#Soap please give me a chance I can make it worth your while | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ppersonna · 3 years

Text

swipe right - jjk | m

“ i wanna ruin our friendship. we should be lovers instead. i don't know how to say this, cause you're really my dearest friend “ - jenny, studio killers

♡ summary- after a horrible breakup, you sign back up for tinder and ironically match with your best friend, jungkook. a date for fun is harmless, right?

♡ genre- best friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, jk is a minecraft streamer, brother namjoon, brother-in-law jimin, namjoon is kind of a himbo stay at home dad ngl, ex-boyfriend seokjin (mentioned but doesnt show up)

♡ word count- 9k

♡ warnings- mentions of a bad breakup (smh seokjin wtf??), penetrative sex, unprotected sex (u know the business folx), oral sex (m receiving), teasing, SO MUCH BODY WORSHIP, jk is a simp, slight dirty talk, lots of just talking during sex yall it happens, creampie, cum play, praise praise body worship praise, did i mention body worship, tit-fucking, cum eating, i think thats all.

♡ a/n - helloooo and thank you for your wait for this fic! i’m so happy its done and i loved writing it! it’s a little bit different feel for my usual style of writing (smut-wise) so please tell me your thoughts! i didn’t use dom/sub themes OR a daddy kink LMAOOOO praise me please. i hope you enjoy!! pls feel free to comment, chat, message, carrier pigeon, email, mail, WHATEVER U WANT, me. i love u babies. thank you to @kimtaehyunq for the sexy banner. and for @xjoonchildx @ladyartemesia @untaemedqueen for the writing support and idea generation. i would be nothing without my council. and thank you to my beta editors @hobi-gif and @ughseoks and @hongism for the perusal and help in writing this!

Jungkook is the person you call when your world falls apart.

He answers, voice raspy from the late hour, and the second he asks you what’s wrong, the downpour of torrential tears you’ve been holding back finally escapes and you’re sobbing through the phone that you just lost the love of your life—that he left and with little effort on his part, and a lot on yours.

Jungkook listens to you—his heart aching deep in his chest at hearing the utter heartbreak that’s clear in your voice. You’ve never been hurt like this, and he’s desperate to hold you, to make it go away. He wants to drive over to Seokjin’s house and throw a left hook into his stupid, handsome face for making you feel you weren’t worth it.

Because if there’s anything in the world that Jungkook knows, it’s that you’re worth it. You’re worth everything. Add up all the money and all the gold in the entire world, and it still doesn’t meet a fraction of what you’re worth to him.

“Where are you?” He asks as he cradles the phone against one arm and pulls on his jeans.

You sniffle. “Jungkook, it’s 3 am.”

“So? I was up playing Minecraft,” He lies. “Where are you?”

You can’t help but laugh the tiniest bit, a sliver of warmth wrapping itself around your raw and exposed heart. Like a balm to a flesh wound. It doesn’t heal it, not yet.

“I’m at our park.”

Jungkook smiles as he grips the phone back in his hand. The park. The place you and Jungkook spent your childhood playing make-believe games, and formative teenage years loitering around smoking clove cigarettes to look cool.

“Give me five minutes, okay?”

You nod, even though he can’t see you.

“Okay.”

Jungkook arrives with two minutes to spare. His beat up Nissan that he insists is “vintage” and “priceless” idles next to you.

He can see you through the darkened glass of your car—your mascara is running down your face, tears streaked through your flawlessly applied makeup.

You still look so beautiful.

And it angers Jungkook that all that time you spent looking good for Seokjin meant nothing to him.

He motions for you to come over, pats the passenger seat next to him and smiles as he watches you open the door and slide into the security of his familiar car.

“You cleaned your car,” you murmur as you notice a severe lack of McDonald’s trash.

He sniffs haughtily.

“The trash added character.”

Jungkook doesn’t give you a chance to respond. Instead, he’s unbuckling his seatbelt and pulling you as close to him as he can get you. The instant his arms wrap around your body, the floodgates open again and your once-quieted tears turn back into full-fledged sobs.

“I loved him,” you gasp through the pain in your throat.

He rubs your back, pats your hair gently, soothing you the way he has for years now. Through every breakup, through every family fight with your older brother Namjoon, through all the mean girls in high school. Jungkook is the north star—always consistent, always guiding you back to safety.

“I know, babe,” he sighs. “You deserve someone who’s going to treat you right, who’s not just going to give up when things get hard.”

You choke back a cry against his Patagonia hoodie and bury your face further into the crook of his neck. He smells like Old Spice and the shampoo he uses, along with the smell of laundry soap you buy for him—he uses dish soap when he runs out and nearly broke his washing machine last time.

“I thought he was the one. I’m so stupid.”

Jungkook swallows hard. Tonight is about comforting you, not about feeling sorry for himself that you’re his best friend and not his girlfriend. He can’t help but think of what kind of life he would give you. He knows it’s one that wouldn’t end with you crying in a parking lot at 3 AM.

“You’re not stupid, you just loved him. And there’s nothing stupid about loving someone, even if it doesn’t work out,” he sighs as he cradles your head against him. It feels right having you there, pressed up against him and seeking comfort from the solace of his arms.

“Let’s go get a milkshake, yeah?” He asks as you pull your head up and look at him with sad, glassy eyes.

“Yeah,” you nod after a moment of staring.

Jungkook’s eyes sparkle with love, with hope. It makes the desperate, alone feeling inside you—disappear. Jungkook presses a soft kiss to your forehead and then starts the shaky ignition of his car, that takes three cranks of the key before it turns over.

He sends you a look, a laugh evident on your face.

“Don’t even start,” he warns. “The engine is fine.”

“Whatever you say,” you snort as you wipe an errant tear from your face.

“It’s a certified classic car! I could get millions for this baby!”

As the weeks pass, the pain of losing Seokjin becomes further and further from your mind. You can get through the day without crying anytime you see something that reminds you of him and even start flirting with others without feeling like you’re cheating.

You just still haven’t reached the point where dating someone else even feels possible. You’re terrified of allowing someone close to you, letting them into a place where you’re inviting them to possibly hurt you. You’re not sure your heart is ready for it.

“I think you’re just scared,” your older brother Namjoon states as he warms up a bottle of milk in boiling water.

He cradles his new baby in one arm while the other works at the bottle of milk.

“I’m not scared,” you huff. “I just don’t think it’s the right time.”

Namjoon sighs and hands the gurgling newborn baby off to you and readies the bottle for you to feed your new niece, Jisoo.

“Look, Seokjin sucks, okay? I know you two were together for some time, but in the end, he wasn’t the right one for you. There’s someone out there who is the right one for you. You know how many shit frogs I had to kiss before I got my prince?”

You make a face as you feed Jisoo, who happily sucks and gazes at the lights above.

“You call Jimin a prince?”

Namjoon sighs dreamily as he watches the baby and thinks of his husband.

“The dreamiest prince,” he breathes, eyes closed in bliss. “But back to your problems. I think you should get back out there. Go on some dates, meet some people. No one is telling you to fall in love and get married tomorrow. Just go have some fun.”

You allow Namjoon’s words to mull through your mind. What could be the harm in joining a few dating sites, perhaps spending some time at the gym or grocery store flirting with someone cute?

“Fine,” you say. “I’ll think about it.”

“Good. I can’t be the only one giving our parents grand-babies. Soo needs a cousin.”

You smile down at the tiny bundle in your arms and imagine a future where you have a baby of your own.

“Okay, I’m not trying to get knocked up, Joon.”

“Whatever,” he sighs. “Help me choose a wall color for me and Jimin’s new master bathroom.”

Tinder’s changed since the last time you used it, years ago. It’s gone from any semblance of dating to strictly an app used to get laid.

It’s discouraging swiping through all the obvious fuckboys. Sure, a quick and easy lay sounds great, but you’re also trying to go out and enjoy real, traditional dates, and it seems none of these guys want to step foot outside of a bedroom.

The swiping left becomes almost monotonous. You’re sitting on your couch, watching some documentary about serial killers, when a startling profile pops up on your Tinder feed.

The picture that pops up is... Jungkook. You can’t stop the bubble of laughter that leaps from your chest. His profile is so authentically Jungkook that you’re swiping right before you even know it.

Your brain doesn’t even comprehend what a match with Jungkook means, really. You’re still laughing as you click on the bubble to message him and send him as many laugh emojis as you can.

“Hey guys, what’s up, Kookie here with another Let’s Play Minecraft video for ya. Be sure to like and subscribe if you enjoy this kind of content.”

Jungkook’s headset is firmly wrapped around his head, mic next to his mouth and hands at the ready on his mouse and keyboard. He’s set and in the zone.

The game is well into play when the familiar chime of his phone goes off. It’s a Tinder notification—he can tell by the sound. He can’t help but roll his eyes, wondering what sort of boring conversation he’s meant to have with a girl who will probably ghost him, anyway.

He lazily lifts his phone and glances at the notification, before dropping it back to the desk.

His hand freezes on his mouse as he finally comprehends what he just read.

He just matched with YOU.

His best friend.

His secret, lifelong crush.

He sputters something into the microphone and stops recording his game, wildly grasping for the phone and unlocking it.

YN: 😂😂😂😂 is your bio a Minecraft pickup line?!

He pauses, attempts to collect his thoughts, before desperately typing on his screen.

JUNGKOOK: Why? 😉😏 did it work?

You spend the rest of your night jokingly flirting with Jungkook, sending GIFs and emojis in between the silly lines you’re using on each other.

Right before you’re about to head to sleep, Jungkook sends one last message.

JUNGKOOK: What if we went on a date lolol. Haha jk. Unless?? 👀👀👀

Your thumbs hover over the keys to your phone.

A date with Jungkook? Even though you matched with him, you’ve never thought of a date with your childhood best friend.

YN: alright, it’s only fair since we matched 😝 show me how you treat these tinder ladies

“I have a date with Jungkook tonight,” you tell your brother, Namjoon, over the phone.

Over the crying of your newborn niece, you hear Namjoon splutter in confusion.

“You what!?” He nearly screams. “Jeon Jungkook? Like... the annoying kid you’ve been friends with since fourth grade?”

You huff.

“He’s not annoying! He’s my best friend. We ironically matched on Tinder and… Well, why the fuck not? Nothing serious is going to happen. We’ll go out and have a story to tell about how incompatible we are.”

Namjoon doesn’t reply. Instead, you hear him speak to his husband.

“She’s going on a date with Jungkook,” he says over the muffle of his hand on the receiver.

There’s a shuffle, and the dulcet voice of your brother-in-law, Jimin, comes over the line.

“Girl,” he starts. “What the fuck?”

You chuckle as you move about your closet, trying to decide what’s appropriate to wear on a date with your best friend.

“It’s nothing!”

“Mm-hmm,” Jimin tuts. “You know the boy is in love with you.”

“Okay, Chim, you’ve been spending too much time cooped up with my brother. It’s affecting your grip on reality.”

“Sure, honey. I just tell it like it is. Don’t break his heart.”

You roll your eyes.

“I won’t break his heart because there’s nothing there, Jimin.”

“I’ll be expecting your call later.”

“Yes, dad. Love you guys.”

“We love you too, sweetheart. But really, don’t break that poor boy’s heart.”

You open your mouth to retort yet another reassurance that there’s nothing to break, but the line goes dead.

“Fucking Jimin,” you mutter as you throw your phone to the bed.

You can’t allow yourself to think that Jungkook might have feelings for you. It’s totally out of the questions. He’s your best friend. The guy who shoves Cheetos up his nose to make you laugh and falls asleep during every movie night with his face in the popcorn bowl. He’s just Jungkook. This date is just a funny way to hang out.

So, why do you care so much about what you wear?

You’re still standing in front of your closet, attempting to find something respectable to wear. It doesn’t matter that the last time Jungkook saw you; it was with mascara streaming down your face and a hoodie from Namjoon’s college swimming days and ripped leggings. Jungkook has seen you in nearly everything you wear, so your indecisiveness gives you pause.

Do you want Jungkook to be attracted to you? Do you want to do your best to look as presentable as you would for a normal date?

The thudding of your heart tells you that maybe you’re more interested in this being a date than you’re allowing yourself to believe.

You shake all thoughts off.

No, you won’t allow yourself to overthink a night that should just be fun.

You settle for a fitted and simple summer dress, tights and heels. Simple, easy, respectable but also showing enough cleavage and sculpt of your ass to ensure you look more dressed up than not.

Perfect.

With one last look in the mirror, you’re ready.

JUNGKOOK: I’m outside!

ME: See you soon!

Jungkook taps his foot anxiously as he sits on the bench outside your apartment. His tight black jeans feel like a second skin on his legs, and the black button-down shirt he’s tucked in makes him rethink his choice of outfit.

Is he too casual?

He’s never really worn something like this around you. This is what Jungkook wears when he wants to seduce. This is what every girl he’s desperately wished was you got to see. The girls who swooned over his messy hair, the way his jeans display his toned thighs, the peek of skin at his throat.

Maybe it’s too much.

Maybe he’s afraid he’ll scare you away.

Maybe he’s afraid you won’t like it.

He’s given no chance to ruminate anymore because you’re exiting the building and walking straight towards him.

He doesn’t think he remembers how to breathe.

It’s as if you walk towards him in slow motion. Angels chorus around him and the setting sun sparkles on your face like a spotlight. There’s nothing in the world anymore, nothing but you.

You’re the most beautiful human he’s ever seen in his life.

“Hi,” you smile as you approach him.

He continues to stare, eyes traveling over the soft curves of your cheeks and jaw, trailing down to the way your dress clings just right to each dip of your body. His throat goes dry.

You are without a doubt the girl of his dreams.

“Jungkook?”

It pushes him out of his reverie, eyes widening as he realizes he’s been staring at you for maybe a few minutes too long to play off as normal.

“Hey!” He coughs, attempting to right himself.

“You okay?” You ask, eyebrow lifted in concern.

“Yeah! Yup! Totally! I’m okay—a-okay, absolutely great.” He internally slaps himself.

“You clean up nice,” you smile as your eyes elevate up and down the lean form of his body.

“Oh?” He asks, taken aback.

In his daze, he never even realized what you’re thinking about him, rather only how intensely he was thinking about you.

“This must be the Jungkook that all the girls in college couldn’t stop begging me to hook them up with.”

His cheeks flame with sudden embarrassment, hand moving to the back of his neck to rub it awkwardly.

“Ha, yeah,” he swallows. “You look r-really nice too. I don’t think I’ve seen you in a dress since your brother’s wedding.”

The smile that he’s rewarded with nearly knocks him on his ass. “Thanks! It’s fun to dress up cute again. Jin hated this dress.”

A stab of pain eeks its way into Jungkook’s heart. Seokjin. God, how he hates that man.

“Well, uh, you can wear whatever you want with me!” He assures.

You loop your arm around Jungkook’s, saddling up to his side as you look at him expectantly.

“Well, are we going?”

Jungkook can’t help but smile at the sparkle in your eye, the way you peer up at him with those soft, cherry lips. He wants to capture them with his own, kiss you until you don’t remember Seokjin’s name ever again.

But he resists.

“Let’s go!”

You never thought you’d admit it to yourself. You never even thought it could happen.

But the date is everything you’ve ever wanted, and more.

Jungkook is still Jungkook, still just as silly and easy to talk to as he always is.

But he’s also charming. Flirtatious, even. He holds doors open for you; he rests his hand on the small of your back as he guides you towards your table at dinner. He feeds you bites of his dessert and lets his eyes linger on the way your lips look wrapped around his fork.

Jungkook treats you the way you’ve always wanted to be treated. Like someone he wants to cherish for the rest of your combined lives. Someone he wants to take care of, build a future with, enjoy life with.

And as much as it thrills you, it absolutely frightens you.

It’s when you’re walking down the small river trail together that Jungkook slips his hand into yours and laces your fingers together. The once-steady beat of your heart becomes erratic. He continues chatting—as if holding your hand was a subconscious act for him. He’s knee deep in a story of his Minecraft server when you stop walking, causing him to pause.

“What’s up?” He asks curiously.

Your eyes glitter with anticipation, with fear, as you stare at the gorgeous man before you. He looks like a full course meal in his tight jeans and he makes you feel like a princess. You can suddenly see doing life by his side—no longer his platonic best friend, but as his lover and lifelong partner.

You say nothing. Instead, you simply close the space between you two by grabbing the buttons of his shirt and tugging his lips onto yours.

“Wha—oh, mmmmmm.”

Jungkook is still for a second as he battles the surprise, but jumps into action and cups your face with his hands, deepening the kiss by pushing his tongue past your lips and swirling it around your own.

Your bodies press close together. He can feel your breasts against his chest and he desperately wants to rip the dress off your body and worship you like he’s always wanted to.

As soon as the kiss started, it’s over. You’re pulling away with eyes wide with fear.

“I’m sorry, I—I need to go,” you stammer awkwardly.

Jungkook’s heart drops to his stomach.

“What? We were going to get ice cream?”

You can feel tears building in the corners of your eyes. You’re so confused, so unsure of what you’re feeling. You want to stay and kiss Jungkook until you’re clawing at the clothing on his body, pressing kisses to the firm column of his neck. You want to run far away, too scared to admit it to him you’re sure you could love him for the rest of his life.

You can’t lose that friendship. You can’t risk everything you love about Jungkook. He’ll only hurt you the way every boyfriend ever has.

“I don’t really feel well,” you swallow hard as you lie. Jungkook always knows when you’re lying.

His body stiffens.

“Okay, let me walk you home.”

You shake your head, already moving away from the man.

“It’s fine. We’re nearby. I’ll just run or something.”

He opens his mouth to protest, but you’ve already turned face and started running the direction away from him.

Jungkook watches, misty-eyed, as the girl of his dreams runs further and further away from him.

You’re sobbing as you finally reach home, out of breath and confused. The phone call to Namjoon is quick.

