bedroom. Wade then ditches your usual weekend plans in an attempt at playing cupid - and it may just be the best favor he's ever done for you.

Word Count: 8K (get comfy bitch)

divider credit here and here

Being Wade Wilson’s best friend and neighbor included two main components:

Watching trash TV and getting drunk every other weekend - usually at the same time - and Wade wasn’t going to let his new roommate's attitude ruin it in the slightest.

“She’s gonna be here any minute and if you don’t pull the stick out of your ass and be nice, I'm going to lock you in your room like a sad, lonely dog.”

Logan only grunted in response, sipping his drink in the doorway and watching him run around the living room to make the place look livable.

He’d only moved in a couple weeks ago and Wade had been trying to introduce you both - inviting you over when he knew Logan had no plans - but every time, he was out the door before you were even opening yours across the hall. He’d try everything he could to avoid meeting new people, fearful that any type of real connection with someone would be ripped out from under him just like it had been many times before.

Wade huffed in satisfaction when he was done moving a few things around, standing in front of Logan with his hands on his hips.

“I mean it, kitty cat. She’s a sweet girl - keep the claws in.”

“Told you to stop callin’ me that.”

“Too bad, so sad, kitty.”

As Logan was considering puncturing three evenly spaced holes in both sides of Wade’s chest, they were both interrupted by a knock on the front door.

You were on the other side, of course, a twelve pack of beer under your arm. You rocked back and forth on your heels while you patiently waited for Wade to let you in. You did kind of hope you’d maybe get to meet his new roommate this time - it was a little odd that he was never there when you were.

He answered the door after a second, placing a hand over his heart dramatically when he saw the beer in your arms.

“For me? Aw, sugar, you shouldn't have,” he sighed as he took the box from your arms, ushering you inside.

“Did I have a choice?” you joked back, kicking off your shoes.

You followed him into the living room only to stop in your tracks.

Logan stood near the couch in his sweatpants, looking like he’d been dragged into the middle of the room to be put on display. He did reluctantly agree to stay for a second and finally let him introduce you so he could sulk back to his bedroom and nurse a bottle of whiskey till he fell asleep.

“Well, there he is,” Wade said in a lackluster tone, “now, he is house trained, but he does bite occasionally - “

“Fuck off.”

His deep voice surprised you a bit, unintentionally raising your eyebrows with your gaze still on him.

“ I'm Logan.”

You nodded politely and introduced yourself, shoving your hands in your pockets nervously. He was tall, definitely a good couple years older than you and incredibly handsome, all of which made your stomach erupt into butterflies.

And Logan did not like the way you were looking at him.

He’d seen it more times than he could count on the faces of every pretty young thing that tried to take him home from the bar, batting their eyelashes at him and laying hands on him like it would be persuasive in any way. It never worked, as his dismissive attitude sent a clear message. He couldn’t be bothered to take any of them up on their offers and wasn’t interested in fulfilling some fantasy they had about being with an older man. He didn’t think much about stuff like that anyway, avoiding any chance of vulnerability and attachment to someone he was sure he’d eventually lose.

And you still had that look on your face.

“Night.”

With that, Logan disappeared down the hallway to his room and shut the door.

“He’s not much of a talker,” Wade assured you, “probably for the best.”

From then on, you’d occasionally see Logan come out of his room while you were over - getting something from the kitchen, doing his laundry, coming and going - and each time you had to feign complete disinterest. Wade had quickly taken notice of how you tried to keep your head down every time Logan entered the room to hide your pink cheeks and - naturally - there was no way for him to be quiet about it.

When Logan came out of the bathroom one time with a towel around his waist and dripping wet hair as you and Wade sat at the kitchen island, your best friend was more than eager to run his mouth.

“Oh, c’mon, don’t do that to her!” he exclaimed, gesturing towards you, “you’re practically dangling meat in front of a starving dog - poor girl.”

You had your face buried in your hands with your elbows on the counter, wishing more than anything that you could sink into the chair and through the floor.

“God, shut up.”

Your voice was muffled by your hands but he still heard you.

“And put a stop to my job as cupid?”

Logan rolled his eyes and shook his head, turning towards his bedroom. He’d seen the way your eyes widened the second he’d opened the door, traveling all the way from his bare shoulders to the trail of hair that dipped under the towel. You’d turned pink almost immediately. It would have been something he’d found cute maybe a couple decades ago, before the very last bit of his naivety had faded away. Now, it was just infuriating to him. He could try to drop every hint on earth that he wasn't interested (which for him, just meant avoiding you completely) and you still looked at him like a lovesick schoolgirl.

This weekend came along like every other, texting Wade back and forth about snack options and finally getting up to shuffle across the hall with a bag of chips.

He answered the door as usual, ushering you in. You plopped yourself down on the couch and kicked your slippers off, clad in sweatpants and a tank top. He sat beside you and you propped your legs up on his lap, snatching the TV remote from the coffee table to flip through channels. You heard what you assumed was Logan’s bedroom door open down the hall, keeping your eyes glued to the TV.

“Peanut! Care to join?” Wade exclaimed as he watched his roommate enter the open kitchen, digging around in the fridge.

You still didn’t tear your gaze from the screen.

“Hell no.”

That wasn’t much of a surprise.

“Your loss!” Wade reached for the pack of beer on the table, offering one that you gladly accepted, “but don’t bother us, keeping up with the kardashians is incredibly important.”

“Uh - huh.”

Logan disappeared again in seconds and Wade shook his head.

You focused back on the TV screen.

“So, how many minutes into the episode do you think one of them is going to start a fight?”

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Hours and many beers later, you were on the floor with your knees to your chest between the couch and coffee table as you tried to stifle your giggling. Wade was laid on the couch, no better off than you.

“Hey - hey, I wanna ask you somethin’,” his voice became a little serious, but he still had a shit eating grin on his face, “what are you into Logan for anyway?”

You dreaded the question, groaning and closing your eyes.

“Seriously! I mean, I’ve been here the entire time - “

“Wade.”

He looked at you expectantly, awaiting a response.

You contemplated your answer for a moment, your filter diminishing more and more with every sip of beer, “God, I don’t know, he’s - he’s jus’ big.”

You were snickering behind the beer bottle you drunkenly held in front of your face in an attempt to hide.

“I don’t think he’s that impressive. You know, he’s got small feet - tiny, like a child.”

That had you both doubled over, trying to muffle your laughs with your hands and the throw pillows strewn on the floor.

“Stop, stop - ” you choked out when you finally caught your breath, wacking him on the arm.

“Okay but really, what is it? I know you, you’re not into beefcakes,” he laughed and shook his head.

You sighed, not really thinking for even a second before you started speaking again.

“He’s older and he’s hot -”

“And completely cold and dismissive towards you.”

You rolled your eyes at his interruption but still nodded, “yeah - yes, but that’s not my point.”

Wade took another sip of his beer and motioned for you to continue talking.

“He, uh - ” you tried to bite down a giggle, your face turning pink, “I don’t know, I think he’d be good in bed.”

That made him sit forward on the couch, his mouth open in surprise, “I knew it! I knew you were a horny freak!”

“Am not!” you picked a pillow up from the floor and launched it at his face, “I’m allowed to be, anyway!”

“Whatever,” he caught the pillow in his hands, “I'm on operation ‘Cupid’ and I have never quit a mission, cupcake. So, what about him makes you think that? Is it because he's a hundred and eighty - something years older than you? He’s probably been passed around the block like a wh - “

“Okay,” you cut him off, cringing at the thought, “ I think I got the picture.”

Your mind began to wander again about Logan and you narrowed your eyes in thought, staring at nothing.

“What’cha thinkin’, honey bun?”

Wade's voice cut through your concentration and you shrugged, a smile creeping onto your face.

“Oh no,” he started, stretching the vowel, “you’re having a sex fantasy right now, I can see it on your face - disgusting. Tell me more.”

“What, you want details?” You laughed, giving up on trying to hide it if Wade could already read you like an open book. You were both terribly honest with each other - almost to a fault.

“Not the full middle-aged-white-women erotica novel version,” he answered, “I can accept cliff notes.”

You thought for a moment, going down the mental list you’d made of all the assumptions you had about the older roommate that you rarely ever saw.

“He’s gotta have a huge dick. Like, massive.”

Wade nearly spit out his beer but nodded for you to continue.

“I’d let him, like - like,” you were giggling between words as you tried to form a sentence, “ fuckin’ rearrange my guts.”

That did make Wade spit his beer, which set off a train of uncontrollable laughter that you both tried to stifle.

Still, throw pillows and hands over your mouths were not as effective as you believed.

Logan’s eyes fluttered open, squinting in the dark. The digital clock on his nightstand read ‘2:24 am’ in red LEDs. He closed his eyes again and tried to drift back to sleep, only to be jolted up by the sound of the two of you laughing obnoxiously from the living room.

“For fuck’s sake,” he mumbled to himself, getting up to walk towards his door so he could tell you both to keep it quiet. As his hand touched the knob, he halted when he heard your voice.

“He’s probably good at eating pussy. He’d be like an animal - “

Logan was stuck in place, his eyes narrowed. Who the hell were you talking about?

“Can we go back to the rearranging guts thing? ‘Cause I have to tell you, sister - he’s made of metal and he’ll really do it.”

That couldn’t be about him. He refused to believe you two were actually talking about him like that in the next room.

“I’d let him,” he could hear you snickering.

“Is this a daddy issues thing? The ‘I can fix him’ maneuver?”

“I didn’t say I wanted to fix him, I said I wanted to fuck him.”

If this was about some guy, Logan should be relieved; thankful that you’d found a new target of infatuation. He should be relieved, but he was gripping the door knob like he was going to break it off.

Wade’s voice broke through his thoughts, “you’re lucky Logan’s not much into relationships, then.”

So you were talking about him.

Your voice echoed in his head, your words cementing themselves into his brain.

On the living room floor, you were chucking pieces of popcorn into Wade's direction, trying to land one in his open mouth.

“Hey,” he started after catching a piece between his teeth and eating it, “if you do end up in Wolvies bed? Pics or it didn’t happen.”

You gasped and nearly chucked your empty bottle at his head, deciding against it when you remembered Logan was asleep in the other room.

Logan was in the other room.

Just as you were about to panic to Wade about Logan overhearing your foul-mouthed and horny drunk rambling, you both heard the click of his door coming unlocked and the creak of the hinges. He appeared at the doorway in a beater and pajama pants, his hair sticking up in every direction. Truthfully, he looked cute.

“Shut the fuck up, both of you. It’s two in the morning.”

Adorable, even.

“Oopsie! Sorry, Peanut. We had very important things to discuss,” Wade replied.

Without another word, Logan shut his door again and you and Wade sat in comfortable silence for a moment.

“Do you think he heard me?” you whispered, grimacing.

“We’ll find out.”

With that, you both decided to call it a night and you returned to the familiar comfort of your apartment.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

The next morning, Wade was up far earlier than his roommate, as usual. He sat on the couch with his feet on the coffee table, turning his head when he heard Logan’s door open.

“Sleeping beauty! So kind of you to bless me with your presence. What’s the occasion?”

“Breakfast.”

“Technically it would be lunch, peanut.”

Logan was facing the pantry in the kitchen and Wade could still feel the anger radiating off him.

Ignoring his seething silence, Wade began to speak again, “you didn’t happen to overhear any conversations last night, did you?”

Logan was facing him again, pouring cereal into a bowl and speaking without looking away from it, “you mean the one where your little friend said she wanted to fuck me? Yeah, I heard enough of it to get the jist.”

Wade had a gleeful look plastered on his face as he turned in his seat, “so you’re gonna take her up on the offer, right?”

“That wasn’t an offer, and besides,” Logan was shoveling cereal into his mouth, “ ‘m not interested.”

“See, you say that, Peanut, and yet you just have to come out here at least once while she’s over.”

Logan was glaring daggers into his skull.

“I live here.”

The younger of the two clicked his tongue, turning his attention to the TV screen, “All I'm saying is that she’s our neighbor, she's a sweetheart, she is single and has a job and an apartment all to herself, dude. Bone city.”

“Ew.”

“Think about it.” “Don’t need to.”

As Logan scarfed down the rest of his breakfast and put the bowl in the sink, Wade was already typing furiously in his messages to create a plan.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Another week rolled by, meaning it was time to get hammered and make fun of the Kardashians again. You held your breath waiting for Wade to answer the door, anxiously picking at your fingernails.

He opened the door and ushered you in like any other time, except he was dressed to go out instead of the usual PJ attire.

“What, are you leaving me for a hot date?” you teased, dropping the snacks you brought onto the kitchen island.

“Yes!”

You furrowed your eyebrows and frowned, awaiting his explanation.

“I’ve got a date with Vanessa, but - “

Logan emerged from his room, navigating his way to the kitchen as if neither of you were there.

“Peanut! So glad you decided to join us! Hey - “ Wade tapped the kitchen island, motioning for him to come over so he could talk to you both at the same time.

“Okay - I have a date with Vanessa tonight, so I need you,” he motioned between the two of you, “to get along.”

You were about to interrupt, insist that you can just reschedule, but it was as if he’d read your mind.

“You’re already here, cupcake, just stay and chill out. And you - “ he turned completely towards Logan, “you’re going to be nice like I asked you. Do you think you’ll survive?”

Logan was staring at him, unblinking with a scowl on his face.

“You, uh, you don’t have to sit with me,” you mumbled to him, forcing him to finally acknowledge your presence.

He’d half expected it to be your idea as much as it was Wade’s - some kind of ploy to get him alone - but you weren’t jumping at the chance, trying to be touchy-feely with him, begging him to stay.

He almost wished you would.

He cleared his throat and looked back to Wade, “I'm not gonna babysit your friend.”

“Who said I needed a babysitter?” you chimed in.

They both turned to you to watch you slam the top of a beer bottle on the edge of the countertop, sending the metal top flying somewhere into the living room.

“We have a bottle opener in the drawer,” Wade sighed in defeat, ”anyway - you don’t need to babysit her, I'm just saying she doesn’t bite and It would be uncool to leave her all alone.”

“Aren’t you the one leaving?” you asked, taking a sip of your beer.

“Not the point,” he answered, grabbing his jacket from the coat stand as he walked towards the front door, “play nice, don’t eat anything in the fridge with my name on it and there’s condoms in my nightstand!”

He opened and shut the door, leaving the both of you in awkward silence. Logan’s face was actually red, a mix between rage and mild embarrassment.

“He’s a dick,” you muttered, trying to make some kind of small talk, only to be met again with silence. You sighed, going to the couch and picking up the remote. You finally made yourself look Logan in the eyes, your cheeks burning uncontrollably when he never broke his stare.

“Listen - it’s fine, I get it, you’re like…the lone wolf,” you laughed a little to yourself, having to divert your eyes to the fabric of the couch, “I’m not gonna burst into tears if you don’t sit with me.”

He was a little taken back by your bluntness, though it was refreshing. He figured you’d be pink in the face - practically begging him to stay - but you weren’t. You pretended you couldn’t give less of a shit with your eyes now glued to the TV. You were as cool as you could act on the outside, but you nearly lost that cool when he spoke again.

“I can sit for a bit,” he shuffled over to the couch, settling himself down next to you. If you weren’t gonna be all over him like he thought you would, he could withstand a couple episodes of whatever the hell you and Wade had been watching. He didn’t dislike you, really - just terrified of the possibility of intimacy. You were pretty, and from what he’d overheard now and then, you were funny too. He liked the way the smell of your body wash and perfume flooded the apartment whenever you’d stop by and how you’d always bring some leftovers to be sure both of them had eaten - leftovers of which the roommates would always get into a spat over - usually because Logan ate it all before Wade could even see what was in the container.

Unfortunately for Logan, he began to enjoy you being around.

You could feel your stomach tie itself in knots when he sat beside you but nodded in acknowledgment, flipping through TV channels. You settled on the Kardashians again, tossing the remote on the table.

“This is the shit you guys watch, huh?” he teased, grabbing a beer from the pack Wade left behind.

You smiled a little to yourself, noticing how he was slowly getting more comfortable with you, “mhm, top tier - wait till you see one of them talk, it’s like watching an alien.”

You actually pulled a miniscule of a laugh out of him and your heart nearly skipped a beat at the sound.

As the show went on and you both made snarky commentary at just about everything, you felt more and more like you were just hanging out with Wade - comfortable and casual, except for the way your face burned up every time he stretched and his white beater rode up his stomach.

“So,” you began as the episode ended, “thoughts? Opinions?”

He was looking between you and the screen, thinking hard, “I don’t get it.”

You shrugged, “me neither, to be honest, but god is it funny to watch rich people lose their shit sometimes.”

He chuckled again at your response, placing his empty bottle on the table next to yours.

It was silent for a moment, the air tense with something you couldn’t quite pinpoint.

“What do you usually watch on TV?” you asked, intending to flip the channel to whatever he may be interested in - if he had to sit through Keeping Up with The Kardashians, it was only fair.

“Nothin’, really,” he answered, his eyes moving from the screen to rest on you, like a heavy weight on your chest.

“Do you even watch TV?” you asked, the both of you having abandoned the idea of trying to find something else to watch and just letting it play in the background.

“Nah,” he shrugged, his arms crossed against his chest, “ I don’t do much of anything.’

You could tell his answer was earnest and you frowned a bit, swinging your legs up on the couch and turning to face him completely, “nothing? There has to be something.”

He was unsure about how close you were to him now, your knees to your chest as you looked at him expectantly. He thought he’d be met with that look - the one you kept giving him in passing that he hated so much - but your face was neutral, waiting patiently for him to respond. Truthfully, he didn’t hate the look itself - or you, for that matter - but hated how it made him feel.

As if there were some sliver of hope for a future worth living through.

He cleared his throat, turning his body towards you on the couch, “I work out, sometimes - “

‘’Yeah, clearly’’, you wanted to say.

“Other than that,” he continued, “I don’t know, the bar - sometimes I'll let Wade drag me out somewhere but I usually leave after half an hour.”

“Huh, so you really are by yourself a lot,” you realized aloud.

Logan never thought it sad until he heard it from your mouth.

“I like it that way, most of the time,” he shrugged.

“I can tell - took you two weeks to finally say hello. I think this is the most I've ever heard your voice, actually.”

He realized you were right and did feel a little bad, “I’m sorry about that, by the way. I just don’t like meeting new people.”

“Me neither.”

It was silent then - save for the TV - either one of you waiting for the other to explain just why that is. You figured it would be easier if you went first.

“I never really had a lot of friends growing up. I had a hard time in school and a lot of the other kids didn’t like me. It was just tough to make friends, especially because - “

You stopped, thinking over what details to include and what to leave out.

“Because?” Logan prompted and you sighed, biting back a giggle.

“Because I was goth. I don’t mean I just dressed in black - I mean I wore white face paint and huge boots and ate lunch in the art room.”

That actually pulled a real fucking laugh out of him and you couldn’t help but mirror his smile.

“I’m not laughing ‘cause you were goth, that's not weird” he clarified, “I'm laughing because I just can’t picture it.”

You didn’t embrace the style as much as you used to, trading Siouxsie Sioux makeup for reading glasses and teased hair for your natural texture.

“I’ll bring over my highschool yearbook sometime,” you chuckled, shaking your head.

Realizing it was now his turn to speak, he readjusted himself in his seat and cleared his throat, visibly becoming a little uncomfortable.

“You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to, you know,” you reminded him gently, giving a soft smile.

It only made it harder for Logan that you were so damn nice.

He tentatively explained the timelines, the different versions everyone has of themselves, how he’d gotten there. You hung on his every word, unintentionally giving him a sympathetic look when he had finished explaining.

“So…you were just alone after all that?” your voice was soft, worry clear in your tone.

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, “yeah, yeah.. ‘till I met Wade, obviously.”

You gave him a small smile, “you’ll never be alone again, you know.”

For some reason, the unfamiliar comfort made his stomach turn and he simply shook his head, “Yeah, I'm never gonna be able to get rid of him.”

That made you giggle, nodding in agreement.

“You can try, but he will always find you - like a determined cockroach.”

That got the both of you and you’d never seen Logan smile that way - though, to be fair, you never saw much of his face anyway.

The version of you that sat on the couch across from him was far from who he thought you were. He felt guilty now for assuming things just from looking at you, but it was a habit he had yet to shake. It was clear you were beautiful - that was never a question - but talking with you made him realize just how much he may have missed out by keeping himself so closed off. You laughed at almost every joke he had made, comforted him when he was nothing but rude and always checked up on him and Wade. You smelled so nice, your hair looked so soft and he almost found himself wanting to reach over and run his fingers through it. In his eyes, you seemed to be everything he was not; all of the best qualities he believed he didn't possess.

“Oh, hey - do you want some popcorn? I brought the microwave kind, I keep telling Wade to get it himself and he never does,” you snapped him out of his trance and stood from the couch, already walking to the kitchen.

“Uh, sure,” he found himself getting up to follow you, not wanting to pause a moment of conversation.

You tossed the bag in the microwave and hit the button, leaning yourself against the counter. Logan leaned himself besides you, significantly taller. You’d held your composure so far, but having him so close and realizing just how much bigger he was made your heart beat like a rabbit’s.

“So, you never asked about the mutant thing,” He spoke over the popping, looking down at you and waiting for the twenty questions.

You only shrugged, “I figured If you wanted to tell me, you’d tell me. I wasn’t gonna interrogate you about it. Plus, Wade told me.”

“Of course he did,” Logan scoffed, “I’m afraid to know what exactly it was that he told you.”

“You’ve got adamantium instead of bones,” you replied matter of factly, “and you’ve got claws. I mean, I’ve never seen them, but that's what he told me.”

He thought for a minute, stepping in front of you a little. He was about arm-length away, putting enough distance between you both that he was sure he wouldn’t accidentally knick you.

In a second, the adamantium claws protruded from between his knuckles, glistening in the kitchen light. You flinched for only a second, leaning in to inspect them.

“Woah,” you muttered, bringing a finger up to the very end of one of them and letting it poke you, “cool.”

He was a bit confused by your calm demeanor, but relieved by it anyway. It was never a good time when someone had a bad reaction to the claws. The microwave beeped and he retracted them, stepping out of your way. You opened it and held the scolding bag with two fingers, realizing you needed a bowl to put it in.

“Logan, can you grab a-”

You felt one hand on your hip and could see his other reach above you, opening a cabinet you couldn't and handing you a bowl. Your back was almost flush to his chest, making you feel warm all over. He reluctantly pulled away from you and you cleared your throat, shaking the popcorn into the bowl.

He watched you from where you stood, taking in the curve of your waist and hips and realizing he was in much more trouble than he’d originally thought. He’d heard your drunken giggling about him - heard you vulgarly talk about how good you think he’d be at giving head - but he was still thinking it over with his bottom lip between his teeth. He finally broke the silence that filled the room.

“You know, the claws aren’t the only thing abnormal about me.”

“Mm, no?” you laughed a little with your back still turned to him. You could feel that your face was hot.

“Heightened senses,” he said simply, “hearing and smell, mostly.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Like right now, I can hear your heartbeat.”

Your eyes went wide and you practically froze in place.

“It’s fast.”

His voice was closer.

“Really fast,” his breath was in your ear, his hands coming to rest on your waist, “got even faster when I pointed it out.”

You swallowed hard, knowing very well there was no way to lie to him.

“Jus’ nervous sometimes. It doesn’t mean anything,” you exhaled, attempting to still your shaking hands.

“Mhm,” he hummed, his deep voice reverberating through your chest because of his proximity, “what about the other night, though?”

You narrowed your eyes and turned to finally face him, nearly chest to chest.

“What are you talking about?”

You knew exactly what he was talking about - you just hoped it wasn’t what you thought.

His hands were on the counter behind you, boxing you in.

“C’mon,” he looked at you expectantly with a shit eating smirk on his face, “what made you think I’d be good at eating pussy, anyway?”

You were red with embarrassment, pulling your hands up to cover your face, but Logan caught your wrists gently and clicked his tongue.

“Pretty girl, it’s alright - “

His gruff voice calling you such a sweet nickname nearly made your knees buckle.

“I can smell how wet you get, you know that?”

One of his hands moved to hold you by your throat, barely using any pressure.

“F-Fuck off,” you managed to mutter, stuttering when he pushed one of his thighs inbetween yours. This was nowhere near what you pictured happening when Wade dumped you in his living room with a guy who would barely even look at you.

He chuckled, his other hand pushing on the small of your back to pull you closer into him.

“Yeah? I don’t think you really want me to, sweetheart. Besides, you didn’t answer my question.”

You could barely think, nevermind answer whatever it was he had asked. You were almost nose to nose, Logan craning his neck down a bit to level his face with yours.

“I, um,” your breathing was shaky, “fuck, I don’t know - I jus’ think about it a lot.”

“Me too,” he admitted before crashing his lips to yours, tangling his fingers in the hair at the back of your head. It was truthful - he’d probably thought of you every day since the night he heard you talk about him like that.

You couldn’t help moaning into his mouth when he kissed you, letting him slip his tongue past your lips. His hands roamed down your back and to your ass, using his grip to rock your hips over his thigh.

“So beautiful,” he whispered as he moved down your jaw and neck, kissing and biting at the soft skin, “drove me crazy, hearing you say those things.”

“How much - how much did you hear?” you tried to ask, overwhelmed by his teeth grazing your neck. Your hands rested against his chest - as if you were going to push him away - but you never did.

You felt his lips curve into a smile against your skin, “heard enough.”

“And what exactly was that?”

If he was going to tease, you might as well bite back.

He pulled away momentarily to look in your eyes, knowing damn well he already had you where he wanted you.

“You don’t want to fix me, you want to fuck me, right?”

Your own words sounded so much hotter coming out of his mouth.

“Mhm,” was all you could manage to get out, too focused on the feeling of him pushing and pulling your hips over his thigh.

“Huh? Use your words, sweetheart.”

There was something about the affectionate nicknames he was using in contrast to the filthy way he was trying to push you down even harder on his thigh that made you lightheaded.

“Yeah - yes, I want to,” you practically whined.

That was all the confirmation he needed to hoist you up onto the counter with his hands on your ass. He was kissing you hungrily, his fingers hooking around the straps of your tank top to let them fall down your shoulders. You didn’t waste any time in breaking the kiss momentarily to strip yourself of the garment, tossing it to the kitchen floor.

“Fuck, jesus christ,” He groaned at the sight of your bare chest and immediately brought his large hands up to massage your breasts. A chill went down your spine when he leaned down to take one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking and swirling his tongue. Your hands were threaded through his hair, tugging every so slightly when he would pull his mouth off you with a popping sound. The majority of your chest was glistening with his spit when he finally brought his mouth to yours again, leaving a clear coating over the developing hickies that he left. You tugged at the hem of Logan's white beater to signal that you wanted it off. He did as you pleased, leaving plenty of skin for you to run your hands over.

“Been thinking of you, all spread out of me,” he murmured in between kisses. He used his grip on your ass to grind you against him, his hard cock pressing against you. The pressure from it was enough for your pussy to start aching.

“I wanna know what you taste like,” he continued, holding your chin to tilt your head up, “can I find out?”

You nodded frantically and nearly choked on your own spit. You lifted your hips to let him strip you of your pants and underwear, leaving you completely bare on the counter in front of him.

You felt vulnerable, pressing your knees together only to have Logan use his hands to spread them apart.

“Uh-uh,” he clicked his tongue, “let me see your pretty pussy.”

He got on his knees on the kitchen floor, hooking his arms around your thighs and settling his face between them. He nipped at the hot skin of your inner thighs and you inadvertently tugged his hair every time he did so. He finally laid his tongue flat against you and you whined, the sound echoing through the kitchen. He was sloppy, practically drooling into your cunt and using it to lubricate his fingers so he could slip them into you. Your theory from before was proven right; he was kind of animalistic when he ate you out.

He was curling his fingers as he thrusted them in and out, sucking on your clit at the same time. You gasped when he spoke with his mouth still buried in your cunt.

“Tastes so fucking good.”

Your ankles were locked to keep his head between your thighs, leaning yourself back against the wall.

“Jesus christ, Logan - “ you whined, cut off when he growled into you.

“Mhm, ‘feels good, baby?”

You only nodded, unable to communicate with how deep he was curling his fingers into you. He continued to mumble praises against your cunt, amused by how much it clearly spurred you on.

“This is all mine, huh? Know you wanted it, could smell how bad you needed me every time you were over.”

You could feel the pressure in your lower stomach start to build.

“You’re so wet for me, such a good girl - makin’ such a fucking mess.”

It wasn’t long before you were pulling him back by his hair.

He reluctantly detached himself, looking up at you with concern. His mouth and chin were wet, his tongue peeking out to lick his lips.

“What’s wrong? You okay?”

“ ‘m fine, just - I was close -”

He groaned in a way that almost sounded annoyed, diving his tongue back into you, “C’mon, do it, then - come for me, pretty girl.”

His praise was enough to trigger your orgasm and you couldn’t help rocking your hips against his face as you rode it out. You were cursing, tears starting to form in your eyes when he didn’t let up.

“L-Logan, fuck,” you cried. You could’ve pulled him off, told him it was too much, but he was so determined and skilled in the way he flicked his tongue that the discomfort of overstimulation dissipated into pleasure within seconds.

“One more for me, baby, one more. Think you can?”

You were moaning so loud at that point that you tried to bring a hand to your mouth to muffle the sound but Logan caught your wrist and brought it back to his hair, encouraging you to keep tugging and pulling.

Your second orgasms approached hard and fast, tears rolling down your cheek. Your legs shook uncontrollably as he finally sat back on his heels.

When you caught your breath, he pulled himself up to slide his arms around your lower back and plant a kiss on your forehead, wiping your wet cheeks.

“Can I take you to the bed?”

You nodded and smiled wide, leaning up to kiss him.

He effortlessly carried you through the hallway and into his bedroom, your bare chest pressed against his. The second your back hit his mattress, his cellphone started to ring from his bedside table.

You watched Logan furrow his eyebrows and reach for the phone. He read the caller ID and bore an amused smile, switching it to silent.

“What’s so funny?” you asked, wrapping your arms around him when he came to hover above you.

“It’s Wade,” he chuckled to himself, “probably calling to see if everythings alright.”

That made you giggle, “yeah, we can tell him we’re doing just fine.”

“I’ll call him later.”

His lips were on yours again, the rough denim of his jeans rubbing against you as he pinned you to the bed with his hips. You slid your hands from his neck, down his back and around the front of his waist to rest on his belt buckle. Your fingers made quick work of the metal fastener and you tugged the leather from his jeans. He stood up off the bed for a moment to strip himself of the rest of his clothing. When his cock sprung up from his boxers and hit his stomach, you almost had to choke back a gasp. Again, you were proven right - he was huge. He crawled back between your legs and positioned himself on top of you.

“You’re okay with this?”

If anyone told you maybe two hours earlier that you’d end up under Wade’s grumpy roommate, your chest heaving from the anticipation of finally having him slot into you, you would’ve called them crazy. Now, however, it was a reality - one you would’ve gladly spent the rest of your life in.

You realized he was holding back, gripping the sheets next to your head and waiting for a definite answer.

You nodded and scratched at the back of his neck affectionately. He guided himself into you and you groaned at the feeling of his tip alone.

“ ‘s okay?”

Logan was practically slurring his words with how hard he had to hold himself back. Your warm chest to his, your thighs locked around his waist, the way you smelled; it was all overwhelming in the best way possible.

“So good,” you whined, trying to push your hips up to encourage him to go even deeper, “want all of it, please, please.”

He was chewing on his lip when he finally let himself fill you completely in one thrust. You dug your fingernails into his back, leaving scratches that healed themselves within seconds. He let out a guttural moan with his face buried in your neck, concentrating on trying to build a steady rhythm without finishing things too fast. He propped himself up on his elbows on either side of you as he tentatively rocked in and out.

“So fucking pretty,” he huffed, a hand coming up to wipe the sweat dampened hair from your flushed face. It was so sweet, so intimate; nothing you’d ever really expected with or from him.

“You're handsome,” you managed to reply, amused by how taken back he seemed by the compliment, “perfect.”

He couldn’t remember the last time someone called him that - handsome, definitely never perfect - while actually looking at him like they meant it. Your eyes were trained on the features of his face, attempting to memorize every line and wrinkle; every bit of him that made him Logan. Your eyes felt to him like they could burn right through the wall he’d managed to construct.

Still, he instinctively scoffed as he hovered over you. He was never good at accepting compliments.

“I’m not the lying type, you know,” you assured him, whispering in his ear as he continued at a steady pace, “besides, do you think I'd be under you right now if that wasn’t true?”

“Mm - shut up”, he fought a smile and increased his pace in the hopes that it would render you speechless.

It did, of course.

You were a moaning mess atop his sheets with your back arched to accommodate Logan’s arm sneaking around you. His pace was enough to rock his headboard into the wall and he was thankful it was your apartment on the other side instead of a stranger’s. You were chest to chest as he whispered filthy things into your ear.

“Takin’ it well like I knew you would, baby doll - knew you’d like it when I fucked you like this.”

You were still at a loss for words, overwhelmed by the pressure in your lower stomach.

“You think you’ve got another one in you? C’mon, sweet girl, let me see it.”

His coaxing had your eyes nearly rolled into the back of your head as he pounded into you. Besides the grunts and moans between you two, the only sound echoing in the room was the slap of skin against skin and the squelching of your pussy as he dragged himself out and back in again.

You were almost drooling from how deep he was able to fuck you. The familiar fire in your stomach had you feeling warm all over, building and building itself up. As if he could read your mind, Logan’s hand reached down between the both of you and he started to trace tight circles around your swollen clit.

“F-Fuck, my god, Logan - “

He hummed affirmatively, almost as if to acknowledge that was indeed his name that you were chanting.

You squeezed your eyes shut so hard that you almost saw stars when your third orgasm hit hard and fast. You were probably loud enough for the entire building to hear as he worked you through it.

“Good girl, good girl - c’mere,” he praised, flipping you over so that you were on your hands and knees. You laid your chest as flat as you could against the mattress and arched your back. He didn’t hesitate in fitting himself snuggly inside of you again, his hands kneading at and smacking your ass as he used his grip to push and pull you. It wasn’t long before his thrusts started to become sloppy. He leaned down and hooked an arm around you, lifting you up a little so that his chest was pressed to your back. He moved his hand to your throat to tilt back your head. The way you looked back at him, your beautiful eyes boring into his soul - that was all he needed to finally let go. You felt him flood you with his come, a mixture of yours and his soaking the sheets underneath you. He gently pulled out and almost immediately pulled you against him to cuddle, his eyes already fluttering close. You didn’t take him for the cuddly type but it was just another wholesome thing you’d learned about him.

“You should call Wade back,” you mumbled, already drifting to sleep with your head on Logan’s chest.

“ ‘m busy, I’ll do it tomorrow.”

You chuckled to yourself, letting exhaustion overtake you.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Wade practically sprinted up the steps to his apartment the next morning, keys already in hand. If Logan hadn’t answered - even if it was just to tell him to fuck off - something really bad must’ve happened. You hadn't answered any of his fifteen texts, either.

He unlocked his door and prepared himself to be met with a gorey scene, only to be surprised that there was no sign of a scuffle. There was untouched popcorn in the kitchen, clearly abandoned at some point right after making it. Did Logan upset you enough last night to make you leave early?

Of course, he’d completely missed your clothing that had been tossed just out of sight from where he was standing.

Wade sighed in frustration, striding through the hallway and stopping outside Logan’s bedroom. He banged his fist on the door and rested his hands on his hips as he spoke through the wood.

“Hey! Peanut! Did you make our guest leave early last night? How’d it go? You didn’t answer your phone and neither did she.”

On the other side of the door, your heads both popped up at the sound of wade’s banging. You stifled a laugh, looking to Logan for him to say something.

“Uh, yeah…she had somethin’ to take care of.”

Now you had to bury your face in his comforter, uncontrollably snickering.

Without warning, Wade groaned and swung the door open - one neither of you thought to lock because no one had been home.

“You better get your ass across the hall and apologize for whatever it is that -“

He was met with the sight of the both of you in Logan’s bed, covered by the bedding. It was obvious you were both undressed, Logan’s boxers somewhere near Wade’s feet.

He gasped, looking between the two of you in confusion before a giddy smile appeared on his face.

“Oh, I see, I see. Right, mhm - “

Logan was already trying to shoo him out but Wade wasn’t going to let him before he got the last word in.

“You're welcome, by the way!”

He shut the door and you laughed.

Logan laid back again, resting his arm around your shoulders so he could pull you back into his chest again.

In the comfortable silence, doubt settled itself in the form of a pit in your stomach. What if this was a one time thing?

Almost instantly, you felt his hand comb through your hair.

“Hey, uh,” he started, looking down into your eyes, “listen, I know I was supposed to ask this before I got you in here, but - um..”

You could feel your stomach turn, borderline terrified of what he was going to say next.

“Would you want to go out for coffee sometime?”

A wide grin spread across your face and you nodded eagerly, leaning up to kiss him on the cheek.

“I’d love that.”

A/N: this ones long as hell but so is just about everything else I write! if you've made it to the end I loooove u and pls interact if you enjoyed; hearing feedback is what motivates me to keep writing! as always, my inbox is open as well <3

#logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett fic #logan howlett smut #logan howlett fanfiction #logan wolverine #smut #fanfic #wolverine #wolverine x reader #wolverine fanfiction #wolverine fic #fanfiction

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cocklessboy · 2 years ago

Text

The biggest male privilege I have so far encountered is going to the doctor.

I lived as a woman for 35 years. I have a lifetime of chronic health issues including chronic pain, chronic fatigue, respiratory issues, and neurodivergence (autistic + ADHD). There's so much wrong with my body and brain that I have never dared to make a single list of it to show a doctor because I was so sure I would be sent directly to a psychologist specializing in hypochondria (sorry, "anxiety") without getting a single test done.

And I was right. Anytime I ever tried to bring up even one of my health issues, every doctor's initial reaction was, at best, to look at me with doubt. A raised eyebrow. A seemingly casual, offhand question about whether I'd ever been diagnosed with an anxiety disorder. Even female doctors!

We're not talking about super rare symptoms here either. Joint pain. Chronic joint pain since I was about 19 years old. Back pain. Trouble breathing. Allergy-like reactions to things that aren't typically allergens. Headaches. Brain fog. Severe insomnia. Sensitivity to cold and heat.

There's a lot more going on than that, but those were the things I thought I might be able to at least get some acknowledgement of. Some tests, at least. But 90% of the time I was told to go home, rest, take a few days off work, take some benzos (which they'd throw at me without hesitation), just chill out a bit, you'll be fine. Anxiety can cause all kinds of odd symptoms.

Anyone female-presenting reading this is surely nodding along. Yup, that's just how doctors are.

Except...

I started transitioning about 2.5 years ago. At this point I have a beard, male pattern baldness, a deep voice, and a flat chest. All of my doctors know that I'm trans because I still haven't managed to get all the paperwork legally changed, but when they look at me, even if they knew me as female at first, they see a man.

I knew men didn't face the same hurdles when it came to health care, but I had no idea it was this different.

The last time I saw my GP (a man, fairly young, 30s or so), I mentioned chronic pain, and he was concerned to see that it wasn't represented in my file. Previous doctors hadn't even bothered to write it down. He pushed his next appointment back to spend nearly an hour with me going through my entire body while I described every type of chronic pain I had, how long I'd had it, what causes I was aware of. He asked me if I had any theories as to why I had so much pain and looked at me with concerned expectation, hoping I might have a starting point for him. He immediately drew up referrals for pain specialists (a profession I didn't even know existed till that moment) and physical therapy. He said depending on how it goes, he may need to help me get on some degree of disability assistance from the government, since I obviously shouldn't be trying to work full-time under these circumstances.

Never a glimmer of doubt in his eye. Never did he so much as mention the word "anxiety".

There's also my psychiatrist. He diagnosed me with ADHD last year (meeting me as a man from the start, though he knew I was trans). He never doubted my symptoms or medical history. He also took my pain and sleep issues seriously from the start and has been trying to help me find medications to help both those things while I go through the long process of seeing other specialists. I've had bad reactions to almost everything I've tried, because that's what always happens. Sometimes it seems like I'm allergic to the whole world.

And then, just a few days ago, the most shocking thing happened. I'd been wondering for a while if I might have a mast cell condition like MCAS, having read a lot of informative posts by @thebibliosphere which sounded a little too relatable. Another friend suggested it might explain some of my problems, so I decided to mention it to the psychiatrist, fully prepared to laugh it off. Yeah, a friend thinks I might have it, I'm not convinced though.

His response? That's an interesting theory. It would be difficult to test for especially in this country, but that's no reason not to try treatments and see if they are helpful. He adjusted his medication recommendations immediately based on this suggestion. He's researching an elimination diet to diagnose my food sensitivities.

I casually mentioned MCAS, something routinely dismissed by doctors with female patients, and he instantly took the possibility seriously.

That's it. I've reached peak male privilege. There is nothing else that could happen that could be more insane than that.

I literally keep having to hold myself back from apologizing or hedging or trying to frame my theories as someone else's idea lest I be dismissed as a hypochondriac. I told the doctor I'd like to make a big list of every health issue I have, diagnosed and undiagnosed, every theory I've been given or come up with myself, and every medication I've tried and my reactions to it - something I've never done because I knew for a fact no doctor would take me seriously if they saw such a list all at once. He said it was a good idea and could be very helpful.

Female-presenting people are of course not going to be surprised by any of this, but in my experience, male-presenting people often are. When you've never had a doctor scoff at you, laugh at you, literally say "I won't consider that possibility until you've been cleared by a psychologist" for the most mundane of health problems, it might be hard to imagine just how demoralizing it is. How scary it becomes going to the doctor. How you can internalize the idea that you're just imagining things, making a big deal out of nothing.

Now that I'm visibly a man, all of my doctors are suddenly very concerned about the fact that I've been simply living like this for nearly four decades with no help. And I know how many women will have to go their whole lives never getting that help simply because of sexism in the medical field.

If you know a doctor, show them this story. Even if they are female. Even if they consider themselves leftists and feminists and allies. Ask them to really, truly, deep down, consider whether they really treat their male and female patients the same. Suggest that the next time they hear a valid complaint from a male patient, imagine they were a woman and consider whether you'd take it seriously. The next time they hear a frivolous-sounding complaint from a female patient, imagine they were a man and consider whether it would sound more credible.

It's hard to unlearn these biases. But it simply has to be done. I've lived both sides of this issue. And every doctor insists they treat their male and female patients the same. But some of the doctors astonished that I didn't get better care in the past are the same doctors who dismissed me before.

I'm glad I'm getting the care I need, even if it is several decades late. And I'm angry that it took so long. And I'm furious that most female-presenting people will never have this chance.

#transgender #queer #transmasc #lgbtqia+#trans man #sexism #medical sexism #feminism #male privilege

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ryebread0605 · 9 months ago

Note

May I request a fic for Leona, please?

Reader (assumably Yuu) has a lot of cat-like behaviors that are really pretty unconscious. Things like scruffing Grim with their lips when he's being rowdy during class, grumbles that sound a lot like growling, other vocalizations, headbutting (nuzzling) & nibbling at people they're really close to, etc.

Some Beastmen find it kinda odd for a human to do?? But Leona kind of finds it endearing, especially when Reader gets closer to him & exhibits familiar behaviors from home without realizing they're lowkey courting him (and he's accepting the sweet behavior).

For the spice aspect?

Leona wants to see just how much like a cat they really are— including how they scratch at his back & growl in frustration while being edged. They may be a big cat, but he's the King of Savannaclaw. And while they're not a Beast, something tells him they'd make a good spouse who'd adjust quickly if he were to return to the Sunset Savanna.

- 🐈‍⬛ anon

I’ll do my best cat anon!!

If you couldn’t tell, I absolutely ADORE Leona so this was a fun write!!! (I made sure to add a cut where the smut begins!)

When he first met you, he didn’t think anything of you. Afterall, you were just another one of his classmates that he only saw the rare times he went to class. However, all that changed when he saw you interact with Grim in the greenhouse one day.

The cat direbeast had been extra annoying that day, and although you loved him to bits, Sevens you were close to punting him. And so, to get him to stop running off and destroying stuff, you simply picked him up by his scruff with your mouth. To your surprise, and Leona’s, Grim immediately stopped misbehaving and just pouted in your grasp.

From that day, you had gained Leona’s interest, and he noticed more little things about you that reminded him of cat beastmen like himself and Chen’ya. From bumping your head against people to show affection, gifting bones to people as a sign of friendship, and simply letting out a low warning growl at Grim whenever he misbehaved, he became convinced you were at least *part* beastman.

But no, no matter how many times he tried to find any other conclusion, you weren’t a beastman at all. However, him being interested in your behavior inadvertently got your attention on him as well. You felt yourself entranced by the way his ears would flick in irritation when chastised by Vil or how he still worked hard to maintain his unruly hair despite claiming he didn’t care how he looked.

Soon enough, he found random gifts being left at the door of his dorm room. It started small with some sticks, which he threw away thinking nothing of it. Then it progressed to small animal teeth before growing to full animal skeletons. After months, he finally caught you in the act as you left a fresh, high quality steak at his doorstep. He stared at you, arms crossed and eyebrow raised as his tail swayed in slight curiosity.

“Herbivore, what’re you doing here?” His voice was gruff, having clearly just woken from a nap judging by his mess of a mane. And yet, when things clicked in his mind, it was only a split second longer until you were tugged into his room with the door shutting behind you.

Digging your nails into the sheets, you growled out moans as the lion prince rutted into you continuously. Your neck was covered in bite marks, showing everyone who had claimed you. Your back had cum on it from him, and yet despite him cumming twice he had refused to let you cum at all. Letting out another threatening growl as he pulled out just before you climaxed, he quickly gripped the back of your neck between his teeth just as you had done to Grim all those months ago to gain his attention. Afterall, you may act like a cute kitty but he had to remind you who truly was the one in charge here

#disney twst #twst x reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x male reader #twisted wonderland smut #twst smut #twisted wonderland x fem reader #leona kingscholar

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lucyandthepen · 1 year ago

Text

get you alone | ljn ( m )

ideally, jeno should have his hands full with teaching. (un)fortunately, he only seems to have his head full of you.

pairing: tutor!jeno x reader verse: college au rating: r ( minors, do not interact! ) warnings & tags: jeno is a college algebra math tutor & reader is failing, written in lapslock, not beta’d in any shape or form so please excuse mistakes, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, folks), piv, oral (f!receiving), use of pet names (kitten, angel, sweetheart), praise, reader calls jeno ‘sunbae’ until she doesn’t, size kink i guess if u squint! word count: 8.5k

a/n : actually this was written for a different fandom but i’ve decided to make it a jeno fic bc idk why not! first time writing in a different perspective so it’s a bit odd for me & i can't say i fw with this style nor am i particularly proud of this fic but she is ... sumn! also i fear i have a thing for the math tutor trope but that’s neither here nor there AHA enjoy !!

if you liked it, please consider reblogging to support (especially because this may get flagged for mature content)!

there wasn’t anything special about your case; at least, that’s what jeno had thought when he picked up your request before he met you. before he met you, you were just another student trying to demystify the painfully enigmatic art of getting through college algebra. before he met you, he had already tagged this case as another charity stint — a good way to get brownie points with the dean’s office and the mathematics and natural sciences department. in fact, thinking of all his tutoring cases as community service made them somewhat palatable, if not a little forgettable. he was quite sure, at the time, that you’d be in and out — both of the tutoring center and his memory. such was the case with most of his other tutees, anyway.

he hadn’t expected you to be… well, you — a pretty little thing, with your sweet smile and your wide doe eyes. on the first day, you’d stood out; you’d arrived at the tutoring center’s lobby in a short dress, knit cardigan, and coquettish makeup, as if every fiber of your being were bidding the spring a solid farewell. multiple heads had turned, including his, as you came up to the front desk and asked for one lee jeno for college algebra. you were eager for summer, jeno had learned as you broke the ice little by little, in part because you looked forward to visiting okinawa with your family, but also because you were eager to get your first semester out of the way. that much, you had in common with most of his other students — almost all of the ones seeking help in college algebra only took it as a depressing core requirement of whatever degree they were doing. you, specifically, were focusing on fashion design; that very vividly explained your attention to your looks. this mathematics class was a thorn in your side, a mandatory thing that was simply supposed to get you through later business-oriented classes in your degree program. for jeno, however, college algebra had become the perfect excuse from the moment he’d laid eyes on you.

the more time he spends with you, the more he thinks you’re exactly his taste. it starts off with little things he finds attractive, things he picks up while he’s watching you fill out the practice sheets he’s prepared for you on quadratic equations or while trying to get you to understand logarithms — your neat, tiny handwriting, almost like print; your habit of boxing your final answers in firm strokes, even if they’re hopelessly wrong; your colored tabs, cascading down the page side of your textbook. but as the weeks wear on, he sees all the little things in between — the way your long eyelashes quiver when you stop and close your eyes as you think for the answer, the upturn of your plush lips when you have the same answer on the practice sheet as he does, the deepening of your artificial blush with a natural hue when you realize you don’t know the answers to his gentle questions. he notices that you refuse to wear anything longer than a knee-length skirt despite the still-strong winds, notices that your tiny palms are always smooth and pink, that your hair always smells of coconut milk. these are things he can’t help but jot down in his memory — that was exactly what you were, after all: memorable.

and the more he remembers about you, the more jeno wants you. yet he’s never made a move, never given so much as a hint of his interest, not only because there are prying eyes all around the building but also because you have never so much as shown a smidge of desire back. in fact, he has to wonder if you’ve ever thought of him in a different capacity — not as a tutor, but as a man. if you have, you’ve never made that obvious; you always talk to him respectfully, the little wall you’ve erected between the both of you remaining steady, and you never let your eyes linger on his face for longer than it takes for him to explain what you don’t know. jeno has had his fair share of female students, and in all of them, he’s seen the same kind of hunger — to few, he’s catered to their whims, if only to pass the time, if only for his own benefit. but you, with your ribbons in your hair and your sweet, sweet mouth, have never once shown that same kind of desire.

he doesn’t know if it frustrates him, but he does know one thing — it makes him want you all the more.

he wants you even now, as you sit across from him, dolled up as usual. even now, as your eyes take on a glassy sheen of defeat, your cheeks puffing out in the way that tells him you’re admonishing yourself once again, he craves you — maddeningly so. and he realizes that it doesn’t really matter if you're not the one to fall first, as long as he can still have you.

“time out,” you beg, your fingers meeting the palm of your hand to signal a break. “my brain feels like it’s going to explode.”

“you just had a break ten minutes ago,” jeno reminds you, though there’s a lighthearted amusement to his voice that makes you smile sheepishly. “at this rate, you’ll be on more breaks than you’ll be taking the time to actually learn.”

“i’m trying,” you groan, your fingers curling against your forehead as you bump your head against your fist. “i just don’t think i’m cut out for this polynomial whatever — trial and error bullshit.”

“you’ll hate me for saying this — but you’ll never know unless you keep trying.”

“funny.” your sigh rustles the papers in front of you gently. “how do you do it, sunbae?”

“hm?”

“you’re not only good at this stuff, but you’re so good you’re able to take the time to teach people like me.”

“strengths and weaknesses — it’s the natural way of the world.” jeno smiles gently at you, and he notes how his chest feels tighter when you return the sentiment shyly. “i could never do what you’re doing in your own degree, try as i might. anyway, you’ll get there. i won’t let you become my first ever failed project, you know.”

“i wouldn’t want to let you down either, sunbae, but—” the back end of your pencil taps lightly against the surface of the table. “it just feels hopeless. i can’t focus on anything. it’s so… so abstract, and everyone here is talking all at once, and i don’t even know what i’m ever going to get out of this class in the long run.”

even when you’re dejected, you look pretty; your bottom lip juts out naturally when you whine like this, and for a moment, jeno can’t say anything in response. he’s too busy wondering what your mouth would feel like on his — on him. when he snaps himself out of his brief reverie, he notices you’re looking around at everyone else — and he has to agree that with the noise level in this whole building, it isn’t the most conducive site for learning, especially when the learner is already so averse to the subject matter.

“i can’t help much in the way of it being too abstract,” he says kindly. “but it’s not a requirement for us to have our sessions here. i know it can be quite distracting, all these voices flying around, so why don’t you look for a place that better suits you, and we can start meeting there instead? the more comfortable you are in your environment, the better you’ll be able to absorb the material, i’m sure.”

“you think?” your pencil comes to a slow halt as you refocus on him, a thoughtful light glimmering behind your gaze. “yeah — yeah, i actually wouldn’t mind that. then, i’ll look for a different place for us to meet, and we can start there next week. how does that sound?”

“whatever suits you suits me,” he responds easily.

he lowers his gaze immediately after you flash him a blinding grin; there are far too many people here, as you both very well know, and if he keeps looking at you and your pretty little expressions any longer, he might just give them something to actually look at.

it had been your idea, not his, so why did jeno feel like he’d dragged you into a compromising situation?

you’d texted him over the weekend that your search for a new venue had been absolutely fruitless; every cafe and study space you’d been to was either too expensive or equally as packed with people, if not both. jeno had seen the preview to your message, but he hadn’t been prepared for what it read out in full when he’d actually opened it.

sunbae, would it be too difficult to just meet at my apartment? i attached a map, so let me know!

it wouldn’t be too difficult; logistics-wise, it was walking distance from campus and almost directly across the train station he takes home. it also definitely promised an environment you were comfortable in, and you wouldn’t have to worry about excess noise from any other tutoring groups. no, the difficulty really only lied in himself — you two, all alone, would certainly mean his mind would be up to no good for the two hours every monday, wednesday, and thursday you would be together.

but for your sake, he’d try to rein it in, with the operative word being try.

your place is as neat and as pretty as you are; he doesn’t know if you’ve cleaned up for him, or if you’re naturally this organized, but he likes it all the same. it smells of toasted marshmallow and expensive perfume, and all your furniture matches. jeno supposes he likes that in a woman — someone able to care for herself, someone who cares about herself. and you’re always just as neat and pretty to match, with your hair always styled sweetly, your makeup always enhancing your features.

the problem is that now that he’s in here, where you live, and where you spend most of your time, jeno’s mind seems to wander too much towards thoughts about what you do in private. he rejects studying on the couch, not just because it’s bad for posture and concentration but also because he can’t help but imagine you pressed into the cushions by his hand. he suggests the small dining table you have, but on the second meeting at your place, he starts thinking about what you might look like seated on the table, your ass hanging over the edge and his face buried between your thighs. whenever you look up to ask him something, he drinks in your lovely, made-up face again, and starts wondering what your makeup would look like ruined before he interrupts that trainwreck of a thought with the answer to your question.

by the end of the week, jeno’s defenses are all but shot, and he realizes that this situation might be optimal for you, but it definitely isn’t doing him and his now constantly straining cock any great favors.

he supposes that your performance has somewhat improved; you’re less likely to trail off when you’re thinking and can actually do practice sets for a lot longer without all the noise and hubbub around you. your only real hindrance is yourself and your frustration; you have a habit of giving into your carelessness that sends you spiraling into despair, and it doesn’t help that when you press your cheek against the surface of your dining table and whine, the comfort jeno offers is noticeably delayed because he’s too busy thinking about his cock between your lips.

“my dad’s going to kill me if i fail this midterm,” you grumble, stabbing the practice sheet with your pencil; it skids sideways, and jeno robotically fixes it back into proper alignment for you, careful not to brush against the arm that’s folded inwards, supporting your chin. “he only agreed to let me take this degree because of the business aspect of it. as if i’ll need to know about—” you check the header of the worksheet. “domain and range when i’m doing actual design work.”

“you’ll never know what might be useful later on in life. i definitely thought this was nonsense back in high school — and then i got this job.”

“and now you’re rolling in dough?” you smile slightly. jeno chuckles.

“i’m a long way away from having myself a scrooge mcduck golden pool, but i make enough to get by very comfortably, thanks to this.”

“thanks to me, you mean.”

“you’re not my only student,” he snorts, pinching your elbow; you cry out exaggeratedly. “focus up. the hour’s almost over, and you should have finished with this much earlier.”

“can you leave it as homework?”

“not a chance.”

you blow out a sharp puff of air. “my mom used to do this thing where she’d give me rewards if i did well with my homework. i wish i’d still get something out of this.”

“what kind of rewards did she give you?”

“chocolates — candy, or sometimes we’d go out for milk tea together, if i did a particularly good job.”

“this is math tutoring, not a trip to the dentist,” jeno says, amused.

“a trip to the dentist would be more enjoyable,” you mutter under your breath, picking up your pencil and doodling an angry face next to the number you’re only halfway through solving. “this totally blows.”

“try to finish this before the hour’s up, and i’ll see if i can get you something nice. out of my own paycheck,” he stresses, prodding at your cheek to shift your attention back to the paper. he doesn’t miss the fact that your eyes light up, childish as the promise is.

he doesn’t know if that’s really what motivates you, but you do manage to finish the worksheet with a few minutes to spare before the clock hits seven, and that earns you some light, solo applause. it isn’t much by way of true praise, but you flush with pride all the same. jeno packs his things in silence as you get yourself a glass of water, and you see him to the door. only there does he notice your eager eyes, your expectant smile.

“what’s going through that pretty little head of yours?”

“are you really going to give me a reward? i did great today, you know,” you respond bluntly.

“you were serious about that?” he laughs.

“absolutely. i earned it.” you raise a slim finger, wagging it in his face. he trails it with his gaze, no shortage of amusement in his eyes. “next monday, i want something sweet.”

jeno takes in the sight of you, keeping your door open with your hip; he wonders if you know what you’re doing to him, what you’re asking of him — if you even know there’s nothing that could possibly be sweeter than you at this very moment. he drinks in the sight of your feigned haughty expression on your pretty features, the unnervingly low dip of your tank top, the tempting hemline of your shorts, and feels like you must be aware of what he’s going to do next.

“if it’s something sweet you want, you don’t have to wait until next week.”

he does it before he can think it through — surely, there’s nothing too harmful about a quick kiss? he angles your chin upward with his thumb and forefinger before you can even react to his words, and he tastes you like that for the first time. you’re just as soft and as sweet as he’d imagined, if not more so.

when jeno pulls away, you step back; there’s shock written all over your face, your mouth still hanging open slightly. your voice is gentle, shaky when you start speaking.

“sunbae, wha—”

“see you next week. rest up over the weekend, or there’ll be consequences.”

he finds it easy to joke with you now, even after what he’s done — finds it easy to wave goodbye with nonchalance as he walks to the elevator, now that he’s gotten one thing out of his system. the look on your face, the growing blush across the bridge of your nose and your temples is indication enough for jeno to feel confident — if you hadn’t thought about him that way before, you were sure to spend the next few days doing exactly that.

it’s exactly a week before your midterm exam, and jeno notices you’re less than focused.

he’d let you stew over the weekend, not expecting much by way of communication; indeed, his phone hadn’t once been jostled by your texts. he’d taken that silence to assume that you’d been wrapped up in thoughts of the kiss he’d left you with, and you did not disappoint on that front; the next monday saw you fidgety, flushed, and constantly faltering in your words. you asked less questions, which normally indicated a problem, but today, he’d let it slide; you definitely had a little too much on that pretty little brain of yours.

he notices you’re still dolled up — your eyelids are shimmery, and your lips are glossy; you’re wearing a tennis skirt that hits all the right buttons for him, too. it’s true that you’re always pretty well-dressed and put together, but today somehow feels different. if before, jeno had always seen you dressed up simply to look good, today it feels a little more like you’re dressed up to look good for him. he knows it’s a little bit egotistical to assume as much, but he also doesn’t miss the side glances you throw at him when you think he’s not looking at you answering your textbook or the way your cheeks glow when you make the slightest bit of eye contact.

still, you try to focus as much as you can; it’s adorable, in fact, to see all your valiant efforts to appear unperturbed. he figures he’ll play along for as long as you will — what matters to him, after all, is that you’re in the game to begin with. you complain less today, focus on your worksheets, and jeno even manages to witness the sight of your forehead creasing up as you concentrate on a particularly difficult item. you’re adorable, in the kind of way that makes him want to pin you down and have his way with you.

you finish your work without a fuss today; you only actually asked for his help twice, which was a feat in and of itself. and again, when the session is over, you walk him to the door.

this time, when you linger, he waits; you’re clearly not good at hiding your true intentions, as it’s become clear you have something you want to say. as you try to piece your thoughts together, jeno reaches into his backpack’s front pocket and extracts today’s gift — an actual chocolate bar, albeit a rather run of the mill one.

“what’s this?” you ask, your thought process clearly derailed as confusion takes over your features.

“your reward. for a good job last week and today — you said you wanted one, didn’t you?”

“but i thought—” you stop yourself, your mouth opening and closing, suddenly wordless. jeno grins.

“not good enough? i picked that up from a convenience store on my way here, so it definitely isn’t anything special, but i thought it would at least be a good motivator.”

you’re turning red, and there’s turmoil in your eyes — he enjoys this, he realizes, the way he flusters you. if he had known this would be the result, he would have made a move much sooner. you shift your weight from one foot to the other, back and forth, obviously weighing out your options too. finally, you say, “alright.”

“you seem disappointed.”

“i’m not.”

“i’ll get you a better brand next time, if you really don’t like it.”

“it’s not that.”

“so what is it?” he doesn’t expect you to say it, and you don’t defy expectations; your bottom lip just quivers, and jeno chuckles low under his breath, stepping forward just past your doorway, just a little bit closer to you. “don’t tell me you wanted something completely different?”

you don’t say so, but he knows; he can tell by the way you tilt your head back, the way your lips part slightly, the gloss still trailing along the seam. he can tell by the way your torso arches just a little bit closer, almost like an accident. he can tell by the way your eyes bore into his, almost pleading.

“what you did last week…” you start, but your voice trails off into nothing soon after. he chuckles again.