“Yo,” he says cooly as he answers the phone. His tone changes when he hears your whimpering sobs on the other end.

“Joonie,” you whisper. “I fucked up.”

“Oh god,” Namjoon quickly shuffles and calls his husband over, before putting the phone on speaker.

“What’s happened, baby?” Jimin’s sweet voice asks.

“I—I kissed him,” you sob, holding yourself close in the comfort of the elevator.

Namjoon and Jimin look at each other with knowing looks.

“We’re on our way over.”

Jimin knows the first order of business is to stop the crying. He places sleeping baby Jisoo in your arms, which quiets your whimpers enough as you cling to the tiny baby. He knows your weakness is sleeping babies.

Namjoon looks on anxiously, hates seeing his little sister upset and with no way to make it better.

Jimin’s been asked to take the lead on this, because he knows his husband's response is to cry as well—he gets emotional anytime he sees her cry. Namjoon agreed, knowing Jimin was better suited for the conversation.

“Tell us what happened,” Jimin asks quietly. You’re rocking the baby gently, sobs turned to sniffles. “Did something go wrong on the date?”

Your eyes peer up at your brother-in-law’s, a wounded look that makes Jimin feel sad. Namjoon clenches beside him, and Jimin lays a hand on his lap to soothe the protective brother.

“No,” you whisper. “That’s the thing. It was an amazing date.”

Jimin watches you curiously, but remains silent to let you continue.

“We had dinner, and we played arcade games and we walked around. And he was so… fuck, he was perfect. It was like dating the guy of my dreams.”

Jimin nods knowingly.

“And it surprised you how much you liked him.”

“Yeah,” you sniffle. “At the end, he was holding my hand and just talking about normal, stupid Jungkook shit, but this time it felt like more. Like, I felt in my heart that I wanted to be the one he always talked to about it. I wanted to be the one he came home to at night.”

Jimin pats your cheek lovingly, the care for his sister-in-law clear in his gaze.

“You don’t just like him, honey. I think you might even love him.”

You pull baby Jisoo tighter into your grasp and nod, pathetic tears slipping down your face.

“I just left him. Like, I ran away from him like an asshole.”

Namjoon grunts and takes a spot next to Jimin. “If he loves you, which I’m sure he does, he’ll still be waiting for you.”

Jimin nods and rests a hand on his husband's back. “But you better have one hell of an apology.”

Jungkook doesn’t answer your phone calls. He doesn’t respond to your texts, snapchats or Instagram DM’s. He doesn’t even look at the TikToks you sent him! It’s becoming infuriating to get in touch with him.

You take matters into your own hands and storm to his apartment after work, the rising tension in your shoulders and stomach full of rocks an indicator of your anxiety about the future of this relationship.

Jungkook opens the door wearing nothing but a pair of grey sweats. All the carefully crafted words exit your mind at light

speed and you’re left gasping, wide-eyed at the chiseled body of your best friend.

“Can I help you?” He asks, tone flat.

Ouch.

You push past him into the apartment you know so well. “Yeah, you could start by answering your phone.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes and closes the door, then heads back towards the large gaming setup in the living room.

“My apologies for not responding to the girl who literally ran away from me on a date.”

Your cheeks heat uncomfortably as you stand in the center of his living room, arms crossed over your chest.

“Jungkook, listen. I’m—”

“Please,” he shakes his head as he sits down at the impressive gaming chair. “Save the apologies. I get it.”

“You don’t get it!” You say, exasperated. “You don’t get any of it! That’s why I’m here.”

Jungkook narrows a look at you then stands from his chair. Slowly, he makes his way towards you and stands inches from your face. The proximity of his bare, toned chest to your body makes your throat dry.

“No, you don’t get it.” His voice is threateningly quiet, completely different from his usual chipper tone.

“Jungkook, I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” He quirks his head sarcastically, and you’re struck by the sharp lines of his jaw. “Sorry for running away from the date? Sorry for going on a date? Sorry for making me feel like I had a fucking chance when you kissed me?”

You swallow hard and open your mouth to reply, but he cuts you off.

“I’m sorry too. For giving myself way too much hope that this could ever be something. I’m sorry for myself for thinking you’d at least respect me enough to reject me politely.”

“You always had a chance!” You can feel tears building in your eyes and Jungkook feels his heart pound in his chest like a drum.

He scoffs, a harsh and mirthless laugh. “Clearly not.”

“I just—,” you start. “I never saw you like that before and suddenly you became everything I’ve ever dreamed of. It was like getting hit by a train, Kook! Suddenly my best friend turned into the man of my dreams.”

He shakes his head, stepping back away from you.

“I really find it hard to believe you,” he whispers. “I can’t let myself hope.”

“Jungkook, please,” you beg as tears start slipping down your face. “Please believe me.”

“Just leave,” he sighs. “I hate making you cry.”

You want so badly to wrap yourself in his arms, cry into his chest like you always do when you’re hurt. But you stand still, frozen in your shame and embarrassment of hurting your best friend so badly.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, before you spin around as quickly as you can and leave Jungkook’s apartment in a flurry.

He watches as the door slams behind you, eyes full of sadness and regret. As much as he wants to believe you, have faith in every word you said, he can’t allow himself to get his hopes up again.

He can’t watch you run away from him again.

“Welcome back to Kookie’s Wild Weekly Walkthrough!” Jungkook cheers as enthusiastically as he can through his microphone. “The weekly segment where I react to your Minecraft worlds!”

Jungkook needed to dive back into streaming to take his mind off of you. He hasn’t left his apartment in days, only subsisting on takeout and coffee. At least he was making more money and his subscribers didn’t seem to mind the up-tick in content.

“Tonight I’ll be walking through a creation sent by,” he squints at the username. “‘Kookiesgal95’ Aww that’s cute.”

He readies the content and starts his camera as he watches the YouTube link. His subscribers love his reaction videos—it’s a highly requested segment.

The video starts off easily, a generic Minecraft world that looks like a park.

“Hi Kook.”

The voice that reverberates through his headphones makes him pause the video quickly, wide-eyed with recognition.

It’s you. He’d know that voice from a million others.

Shit. He’s going to have to edit so much of this clip. He’s staring at the screen as if he’s just seen a ghost.

Unsteadily, he clicks play again and watches as you lead him through your Minecraft creation.

“I wanted to recreate something for someone very special in my life.”

Jungkook doesn’t even bother to react to this anymore. This entire video is going to be worthless—there’s nothing he can say.

The video pans around the Minecraft setup and he can see what looks like handmade swings and merry go rounds.

“It took me a really long time to do this and an embarrassing amount of help from some twelve-year-olds on the internet.”

He laughs and is stunned by the wet tears rolling down his cheeks. He hadn’t realized he was crying.

“I re-created a park that is really special to my best friend and I.”

He feels his chest tighten and relax. The park.

“This is the spot where he held me when my dog died when I was nine. I still miss that dog.”

The view is on a spot next to a blocky oak tree. Jungkook remembers that day, remembers your heartbroken sobs as he whispered words of comfort to you. He misses that dog, too.

“This is where he and my brother got in a fight when we were eleven, because my brother called me a stupid-head. My best friend has always been protective of me, even from my own big brother.”

He can still remember pushing Namjoon around after hearing him call you names. He pushed Namjoon over and threatened to use his “big muscles” if he did it again.

The camera pans to an enormous structure, rather sloppily made, of a slide and monkey bars.

“This is where we first shared a joint in high school. I coughed a lung up and he ran down the street to a gas station at ten pm to get me a bottle of water even though I told him I was okay,”

The memory of the bewildered 7-11 employee plays through his mind. The man watched as a very stoned, very out of breath, Jungkook paid for a bottle of water in coins.

The video continues playing, moves towards what appears to be a parking lot made of cobblestone blocks.

“This is where he held me when my world fell apart.”

The break-up. The way you cried and cried and cried in his arms and he held you as if you were the only thing left on Earth.

“This is where he reminded me I’m worthy of love, that I’m not broken. This is where he held me like I was delicate, but treated me like I was unbreakable.”

His tears don’t stop. Jungkook feels his heart thundering in his chest like a summer storm.

He can hear your sniffles through the recording of the video—you were crying too. It pans around to the swing set.

“And this is where I’ll tell him everything, tonight. Where I’ll tell him how deeply I love him and how I want to make him the happiest guy in the world. In all of Minecraft and beyond. I hope he comes.”

Jungkook doesn’t even bother turning his camera off.

Instead, he’s running to change out of his three-day-old clothes and bolt out the door.

The creaky, rusty metal of the swing set is deafeningly loud in the silence of your park.

It’s dark, just a few street lights around to illuminate the perimeter, but it’s otherwise only lit by the moon.

It’s getting cold. You shiver in your hoodie and kick at the dirt under your swing.

Maybe he didn’t see the video. Maybe he wasn’t going to show.

Maybe it was too late.

You spent hours working on the Minecraft world, staying up at all hours of the night to build and craft a poor re-creation of this park. The twelve-year-olds on Reddit had been invaluable and Namjoon definitely made fun of you for your creative assistants. But it had all been worth it.

“Fuck,” you speak out loud to no one, as you try to warm your hands in the pockets of your sweater. “It’s cold.”

“You should have brought a jacket.”

The sudden voice from behind startles you. You hop off the swing and whip around to face down the intruder.

Jungkook.

He looks so good. He’s wearing a thick coat and tight jeans. Your eyes take a delicious journey from head to toe.

He can’t help but preen at your blatant appreciation. He enjoys knowing you’re attracted to him, at least physically.

“You came.”

He nods and takes a nervous step towards you. He’s still far away, more than an arm's-reach away. You’re desperate to bring him closer, to pull him tight against your body and wrap yourself around him. You never want to be without his gentle touch again.

“I felt pretty compelled to come after you made all this in Minecraft for me.” He cracks a wry smile, a boy-ish grin that makes your heart flutter.

“It took me twenty-five hours and some teenagers to help.”

He laughs, a beautiful sound that warms you. “I’m sure they were ecstatic to help.”

You chew at the inside of your cheek, nervous at what he thinks about your in-game confession.

“Did you mean it?” He asks. He steps closer—one more step.

“Every word.”

His eyes are searching yours for the truth, desperately diving into the depths for validity.

“Why did you run away?” Another step.

You swallow hard, heavy tears brimming in your eyes.

“You went from being the silly best friend to being the person I could spend the rest of my life with. It all hit me. It’s always been you.”

One more step and now he’s just within your reach. If you stuck your hand out, your fingers would graze the soft puff of his coat, the delicate skin of his neck.

“I’ve always felt that way about you. I never thought you’d feel the same.”

You smile softly, timidly. “It just took me a little while longer to realize it.”

All at once, Jungkook closes the gap and holds you gently by your cheeks. His thumbs wipe at the moisture under your eyes.

“I promise to never make you cry again,” he whispers reverently.

“And I promise to never run away from you again.”

Jungkook smiles at that, cradling your face like you’re the most expensive and precious jewel.

“Can I kiss you again?” He asks, somewhat unsure of himself.

“I would like it if you would.”

As Jungkook presses his cold, plush lips to your own, you make a promise to yourself to never go a day without kissing him again.

“I can’t believe you’re in my bedroom,” Jungkook murmurs as he kisses at your face. After the park, Jungkook loaded you into his priceless Nissan and scurried home. You could hardly keep your hands off him as he drove you back to his place—reaching and caressing the spots on his body you’re dying to become familiar with.

“I’ve been in your bedroom before,” you remind him as he tugs up the hoodie you’re wearing.

“God, don’t be so semantic when I’m trying to fuck you,” he says before throwing the hoodie to a corner of the room. “You know what I mean.”

Jungkook kisses you again, all lips and teeth and tongue. He kisses you like you’re the last breath of air, and he’s greedy for every bit. He grips your hips, not too tight, and brings your body against his. You can feel him grow in hardness in his too tight, and it feels like bliss.

Teasingly, you grind your hips against his, making him shudder with desire.

“I want you,” he whines as he nibbles at your lip.

“Really? I couldn’t tell.”

He opens his eyes to level a look at you, pulling his mouth away from yours.

“You’re such a little smartass.”

His hands become feverish on your jeans, tugging apart the button and flicking down the fly. He pushes them down quickly, and you kick them off carelessly.

He can’t stop looking at you in your bra and panties, standing at the foot of his bed.

“Holy shit, okay, this is happening, right? Like, this is real?”

You smirk, pleased with Jungkook’s obvious excitement.

“Let me prove it’s not just a dream.”

Softly, you spin Jungkook around and push him down to sit on his bed. He complies easily, eyes wide and excited.

“If this is a dream, would you be able to feel this?” You ask as you unbuckle his belt and open his jeans. He doesn’t reply, simply watches you as you tug his jeans down to his thighs.

His cock strains hard against his tight boxers, and you run a teasing finger over the obvious bulge.

“Oh fuck,” he breathes.

“Feels pretty real, huh?”

“Y-yeah.”

Your delicate hands gently tug at the waistband of his boxers and easily work them down enough to free the length of his cock. It springs out easily and your eyes widen at the impressive size. You assumed he would be at least average, but you’re looking at something definitely more.

“Oh wow,” you whisper. “You’re fucking huge.”

Jungkook grins. “All for you, baby.” The cockiness is palpable.

One solid grip around him wipes the presumptuous smile off his face, replaced with a gasping, shuddering moan.

“How about this? Not a dream?”

He struggles to find his voice, instead he’s gulping for air like a fish out of water.

“That’s what I thought,” you whisper before settling into a position on your knees. “I’ll admit, I’ve dreamt about this too. I always felt so ashamed for dreaming about sucking my best friend's cock.”

You press soft kisses to the head of his length, teasing the sensitive areas at the tip before kissing up and down the length.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

His evident desire for you encourages you, and your tongue swipes at the crown of his tip and swirls around it gently.

“Oh my god.” His eyes shutter closed and you trace the veins in his dick with your tongue.

“This h-has to be a dreeeaaaaam,” he whines as you make an exceptionally long stripe with the flat of your tongue.

You pull off for a moment, humming. He springs his eyes open and watches as you reach behind your back and unsnap your bra. Your breasts escape with a bounce and his eyes widen, nearly bulging out of their sockets.

“What the fuck,” he whines. “You have the most amazing tits.”

He reaches out to grasp them and you slap them away playfully.

“Not yet,” you smirk. “Still trying to convince you you’re not asleep.”

He sucks in his breath and puts his hands back to the bed to steady himself, eyes never leaving yours (except to stare at the luscious curves of your body).

Grasping your breasts in both hands, you smash them together lightly in an elaborate show of what Jungkook wants most. You lean over his body and place the throbbing thickness of his cock in between your tits, allowing him to feel just how soft and warm they are.

“Shit!” He yelps, grabbing his sheets in a tight fist. “Are you really tit-fucking me right now?!”

Slowly, you lift your body up and down, allowing his cock to feel each stroke of your breasts. You nod at his question and continue to pump up and down.

“Still dreaming?”

He whines and shakes his head, already feeling so close to the edge. His cock is slick from your teasing licks and the pressure of your tits surrounding him had his mind spinning with desire.

“Ahhh, I’m so fucking close,” he warns.

You continue, speeding up the friction and pressure of your strokes.

“I want you to cum on me, Kook,” you whisper encouragingly. “Cum on my tits, please?”

Jungkook feels like he’s a wire about to snap, and your thick, sultry voice and incredibly perfect breasts are the snips that breaks him apart.

“Oh, shit,” he grunts. “Gonna paint your titties white, baby.”

His moans echo around the walls of his bedroom, small gasps of pleasure and your name escaping his perfectly plump pout.

His hot load splatters on your chest, and you stroke him through each pulse of his cock. You’re slippery with his seed now, and when you pull away from his spent length, you make a show of rubbing in his cum over your chest.

“Okay, definitely not dreaming,” he says in a daze as he watches you lift a wet finger to your mouth, popping it in to clean it off. “Who knew you were so fucking kinky?”

His confidence grows as he catches his breath. He can’t believe he’s sitting on his bed with you on your knees, breasts covered in his load. You’re suckling the cum off your finger like it’s his cock, and he’s desperate for more.

“There are lots of things you don’t know about me,” you shrug.

Swiftly, he grabs you gently by your bicep and pulls you close, sucking at your lips until you’re both standing.

“I plan to find out everything.”

Suddenly, you’re switching positions and Jungkook is pushing you down into the bed. You lay flat in the center, body relaxed and eager for your best friend.

“What are you doing?” You ask. He’s still standing at the end of the bed, watching you get comfortable. Once he’s satisfied that you’re lying exactly how you want, he settles himself by your feet.

“Worshipping you,” he says as he lifts an ankle and presses gentle kisses to your calf. “Showing you how much I adore you.” More kisses, soft and sweet. “Showing you how I plan on treating you for the rest of your life.”

He takes his time, lavishing your legs with his mouth. He kisses and sucks at any spot, sexual or not. He mouths at the roundness of your knees, your firm hamstrings. He presses his love into the skin of your thighs, mouthing his praises with each kiss.

He reaches the dip of your hips and he gently kisses your exposed skin as he tugs your cotton panties off you.

“I have loved every inch of you since before I can remember,” he praises as his lips skim over the mound of your cunt. “And I don’t plan on stopping soon.”

Your body feels like it’s on fire, as if Jungkook lights a match at every spot his lips press against. Your eyes close, and you allow Jungkook to continue his pious worship of your body.

He teases around your folds, kissing your labia ever so gently—making you gasp. He doesn’t linger long, only kisses you enough to stir the licking flames of heat in your belly.

He kisses at your stomach, gently nibbling and laving at the softness there. You try to hide from him, try to hide your insecurities of your body in his thorough exploration, but he moves your hands.

“I know you don’t like this part of your body,” he murmurs. His voice is so soft, so pure and sincere. “But I do. I love everything about you.”

His tongue swirls around your belly button, making you gasp at the ticklish sensation.