“ah, that. i might have gotten ahead of myself.”

“was that all?” you press.

“and what would you do, if it wasn’t?”

“well — do you always like to play games?”

“i have a penchant for playing with my food before i eat it, if that answers your question.” he smiles down at your still-reddening face. “i was giving you a reward, as you wanted. i came up short on options then and there. you’ll let it slide this once, won’t you?”

“you did that just because i did well last week?”

“of course.”

“well, i did well today, too.”

“you did, and that’s why you have this.” he gestures to the chocolate bar in your hand.

“i don’t want this.” your voice is stubborn now, heated and frustrated, and you stuff the chocolate back into his hand. you must not like having to ask for something so blatantly — it’s too bad jeno wants to hear it in those exact words.

“tell me what you really want, then.”

you’re still unable to find the words, but your hands do the talking for you; they press into his shoulders and give you leverage to tiptoe until you’re just close enough to his lips. but you don’t close that gap, your mouth quivering only inches away from his, and oh, jeno wants to toy with you, but you’re just too irresistible this close to him. his warm palms press against your jaw, keeping your face steady as he closes the gap, and this time, he doesn’t just get a brief taste of you — jeno claims your lips with the thirst of a man who’s stumbled upon an oasis in the desert.

you must have thought about this moment long and hard over the weekend, because the nonchalant side of you that’s turned a blind eye to him is completely gone; he drinks in your soft noises and short, breathless gasps — all signs of your eagerness — until he’s drunk on the taste of you. the deeper the kiss gets, the less you can keep up, but you try, and jeno always likes rewarding your efforts, his wide tongue taut and flush against your tiny one in the sweet, warm cavern of your mouth. he licks every inch of it, leaves the mild nicotine taste of himself there, before he pulls away slowly. your eyes are still closed when he creates distance, fluttering open in a happy haze a few seconds later.

“good enough for you?” he murmurs, tucking a soft lock of hair behind your ear. you hum in assent through your dazed smile, and jeno knows he won’t be the only one looking forward to this coming wednesday.

you’d done really well today.

jeno’s proud of you — prouder than he’s been of most of his students in his career here at the university, actually. you’d finally answered a worksheet almost perfectly, save for a couple of numbers where you’d forgotten to round up, and those things are absolutely negligible at this point (by his books, anyway). you’ve been on your best behavior yet, avoiding all forms of complaint, and he knows fully well why, but he won’t criticize you for your hard work all the same, no matter the motivation behind it.

in fact, you’ve done so good that he doesn’t wait until he’s about to leave to give you your sweet reward — which is why, twenty minutes before he’s meant to go, he’s got you on your couch, your legs spread, each one hooked over his shoulders.

truth be told, you’d been good way before the lesson had started; you’d answered the door in a crop top and the tiniest pair of shorts you’ve dared to wear yet — all clothes that you couldn’t yet wear outside yet, given the weather. selfishly, jeno is thankful for this fact, and if he had to list down other things he’s thankful for, just off the top of his head, it’s that you no longer meet in the tutoring center and that your apartment’s walls seem thick and well-reinforced.

“sunbae, don’t tease me.” your silly little whining voice makes its first appearance of the day, but all jeno does is smile — it’s an almost wicked expression, set firmly between your thighs. “you said i did really well today. don’t tell me you’re backing out on rewarding me?”

“not at all, sweetheart,” he hums, pressing a small kiss to your inner thigh. he likes seeing you shiver at the contact, likes the way you’re chewing on your lip in what appears to be slight agitation. “just thinking of how much of a reward you deserve.”

in all honesty, jeno would like to take every bit of you now; you’re already so ready for him, anyway. he can smell the faint perfume of your arousal, can see the way you’re anticipating the most from him, and a part of him doesn’t want to deny you of that. the larger part of him has dreamed of burying his cock into you, anyway, and why wouldn’t he do that? but something also tells him to wait — or, rather, to make you wait, to make you want him just a little more.

and so, he decides.

his mouth finds your skin again, pressing kisses up your thigh; they get wetter, hotter as his mouth moves up, until his nose and lips are buried against your clothed core. you squirm in response, but his grip on your thighs keeps you relatively steady, even as his tongue presses against thin fabric. the wet muscle pushes sharp against your tiny entrance, the tip meeting slight resistance against your shorts and panties, but he finds a way, burying half his tongue in alongside damp cloth.

you’re already wet like this, and so needy that it might be possible for jeno to get you off just like this, still clothed, but the hunger in him spikes once you call out to him.

“sunbae, please…”

with a groan, his fingers yank the fabric aside, exposing your pussy to the warmth of his breathing. it’s as pink, as pretty, as tiny as the rest of you, as fuckable as he’d imagined it would be, and he wastes no time in pressing his tongue flat against your folds, dragging it up in a wide, messy stripe; the muscle only tenses when it bumps against your clit, his tongue flicking upwards to tease it.

you’re so reactive, even at the slightest things — you whimper, you squeeze your eyes shut, you squirm. you’re begging to be fucked, and jeno’s cock is strained tight against his jeans, but your taste is so addicting that he can’t help but dive back in. his tongue eases between your folds now, spreading them apart until they’re lewd and sticky with his saliva, and the nub of your clit has grown so pronounced now — so pert and lovely that he can’t help but purse his lips around it and suck with excess force.

“sunbae — f—fuck,” you mewl; you almost sound tearful. “f—feels so good…”

jeno wants to tell you how fucking good you taste, how beautiful the sounds you’re making are, but his mouth is too busy; his teeth rake down your cunt lightly, earning him a jerk of your hips, and he has to place pressure down on your thighs again to make sure you’re still enough for him to slip his tongue into your cunt.

he can tell even just by that how tight you’d be around him; your walls are warm around his tongue, and there’s a pressure against the muscle that tells him how good it’d feel for his cock to take its place. as if to simulate his desires, he presses his tongue deeper in, fucks you shallowly with its wetness until your whimpers become little sobs, broken and choked back. his thumb drags across your slit then settles against your clit, and he can feel the thrum of your pulse against the pad of his finger, beckoning him. he complies, easily, thumb tracing circles around the nub that start off slow, only for him to ramp up the pace alongside his tongue.

you’re easily at fault for that; the way you whine for him, call him sunbae, tell him how good it feels over and over — why wouldn’t he want more of you?

he’s not sure which of you really earns the sweet reward today; you cum on his tongue, your cunt trembling against his mouth and your fingers threaded into his hair, but he’s the one who comes out licking his lips like he’s had the best treat of his damn life.

come the middle of next week, jeno finds himself face to face with a test paper — one already clearly marked, with a number circled on the top-right corner. ninety. a stellar grade for anyone, and especially for you.

you know it, and you look absolutely triumphant; you’re practically shining as you perch on your little dining table, your perfectly manicured finger jabbing at the score in emphasis.

“flying colors, wouldn’t you say?”

“color me impressed,” jeno replies smoothly, a genuine smile of pride tugging at his lips; he turns the page over, scanning your responses. you still draw your parabolas a little on the small side, making them a bit difficult to discern, and you’ve still got the habit of not rounding your answers up, but this is tremendous work, and he’ll be the first to praise you for it. “your dad must be filled to the brim with joy now, right?”

“i haven’t told him yet. you were the first.”

“well, i’m proud of you, sweetheart.”

“proud enough to give me a reward?”

he looks down at you in feigned thoughtfulness. here you sit, back in your little tennis skirt, looking up at him with hopeful eyes under those long, curled lashes. for someone who spent the first half of this semester acting ostensibly nonchalant, you’d very easily shown your true colors soon after — not that he really minds. in fact, he’s taken a decided kind of liking to how eager and willing you’ve come to be.

“we’ve only just started our session, though,” he hums out, an idle thumb grazing his chin as he watches your expression turn from bright to cloudy, the beginnings of strategy darkening your gaze. it’s not like he wants to say no; he has no real intention to. but seeing you squirm in want makes him feel good about his decision to hold out a little longer — never mind the ache in his cock even then. “don’t we usually leave the rewards for a later time?”

“i was thinking — since it’s the start of a new lesson —”

“we wouldn’t want you falling behind from the start, would we?”

“i promise i won’t,” you pout. “i promise i’ll put in my best effort next time.”

“next time? sweetheart, don’t tell me you’re thinking to get off scot-free today…” jeno trails off, his hand falling to the nearest surface it can reach — which, logic seems to dictate, is your soft, milky thigh. he feels you tense under his palm, and he bites back a smile, keeping his expression level. “i just don’t know.”

your small hands grip at the front of his shirt, and he hears you, for the first time, doing something he’s always wanted to hear you do.

“please, sunbae?”

how could he say no to you? he hadn’t really planned on it, had only wanted to see you do this, but it’s still too much and beyond his expectation — your misty gaze, your quivering lip. it’s almost laughable that you don’t think he’d notice the way you shift yourself so that his hand, still warm against your thigh, slides up your skin, the hem of your skirt bunched up in the junction between his thumb and forefinger.

jeno chuckles — isn’t this exactly where and how he’s always wanted you? “how could you ask me like that and expect me to refuse, angel? in that case, i have no real choice but to dedicate all our time today to your reward.”

your breathing hitches — in anticipation, in desire, in excitement — as his hand continues its trail upward, deliberately now, fingers hooking into the waistband of your panties. his head dips down, rests into the crook of your neck, and he inhales the thick, sweet scent of your perfume, your shampoo, of you and all that he’ll take from you.

“just remember, you asked for this,” he murmurs against your skin. “so i’m going to take every bit of you until there’s nothing left for anyone else.”

you’re so willing, so ready even before he can get his full bearings; your hips are rising slightly off the table, and jeno feels like it’s you that’s telling him to move faster. he tugs down your panties, letting gravity take its course until they’re a tiny puddle of fabric on the floor, and he slots himself between your legs. like this, you have no choice but to spread, and you do so without hesitation, your knees locking against his sides as he pulls you in for a tight, hungry kiss. there’s that taste of you he loves, that clean, sweet buzz that draws him in, and his hands are bruisingly tight on your waist as he reclaims your lips.

you already look dazed when he pulls away, which is always cute, but a little unfair — jeno wants you to be aware still when he takes you, and damn, if he doesn’t want to take you right fucking now. he kisses you again, harder and more demanding, as if willing your attention back to him, while his hands explore you — run up your thighs, fingers brushing against the plush curve of your ass. it’s not enough, not by a long shot, and he’s pushing the waistline of your skirt up your stomach with his hands, letting his warmth transfer onto your skin; he chuckles as your stomach sucks inward at his touch, just as you let out a gasp against his lips.

and he wants desperately to hear that noise again; in fact, he wants to know what you sound like in every capacity. his mouth works down your neck, pleased to find that suckling wet and languid on a spot just above your collarbone has you writhing and whimpering. are you sensitive or touch-starved? whatever the reason, he wants to draw all of that out of you, his hands drawing back down to hook under your thighs. jeno drags you to the edge of the table, until your bare cunt is flush against the front of his jeans, and he lets you feel him — a brief tease of what’s to come.

“i’m s—so wet already,” you whisper, as if he doesn’t know — as if you know it’s exactly what he wants to hear anyway. “sunbae, please, i need you.”

“not that,” he murmurs, his teeth grazing your collarbone as he speaks. “not sunbae. jeno. call me jeno, angel.”

“jeno,” you exhale shakily, and it’s music to his ears — as if the last thing holding him back from you had shattered.

“that’s it — what a good girl,” he purrs, his hips rocking forward against your pussy before they retract, leaving just enough space for his hand to slip between. slender fingers trail down your folds, sticky and slick. “you are all wet for me, aren’t you? ready to take me deep inside?”

even the way you nod, a tiny movement of assent, drives him wild, yet a part of him still wants to test the limit of your patience, his middle finger stretching to circle your entrance.

“wouldn’t want to shock your tiny little pussy, though, would i? will you let me stretch you out first, kitten?”

“yes,” you mewl, sounding almost tearful. “anything— anything, please.”

jeno drinks in the long, drawn-out keen you set free when his digit sinks into you; he’s already felt your walls against his tongue, but a small part of him is still surprised at just how tight you are. that same part nags that he might not fit easily into you, but whatever that voice is is easily drowned out by a more assertive promise — he’ll make it fit.

“can’t tell you how much i’ve wanted to feel your pretty little hole around my cock,” he presses on, his finger pushing deeper in; he feels you tense a delicious kind of tightness, as if it’s almost too much for you. is it? “ever since that first day you came into the tutoring center, dressed up all cute — did you do that on purpose, sweetheart?”

“yes,” you admit, breathless; the syllable is lengthened into a weak moan as jeno pumps his finger into you, slow, deep strokes that tease your tacky walls open. “wanted — wanted to make a good impression…”

“and you did, didn’t you? kept looking so sweet for me, so pretty every single time — got me thinking about all the ways i wanted to have you. got me so fucking hard every time we’d meet — is that what you wanted?”

jeno doesn’t give you much room to respond, but he can make his own answers to appease himself anyway; he reclaims your lips, already eager for another taste of you, and you comply with the same amount of desire, your soft whimpers melting against his teeth. in the space of pseudo silence, wet, messy noises, he manages to tease another digit into you, and you cry out against his lips as it pushes in, joining the first in how deep it reaches. he absorbs that too, takes in every minute sound you make, relishes the way you pulse around his fingers. even without the noises, he can tell your pleasure’s heightening, with the way you clench around him, your hips rocking pitifully as you’re eager to rut against his palm.

“look at you now.” he’s selfish, but he doesn’t care — he wants to ruin you, and if the telltale squelch of your cunt as he fucks his fingers into it isn’t indication enough, then the way your mouth hangs open as he pulls away, letting his name fall freely from your lips, definitely is. “legs spread, all desperate to feel good for me. what a needy little kitten you are. this good enough for you, angel?”

you shake your head, only to squeal as he pulls you closer, his fingers shoving deeper into you; your hips are re-angled, allowing him to brush the pads of his digits against the rough, sweet spot, and he feels triumph bloom in his chest as you throw your head back, teary eyes squeezed shut.

“no, no, no,” you babble, and he can see the bob of your throat as you swallow hard, clutching at sense to make words. “want — need your cock, want to cum on your cock so badly, jeno — want you to fuck me, stretch me open, please —”

“greedy, aren’t you?” he murmurs, leaning in to nip at the spot he’d left reddened above your collarbone. “go on then — show me how much you want it. show me what a good girl you are, and cum on my fingers.”

“but—”

“come on, angel,” he urges above the squelching noises, increasing surely in volume. his fingers meet resistance when they spread apart inside you, but all it does is create a delicious friction that has you squirming in his hold. “don’t hold back. let me see you fall apart.”

and you do, so prettily, your eyes rolling back and your voice unrestrained. jeno’s fingers ride you through your orgasm, pumping deep and steady despite how slick you’ve gotten, your juices coating his hand and wrist. he watches the flush rise to your neck, stopping at your cheeks, watches the heaving of your chest, the shine of your skin from a thin sheen of sweat, and he doesn’t want to let you come down from this high, but his cock is aching — practically bursting from his jeans — and all he can do is make the silent vow that the next time you look like this, he’ll be balls deep in you.

“that’s my girl,” he coos gently, watching the tension slip from your shoulders; his free hand is at the small of your back quickly, easing you down as your torso falls back, and you’re laying on the table. “pretty little thing, aren’t you? cumming so sweetly for me.”

“jeno,” you groan out weakly, your tiny hand clasping around his wrist. “cock — i want your cock, please—”

“can’t wait?” he’s indecent for sounding amused, but even that does nothing to stay his arousal; how eager you are simply makes him want you all the more. “okay, angel — since you asked so nicely.”

a slight twinge of disappointment runs through him as he pulls his fingers out, but it’s quickly buried by the feeling he gets once he gives you a clear sweep of a once-over; how slutty you look, still half-dressed but already half-ruined, your thighs shaking in an effort to keep them open for him, the remnants of your last climax still leaking out of your hole. the sight of you has him so distracted that unbuttoning and unzipping his pants feels like a fever dream of an act; he barely notices what he’s doing until he’s already bare in front of you, and alertness has crawled halfway back into your consciousness as you push yourself up on your elbows to look at him.

“it’s so—” you have the decency to blush, though there’s a pleased look on your face that tells him you’re not really embarrassed. “i didn’t think you’d be this big.”

“does that worry you?”

“i’ve never had anyone… this big.” pride blooms in his chest — good, he thinks, because if he can’t be as memorable as your first, then he’ll take being the most in something as a prize. “i don’t think — will it fit?”

“does it matter?” he chuckles, and your blush deepens. “no matter what — you’ll take all of me in, won’t you?”

you chew on your bottom lip, as if considering your options, but to jeno, there’s really only one choice — the correct one, and you make it when you nod your head.

“it’ll feel good, though, you know,” he muses. his hand wrapped around his base, he lines himself up with you, the tip grazing against your folds. “even better than just now.”

with just a little more pressure, he has his shaft flush against you; his girth sits against your slit, the tip pressed against your clit, and he starts to rock his hips — into his fist, against your cunt. your hips quiver, and a shiver runs through you as your pleasure spikes again, but he can tell it isn’t enough. your bottom lip is back between your teeth, and your eyes are flitting between his face and his cock. jeno reaches out, eases your lip out from between your teeth, strokes it gently, almost tenderly.

“say it,” he commands in a soft, silky voice.

“fuck me, jeno,” you breathe out, barely missing a beat. “fuck me, fuck my pussy, please.”

and if you ask that desperately, he’ll waste no time; he draws his hips back, dragging his cock down until he’s aligned with your entrance. his eyes are trained on your face, even when he pushes in, so that he can take in your expression — the widening of your eyes as his tip breaches the first wave of resistance, the way your mouth falls agape as his fingers dig hard into your flesh. he’s never seen a prettier sight in his life.

“stretched you out already, but you’re still so fucking tight,” his voice is a soft, melodious croon, a stark contrast to the way he’s forcing past your tightness. “tight and wet, like a good girl.”

“so big,” you whimper, your fingers stretched far enough to tickle the front of his shirt. “can’t — can’t take it.”

“of course you can, angel.” jeno doesn’t give you the time to brace yourself fully before he’s rocking his hips in a little more sharply, his cock now halfway into you. your fingers curl into a little fist, immediately flying back to block the noise from your mouth. “ah ah. don’t get shy on me now; you’ve been so noisy for me all this time.”

but he doesn’t really mind the way you clap your palm over your mouth to muffle your high-pitched squeal as he thrusts in fully, the adjustment period after the last movement close to nothing; he’s too busy focusing on how good you feel around him, how warm and wet your insides are. this is heaven, easily, and jeno wants to stay here for as long as he can.

“god, you’re fucking tight,” he repeats, an appreciatory gaze running over where you’re joined. his thumb stretches over your folds, rubbing them — something of an apology, perhaps, although all it does is stimulate you more, and you shiver at the extra contact. “how deep is it, baby?”

“can feel you here,” you mumble out, your small hand pressing just above your pelvis. he feels the tightness multiply as you place pressure, even just for a moment. “your cock’s so much deeper than anyone else.”

your hand falls away, limp, as he draws his hips back; you inhale, long and deep, before letting it out as a broken moan when he pushes back in. it drives him crazy, to start off this slow, when all he wants is to find a pace that has you sobbing, but the resistance of your pussy against his length isn’t easy to ignore. jeno works you open, his jaw set and his grip tight against your frame, and it isn’t long before he’s picking up speed, the slap of his flesh against yours fueling him exponentially, mingling with your cries, steadily increasing in volume.

“that’s it. let everyone hear you,” he eggs on, his thumb now circling tight around your clit; your legs are quivering, threatening to close, but he keeps you steady, one arm wrapped around your thigh. his thrusts grow rougher, more deliberate, and when he looks up from where you’re joined back to your face, he sees your expression as a mixture of incredulity and ecstasy. a thin line of drool hangs from the corner of your mouth, your pretty pink lip gloss smeared, and fuck if he doesn’t want to make sure you look like this every single time he comes over. “let them know who’s fucking you good, angel.”

“j— jeno!” your voice hitches, lilts up as he presses in at a different, deeper angle, and he almost cums right then and there from the way your walls pulse around him. “your cock feels so good, fucking me just right— more, god, more—”

he complies without hesitation, gathering both your thighs and pushing them closer to your chest; you look even lewder like this, folded in half with your sopping cunt presented to him like it’s all his to take, and it is, isn’t it? there’s an increase in the intensity, the vigor in which he pumps his cock into you, and he knows he’s brushing repeatedly against your spot by the way you’re blubbering his name out in a way that suggests you sincerely think no one else in this building can hear you.

“that’s my girl,” he hums approvingly, though there’s a thickness in his voice that has him sounding a little more strained. “such a good girl, with your cunt all nice and sloppy for me. do you like it when i go this deep? does it feel good when i fuck you where no one else can?”

“yes!” you sob out, your hands crumpling the end of your skirt up into tight fists. “jeno, i— cum, i need to cum again, please—”

“i’ve got you, kitten,” his tone is reassuring, a stark contrast to the rigor of his hips. “don’t have to hang on for me, you know; always love seeing you fall apart.”

“m’close, so close —”

“let go, then,” he urges, his blunt nails digging into your flesh. “let me feel that sweet cunt cum on my cock.”

you comply without hesitation, though if you’d done it willingly, he can’t really tell; he has to pin your hips down to stop you from bucking up and causing him to slip out, and you writhe against him as you sob in ecstasy, your walls fluttering before they clench. stray tears leak from your eyes, squeezed shut, and jeno wants nothing more than to eat you up like this — broken, fucked out.

you’re not even fully down from your high when he feels it — that sudden wrenching in his gut that tells him he’s about to follow suit. with a low groan, he peels your thighs apart again, lets you watch him as he bullies straight into your leaking hole. your voice is a staccato, punctuating every deep, sharp thrust into you, and it’s exactly to that melody that he wants to get off.

“tell me where you want it, angel.” he doesn’t trust his voice, sharp and short as it is now. “should i mark your pretty face? your stomach?”

“want it against my pussy,” you whisper out, and jeno almost loses his mind as he watches you spread your folds apart with your forefinger and middle finger, inviting him. “make a mess of it, sunbae.”

he’s barely able to pull out before he’s spilling against you; he ruts against your slit, coating your folds and the insides of your thighs in thick, creamy white. you hold your legs apart for as long as you can until they start to tremble, and he catches them and gently eases them down.

when you sit up to kiss him, you’re still demanding; he feels your hips rock closer, your sticky cunt pressing against the underside of his cock.

“not enough,” you murmur against his lips, and jeno chuckles as you bind your hands around his neck.

“don’t worry, kitten,” he hums back. “we’ve got all afternoon.”

2K notes · View notes

braindeadjaidyn · 7 months ago

Note

Rafe following his babysitter into the bathroom

Fucking her against the door, holding her mouth closed with his hand

His family just outside in the living room, while he is fing her as hard as he can

BABYSITTERS CLUB!

summary:..-> reader and rafe always had a thing for each other. everything changes once she picks up a babysitting job, babysitting the one and only kook king.

warnings:..-> smut, p n v, bad dirty words, wards a douche, rough sex, rushed sex, both cum quick:(, sex that could’ve got them caught?? EVERYONE IS OF AGE!!!

word count:..-> 2700.

a/n:..-> hello pookie and pookies! okay so don’t be mad….i know I didn’t do the bathroom but I hope this okay! i got tunnel vision and didn’t even realize! im sorry if i edged yall with the constant build up. yall writing sex is HARD. anyway requests are open bye love u. AND BE NICE.

It was almost laughable that Rafe fucking Cameron, kook king needed a babysitter. It WAS laughable. Ward Cameron had contacted you through Facebook knowing of the fact you babysit. Yeah, you did, but not 20-year-old frat guys.

Ward Cameron: Hello Y/n! Your father told me you do babysitting and I’m looking to hire one for tonight! It would be for my son and daughter, it may seem a little odd. My apologies. I will be having some important meetings with a large group, and I don’t trust either to be on their best behavior. Please contact me back so we can discuss further! I’ll pay 500$ for 3 hours.

The message sent you into a fit of cackles, screenshotting the text and sending it to all your friends. The idea was so tempting. So fucking tempting. 500$ for 3 hours was a literal steal…Yet you were going to be in the presence of the insufferable Rafe Cameron. You hadn’t had many interactions with Rafe, he usually just teased you for being the ‘prude good girl’ every time you told him no to hook up. You’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t think about letting him fuck the shit out of you, hell you almost did. Every time you’d open your mouth to try and agree he’d open his spewing his bullshit, immediately forcing you to shut your own.

You bit at the soft flesh on your bottom lip, tapping the phone with your eyes trained on the text. Fuck it. 500$ for keeping the cocky frat boy in line sounded so good, so so fucking good. You agreed, and your thumbs moved quickly over the screen. Your lip was still tucked firmly between your teeth as you waited for his father’s reply.

Y/n L/n: That sounds good! Thank you so much Mr. Cameron! I’ll be there. When should I be there and can I have the address?

Ward Cameron: Of course Y/n! My meeting is in about 40 minutes, I would like you here as soon as possible. I will be here the whole time so I’ll give you a rundown of responsibilities and such when you arrive. *address*.

This soon? You immediately scrambled to your feet, throwing on some more appropriate clothes than your lounge ones. You were so quick you thought your heels were on fire.

Soon enough here you were on the Camerons porch knocking on the front door. Jesus, why did you agree to this? Fuck. The only time you ever interacted with Rafe was when you were fucked up, now here you were sober about to babysit the grown-ass man. This is ridiculous. The door swung open, of fucking course Rafe Cameron was the one to answer it. Sporting his stupid handsome smirk and backward cap. “You’re the one who’s keepin’ me on a leash tonight girl?” He drawled, flashing you his teeth.

Goddamn, his fucking fine ass. You tongued the inside of your cheek, fighting the urge to roll your eyes at his comment. With a tilt of your head and a soft huff, you finally met his gaze. “Just shut up and let me in Cameron,” With that Rafe chuckled, shaking his head as he moved from the door opening it further. You could feel his sharp stare as you walked past him and into the house. You were a little in awe at the niceness but quickly masked it, tucking your face back into its resting expression. Rafe didn’t miss it as he sidestepped around you, his smirk only growing.

“You never been in a house this nice princess?,” Rafe taunted, his smirk replaced with a smug smile.”Come on, my dad’s in here,” He led you further into the home, and you lagged behind. Cursing him internally at his snarky comments. Why was this dude such a diva? You followed aimlessly looking around at the different decor, this was so different from your own house.

Ward Cameron sat on the sofa, his attention on the laptop resting on the marble coffee table, his fingers working against the keys. He just looked like a dick, great….Rafe cleared his throat and shifted on his feet. You picked up his sudden change in demeanor, his once arrogant self replaced with a look that looked like a kicked puppy. It was sad, actually very sad. But you shrugged off your sympathy as Ward glanced up his face lighting up in foe friendliness. “Y/n my dear. Thank you for coming,” Ward greeted, closing the distance between the three. “Right well, I'm having a large meeting this evening. Lots of colleagues and other investors are joining me today. We will be using the living room, my office would be far too cramped. I’m just asking you to keep an eye on everyone and out of the living room.”

This man just screamed condescending. You nodded, sending him a soft smile. Once again you fought the urge to roll your eyes, how did he expect his grown son to listen to her? He was Rafe Cameron. It was widely known he doesn’t listen to anyone. “Yes sir, I can do that.” You spoke softly and sweetly, it was an act yet you wanted that 500$. Rafe sent you another smirk before he licked his lips to keep his dirty comment to himself. Ward nodded, reaching out to softly pat your shoulder. He quickly pulled away, and you fought the urge to jerk away. “Great! Well, Rafe behave. You’re 20 years old. It’s ridiculous that I had to even hire her.” Ward shot his son a pointed look, which made Rafe emotionally cower. Rafe just firmly nodded, his arms folded over his chest. You had to divert your gaze, your cheeks heating as you noticed how his shirt sleeves were straining against his muscles. Fuck.

A firm rushed knock at the front door thankfully interrupted your sinful thoughts. Ward immediately jerked his head to the noise, moving past the young adults. “Right, that's my meeting. So see you both later.” Ward called as he barely bothered looking over his shoulder at the two. He disappeared out of the living, and you could feel Rafe's eyes on you. Jesus Christ, does he have an off button? You met his gaze, surprised to see it was blank. “What?” You questioned, your face slightly twisted and your eyebrow arched.

Rafe just sighed deeply, running his hand over his cap. “Let’s get upstairs before he throws a bitch fit,” Rafe muttered, his body already moving toward and up the stairs. You followed, your heart beating wildly. It felt weird how domestic? No. Casual. Yeah, how casual this was. His long legs ate away at the distance of the stairs, you lagged behind feeling a little awkward by everything. I mean you’re fucking babysitting Rafe Cameron and his little sister, it was weird. You made your way to the top of the steps, glancing at him awkwardly for his next move. You could already hear the chatter from the men downstairs.

“Quit actin’ all fuckin shy girl, Les’ go Sarah’s in here,” Rafe smirked his head cocking over to a door, his hand pulling the door open. “How’s it hangin’ Sar?,” You were now standing in the doorway of what you assumed was a movie room, you knew they were rich but they were richhh. Sarah barely glanced up from her phone at the duo, shrugging her shoulders in response. Rafe plopped down on one of the sofas, legs spread open as he looked you over. “Sooo, are you always this weird when you're sober princess?”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at his words. He was so damn cocky and for what? You scowled at him, your pretty face twisting. “Do you always need a babysitter at your grown age?” You snarked, your hands crossing over your chest and you shifted your weight to your hip. Rafe took notice of that and eyed your hip for a moment, chuckling as he tongued the inside of his cheek.

“Real cute baby, don’t be throwin’ that up in my face.” Rafe rasped, his eyes looking over you cocking his brow at the fact you were still standing in the doorway. He patted the cushion next to him, a smirk on his lips. “Don’t be shy princess, I won't bite.”

You thought for a moment before begrudgingly plopping yourself down next to him. It was a small couch, so small you were brushing thighs with him. You averted your gaze as you felt your cheeks flush at the contact. You knew he was planning something, you could feel it in his stares. Rafe was planning something, more so just thinking about fucking you stupid over the armrest of the couch. He was going to hell for what he was about to ask, especially with Sarah in the room. He leaned forward, bracing his hand on the top of the couch. Rafe's chest was flush against your shoulder, his head ducked down by your ear fanning his breath down your neck. “Why won’t you let me fuck you princess?”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, his breath sending your mind into overdrive. You bit your lip, adjusting your skirt to try and compose yourself. You were bright red and you could feel it, you could also feel the ache between your legs at his tone. You had to remind yourself Sarah was in the room. You looked over at him and felt like you could melt when you met his smug gaze. “I mean..I-I would-,“ Your voice was low and quiet, careful for Sarah's listening ears, but before you could finish Sarah's dramatically loud groan and the thump of her phone cut you off. You were so down bad.

“The fuc- The wifi just went out, ugh. Rafe fix it,” Sarah whined, looking at her older brother with pleading eyes. The only issue was the router was in the living room. Rafe sighed deeply at the interruption, glancing over at Sarah with narrowed eyes.