“You’re so pretty. So perfect.”

He continues upwards, lips now trailing to your full breasts. He takes his time there, licking and kissing and flicking at your nipples with his tongue. It feels exhilarating—Jungkook’s mouth feels like everything you want it to feel like. His tongue is warm, and he bites with just enough pressure to make your back arch off the bed into his embrace.

His hands explore, taking stock of every millimeter of skin he can find. He wants to memorize every freckle, every bump, every scar and line. Your body is his paradise, and all he can think of is you, you, you.

One hand travels down your body as he moves his lips up your neck. It snakes down your stomach and deftly slides over your soaked core. You whine as you feel his fingers part your folds and dip into the wetness.

“So wet,” he says out loud, verbalizing every tantalizing detail of your body. “So perfect.”

His lips are finally at your own and you kiss him passionately, tongue swirling around his as he slides his two fingers past your clit and into your drenched hole. You gasp against his mouth, eyes widening as he slowly scissors his fingers into you and pumps slowly. It’s almost teasing, the way he fucks his fingers in you. Slow, firm movements with his powerful hands.

“Jungkook!” You gasp. He doesn’t reply, instead he bites at your lip and tugs, then trails his hot mouth back down to your nipples. He can’t get enough of your breasts and the slightly salty taste of him still lingering.

“You feel so good,” he says as he speeds his fingers up minutely. “So tight and wet for me.”

Your hips writhe in need. He’s giving you what you need, but not enough. You need more, more. You want to feel him, all of him, spearing you open.

“Please, Kook,” you groan. “I need you.”

He laughs softly against your nipple and sucks extra hard, letting it pop out of his mouth audibly.

“And I need you, my love.”

“Fuck me, please.” You’re desperate, thighs quaking from the slow teasing. “I want you to fuck me, Jungkook.”

Chills shudder down Jungkook’s spine and he’s powerless to say no, not when you demand it so well.

“With pleasure,” he agrees. He pulls his fingers from within you and copies your move, sliding them into his mouth to suck your essence off.

He’s never looked sexier. His eyes are dark chocolate pools of burning intensity, and you feel your breath become shaky as you watch him clean his fingers with precision.

After he’s deemed his fingers sufficiently clean, he settles himself between your legs. Easily, he lifts your hips and shoves a pillow underneath, elevating you to a more comfortable position. He grabs your legs and tosses each over his shoulders so they’re higher in the air.

“I’m going to fuck you so good, baby,” he promises as he rubs the tip of his cock on your soppy slit. “Condom?”

You shake your head, appreciative of his question but desperate to feel him completely.

“Birth control. Regularly tested. Haven’t had sex in a while,” you blurt out. “You good?”

He nods in agreement. “Same. Well, except the birth control. But, I’d take it if they made it for men.”

“Jungkook!” You whine. Your best friend is so easily sidetracked. “Please, can you fuck me?”

He grins. “Tsk, someone is impatient.”

A low moan is rumbling in your chest as he continues to rub his thick cock at your entrance.

“I swear to god, you’re the biggest tease.”

“Oh, I’m definitely the biggest.”

Before you can react, he’s pushing past your entrance and sliding deep in your walls. Your position makes his cock feel deep, and he bottoms out and stills there, eyes closed in bliss.

“Holy shit,” he gasps. “This is absolutely the best pussy I’ve ever felt.”

You wiggle your hips as you get used to the sensation of the delicious stretch.

“Please don’t tell me how many pussies you’ve felt when you’re balls deep inside of me.”

Jungkook turns his head and kisses at your legs resting on his shoulders, lavishing them with his praise once more as he keeps his cock buried inside your tight heat.

“Yours is the only one that matters. The only pussy I’ll ever be in for the rest of my life.”

“That’s a good answer,” you smile. “Now, fuck me, lover boy.”

Jungkook winks and grips your hips with his hands. He swiftly pulls out, enamored with the way his cock is already covered in your creamy essence, then eagerly pushes back in. He sets a pace and soon the sound of skin clapping on skin echoes around the room.

“Oh god!” You’re moaning loudly, unabashedly. You’re thankful that Jungkook’s old roommate, Yoongi, moved out to live with his boyfriend Hoseok months ago. He’d definitely complain about the noise for months. “Fuck, Jungkook, you feel so good.”

Jungkook fucks into you with ferocity, speed and power gradually rising as he feels his core tighten with the coming anticipation of release.

“Mmm, you look so fucking sexy like this,” he murmurs. “Getting fucked by your best friend’s fat cock.”

He moves a hand from your hip, trails it up your body to squeeze at your breast, before he’s cupping your face once again. His hips snap against yours and he loves the way your mouth utters little squeaks and gasps with each deep thrust into you.

“God, my beautiful girl,” he groans. “Can’t wait to cum in this pussy, shit, you got me so fucking close.”

You open your mouth desperately and Jungkook easily slips his thumb in. You latch on quickly and suck, tongue swirling around the tip like you’re sucking another cock. It nearly sends him over the edge and the speed of his hips matches his desperate need for more.

“Fucking hell,” he bites back. He can feel his belly tighten, driven further and further to the edge by the constricting wetness of your cunt.

He pulls his thumb out and moves it down to where his cock spears into you, allowing your spit to swirl with his thumb around your clit. Your core tightens around him at the added stimulation and your back arches up in ecstasy.

“I’m so c-close, Kook,” you plead, as if begging for mercy. “Please, I want to cum so bad.”

The speed of his thumb increases, and he watches as your face twists in pleasure and desperation.

“Cum on my cock, baby, let me see you fall apart. Show me what I’ve dreamt of for so long.”

A high and wanton cry ripples out of your body as he savagely increases his speed, both his cock and thumb working overtime to drive you towards your end. The butterflies that erupt in your lower stomach make your moans louder, higher. You’re so close, closer than ever. It’s building to an incredible crescendo.

He can tell you’re close—he sees it on your face as your back arches and your fists grip his sheets.

“You look like a fucking angel, baby,” he whines as he soaks in the vision of you writhing underneath him. “I bet you cum like an angel, too. Let me see it, let me see.”

With just a few more swirls of his thumb and his deep, hard strokes, you’re soaring over the edge into a pool of nothingness. Your cunt pulsates wildly around his length, milking and stroking it with your tight walls. You throw your head back, moaning out his name at the top of his lungs, letting his neighbors know just who fucks you so well.

“Holy shit,” he gasps, hips stuttering as he fucks into your juicy hole. “That was so fucking sexy.”

You grip his forearms, holding onto him tight and encourage him to go harder. “Cum inside me, Kookie, please. I’m all yours, make me yours.”

His heart feels like it might burst in his chest. He’s always wanted you to say it to him, to hand over your love to him like he does so easily to you. It’s all so much, so overwhelming, and the feeling of your hot cunt still fluttering around him sends him reeling into his own completion.

He spills into you, warm seed coating your walls and pooling inside your womb. He fucks himself through each throb of his cock until he’s sure he’s drained every ounce of himself into you.

Your legs slip off his shoulders easily, and he gently pulls himself out of you. He falls beside you, panting with exertion, and wraps an arm around you.

After a few silent moments of catching your breath, Jungkook pulls you in close to him until he can koala-cling to you, arms and legs both wrapped around your body.

“Mine,” he whispers as he kisses your head. “All mine.”

You return the favor, clinging to your best friend—boyfriend—like he’s your only lifeline.

“All yours.”

“So, you’re telling me, you got together because of Minecraft?” Jimin asks, pointing a fork in your direction. It’s been months now since your grand virtual declaration of love for Jungkook. Months of bliss and romance, laughter and companionship.

You were right all along. Jungkook is everything you’ve wanted in a man and more.

You’re sitting at your brother’s expensive dinner table, enjoying a meal with his family with your boyfriend at your side.

“Yeah, Jimin, I guess that’s what I’m saying,” you retort as you roll your eyes. “Minecraft and Tinder.”

Baby Jisoo is awake and in your brother’s arms, but she’s whining and wiggling to leave him.

“What’s wrong, Soo?” Namjoon asks with a pout on his lips. “Why don’t you want daddy anymore?”

Jimin snorts at his husband and you hold out your arms for your baby niece. “Come here, baby, I know you want auntie.”

Namjoon dutifully hands over his daughter, sulking that he’s been picked over for his sister.

You cradle the baby in your arms, expecting her to calm once she’s there, but she continues to fuss. She’s thrusting her arms out and nearly crying, reaching towards Jungkook who’s busy chowing down on Jimin’s homemade ramen.

“I think she wants you, Kook,” you murmur. He looks at you, then to the baby, then back to you, before he wipes his hands and face clean with a napkin.

“Oh, okay,” he whispers, slowly taking the baby from your arms with your help. “Hello, ma’am.”

Namjoon and Jimin laugh. “She’s a baby, Jungkook, not an elderly woman,” your brother teases.

Jungkook doesn’t listen. He’s too busy cooing at the baby in his arms and playing with her tiny hands. Namjoon turns his attention away and looks at you.

“Guess I won’t be the only provider of grandchildren for much longer.”

You playfully glare at him and turn away to watch your boyfriend. Watching Jungkook interact with your niece makes your heart swell, your soul sing. He’d be a perfect father.

“I swear, if he teaches her how to play Minecraft, he’s banned from the household,” Jimin grumbles. “This is a No-Nerd-Zone.”

Jungkook cradles the child and rocks back and forth, singing her a soft, made-up song, before he looks over at you.

“Hey, I want one of these,” he smiles. “Can we have one?”

You lay a hand on your stomach, a soft bump not quite visible yet. It’s only been one test, the lines faintly indicating ‘positive’ on the stick. You wanted to make sure, get confirmation before you spill the beans.

“Sure, Kookie.”

He grins and leans over to kiss you, before turning his attention back to the baby. “Okay, Jisoo, now let me tell you all about the Endermen.”

Jimin groans. “Oh my god, do not give Minecraft facts to my infant!”

tag list - @giadalin @nohayarcoirissintormenta @pjmislovely @xhazmania @marcoazam2 @eggbutnotyolk @feel-the-sunset @unicornbabylover @aretha170 @jeonmisha @hordanhearsawhooo

#bts smut #jungkook smut #bts fic #jeon jungkook smut #jungkook #ficswithluv #jjk smut #bts fics #jjk fic #jungkook fic

6K notes · View notes

likeastarstar · 3 years

Text

Birthday Boy

summary: WARNING! smut ahead. It's Namu's birthday and you're in love with him and his body and how it looks in the shower.

masterlist.

Your boyfriend was a menace.

Seriously, who wakes up at the ass crack of dawn to workout on their birthday of all days? Wasn't anything sacred? Surely his birthday, the day that should be considered an international holiday, was a good enough excuse for a cheat day.

But no, Joon had left you so early you were only just waking up as he returned back the apartment you shared after exercising. You laid in bed, half asleep, watching as your boyfriend immediately shoved his socks off, the sleeveless compression shirt he had on following quickly after. He couldn't even be bothered to wait until he was in the bathroom to strip down, pushing his gym shorts off his hips along with his underwear already balled up in his fists by the time he was halfway across the bedroom.

He took note of your laying form but because of the massive amounts of pillows you insisted on having, he couldn't tell you were awake and currently ogling his extremely perfect, extremely buff, super sexy, oh wow he is gorgeous, body. Maybe him going to the gym was a blessing, maybe you should be more grateful. You were certainly grateful when he turned towards the bathroom and you got to stare at his ass.

Namjoon had the most perfect body in the world, broad, rolling shoulders, his thick neck perfect for biting down on, his soft pecs that you liked to lay on despite the aforementioned mountain of pillows on your bed, the chiseled abs rubbing down the length of his torso and disappearing with two lines dragging directly into the neatly trimmed dark hair of his lap.

His thick thighs you insisted on sitting on far too often, his thighs that you had a habit of rubbing absentmindedly underneath restaurant tables when you went out until he forced you to stop- citing the risk of him popping a semi before dessert. You loved his back, muscular and strong, his arms as equally as pleasing when they were wrapped around you. You had recently become somewhat of a masseuse, gleefully running to get the massage oil when Namjoon came home sore from the gym.

It was the little things.

He was perfect- an adonis among men and that's before you even got to who he was as a person- which was also, shockingly perfect. The kindest, most wise person you had ever known. You loved his big brain as much as his big body and it was your favorite person's birthday today.

His birthday!

You sat up with an excited squeal, running to follow Namjoon as you heard the shower start. He was already in the shower by the time you had stripped off your pajamas, back facing you as he washed the sweat off of himself. You stepped into the steaming shower quickly, wrapping your arms around his waist and hugging him from behind.

"Happy birthday," You smiled, kissing his back where your face was pressed against it. His hands covered yours and squeezed in response before turning around in your arms so that he was facing you with his own shy smile, dimples on full display.

"Thank you, good morning." He said softly, leaning down to kiss you. "I didn't mean to wake you up."

You shook you head and reached for the environmentally friendly sea sponge covered in soap in his hand, squeezing it against his chest and watching the suds drip down his skin before rubbing the sponge on him thoroughly, "I had to get up anyway, it's a big day, lots to do."

"You always take my birthday too seriously," He laughed, squeezing a puddle of the shampoo he liked the smell of on top of your head and massaging it into your scalp.

"I observe the auspicious day the way it's meant to be honored, yes." You noted formally, nodding your head solemnly under his hands.

He laughed and rinsed your hair, rubbing conditioner in the ends before wrapping the length of your hair around his hands and pulling, causing your neck to crane up towards his face. He looked down at you with a devious look on his face, the steam in the shower surrounding the pair of you like a cloud.

"It's my dick's birthday too, you know." He joked, smirking slightly.

You raised your eyebrows and flickered a glance towards where his legs met, noting that he was already beginning to get hard, "I did know that."

"And you should celebrate it too, do something special." He mused, raising his eyebrows in a sort of a dare.

"Oh? Like what?" You challenged, standing on your toes to kiss him. He kissed you possessively, roughly, with his hand still wrapped around your hair so you couldn't really move much.

Namjoon slid his tongue against yours and you let your hands glide down his wet torso, wrapping your fingers around his cock and stroking it slowly. You matched the pace of his tongue against yours, body rolling against his rhythmically. There was barely an inch of space between you and even that was too much.

Namjoon let go of your hair in favor for wrapping his grasp around your neck, guiding you to the glass wall and spinning you around so quickly you let out a gasp of surprise. He reached a hand back and angled the shower head so that it was hitting the top of your back and rolling down, the pressure sending tingles down your spine.

Namjoon's body came up behind yours, pushing his front into your ass and kissing your neck, "You're gonna give me what I want for my birthday, right? I can ask for anything and you'd do it for me, because it's my birthday and you love me?"

"Right, yeah- anything," You breathed out, a moan sitting on the tip of your tongue.

"Good," He grunted, "Now look at yourself."

Your eyes snapped to the mirror on the other side of the bathroom in front of the sink, the reflection of you and Namjoon in the shower staring back at you. The glass had fogged up and the only thing really visible was your tits pressed up against the glass, the palm of Namjoon's hand flattened on the surface of the glass pane above you, caging you in. You moaned at the sight- wondering what you looked like from the back, bent over like a slut.

"I love my birthday," Namjoon laughed, "You get so horny- which is saying something because you're always a slut for your boyfriend. You like making me happy?"

"I like- I like being slutty for you," You moaned, "I like being yours."

"I like being yours too, baby." He grinned, pecking you on the cheek sweetly before kissing down the length of your back. He bit down on your ass cheek like it was an apple, making you moan out embarrassingly.

"Fuck- Joon, it's your birthday, shouldn't I be the one on my knees?" You pointed out, looking down at him from behind your shoulder. He didn't even look up at you, staring instead straight at your pussy, spreading your legs apart gently and watching the water drip down between them.

"No, it's my birthday- I'll eat you out if I want to," He demanded petulantly, "Your pussy is better than a birthday cake anyway."

"Bitch, I got you a cake from Honeybee," You snapped, breaking your horny character for a moment.

Namjoon paused as well, sitting back on his heels and looked up at you with a surprised look on his face. It was a good thing the water wasn't angled at him, otherwise you were pretty sure he would've drowned by now.

"Oh, the chocolate one or the passion fruit one?" He asked eagerly, a hopeful look on his face.

"Chocolate, duh- who do you think I am? I only got the passion fruit cake that one time because I wanted to try it." You grumbled, pouting slightly.

"My girl is so smart, good choice. See? You deserve to get head for that, my sweet little girlfriend got me my favorite cake," Joon gushed, squeezing your ass fondly before licking a broad stripe through your folds and making you forget all about the stupid cake.

He sucked your clit into his mouth and wrapped his tongue around it, pushing the sensitive spot around with a mission while two of his fingers ran through your folds and sunk into your pussy decisively. You moaned, feeling him pump his fingers in and out furiously. You clenched around them, wondering why the hell he was going to fast until he switched his fingers and his mouth, tongue dipping into your honeyed center while his fingers flicked at your clit roughly.

You withered above him, barely able to keep your weight up until you felt an orgasm barreling towards you- "No, no, no, Joon- I'm gonna cum, it's too fast."

"No, it's not," He snapped, words vibrating against your clit as his breath against your skin only sent you closer to the edge. "Birthday boy wants his slut to cum."

His words were the final push you needed, cumming around his tongue in waves of pleasure as his fingers ran circles around you clit, milking your orgasm of everything it was worth. You lost the ability to think for a moment, the air leaving your lungs, and you barely had a chance to catch your breath before Joon was standing behind you, one hand gripped on your hip as he slid his cock into you, thrusting up sharply. You let out a surprised noise that contrasted his low moan in your ear, thankful for the sound of water hiding the sound of how wet you were.

"Come on baby, show me how much you love me," He demanded, slapping a large hand down on the side of your ass hard.