Rafe definitely couldn’t go down there and fuck with the router with his dad having a meeting. It was the whole point why Y/n was there. But he could get her downstairs and alone…So tempting in his pervy brain and worth a shot. “Fine. Come on Y/n. Be my cover.”

Seriously? He was going to go down there, practically asking for a meltdown from his dad. Before you could protest he had you by the forearm and dragged you out of the movie room. “Rafe-“ You went to speak but he cut you off as he pressed his finger to his lips, silently shushing you as the two of you crept down the stairs. You both met at the bottom of the stairs, the living room just around the corner, a wall protecting the view of the duo. The laughs and voices of multiple men were slightly muffled from the distance.

You crept forward, keeping close to the wall not without shooting Rafe a pointed look. You were falling right into his dirty trap, just like he wanted. His mind only focused on fucking that cunt and your interrupted words. Before you could peek over the corner he pressed your back flush against the wall, his body eliminating the distance as he pressed his front to yours. He smirked down at you, his eyes roving over you like you were prey. “Finish your sentence, pretty girl.” He commanded, his voice low, careful to not attract anyone’s attention.

Your mouth opened to speak but the words were lost in your throat. Your mind was spinning at the closeness, your pussy was practically pleading. You could only hold his intense stare, his hand snaking around to grip the back of your thigh. “Say it. Tell me you want this dick baby.” Rafe cooed his mouth coming to your ear, his lips brushing the skin. Fuck this. You were already soaked from his touch, his words only increased the throb. You couldn’t believe what you were about to do, but it was Rafe fucking Cameron…

You nodded weakly, hands fisting his shirt as you lifted the thigh he grasped. “I want it, please.” You wanted to smack yourself for the desperation in your tone, but you never wanted to get fucked like you did now. Rafe pounced, his lips immediately crashing into yours. It was sloppy and full of need. God, he kissed like a fucking whore. You couldn’t help but mewl against his lips, your body felt like it was on fire. His hands were everywhere, leaning his body against yours as his hands grabbed the flesh of your ass from under your skirt. Which earned him another soft mewl, yet it was muffled by his soft lips. He rutted himself against you, god this was so nasty. So down bad. But you were fucking loving it. So was Rafe.

He pulled away, his chest heaving with heavy deep breaths. His lips were wet, and he looked sinful. You moved your hands to the waistband of his shorts, working away the button and zipper. You couldn't help it truly. Rafe liked your eagerness, his ego inflated as well as his dick. “Needy fuckin’ girl.” Rafe tsked lowly, assisting you as he tugged away down his shorts, his hands moving to the waistband of his boxers, he couldn’t help but smirk at your reaction to the tent in his boxers. Your eyes were wide, pretty lips parted in need. He freed himself from the boxers, fisting his cock as he looked you over. Fuck. He was so hot. You took this as your cue, you moved your panties to the side. This wasn’t the best spot to get caught fully exposed…

“Rafe…What if someone- fuck- mph-“ You whispered, cut off by Rafe thrusting his cock into you his hand clamping over your mouth. He kept his other hand on the back of your thigh, as he pounded into you. His cock was moving in your slick walls at a relentless pace, his fat tip brushing areas you never knew existed.

Rafe had his lips parted, his head hung back as your pussy clenched tightly around him. He kept his hand firmly clasped around your mouth, he smooshed the side of your face into the wall, his cock fucking into you at an unforgiving pace. The sound of your pelvis’s kissing was sinful. “Take it, take this fat dick,” Rafe growled lowly, his eyes glancing to the corner of the wall as he heard a couple of men speak louder.

You couldn’t even muster a response, let alone voice it due to his harsh grip around your mouth. You could only pathetically whine and cry against his palm, as his cock brushed that spongy spot deep into you. Your teeth grazed the flesh of his hand as he repositioned his thrusts, fucking you upwards against the wall. You clawed at his arms, your cunt squeezing tightly around his cock. God, you couldn’t believe how close he had gotten you so quickly. Your lower stomach burned with need, your core aching for release. You could tell Rafe was close, his brows knitted and his lip tucked between his teeth. His cock twitched in your velvety walls, he dropped his hand from your thigh moving his fingers to firmly rub your clit. You bit at the flesh of his hand, hoping to muffle your screams as you crashed over the edge. Your body trembling, eyes rolled back as you made a mess on his fat cock. You clamped down on his cock as Rafe let out a deep groan, planting his cock deep into you as he painted your womb with his warm cum. Your chest heaved with fast shaky breaths, you just let Rafe Cameron fuck you against a wall, while his father and however many men were on the other side.

Rafe pulled out of you, a sly smile on his lips. He pulled your panties back to the side and tucked himself back into his boxers with a chuckle. He held your wide blown-out gaze as he pulled his shorts up. “You’re a shit babysitter princess.”

964 notes · View notes

thesharktanksdriver · 2 months ago

Text

Devils may love?: thirst for connection, tearful goodbyes and trying despite the odds

Here’s part 2 by popular demand! I’m gonna start writing dmc1 soon and I shall be making a masterlist for this. Btw, comment if you’d like to added to a tag list or comment to give me ur opinions because I shall very much appreciate it and I love answering questions or geeking out over stuff especially with dmc now lol.

Links for: Masterlist, Part 1, part 3, part 4

Your not sure how your still alive

At this point its illogical

Vergil has the amulet and knows Dante will come after him no matter if he even has you alive anymore

So why are you still alive currently?

Not that your complaining per say but your severely confused

Even that Arkham guy seems to be thinking it as well

Speaking of which the more you look at him the more familiar he looks

You can’t quite place it though

But it’s something with his face that’s familiar

Well it’s something you’d rather not think to hard about when the guy is stabbed in front of you by Vergil

If your opinion of Arkham was bad before hearing he literally sacrificed his wife to become powerful or something certainly made you internally cheer as he fell to the floor

Blood pooling around him as Vergil remarks he has no use for the man anymore

And yet

“Keep moving, lest I have to carry you again”

It stirs you from your thoughts as the twin looks at you

Wordlessly you nod, stepping past arkhams body

When Vergil turns he doesn’t see you drip your foot in the man’s blood

Intentionally leaving a trail for Dante to find

“If….if you killed him can you kill the jester next?”

Whatever Vergil expected you to say it seems like that wasn’t what he thought

Though you hope your unpredictability is seemingly a factor keeping you alive

“Jester?” He scoffs “you mean my brother?”

At that you can’t help but raise and eyebrow “no, I mean the weird ass jester demon. The one with the long nose, and annoying penchant for appearing out of nowhere. Have you not had to deal with his annoying nagging yet?”

“Evidently no since if I had we wouldn’t be having this conversation”

“Fair. restrains or no restrains though, I will be finding out a way to curb stomp him if he pops out of nowhere again”

“You’re a human. If he’s a demon your too weak to kill him let alone make a dent”

You shrug at that “I might be nothing more than an insect to him…but it doesn’t hurt to at least try. That’s all we can ever really do anyways. Keep trying even if it’s meaningless because there’s nothing else we can do. It’s what I do anyways. Things get hard, parents kick you to the curb yelling to never come back unless you decide to give up your “useless” dreams and everything looks like shit” pausing for a moment you can’t help but smile “keep trying even though every job turns you away and you have to drop out of school to try and get a full time job to afford a roof over your head and food…and despite it all you find a sketchy job advertisement for a business without a proper name yet and somehow end up with the most obnoxious idiot with a heart of gold as your boss who annoyingly calls you “honeypie”. And even if his family drama gets you wrapped up in getting kidnapped and brought to a demon tower, you keep trying even when the situation is against you. Because maybe that’s all you have”

Vergil stays silent after that, just ends up tugging you closer as he leads you to wherever he’s headed

Somehow trauma dumping on him was kinda reliving even if he would probably kill you later

Best get shit off your chest than leave it bubbling in you

A trail of red follows behind you for your red coat idiot to hopefully find you

Fortunately if you did make it out of the your now a pro at washing out blood so your shoes would probably be ok

Walking closely behind Vergil the two of you enter a large chamber

Carved stone and a chiseled floor lead to the centre of the room

And at that centre was a circular basin?

Your not really sure how to describe it

Or this place in general

The tower was old, that was certain with its general architecture and material wise

But walking though the place there was also an odd sense of foreign technological aspects to it

It was definitely too advanced for humans especially at the time it seemed like it was erected 2000 years back or so

So with that logic it was likely demonic related

Which made sense considering the purpose of the tower in the first place

A thrumming sound echos before that of heavy footsteps that makes you turn around just as Vergil does

A demon, a big looking one as well that walked on all 4

“I found you, seed of Sparda!. I told you that I remembered your rancid scent! No matter where you run to. You can never hide from me! And what’s this? A human pest as well?” It walks forward, bloody red eyes bleeding out as a singular curved horn tilted along with its head movements.

Before you have much time to react its claw comes down towards you and Vergil, but the blue half-demon pushed you back as he jumped to eliminate his threat

You watched him fight Dante atop the tower and seen his cut down smaller demons on the way here, but seeing him fight truly was something

Clean slices compared to Dante’s showy flare

Landing atop the demon as it crumbled beneath his feet

“Y-you are not the one I faced before…but this smell…there are two of them! That excrement of Sparda had two sons!”

“Yeah bud, you didn’t figure that out by looking at him. He didn’t just change wardrobe-“

A clink of a sword and its head splits leaving a gushing waterfall of blood to spill onto the ground

Vergil flips off its back, now back to your side

A glow emits from the body, blue and blinding

Vergil extends out a hand and it pulls itself to him

Seemingly absorbing it a pair of gauntlets and boots that keep their blinding glow

You can only watch what happens next

Vergil shows off and kinda plays? With his new weapons??? Like Dante does???

He kicks around the demons corpse and shows off his new gear

All while you watch dumbfounded

You also swear he’s watching your reaction?

Getting a small flicker of pride after another show of moves?

Was this like…a fear tactic or something?

A threat to keep you in line and not to run?

Because you already weren’t going to do that

Not when demons crawled around and every corner and for some reason he still needed you alive and eliminated them

Why would you leave when at least for now he was your reluctant bodyguard?

A spray of feathers waft around in the air and cascade down around you as Vergil watches your reaction

Yet again for something?

His brow twitches and his near permanent scowl returns, maybe you didn’t look afraid enough?

Two perfect halves of a beautiful red stone combine to make one

Two remnants of a mother lost come together in the worse way possible

Blood rains down the ceiling into a small pool in the middle of the circular room

You and Vergil watch with anticipation

Gritting your teeth waiting for something

Anything big to happen

And yet nothing

You wait for a solid minute with the very quickly becoming agitated Vergil

And nothing

The irritation and anger rolling off him is palpable in waves that rivalled tsunamis

You smartly make the decision to try and take a few precautionary steps away

Especially as he mutters to himself if maybe more blood was needed

You take a particularly large step away at that comment

Shit, maybe while he was in this mindset you could slip away

Dante was surely not too far behind-

An arm slides itself in a familiar manner across your shoulders

Nearly instantly making your stress melt away as red leather and the overwhelming scent of blood, sweat, gunpowder and cheap cologne invade your senses��

You’d never thought you’d be this happy to smell Dante’s disgusting ass work Oder

Something that he knew got on your nerves when he got back from a job and would chase you around trying to give you a big hug

Just so you could smell the disgusting mix of scents under the excuse of “come here and give me some sugar, i missed you honeypie. Oh how the hours dragged on and on from my departure-“

Every time he did it you had half the mind to choke him out but instead you alternated to spritzing him with water like a cat

It worked surpassingly well

He even ended up hissing sometimes like a disgruntled cat, though you assumed that was either his inhuman traits peaking out or him playing along with the bit

The ropes that rubbed so uncomfortably against your wrists the entire time that it slowly became a numbing pain

It’s notable though when the rope is cut and falling to the floor with a small thud

Allowing you to see the redness of chaffed skin that would probably blister

Before Dante addresses his brother he seems to take a careful moment to look you over

Blue eyes tracing your body though not with his usual joking flirtatious edge

This time it’s worry

Anxiety that looks too foreign to be on his overly confident face

You step behind him when the two begin a verbal exchange

A verbal exchange that once more become psychical while you watch again from the sidelines

Mentally halfway through you kinda check out from the exhaustion

It’s been a way too long…however many hours you’d been stuck here

To be fair you had better things to worry about like survival than trying to figure out just how long you’d been kidnapped

And then an unfamiliar shot rings out

Not from ebony or ivory

But instead a new smoking barrel from a familiar face beside you

Two toned eyes stare at you in a mixture of surprise and confusion

Holy shit-

“Mary?! The hell are you doing here?!?”

“We’ll talk later.” She briefly looks at you but then directs her angered gaze to Vergil “You force my father into this and kidnap my friend?!”

she joins the fray despite being told off by Dante

Joining in on the battle with a certain rage in her eyes

Two toned eyes that you now realize were the same as Arkham’s

You think you now get why she talked about her mom and not her creepy ass dad

Wait that means that means her mom was-

Clapping then rings out

The familiar grating voice of the jester filling the stone chamber

His annoying voice mocking Mary and then Vergil as he makes quick work of the two

And in the brightly coloured demons place once more is Arkham

Keeping up the creepy performance before changing back to the jester and slamming her face into the ground

You yell out for her, wanting to race over but Dante holds you back

A look in his eyes that makes you pause

exhaustion that rivalled your own

He’s been fighting whatever was thrown at him up to this point

Stabbed, impaled, clawed, shot at and everything else your mind can picture

Not to mention him just duking it out with Vergil moments before the clowns arrival

As the long nosed bastard pointed out, their both weak

Something even more apparent as he then curb stomps Dante into the ground

The impact of which sends you flying to the floor like everyone else in the room

He switches back to the bald bastard

Explaining why it didn’t work despite the two halves of the amulet and some sort of blood of Sparda

Apparently they needed the blood of a priestess just as Sparta did to seal off the demon world

Something that is then quickly remedied with the bastard stabbing his own daughter in the leg to obtain it

Because she had the blood of that sacrificed priestess, due to her being that woman’s descendant

Red streams through the small canals in the floor of the room to the centre

Pooling like a ruby lake

He monologues more as the jester about his plan of making sure everyone duked it out

Then turning to you with a yellowed grin

Apparently he kept you around as an entertainment factor but grew tired of how Vergil kept you alive for some reason

Something he chides the half demon for

But he’s tired of you

The one rogue misstep in his elaborate scheme

Something he was going to make quick work of correcting if not for the 3 others in the room getting the jump on him

But a red glow fills the room

A platform rises and he ascends as everything shifts

He kicks the others off the stage but you

Leaving you clinging to consciousness as it ascends

You reach out a hand with blurred vision hoping for anyone to grab it

At the top of the tower Arkham boasts of becoming the new god of this world

Statues surround the circular platform as he struts around

But not before giving you a good kick in the gut

The strength of which sends you rolling across and hitting the pole that begins a mechanism to pull up several bells

Bells you’d once thought to be statues

Looking behind you see city lights twinkle like stars dotting the night sky

Clouds circling around

How you haven’t yet died from the oxygen being thin is beyond you but you attribute it to either demon nonsense or adrenaline pushing you past average the human limit

Maybe both

Blood spills out your mouth in painful coughs

Of course he had to aim for the lungs

And while you cough he says you should be grateful

Grateful to see the new god of this world before he ends your existence

Grateful you get to be the first sacrifice of many

Grateful he’ll do it in front of Dante to give you a chance to say goodbye

What an ass

The sky shifts as he names the seven deadly sins

A hellish portal opening up above and letting red aura flow down into him

Surrounding him as the wind howls and demon screeches join in a symphony

He begins to float and your left to cling to the support holding the bell

His laugh echoing out as he ascends

It makes your stomach curdle

Doesn’t help afterwards that you begin to follow him upwards as well

You nearly puke

Son of a bitch-

The demon world isn’t what you expect it to look like

Less fire and brimstone with the scent of rotten eggs and smoke

But more like weird impressionist painting of jutting stone, flowing water, diamond-like sky and purple

Just purple

Blue and red

A irony not lost on you

It would’ve made you laugh in a mixture of hysteria and dread if you weren’t 90% sure that his kick earlier broke a rib and it was currently jabbing slightly into your lung

Something even more apparent when you drop down and land harshly on a jutting slab of stone

Talk about a rough landing

And rough time for your lung because that rib has definitely now punctured it a bit more

Dear god if you survive this your hospital bills were gonna be abysmal

Arkham stands not far away in the form of some sort of demon

Large imposing horns and insect-like wings

He monologues about how this was Sparda’s true form

It explains why Dante who just joined the show seems less than amused at the spectacle

Even having the nerve to call him a backed up toilet

That gets a laugh from you, a laugh you regret a moment later when you nearly cough up a lung

Damn your hysteria making stupid decisions

And damn Dante for actually being funny for once

The fight between them is a blur once more

Clashes of swords

Yada yada

Your vision is getting a bit more blurry than you’d like to think about

Black dots appearing at the edges of your sight

But you find the will to stand

To get up

To try

Because what else can you do beside laying there

This entire time you couldn’t do anything but be a punching bag, hostage, potential therapist and yelling for Dante

If you were gonna die you might as well die trying

You get up just in time to see the fucked up copy of dante’s dad melt away into some amorphous blob of spasming shape

Purple and glowing

And plain ugly and kinda more pathetic than anything

This is what he spent years obsessing over

What he scarified his wife for

What he nearly killed his daughter for

God you hated this guy more than anything right now and all you wanted was to see him die

And by god would you try to kill that fucking clown if it was the last thing you’d do

“Dante! Got any spare guns?”

Briefly turning away from his fight with the blob he sends you a smirk “Sure thing honeypie! Curtesy of lady!”

He throws you the weapon you’d seen Mary with earlier, some sort of canon. Her blood still stains the bayonetta in which Arkham stabbed her in the leg with, a reminder of who’s place your also fighting for “this one time I’ll let that slip! Don’t think it’ll happen again though you ass!”

With Dante taking an up close and personal approach it distracts Arkham from you

Too occupied clearing the bigger threat than the sniper

But that doesn’t mean it isn’t messing him up

You aim with your admittedly unsteady vision when he’s about to get a hit on Dante

Distracting him enough for the red coat devil to evade and get a hit in

Dante can’t help but make a few quips here and there

Somehow finding ways to make even the shitiest of situations the butt of the joke

It was perhaps his greatest talent

And perhaps his greatest cooping mechanism

Though beside trauma responses you’d 100% agree the complete joke of what was Arkham

The punchline though is when Vergil arrives just in time

Putting aside even his weird rivalry with Dante to beat arkhams ass

Though not enough to not talk about retrieving his rightful power

Baby steps?

Well whatever it’s something you guess

At least he isn’t stabbing Dante again and hurtling down into hell with you thrown over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes

The two work together nearly seamlessly to take him down

Stabbing into the blob that is Arkham as you shot yet another shot at him

All this combines in making him flail around

The twins push their respective swords through him to the others side

Either grabbing the others sword

Hacking and slashing once more at the pathetic excuse for something that was once a man

With only a shot left you line up a your final shot despite how shaky your body is

Waiting at the right moment as the twins of Sparda slice at him once more

And you pull the trigger

Sending yet another explosive shot at him

He screams out

Dange pulls out ebony and ivory, spinning them before looking briefly over his shoulder to send you a smirk

It gives Arkham enough time to send ebony out his hand though luckily Vergil takes it

Sending his brother an unimpressed look

But still sending the briefest of glances your way for a split moment

A smirk on his face as well no matter how minuscule it was

“I’ll try it your way for once”

“Remember what what we used to say?”

“DoNt dO iT”

“Do it!”

Vergil crosses ebony over ivory, you see both twins smirk

“Jackpot”

The bullets swirl around one another like ribbons

Creating a blinding light as they collide into Arkham

His final words once more about having the power of Sparda

He dies like a pathetic loser, shocking really

The man who obsessed over a dead guy for years, sacrificed his wife and attempted to kill his daughter died as a pathetic blob

You have to agree with Vergils dry remark of his final words not being classy

It gets a chuckle from you as you scale down the stone debris while ebony is tossed back to Dante

The odd spirit water surges around your ankles as Arkham melts away

Becoming nothing in the end, a fitting fate for someone like him

Above a gaping hole where the water pours into The two amulets and a sword fall into a abyss that both of them jump into

But not before Vergil grabs you to drag you in with him

Again

“Motherfucker again?!? Come on-“

The moment Vergil’s feet splash on solid ground your let go off and fall very not so gracefully to the ground

He runs to the sword before Dante can get it

Pulling it from the ground and gazing at Dante’s half of the amulet that his twin was able to snatch

Two pairs of Blue eyes narrowing at one another

“Give that to me” he extends out his hand motioning for the amulet

At that Dante looks at the necklace before tucking it behind him “no way, you got your own”

Children, both these men were god damn children

Getting up from the demon water you safely decided to limp off to the side

You smell a fight coming just like how you can smell rain before it pours

You’ve gotten your wish of helping kill the clown, now your letting them finish their business

It already felt as if you were intruding as it was

Better not get involved

“Well I want yours too” the sword is pointed out to Dante as the two circled one another

“What are you gonna do with all that power, huh? No matter how hard you try, your never gonna be like father” that taunt even from your distance seemed to piss off Vergil royally with how you see his grip tighten on the demon blade

“You’re wasting time!” He makes the first move, running with the blade held ready to strike yet there’s no clang of metal hitting one another hitting your ears all the while water coursed passed them, rushing off the cliff down into the unknown of hell itself. Instead both caught the others swords with their bare hands.

“We are the sons of Sparda!” Both begin to push the others blade back “within each of us flows his blood but more importantly his soul!”

At that both successfully push the other away

Sending water spraying everywhere

For a moment Dante’s eyes connect with your own

You see a spark in them you hadn’t seen once before

“And now my soul is saying it wants to stop you!”

“Unfortunately our souls are at odds brother” Vergil raises at hand up to his eye level clenching it dramatically as he continued “I need more power”

Did these two both go to acting school at some point?

Was being melodramatic as hell a demon thing?

Because this was borderline Shakespeare level dramatics

Or maybe you were hallucinating this due to the blood loss

Or because you were tired as all hell

Or maybe because you weren’t paid enough to deal with this-

“And we’re supposed to be twins”

“Twins…right”

They might not see it but you can definitely see how their both twins with how overly dramatic this all was-

Blades clash and the smell of iron and gun smoke fill the air

Blood flies

And your left to watch it all from the sideline

The adrenaline was beginning to ware off as the pain of your body sets in

Every breath felt like glass was pressing in your lungs

Jabbing at every inhale and exhale

Blood being coughed out in between the flurry of gunshots and swords clashing

God this sucked

You think back at your entire life up until this moment and wonder if this was worth it all

Back to your childhood filled with expectations already laid on your shoulders

The loneliness of parents who brushed your passions aside in favour of a letter on a piece of paper determining your worth to them

The way in which high school was stress upon stress with few things to relive it

Things like Mary’s company and the few electives you got to chose of your own volition

No complicated science equations or mathematical formulas to memorize

Just your own passions

Like that poetry class

And then it comes back to that night

Collage applications in their hands that they tore in front of your face

The ones you had picked on your own

The fighting with your parents

The way they threw you out without so much as a second thought

Just saying to come back when you became sensible

When you’d abandon your dreams to pursue what they’d decide for you

How you could see in their eyes they expected you to come grovelling back after about a week

Begging for them to take you back in

But then came that rush of resentment

You wouldn’t let them win

So you moved on

Tried to live because that’s all you could try to do

Even if it meant dropping out in 12th grade to try and find a job to cover for an apartment and necessities

Even if it meant abandoning everything else to at least try and make ends meet

Even if it meant getting rejected from place to place until you found that fateful advertisement

And the pain in the ass of a boss you were currently watching brawl with his brother

The same boss who made you laugh

Who walked you home on late nights and looked after you that one time you got sick

The red coat wearing idiot who’d always offer you a slice of pizza or spoonful of his strawberry sundae

Grinning all the while

The boy a the same age as you yet had lived more than a lifetimes worth of fear and trauma, the same one who’d cling to you in moments of silence like you were his only lifeline

And maybe he was yours as well

Anchoring you when all the thoughts of doubt began to set in

Of what you lost when leaving home

But then pulling you back to realize you didn’t loose much at all besides Mary

Because you never really had a home, nor parents or security

You just had yourself and the weight on your back

A weight now gone letting you decide what you wanted to do

No matter how stupid it was to stay at a store that still didn’t have a proper name

No matter how idiotic it was to stay with Dante with the risk because

He was the one person who hadn’t abandoned you

Who didn’t give up to save you from this nightmare tower

Maybe if you’d stayed with your parents your life wouldn’t have ended up this way

You’d be stuck as a lawyer or doctor but you’d have avoided this

Probably later on settled down at 25 with a match they’d set you up with

Expecting grandkids by 29 or something

All the while you lived like with a good paying job and maybe a decent person you’d have to deal with for at least the next 40 years

Yet Somehow the thought of that left you more unhappy than your circumstances now even with all the pain

Because for as shitty as this all was you’d at least lived for yourself for once

Taken the reigns of your life in your hands instead of them being in another

And you didn’t regret that

Not one bit

Hell, the only thing you regretted was not punching Arkham in his stupid jester face

Because even if you died here in pain and coughing up a lung

At least you died knowing it was your own choices leading up to here and not those of your parents

And that was a lot more satisfying than anything

Especially when you got to meet the dumbass you called both a boss and friend named Dante, meet Mary again and talk about poetry once more

Somehow that had made you happier than anything

Water splashes once more yet there’s no more clatter of swords and your attention is diverted to Vergil kneeling in the muddied water

Blood mixes in it

Though your unsure if it’s from your own or a mix from both from the showdown between brothers

Either way it runs down past Vergil to Dante at the edge of the waterfall

This felt like the end of this all

With heavy difficulty you get up, using a stone pillar to support yourself

“Am I….being defeated?” It’s uttered in disbelief as he stares down into the waters reflection

“What’s wrong? Is that all you got?” Dante moves forward in a mix of mocking and anger, “come on get up, you can do better than that”

With shaky legs you move toward the red stained twin, nearly toppling over when the ground rumbled beneath your feet.

“The portal to the human world is closing Dante.” Briefly he looks to you, something flashing in icy blue eyes as you stood a few feet from Dante using Mary’s gun to keep yourself propped up“because the amulets have been separated”

“Let’s finish this Vergil” there’s a pause “I have to stop you. even if that means killing you”. The look in his eyes is something akin to pure conviction and yet in the small shake of his grip you could see the hesitation he steeled away.

You remember the nights in which Dante would tell you about him and his brother when they were younger

He bragged he’d always won when they’d fight with wooden swords

His bravado and general overconfidence made you remark sarcastically that you were sure that had happened

Getting in response an arm thrown around your shoulder and him resting his head atop yours

A complaint of falling from his mouth yet he still looked satisfied with himself

The same grin

The same blue eyes that peaked past untamed white hair with a certain nostalgic haze

Yet now those eyes hardened themselves

And you can’t help but both hope and dread if he was right

If he really won all those matches as a kid when Vergil readies his blade and Dante readies his own

They charge

Boots creating large splashes

Water rushing past them

Dante running away from you and Vergil headed to your direction near the edge

Both yell while charging yet all you can focus on is the water and sickening slash

Metal glimmers at the perfect angle to create a horizontal line of light

And then red

Red spews across the air and mixes once more into the water

With baited breath you wait and neither move

Until the pained groan of Vergil stumbles from his lips and his necklace clatters along with the blades

He picks it up as Dante puts away his sword

Vergil takes a step back

Clutching the necklace in a near crushing intensity

Trying to convince him this isn’t the way would be for naught with him

Vergil is someone who’d died of his own stubbornness and with his ideals

It’s something both maddening and something you can’t help but respect in a odd way

“No one can have this Dante. It’s mine, it belongs to a son of Sparda!” He takes more steps back towards the edge, shit no-

“Don’t do it!” Despite the pain you push forwards, despite the fact you know you won’t convince him, once more you try

Dante realizes what he’s about to do as well, surging forwards as you did but you’re both met with blade pointed to your necks. “Leave me and go, if neither of you want to be trapped in the demon world” eyes flicked between you and his brother as he clutches the amulet tightly “I’m staying, this place was our fathers home”. He gets closer to the edge, nearing the tip off point. He leans back as you and Dante move forwards, hands outstretched to try and grab him. Though one is cut whilst the other is left untouched.

Staring down as he’s encompassed by the unknown of hell you keep your eyes locked with his. Though he was an ass, an egocentric focused on a vain goal of his own pride you still can’t help but cry for him as your knees hit the hard rock and you reach your hand out despite the fact he’s too far gone to save. Because for as much as he detested his humanity, he was undoubtedly human in the most tragic sense. He was human in his pain, human in his hate, human in the way he held a passion for old poetry and longed for connection even if he’d never admit it. And he was certainly human when in the last moments before he disappeared into darkness his eyes stared deep into your own. Widening ever so slightly at the fact you still outstretched your hand to him, that you cried for him despite it all.

In those eyes in those last moments you see the human longing for companionship, of not wanting to be alone anymore. Whilst in your tear stained ones he sees the truth of the matter. You wanted to save him. Both here as he plunged into hell and back when you warned him of opening Pandora’s box, you did it because you wanted to save him. Because For some foolish reason you cared for him.

(And that sticks with him far more than you’d ever know)

Blood stains your shoulder as he places a hand on it

The one Vergil sliced yet was healing and closing into a faded memory if not for the slice on the glove as well

It snaps you from staring down into darkness, hand still reaching to grasp a hand that you’d never hold

It closes tightly, leaving crescent indents in your palm

“Let’s go” his words remain empty. Gone is his usual playfulness or lighthearted tone. Just empty and desolate.

Quietly you nod, getting up once more despite the pain with a small grimace

You’d rather not let him know right now how injured you are

He lost his brother again for fucks sake

Hiding your limp and the strain of carrying Mary’s weapon you watch him pick up the sword he and Vergil raced to obtain earlier

It’s not triumphant in any sort of way

It’s just a tragedy

One giant tragedy of two brothers

The sky back home is darkened by clouds as the destruction of the tower and demons loom like a veil of grief

Wind blows through now abandoned buildings

And silence permeates just about everything besides yours and Dante’s footsteps

You nearly cry when you see Mary

Her mismatched gaze locking with yours after a brief moment of surprise

“Phew, What an ordeal” Dante acts nonchalant but you know he’s hiding his hurt. Mary’s canon is slung over his shoulder after he saw you struggle in carrying it awhile back. “You’re still here?”

“I need that back” her eyes leave yours to linger on her canon before returning to you “and I need some answers from you later”. You nod, and Dante goes to hand her back the canon-

He pulls back at the last second “no late charges I hope. I also let them borrow it as well though seems like they already have the friend discount”

Mary hums, “I’ll think of your charge. But for them it’s free”. Getting back her weapon she handle it with care, slinging it onto her back.

Dante moves and you stand beside him watching the sky, “we should be fine for now. But I’m sure they’ll be back soon, very soon”. Your hand grips his coat sleeve, and you feel his arm shake slightly.