He thrust up into you at a bruising pace, using your body for his own pleasure as you did your best to keep up. Namjoon kept one hand on your clit and wrapped his other arm across your body, pulling you taunt against his chest as his hips snapped against yours. You were barely even standing up on your own, Namjoon holding your body so securely you could probably relax completely and he'd just carry you.

"Cum in me," You begged, slamming a hand against the glass wall to throw your ass back on him better, matching his thrusts now that you had a moment to gather your bearings. "Pl-please, will you please fill me up? Fuck- your dick is so big."

"Yeah baby? Feels good?" He asked, sounding all too pleased with himself.

"F-Feels so good- I want you to fill me up, please?" You stuttered, a pathetic noise leaving your body.

You were desperate for him at this point, reduced to a dumb, messy, whiny slut who just wanted her boyfriend to cum in her pussy.

"Don't worry, I'll give it to you- since you asked so nicely." He obliged, slamming his cock into your pussy like he owned it. "Fill you up nice and full so you can spend the rest of the day thinking about it. Maybe I'll let you suck my cock later if you want more, huh?"

"Y-yes, I want it." You moaned, "I want your cock."

He groaned and his thrusts got sloppier, faster still. He pinched your nipple hard, doing the same to your clit and you came again, clenching hard around him before he followed, the two of you slowing the pace down almost completely. He rocked against you, dragging his cock in and out of you slowly as you felt him cum in you, warmth spreading through your lower belly. Your pussy continued to suck him in, wanting to keep him there for as long as possible before he pulled out and watched his cum drip down your thighs, dragging a finger through it.

He held his hand up to your tongue absentmindedly, trying to resume washing your body with the other as you sucked his cum off of his hand.

"We gotta hurry," He mumbled, trying to speed wash you as if he hadn't just demolished your pussy. You were sensitive and moving slowly, spent from the morning activities. "We've been in here for so long, what a waste of water- why did we do this?"

"Because it's your birthday?" You offered lamely, watching as he turned the water off and lifted you into his arms, carrying you out of the shower.

"You shouldn't encourage me," He tssked, "I let the birthday shit get to my head. Horny or not, one should never waste water."

You rolled your eyes, laughing slightly at Joon's strictness with himself. He set you down on the edge of the vanity and handed you a towel, wrapping one around his waist securely.

"This is your fault for showering, we could've just had morning sex in bed like a normal couple but no- you have to leave me every morning to go to the gym." You pointed out.

"I go to the gym to fuck you better, you should be thanking me." He grunted, leaning against the countertop and kissing you again. "Maybe you could suck my cock before dinner to make it up to me."

"God, the birthday thing did get to your head," You gasped, shaking your head dramatically.

"So no head?" He pouted, an adorably wide eyed look on his face.

"Oh, head for sure." You corrected, nodding eagerly.

It was his birthday, after all.

(A/N: I have created...a monster.)

#namjoon smut #namjoon fic #bts fic #bts smut #namjoon birthday fic #namjoon x you #namjoon x oc #namjoon fluff #namjoon shower sex #bts shower sex #namjoon x reader #kim namjoon fanfiction #namjoon imagine

834 notes · View notes

army-author · 3 years

Text

jungkook scenario | the alchemy of amor

❝ jungkook is the arrogant son of the duke. you’re a humble alchemist just trying to make a living. unfortunately for you, jungkook seems to have taken a strange interest in you. when a dangerous wager involving a love potion spirals out of control, you find yourself flung into the deep end of emotion, and it becomes difficult to decipher genuine attraction from magical aftereffect... ❞

➝ prompt: i’m a witch who’s been experimenting with love-potion formulas, but there’s been a bit of a mix-up, and now the love-potion has somehow ended up in your hands, and you’re drinking it, and - no, please stop!

➝ pairing: jungkook x female reader

➝ genre: fluff, fantasy au, enemies to lovers

➝ requested by anon | 15.5k words

➝ warnings: profanity, mild injury, implied smut, some characters express misogynist sentiments

➝ author’s note: i hope you enjoy it! i had a lot of fun writing it. as you can see from the word count, i got a bit carried away. i can’t help it, i love enemies to lovers!

Oh goddess above, please not this. Anything but this.

You are not wont to pray, but in circumstances such as this, with your life unravelling before you in tattered ribbons, your mind recalls the goddess you so often forget. Watching in horror, your supplications come thick and fast, as Jeon Jungkook downs the phial of rose-gold potion, and with it, swallows the hours of work you had invested into those shimmering contents.

Normally, you would not be so perturbed by the wasting of a potion, even one as rare as Impetus Amor. Ingredients can always be re-bought, potions can always be re-brewed. But something about Jungkook’s cocky expression as he sets down the vial, and raises a brow at you, overwhelms you with the heat of irrational fury.

“Mighty goddess above, what is wrong with you?” you spit venom more potent than your potions. “You know very well how long that took to brew!”

Jungkook shrugs his shoulders, “Tough.” He smacks his lips together, “Looks like the potion doesn’t work anyway. And on top of that, it tastes bad. Like dried roses and soap.”

How does he know what dried roses and soap taste like?

“It wasn’t intended for you,” you retort through gritted teeth.

You know that the potion does work. After all the work you invested - collecting rose-petals, gold shavings, and pegasus feathers, all to be brewed on a blue moon, and then carefully distilled – there was no way that the batch of Impetus Amor was unsuccessful. But every alchemist worth their gold knows that the finicky love potion takes a few minutes to take effect after ingestion.

Which means that in a few minutes Jeon Jungkook, the man you hate most, will involuntarily fall in love with you.

How could I let this happen? You cast your mind over the unfortunate events that had led you to this low point, while you stifle a scream.

✽ ✽ ✽

[Several days ago]

It starts when one of your customers steps into your potions shop, in the town of Sientha, with a peculiar order.

She wears a red hood that covers most of her face, and clutches a purse tightly in her gloved hand. Glancing furtively around the shop, she walks over to your counter, and slips a note between the demijohns and ampuls that crowd the area where you work.

Upon unfolding her note, your eyes widen. The note reads: ‘One vial of Impetus Amor’. You focus your eyes on the client, who keeps her head down. You can just make out shapely lips and a dainty chin below the lowered hood.

“I know it’s a difficult potion to make,” she says in a hushed tone, “But I’m willing to pay whatever you need for it.”

You study her intently. Below the cloak, you can see an expensive dress, and jewellery sparkling at her neck. It’s clear that she has the means to pay. In most circumstances, you would object to the use of Impetus Amor, but it is not your responsibility to tell your customers how to use your potions. You simply get on with brewing, and ask no questions. That’s how you make a living. This case wouldn’t be any different.

“Okay,” you say, “I must warn you that it will take quite a while to make, and most of the ingredients are quite rare, so the wait may be long.”

“I’m well aware of that.”

You nod, leaning against the counter, as you tally up how much the potion will cost in ingredients and labour. When you finally name your price, the woman is silent for a moment, contemplating, before she nods, and rummages in her purse. She takes out a small brown sack, heavy with coin, which she places in front of you. Counting up the money, you nod in satisfaction. “You’re in luck. There’s a blue moon soon, and the potion should be ready not long after. Roughly five weeks,” you advise, “Come by to collect it when you’re able.”

Satisfied, the woman leaves the shop, while you gape at the sack of coins on your counter top. You hadn’t had that much money to your name in a long time.

Impetus Amor – the potion is infamously difficult to create, but you’re ready for a challenge. Spinning around to the shelf of tomes behind you, you scour the tittles until you find the one you need. You pull the tome down from its shelf, holding your breath as a fog of dust descents around you. So it begins.

✽ ✽ ✽

The first mistake you make is accepting the request from the mysterious woman who came into your shop.

Your second mistake is letting Jungkook into your shop. Or letting Jungkook anywhere near you at all.

Jungkook is the only son of the duke of Braewyth, the duchy you reside in - a hobbyist alchemist and your tormentor in his spare time. When he had first barged into your potion shop, and declared that he wanted to learn the art of alchemy, you were led to the conclusion that he was a pretentious prick. This suspicion proved to be correct, as after a few lessons from you – out of the goodness of your heart, and the impossibility of saying ‘No’ to the heir of the duchy – Jungkook believed himself to be better than you with your fifteen years of experience. He was now convinced that the two of you were rivals, and you were convinced that he was a pain in the arse.

As you work on crushing down dried rose petals for your new project, Jungkook barges into your shop once more. He doesn’t seem to know of any other way to make an entrance into your tiny business. He leans over the counter, his eyes burning on your skin as you work.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“Preparing ingredients for Impetus Amor.”

His nose wrinkles as he leans back on the counter, crossing his arms over his overcoat, embroidered with the emblem of the duchy, a snow white stag on a blue shield. “Ah, the potion of love,” he muses, “I’ve heard that one’s incredibly difficult to make.”

“I know,” you grimace, as you continue to grind rose petals to a fine red dust in your stone mortar. “What of it, Mr. Jeon?”

The duke’s son gives an impartial shrug. “I’m merely stating that it’s a laborious potion to perfect. I’m surprised you’re attempting it.”

You bite down on your cheek to stop yourself from speaking indecently to Braewyth’s heir. “My customers respect me, and know that I’ll carry out any requests with the utmost care,” you cut back with thinly veiled anger.

Jungkook leans back lazily, his elbow brushing dangerously close to a decanter filled with Verum Serum, a silver truth potion you’ve been working on. “Well then, my little apothecary, why don’t we make a wager?”

You raise an eyebrow, setting down your mortar, and waiting for him to continue.

“I’m willing to bet that you won’t be able to finish the potion,” Jungkook says, “In fact, if you finish it, and it works, I’ll pay you in gold.” He grins.

“And if I can’t?” you enquire. It’s an unlikely option, but you need to know what you are dealing with. You find it difficult to refuse the offer of money, especially if it’s a loss for Jungkook, but you’re wary of the consequences on the (very low) chance that you are unsuccessful.

“Don’t worry,” Jungkook raises a hand, “I know you can’t pay much gold.” Your cheeks heat up. “But if you lose, then I demand a kiss from you.”

Biting down a retort, you take a deep breath, and remind yourself that it is unacceptable to call the son of the duke a ‘Bastard’, no matter how much you want to. Instead, with your fists balling, you reply, “Very well, Mr. Jeon. But please be prepared to lose.”

His eyes glitter under your gaze, “Okay.”

You know that there is no way you can lose. Still, the very thought of admitting defeat and letting him kiss you has your blood boiling as it churns through your heart. You ought to show more respect to the son of the duke - to most a kiss from him would be an honour - but your find respect hard to muster when he does nothing but flirt with the ladies about the town of Sientha, strutting arrogantly down the streets with a different girl handing off his arm each night.

It’s Jungkook’s loss for certain. You’ll make sure of that.

✽ ✽ ✽

Despite your confidence, Jungkook does everything he can to get in your way.

The next morning you raise yourself early from your bed to head into the mountains in search of pegasus feathers. Jungkook catches you on your walk between your shop and the stables, with your satchel slung across your back, and a grenadine-coloured cloak covering your riding boots and trousers. He saunters across the cobbled street to greet you. “Look at you. Out and about. It’s not often I see you step out of the comforts of your shop.”

“Perhaps if you were up earlier, it wouldn’t be such an irregular occurrence for you,” you chide, as you make for the bridge to the east, leading out of Sientha, “I often go out in the morning to track down ingredients.”

“My apologies that I don’t know your schedule by heart, little alchemist,” Jungkook ripostes, keeping pace with you, short steps for his longer legs, “I’ll have you know that I have many duties that keep me in the Braewyth manor until later in the day.”

Uninterested, you reach the stables where your ebony mare waits, whickering in recognition when you reach her stall. You begin saddling up, annoyed by the presence of Jungkook behind you, which you try to ignore – but like a fly buzzing around an empty room, it gets too irritating too quickly. “Are you planning on following me around all day like a cur in heat?” you ask, and Jungkook smirks, clearly amused to have scratched at some deep seated vexation inside you.

“That’s no way to talk to me, little alchemist,” he reminds you, waggling a taunting finger.

You sigh, adjusting the bridle on your mare. “Please excuse me, my good sir,” you lace your voice with sarcasm, “It wan’t my intention to offend. I was simply surprised to see someone like you showing an interest in my humble activities.” You offer him a sickly sweet smile, before hoisting yourself up into your saddle.

Ignoring your mockery, Jungkook looks up at you from under your dark lashes, “Well, where are you headed today?”

You bite down on your instinctual reply, thinking better of telling him it’s none of his business. “I’m going to the mouth of the River Waye. It’s rumoured that a pegasus has nested there, and I need its feathers.”

“For the Impetus Amor?” Jungkook’s eyes gleam.

You bow your head in a nod.

“Excellent. I’d love to come with you,” Jungkook sates, “I’ve never seen a real pegasus.”

As you open your mouth, ready to deny him, he interrupts, “You offered to tutor me on alchemy after all. Ingredient collection is a vital part of the hobby.”

I never offered to tutor you, you simply thrust your cumbersome presence upon me. Before you can say any of this out loud, Jungkook is calling for one of the stable hands to saddle up one of their horses. “Mr. Jeon, need I remind you that this hobby is a source of income for some,” you’re left to respond, somewhat hopelessly, as Jungkook stares up at you in your saddle.

Your mare shifts restless, unsure why she’s still cooped in her stable.

“If it’s such a burden to earn a livelihood, then I’m sure you could find some kind husband who’d be more than happy to take care of you,” Jungkook responds, “With looks like yours, you’d never have to work another day in your life.”

Your blood boils in frustration. You bite down on your lip, watching in cold silence as the stable hand brings a chestnut stallion over to Jungkook, handing him the reins. Your horse senses your unease, and with a prick of your heels in her side, she’s all too happy to trot out of the stable and into the harsh sunshine of the winter morning.

Jungkook follows behind, his stallion’s horseshoes clacking on the cobblestones.

“I’ll have you know, Mr. Jeon,” you say, controlling your tone as best you can, “I’m perfectly content making a living for myself, and am in no need of a husband.”

“And what of it?” Jungkook spurs on his horse, overtaking you as you reach the bridge out of Sientha, where the town guards immediately part, recognising the duchy crest on Jungkook’s overcoat.

As you follow over the bridge, Jungkook casts a look over his shoulder at you, “You wish to spend your whole life brewing potions, and die an old maid?”

“I know of worse fates,” you say, “I would rather live as a lowly alchemist than the chattel of some rich cretin such as yourself.”

Jungkook falls into silence, face frosty, and you wonder if your pushed things too far.

As you continue down the road, the quality of the surface worsens, with more potholes appearing the further you travel from Sientha. Fallen mute, you and Jungkook pass fields, appearing empty after the harvests of autumn.

It’s a long way to the mouth of the River Waye, which lies in the valley between two mountains, Mount Cantre and Ayn Blanch. The two peaks rise above you in the distance. As you branch off the main road onto a dirt track, you allow your mare to break into a gallop, and Jungkook urges his horse on to keep up with yours. You cast a glance over to him as he keeps stride beside you, his jaw set and his brows furrowed over dark eyes. With your gaze fixed, you almost miss the shouting, until the ruckus is directly behind you. Snapping your neck around, you see a group of Braewyth soldiers approaching on horseback. You pull on your mare’s reigns, attempting to bring her to a halt, but the soldiers are already upon you, passing by on the narrow track. Your skittish mare rears as the soldiers rush past, and you find your view turned upside down. Thrown from the saddle, you land on your rear in a soft pile of moss. You’re lucky to have nothing but your pride bruised.

Jungkook brings his horse to a halt next to you, and leaps down from his saddle, catching your spooked mare’s reigns, before she makes to bolt. Soothing the black horse with hushed murmurs, Jungkook leads her to a nearby tree, where he ties the reigns to a low hanging branch. “Are you alright?” he turns his attention back to you.

You wince, and take his hand, allowing him to pull you up. “Yes, I’m okay. Just a little shaken.”

“Good.” His voice is gruff, “Those bloody soldiers. I wonder if they realise who they just overtook. I’ve a mind to report them to my father.”

“Don’t bother,” you dust down your cape, “Everyone knows the Braewyth soldiers are bloated with pride after the last success in war.”

Jungkook snorts. “That war was three years ago. Their only responsibility now is to protect the people of the duchy, and they can’t even do that!” He heaves a sigh, eyes cast to the sky, where the harsh sun shines down from an empty winter sky. “No matter, we’re wasting time here. If you’re sure you’re alright, then we should crack on.”

You walk over to untie your mare, who has now calmed down and is happily grazing on some grass by the side of the road. Hoisting yourself into your saddle, you edge her on with a soft nudge of your heels. Ahead of you, Jungkook has already mounted his ride, patting the neck of his stallion. You’re almost in a mind to apologise to Jungkook for calling him a “cretin” earlier, but you bite back the words, pride getting in the way.

You continue the journey in silence. The path is long, and as your altitude increases, the temperature plummets. Shivering, you pull your cloak closer around you. Your mare huffs out puffs of warm breath as she trots down the winding track, weaving between the smaller hills that spread towards the Braewyth mountains. Further ahead, Jungkook is hunched down in his saddle, looking cold, but staying stubbornly silent.

At last, you come to the edge of the valley, and begin to follow the track next to the shallow section of the River Waye. The banks are padded with moss, and you spot the sleek shining bodies of carp flickering in the crystalline water.

Slowing your mare, you slip off your mount, and tie her to a barren tree at the edge of the water. Ahead of you, Jungkook, having noticed you have stopped, dismounts as well. “Are we there?” he asks.

You nod, putting a finger to your lips. With a hushed voice, you respond: “Nearly. But we need to proceed on foot. Pegasus are incredibly skittish. We’ll be quieter without the horses.”

Passing Jungkook, you follow the winding path next to the Waye, stepping on the spongy moss to silence your footsteps. The two mountains rise up on either side of you – on the left, Ayn Blanche, its peak capped with snow, and on the right, Mount Cantre, sitting squat in Ayn Blanche’s shadow. The valley in between is adorned with scree; clumps of heather dot the otherwise drab landscape.

You slow to a stop when your sharp eyes catch sight of what you were hoping for – hoof prints and loose white hairs caught on a bramble. Leaning down, you pick up a strand of hair, running your fingers over it. Course and thick, there’s no denying it. The hair from a pegasus’ mane.

“There’s a pegasus somewhere around here,” you inform Jungkook in a hushed tone, pointing out the hoof prints to him.

Staying silent, oddly obedient, Jungkook nods, eyes scanning the area.

Carefully, you make your way along the trail of hoof prints. Ahead of you, you spot an opening on the steep flank of Ayn Blanche, a few meters from the base. It appears to be the perfect spot for a pegasus nest, tucked away from the wind that normally sweeps through the valley. Walking to the base, you search for a good foothold, and begin to hoist yourself up the craggy slope to the opening.

“Wait, what are you doing?” Jungkook breaks his unofficial vow of silence.

“Isn’t it obvious?” you huff, “I’m getting up to the pegasus’ nest.”

“Isn’t that dangerous work for… well...” Jungkook trails off. Probably for the best.

“I’ve climbed my fair share of rock faces,” you assure him, “Alchemy isn’t just about sitting daintily at a table stirring tiny beakers and keeping one’s hands soft and free of callouses.”

“But won’t the pegasus be angered if you enter its nest?” Jungkook worries from below.

As you stretch to reach for a rock that juts out above you, you grunt, “You know, Mr. Jeon, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were concerned for my wellbeing.”

You’re disappointed that you cannot look down to see the pout that is so evident in his voice as he retorts, “Well it wouldn’t look good if I were to go out with a young maiden, and return back with her maimed. People might talk.”

“People will always talk, regardless,” you say, pulling yourself up to the ledge at the front of the opening. “Don’t fear, Pegasus are only aggressive to those they deem to have a wicked soul. Which means I’ll be fine. But you might need to watch out.”

Before Jungkook can shoot back a reply, you turn your attention to the opening that houses the nest. The space is large, big enough for a pegasus. Peering in, you see that the nest is empty of any life, but the small cave is filled with exactly what you need – feathers caught on the rocky outcroppings. Pulling out a bottle from your satchel, you scoop up a few feathers, and preserved them in your glass. The feathers sparkle slightly in the sunshine that throws slanted rays into the cave. Satisfied with your find, you get ready to climb back down.

Just then, you hear a shout, and peer down to see Jungkook waving his hands at you from the bottom of the steep rock face. He gesticulates wildly, pointing downstream. You look in that direction, a spot the white shape of a pegasus, just before it plummets down with a splash into the Waye.

Quickly, you scramble down the rocks, and sprint to the river, where you see the water running red. An arrow is sticking from the flank of the pegasus, which raises its head above the water, straining to get up, before it flops down again. Horrified, you scan the area, trying to figure out where the arrow was fired from. It doesn’t take you long. Two poachers approach, a net swinging from their hands.

“Oi, get away from that creature,” one of them shouts upon spotting you.

“What are you going to do with it?” you ask, moving your body to block the pegasus.

“We’re going to make a fortune peddling off it’s body parts to alchemists,” the shorter of the two informs you, “Those occultists pay a hefty price for hair and feathers you know, not to mention a fresh heart, or a vial of blood.”

You grit your teeth, standing up straighter, “It’s a negative stereotype that alchemists use blood and hearts in their potions. And the hair and feathers are only useful if they’ve come from a living creature. You’re wasting your time if you think you’ll make money killing and harvesting this animal.”

The taller one laughs – an ugly sound that sends a shudder through you. “And what would you know about alchemy, wench? If I have questions about my cooking, or my laundry I’ll come to you. So how about you keep your mouth shut on things you know nothing about?”

Stifling your rage, your bite back, “I’m not letting you near this creature. Not one step further.”

“Oh, well, aren’t you just a darling bloody saint. Protecting the innocent fauna of the land. I don’t remember asking for a sermon on the morality of killing dumb animals.” Your eye catches the movement of the taller man’s hand to the hilt of his sword. “Now, I would suggest you get out of the way, before I make you get out of the way.”

You size the two men up, and swallow. You have a small dagger on your hip, usually used for cutting plant shoots. Not much use against two swords. Still, you bring your hand to your hip in anticipation, unwilling to back down.

“I order you to stop!”

You glance towards the source of the voice. Jungkook is standing behind you with his rapier raised, his stance indicating years of training in fencing. With two calculated blows he could puncture the stomachs of both poachers. The two men blanche.

Nonetheless, the shorter of the two poachers blusters on, “Who the hell do you think you are?”

“I’m Jeon Jungkook, son of the duke of Braewyth. I’m sure I don’t need to remind you two gentlemen that pegasus are considered an endangered species, and it’s a criminal offence to poach them, punishable by a good flogging in Sientha square.”

The shorter poacher swallows, his hand wavering.

The taller of the two is only all the more incited. “I don’t give a fuck. You’re not a king. Not even a prince. Just some lesser noble with a silver spoon shoved up your arse. What are you going to do, report me? We’re out in the middle of fuck-knows where, and you’re outnumbered, two to one.” He raises his sword.

“Actually, it’s two against two,” you correct him, unsheathing your dagger.

“Well that seems fair then, doesn’t it,” Jungkook purrs, “Fine, I suppose I’ll just have to punish you myself, seeing as we’re in the middle of “fuck-knows where”, as you so eloquently put it.”

The shorter of the two gulps audibly, and then turns tail and begins running in the opposite direction, slipping over the mossy rocks by the Waye’s bank.

A wiser man would have retreated, but it appears that the taller poacher is somewhat lacking in cognitive ability. With a roar, he lunges at Jungkook, who easily pirouettes out of reach, leaving the lanky man to swipe at thin air. Growling, the man rights himself, and launches at Jungkook, but the duke’s son easily parries the blow with his blade, a metallic clang echoing in the valley. The poacher stumbles back, grimacing. Seeing that he has underestimated the “lesser noble”, the poacher makes a grab for you instead.

You attempt to duck out of the way, but slip on the wet rocks, and feel a clammy hand grab around your wrist, pulling you into the hard body of the poacher. Up close, he smells of onions and beer. You struggle against him, but upon feeling cold steel at your throat, you freeze.

“Not another move,” the poacher growls, “Or this wench gets it.”

You glance at Jungkook, who stands poised, with rapier raised. An expression of fear flashes across his face, like a fleeting cloud on a sunny day, passing so fast, you could convince yourself you imagined it.

The poacher’s plot could have worked out for him, had he not underestimated your strength.

As he leers at Jungkook, you grasp at the advantage of surprise. With a sudden twist, like a striking viper, your hand – still holding the dagger - snaps up, and strikes the man on the side of the head with the hard wooden hilt. The man crumples with a screech.

You leap away. At the exact same instant, Jungkook jumps forward. You turn to see the son of the duke standing over the poacher, his rapier raised to the tall man’s stubbly throat. The poacher whimpers, with one hand clutching his face where you struck him. A trickle of blood trails down the wrinkles of his face.

“Now listen carefully,” Jungkook says, his voice low and dangerous, “I could kill you right here. But I’m choosing to spare you. I would suggest you get off your sorry arse, get up, and run away. Take your possessions, your wife and children – if you have any – and flee this duchy. Because know that you are a wanted man while you remain in the borders of Braewyth. I know your face, and soon ever guard in our troops will know it too. The punishment for poaching endangered creatures is flogging. The punishment for an attempt on the heir of the duchy’s life is the gallows. There will not be mercy the second time. Do I make myself clear?”

The man nods, slowly and carefully, his throat strained below the point of Jungkook’s rapier.

Jungkook lifts the blade. “Go.”

The poacher does not need any more prodding. Scrambling to his feet, he flees, glancing behind him every so often, as if he is scared that Jungkook will change his mind and follow after him.

Jungkook breathes a sigh, sheathing his rapier. The sweat on his neck is the only indication that he was at all shaken by the encounter. Your return your dagger to the holster on your hip, and turn your attention to the pegasus which still lies in the shallow portion of the river, breathing heavily. You carefully walk over, and inspect the damage.

There’s one arrow lodged in its side, but from the other gashes on its white coat, it appears that several other arrows hit, but subsequently fell out, leaving the creature to bleed from multiple open wounds. The pegasus lets out a distressed whinny as you approach, and makes an attempt to get up. Its legs shake, and it collapses back with a splash, too weak to run away. It has already lost a lot of blood.

“Shh, it’s okay,” you murmur, “I’m not going to hurt you.” You know the creature can’t understand you, but you hope your tone is at least soothing. The pegasus thrashes in the shallow water, but realising it is too weak to move, it resolves itself to its fate, and lays its head down.

You crouch next to it, ignoring the cold water that soaks into your boots and riding trousers. Carefully, you pull a bottle from your satchel, and uncork it. You are thankful that you often carry first aid potions around. Wafting the bottle under the pegasus’ nose, you watch as it inhales the scent of your soothing potion and relaxes. With the creature sedated, you pull the arrow from the skin, and apply pressure to staunch the flow of blood that follows. Hunting in your satchel, you pull out a second potion, filled with healing balm. Pouring the thick green liquid onto your palms, you begin massaging it onto the pegasus’ open wounds. The smell of lavender and sage emanates from the balm, covering up the bitter metallic smell of blood.

Straightening up, you back away from the pegasus. The creature tentatively stands up, taking a few hesitant steps forward. Strengthened and emboldened, the pegasus canters forward with a whicker, its large wings ruffling as it takes flight.

“What did you give it?” Jungkook asks, watching the pegasus soar towards its nest.

“A simple Salutare Decoction,” you tell him, “Made to soothe and heal wounds, and-”

“And restore vitality. Yes, I know the one,” Jungkook interrupts, “I’ve never seen it used in practice.”

You flash him a cocky smile. “There’s no shame in admitting you’re impressed by my talents, Mr. Jeon.”

The heir of the duchy grimaces, “I’ll be impressed if you can actually make the Impetus Amor.”

“Oh, you of little faith. Are you allergic to admiring anyone who isn’t yourself?”

“Don’t get too arrogant, little alchemist.” Jungkook tramps back to his horse, his back a silhouette of irritation with shoulders hunched and head lowered. “Don’t forget who saved you from those poachers, you ungrateful wench.”

You snort, walking back to your mare, “Some help you were when I had a blade held to my throat...”

“If you had been alone, you would have been slashed to ribbons,” Jungkook parries, hoisting himself into his saddle. With a dig of his heels, his stallion canters forward before you can get another word in.

By the time you’ve swung yourself into your saddle, Jungkook is far ahead, and you know there’s no way your mare can catch up with Jungkook’s brawny stallion.

Clucking at your ebony horse, you encourage her into a trot, muttering insults that Jungkook will never hear while you weave down the path back to Sientha.

✽ ✽ ✽

With the necessary ingredients, you’re finally able to start work on the Impetus Amor once you return to your shop. There’s no sign of Jungkook as you work throughout the rest of the day, and of that you are glad.

If you never see his cocky face again, it’ll be too soon for you. Yet, as you crush down thin sheets of gold into fine dust, his visage clouds your vision. Even as you watch the pegasus feathers steep in rose water, the shimmering sheen slowing leeching from the feather into the liquid, you cannot shake his sure smile and steadfast gaze from your clouded thoughts.

Dazed, you extract the feather from the liquid, leaving behind the opalescent rose water. The ingredients are ready. You simply have to wait. The next blue moon will be soon – a lucky coincidence.

Your luck is sure to run out eventually.

✽ ✽ ✽

On the night of the blue moon, once your shop is closed for the evening, you begin to prepare for the brewing of the potion. You start by getting your ingredients together, setting them up in a semicircle around your caldron. While you may have no control over your own life, you can easily command ingredients to do your bidding, controlling the brewing process and modifying as you go. The whole process is a soothing ritual for you.

At least it would be, if it weren’t for an irksome knocking coming from your door.

Sighing, you leave your ingredients by the caldron, and go to the door. You slide back the wooden latch, and outside you see -

“Jungkook?”

He stands, illuminated in a halo from the lanterns outside.

You wrinkle your nose. “What do you want?”

“Is that any way to greet the heir of the duchy?”

Rolling your eyes, you open the door to him, “Mr. Jeon, what an honour to see you at the threshold of my humble shop. Please make yourself at home. Is that any better?”

“A little,” Jungkook steps inside your shop.

You’re already seething, and he hasn’t even been in your presence for more than a minute. “What are you doing here at this hour?”

“I needed your expertise on something,” Jungkook says, sauntering over to your counter, and leaning against it.

You snort. “I find it hard to believe you think anyone besides yourself has any expertise.”

“Your words sting, little alchemist,” his eyes drag across the supplies lined on the shelves of your shop, before finally coming to rest on you. “I came here for some advice. Yes, yes, take time to gloat if it makes you feel better.” He waves a dismissive hand.

The gloating wouldn’t feel so good with his dark eyes piercing yours. You swallow, and stay silent.

“I need a potion to help me stay awake,” Jungkook admits.

You raise your brows. “It’s not healthy to stay awake for long periods of time, Mr. Jeon.”

“Well of course. It’s a one-off, naturally,” he shrugs at your concerns, “I’m just a little tied up you see. I promised a lovely lady that I’d take her dancing this evening, but I also have a commitment to the duchy, and that means being in attendance at an early morning meeting tomorrow. I was quite hoping to spend some quality time with the lady tonight, if you understand my meaning.”

“Are you sure it’s not an aphrodisiac you’re after instead?” you quip.

Jungkook raises his brows in feigned surprise. “What do you take me for? Some kind of cad?”

“Are you not a cad?” You examine him skeptically, “I see you around town with a different lady each day. What conclusions am I supposed to draw?”

“Well, perhaps you’re not so wrong,” Jungkook grins, “Just don’t tell the ladies that.”

“Don’t worry. They’re all too posh to speak to me, let alone believe my accusations that Jeon Jungkook is a good for nothing bounder who only cares about the delicacies that hide beneath their petticoats and pantaloons.”

“Can you help with the potion or not?” Jungkook has grown bored of your jokes.

Stepping behind your counter, you begin to rummage around the shelves. “Luckily for you, Vigil Concoction only takes a few minutes to brew.” You grab a jar of rhodiola rosea, along with a fine iron powder, and the scales of a mermaid. Crushing the aquamarine scales to a fine dust, you mix the ingredients together with a drop of lime juice. Jungkook watches, fascinated, as you pour the ingredients into a clean caldron, and bring the concoction to a boil. The smell of brine mixed with lime cuts through the air.

Jungkook's eyes wander over to the ingredients set aside for the Impetus Amor. “I see you’re finally going to be brewing it tonight,” he nods at the ingredients.

“Yes, I was about to before you interrupted,” you say, stirring the Vigil Concoction.

“So if it’s brewed tonight, it should be ready in a few days, correct?”

You sigh, and affirm, “Correct.”

“Well, I suppose we’ll just have to wait until then to see if you were actually successful.”

You wince. You had been hoping that Jungkook would forget your wager. Instead of continuing that train of thought, you change the subject. “If you don’t mind me asking, why not cancel your plans with this maiden, and attend the meeting. Any lady would be more than willing to change her plans for you.”

Jungkook sighs, “Actually, meeting with her was my father’s idea.”

You pause stirring the concoction to eye Jungkook with curiosity. “I didn’t take the duke to be the type to encourage copulation with fair damsels.”

“Wether I have sexual relations with the women does not matter,” Jungkook blushes, “My father is insistent that I find a wife.”

You splutter, and his dark eyes flash.

“Did I say something that amused you?”

“No, sorry,” you focus your attention on the potion, “It’s simply difficult to imagine you settling down with a woman.”

“What can I say. Most of the women I meet are a bore. Perfectly satisfactory in the bedroom, but useless outside of it. I struggle to hold a conversation with any of them. I need a lady with more substance if I am to wed her, not just bed her.”

“It must be such a chore being forced to spend time with all those beautiful women,” you tease, decanting the potion into a vial and corking it. Handing it across the counter to Jungkook, you warn, “Wait until it cools down before you consume it.” Your hand brushes against his as he takes the vial.

“Listen,” his voice is quieter, and despite yourself, you find you are trapped in his gaze, “I do not want you to think less of me for this conversation. When I find the right lady, I’ll settle down. I won’t be a cad. I..” he trails off, pocketing the vial. “I… well. Thank you for your help.”

You nod, unsure how to interpret his words. Taking on a professional tone, you say, “The concoction will work for about twelve hours, and will keep you alert and sleepless in that time. Once the twelve hours are up, you may find yourself dozing off quickly, so do be mindful of that.”

“Thank you.” With that, Jungkook leaves your shop. You stand in your empty store, thrown off by the unexpected distraction he caused.

Shaking your head from your hazy thoughts, you get back to the business of brewing Impetus Amor. You sit down in front of the cauldron, with enough ingredients to make several batches. You carefully measure each ingredient out, pouring them into the caldron’s black maw, while the light from the blue moon shines in through the shop window. You murmur a few words as smoke begins to rise from the caldron. The words come from an ancient civilisation, now long dead. The accent is strange and heavy on your tongue. It is the words that are the most demanding part. One wrong inflection, one stutter, and the potion’s strength will wane, or even fade completely. You’ve practiced each phrase thoroughly, just to be safe. As you stir, the liquid in the potion changes from pale translucent to an opaque pearlescent pink. A success. Working quickly, you pour the mixture into an alembic to distill.

Now all that’s left to do is wait.

✽ ✽ ✽

The days pass quicker than you expect, with nothing much to note, apart from the weekend, when a young lady wanders into your shop with a tear stained face, asking for a potion to mend a broken heart. You could have sworn you had seen the lady with her arm strung through Jungkook’s the previous day. You do not comment as you hand her a bottle of Cor Integro.