“Are you crying?”

“It’s only the rain” the answer is immediate and yet despite the cloudy sky no water poured.

“The rain stopped already Dante” it comes more like a pained wheeze which gains a concerned look from both of them. They look like they’re gonna stop their conversation but you just grin in a silent gesture for them to continue. they need this, Dante needs this, and you won’t let yourself be the reason they stop.

“Devils never cry”

“I see….maybe somewhere out there even a devil may cry when he loses a loved one. Don’t you think?”

“Maybe…” there’s the slightest bit of hope in the response that makes you smile ever so slightly as you grip on his coat goes slack and your legs give out.

Distantly you hear both of them yell your name before succumbing to darkness.

As a kid the only activity your parents signed you up for that you enjoyed in any capacity was choir

It was a pastime that had you away from under their thumb

A small haven from the empty crypt you called a home

It felt nice being apart of something as a collective and not on a stage alone with the spotlight solely on you

All the other activities they had signed you up for were individual

So the attention was on you constantly

If you messed up it would be noticed

And if you faltered for even a moment their eyes would scowl from the crowd

But in choir it was different, You harmonized with others

Joining together no matter how small your role was to create a beautiful symphony of noise that echoed in the halls

A lot of what you remember is just vague notes and melodies

Latin dripping from your tongue and becoming garbled to the sands of time

But you can’t help but think back to one song though

It was old and fractured and broken

You couldn’t remember the lyrics but you did remember the melody and solemn organ

your choir teacher at the time insisted you all try it

At least to give it a chance despite its broken nature

That melody of garbbled sounds you’ll never know the meaning to stuck with you in the depths of your mind

And even when you forgot how you knew the melody in the first place it had remained

That minute long chorus into some greater song dances in your mind once more

You hum to it

Singing with it as though you were back in those piers in white robes and little angel wings

A halo of golden tinsel above your head

But in that mass of voices you hear a familiar one

Dante-

It pulls you from unconsciousness

At first you feel before you properly understand anything around you

Soft material under you

Something heavy but warm laid over you

And the rough material of bandages compressing your chest

Distantly you hear the song quietly sung

And then comes sight and your met with the sight of the wrecked store

The jukebox is busted

Pool table in two with the balls scattered on the floor

Desk splintered in half

Drum set and guitar smashed in the corner

The fan was in pieces on the dirty and broken floor

Yet somehow miraculously the couch you were on was alright minus the greasy pizza stains you’d failed previously to wash out

Trying to sit up is met with instant regret, a sound of pain escaping you

The material covering you that you now realize to be Dante’s jacket falling off to the ground

The song stops

But with that came the jingle of a familiar chain to a necklace guarding a key to the underworld

“Easy there, you need to rest up before you start trying to do anything. Doctors orders”

Gently, hands that had killed so many demons and spilled such blood pushes you back into laying down properly

Then draping his coat back over you

Thankfully it seemed he had the foresight to wash it

A small victory

“How do you feel?”

“I’d say like hell but that be ironic”

That gets a small chuckle from him

On the small couch he sits himself by your legs

Not sitting in his typical spread out manner to ensure you have enough space to laze comfortably

“Where’s Mary?”

“Mar- oh right lady. She’s off to get you some prescription. I opted to stay here and make sure you didn’t wake up and start trying to fix the place when half dead” the last part comes out a bit harsh but you guess you kinda deserve that.

“Ah…what’s with you calling her lady?”

“Said she preferred that now….that Mary died a long time ago”

It goes back to an awkward silence

Your mind racing with thoughts

His as well with how he tapped his finger against his leg

Silence permeates with nothing to fill it

It’s uncomfortable

Not like the silence you’d used to have sparingly with him, especially when he once had a need to fill it with something

Yet again a tactic he used to defuse nerves

But now there’s nothing

He wants to say something

He always wants to talk but now he genuinely wants to say something

Yet he holds back

Let’s it die in his throat when he tunes his gaze to you

Guilt creeping up in him evident by how he quickly then averts his gaze

Unable to look at you

There’s a moment it looks like he wants to reach a hand to you

To place it on your leg as a means of comfort

Yet he hesitates Pulling back as if his touch would burn you

All the while you lay on the couch with him by your feet

This feels so weird

You want to move but you know the reaction and answer you’ll get

So you lay there

A pillow propped up against the arm while his jacket acted as your blanket

And silence permeates for minutes on end as he sits there

Observant and looking as if a single sound would send him into fight mode

A bit paranoid even for his traumatized teenage mind

The juxbox is broken

So there’s no way he can play something to calm himself down

A habit you noticed when he was particularly stressed

But maybe-

“Were you singing earlier?”

Your voice feels raw, you hadn’t noticed it until just now

Like you had garbled sand into glass

You can’t sing like this

But maybe he could

“Yeah, why?”

“What….what was that song you were singing?”

“It was something my mom taught me, uhhhh something like “devils never cry”? They made it into a kick ass rock song-”

“I learned it in choir class, it was my favourite. It’s been a long time since I’ve heard it….can you sing it for me Dante?”

He quirks a brow “you’re full of surprises you know. I’m not gonna lie and say I remember it well or that it’s accurate because I think it’s a translated version I was taught. but, whatever the patient wants I guess…All days, I'm looking in the Deep water flowing into me, Where are all tears, are they fallen? Tell me why I feel them in me? One day, they'll tell me what I'm exactly, Tears don't fall, I'll never heal them”

Mary- er lady helps with Dante in taking care of you

Apparently after you passed out the two had rushed to a hospital while dealing with demons

And your prediction of a rib poking into your lung was correct

A bit too correct for your own sake

Safe to say the bills were expensive and in the crossfire of all that your apartment wasn’t exempt from the destruction the hell tower you now learned was called the “temen-ni-Gru” had caused

Aka your building was destroyed in the madness and now you had to find someplace else to crash

You’d be more upset if you had more to move and mourn

But honestly you had bare necessities

And your apartment admittedly sucked so much so you were already looking for another place

So for now you were crashing at the store

That now finally had a name

Devil may cry

A fitting name and much more easy to use instead of “the store”

Like you’d had to use for months up to this point

Made you sound ominous when you said you worked at “the store”

Anyways

The two took shifts and turns

One staying while the other went out to do whatever

Presumably killing the few straggler demons that didn’t go down with the tower

Dantes been more silent than usual but at least for now you excuse it

He lost his brother and now he had to look after you

Not exactly a fun combination with the fact of the store needing to be fixed

But with that comes talking with lady

Catching up on what had happened

And finally the talk you’d both been needing to have

One seemingly long overdue when she sits down beside you

Hands folded and the canon you now knew as Kalina Ann propped up on a folding chair

You’d have to add buying new furniture for dmc to the list of stuff to do later

“So….why’d you do it?” Lady is quiet, her words more like a secret than anything

“Do what?”

“Run away?”

So they told People you ran away instead of them kicking you out?

You aren’t exactly surprised but did they really think it would make them look much better?

A sigh voluntarily leaves you

Depending on the lengths they went missing posters might be up

You hope to whatever god there may or may not be that they wouldn’t that go that far

But considering this is the first time you’d stood your ground against them and didn’t come crawling back…

Well, control freaks will do what they can to reel you back in no matter the cost

Especially since they were hinging on a cushy future in which they retired early and relied on you as an atm

“Sure running away, that’s definitely what you call throwing your kid out to the curb because they won’t become a lawyer and saying not to come back until they changed their mind” the tone is slightly bitter but not aimed to her, moreso the circumstance

At hearing that you see her mismatched eyes widen a bit

Pits of Emerald green and ruby red peering into that of your own

Seeing truth and bitterness stew in them

But at their core was sadness and hope

Bitterness at the memories

Yet a hope for the future

Something she’d never quite seen in your eyes

And it’s something you can’t see in hers anymore

For the whole she’d been looking after you it’s been present

Looming over the girl that had been your friend

Grief

Loss

And an overarching sense that she’s on the brink of collapse

Can’t blame her either

Not after whatever she’s been through up till now

All on her own after her mom died left to stew in anger

Only for now the grief to hit her full force for not only Miss Ann

But also for the memory of what once was her family

For her kind mother whom she talked about in earnest

Who despite never meeting you always packed extra snacks for Mary to share with you

For a father there but always absent

Nose stuck in his studies whom she talked of in hopes of earning his attention

Until that faded as years passed

And what’s left is a bitterness to the man who took everything

Who tried to kill her

Who killed her mom

His own wife

All for the sake of an obsession that would be for nothing because ultimately he only experienced the power he wanted for mere moments

Leaving Mary the unfortunate victim in it all

You don’t have the right to continue complaining about your parental situation to her

Not with what she’s experienced

Not with what she’s lost in such a short period of time

But her eyes are what stop you

Brimming with emotion

Two toned eyes of emerald green and ruby red

They shine like jewels too

Pretty and glimmering in the dull lighting of devil may cry

“Why did you never tell me how bad they were to you?” Her question is quiet at first but gains volume from a faint whisper to a steadfast tone as she then asks “why didn’t you come to me when you were kicked out?”

“I just….at school and with you I wanted to be normal. I didn’t want to think about what’s at home when I walked through the doors I wanted to be my age for once, and I felt that way only with you till now.” As for that second question, it’s a bit of harder thing to admit to her let alone yourself “i was panicked…I didn’t know what to do and I didn’t want to be a burden-”

“Burden?” It’s uttered in disbelief “how can you think like that! You’re never a burden to me! I was worried sick and they said you ran off! And I was alone and then I lost my mom”she pauses at that, going suddenly quiet as the words died in her mouth.

Your not really sure what to say after that

Neither is she

She just stays motionless besides the shake in her hands

In all your years of knowing her you’d never seen her like this

Even when she scraped her knee on the playground

She’d always been strong

Always held back tears even when her boyfriend in first year dumped her just before winter break

Always had been the strong shoulder for you to lean on when you were upset

And yet that girl is gone

Mary is dead and lady is what’s left of that girl

The bitterness

The resentment

the overwhelming grief of loosing both her parents

And most importantly the loneliness of it all

And your left to hold those pieces of her

Both emotionally as she breaks from the strenuous weight of everything crashing on her now

And physically as you push past your discomfort and pain to hold her close

She hesitates for a moment

Unsure and unsteady

But eases and pulls your closer

Holding you as if you were her last lifeline

Because in a way you are her lifeline

You are the last good thing from Mary’s life that still remains

And though that girl is dead, lady clings to that barest pinprick of light

Because when being born again from rage and anger with her revenge now satiated

What more does she have?

“I…I’m sorry” she’s desolate, quiet and a tad withdrawn until you pull her close. She’d always been the one you leaned on, but Mary was gone and it was time for you to repay the favour to what’s left of her.

“No, I’m sorry too. I should’ve contacted you, did anything sooner….i was scared and wanted to start over now that i had the chance. I should’ve thought of how you felt”

She’s silent for a few moments, but draws herself closer into your embrace. “We’re both pretty messed up huh?”

You can’t help but laugh a bit at that. “Yeah…guess we are. But we have each other again, and I think that’s what matters most right now”

She nods, and that’s all that needs to be said

….Well besides “I can get revenge on your parents-“ and “how about we talk about that later Lady”

He’s distant and stuck in his head more than before

It’s something that most wouldn’t notice since he tries to act like his typical self

Lady falls for it, though reluctantly because she doesn’t know him well but writes off why his smiles don’t reach his eyes

But you’d known Dante for about a year now

You’d known him long enough to notice when he’s off

It’s in the way his jokes aren’t the same

How he can’t properly look at you as he did before, with a sense of ease and joy that’s now damped

The drumming of his fingers and the thump of his boot against the floor creating soft creaks in the hardwood

you can tell whatever he didn’t say before was eating away at him

This wasn’t just grief (though that was still heavily apart of this) but rather something else that you can’t name until he was honest with it

Now, you wouldn’t particularly call yourself a confrontational person

You’d rather roll over than raise your voice or objection to your parents until that fateful night

And even then you mostly stood there being yelled at

You’d hardly name that a battle of words

But when it came to you, you wouldn’t do much to stand up for yourself

But this wasn’t about you

This was about Dante

And for as much as you could rot in silence like a forgotten fruit at the back of the fridge, you wouldn’t let Dante do the same

Not with how you see it absolutely eating at him

Just as it did to you before

Because you can see yourself so badly in him

And it hurts more than your currently broken chest

So when it’s finally his turn to stay with you while lady was out you take the chance

Because you can lose your apartment, your cold childhood home and what little shit you had

But you couldn’t lose him

You wouldn’t let him slip through your fingers and plunge into a different darkness that was all to similar to that of the hell Vergil voluntarily fell into

Not if you could do anything about it

“You’ve been more quiet as of late…”

“Really?”

“Yeah…”

It goes back to silence for a few minutes

This idiot isn’t taking the bait to air out his thoughts

Maybe you’d have to go the direct route instead

“So….are you gonna tell me what you wanted to say a few days ago?”

“Who’s to say I had anything on my mind”

You can’t help but roll your eyes at that, then reaching over to grab his shoulder. He was gonna run and you’re not letting him. “I know you well enough to know when you stuck in your head about something Dante…just please be honest and tell me. I don’t like seeing you distant like this”

There’s a pause in his actions at your touch, whatever was compelling him to run being stopped in his tracks. And then he answers “why’d you not say anything?”

“About what”

“Your injuries! You were hurt and on the brink of dying and you didn’t say anything about it!”

“Dante you had just lost your brother. You had other things to deal with-“

“And I could’ve lost you too on top of that as well! Because I didn’t notice you were on the brink of dying and you didn’t say anything!”

His eyes are clouded now in tears, glossy and making the blue shine like jewels

In any other scenario you’d admire the beauty in them

Yet all you see is pain refracted in the pools

Dante looks less his age and more like a scared little boy

But maybe that’s what he’s always been at heart

A scared boy still trapped in that hiding place as the house burned around him

Arms wrapped around himself to try and feel the fleeting warmth of his mothers touch

Loss drenches him to the bone

And you now realize that you’d nearly made it worse by brushing it off

But you can’t be fully to blame

Not when all your life you’d been raised to push away your own feelings

Your pain for others around you

And yet now he wants you to bare it to him

To ripe yourself open at its most tender

Because he was scared for you

Because he truly cared just as lady did

“You nearly died because of me, you were dragged into this because of me. Because I was selfish and couldn’t let go even when I knew it’d be dangerous. I….I shouldn’t have….you’d be safer if you left. Found another job and got away from here” it come out as a quiet whisper from him, his hair overshadowing his face and obscuring his eyes. You’d known him well enough though to know they were brimming with tears. You knew at the end there was also the unsaid notion of “away from me” Did this goof really think that after all this you’d leave? Knowing how much pain he was going through and had admitted to you he was scared of being alone again. Shaking your head your hand finds his, fingers linking together.

“You’re an idiot you know? You think I’m gonna leave you here when you still need me to remind you of the overdue bills? This place would go under if not for me. I’m not going anywhere”

“I’m being serious here for once-“

“I know damn it, but you listen to me for a minute before you get it all up in your head and make a decision without my input” it’s a bit sharp but you need to right now, he’s spiraling and already trying to decide to push you away. With a groan you slowly lift yourself up, getting a sound of protest from him before you silenced him with your open palm telling him to stop. Hesitantly he does so, watching you struggle but eventually sit up, hand clenching his. “I’m happy here Dante”

“Your happy here?” It’s spoken in disbelief. Maybe all your bitching had made him think otherwise but you did enjoy your time here, you wouldn’t trade it for the world or whatever cushy future your parents wanted. “Your happy here after all this? After you nearly died because of m-“

“I’m gonna stop you right there. We’ve had this conversation before and I didn’t know then but I know now why I want to stay despite the risks. Dante I never really lived before now. My life was made up for me and my outcome was predetermined before I was kicked out. And sure, maybe staying here is dangerous” you think of that future if you’d stayed and done what your parents wanted, an older unhappy version of you staring blankly in your mind “but danger is apart of life, you can’t live without it. And I’ve never been more happier, more free than I am here. So no, I don’t care about the danger I’m staying…understand?”. You see his eyes, they’re brimming with tears and more emotions than you can processed. But beneath it all you see Dante. The kind annoying dork who like his brother longed for companionship. His lips upturn ever so slightly as your free hand not entwined with his gently finds itself cupping his cheek, thumb wiping away a tear he didn’t realize had fallen.

“I’m staying and I don’t intend on leaving anytime soon even when things get dicey….understand?”

“Yeah…loud and clear honeypie”

You let the use of that horrid nickname slide once again with only a roll of your eyes. You’d never admit that it maybe made you smile, something you’ll deny vehemently when he inevitably brings it up later. But for now at least it’s ok.

You’re both gonna be ok.

“Hey Dante?”

“Yeah?”

“It’s good to be back”

…….“good to have you back hon-“

“Finish that sentence and I’ll make you sign all the work orders required to fix this place”

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maniculum · 2 years ago

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Medieval Scorpions Effortpost

So yesterday I reblogged this post featuring an 11th-century depiction of the Apocalypse Locusts from Revelations, noting the following incongruity as another medieval scorpion issue:

The artist, as you can see, has interpreted "tails like scorpions" as meaning "glue cheerful-looking snakes to their butts".

Anyway, it occurred to me that the medieval scorpion thing might not be as widely known as I think it is, and that Tumblr would probably enjoy knowing about it if it isn't known already. So, finding myself unable to focus on the research I'm supposed to be doing, I decided to write about this instead. I'll just go ahead and put a cut here.

As we can see in the image above, at least one artist out there thought a "scorpion" was a type of snake. Which makes it difficult to draw "tails like scorpions", because a snake's tail is not that distinctive or menacing (maybe rattlesnakes, but they don't have those outside the Americas). So they interpreted "tails like scorpions" as "the tail looks like a whole snake complete with head".

Let me tell you. This is not a problem unique to this illustration.

See, people throughout medieval Europe were aware of scorpions. As just alluded to, they are mentioned in the Bible, and if the people producing manuscripts in medieval Europe knew one thing, it was Stuff In Bible. They're also in the Zodiac, which medieval Europe had inherited through classical sources. However, let's take a look at this map:

That's Wikipedia's map of the native range of the Scorpiones order, i.e., all scorpion species. You may notice something -- the range just stops at a certain northern latitude. Pretty much all of northern Europe is scorpion-free. If you lived in the north half of Europe, odds were good you had never seen a scorpion in your life. But if you were literate or educated at all, or you knew they were a thing, because you'd almost certainly run across them being mentioned in texts from farther south. And those texts wouldn't bother to explain what a scorpion was, of course -- everyone knows scorpions, right? When was the last time you stopped to explain What Is Spiders?

So medieval writers and artists in northern Europe were kind of stuck. There was all this scorpion imagery and metaphor in the texts they liked to work from, but they didn't really know what a scorpion was. Writers could kind of work around it (there's a lot of "oh, it's a venomous creature, moving on"), but sometimes they felt the need to break it down better. For this, of course, they'd have to refer to a bestiary -- but due to Bestiary Telephone and the persistent need of bestiary authors to turn animals into allegories, one of the only visual details you got on scorpions was that they... had a beautiful face, which they used to distract people in order to sting them.

And look. I'm not here to yuck anyone's yum, but I would say that a scorpion's face has significant aesthetic appeal only for a fairly small segment of the population. I'm sure you could get an entomologist to rhapsodize about it a bit, but your average person on the street will not be entranced by the face of a scorpion. So this did not help the medieval Europeans in figuring out how to depict scorpions. There was also some semantic confusion -- see, in some languages (such as Old and Middle English), "worm" could be a general term for very small animals of any kind. But it also could mean "serpent".* So there were some, like our artist at the top of the post, who were pretty sure a scorpion was a snake. This was probably helped along by the fact that "venomous" was one of the only things everyone knew about them, and hey, snakes are venomous. Also, Pliny the Elder had floated the idea that there were scorpions in Africa that could fly, and at least one author (13th-century monk Bartholomaeus Anglicus) therefore suggested that they had feathers. I don't see that last one coming up much, I just share it because it's funny to me.

*English eventually resolved this by borrowing the Latin vermin for very small animals, using the specialized spelling wyrm for big impressive mythical-type serpents, and sticking with the more specific snake for normal serpents.

Some authors, like the anonymous author of the Ancrene Wisse, therefore suggested that a scorpion was a snake with a woman's face and a stinging tail. (Everyone seemed to be on the same page with regards to the fact that the sting was in the tail, which is in fact probably the most recognizable aspect of scorpions, so good job there.) However, while authors could avoid this problem, visual artists could not. And if you were illustrating a bestiary or a calendar, including a scorpion was not optional. So they had to take a shot at what this thing looked like.

And so, after this way-too-long explanation, the thing you're probably here for: inaccurate medieval drawings of scorpions. (There are of course accurate medieval drawings of scorpions, from artists who lived in the southern part of Europe and/or visited places where scorpions lived; I'm just not showing you those.) And if you find yourself wondering, "how sure are you that that's meant to be a scorpion?" -- all of these are either from bestiaries or from calendars that include zodiac illustrations.

11th-century England, MS Arundel 60. (Be honest, without the rest of this post, if I had asked you to guess what animal this was supposed to be, would you have ever guessed “scorpion”?)

12th-century Germany, "Psalter of Henry the Lion". (Looks a bit undercooked. Kind of fetal.)

12th-century France, Peter Lombard's Sententiae. (Very colorful, itsy bitsy claws, what is happening with that tail?)

12th-century England, "The Shaftesbury Psalter". (So a scorpion is some sort of wyvern with a face like a duck, correct?)

13th-century France, Thomas de Cantimpré's Liber de natura rerum. (I’d give them credit for the silhouette not being that far off, but there’s a certain bestiary style where all the animals kind of look like that. Also note how few of these have claws.)

13th-century England, "The Bodley Bestiary". (Mischievous flying squirrel impales local man’s hand, local man fails to notice.)

13th-century England, Harley MS 3244. (A scorpion is definitely either a mouse or a fish. Either way it has six legs.)

13th-century England, Harley MS 3244. (Wait, no, it’s a baby theropod, and it has two legs. (Yes, this is the same manuscript, that’s not an error, this artist did four scorpions and no two are the same.))

13th-century England, Harley MS 3244. (Actually it’s a lizard with tiny ears and it has four legs.)

13th-century England, Harley MS 3244. (Now that we’re at the big fancy illustration, I think I’ve got it — it’s like that last one, but two legs, longer ears, and a less goofy face. Also I’ve decided it’s not pink anymore, I think that was the main problem.)

13th-century England, MS Kk.4.25. (A scorpion is a flat crocodile with a bear’s head.)

13th-century England, "The Huth Psalter". (Wyvern but baby! Does not seem to be enjoying biting its own tail.)

13th-century England, MS Royal 1 D X. (This triangular-headed gentlecreature gets the award for “closest guess at correct limb configuration”. If two of those were claws, I might actually believe this artist had seen a scorpion before, or at least a picture of one.)

13th-century England, "The Westminster Psalter". (A scorpion is the offspring of a wyvern and a fawn.)

13th-century England, "The Rutland Psalter". (Too many legs! Pull back! Pull back!)

13th or 14th-century France, Bestiaire d'amour rimé. (This is very similar to the fawn-wyvern, but putting it in an actual Scene makes it even more obvious that you’re just guessing.)

14th-century Netherlands, Jacob van Maerlant's Der Naturen Bloeme. (More top-down six-legged guys that look too furry to be arthropods.)

14th-century Germany, MS Additional 22413. (That is clearly a turtle.)

14th-century France, Matfres Eymengau de Beziers's Breviari d'amor. (Who came up with that head shape and what was their deal?)

15th-century England, "Bestiary of Ann Walsh". (Screw it, a scorpion is a big lizard that glares at you for trying to make me draw things I don’t know about.)

I've spent way too much time on this now. End of post, thank you to anyone who got all the way down here.

#medieval #medieval creatures #medieval art #scorpions #medieval scorpions #manuscript #medieval manuscripts #illuminated manuscript

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serendipitous-seven · 3 months ago

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baby if i fall | singledad!Jungkook x f!reader | "I Can't Wait..." series

summary: For nearly a year, you and Jungkook have enjoyed the blissful tidings of your new relationship. But it isn’t long before reality rears its ugly head, forcing you to face your insecurities head-on when Jungkook makes it apparent what steps he is ready to take while you present one of your own that has him squirming. Meanwhile, Mai begins to show signs of unexplained distress. With life hurling the three of you into uncharted territory, you and Jungkook begin to question if you will make it over this obstacle.

pairing: dad!Jungkook x f!reader genre: sequel, domestic au, angst, fluff rating: pg-15 word count: 21.5k tags/warnings: This is a sequel so to understand the storyline I highly advise you read the first part, linked below :] This fic is built around themes of insecurities about physical intimacy. STILL SFW as there are no explicit scenes of such, but there will be dialogue concerning those topics. Romance through out i.e. heavy kissing in two scenes, ‘sex’ is mentioned in a few conversations, a conversation between reader and reader’s mom regarding sex & intimacy. A verbal argument/a bit of yelling, unhealthy communication, Mai experiences distress in several scenes, bullying, topics of absent mother, Mai hits a classmate [it gets resolved], heavy crying, emotional distress through out.

singledad!JK series mlist | make sure you have read the first part before proceeding here

Please proceed by own discretion and caution as these themes can be triggering or uncomfortable for some. While the content is still SFW, I ask minors DNI.

a/n: So here I am with a refreshed sequel, edited and cried over because I still love this little family of mine. It was odd reading this in my current circumstances and feeling heartbreak all the same. It really made me realize and feel proud of how much I just love to write, it makes me feel things nothing else does. Maybe I won’t be healed completely by a story let alone my own, or characters who learn how to respect one another and learn each other’s love languages - but I am learning that this kind of love can truly exist outside of mere fanfiction. I believe in it even if it didn’t find me like I thought it did. I’m growing stronger with time, and I’m really happy I stepped out of my dark hole to edit this and present it. Pls handle it with care, I really put my heart into each fic, whether it’s brand new or re-posted work <3 This is me giving you all a piece of me.

This bliss is addictive, sitting in Jungkook’s arms while your families go on about random things. A silent moment of gratitude sits as intertwined smiles on both of your faces, taking it all in. Both fathers advise you on investing in stocks as Princess Mai is entertained by Jungkook’s mom, “Hamny,” and your mother, “Nunu,” who act as her faithful guards fighting against the imaginary dragon intruding upon their backyard.

Everyone is happy and at ease, obsessed with seeing you and Jungkook together.

“The family that always should have been,” according to Mrs. Jeon. Jungkook shakes his head when she says that but hearing it leaves a fluttering in his chest.

Jungkook’s hand is wrapped around yours as he drives home with a sleeping Mai in the backseat. You both giggle when she snores, almost waking herself up.

Once back at their house, you win a playful fight against Jungkook to carry Mai to bed. You live for this despite her getting a little heavier with every inch she grows.

She moans and groans as you help a very zombified Mai change into her pajamas and brush her teeth before tucking her into bed. Usually the chatty one, she manages to butterfly a kiss onto your nose before rolling over, instantly falling back to sleep, her even breathing filling the silence of her room.

Jungkook is waiting at the door, lost in a dreamy haze after watching it all. He still has to pinch himself, wondering how on earth he managed to get you. Not only as his best friend, which he would have happily kept it that way, because having you was better than not, but to have you and be able to tell you with his entire being, ‘I love you.’ Nothing beats that. Watching you get his daughter ready for bed not only now, but the way you’ve handled her with care for all of these years, it is so different. There is an extra layer of love you have to offer. He wonders if he only sees it now because your mutual love for each other manifests in a new and intimate way. He finds himself unable to fully grasp the feelings that you continue to stir inside of him.

You tie your arms around his neck once he closes Mai’s door, and he kisses you; “Can you take care of me like that?” He teases against your lips. You roll your eyes, returning his affection. Jungkook carefully walks the two of you toward his bedroom. Too lost in him, you don’t question where he is headed until the back of your knees collide with his bed.

It’s only then that you stutter, pulling away from his kiss, but he has an ardent need to show you how much he loves you.

“Jungkook,” you start when he moves his lips across your cheek, pressing them along your jaw, down to the valley of your neck. You gasp, and only then does he stop, his face red with passion.

“You okay?” He chuckles, squeezing your waist with his hands.

“Um, yes-” you waver, but Jungkook, too caught in the moment, takes that as the go-ahead and continues; “a-and no.”

His breath stills, and he stops again. You look up at him with shaking eyes as he looks down at you, riddled with confusion and concern. You move your hands over his chest, staring at his shirt, “I um- I-I’m not ready for this, not yet.”

He understands right away, stumbling back to put distance between the two of you. “Oh,” his voice trembles and his hands drop to his sides, “th-that’s okay, I’m sorry, I-uh I shouldn’t have assumed-”

You rub his arms to assure him you aren’t offended, kissing his cheek. It’s awkward though, neither of you can deny it, hands loosely holding the other as he walks you to your car.

“You can still spend the night-” he starts, but you turn and offer him an empathetic smile, touching his cheek.

“I think we need to cool off.” You chuckle, feeling embarrassed, “Wouldn’t it be kind of insensitive for me to stay with you tonight?”

He melts at the feel of your warm palm against his cheek, snorting. He looks at you with an arched brow, “Why, because I can’t resist you?”

You shrug with a pressed smile, “You tell me.” The exchange is awkward, and Jungkook can see the tightness on your face.

He pulls you in for a hug, kissing the side of your head. You feel shivers up and down your spine when he breathes next to your ear. “I love you, okay?”

You breathe the same words, hugging your boyfriend a little tighter.

Driving home, it’s all you can think about. It isn’t a question of wanting to. You want to. But knowing Jungkook for as long as you have has also meant knowing his life, too much of it.

You scoff out loud, cursing your very thoughts. ‘Can I measure up to those women? Will I be different enough for him to want to commit to me forever?’ It haunts you.

You feel sick and force yourself to think of something else, anything else but that.

“I have a parent-teacher conference with Mai’s teacher on Friday,” Jungkook sighs, his hand stroking your arm. You rest back against his chest, the two of you squashed into a lounge chair while Mai runs around the yard with their new dog, Bam. Every time you see the large Doberman, you want to laugh; Jungkook is never short of surprises and last-minute decisions. You should know that by now.

“Is that why you seemed so wound up tonight?” You tip your head to get a better view of him.

He shuts his eyes, grinning, “On top of this move, yeah, I guess so.” You can feel his body tense up from stress. You turn in his lap, swiping your hand back through his newly, box-dyed hair- another thing you could laugh at if he wasn’t so pressed at the moment, “Did she get in trouble?”

“Depending on how that meeting goes, she may be in trouble with me,” his eyes wander to find his daughter lying flat on the grass, Bam’s generous licks coating her face in kisses. Mai shrieks, carefully pushing Bam away before she’s running again.

“Even though working my business from home now gives me more time to be with you guys, I can’t help her as much with homework like I used to,” your eyes follow Mai’s erratic jaunt throughout the backyard, unable to keep the smile away for too long while you watch her, “maybe she needs a tutor.”