At last, the Impetus Amor is ready, and right on cue, so is Jungkook. He walks into the shop as you are bottling the love potion.

“Is that it?” His eyes flash over the contents of the glass bottle.

You nod.

“May I?” He holds out a hand, and you hesitate, before relinquishing the bottle to him.

And so concludes the list of bad decisions you made concerning Impetus Amor.

He holds it up to the light, inspecting intently. “Well, it certainly looks convincing. But I suppose we won’t actually know if it works unless we test it.”

The bad feeling forming in your stomach has arrived too late to warn you. Jungkook is already pulling out the cork, and downing the contents of the bottle.

This is how you end up with Jungkook, the one man you cannot stand, drinking your love potion. The first person he looks at will be the one he falls for. He’s looking at you.

Oh goddess above, please not this. Anything but this.

“Mighty gods above, what is wrong with you? You know very well how long that took to brew!” Your attempt to restrain your tone is unsuccessful. Anger pours freely from your words.

Jungkook shrugs his shoulders, “Tough. Looks like the potion doesn’t even work anyway. And on top of that, it tasted bad. Like dried roses and soap.”

“It wasn’t intended for you,” you remind him. “In one hour, it will begin to take effect, and you will be reduced to a fawning dolt, drooling over my every move.”

“That will only happen if the potion actually works. Which it may not.” Jungkook cocks an eyebrow at you, so sure of himself it makes you want to scream. “I cannot have you selling snake oil to the people of Braewyth.”

You are physically trembling with anger. “That potion is incredibly expensive. You’ll have to pay for it.”

“Fret not, you’ll get your money… if it works.” He swivels around, and is about to make for the door, but you dash in from of him, blocking off his means of escape. “I won’t allow you to leave,” you say, “You’ll make a complete fool of yourself if you’re free to roam the streets under the influence of a love potion.”

Jungkook blinks – innocent – and then laughs, “Come now. It won’t be that bad.”

“Yes. Yes, it will be that bad,” you insist, “I’m keeping you here until I can cure you. The last thing we want is for you to cause a scandal.”

Jungkook’s Adam’s apple bobs, finally realising that you’re being serious. “What will the potion do to me?”

“You should have asked before you drank the potion.”

“Perhaps,” he concedes, “It might not work. We still don’t know.” His eyes are wide, like a deer that’s spotted a hunter with an arrow aimed at its heart. “What will it do?”

“It will make you fall in love with me,” you say, “Of course. On top of that, it will cause you great physical pain any time you are not close to me. It will make you desperate for physical contact.”

Jungkook swallows thickly. “Well… let’s… uh… hope you got it wrong then, hmm?”

You frown. “I’ve half a mind to throw you out into the street to make a complete fool of yourself, screaming your love for all bystanders to hear.”

“Surely you’ve got a cure,” Jungkook pleads.

You grit your teeth. “You can’t expect me to simply fix every problem with a magical potion, Mr. Jeon. Alchemy doesn’t always work like that.”

“I’m sorry!” Jungkook blurts, “There, I said it. I’m sorry! I know I’ve cocked up. And I know I take your abilities for granted. I underestimate you all the time. I’m sorry, alright? But you have had it out for me from the moment you met me. You hated me before you even knew me. I don’t know why, but I’m sorry for that too. Now can you please stop piling on the blame and help me?” He holds up his hands, plaintive, “Please. I can’t do this by myself.”

Your shoulders slump. You want to be angry. All you feel is pity.

“Aright, Jungkook,” you concede, “I’ll help you.”

“Thank you,” his voice is soft.

You set the sign on your shop door to ‘Closed’, and bolt it. Then, you move across to your shelf of books. You know that one of these tomes must contain an antidote for a love potion. It’s not something you’ve made before, and you cannot remember which volume it is in, but you know it must be there. You scan the indexes, the pile of rejected tomes towering taller as you search through each book for any help it may provide.

Meanwhile, Jungkook sits on a stool by the counter, fidgeting awkwardly.

At last, in your copy of Payne and Nash’s Antidotes for Advanced Alchemy, you find a potion called Aphrodite’s Cure – an antidote for love potions and aphrodisiacs.

Your finger mechanically runs down the list, checking off each one.

Extract from a siren’s tongue

Sap from a cherry tree

Crushed topaz

You have all those items in your shop. If you believed in the goddess, you would be praising her now. Your finger stops, hovering over the brewing time, spelled out in black ink. Two hours.

“Well, Jungkook...” The duke’s son looks up at the sound of your voice. “I’ve found a cure I can brew, but it will take two hours.”

Jungkook’s hopeful expression falls. “Well, I suppose I can bear being in love with a pain in the arse like you for two hours. Even if you are… the most… the most... beautiful maiden I’ve ever laid eyes on.” He leaps up from his stool.

Your heart pounds, animalistic instincts telling you to run far away.

Still you remain frozen to the spot, while Jungkook makes his way around the counter to grab at you, pulling you close. Your chest presses against his, while his hands grip your waist.

“You’re gorgeous,” Jungkook murmurs, “Forgive me for not telling you earlier.”

Your curse silently, caught in Jungkook’s ardent gaze. Your potion had worked wonders... unfortunately. “Does this drivel normally work on the maidens you woo?” you ask, pushing him away.

He winces as you part. “Please, my dear, it hurts when you force us apart.”

You remember the side effect of Impetus Amor embodies itself as physical pain when a couple is not close to one another. Despite your disdain for Jungkook, you feel a pang of pity for him. “Okay,’ you say, “You may stay near my side. But you can’t get in my way while I work on an antidote for you.”

“But I don’t want to be cured,” Jungkook retorts, “I’m in love with you, and it feels wonderful. I never realised how good it would feel to experience true love. You truly wish to part me from this happiness?”

“Yes. You asked for this. Remember that.”

Jungkook shakes his head. “My past self did not know what he was talking about. I wish to stay by your side, forever..”

“No matter what I do,” you say, “The effects will wear off in a week. I’m merely expediting the process to save you the embarrassment that will follow.”

Firmly, you move away from Jungkook, fetching a bottle of siren’s tongue extract from the top shelf behind your counter, before you dig out your crushed topaz and cherry tree sap from a cupboard. You sit down in front of your caldron and let Jungkook take a seat beside you. His hand comes to rest on your knee. You startle at his touch.

“You said I could stay close to you,” he says, “Sorry, is this too much?”

You shrug. “Do what you need to. Just don’t get in my way.” As you pour the potions into the caldron and begin stirring over a low flame, you try to ignore the heat in your body, shooting up from the spot on your leg where Jungkook’s palm rests. The ingredients begin to bubble in the caldron. You watch carefully, smelling the steam that rises, hoping to discern clues on the quality of the brew. When the scent of caramel begins to waft from the caldron, you remove it from the heat, and allow it to sit for a few minutes before you transfer it to a flask where if will sit for two hours, allowing the ingredients to cool and fully incorporate into Aphrodite’s Cure.

“Well, Jungkook, now we wait.”

He huffs, “I already told you, I don’t want to be cured.”

“Tough,” you tell him. “Eventually you will be, whether you like it or not. Then you’ll be on your own to deal with the shame that follows. I’m not helping you with that.”

He bristles. “I don’t find being in love with you shameful. Not at all. After all, you’re strong-willed, and intelligent, not to mention beautiful! You have more wit and personality than most other women I have wooed. If I were to be embarrassed at the idea of loving you, I ought to cringe at the idea of having bedded the other women.”

“Well, you shan’t be ‘bedding’ me,” you say, “You can’t get between my legs just by flashing me a favourable look.”

Jungkook’s face falls, “You wound me, my dear. You truly believe I only have carnal pleasures on my mind. Do not worry. I know you need respect and commitment before you would allow a man to crawl between the sheets with you.”

You feel your cheeks burning with a blush. “Let me guess – you wish to be the man who will show me that respect and commitment, and will crawl between the sheets with me?”

“Listen,” Jungkook diverges from your pointed question, “I know I need time to prove myself to you. I haven’t shown you my best side while I’ve been around you. I can only ask that you forgive me, and let me show you how much better I can be.”

“I’m used to the way you treat me.” You move away from Jungkook, but he grabs onto you, hands desperate.

“Please don’t leave.”

“I’m not leaving. I just need to get on with work. You may have forced me to close my shop, but that doesn’t mean I can sit and twiddle my thumbs for two hours until you’re cured.”

“But I want to sit here with you,” Jungkook whines. The potion doesn’t seem to have just struck him down with love, but also to have turned him into a pouty brat with the attitude of a spoiled toddler.

Give me strength. “Let me guess,” you say, “You want to hold me, and kiss me? Am I right?”

Jungkook’s face turns red. “You shame me my dear, for it seems you have been reading my thoughts. Forgive me, but how can I help but dream of such things, when you are so comely.”

You try not to roll your eyes. Men under the influence of Impetus Amor are intolerable.

You catch a hold of his hand, which is grabbing your right wrist, and wrench him off you. “Jungkook, I am refusing you for your own good.”

“I do not believe that to be true,” Jungkook says as you pry yourself from him, and begin to scour your shelves for any bottles that appear to be running low. The duke’s son follows you around like a lovesick puppy while you pull out a piece of parchment and begin walking along the shelves taking note of vials and containers that are running empty, so you can get fresh ingredients at the next opportunity. Your hands need to be busy. You feel hapless otherwise.

“I truly believe,” Jungkook pipes up behind you, “That even when this potion wears off, I will still be in love with you. I believe that I have been in love with you for a while.”

You snort a laugh, “You truly do amuse me, Jungkook.”

“Is it so hard to believe I could fall for you?”

You spin around to face Jungkook. He is much closer than you anticipated. A gasp breaks your lips.

“Listen, little alchemist,” his eyes bore into yours, as you step back, your spine pressing against the shelf behind you, “I’ve been trying to fight these feelings, for I know my father would not approve of a woman who is not noble-born, yet I still find myself drawn to you. I wander aimlessly to your shop, just to catch a glimpse of you, just to feel the warmth of your company. And you would scoff at this?”

Your mouth goes dry, tongue feeling heavy in your mouth. The words are difficult to get past your teeth. “You’re lying. It’s just the potion talking.”

“Why would I lie?” Jungkook’s eyes are troubled, “I’ve been falling slowly, ever since I met you. I tried to push off the feelings by treating you harshly. I tried to forget them in the arms of another lover. But still… I always find myself coming back to you.” He lifts a hand, fingers gentle against your cheek. You shiver at his touch. “It’s always you, little alchemist.”

Your lips curl in amusement. “You almost convinced me Jungkook. You speak so earnestly…” You take his hand in your own, pull it away from your face, and let it drop to his side.

His eyes cloud over. “Being unable to touch you, it hurts me physically, you know.”

“I know.” A shard of sympathy embeds in your chest. “It won’t last long though, I promise. I’ll cure you soon.”

“While we wait,” Jungkook’s eyes are dark, “Could you spare me one kiss? Just to ease the pain?”

“Jungkook,” your hand goes to his chest, rising up to rest on his shoulder, “The potion worked. You lost the wager. You were only to get a kiss if you won.”

“Please,” the word falls soft from his mouth.

You stand transfixed, stuck between your shelf of potions, and Jungkook’s body. His face is mere inches from your own. A dreadful curiosity sweeps over you, one that you know you should ignore. Yet, Jungkook is here before you, eyes urgent, and you are tired of fighting him.

“One kiss,” you murmur, “That’s all I’ll allow.”

His hands find purchase on your waist as he moves closer. Your eyelids flutter shut as his breath fans your cheeks, smelling of rose and gold dust. His lips are warm as they settle on your own, mapping out your mouth. You fall captive to the sensation, and suddenly, you understand the appeal that draws countless women to Jungkook’s side. He may be a pain in the arse, but he is wonderfully skilled when it comes to kissing.

Pressed against the shelf, you give in to the affections from a man you were sure you hated. You promise yourself, as his lips part from yours, that you will wipe this feeling from your memory. Yet, even as Jungkook draws back, the ghost of his warmth haunts you.

Lost for words, you blink in the dim light of your shop, suddenly too bright after the dark of closed eyelids. Jungkook leans back against the counter, eyes fixed on you. You struggle, unsure what to say. Instead of saying anything, you simply return to the chores you had assigned yourself, mechanically checking off ingredients on your piece of parchment.

At the counter, Jungkook is suspiciously silent. After a long pause, he finally asks, “What will happen to me when the effects of the potion are cured?”

You turn back to him. “You will forget most of this. It will all feel hazy, like a dream. And you’ll feel a little unwell. Headaches are normal after such strong potions take effect. Some people also suffer nausea, but that depends on one’s constitution. You’ll only suffer for an hour or so, then it should wear off.”

“That wasn’t what I meant,” Jungkook says gently.

You swallow, understanding, “Your feelings will depart. Whatever you are feeling for me now will be replaced with your genuine feelings, so you’ll go back to hating me I suspect.”

Jungkook’s face falls, “I don’t hate you.”

“Well then you’ll go back to mild indifference,” you say, turning back to your shelf to continue working, while Jungkook sits down at the counter, silent.

The hours drag on, with Jungkook’s eyes following your every move. Occasionally, he expresses a desire for physical contact to stop the pain. When he does so, you return to his side, and gently press your palm to his. The action seems to be enough for him.

At last, the hour glass has run through twice, and the potion is ready. You carefully decant it into a vial, and set it in front of Jungkook.

He catches your gaze, “I… I don’t want this.”

“Jungkook, please,” you press your hand to his one last time, “You need to. No matter what, the Impetus Amor will wear off. I’ll still be here when you’re cured.”

His face firms into an expression your don’t recognise, and with a resolute, swift motion, he tips the contents of the vial into his mouth in one go, swallowing with a groan. “You did not warn me that it would taste repulsive.”

“You were already reluctant to take it.”

Jungkook groans again, lowering his head so that his forehead rests on the wooden counter top, “By the goddess, I feel like death. Do you have a potion for a headache?”

“Not one caused by the after effects of Impetus Amor,” you say, “But I do have herbal tea.”

“Yes please.”

Glad to have a task to distract you, you busy yourself with boiling the water and fetching tea leaves.

From his spot at the counter, Jungkook moans, “I embarrassed myself greatly, didn’t I?”

Watching a pleasing golden red spread out from the tea leaves into the boiled water, you reply, “That depends on what you deem to be embarrassing.”

Jungkook grimaces as he lifts his head slightly, then, upon reconsideration, lowers his head again. The colour has drained from his face.

“I imagine you were acting the way you normally would around any fair lady you intended to woo. You were fine. Quite respectful, actually.”

“Please, I don’t wish to remember,” Jungkook moves his head so that his cheek now rests on the counter.

You pass a cup of fresh tea across to him, ‘That should make you feel a little better,” you say.

“I owe you a ‘thank you’,” Jungkook raises his head to blow on the steam rising from the tea cup, “And an apology as well, I fancy.”

You pause, not expecting to hear those words from him.

“I’ve been an arse,” Jungkook says.

“It’s not often you and I agree on something, Jungkook.”

He laughs wryly. “Well, I can’t deny it, can I? I wasted your time and energy today, and for that, I am sorry. From, Jeon Jungkook, son of the duke of Braewyth, to you, master alchemist and potions-brewer extraordinaire, as my equal, please accept my sincere apologies, and my humble gratitude.” He bows his head.

You are unsure how to react, throat tight. All you can muster is an insincere chuckle, and a feeble “No need to be so formal... If you really want to apologise you can give me the gold you promised since it would appear I won this wager.”

“Oh, right!” Jungkook digs in his pockets.

Suddenly, strangely, you feel unsure of yourself. “Listen, I was just joking. I don’t need the money. Really...”

“Nonsense,” Jungkook dumps a sack of coin on the table. “It’s yours, fair and square.” He grins at you and takes a sip of his tea. “This brew really seems to be helping.” As he downs the rest f the cup, you busy your hands with the bottles on your shelf, straightening them so they stand in a tidy row. Jungkook glances through the window of your shop, where the sky above the roofs of the town is turning gold with the setting of the sun. “I’d better head off,” he says, “My father arranged a ball for the eligible women of Braewyth to attend, and he’s hoping I’ll meet someone there. And by someone, I mean specifically Lady Antille from the province of Armestice.” He grimaces. “I’ve heard she’s a dreadful bore. Not to mention there’ll be lots of business men at the dance, hoping to make a good impression, and get funding from my father’s treasury. So overall, I have a very pleasant evening ahead of me.”

“Do you think you’ll ever find a woman you’re happy with?” you ask.

Jungkook wavers on the question, “I’m… not sure. I think I’m cursed by the fact that most noble women are not at all appealing to me.”

You shrug, “It’s all just a pantomime isn’t it? Performing the proper etiquette. Perhaps once the women have a chance to drop the pretence of politeness, you’ll get to know them for who they truly are, and you’ll realise they aren’t as bad as you think.”

“Perhaps,” he looks unconvinced, “But I doubt I’ll have the time for that. My father is hoping I’ll drop down to one knee and propose as soon as I lock eyes with the right woman.”

“Maybe Lady Antille will be the lucky one,” you say.

“The longer this goes on, the more I worry my father will simply pick a lady for me, and force me to marry.”

“I hope not.”

He nods, “Yes. So do I.” He turns for the door.

“Enjoy your evening, Jungkook.”

He pauses at the door, and turns back to look at you, with a gentle smile. “You’ve started calling me Jungkook instead of Mr. Jeon,” he notes.

“Oh, sorry,” your hand springs to your mouth, “Is it improper?”

“A little bit improper,” He smiles, “I like it.”

“Goodbye, Jungkook.”

“Goodbye...” He looks into your eyes, sunshine bathing him from the windows, and your name is soft on his lips. Not ‘little alchemist’. Not ‘wench’. Not ‘my dear’. Just your name. A warmth spreads from your stomach through the rest of your body.

You smile as he closes the door behind him, leaving you alone with the smell of herbal tea filling the shop.