Jungkook pats your thighs, whispering, “I don’t know,” before he tells his daughter it’s time to go in and start her night routine.

Mai sprints past her dad and into your arms, wrapping you in a death-defying grip around your waist. Jungkook’s face blushes at the sight, body overtaken by butterflies, a feeling he’s become used to. He rubs his chest as he watches you walk backward with Mai as she warns you that you’ll run into something, guiding you back into the house.

“Are you spending the night?” Mai asks once inside the house, releasing you.

You brush her hair back behind her shoulders, holding her chin in your hand, “Mhm, so go brush your teeth, bean, then I’ll tuck you in.”

Mai’s face beams with a smile much like her dad’s. Jungkook smiles to himself, listening to the two of you banter while he cleans off the dining room table.

“How come you don’t just live with us at the new house?” Mai starts to hop toward the hallway, unfazed by the weight of her question. You stop in your tracks, “You sleep over a lot anyways!” She adds.

Jungkook’s head pops up, eyes finding you right away. His curious grin is a heavy contrast to the way you start nibbling on your lip. “How observant of you,” you look down at her.

“Daddy said he would like for you to move with us-” Mai turns to grin at her dad, a window of space in her teeth, “he’s just too chicken-”

Jungkook clicks his tongue, face glowing red, “Okay slick, go-uh-go brush your teeth and we’ll be in there in a minute,” Jungkook cuts in. Mai hops away with Bam close at toe.

Jungkook catches your round eyes, “I’m guessing we should talk about that,” he flashes you an innocent smile, “after she goes to bed.” You’re nodding before he can fully finish that sentence.

“Me moving in is not an idea I want in Mai’s head,” you huff, looking over at Jungkook and the smirk on his face. He notices your annoyance, pushing his lips together, “Go on,” he urges you.

“I just wish you would have told me this is a discussion you were having with your kid, babe,” you sigh, putting the last plate he rinsed into the dishwasher before starting it up, “isn’t that something you should be talking to me about, not a 7-year-old?”

“I’m not discussing anything like that with my daughter, she asked if you were going to move with us, and I said it would be nice, but- she brought it up,” he snorts, “not me!”

You bark with laughter, “Blaming Mai, how father-of-the-year of you, Jungkook.”

Jungkook laughs despite your frustration, tossing the rag into the sink before slinking his arms around your waist, pushing his nose into your cheek. You scoff, trying to fight him off, but he proves victorious, as always. Your arms fall limp when he squeezes you tightly before leaning forward for a kiss.

“Cheater,” you say against his lips, “this does not end our conversation.” He giggles this time before kissing you again, “and your stupid little ring here can’t distract me either.” You add, pressing your finger against the piercing on his bottom lip.

He laughs, dropping his head in defeat, “I wasn’t aware a conversation between two people meant one person argues while the other can’t get a word in edgewise,” he pats your side, smirking, “and complain about this all you want, I know you like it.”

You swat his chest in response, “whatever,” attempting to wiggle out of his hold. He finds your determination cute, hardly putting up any restraint against your pathetic attempt to set yourself free; “and it’s hard to argue when you won’t let me go!”

“It’s a lot more fun to argue this way,” he retorts.

Oh, he’s good.

You let out a loud huff, once again losing the fight, “Well, what do you have to say for yourself then?” Your frown only makes his gaze softer, you watch his eyes dart all around your face. You know he’s wondering where he should kiss you next.

“What I have to say is…I am madly and deeply in love-”

“Jung--kook,” you laugh with all frustration, pushing against his biceps that seem to grow by the day, “I am trying to have a very serious conversation right now wherein my boyfriend, you, respects me and listens to my concerns and validates my feelings because this is kind of a major thing!” You take a deep breath at the end of that sentence.

He steals a kiss before letting you go, apologizing. Though you wouldn’t mind hearing Jungkook tell you daily just how in love with you he is, that could wait for a later time. He follows you into the living room, peering down the hallway instinctively to make sure Mai’s night light is on in her bedroom, where she is sound asleep. You hold your glass of wine between two hands, watching him settle onto the couch, his arm draped over the back and resting his head against his palm.

He smiles at you, stealing a sip from your glass, having opted out of a glass for himself, considering he has an early meeting in the morning; “Okay, so Mai and I got a little excited about moving, and you did come up. I’m sorry, baby. But help me understand what’s troubling you.”

You immediately feel heard, a warmth settling in your chest when you realize he has been listening for the last 30 minutes.

“I’m just surprised she would ask that, and a little bothered that you didn’t tell me. But my concern is Mai, I just don’t want to get her hopes up about me moving in with you guys. You know kids, and you know your kid, she holds onto every hope and she is smart. You give her an inkling, and she puts two and two together so fast.”

He nods, sighing, “I hear you and you’re right, but I’m wondering if the issue really has to do with my daughter, and I-” he makes it a point to gesture at himself, “wanting this or you not wanting to move in. I mean, I’m obviously not opposed to the idea, we’ve been together for almost a year now. I’m moving into a new place. Isn’t moving in together the next logical step?”

Steps? You can’t hold in the hefty sigh that sits in your chest. The lingering thoughts loom over your head when you think about the steps you and Jungkook have overcome in just the last few months. Being with him, it’s seventh heaven, yes. Moving on from best friends to best friends that have fallen in love, confessing that love to each other then becoming boyfriend and girlfriend. But with time and a new relationship, it’s you and Jungkook. The two of you know each other well, and that in itself was proving to be a hurdle.

“Is it, Jungkook? Most couples-”

“For us,” he says in a breath, “I’m talking about you and me. We’ve known each other for a long time, been in love with each other for God knows how long before confessing, you’ve helped me raise my kid- moving in together feels right and besides-” Jungkook moves forward, resting his hand on your knee with a careful laugh, “baby, you do sleep here almost every night anyway.”

You abandon your wine for a more serious tone, “because it’s a drive for me to get hom, and I’m always here late. Besides, your new house is a lot closer to my apartment.” It’s the truth, the half-truth anyway.

There’s an odd silence that follows for a few beats. Jungkook looks down at where his hand rests on your knee, fingers playing with the material of your pants; “I know something else is bothering you…” It suddenly becomes hard to swallow when Jungkook looks at you, a certain caution in his eyes as he presents that observation.

You chew on the inside of your lip.

Moving in does sound nice. Being able to work from home and hear Jungkook and Mai come in, maybe even swing by his office for a quick lunch together on occasion. Picking Mai up from school on your days off and bringing her home, a home you don’t have to leave just to stay alone in your apartment when all you want is to be with the two loves of your life.

It sounds perfect.

But…

The but…You hate it. You’ve hated it since the moment it barged its way into your head. It arrived and never left, making itself comfortable as an unwelcome guest inside your mind. Moving in only means things progress from there, naturally. You share a space with the one you love. Share a bathroom. A bed… And it’s not like you and Jungkook haven’t shared those things already. But physical intimacy with each other outside of making out and other forms is otherwise vague in your relationship, you always made sure it stopped before it progressed beyond a point you can’t take back with him.

Jungkook can see the inner workings of your mind appear as a question mark on your face. He wants to ask you, but the knot in his stomach tells him not to. He wants you to be ready to talk about it.

“Come here,” he pulls you into his arms, the way he always does when he isn’t sure about what to say when both of you are at a loss. And it’s nice, it’s so nice to finally be able to do this with him.

“I just want you with us as much as possible,” he soothes, rubbing your sides, “that’s all I’m getting at.”

You nod, “We’ll talk about it more and I’ll give it some thought,” you sit back, holding his hands, “but just-don’t let this be a conversation you have with Mai again, please? I don’t want to disappoint her if it doesn’t happen.”

He frowns, “‘doesn’t happen?’ You mean, ever?” He can’t hide his disappointment.

“Jungkook,” you’re exasperated, “we just haven’t talked about enough yet. Yes, we are in a relationship, but I mean, there are other factors to consider too, right?”

When he fidgets in his spot, you suddenly realize there is space between the two of you. “Are you talking about what happened a month ago?”

You feel exposed, stripped in a way to say anymore, but it’s a thought that’s been in your mind since the issue arose for you, “yes, that is something, but I also mean- well, like marriage? Have you thought about marriage?”

He tries to hide the way his eyes widen. “Is that something you want?”

You bite your lip, “You don’t?”

He sees your expression, the way you’re growing more distant by the second. He remembers the last time this happened, almost to the point of losing you entirely. He makes a last-minute decision to re-close the gap, tying your fingers with his, “okay, so there is a lot we still need to discuss before moving in together is an option then.”

You nod wearily, “which is why we need to leave Mai out of it, for now.”

Jungkook hates to end the night this way, the two of you lost, unsure of how the other is feeling. Instead of sleeping in his arms, you both take to your respective sides of his bed - you staring up at the ceiling and Jungkook, who is lying on his side, stares out of the window.

You pretended to be asleep when you felt him stir at one point, knowing he turned to check.

He lay back on his side, mind running rampant with intrusive thoughts. These questions he wasn’t aware could exist until entering a relationship with you now cloud his forethought. Before, he wondered how he could go on secretly loving you, so desperately wanting you to want him. And now that he has you, his question feels heavier.

‘Can I be good enough for her?’ It booms with such a heavy bass that it irritates his eardrums.

You squirm in your seat, cheek resting against your knuckles as you stare back at your computer screen. The conversation you and Jungkook had last night left you strained, mind occupied, despite the mountain of work in front of you. And by the way both of you struggled to even spare a look at each other when you kissed him goodbye this morning, you knew he was still thinking about what was going on in your mind.

In hindsight, dating for almost a year may have been too soon to bring up marriage. There is still so much to do as a couple, to learn about your best friend turned boyfriend, and even your relationship with Mai is changing ever so slightly. You want time to explore all of that, but Jungkook’s statement, even though it regarded something else for him, kept flashing in red font before your eyes.

‘I’m talking about you and me…’

You and Jungkook. It used to be an unfathomable dream. Now you are living it, and those single words hold so much for you. It’s wonderful and terrifying when you allow the thought to seep in, wrapping its meaning around your bones; it was a part of you now.

It’s nearly impossible not to imagine that kind of future with this man who continues to captivate you more and more. Every day you see Jungkook and you think, ‘Can I really love him more than I already do?’

And the answer is always yes.

Then, Mai dances across your mind, a foolish smile appearing on your lips and leaving Nic to wonder what drug you are on at the moment. She knows, rolling her eyes with a smirk when she notices how distracted you’ve become.

She came over in need of your skill, wanting a new banner and a few extra graphics to dress up her website.

“Ah,” Nic dramatizes a sigh, wheeling her chair over to your desk, “what’s it like up there on cloud nine?” She elongates her words to string you along, looking down at the framed picture you have of Jungkook and Mai, a selfie they took some years back while on vacation. You remember it clearly because Mai had just turned five and Jungkook surprised her with a trip to her favorite amusement park. They sent you that selfie and a quick text telling you how much they missed you and wished you were there with them.

You have to laugh at the obviousness of it all; the three of you were a family before you even knew it.

“I would ask how your love life is but-” Nic looks back at you with an arched brow, “it’s pretty obvious how well that’s going.”

You widen your eyes, choosing to answer her query with a gentle nod.

But it’s Nic, she picks up on everything, even when you get back to work with a set determination. She purses her lips, searching for the right words to form her nosy question.

“I know you have something to say,” you lean back in your chair, pushing your digital art pen behind your ear before returning a sarky look toward Nic, “so no need for consideration - out with it.”

She gives you a look of innocence, fluttering her eyelashes at you, “you’ve sighed like a million times in the last hour, and despite how in love you are, I know you. So either you are exhausted with my presence or-” she drawls, waiting in expectation.

You open your mouth, and Nic is quick to press her finger against your lips, “I know you aren’t that tired of me.”

You push her hand away, laughing, “Okay, okay. It’s stupid-ugh, no. It’s not stupid, actually, and that’s bothering me.”

You think it should be simple, wanting to share in the physical act of love with the man you love.

Nic’s eyes wander your expression for more, steeping in confusion that mirrors the very same inside of you, “gonna need more than that.”

The two of you share in a silent stare-off, a moment that Nic knows is necessary while you try to piece together the tethered ends of your worries; “Mai passively suggested I move into their new house with them, come to find out they talked about it briefly before. Jungkook is all for it and it - I don’t know - it started this whole conversation…” You shake your head, trailing the end of your jumbled mind.

“Okay,” Nic continues to read your expression, noting the bend in your posture and shaking eyes, “okay, not the worst thing he could want considering this is Jeon Jungkook we’re talking-” she stops when you shoot her a flat look, “sorry okay, well, what was the conversation about?”

You round your eyes, “everything.”

Nic sighs your name, “literally giving me nothing to work with here.”

You groan out loud, tossing your head back until it hits the back of your chair, “because it’s not fair, he and I are finally in this place neither of us knew the other wanted until months ago, and now reality has wedged its way into our relationship and- I-I don’t know if we’re ready to answer all of these questions.”

“Questions like?” She motions with her hands to draw you out.

“Having sex!” The words spill out of you, leaving you to burn beneath the flame of embarrassment. It’s enough to make Nic sit back, eyes popped open and mouth slightly agape.

“Not-okay, god-not just that. Our conversation spiraled from moving in together to marriage, and now I’m afraid Jungkook doesn’t actually want to marry me- and before you ask, no, I don’t want to be married right now, but-” your shoulders drop even lower, “it is something I want with him.”

A loud exhale falls out of your friend, “Oof, okay, this is- yeah-this is a lot of baggage.”

“It’s a mixed pot of crap, is what it is Nic,” you groan.

“So,” the tone of her voice drags along, “I’m guessing you guys haven’t-”

“We sound like teenagers,” you roll your eyes, “no, Jungkook and I have not had sex, I wasn’t ready when he was, and am still not ready.”

She nods, “Okay, fair, but uh-that’s um-that’s kind of a bump, right? I mean, maybe not right this minute but I’m guessing you two wouldn’t have come this far if a long-term relationship wasn’t something you’re both aiming for? So, you know, that will become an area that needs to be discussed.”

You drop your head in your hands, “My stupid brain won’t stop patronizing me with his past,” you sit upright, hair askew, “his past that wasn’t that long ago, and- I don’t know…”

Nic sighs, understanding immediately and if she knew any better, was aware of this before you confirmed it, “there it is. Okay, so his past taunts you. Are you worried he’ll cheat on you?”

“No, Jungkook has done a lot of things but no I’m not worried-” you sigh, “I love him, I love Mai, I love the three of us together,” if not for the issue at hand, Nic could hear the musing sound of love in your tone, “but this has been an issue since before I fell in love with him and I can’t get it out of my head, even now.”

“You have to talk to him,” Nic repeats these words you remember so clearly from months ago, “that’s the only way you guys will know what step to take next or how to take it.”

“I know that, and we will, but-” you hesitate for a moment, “what if he really can’t commit to me. I mean, he has me, and I’m pretty sure he doesn’t want anything else with anyone else, but I can’t stop seeing that look on his face when I mentioned marriage.”

“Look, this isn’t my relationship, babe,” Nic leans in, “and I’m just asking rhetorically here, but does marriage have to define his commitment to you?”

She knows you’ll answer her anyway by the set look in your eyes; “for me, it does.” You hate the way that sounds; “I know Jungkook, he’s been my best friend for so long and now we get to be in love and of course I want to express that to him in every variation we can,” a soft chuckle slips passed your lips, “but just because it is him doesn’t mean I change my standards, even if he is the only guy that knows me so well. For me, giving myself to him? It’s a serious commitment.”

“Don’t hate me for asking what I am about to ask, but does this mean if he doesn’t want to get married, you’re never going to sleep with your man? You’re just going to continue holding hands like Little House on the Prairie-”

A drawn-out scoff bellows out of you, tossing your pen at her, “You are supposed to be helping me, not making fun of me!”

“I’m kidding,” her tone changes with a hint of laughter, left over, “I respect you.”

You feel yourself blush at the prideful smile on you friend’s face as she looks at you; “A lot.”

A few quips are made before the two of you are working again, leaving the conversation to itself.

Drowning your worries about each other in work, communication between you and Jungkook is limited to sending goodnight texts and ‘I love you’s’ for a week straight.

As you make your way to Mai’s school, all you can think about is the last time you made this drive, prompted by a call from her principal, later listening to your best friend of many years tell you he loved you back. If it worked out then, somehow this could all work out now. Pulling into a visitor’s parking spot, something churns in your belly, the unknown making you skip a few steps of the staircase as you trail into the building.

There is a smell to every school that immediately launches you into some nostalgic place of remembering, pulling open the door to the main office before politely telling the secretary you were there for Mai. After confirming the emergency call list, she directs you back to the office where the principal is waiting at her desk. Mai’s teacher, Mrs. Yoon, is standing off to the side and offers you a head nod with a meek wave.

Instantly, you spot Mai, her body limp in the chair and head drooping. She isn’t swinging her feet like she often does when they can’t reach the ground, and she isn't playing with the hem of her shirt. The little girl hardly spares you a breath when she hears you call her name softly, rubbing the top of her head with a careful caress.

“Thank you for coming on such short notice,” Ms. Park says, flashing a tight smile at you. “Mrs. Yoon has informed me that Mai was caught arguing with another classmate today, it appears she called her a name.”

Both teachers see the confusion blanket across your face, solidifying even for them the oddity of this entire ordeal. Mai has always been an obedient little girl, and though she got in trouble like any other child from time to time, this was outlandish for the Jeon Mai you’ve known since birth, “I’m sorry?”

Mrs. Yoon nods regretfully, “During reading hour, the two girls who share a table were going on and on. I initially thought they were just chatting, but when I made my way over, Mai-ehm- she called the other student, ‘stupid.’”

Mai’s head drops even lower, your eyes boring into her.

“Aside from her recent decline in class participation and work, we have never experienced any trouble with Mai before, not like this. So we are just as surprised as you but,” Ms. Park folds her hands over the desk, “we can’t treat her like any special case - she will need to come back on Saturday and serve a detention. We will send a letter home to her father about weekend work to make up for her missed assignments.”

A long sigh escapes you, nodding.

After the meeting, you make a call to Jungkook knowing it would be better to warn him rather than bombard him with the unfolding of his delinquent child. Mai drags herself to your car, staying a few feet ahead of you.

“Hey,” you breathe slowly when he picks up, noting the way Mai tenses her shoulders because she knows who you are talking to. In the background of the call, you can hear him driving, “Are you heading to another showing?”

“Nope,” he lets out a fake cheer, “finished up early, why?”

“Brace yourself,” you say slowly into the phone.

“What’s wrong? Is Mai okay?” The panic rises in his tone but you are quick to settle it, opening Mai’s door so she can hop in. She avoids your eyes, buckling herself in before you shut the door.

You stay outside of the car, “apparently, Mai called one of her classmates ‘stupid’ today.”

“What,” Jungkook laughs, disbelief apparent in his voice, “you’re kidding.”

“I don’t know who was more shocked, me or her teachers, but it’s true and sweet little bean has jail time this weekend,” you try to soften the blow with a small joke. Jungkook groans, his palm landing in a firm slap against the steering wheel.

“Alright,” he curses, “alright, I’ll see you girls in a minute.”

Your attempt to fill the quiet drive proves to be a failed one. “Bean?” You flit your eyes between the road and a sulking Mai in the backseat. She doesn’t acknowledge you, her chin sitting in the palm of her hand. She traces patterns onto her pants with her finger, bottom lip hanging low.

You clear your throat, pulling into Jungkook’s driveway. Mai sees him first, waiting at the door with his hands shoved inside his pockets. She groans, planting her forehead into her hand.

You pinch a smile as the two of you walk up to him. Jungkook kisses your cheek, his hand wrapping around the back of Mai’s neck while the three of you walk into the house. You put Mai’s things away while they walk into the living room. A force hangs around the little girl’s ankles the longer her father is silent. He tells her to sit on the sofa while he pulls up the ottoman, sitting right in front of her.

“So…?” Is all he says, clasping his hands together.

Mai’s chin falls against her chest, heavy breaths falling out of her nose, making it apparent she has no interest in discussing her mistake. You occupy yourself with Bam, quietly taking a seat out of Mai’s eyesight.

“Jeon Mai,” Jungkook tightens his tone, “you already have detention tomorrow, you want to be grounded next weekend too?”

Mai gasps, picking her head up and looking at her dad like he’s just betrayed her in the worst way, “Daddy that’s not fair, I didn’t even do anything!”

Jungkook’s pierced eyebrow quirks, “So calling your classmate stupid is okay?” He frowns.

Mai flings herself back into the cushion, her frown a carbon copy of her dad’s, “She deserved it.”

“Mai,” her name comes out as a harsh whisper from your mouth. Jungkook looks at you. Your body rattled from such a brazen thing for a 7-year-old to say, you disappear out into the back. Jungkook’s eyes are already back on his daughter, who is watching you out of the corner of her eye.

It was never easy to discipline Mai, especially when tears were sitting in the corners of her eyes. No matter how large her mistake, Jungkook often teetered on the edge of caving because he couldn’t stand seeing his daughter cry or hurt in any way. But he stiffened his upper lip just like every other time, leaning forward in anticipation of her side of the story.

Mai’s eyes smoke with frustration when she opens her mouth to say something before closing it again, “Never mind,” she mumbles, head falling back against the sofa cushion, “nobody ever listens anyways,” her tiny voice argues.

“We’re going to your classmate’s house so you can apologize, Saturday after-”

“No!” Mai yells, a look of horror painting her tiny features, “Daddy, I don’t wanna go to her house, I already said sorry in Ms. Park’s office-”

“No exceptions,” Jungkook shoos Bam out of the way, Mai’s protector. At any sound of distress, the lanky dog appears to assure his miniature owner is safe; “what’s going on, huh? First, the teacher-parent conference, and now this?” You note the slight spiral Jungkook appears to be in.

Mai sniffles, using the back of her hand to wipe her eyes, “I don’t care about school,” she whimpers. Crocodile tears staining her perfectly round cheeks.

Jungkook expresses his exhaustion with a sigh, a deep breath rounds his chest before he inches closer to his daughter. “Come on bud, you’ve always loved school- what’s going on?” He wipes each tear that follows.

Mai hiccups a couple of times, her teardrops only growing larger and making the ache in Jungkook’s heart greater. He swallows back the lump forming in his throat, allowing Bam to nestle himself between them, resting his snout on Mai’s knee. For a moment, the three of them are stuck in the center of a storm, Mai’s deep cries filling up the space.

“What is it, baby?” Jungkook soothes her, his tattooed hand grabbing onto her small one. Her broken words are the only sound heard for the next minute before she musters up the courage to speak.

“Th-there’s a dance,” Mai cries, her tiny body taken over by emotion. She looks at her dad when he tells her to take a deep breath, following his instruction a few times over.

“A dance?” He asks softly, rubbing her fingers between his.

“Mhm,” Mai nods, eyes red but the tears have stopped flowing now, “f-for kids and their moms.”

Jungkook inhales, eyes closing for only a second before he’s staring right into his daughter’s eyes. He can’t allow her to see the break in his own eyes, “for moms, hm?”

“That girl was asking me about my mom, and I got mad,” Mai pouts, her finger tracing one of Jungkook’s tattoos, “I called her stupid…”

He breathes in through his teeth, nodding, “okay kiddo, listen to me-” Jungkook takes Mai’s chin, directing her to look at him, “you understand why you gotta’ apologize to her, right? And properly?”

Mai just nods.

“Okay,” he sighs, dropping his hand to engulf both of hers in one, “I am sorry you are hurting, bean. You need to tell me these things as soon as they happen, yeah?” He squeezes her hands, “How else is Dad going to know when you need my help unless you tell me?”

“’Cause I-it’s embarrassing, daddy,” Mai’s voice cracks, “it’s not fair that I don’t get to go j-just because-” Mai frowns, “it’s just not fair.”

“No, it’s not, but you know what you got, right?” Jungkook pulls Mai’s hands to rest them on top of his shoulders, his hands moving to hold her around her ribcage, he utters your name and the mere sound of it creates a thin smile on Mai’s face, “and you have a Hamny, Nunu, and two poppas- you even got this dummy-” Jungkook and Mai look down at Bam who is in desperate want of some love himself, “and you have me forever, Jeon Mai, you can’t forget about me.”

He reaches around her neck and taps his fingers there gently, swimming in the sound of his daughter’s giggles. Bam hops around the furniture as the sound of Mai’s repaired joy leaps out of her body, seeping into the walls of her bedroom.

After sorting out her punishment, Jungkook leaves Mai to start her homework, slipping through the sliding glass door to find you. You look at him as he makes his way over, a look of wonder on your face, “I was sure they were talking about the wrong kid.”

Jungkook presses his eyes shut, shaking his head.

It was a long week, and all three of you were feeling it. From work, school, and the wavering questions surrounding your relationship. You hesitate for a moment before wrapping your arms around Jungkook’s waist, kissing the center of his chest, then looking up at him.

He groans, dropping his hands to rest on your sides, “I thought we settled all of this at the parent-teacher meeting last week.”

“Oh, you never did tell me what happened,” you say, resting your chin against his chest. He smooths his hands up and down your back, the two of you looking at each other. Neither acknowledges any reason for the week-long radio silence.

“Yeah-um,” his eyes strain, the vein in his neck protruding, “apparently math isn’t the only class her grades are suffering in,” he lets you go, “she’s almost failing math actually, hasn’t brought home her science homework for the last couple of weeks, isn’t reading their assigned book for the year-” he shakes his head.

Your sharp inhale alerts Jungkook, “What? This isn’t like her-”

“I know that, I know my kid,” he spats back.

He catches the surprise in your face, noting how short he’s been in the last week, too.

“I’m sorry, I’m just-there’s a lot going on and it seems to be happening all at once,” he breathes, reaching out for you to grab his hand. You move forward on weary feet before taking it, allowing him to pull you into another hug.

“We’ll figure this out,” you assure him, rubbing his back, “maybe-um, just focus on Mai right now, she’s important.”

So are you, he thinks to himself.

He leans forward and pecks your lips, “Maybe we can de-stress,” he kisses you again, “in the hot tub, after she goes to bed.”

Suddenly, your tongue swells, depleting you of any sound response, eyes struggle to meet his. The embers of desire stoke inside of you, but everything else wills you to create distance. If not for Jungkook’s mindful hold around you, you are sure you’d fall back.

“I can’t,” you feign disappointment, “I shouldn’t, it’s the middle of the week.”

He questions you with a look.

You lean up to kiss his cheek before moving his arms from around you, “Not tonight, Kook.”

“Okay,” he feels dissatisfied with your reason, following you back to the front door. Before you can get into your car, Jungkook tugs your arm, bringing you back to him.

“Jungkook,” you breathe tirelessly.

“Need a favor,” he laughs, “for Mai.”

Your ears perk up, body relaxing in his arms. Jungkook pretends not to notice the way you tensed initially.

“Um-there’s a dance, I guess, for uh-well for the kids and their moms-”

A small gasp escapes you, “Oh no.” Your heart launches into your throat, face falling.

Heart stuttering in his chest, your reaction for Mai always so deep he can feel it inside of himself, “you think you’d want to take her?”

“Of course,” you say in a breath, “oh my gosh, of course I’ll take her.”

All he can do is repay you in the way he’s most confident in, hands squeezing you before he peppers your lips with kisses, “I love you.”

You push his face back, skin warming beneath his touch, “You know I’d do anything for her.”

His eyes twinkle as they drink you in, but you can see a measure of worry in them; “I know we have a lot to discuss,” he starts, “but we’re gonna be okay, yeah? You and Me?”

You want to settle his worry, but fear invades you like a virus and gnaws at your stomach, “just - one thing at a time.”

You feel his hold around you faintly loosen, but you mask it by telling him you’ll help him pack up some more boxes since Mai wasn’t going to be around Saturday. He’s disappointed, but rather than question you, he thanks you and opens your car door, pulling your chin to kiss you goodbye.

Jungkook lays in bed that night, becoming too familiar with this sleeplessness. His hands lay behind his head while he stares up at the ceiling, watching your weariness paint a picture across the white expanse of his bedroom.

He recalls this helpless feeling when you walked away from the cruise ship, leaving him with the notion that you were done with him entirely. Mai enters his mind and an audible scoff comes out like poison, forcing him to shut his eyes because he can’t bear that pain. But it’s a burden he is forever vowed to in order to protect his daughter. Despite how apologetic she was, he could see something brewing in her. Not like anything he’d seen before when this issue about her absent mother would come up.

All he wanted was in his hands: his daughter and you. As sleep finally rained over him like a heavy storm, he couldn’t help feeling like what he finally had a grasp on was beginning to slip through his fingers.

“I swear there’s an echo, listen-” you stop to allow quiet into the empty house, looking at Jungkook who is smirking at you, “HELLO!”

Jungkook pretends to listen with anticipatory glee, eyes gliding across the vast space of his new home while Bam sniffs around the tiled floor.

Silence.

You pout, opening your mouth to try a different sound before Jungkook gently places his hand over your mouth, “just admit defeat, babe- this is hard to watch.”

You click your tongue, pushing his hand away, only for him to grab your arm, turning you in one swift motion that has your head spinning, caging you in his arms. His voice vibrates against your back and into your ear: " You are cute, though.” His words are muddled when he kisses your cheek.

“Clingy,” you shoot back as he walks the two of you around their new living room.

He chuckles, squishing your cheeks when he turns your face so he can kiss you.

“Alright,” you argue, ducking your head away when you realize he doesn’t just want a single kiss, “let’s move Mai’s boxes into her room,” you squirm until he finally releases you, “I want her new bed to be built so she can see it and like me more than you.”

He tongues his cheek, “Really?”

You hold your hands behind your back, turning about to portray the picture of an innocent girlfriend, “yup.”

“Okay, let’s make a bet,” he says, eyeing the box filled with pieces of Mai’s new bed frame, a light bulb appearing above his head, “I’ll carry all of the boxes in if you can build her bed by yourself.”

Your eyes pop open, “By myself?”

He tips his head, crossing his arms in expectation of you waving your white flag. But it doesn’t surprise him when you slit your eyes together, lips revealing a pearly smile, “deal, Jeon.”

The two of you become lost in your work. At first, the tasks sound unfair. You build while Jungkook unloads the truck; easy! But when you peer out of Mai’s soon-to-be bedroom window every so often, you realize Jungkook received the short end of the stick. The edges of summer are making their way into the city a little early, and today the sun is blazing. Jungkook abandoned his shirt an hour into it, tying it around his head so the sweat wouldn’t drip into his eyes.

You purse your lips, the sun rays doing a fantastic job at highlighting your boyfriend’s sharp muscles.

Building and a show?

“What are you smiling about?” Jungkook appears with one of Mai’s boxes. You’ve been caught in a daydream and stutter your way out of it.

“Oh-uh, how glorious it’s going to be when I finish this first and get to sit back with Bam while you unpack that truck,” you lie.

Jungkook squats in front of you, “I thought you loved me.”

“I do,” you tap his nose with the flathead screwdriver, “I can love you and relax at the same time, can’t I?”

Jungkook laughs it off, leaning forward for a kiss, and when you motion to meet him the rest of the way, he dodges you and stands upright, laughing his way out of the room and leaving you with puckered lips and a curse to his name.

But who gets the last laugh? You think to yourself as you stand over Mai’s completed bed some hours later. Hands on your hips, Bam prances in and bumps your wrist with his nose.

“Not bad, huh, bud?” You press his floppy ear between your fingers, caressing his favorite spot, “let’s go rub it in your dad’s face.”

It wasn’t long ago that you heard Jungkook moving boxes into his bedroom down the hall, retracing his steps toward that room with a trophy smile on your face and a taunting remark at the helm, “Kook?”

All of that seeps away when you find him lying back on his naked mattress, hands folded on his stomach, and t-shirt back on. The sweat has since disappeared from his hair and his skin hasn’t a trace of red tint from the sun. He pokes his head up, “Finally.”

Your mouth drops open, “How?”

He laughs, head falling back and eyes relaxing, “You were so concentrated on finishing her bed, I didn’t want to bug you, but I enjoyed my forty-five-minute nap while waiting for you.”

You blink, mouth tightening when you hear a tapping sound.

“Winner gets cuddles,” he sounds off, his hand patting the space next to him, “come here.”

You stubbornly cross your arms instead. After a few seconds that feel like a lifetime, Jungkook sits up on his elbows. “Or I can toss you over my shoulder and tickle you instead, your choice, baby.”

You drag your feet over to the bed, crawling next to Jungkook but not before pushing him back down with a forceful thud against the pillowy mattress. You lay back in a huff, ignoring the way he’s snickering at your sore-loser mentality.

He clears his throat, “waiting…”

“Tch-” you throw your arms straight up into the air, allowing him to curl into your side, his arm lying across your chest, and head resting right next to yours. He lets out a contented sigh when you drape your arms around him, smirking when he feels your fingers card through his hair. As much as you hate losing to your boyfriend, the sore feelings never last when he cuddles into you like this.

You can feel him watching you, and you turn to playfully argue, but the twinkle in his eyes spark a fire in the pit of your stomach that makes you forget everything.

Before you can say anything, Jungkook is bringing your head closer to his until he pecks your lips. “Thank you for building her bed,” he says in a mindful tone; “I hoped we would do it together, but you looked determined.” His fingers threaded in your hair start to massage your scalp.

“I was,” your voice almost doesn’t make it out, making Jungkook giggle. He hums into another kiss against your lips, moving to hover over you this time. His hand is imprinted into the side of your neck, thumb sweeping across your jaw until it’s pressed against your chin.

It’s like pulling teeth when he moves away to take in your expression, your body hurdled into a war despite becoming pliable to his touch, your hand having inched a good distance beneath his shirt, but he has to see your face first. Neither of you says anything, allowing you to hear the alarm going off in your head.

Jungkook closes the gap, body on top of you. His lips brush against your skin, leaving it to tingle when he latches onto your neck. His hands move lower, seeking out the hem of your shirt.

You start to frown when he’s successful, moving his fingers underneath the material, effectively causing the imaginary alarm to blare around you. Mind aware and heart battering in your chest, you pull your hands away from his stomach and find his wrists, gripping them so tightly that Jungkook hisses.

“S-stop,” you say against his mouth, and Jungkook reacts with a cat-like sense, pulling back; “we have to stop.” He places his hands on either side of your head while his eyebrows knit together. You let out a shaking breath, pulling his arm up and away so you can roll off the bed and onto your feet.

He breathes a broken apology, “I misread-”

“I-um,” you’re chasing after steady breaths as you smooth your hair down, “it’s almost time to pick up Mai.”

Jungkook sits back on his feet, trying to hide his confusion because he can feel it from you. For those few minutes, you and Jungkook are finally on the same page.

Both of you aware there is still another hour or so before she gets out of school, he nods anyway.

After eating dinner together on a blanket in the middle of their empty house, Jungkook practically has to chase after you when you go out to your car. He’s impressed, albeit a little hurt too, at how quickly you get in before he can give you a proper goodbye. But not wanting to tip off his daughter that something weird is happening, he just waves as you back out of the driveway.

“Did you leave your homework out so I can check it?” Jungkook asks Mai once back at their old house, tucking her into bed.

Mai rolls her eyes, answering him like she has been interrogated, “Yes, Dad.”

He clamps his hand over her face, gently jolting her head side to side until she’s laughing, both of her hands wrapping around his wrist, “might want to re-think the way you answer me, bud.”

“Sorry,” she finally says once he releases her. He kisses her cheek, steeping in the few seconds she reaches her arms around his neck for a hug before he wishes her sweet dreams.

He falls onto the sofa with a loud huff, wine glass in hand, while the other is patting Bam’s thigh. There is hardly a time he didn’t enjoy having you there with him. Some nights with the two of you snuggled under a blanket watching a scary movie, others spent talking out in the backyard until it was time to go to bed, and the rest, kissing until you couldn’t keep your eyes open any longer. Admittedly, he enjoys those nights because he can watch you sleep for a little bit.

But tonight, he needs the time alone, even if his mind is ravaged with worry. The worry that started as a seedling the night you told him you weren’t ready was only growing. It started to sprout when you mentioned marriage.

Jungkook is more than willing to wait; that isn’t a question. Is it hard?

He sighs, eyes clamping shut; it is very hard. And not because he can’t control the need in him, but because he loves you. He wants to express that to you, and if he knows you at all, he can sense the same in you.

So what was stopping you?

His eyes pop open, temples throbbing when the answer bleeds into his brain.

Flashes of you throughout the years replay in front of him like an old film strip. Recalling the time after you both confessed, when you described to him the sheer aches in your body any time he talked about some date he went on. Or how sick you felt when he would leave a club with another woman running her nails against his back.

He curses when a vivid memory invades him, it doesn’t matter how tightly shut his eyes are. He can still see the look on your face.

After a night out with friends, you were ready to call it a night. Jungkook never carpooled, considering his after-party plans always varied. You roll your eyes at the thought, forcing it away because, at least for one night, he actually wanted to stay with all of you.

With your friends gathering their things, you ask Nic for her keys so you can wait in the car. She tells you Jungkook asked for them a little bit ago- something about a co-worker calling him, and he needed to take the call somewhere quiet. After two failed attempts at calling Jungkook, you text him this time.

[1:04 AM] to Jungkook: we’re coming out now, meet us at the car.

Off you go, surprised because, as tipsy as you are, you remember where it’s parked. You grimace as your feet pound, swollen from a night of dancing, as you make your way over. Spotting the car, you don’t see any sign of Jungkook, assuming he is already sitting in the back.

Pulling at the handle, you don’t hear the heavy breaths and sounds of ecstasy at first (also escaping you is the sheer terror that puts a stop to those noises when they hear the car door swing open).

It’s only when you bend to get into the backseat do you lock eyes with a friend of a friend before noticing her wrinkled dress. Worse, though, is when you look over a few inches and see Jungkook’s wide eyes blinking back at you.

All of you curse apologies before you slam the door shut, making for the building in a desperate jog back to the group. You can no longer feel the splitting pain in the heels of your feet, or how tired your legs are. You’re certain that how you just found your best friend, in a very compromising position with this woman, has sobered you up completely. Going amiss is the way Jungkook is buckling his belt and calling after you when he and the friend hastily fix themselves before stepping out of the car.

He abandons his glass of wine, dropping his head back against the sofa.

Jungkook wants you. He has so much he wants to prove to you. He wants to know what scares you but what he doesn’t expect is how vulnerable he’s been feeling. Marriage? He doesn’t disagree that there are still things to discuss.

He wonders if that ache in your body that you felt all that time ago is the same feeling pressing against his bones now.

“I know that look all too well.” Your mom walks back into the living room, finding you sitting with a cat in your lap, your attention taken by the ceiling they just had redone.

She meets your eyes with a knowing smile, patting your knee when she sits at the other end. The cat stretches and abandons you for her mother; “traitor,” you pout, lovingly swatting her fluffy tail. She spares you a single blink before cozying into your mom’s lap.

“Out with it,” your mom forwards the conversation. You want to laugh, hearing yourself in your mom.

Your fingers tingle with nostalgic feelings of a hormonal, teenage girl. Your mother can see the way you begin to blush beneath your skin, her senses causing her to draw back in a way that she knows can draw you out.

“Jungkook and I-ehm-” you struggle to start, “uh-we’re coming to our first- pothole? In our relationship, but it’s-ugh, it’s a big pothole, Mom.”

“Okay,” her eyes carefully observe you and the way you retreat into yourself. The daughter she raised, who is naturally so modest, so much so, you didn’t tell her when you first started your period until a week later; “something that has you feeling- hmm- nervous, maybe?”

“Mm,” you hum, picking at your fingernails despite the fresh manicure you just had done, “it’s weird, mom.”

She chuckles, “You want me to turn away while you tell me?”

Your expressionless eyes find hers in a deadpan. She presses her lips together apologetically, remembering all those years she would do so whenever you had something embarrassing to talk about with her. She chuckles when you nod before looking down at the purring cat in her lap.

You drop your face into your hands and laugh, though nothing about this is that amusing to you, “god if I can’t even talk to my own mother about it, how am I ever going to do it.”

“Honey,” your mom spats, “maybe start by using the proper terminology for it, you’re an adult for heaven’s sake, just say, ‘mom, I’m having trouble with the idea of making love-’”

“Oh, mom,” you grimace, covering your ears like a child, “please, I remember the crash course you gave me on proper sex terminology when I was in high school, okay?”

Your mom laughs, patting the cat’s behind until it jumps off, “Oh, you are too modest for your own good- okay okay.” She moves over to you, pulling your hands away from your head and placing them in your lap, “I’m all ears- whenever you’re ready.”

You drop your head back, resting it against the back of the sofa.

“I’m not going into grave detail-”

“Nor do I want you to, sweetheart,” your mom cuts in.

You close your eyes, lips tipped into a half smile, while your skin boils with sheer embarrassment.

“You and Dad- did you guys wait until you were married?” You’re surprised when the question makes it out into the open air. Your mom is quiet, pulling you to look at her. She answers with a simple shake of the head.

“How did you- when did you know you were ready?” You ask.

Your mom tips her head to the side in a thoughtful manner, “he proved to me long before that I was safe with him, his actions said a lot more than any of the sweet words other men used prior to when I was with daddy.”

Your eyes widen at the thought of your mom’s previous love life, abandoning that thought before it produces further in your head.

“I don’t feel unsafe with Jungkook,” you start to think more deeply, “he makes me feel heard, seen, and very wanted-” you breathe a soft laugh.

“Good, it’s what you deserve,” your mom nudges your chin with her knuckle, winking at you when you look at her, “but it’s okay if you want to wait until marriage honey, and Jungkook is a good man, raised with a lot of love, and by the way he could hardly take his eyes off of you the last time we were together, I can see he loves you and respects you. He’ll wait if those things continue to motivate him.”

You know those truths, you believe them. Jungkook is a good man who had a colorful love life that he readily abandoned for you. You know how understanding he is and to some degree, you know he would wait. Marriage. You want it, you want it with him, but Jungkook’s seeming hesitance to it makes the knot in your stomach grow.

“We’re human, we have natural desires, especially when we are in love with someone, and that’s okay too.” Your mom lifts her eyebrows when you give her a certain look, “What is it that’s making you hesitant?”

“What?” Your tired expression is clear on your face, causing Nic to push her hand against the door when you move to close it; “I am here to pull you out of your hole of self-pity,” she quips.

You sigh, too worn to put up a fight. She returns the same expression as she walks into your apartment, turning to face you when you shut the door behind you.

“You have to stop this, this isn’t healthy for you or for Jungkook, who has no idea why you’re ghosting him,” she parrots the same lecture she’s been texting you for the last week. You don’t respond, tilting your head to the side while you cross your arms.

“Seriously-”

“God, Nic, I don’t care, okay?! I told you this would never go past what I am choosing to keep to myself.” You spat.

Nic calls your name desperately, “Do you really believe that?” She waves her hands to keep you from answering that, “Okay- whatever if you do, but how do you expect your friendship with Jungkook to last when you randomly cut him off like this? I know he’s annoying, it can be questionable the number of women he sleeps with but it’s his life. Like, come on, the guy has zero clue about your feelings. So he’s going to keep doing what he does best if you never tell him.”

“Nic-”

In her frustration, Nic, who is usually sound, has come to her wits end about it; “This is a waste of time anyway, the guy can’t commit to a single thing.”

You inhale sharply, misty eyes looking into your lap. It was the only fight you and Nic had that carried scars, though the two of you worked it out soon after. You apologized for roping her into that mess while she apologized for speaking so thoughtlessly.

“I just want to be sure he is committed to me first,” you admit, voice as small as the pattering feet of a garden mouse.

Your mom nods, pinching her lips together in a sympathetic smile, “I am sure he wants the same thing, sweetheart.”

Busy schedules and tempered feelings create more time away than you consciously intended. While seeing them for only a few hours at a time as opposed to your usual nights with them, Mai and Jungkook are in their last week at the old house. Walking into its near emptiness, you’re glad you brought the things you had to help Mai get ready for the dance.

Jungkook doesn’t outwardly question the recent distance, having filled his time with more open houses than he normally would. He has to remind himself to stay grounded while keeping you in his grasp, while his daughter has been growing quieter by the day.

It surprises him when she jumps into your arms, running her mouth a mile a minute about how excited she is that you both bought matching-colored dresses for the dance. Jungkook barely has a chance to kiss you before Mai pulls you down the hallway to start getting ready.

You curl the last piece of Mai’s hair, feeling her dark eyes fan over you for the umpteenth time through the bathroom mirror. With bobby pins between your teeth, you let out a breathy laugh, combing your fingers through her curls.

“Something on my face, bean?” You twist a section of her hair and pin it to the back of her head, doing the same on the other side of her face.

“Na-uh,” a faint smile wiggles onto her face, hands busying themselves with the hair products strewn across the bathroom counter. Her eyes move up to yours once more, alight with Jeon-like wonder.

You protect her eyes with your hand, “deep breath and hold it,” you instruct her, a cloud of hairspray falling over her perfectly done hair, “there we go.”

Mai opens her eyes and beams back at her reflection, eyes darting up to your face and for a moment, you see that light in her flicker brightly.

“Woah, look at my girl,” Jungkook surprises the pair of you, leaning against the door frame. Mai squeals, pushing past him and running to her bedroom, “You can’t see me yet, Dad!” You and Jungkook laugh; “geez, Kook,” you tease him, pecking his cheek before retreating to Mai’s room.

Jungkook ventures off to his room, getting himself ready to be a chaperone for the dance. An adoring smile appears on his face because any small gesture like the joke you made, gave him hope that the two of you would always be okay. For that minute, he didn’t worry about the right timing or what your future together looked like aside from knowing you wanted to be together forever. Jungkook knew that much.

After taking a slew of photos like it was prom night, the three of you walk into the school auditorium with Mai bouncing in her new dress shoes you bought for her, her hands holding tightly onto yours and her dad’s. She wears a proud smile, missing teeth and all, beaming up at you, she wastes no time begging you for a dance.

“Have fun,” Jungkook motions to kiss her forehead when she takes a large step back. Small voice struggling to voice off above the loud music, “daddy,” she whines through gritted teeth, “my friends are here.”

He frowns, grabbing both sides of her head and planting a kiss on her forehead; “My hair!” She squeaks.

He makes quick work to smooth down her curled tresses, “Deny your dad’s kiss again and I’ll kiss you on the lips next time, bean.” Jungkook playfully threatens Mai.

You pinch back a smile, rubbing his shoulder, before Mai pulls you into the mass of mothers and daughters. Jungkook doesn’t steep in reverence over his daughter’s attitude for long, conversing his way through a crowd of parent-acquaintances before finding a place against the wall where he can watch the two of you.

Lost in that sight, he doesn’t shy away from smiling and giggling to himself. Jungkook pushes his hands inside his pockets, making it a point to silently tell himself to remember this exact moment. A smile stains his daughter’s lips while she looks up at you, and if he concentrates enough, the music disappears, and instead, he hears her giggling when you spin her around twice. Mai’s eyes are shut, lost in a fit of laughter, struggling to stand on steady feet, her arms wrapping around you to keep from falling. Your head tosses back, caught between breathy laughs as your hands hold onto the little girl’s shoulders.

“Mr. Jeon,” a familiar voice calls out to him. Hesitantly, he takes his eyes off you and Mai and sees Mrs. Yoon. He shakes her hand, a warm smile appears on her face when she looks over at his daughter.

“Nice to see her smiling,” Mrs. Yoon admits, “she’s so quiet these days, I almost miss how chatty she was during my class, not sure if her other teachers would agree-” she chuckles, shrugging.

Jungkook rocks back on his feet, agreeing quietly.

“How is her classwork?” He inquires. Mrs. Yoon tells him it still needs improvement, but with more diligence on Mai’s end, her grade should pick up before school lets out for vacation.

The two settle for polite chat before Mrs. Yoon leaves him be. Jungkook finds the two of you again, stomach churning as he recalls that shift in his daughter. How evident it’s become in the last few weeks, especially without you there as often.

But tonight, he smiles, watching his daughter. No traces of her unexplained silence or that she is a little less talkative and hyper. He just sees Mai, the light of his life.

A laugh slips out of him, drawing others around him to look in the direction his eyes are fixed. A new song starts to play, and Mai jumps when she realizes what’s playing. Her mouth rounds, arms sticking straight up, “It’s our song!” She shouts at you.

Your lips curve into a wide smile, heart palpitating because she remembered you telling her months ago that this song reminded you of her. Mai screeches with glee when you lift her into your arms, her arms tying around your neck. For a moment, a toddler Mai appears right before your eyes, and you remember how her hands could not quite yet reach each other when she held you around your neck. An unexpected rush of love swells your heart just like it did all those years ago.

Mai giggles close to your ear as the two of you sing the lyrics together. You pull your face back to watch her expressions; her happiness creating an insurmountable feeling of ecstasy. It’s overwhelming and everything you need. Holding her in your arms, you hope it’s the same for her.

Jungkook blinks away the tears spilling in his eyes, his cheeks hurting from how long he’s been smiling. He starts singing the lyrics to distract himself, recalling that night.

It had become a tradition of sorts, ending dinner out in the backyard so Mai and Bam could use up the last of their energy. You and Jungkook would watch them, sometimes joining in on a game of tag or hide and seek.

He looks at you for a second, smiling when you start to giggle. Your eyes watching Mai; “what?” He asks.

“Hm,” you chuckle, “this is my ‘Mai’ playlist,” You turn to look at him, revealing a bashful smile, “this is our song.” Jungkook makes an effort to listen to the lyrics that utter sentiments of an enchanting meeting.

Before the song can end, Jungkook makes his way over to the two of you, making himself the only dad out on the floor.

He brushes his hand down Mai’s hair who was too lost in hugging you while the rest of the song played.

“Oh, hey,” you chuckle, Mai’s cheek still pressed against yours. Mai is quick to move her arm around Jungkook’s neck, pulling him close until his nose bumps your other cheek. The three of you giggle, making room for an extra set of feet. Jungkook settles to wrap you both in his arms, his left arm hugging your waist while the other rests around Mai’s.

He kisses the side of Mai’s head, a long sigh slipping past his lips when he finds you, your eyes already on him. You hear a few clicks of the school photographer’s camera nearby, allowing them to capture this moment of the three of you. Mai sings along to the song while holding onto the two of you, you and Jungkook sharing in a silent conversation. But you can hear him loud and clear, the love he has for you reaches across and ties around your heart.

“I love you, bean.” You press a long kiss on her cheek, coming back to see a blushing little babe, “thanks for taking me to the dance.” Mai holds your cheeks, showing you her smile because she knows how much you love to see her missing teeth, “love you,” she follows.

“You have fun?” You chuckle, tucking the comforter around her.

She nods, “I think we danced the best,” she yawns. Brushing her hair out of her face, you push your finger into her cheek, “We did, you’re a great dance partner.”

Jungkook appears with a soft giggle, his shirt untucked and feet now bare. He comes over to say goodnight, bending down to kiss Mai before sitting on the edge of the bed. For a moment, it’s quiet, you notice Mai look up at you then back at her dad.

“I need to tell daddy something,” she starts, “but you can’t be here.”

You roll your lips in, trying not to laugh before granting them their privacy.

“What’s up, bud?” Jungkook leans over Mai’s legs, propping his head against his hand.

“Mm,” Mai purses her lips, “it kinda’ felt like-” he can see her cheeks growing red, eyes struggling to meet his. He assures her with a smile, reaching over to brush his finger across her chin, “You feel happy?”

Mai nods, pulling her blanket up to hide the smile growing on her face, “It felt like I had a mom.” Her words come out quickly and muffled behind the blanket.

Jungkook’s heart stutters, finger tapping against his daughter’s cheek, “yeah?”

Mai nods again, “but don’t tell her.”

Jungkook drops his head, laughing into his daughter’s mattress.

He kisses her goodnight once more, allowing Bam to sleep with her for the night. Mai rests her small hand on top of Bam’s head when he lies on her stomach. His puppy eyes looking up at Jungkook; “just tonight,” he reiterates.

You stare at your phone, re-watching a video of you dancing with Mai that one of the moms sent to you. Jungkook slides his arms around your waist, causing you to jump up, “god,” you laugh with him, leaning your head back when he kisses you there.

“What’s that?” He muffles into your hair, twisting his head around to kiss your cheek before he’s resting his chin on top of your shoulder. His hands glide across your stomach when you play the video.

You feel his chest bounce against your back when he giggles, “Guess I wasn’t the only one who enjoyed watching you guys,” Jungkook admits. You turn your head to look at him before kissing his forehead.

It doesn’t take much for Jungkook to become lost in you, completely wrapped up and overtaken by absolute love. His lips hardly detach from yours when he turns you around in his arms. Heavy breath fanning over your face. Admittedly, you can’t deny what he stirs up in you. These feelings that battle against the fears demanding to be felt by you.

He groans against your kiss, pulling away to drop his forehead against your shoulder. You bite your lip, knowing already what’s starting. You rub the back of his head.

He reappears, his pupils blown out into hundreds of tiny hearts, “I love you,” he blushes, breathy chuckle escaping him, “this is going to sound like the douchiest thing I’ll ever say to you but, I love you so much it’s starting to hurt.”

A battle of tug of war starts inside of you, one end of the rope tugging you closer to Jungkook. You rub your palm down his cheek, your soft laugh falling in his ears, “it’s a little cringe but-” you shrug, your other hand dropping around his hip, “I love you, too.”

He closes the space, seeking out your lips. That rope inside you tugging you back when his palms smooth over your hips before pressing into them with his fingers. He walks backward until your lower back hits the kitchen counter.

“You’re so good to us,” he whispers into the kiss he’s pressing against your ear. Biting your lip, your hands push against him- everything in you wanting to give in. And for a moment, with your boyfriend’s lips trailing down your shoulder, you feel that wall begin to crumble brick by brick.

“I love you,” he parrots against your skin, tattooing you with another chaste kiss.

He stops, pressing his forehead against yours. You fall into his dark pools, a spark in them blinding you. All at once, the bricks build back up, and the need to protect yourself jolts through you like a lightning bolt.

Out of body, you can feel when Jungkook’s hands brush across your bottom, but in your place is another woman. You can’t see her face, you just know it isn’t you. He’s holding her close, his lips tantalizingly grazing her skin.

“Kook,” you stutter.

He moans in response, lips pressed against your clavicle, warm tongue pushing beyond the seam of his lips. A different woman appears this time, body stamped with Jungkook’s languid and thoughtful touches.

Your mind wages a war between the man in love with you and the man from the past.

He doesn’t commit. He loves you, but he won’t commit to you.

“Jungkook,” you push with more fervency, but you see the haze over him. You see that look in his eye that he’d given countless women on your nights out as friends. Just friends.

“Stop it-” you push him away, and his body gives at the first sound of panic in your tone. His hair is disheveled, lips stained with you.

“What-” he tries to piece together some sort of understanding, breathless.

“Don’t you listen?” Your tone is so defensive, it causes a piercing pain inside of him. Your shoulder hits him as you make your way to the door.

He drops his head, eyes clamped shut, while something bigger brews inside of him.

Of course, he hears you. He always hears you. Not having you, that wasn’t the entire problem.

All of these thoughts ravage his mind, and he follows you like a trailblazer, shutting the front door before you can escape.

“What are you doing?” His irritation only sets yours ablaze.

You pull your arm away before he can touch you, “trying to leave-”

“No,” he struggles through frustration, “why are we skirting around this? Tell me what’s bothering you.”

“I have the right to say no-”

“Baby,” he tosses his hands in the air, an exasperated laugh falling out of him, “shi- of course I know that. But I’m at a loss, we’ve been all over each other enough times before, what changed? Kissing you is starting to feel like I’m forcing you-”

You shake your head, “I’m not one of your women, Jungkook, don’t treat me like them.”

His face falls, everything on his body falls; your name draws out of him, “I’ve never seen you as anyone else but the woman I love-the woman I have so much damn respect for…”

“Then commit to me,” your voice shakes out of you, surprising even you, “prove to me that that’s true and tell me you’d want to marry me.”

Jungkook drops his head, tongue pushing into the side of his cheek.

A tempered laugh falls out of you, “or should I sleep with you first? Would that make it easier for you to commit-”

“What are you-are you serious?” Jungkook cracks, “How much more can I prove to you?” The shattering in his eyes bores right into you, “Do I need to tattoo it onto my chest-” he grabs the collar of his shirt and yanks it open, “to prove to you that I love you and I am dedicated to you? Wh-why do we need a stupid piece of paper to prove our love for each other? What does it matter if you can’t trust what I’m saying- if you can’t trust me?”

“Why don’t you want to get married? Why is it stupid?” You rap back.

“Because!” He yells out of frustration, hands tossed forward, “I’m afraid you’re just going to leave me! What good does a paper do when you can’t even stand me touching you? It won’t make you stay-” his words drop like an atomic bomb, an eerie silence following.

He sniffles, barely able to look in your direction. Your hands ache from how tightly fisted they are, chest weighed down from holding back the tears inside.

“Just go,” he opens the door, “if you really believe I’ve only seen you as some other woman this entire time, still? Then leave.”

You blink, flashes of the past taunting you before you escape to your car. Jungkook stares at the door after you leave, defeat washed over him.

Jungkook throws himself into packing up their house and moving into the new one. Between work, taking care of Mai, and moving, he isn’t allowed to think about anything else, too tired by the end of the night to lie awake in bed. The only time he entertains a thought about you is when Mai sleeps in her brand-new bed for the first night.

Jungkook sends you a picture of it, Mai giving a thumbs up, sitting at the head of the bed you built for her. A second later he FaceTimes you and for a moment you hesitate to answer, waiting to the last second before you hit that green button.

Mai’s face appears on the screen, you notice the downward turn in her eyes immediately before she’s distracting you with a loud thanks. Her smile makes the butterflies in your stomach come alive.

When she’s done talking, she hands the phone back to her dad. His eyes struggle to keep their focus on you while he tells Mai to get under the blanket, “We’re uh- we’re still good for next week?” He finally looks at you. You nod. He has a brief trip for a seminar, leaving Mai to stay at your apartment for a couple of days during the week.

“Can we bring Bammie-” Jungkook is already cutting Mai off, telling her he’ll wreck your apartment by his sheer size. You chuckle, enjoying the father-daughter moment before Jungkook tells you goodnight. He stalls for a second, running his teeth over his lips like he does when he’s thinking about something.

I love you.

“Goodnight,” you fill in the gap before hanging up.

“Listen,” Jungkook starts, and Mai can hear the immediate stiffening in his tone when he sits next to her, the double-size mattress allowing him the space now, “just because you’re sleeping over there doesn’t mean you stop doing your homework-”

Mai whines, her head falling back dramatically. Jungkook tells her to sit up, holding his hand around her neck when she lulls it to the side, “I am serious Mai, this is the third time I’m meeting your teacher about your schoolwork, enough is enough.”

Mai whips out of his grip, wiggling beneath her blanket and pulling it tight so he can’t get to her. Jungkook sighs, “You know we can talk about anything that might be upsetting you, right?” He looks down as she thins her lips, big eyes avoiding his stare.

“What’s gotten into you? Somethings’ gotta be going on, bean…” His worries expand, wondering if he’s missed a tell-tale sign because he’s been so distracted trying to keep his relationship with you intact. The doubt he has about being a good enough partner for you is taken by his doubt as a father. A doubt he hasn’t felt since Mai was born, even now, it runs deeper.

“Nothing,” Mai mutters, hugging one of her stuffed animals against her chest, “I wanna sleep, Dad.”

Jungkook nods, blinking slowly, “I love you…”

Mai turns away from him, pressing her head into the pillow, “love you.”

For a few minutes you enjoy watching Mai eat her snack, missing the way she can’t normally sit still and talking with a mouthful. She still smiles when she finds you looking, but there's a lack in her eyes that has you wondering the same questions her dad does.

Her eyebrows raised as she tosses a baby carrot in her mouth, “Are you and Dad gonna break up?”

Your eyes widen, “I see subtlety is not your strong suit, smarty pants…how do you come to these conclusions?”

She rolls her eyes telling you she has no idea what that means before bringing her point home, “you and dad were yelling after the dance and dad never yells unless I’m in real big trouble,” she emphasizes with her eyes, “or when Bam used to poop in the house except dad scared-yelled then, not angry-yelled. I think Bammie is his favorite now-”

“Mai,” you laugh, “really?”

Mai pokes out her bottom lip, tipping her shoulder up in a very matter-of-fact way.

A smirk leans across your lips, “Need I remind you, you are seven-”

Mai holds her hand up after taking a big bite of the sandwich you made for her, a little bit of mayo left on the corner of her mouth, “almost eight!”

“Yes, but you’re still a kid who needs to mind her own business,” you say, reaching over to pinch her nose.

“Just saying,” she defends herself, “plus, you aren’t staying for sleepovers anymore either…”

You stay quiet, pressing your cup of chilled tea against your lips.

“You probably wouldn’t want to anyways, the new house is sad,” Mai sighs, “everyone is just sad.”

A pang of guilt runs through you, “that everyone include you too?”

She leans her cheek against her hand, “even daddy and me are fighting…kinda’.”

You click your tongue, leaning across the counter to be closer to her, “Your grandma has been filling me in - what’s that about?”

She shrugs, mumbling, ‘I don’t know.’

You take in her mostly expressionless face, but her eyes tell an entirely different story of the one she isn’t saying.

“Hey, cutie,” you tap her chin, causing her to look up, “you know I’m here, right? I’m not going anywhere.”

“I know,” she surprises you with a quick response, “you promised me.”

You comb your fingers back through her hair, “and look, just because your dad and I are dealing with adult things,” you arch an eyebrow to make your point, “doesn’t mean he’s upset with you about it- so maybe go easy on him, hm? He’s just worried about you.”

“If I have to do that, why don’t you do it too for daddy?” Mai retorts. Her eyes shoot open when she realizes what she’s just said, retreating into herself; “sorry.”