✽ ✽ ✽

As darkness descends on your shop, the sun sinking lower, a lady enters. You recognise the red hood, lowered over her eyes and nose.

“Good evening,” you welcome her as you would all other customers.

Rather than greeting you, she simply asks, “Is the Impetus Amor ready?” Her tone is hushed, despite being the sole customer in your store.

Thankful that you had the foresight to create more than one batch of the potion, you fetch it from your cupboard and place the vial on the counter top in front of her. The potion shines, pearlescent in the fading sunshine.

The lady pushes back a blonde lock from her face, and her shapely lips smile below her hood. “Wonderful. Thank you.” She tales the vial, and places it into her purse. You notice her splendid gown beneath the folds of her red cloak. Only a rich lady could afford such a potion. And such expensive silk. You sigh, despite yourself.

The lady tosses another pouch of gold onto the counter top. “I trust that you will not tell anyone of this exchange.”

You pause, wondering what she means. “All my customer’s orders are confidential,” you assure her.

She nods, satisfied, and swivels on her heel, exiting the shop. As she leaves, she bumps into an older lady who is making her way into your shop. You recognise the older lady, Myrrh, who is one of your regulars. The younger lady’s red hood slips down as she passes Myrrh, revealing a head of golden curls.

“Oh, sorry dear,” Myrrh says.

The golden haired lady bows her head, quickly pulling up her hood again. “Think nothing of it.” With that, she slips into the darkening evening.

Myrrh approaches your counter, while you retrieve her order from the shelf behind you – Fons Iuventae, for aches and pains afflicting old joints. “Well, I never realised you got such fancy clientele in your store, dear,” Myrrh observes, as she counts out her silver coins for you.

You smile, “Her appearance here surprised me as much as it did you, Myrrh.”

The older lady chuckles, ‘Imagine! Lady Antille, in this shop! The store will be the talk of the town soon, I’m sure.”

“Lady Antille?”

Myrrh gives you a strange look as she hands her coins across to you. “You didn’t recognise the Lady of Armestice?”

You shake your head.

“Ah, well now you know,” Myrrh says, “Imagine, me bumping into her like that.” She takes her bottle of Fons Iuventae and heads for the door. You follow behind her, and flip over your store sign to ‘Closed’ once she leaves. The last dregs of sunlight seep through the window. With the shop shut for the night, you go and sit behind the counter, thoughts running at a thousand miles a minute. You know that you should not concern yourself with your customer’s potion usage. After all, you simply provide. You are not responsible for the actions that follow. Yet, you cannot help but have your suspicions.

Before you realise what you are doing, you pick up a vial of Aphrodite’s Cure from yoru counter. Your body leads you to the door, grabbing your satchel, and your cloak, pulling it around you before you step out onto the cobbled street. Your feet lead you to the stable, where you quickly saddle up your mare, and spur her into the dark of night.

The road that leads out of Sientha winds down towards the large mansion where the duke of Braewyth resides. Everyone in Braewyth is familiar with the sugar white house that stands tall, behind a maze of rose bushes. As you ride towards the mansion, rain begins to pelt down, stinging at your cheeks. You continue regardless, pressing your heels into your mare’s side, encouraging her on. You push her harder than you’ve pushed her before, hurtling down the road at a frantic gallop. The mare’s breathing is hard, foam flies from her mouth. Dirt flies from her hooves, kicking up the mud washed onto the road.

Ahead of you, past the sheets of rain, you spot the lights of the Braewyth mansion. Reigning in your mare, you stop her a few paces before the gate, and tie her by one of the trees. She’s breathing heavily, and you give her a reassuring pat before you make for the gates.

A guard, who was leaning lazily against the gate, stands to attention when you approach, raising his spear. “Halt.”

“Please,” you hold up your hands to him, showing that you are unarmed, “I wish to speak with Jeon Jungkook.”

The guard squints at you through the rain. “And who might you be?”

You hesitate. “I’m his alchemy tutor.” Technically not a lie.

“I wasn’t told you would be arriving,” the guard says, “Do you have an invitation to the ball that you can show me?” He sweeps a skeptical gaze over your trousers, flecked with mud, and your fur hood, soaked with rain.

“Please, it’s urgent,” you say.

In the gloom, you see the guard raise his eyebrows.

You wrack your brain, “I have a potion for Jeon Jungkook. He asked me to deliver it to him personally before the ball began.”

“He never told me of this plan.”

Just then, by the mercy of the universe – or perhaps the goddess – Jungkook appears at the other side of the gate.

“Ah, Mr. Jeon,” the guard smiles at you gleefully, hoping to have caught you in a lie, “Have you met this wench before?”

Jungkook walks up to the gate, “Of course. Let her in at once.”

The guard’s mouth hangs open for a slit second, before he quickly corrects his expression, and bows to the heir of Braewyth. “Yes. Right away!” He opens the gate, and scurries to get out of your way.

You hurry over the threshold, and begin walking with Jungkook towards the Braewyth mansion.

“What are you doing here?” Jungkook asks, once you are out of earshot of the guard.

“What about you?” you say, “Do you make it a habit to walk around the garden while it’s tipping it down with rain?”

“I needed some fresh air, and I heard a commotion from the gate,” Jungkook explains, “But I really think you’re the one who ought to be explaining yourself.”

“I...” you’re unsure where to begin, “Has Lady Antille arrived yet?”

“Not yet,” Jungkook says, “Now, will you please stop answering my question with more questions.”

“Sorry,” you swallow, suddenly realising how silly your reasoning will sound.

Jungkook waits, while you remain silent, walking down the path through the rose bushes.

You take a deep breath, “This may sound mad, but I have reason to believe that Lady Antille plans to use Impetus Amor on your tonight.”

Jungkook’s expression turns frosty. “You’re not jesting?”

You nod. “I could be wrong. But the lady who purchased Impetus Amor was Antille. I did not recognise her at first. I suppose it could merely be coincidence, and she is using it for someone else, but I wanted to warn you, just in case.”

Jungkook is grave. “I suppose it would make sense. After all, a marriage into the Braewyth duchy would be beneficial for the province of Armestice. The province is too small to defend itself, so would be willing to seek the protection of a more powerful duchy.” He turns his eyes to you. “Will you be able to stay here with me tonight? I must be in attendance at the ball, and avoiding Lady Antille there is out of the question. If she does try anything, will you be ready to help me?”

You nod, “I have the cure in my satchel, just in case.”

Jungkook nods, taking your hand, and leading you up the marble steps to the mansion door. “Alright, if you’re staying, then you need to get changed.”

“Excuse me?”

“I do not mean to offend, but your trousers won’t be acceptable attire for the ball.”

You swallow as you step into the house. The hallways are greater – both wider and taller - than you had anticipated, with lush white carpets that your feet sink into. You wince at the mud trailed in by your boots.

“Whyn!” Jungkook calls, and a flushed looking maid appears on cue, bowing before him.

“Yes, Mr. Jeon?”

“Can you help my lady friend? She needs to be cleaned up, and needs more appropriate attire for the ball.”

“Of course, Mr. Jeon.”

Before you can even get a word in, you are being herded down the corridor by Whyn, who appears overly eager to do Jungkook’s bidding. You’re pushed into the bathroom, and the last you see of Jungkook is his smile as Whyn closes the door on him.

The bathroom is lavish, tiled with white marble. Ornate sculptures depicting gryphons stand at each corner of the room. Steps lead down to a pool of warm water, from which steam rises, smelling of lavendar. A statue of a stag stands proudly at the centre of the water, with a beautiful woman depicted standing beside him, naked. She holds an urn above the pool, and water pours from the urn into the large bath.

Without any warning, or any chance to protest, Whyn strips you down, and pushes you to the water’s edge. “Quickly, m’am,” she urges, “The ball will be starting soon.”

Grumbling, you step down into the water. However, it’s impossible to continue complaining as the warmth envelops you, easing all the aches in your body. You sink down with a sigh, dipping your head under, and letting your hair become fully soaked.

However relaxing the bathing experience is, you know you need to get back to Jungkook quickly, so after a quick once over with soap, you reluctantly leave the embrace of the sweet smelling water.

Whyn is ready and waiting with a warm towel. She starts drying you off, and you complain that you can dry yourself, but she shushes you stubbornly. “Please, ma’m, let me do my job!”

Once your hair and body are towelled dry, Whyn helps you into the ornate dress she has picked for you. You’ve never worn a dress this fancy before, and until this point, you never understood why ladies needed maids to help them get dressed. Now, as Whyn scurries around you, lacing up your corset, and adjusting your petticoat, you understand. The dress has so many buttons, clasps, and ribbons, that it would take an eternity to dress yourself.

The maid finally helps you pull back your hair, pinning it off your face, so it curls elegantly to frame your cheeks. She steps back to admire her handiwork, allowing you to take in your full reflection in the mirror beside the bath. It’s surprising what a maid’s touch can do. You barely recognise yourself. A regal lady stares back at you from the mirror in a shimmering sapphire-coloured dress, with golden stitching around the bodice, detailing embroidered roses.

“Is it alright, m’am?” Whyn asks, “If you don’t like it, I can find another dress.”

“No, thank you, Whyn,” you smile at her, “It’s perfect.”

The girl flushes and bows her head.

You find your original clothes folded neatly in the corner of the room. You rummage in your satchel, and find your vial of Aphrodite’s Cure, tucking it under your corset for safe-keeping. You turn back to Whyn. “I’m ready.”

The maid leads you out of the bathroom down a snaking maze of corridors, until you reach a set of grand mahogany doors. She pushes the doors open for you, and indicates that you should go in.

You whisper your thanks to her again, and then walk into the ballroom. Inside, the dancing has not yet started, and the room is filled with groups of people, conversing with one another. You spot Jungkook at the far corner, by a set of wide windows that look out onto the garden, which is illuminated by lanterns. You walk over, and a smile erupts on Jungkook’s face as soon as he spots you. He steps forward to greet you.

“Whyn has done a fine job,” he says, casting an admiring glance over you.

You feel you face heat up, unsure how to respond.

“If anyone asks,” Jungkook continues, in a low voice, linking his arm through yours and leading you along the ballroom floor, “You are my personal friend. You needn’t give any more information than that.”

You nod, glancing around nervously, “Has Antille arrived?”

“I haven’t seen her yet,” Jungkook says. “I truly hope your fears are unjustified. But if they’re true, I want you by my side, okay?”

“Don’t worry. I don’t plan on wandering off alone.” Looking around the room, you notice many of the people staring at you. “Why are they looking at us?”

“Well, you are walking arm in arm with the heir of Braewyth, who’s rumoured to be in the market for a wife. People are going to be gossiping about our betrothal as we speak.”

You blush at the thought, allowing Jungkook to lead you around the room, stopping every so often to speak with groups of important sounding people.

Every so often, the door will open and someone will announce the name of the eligible young lady who has entered. The lady will smile and curtsey, and then everyone will go on about their business.

You find yourself stuck in an arduous conversion with an old noble, named Lord Chaperlet, about the effects of increased wheat tax, when the doors to the ballroom open once more, and the announcer cries, “Presenting to you, the Lady of Armestice, the honourable Antille.”

You raise onto your tiptoes to catch a glance at the lady over the heads of the crowd that has gathered.

She’s wearing a gold dress that trails across the floor like spilled champagne , her hair curled perfectly around her face. Lord Chaperlet stops wittering on about wheat tax to stare at the young Lady. “Antille truly is a beauty, is she not?” He winks at Jungkook, who gives a diplomatic chuckle, and says, “Now, now, Lord Chaperlet, what would your wife say if she overheard you?”

The older man gives a hearty laugh. Jungkook’s arm remains interlocked with yours, and shows no sign of budging. You swallow your nerves as Lady Antille approaches.

The lady pauses momentarily upon seeing you by Jungkook’s side, and a flash of ice glazes her gaze before she corrects her expression to a polite smile, and makes her way forward.

“Jeon Jungkook,” she coos, “How are you? It’s a pleasure to meet you. You look as handsome as your portraits portray you.”

Jungkook gives a courteous smile, “I’m wonderful thank you.” He takes the hand she proffers him, kissing her fingers, as is the custom when greeting noble women. “And how are you?”

“Fantastic,” Antille smiles, “Although the coach journey here was frightful! The rain was atrocious. Hence my late arrival, you see.”

“Fashionably late, I would say,” Jungkook replies, and Antille giggles behind her white-gloved hand.

You are out of your depth, silently observing this display of courtly manners.

Antille finally glances your way, in the manner one might glance across at an old dog scratching its fleas in the corner. “And who is this?”

You swallow. You may look different in your gown, but you know she has recognised you from your potions store.

Jungkook answers in your silence. “This is my personal friend.” His arm is still slung through yours. His reassuring fingers squeeze you.

“Is that so?” Antille worries her crimson bottom lip with her teeth for a second, her gaze lingering on you, sizing you up.

It’s a relief when Whyn passes with a tray of glasses filled with champagne, moving between you and Antille. “Would you like a drink?” The maid keeps her head bowed.

Antille takes a glass, and hands it to Jungkook, before taking one for herself, “Might as well enjoy oneself.” She raises her glass to Jungkook.

Jungkook brings the glass to his lips. A flash of worry sparks in your head – the only reason you are here is to stop Jungkook from ingesting any potion. Yet, Antille seems happy to drink the champagne...

Instinctively, your fingers tighten around Jungkook’s arm.

A vague scent of rose water and crushed gold floats towards you.

Jungkook glances at you, confused, before understanding floods into his eyes.

Wracking your brain for a good excuse to leave, your hand springs to your neck, feigning surprise. “Oh, I’ve just noticed! My necklace is gone. I was wearing it when I arrived here, but now it’s gone.”

Jungkook picks up on your cue. “Perhaps it fell off in the hallway by the entrance when you took off your cloak. I’ll help you search.”

“I’m sure that won’t be necessary,” Antille chimes in. “Your friend can manage by herself. After all, everyone in this ballroom is here to speak with you personally, Jungkook. People might talk if you were to leave.”

Seeing Jungkook struggling, you begin sniffing, forcing your eyes to water. “The necklace belonged to my late mother. I can’t believe I was so careless...”

Jungkook hands you a handkerchief so you can dab at your fake tears, and before Antille can say anything else, he escorts you out of the room.

Once the doors of the the ballroom close behind you, you give up your act, following Jungkook down the twisting hallways.

“This is bad,” he mutters, “I should have been more careful. And after your warned me as well!” His hand is firm on your wrist, leading you up a set of stairs, before he slips into a room and quickly bolts the door shut behind him.

You find yourself in a lavish bathroom, this one different from the one you bathed in. Cherub angels are carved into the white frosting-coloured ceiling.

“You need to stay calm,” you tell Jungkook. “It’s going to be okay.”

Jungkook grimaces, “Don’t you understand? That glass came from Whyn’s tray. Antille must have specifically asked her to spike the glass that she would then give me.”

“Maybe Whyn didn’t know what it was,” you suggest.

“Even if she didn’t, a maid shouldn’t put anything into a drink they serve. She’ll loose her job. It’s a shame, I liked her.”

“That’s not the main issue right now,” you remind him, rummaging in the folds of your dress for the vial of Aphrodite’s Cure, “You need to take this.” You hold up the glass to him.

Jungkook smiles, “I’m glad you’re so reliable.”

“I do my best.”

Jungkook makes to take the vial from you, but you pull back, “Wait. You need to take the antidote after the potion actually kicks in.”

“How will I know when that is?” Jungkook asks.

“Even if you don’t notice, I will,” you say, “You’ll start talking gibberish about how in love you are. And you’ll feel a sudden rush of emotion for the first person you looked at after you drank the potion… which was me, I think.”

“Right, of course. A rush of emotions.” He presses his lips together. “Perhaps, for the sake of clarity, I should confess something in that case...”

You furrow your brows. “What do you mean?”

“The trouble is,” Jungkook continues “I believe I have already developed feelings for you.”

When you open your mouth, he holds up a hand to stop you. “Before you say anything – no, the potion hasn’t kicked in yet. I’ve felt this way for a while. I just didn’t know how to deal with these feelings, so I’ve repressed them.”

Your heart rises in a flurry of childish giddiness. You don’t know where the feelings come from, but are surprised to find that you desperately hope he is telling the truth. “Perhaps we should wait until you take the antidote, and then we’ll talk about this...”

His eyes glaze over, strange and distant, “My dear, these feelings will remain unwavering, I promise.”

You press the potion into his hands. “Drink,” you command.

He nods, uncorking the vial, and tipping the contents into his mouth. “Goddess, that tastes vile,” he groans. He sucks a breath through his teeth. With his head lowered, he takes a few seconds to recover, before he murmurs, “Thank you.”

You remain silent, not sure what to say. Your mind is still racing over Jungkook’s earlier confession. He said it wasn’t the potion causing the words to fall from his mouth. Yet, you cannot be sure. A part of you is unexpectedly sad at the though that his profession of love was simply the potion speaking.

Somehow, despite your determination to hate him, you are surprised to find that you love him.

Jungkook raises his head, eyes fixed on yours, “Without you I would have made a complete fool of myself. Not to mention, I probably would have ended up betrothed to Antille, which...” he blows out a sigh. “Let’s not dwell on that. Thank you for all your help. I know I’ve treated you poorly in the past, but you’ve still helped me regardless. That’s the sign of a good person.”

You bite down on your cheek, “Jungkook?”

“Yes?”

“What you said...” Once you start, the words keep spilling, “Before the potion kicked in. About being in love with me. Did you mean that?”

“Sorry, it was improper of me to simply dump that upon you all of a sudden,” Jungkook says, “I suppose I should have kept that to myself. I’ve tried to ignore these feelings, since my father would not approve of someone who is not noble-born. I tried to push the feelings away by treating you brusquely, by distracting myself with other women, but none of it worked.”

“So you mean?”

His gaze is inescapable, “I love you.”