You brush the comment away, clearing your throat.

“All he does anymore is ask about my dumb grades,” Mai starts again, pouting this time, “or if I was good in class and nice to the other kids.”

A sympathetic smile widens your grin, “Well, your track record hasn’t exactly been spotless lately…”

“I’m trying still,” Mai reasons, “daddy doesn’t see it, nobody sees it, but hello? I’m still a kid, I can’t do everything!”

You spat, dropping your head because somehow, Mai always finds a way to let her spunk shine.

“Well,” you come around the breakfast nook and stand next to her, “let’s keep trying and do some of that make-up work you have, or else we will both be in trouble.” Mai hops off the bar stool and takes your hand, the two of you walking into your living room.

Jungkook returns from his brief trip with a little bit of hope, having seen how much Mai perked up with you through short videos she sent from your phone or selfies of the two of you posted on your social media.

When he called to check in on the night he arrived at his hotel, there was a moment he thought you would talk. A shift in your breathing had him preparing the words swimming in his mind, wanting more than anything for you to know he is still in this. But somewhere his courage to talk about it was lost, he couldn’t be sure if it was you or him that redirected that conversation before you said goodnight. You both knew a conversation needed to happen. Jungkook makes an effort in a roundabout way by asking you out for dinner a few times. But swamped with two deadlines, working from home conveniently keeps you busier than before.

It’s both surprising and unsurprising when Nic tells you she’s staying out of it.

“You don’t listen to me anyway,” she said in a recent phone call, “because for some reason you like to torture yourself and you’re going to hate me for this, but- you like to torture him too, with silence. I’ve known you two long enough to know your patterns and- wait no-nope, nope nope- I said I was staying out of it, so I’m zipping it…”

You couldn’t deny it.

“I’m pulling up to the school now,” Jungkook tells you over the phone, a sigh dripping from his lips when he puts the car in park, waiting in a line of cars with the other parents, “you’re heading over now?”

“Mhm,” you answer, “just realized I don’t have a key to the new house though-”

He looks down at the extra key he had made for you when the house was officially signed over to him months ago, keeping it on his keyring because he initially planned to ask you to move in before that plan was - postponed? He blinks, coming out of his thoughts, “I’m sorry, it’s been uh-”

“I know,” you breathe. The sound of it eases over Jungkook; “I bought some groceries to make dinner for all of us,” Jungkook can hear you nervously chewing on your lip between sentences, “then I thought maybe-um- we could have some alone time after Mai goes to bed, to talk…”

His lips stretch upward with relief, “Yes, please.” His eyes find Mai who is walking out of the building with her friend. Her friend whispering something close to her ear; innocent little secrets, Jungkook thinks to himself.

He hears you gulp, “Maybe I should save this for later, but I’m sorry and I love you-” Jungkook can feel his heart fluttering, eyes still watching Mai, when the next sight of her has his heart plummeting into his stomach.

Did she just smack her friend?

A few teachers nearby see it, rushing over to the two girls when Mai raises her hand to repeat her previous action.

“What- Mai!” Jungkook stretches his head out toward the open passenger window, the streak of panic in his voice has you almost dropping your phone; “what’s wrong?” You ask in a frenzy.

“I need to call you back.” Jungkook hangs up before you can answer. He rips his seatbelt off and hurries off to the curb in a few brisk steps, grabbing Mai’s arm to pull her away from her friend. The little girl is crying, holding her hand against her head where Mai slapped her.

“What are you thinking?” Jungkook scolds Mai when she starts to cry, pushing against his leg in an attempt to set herself free from his strong grip.

“Mr. Jeon,” Ms. Choi, who was standing near the entrance, called him in a shaking tone, “let’s go to my office, now please?”

Mai’s friend and mother are ushered off to the nurse's room for an ice pack while Jungkook and Mai pile into the principal’s office along with the teachers who witnessed it.

He can’t deny that he just watched his daughter hit her friend, nor does he try, his skin hot with frustration as Mai tries to excuse her way out of it. Her words are jumbled by her erratic crying.

“I’m going to go talk to them in a separate room,” Ms. Choi says, still a little shaken, “give her a chance to calm down while I get their side of the story.”

“Daddy,” Mai cries to Jungkook when the principal leaves the room.

He turns his head, eyebrows straight on his face, “I don’t want to hear it right now-”

“But-”

“When we get home, Mai,” he raises his voice enough to quiet her.

After a lengthy discussion, with little to no explanation given by Mai once prompted, the principal decides she has no choice but to suspend Mai from school for the remaining weeks left until summer vacation. She informs Jungkook that Mai only has make-up work she needs to complete in order to move onto the next grade.

“I hope you understand why we need to do this, Mr. Jeon,” Ms. Choi says in a softer tone, a certain telling on her face before she continues, “I know single-parenting is not easy,” she lets out a heavy sigh, “my-my husband passed away a few years ago.” Jungkook can feel himself crawling beneath her pity, “but we will not tolerate physical violence. We’ve had Mai with us for seven years, and we’d love to have her back for the new school year, but only if these issues are handled accordingly.”

He doesn’t say anything more than agreement and an apology following Mai’s bitter one. His hand fits around Mai’s elbow as they walk back out to their car. She struggles beneath his tight grip, proving unsuccessful when he opens the door for her to get into the back; “you’re being mean!” She yells. Jungkook takes a deep breath, tossing her bag into the back, using all his control not to slam the door shut.

The drive is silent besides Mai’s whimpers, short words uttered that Jungkook is too angry to hear himself. Too confused. The only settling he feels is when you get out of your car as they pull up, a lost expression on your face when the two of you make eye contact.

“Hey bean-” you’re cut off when Mai brushes past you, her tears and anger very evident. You look up at Jungkook when he retrieves her things, his head shaking. You rub his back as the two of you walk up to the door, letting Mai in, who is ready to run to her room.

“Stop,” Jungkook’s voice booms through the once quiet home. Bam, who was eager to welcome all of you, retreats to his bed; “Come back here, Mai.”

Mai turns back at the sound of her dad’s tone, eyes flitting past you, and you can see the embarrassment. You know he wouldn’t talk to her like this if it wasn’t serious, but your heart aches at the way her cheeks start to turn red; “I’ll uh- I’ll start dinner,” you look down at Mai whose arms are crossed, tears still running down her face, “maybe you should take her in your room, Kook-”

“Daddy won’t listen,” Mai surprises you both, her small voice rising in volume, “I don’t wanna talk!”

With wide eyes, you meet Jungkook’s less than pleased ones, though you know he is stirring beneath shock as well; “Mai, you don’t raise your voice at-”

“You don’t hear me, nobody hears me!” She screams at him, hands fisted so tight as she runs off to her room.

Jungkook starts to follow her when you squeeze his arm, eyes begging him to stay. The strain in his face has you feeling for both of them, “give her a minute.”

Jungkook curses, parts of him healed when he feels you rub his arm, “I have a showing, I can’t cancel again-”

You pat his shoulder, “Go, I’ll um-I’ll do what I can here after she cools off.”

Jungkook thanks you with a silent stare, stepping forward to kiss you when he stops himself. For a moment, he’d forgotten about the unsettled ground the two of you are standing on. You grab his hand and rub his palm, “Go, babe.” He kisses the palm of your hand before he rushes out the door.

You busy yourself with dinner, chopping up vegetables, starting the rice, and preparing the meat, while you’ve given yourself enough of a pep talk before journeying towards Mai’s room.

“Bean,” your tone is careful but direct, knocking a couple of times before inching the door open, “it’s just me.” You poke your head in, eyes immediately falling on the bed where Mai is face-planted into the pillow. You have to bite back a smile, moving over carefully.

You stroke her back once before sitting next to her. For a minute, you think she might be sleeping when you hear her sniffle, her small body jolting, which tells you she is starting to cry again. You can’t help but feel a pang in your chest, knowing there needs to be some sort of discipline. But whatever occurred, the sheer pain it’s causing Mai becomes most evident to you.

“You gotta’ come up for air at some point,” you giggle, tears casting over your eyes, “come on, little one.” For that moment, Mai is the tiny baby you need to save.

You continue to run your hand up and down her back, moving her hair out of the way. Mai refuses to sit up for the first few minutes, but when she finally does, her reddened face struggles to find you.

You wipe her tears away and brush her hair back before leaving for a few minutes. Mai’s cries are quieted when you return with a dampened face towel.

You press the warm towel around Mai’s face and to the back of her neck, repeating those motions while the strain begins to seep out of her slowly; “my mom used to do this whenever I was upset-” you tell her.

Mai finally looks into your eyes, her long eyelashes are wet and clumped together. But you can see a slight shift when you smile at her, “always made me feel better.”

You can see the questions in her mind, maybe wondering how well you’ll listen to her.

“Feel like telling me what happened?” You settle into her bed, sitting back against the headboard. Mai stays stiff for a few seconds, eyes wandering back toward you until she’s scooting back herself. Her arm rests next to yours, fingers playing with the fringe around her pillowcase.

Hearing about Mai getting physical and slapping her friend makes your insides jump. You watch her explain what Jungkook must have seen, trying to keep your mind focused on her voice rather than the questions permeating there. It’s only when Mai starts to cry, looking up at you, do you realize something more is creeping beneath her unexplained anger.

So you wait, taking Mai’s hand in yours while she cries, her head finding a place against your shoulder. You know even more how confused her dad must be, and when she starts to talk again, you know nothing could prepare him for this.

“There was a n-new girl in my math class,” Mai is disrupted by a heavy cry, swallowing back as much as she can before she continues, “my friend told her I don’t have a mom-”

The wind is knocked out of you, you shut your eyes, hand accidentally tightens around Mai’s.

“And they all started to make f-fun of me-me,” Mai hiccups.

Your heart shatters when Mai tells you the bullying began months ago, when school started. Thoughtless words meant to hurt her, taunted by a group of kids who were eventually joined by Mai’s friend. You press your lips together, holding back cries of anger and sadness, every emotion becoming a deluge inside of you, just waiting to break free.

But you continue to wait, only stopping Mai to remind her that she can still breathe.

“I called that girl that mean name because during reading time-” Mai finds you again as if to make sure you are still listening and you nod, wiping her tears though they continue to fall, “because she-she would say mean things about me not having a mom li-like they do.” Mai’s face falls against your arm; you wrap your hand behind her head.

“I thought that if-I thought if you came to the dance with me, they would stop because you’re kinda’ like my mom,” her staccato cries jump against your arm where her mouth is pressed.

You turn to face Mai, holding her wet face between your hands, “It didn’t stop,” she cries, “they just got meaner.”

“Mai,” you’re at a loss for words, breath thinning as you pull her into your lap. Her cries deepen when she feels you cradle her in your arms, pressing her face against your chest.

All you can do is let her cry, her tears staining your skin and wetting the collar of your t-shirt, “it’s not my fault-it’s not.”

“No, it’s not bean,” you can’t stop the tsunami from flooding out of her, pressing kisses onto the top of Mai’s head while repeating that truth.

No. No. No. This is not your fault.

Bam finds his way in at the sound of Mai’s sorrow. You hold her as closely as you can, her uneven breaths casting over your neck as she continues to cry there. At some point, her tears become lost with yours as you think about the year she must have endured.

Quietly. Silently.

It all adds up.

“I love you, Mai,” you say in a trembling breath, “I am so sorry you’ve been hurting.”

Pain finds form in various ways, like the way your eyes strain from crying. It moves you to look down at Mai who has cried every tear she can, her eyes pressed closed and swollen now. Your hand has become numb from where it’s stayed around her back, the other brushing through her hair. Nothing else existed in those moments while you held her. The evening of her breath, the tears that eventually stopped, the way her small hand rested underneath her cheek, that’s all that mattered.

Her whimpering slows into short hums as you rock back and forth, the slow movement allowing her to feel the first peace she’s felt in a while. Her long body barely fits in your lap like it used to, but neither of you cares. A few times she looks up at you, before she reaches up to wipe the stray tears you shed yourself.

“I didn’t mean to make you cry,” she squeaks, voice hoarse.

You smile despite it all, “You are worth every tear, bean.” A memory of Mai as a baby, held in your arms, rushes you. She notices the way your eyes water again, causing her to smile this time.

Four teeth missing, you think to yourself.

“We’re babies,” she jokes, hiccuping from the last few cries that still sit in her chest. You lean down and nuzzle your nose against her forehead.

“Hey-” Jungkook’s voice appears, neither of you hearing the front door when he walked in. His eyes lift when Mai looks at him, the obvious face of his crying child clear to him. He then moves over your face as you wipe it dry, noting to himself the way you are holding Mai, much like you did all those years ago when she was a baby and Jungkook asked you to be at his old apartment with them.

“Daddy-” Mai sounds breathless for a moment, rushing out of your arms and into his. He doesn’t hesitate to lift her into his embrace. He questions you when she holds him around his neck, the sound of gentle sniffling starting up in his ear.

“Mai needs to talk to you,” you breathe, and Jungkook can hear the unevenness in your tone. So he walks back to the bed, sitting Mai in his lap when he sits next to you.

Mai looks at you, waiting for that nod of reassurance. Your hand searches for Jungkook’s, wrapping your fingers around his when Mai starts to tell the same story to him.

The sun has fallen, and crickets chirp from their places in the backyard. A smile finds its way on your face, thinking about the security you felt wrapped around you when Jungkook hugged both you and Mai. Once he learned about the bullying, all he could do was hold onto his daughter, bringing you with them. Mai cried with him while you braved your tears away for the time being.

His hand brushes your shoulder when he comes out, slotting himself between your legs this time, his back against your chest. You ease his head back until it rests against your shoulder, combing his hair back with your fingers.

You can see the tears still there and the way he tries to blink them away, eyes searching the black sky painted above you; “I can’t believe I didn’t know this was going on.” Jungkook’s breath is unsteady. It stays quiet for a beat before he sits up, moving to sit next to you, his body leaning forward.

You watch this pillar of a man, the love of your life, crumble. Eyes blinking rapidly to phase the tears away, you touch his back with a cautious hand. His eyes are wet when he looks at you. “I’m trying,” he laughs desperately, “I’m trying my best here because I love my kid.”

“Jungkook, you have been an excellent father. Nobody is expecting perfection, especially Mai. All she wants is your love, and you’ve never been short of giving that to her…” The crease in your brow deepens. “There’s a lot to figure out, and we’ll start by going to the school tomorrow.”

“I called Ms. Choi after Mai fell asleep - gave her a brief explanation,” Jungkook says, “we’re going to meet tomorrow with those kids and their parents.”

“Good,” you brush your thumb over his ear, “I can-I can go, if you want me-”

He’s already nodding before you can finish, “We need you there.” Your heart squeezes at the despair in his voice.

You see it in his eyes that he’s not just talking about Mai. You feel your throat constrict when he doesn’t turn away from you, sitting upright; “god, I’m trying here too - to understand you. Trying to figure out what works best for us because I don’t want this to end. I am committed to you…” All of this rolls out of him.

You bite your lip when it starts to tremble.

“I know why you stopped talking to me all those times back then, when you caught me,” he shakes his head, “I hate thinking about it, knowing now how you felt about me, I get it.” He looks at you, fingers finding yours; “it still hurt though, not having you to talk to or to be around even if it was just for a few days we didn’t talk- I always knew something was wrong.”

The determination to hold your gaze sits bright on Jungkook’s face, traces of guilt in your fingertips that rub across the tattoos on his hand; “I never imagined marriage in my future- and maybe it’s not fair for me to be afraid but,” he lets out a disheartened laugh, wiping his face, “how do I marry someone that runs away before we can face the problem, someone who looks, I don’t know, horrified, whenever I touch her?”

Your eyes fall into your lap, tears dripping much like Mai’s did. Jungkook turns until his knee hits yours, his hand moving to rest on the side of your thigh. It’s love that you feel when he starts smoothing his palm there.

“That night, after I stopped you in your bedroom,” you sniffle, following courage to lift your head and look him in the eye, “I st-started to see all of these women just there every time you kissed me or touched me. They taunted me, made me feel incompetent…” you laugh, tears falling one after the other.

Jungkook loves you with his eyes, waiting on bated breath while you string together every word you can; “Jungkook I want to take the next step but, I have a lot of fears when it comes to that with you and I started to believe there was no other way to commit but get married, an-and I want that too but-” he never takes his eyes off of you as you continue to work through your words, “I’m afraid, I’m afraid that I won’t add up to whatever you are expecting from me.”

He leans in closer and wraps his hands around your neck, moving them across your skin so you can feel him, him - Jungkook- the man you love, “you…that’s all I expect is you, you are all I want.”

Your face falls, and as a wave of relief crashes over you, you realize the thing you feared most held the answer you’ve so desperately needed.

“I respect you,” he continues, dropping his hands to rest on top of your legs, “I don’t want to do anything you aren’t ready for… I also just love you,” he sniffles a brief laugh, “I want to show you that.”

You move your hand behind his neck, tenderly rubbing his skin, “I-I want to too-I really do. I just-” you sigh, carefully piecing together all you’ve observed about this man over the years, “you don’t have to always be physical with me to show me you love me. Y-your love for me goes beyond how you can make my body feel, Jungkook.”

It’s then he realizes the crutch he’s used for so many years before dating you.

If nobody was willing to accept his love, at least they would accept his body.

But here, sitting with you, having you next to him? For the first time, Jungkook takes a deep breath and lets it all go. You love him for the man he is inside, as torn as he may be in parts, you accept him despite your own fears.

“I’m sorry,” you breathe, moving your hand down his arm until it lands safely inside of his. He takes your fingers and threads them through his. “I’m sorry for making you feel like this.”

“I’m sorry too, baby,” his eyes dart up to yours. A tender laugh falls out of you, stomach doing flips as you pull your boyfriend in for a hug. He feels safe wrapped up in your arms, and you revel in the way he leans his weight against you.

“It is us, Kook,” you chuckle into his hair, “if we figured out as friends how to raise a whole kid, we can figure out what loving each other looks like.”

Jungkook sits up, a smile now stretched across his face. For a moment, the sunlight catches that small ring on his lip, causing you to giggle. He puts his hands around your face this time, “and I do love you, I’ll spend forever showing you that.”

Desperate to feel him, you lean forward until his lips catch yours.

“Me too.” You whisper.

With more clarity, life doesn’t stop the three of you from moving with the whirlwind of constant motion. Mai’s summer vacation starts on hopeful ground, but the matter between those kids and Mai is brought to an abrupt end when Mai’s friend confesses to everything. Within that first week of the summer month, the other kids follow until the situation is brought to full light. Mai was still reprimanded for hitting her friend, and with tutoring sessions once a week, Jungkook’s daughter was already blossoming into the wonderful little girl you both have raised.

He marveled at her when she expressed one day that she wanted to move on and start at a different school. “I’m not mad at my friend anymore, but I wanna make real friends,” Mai said, popping her head up from the coloring book in front of her while you and Jungkook cuddled underneath a blanket, watching a show you had quickly become addicted to. You rested your cheek against Jungkook’s chest, rubbing his stomach when you felt him sigh. A wide smile spread across his cheeks.

You settled for the kind of awkwardness that fell over the kitchen one night when Mai let ‘mom’ slip out when talking about you, soon after she was seeking a hiding place behind her dad, who stood still as stone. After coaxing Mai into your safe hold, the two of you determined that the endearment was to be determined. Mai settled the matter entirely with a reassuring hug that flooded your body with more love than you knew what to do with.

The three of you celebrated with a weekend getaway at the beach after your home business reached its first milestone. You and Jungkook chasing Mai and Bam, who officially graduated from puppy training school, around the sand. Bam barked after Mai whenever she swam too far from him as he watched her from the shore with you next to him, wanting his little, loyal companion to be by his side at all times.

In the last month of Mai’s summer vacation, you often found yourself observing the little girl in silence. Wondering what on earth life would’ve been like if she had never come to be. It didn’t matter how; it just mattered that she was here, born to a father who was once so terrified but now he walked this tightrope with his daughter safe in his arms. And a dog to boot.

There were several nights of tears following her experience of being bullied, some nights when she muttered words of a lost identity she would never know because of her absent mother, something far too complex for a young girl to comprehend. You were there for all of them, sitting there with her and Jungkook and taking in every ache Mai had to share. You assured both of them you would continue to be there for the years to come. It wasn’t easy, and there were times Jungkook had no clue what to say. But where words failed, he mended her wounds with long hugs, cuddling her to sleep with you hugging Mai on the other side of her bed.

Once she was safe in her dreams, you and Jungkook made it a point to be together. Learning the comforts of intimacy in other ways drew you closer to Jungkook. Talking about fears when they came up. Working to understand why one was feeling a certain way. Feeling your heart grow in size, the images of his past began to fade away until they no longer existed. Kissing Jungkook became yours again, being held by him - something only you knew with him.

Jungkook steeps in this feeling, as secure as he’d felt with you as his friend, he was starting to understand it while falling for you, it was growing stronger with each day. Watching you fight away those demons, not allowing them to hurt you anymore, he was realizing how prized he was in your eyes. You loved him in a way he never thought he deserved. And as much as he was eager to get to a place where he could share himself with you, he was learning this kind of love needed respect to feel how true it was.

It was still rocky, but there was a clear path forming, and the two of you made sure to remind each other when needed, that it would always be you and him.

Living this life begins to settle into place, it nestles into a part of you that leaves you sure about the decision you’d been mulling over since it was brought up.

“Really?” Jungkook’s face mirrored the childlike glee you saw so often in his daughter, excitement so simple. It made your insides burst when Jungkook lifted you into a hug, “You really want to move in?”

You just nod, lips bunched into the brightest smile that Jungkook knew he would remember forever.

You can’t help but recall that night as you fill your side of the closet Jungkook made for you, unpacking boxes one at a time. Your eyes widen for a moment when you look around you, feeling slightly suffocated by what was left. Jungkook was helping you before he had to start dinner for his parents who would be coming over.

“Baby?” He calls from the hallway.

“Yeah?” You shout, putting a blouse onto a hanger when you hear him enter the closet.

“You forgot a box-“ he says.

“Huh,” you arch an eyebrow, looking at all of your boxes, “no?“

You turn around to look at Jungkook, who’s standing straight like a pin, a dish towel draped over his shoulder. Mai comes in giggling, leaning herself against Jungkook’s legs and hugging him there.

You laugh, “I’ve got them all here…“ Your breath stills in your throat, forcing you to stop when your eyes drop to the small box in his hand.

The sound of your heartbeat pounds in your ears, everything begins to move slowly, “Kook- wh-what is that, what are you do-“

Jungkook lowers to one knee and opens the box to reveal a ring, breath shaking out of him when he starts to speak, “I love you,” a nervous giggle interrupts him, “baby, it’s you and me, it’s always going to be us - will you marry me?”

Mai can’t stop her giggles while yours hiccup out of you, nerves tingling in your fingers, causing you to drop the blouse in your hands, “are you serious?”

All he can do is nod, swallowed by his own nerves, while Mai can’t contain herself.

“Yes- what? Yes, Jungkook,” you start to cry, emotions pulled between disbelief and sheer ecstasy. Mai’s excitement explodes, jumping around the two of you when Jungkook stands and swallows you in a hug. She wraps her arms around your bodies, cheering into her dad’s side.

An unexplained peace rushes you when you pull Jungkook back to look at him. All you can see for that moment in time is the man you love, you see his tears and feel his arms around you. He mouths an ‘I love you,’ that has you doing the same, Mai’s joyous noises pressed into both of you while you share your quiet moment.

You and Jungkook breathe small laughs while setting the dining table when Mai answers the door for her grandparents, shouting, “She said yes she said yes!” Before greeting them properly. Jungkook’s arm wraps around your hip when he goes to kiss the side of your head, “think she’s more excited than us,” he teases.

After dinner, the five of you end the evening out in the backyard, your hand feeling sore from the way Mrs. Jeon and Mai take turns to gawk at your ring.

“Excited to start at your new school soon, bug?” Mr. Jeon gleamed at his granddaughter who sat on his lap. Mai jostles her head with an eager nod, “One more week!” She announces.

Jungkook rubs your shoulder, the three of you laughing. You nestle into his side, enjoying this feeling.

The night grows quieter with ease. Feeling Jungkook’s eyes on you has you nearly forgetting that his family is there too while they coddle Mai.

There is a shift inside of you when you look back at him. All of these months since having that conversation, focusing on Mai’s healing while figuring out the reigns to your relationship together, every measure of his commitment you’ve felt, it overwhelms you. It sits brighter than the ring on your finger, though catching glimpses of it still makes your heart stutter.

This feeling blooms inside of you, it brushes your skin in a tickling rush, causing you to sink further into Jungkook’s embrace.

“I love you,” you whisper to him.

He senses it, uncaring for those next few seconds as he kisses you. With a passing glance from Mrs. Jeon, she just smiles to herself, distracting Mai further.

What’s desired is expressed through fluttering blinks, left to wondering minds between you and Jungkook as you share the rest of the evening with his family. Subtle hints are given through passing touches or the way your fingers sneak beneath the collar of his t-shirt to touch the space below his neck.

“I’m really happy,” Mai tells you once in bed for the night, her small hands mushing your cheeks together.

��You make me happy, bean,” you snort into her skin, causing her to yelp.

“Night, my baby,” Jungkook bends down to kiss her, “sleep tight.”

“I won’t let the bedbugs bite,” Mai repeats their ever-famous tag line before whispering final good nights.

There’s only a breath of space between you and your true love when you shut the door to Mai’s bedroom.

“Hey.” You breathe, eyes drunk with love, and you can see his pupils dilate at the mere sound of your voice.

You chuckle, shaking your head because this man has you wrapped up in safety and love. It takes your breath away and all you want in that moment is to have him feel the same.

Every motion you and Jungkook make is done with utmost consideration for each other. Nerves bind with excitement. Sighs mingled with giggles. When he feels you move in haste, he reminds you there’s time. Allowing yourself to become lost in vulnerability beneath the captor of your heart. Your willing heart becomes exposed because you want more than anything to show every part of it to Jungkook.

He handles you carefully, both with his hands and in heart. Because he knows that most fragile part of you now sits inside his palms. A few times his breath stops when he peers down at you, your hair splayed over the pillows, sparkling eyes beaming up at him. He starts to feel what’s left of those insecurities wash away until they cease to exist.

All he can feel with each tender brush of skin and lasting kiss is pure and absolute love.

A sweet smile spreads across your face when a sleeping Jungkook falls into your sight, his mouth slightly agape. You move your hand up and push your fingers through his growing hair, rolling your eyes because who knows how your man’s hair will look next week.

You always wondered what this would be like. Being the first to wake up, still a little too early in the morning, but the first thing you’re drawn to is the person lying next to you, lightly snoring. How drunk you would feel off the sheer love shared with this person, but of course, the person in mind was always your best friend. Back then, it was a mere fantasy, one you were certain would never see the light of day but would stay buried only in the deepest part of your mind.

Now, nerves tingle through your body and you can feel the sheet laid over your bodies. It feels exciting and still, a little terrifying.

Jungkook begins to stir beneath your touch, groaning. You come to, only to be reduced to a puddle when he wraps his hand around your forearm to pull you close to him. His skin is warm from the mattress, and perhaps lasting traces are carried over from last night.

“So early,” he mutters, kissing your hand that is held in his.

You peer over at the clock on his side of the bed, haze immediately broken when you note the time, knowing Mai will be up soon. The first place she travels to is her dad’s room - your room- for a morning cuddle with the two of you. You hope she never grows out of it, and for a second, your heart aches at the thought of her turning 8 soon.

But today it’s different, and you’re horrified suddenly by the thought of your bare bodies shielded only by a thin sheet. Jungkook opens one eye when he feels you move the sheet off of you, ready to swing your legs off the bed when he stops you, gently holding you by the wrist and bringing you back to the warmth of his chest, “Where are you going?” He whines, his morning voice sits close to your ear.

You push him away despite every part of you craving to stay glued to the love of your life; “Kook, I should get up before Mai comes in here-“ you peel your wrist away from his strong but mindful grip, eliciting a more serious tone from him.

“Hey-“ he proves to be the stronger one, his careful approach bringing you back to him, looking at you with soft, tired eyes. He pulls your chin between his fingers, mouth hovering over yours- that smile, those eyes, he’s irresistible when you hear him whisper, “kiss me.”

And so you do, a few times before he finally looks at you again; “just relax-” his appeal is slow, conscious of you, “stay in bed.“

The part of you that’s scared wants to keep fighting it but the way he’s looking at you speaks volumes to the part that feels safe there. Now, a year ago, when Jungkook was telling you he was in love with you too, and learning what all of that meant in the time following, the sheer terror of intimacy with Jungkook. It ceased to exist right here. You wondered if you would ever make it here, the morning following a night like last night.

Would you wake up steeped in deep regret, despite sharing it with the person you’ve loved for far too long? Or would it be pure ecstasy, a heated blush still rushing through your body as you recall every action.

Jungkook is still holding you close, a glazed look in his eye as he keeps you inside the haven he’s created in his hands, just for you.

You can’t help but smile, knowing you were feeling the latter.

“Baby?” You finally speak, and it surprises him, making him jump. You laugh, cooing over him before apologizing with a kiss to his chest.

“Mhm?” He chuckles, fingers combing through your hair.

“This was perfect,” you draw small circles over his pec, noting the goosebumps that form over his skin from your languorous touch, “you’re perfect for me.”

He stops breathing for a second, and in the next your world is spinning when he moves you to lie on your back as he hovers over you. Your eyes are wide, which makes him giggle, his eyes falling with the sweetest expression on his face. You know he’s feeling blissful.

“You think so?” He queries with a smirk.

You simply nod, reaching up to caress the side of his neck and cheek.

All he can do is respond with a kiss- maybe three. By the time he’s done, you’re left in a giggling heap beneath him, begging him to stop his teasing touches as he runs his fingers up and down your sides.

A light knock at the bedroom door sends him flying off you and nearly off the bed.

Mai’s soft voice follows behind it, “Daddy?”

You rip the sheet away from Jungkook and drape it around yourself, leaving him with nothing but a belly laugh as he watches your panic; “I told you!” You scold him between clenched teeth. He can’t help but find your modesty endearing, watching you run to the bathroom while he finds clothes to put on.

“Morning, bean,” he greets his little girl at the door, picking her up and holding her in his arms for a moment. He loves how she smells in the morning, the scent of her shampoo from last night’s bath still in her hair, how she yawns into his shoulder before croaking a good morning back to him.

She asks for you, and he smiles, “showering,” he answers.

Mai gasps and sits up in her dad’s arms, mouth round as she says, “Let’s surprise her and make her waffles!”

Jungkook kisses Mai’s forehead, beside himself, before agreeing.

So, there are still things you have to get used to. You laugh at yourself while in the shower, lathering shampoo into your hair. A part of you doesn’t want to wash away what Jungkook impressed upon your skin. The way he muttered words of love against your stomach, or how his warm breath tickled your bare shoulder with his future vows to you.

His voice replays in your ear where he kissed you, “you and me.”

#jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader #jungkook fic #dad!jungkook #bts x reader #bts fluff #i can't wait...series by serendipitous seven

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