Your breath catches in your throat.

Jungkook chuckles, but his tone is earnest, “Sorry, you look like a startled deer. I know it’s improper to confess without suitable courtship first, but our relationship has always been a little unconventional. Spending my time with you, I was fascinated by you. And that fascination turned into something I’ve never felt before. I’ve never been so open or honest with anyone else. You’ve seen the worst parts of me, and you’ve stuck around despite all that.” His cheeks colour, “I truly am just rambling now, please feel free to tell me to shut up.”

You’re still waiting for the part where Jungkook suddenly says, “It’s merely a jape!” His face is serious.

“Jungkook, I… I don’t know what to say...”

“Then don’t say anything, you don’t have to.”

“No, I want to, I just… the words evade me...” you bite your lip, “Your confession certainly came as a surprise, although not an unwelcome one...”

Jungkook’s eyes shine.

“I’m very happy,” you say, “I would be lying if I said I do not have similar feelings for you. I never thought it would be okay to fall in love with a noble, so I never allowed myself the liberty of even thinking...” You hesitate, “Is it really okay for me to love you?”

Jungkook nods, “Nothing would make me happier.”

“But your father?”

“It’s okay. We’ll make it work. The tradition of nobles courting nobles is ver old-fashioned anyway. I never liked it. Eventually, my father will accept whom I choose. And I choose you.”

He takes your hand, delicately bringing your fingers to his lips. The action is so simple, so gentle – a far cry from the kiss you had shared earlier – yet it feels so strangely intimate with his eyes drinking you in, while his warm mouth caresses your skin.

His lips work their way up to your wrist, then your forearm, then your shoulder, then your cheek, then grazing the side of your mouth. You let him kiss you properly, melting into his warmth, while the carved cherubs smile down at you from above.

Parting, Jungkook sighs, “I wish I could enjoy this without the after effects of Impetus Amor... My head’s killing me...”

You smile, “Don’t worry. There’ll be time for all of this later. I’m not planning on leaving your side.” You hold his hand tight in your own. “For now, let’s go to the kitchen, and see if we can find some herbal tea for you.”

✽ ✽ ✽

After a cup of strong tea, Jungkook has perked up, ready to return to the ballroom. He holds your hand in his own as you make your way down to the main hallway. You can hear string instruments harmonising to a waltz from the ballroom. The dancing seems to have started in your absence.

“I hope you’ll dance with me tonight,” Jungkook says.

“Won’t people talk if they see us together?” you ask.

“Let them,” Jungkook says. “I’ll announce our relationship when you feel ready, and not a second before.”

You smile, “In that case, I’d love to dance with you.”

As you enter the ballroom, Antille glances over at the two of you and blanches. Jungkook lets go of your hand, and walks over to her, asking if she is willing to speak with him.

Antille looks around, as if considering her escape routes, but agrees to go with Jungkook – with obvious reluctance. Jungkook draws her to the edge of the room, away from the dancing couples that glide around the ballroom floor. Where the two of them stand, you can hear their conversation well, although they are tucked away from the rest of the ball guests.

“Antille,” Jungkook says, “I know what you have attempted to do.”

Antille glowers, “Attempted to do? What are you talking about?”

Jungkook continues, “I have enough proof to have you publicly disgraced, but I am willing to let you leave with your dignity intact, so long as you never set foot in this house again.”

“Threaten me all you want,” Antille hisses, “But know that you have made an enemy of Armestice today.”

Jungkook’s face twists into a frown, “That’s not a game you want to play, Lady Antille, believe me. The duchy of Braewyth is not one to be messed with.”

Antille is pale. Her eyes fall to you, and anger flashes vividly in her irises. “I thought I made it clear that my purchase was to be kept a secret.”

Jungkook steps closer to you, “Don’t, Antille,” he warns, “Your quarrel isn’t with her.”

The lady, visibly flustered, turns on her heel towards the door. You watch as she leaves the room.

Jungkook turns his attention to you. “Please don’t worry about her. I know what Armestice is capable of, and it isn’t much. Her threats are simply to stir up fear, but she won’t act on them.”

You smile as he threads his fingers through yours, “Now, would you do me the honour of dancing with me?”

“It would be my pleasure.”

You are aware of the eyes boring into you from all sides as you step onto the dance floor with Jungkook, but in that instant, you don’t care. Jungkook is beside you, his eyes on your face, and a smile on his lips.

For now, that’s enough.

✽ ✽ ✽

It’s a cold morning, but the early spring sunshine is shining stubbornly despite the chill as you walk back to your shop. You have a basket of fresh herbs in your hand, picked from the mountain side.

As you turn the corner onto your street, a smile breaks across your face, recognising a familiar figure standing by your door.

You run over to Jungkook, setting down your basket of herbs, so you can freely fling both arms around him.

He grins, planting a kiss on your forehead. “Good morning.”

You unlock the shop door, and let him enter. It’s still an hour until your shop will open for business.

“How has your morning been so far?” you ask Jungkook, throwing off your cloak, and hanging it by the door.

“Good,” Jungkook says, “The new maid prepared a wonderful breakfast. Eggs and bacon and fresh bread.”

“Sounds much better than the oatmeal I had,” you say.

“Once our relationship is officially made public, you can move into the mansion with me,” Jungkook says, “Then you can have all the eggs and bacon and fresh bread you want.”

You begin sorting the freshly picked herbs into piles on the counter, while Jungkook runs an eye over the potions you have sitting out from brewing last night.

“That will be nice,” you say, “Although I will miss this old shop.”

“I’m sure we can set up a room in the mansion where you can have a workshop to continue brewing potions. People would pay well for potions brewed by the heir of Braewyth’s wife.”

You blush at the word ‘wife’, a thrill travelling through you.

Jungkook eyes some of your older equipment, “We can even get you some new tools. Some of these seem a little… rusty.”

“They’ve served me well, I’ll have you know.”

“Just a suggestion.” He sticks his tongue out at you.

You grin at him, “So what did you want from me this morning? We could continue your alchemy lessons… or...”

Jungkook moves around the counter to be by your side. His hands find your waist, pulling you closer. “Well I had a few plans of my own.”

Your fingers curl through his charcoal hair. “I’m listening.”

Jungkook ducks his head down, his breath ghosting against your ear as he whispers his plan with words that make you blush scarlet. Desire pools inside you as his lips trace a path down your neck to your collar bone, “Don’t think you’re getting out of your alchemy lesson later.”

“Yes, m’am,” he grins, taking your hand in his own.

You let him lead you from your shop up the creaky stairs to your living quarters. You are happy to forget all responsibilities for the next hour, completely lost in Jungkook. You never believed a love potion could lead to true love – yet here you are, completely enveloped in Jungkook, overwhelmed by feeling. You don’t believe in the goddess but you thank her now, thank her that she decided to ruin your life by thrusting Jungkook into it.

The man you hated more than anything in the world has now become the man you love more than anything, and you couldn’t be happier for it.

- THE END -

➝ author’s note: thank you so much for reading! i hope you enjoyed it.

933 notes · View notes

multiplefandomfics · 3 years

Text

Everything happens for a reason

Pairing: Bucky x reader (Former Steve x reader)

Warnings: cheating, angst, pregnancy, semi-public sex, Steve’s an ass in this one,

Words: 5213

A/N: Well this escalated quickly! When you have too much time at work stuff like this happens :D!

I have no idea how they do a c-section or any medical terms of that field other than the stuff I’ve seen on Grey’s Anatomy so forgive me when the birth is wrongly described.

“Babe? You home?” you called out to your fiance excited to tell him the news. No response, so you ventured further into the dark hallway.

You could see light coming from under the bedroom door. Thinking nothing of it because it was already relatively late, you walked to the room and opened the door.

You had not expected the sight before you though. You’re husband to be in the throes of passion with not one but two women.

Shocked, you slammed the door shut again which caused the threesome to startle.

“Honey? Why are you home already? I thought you were gonna go for a drink with your friends.” he called out to you while ripping the door open again…..

“That’s your excuse to cheat on me? That I was not going to see it? WHAT THE FUCK STEVE! We wanted to get married!” you screamed at him and then threw the engagement ring towards his head.

You stormed past him into the bedroom, grabbed some clothes and necessities from your closet and stuffed them into a suitcase. He tried to reason with you, that he wanted to feel free one last time and could pass up the opportunity of a threesome. Like that was actually an excuse.

Everything he said was ignored and so 5 minutes later you sat in your car and that was when the dam broke. You wanted to cry and yell at the same time. How could you have been so stupid as to think someone as honorable and good looking as Steve Rogers was not gonna follow the temptation of so many willing women at some point? You wiped your tears away and contemplated where you could be going for the night.

After thinking for a while you had figured out that most of your friends were also Steve’s you didn’t know if they were going to take his side or yours.

Natasha was not the right idea, she would probably break into his house and kill him in his sleep if she found out he cheated on you like that. And maybe you were in the right mindset to let her do it right now. Wanda and Vision were out of town and Tony would only tell you “I told you so”. That left only one other person in the world you liked enough to see right now. Bucky Barnes. So without further notice you drove to his apartment complex and rang his doorbell at 1am with a packed suitcase in your hand.

“Yes.” you heard a groggy voice through the speakers at the entrance.

“Ehm, hi Bucky. It’s Y/N. Something happened, can I come up?” you were already close to tears again. He must have noticed so he was immediately wide awake and buzzed the door open.

You took the elevator up to the 4th floor and he was already standing in the doorway to his flat only in boxer shorts and a t-shirt.

“Hey, doll. What happened? You look worse for wear.” he looked concerned and let you inside.

“I feel awful for disturbing you in the middle of the night. But I didn’t know where else to go.” you fell into his embrace after he had opened his arms.

“It’s okay darling. Now tell me what happened please.” he inquired.

“Of course. Where do I start?” you frantically searched for words.

“Best if you start at the beginning.” he smiled encouragingly.

“Yes, sure. So tonight I wanted to go for a drink with a few girls from work but didn’t feel alright after work so I rainchecked last minute and went home. But when I stepped into our bedroom, oh Bucky it was terrible, Steve wasn’t alone. There were two naked girls in bed with him.” you had fat tears streaming down your cheeks.

“Impossible. Steve is not a cheater. You sure you saw that right?” The doubt in his voice made you angry.

“I know what I saw Buck!” you got defensive.

“Okay, I believe you. It’s just that I never saw Steve disrespecting someone like that. I’m so sorry for you doll.” he looked genuinely affected by the whole situation and he could understand how Steve could hurt you like this.

“But that’s not the worst part yet… The reason I didn’t feel great and didn’t go out with my friends is… I’m pregnant Bucky and Steve doesn’t know.” you looked downwards.

“Fuck! That is getting more and more complicated. But congratulations doll. You will be a great mom.” he hugged you close. “How about I’ll make you a cup of tea and then you try to sleep a bit.” he suggested.

“Alright. Thank you Bucky. You are my best friend.” he smiled sadly at that statement. He wished you were more than just friends. Maybe now he would have a chance somehow.

Before he could get up though his phone rang.

“It’s him Y/N. You want me to ignore him?”

“No, then he knows I’m here for sure. Tell him you haven’t seen me.”

“Okay, will do.”

“Steve? Do you know how late it is?” Bucky asked with his best impression of a just out of bed voice.

“I’m sorry pal but I need to find Y/N. I did something stupid and she left. Do you know where she is?” you could hear Steve through Bucky’s much too loud phone.

“I’m sorry Steve. I haven’t heard from her. You just woke me up.” he lied.

“Damn! I need to make this up to her. I’m so sorry. If she comes to you, could you tell her I need to speak with her, please? I love her too much to lose her.” you swallowed more tears threatening to escape.

“Sure, buddy. You wanna tell me what happened?” Bucky feigned cluelessness.

“Maybe later Buck. I have to call the rest of our friends.”

“Alright, but don’t do anything stupid.” Bucky said and Steve hung up.

“You heard him, didn’t you?” he asked you.

“Hmm.” you confirmed.

After you had drank your tea he left you the bed and slept on the couch. When you snuggled into the covers they smelled so delicously like Bucky. A mix of soap, coffee and something uniquely Bucky. For one split moment you had thought about asking him to sleep next to you but that would have probably sent mixed signals and you didn’t know what you wanted at the moment.

You woke up feeling cold. Shivering slightly you opened your eyes and noticed that the blanket had fallen off your body onto the floor. Sitting up you rubbed the sleep out of your eyes and the realization of what had happened struck you a moment later.

“Chin up! You are a queen! Don’t let that idiot make you cry again. He’s not worth it!” you told yourself and got up to get some food.

“Good morning, Bucky.” you greeted him while he was standing at the stove making scrambled eggs and bacon.

“Good morning to you too. How did you sleep? And do you want some breakfast?” he asked cheerily.

“I slept like a baby and hell yes I’m so hungry.” confirming his suspicions.

Bucky and you ate together in comfortable silence. Until he spoke up: “So Y/N you know you can stay here however long you like and I don’t mind kicking Stevies ass for what he’s done to you but you should at least tell him that you are with me. I can’t lie to him forever.” he really had a point.

“I know. Thanks again for taking in a stray in the middle of the night. And I know I will have to talk to him eventually. He hurt me so bad but I’m more afraid I will give in again when I see his puppy dog eyes although I can’t trust him anymore.” you looked so lost. Bucky wanted to wrap you up in a blanket and never let you go again.

That week you called in sick. You couldn’t stand the people at work.

And when you came back on monday, guess who was standing outside our office building with a exagerrated flower buquet.

“I’m sorry babe. I shouldn’t have done that to you. You are the best thing that has happened to me. Please don’t leave me.” he begged. You had to admit seeing Captain America beg was a sight for sore eyes.

“Hello Steve. You are correct you shouldn’t have cheated on me and I am deeply disappointed in you. Thank you for apologizing but I won’t come back to you. You have broken my trust and I can’t just give it back to you. I will be over in the next few weeks to get the rest of my stuff out of your apartment and leave my keys. Now I have to go work. Bye Steve. Oh, by the way, you will have to call all our friends and family that the wedding is off. I’m not doing that.” and with those words you turned away from him and clapped yourself menatlly on the shoulder at how confident and sovereign you had handelt that situation.

If you had thought the deal was over there you had definitely celebrated to early.

Of course Steve found out you had been staying with Bucky all along and was mad as hell.

He suddeny stood inside the apartment, however he got in there, and started throwing insults at Bucky and especially you.

“Here you are you little slut! Have already replaced me, hm. How long has this been going on? You preach something of trust and here you are fucking my best friend behind my back! I should have known.” he raged.

“Calm down you idiot. There is nothing going on between Buck and me. He has just been a friend when I was hurt needed one.” you yelled back enraged at the accusations.

“Who do you wanna tell that, Y/N. Do you think I haven’t seen the way you two look at each other?” he was still so angry. You had nevern seen him this full of rage.

“So what it is none of your business anymore anyways.” you knew you couldn’t bring him to believe you anyway. He needed to find a different cause of why you wouldn’t come back to him than the simple reason that he had cheated. He wanted to blame you, not himself.

“Could you please leave now? I don’t feel so good.” you suddenly felt your lunch coming back up to greet you and ran to the bathroom.

The men heard you puking. One knowing the reason the other not.

“What’s going on with her? She sick?” Steve asked Bucky.

That was your clue to burst through the bathroom door.

“I’m pregnat you ass! You cheated on your pregnant fiance!” you yelled and stormed into Bucky’S bedroom, jamming the door shut behind you.

Steve looked aghast at Bucky “did you know?”

“She told me the night she came to me. She had wanted to tell you then. That’s why she didn’t go out with her collegues.”

“Fuck! I destroyed everything, haven’t I?” he asked Bucky in defeat.

“Give her time. She probably won’t want to marry you, maybe not even be your girlfriend again but maybe she will at least let you see your kid.” Bucky stated matter of factly.

“But I wan’t more Bucky. I want her.” he whined.

“Well, you had everything, pal. But you destroyed it. I better go talk to her. You should really leave her alone for a while.” he clapped Steve on the shoulder, maybe a bit harder than necessary and went after you.

“Y/N? He’s gone.” Bucky carefully stuck his head into the room. You were lying on the bed, on your back staring at the ceiling.

“Good.” you muttered. “I couldn’t stand him anymore. I’m afraid Bucky.” you confessed. “I can’t raise a baby on my own and I don’t know if I want Steve involved.”

“I can understand your worry but I don’t see any reason. You are so caring and selfless you will be a great mom. And if you let me I can help you. Kids seem to like me apparently.” he encouraged you and smiled.

“Thank you, Buck. I definitely will need your help. I am going to be a single mom and that’s completely okay.” you smiled at him.

“That’s what I wanna hear. Now, you hungry after everything just came out?”

“Yes. I’d like Pizza please.”

“Alright, princess I will order some.” he stroked your cheek and got up to get the delivery running.

“So he actually cheated on you? I would have never expected that from Steve. He always seems like a gentleman. Unbelievable.” Wanda exclaimed.

“Yeah. Absolutely insane. But congrats on the pregnancy though. You will be a rockin’ mama.” Nat hugged you. “And we will help you with whatever you need.”

“Thanks, girls. You are amazing. You know I want you to be godmothers, right?” you asked.

“Hell yes. We’re in.” Nat squealed and you never heard her squeal.

Weeks ticked by and you really searched for an affordable apartment somewhere close to your workplace. That was harder than you anticipated though.

After 3 months of moving in with Bucky you had still no place of your own and you constantly thought you were overstaying your welcome.

“How are you two doing today?” Bucky asked you as he came home.

“We are fine. Had a lot to eat and listened to some music. By the way my OB was able to find out what we are having. You wanna know?” over the past months Bucky had become more a father to the baby than Steve had been. Steve rarely called or wanted to now anything about you or his baby. Bucky seemed more than content to take up the role of its father.

“Hell yes I wanna know. Tell me!” he ordered exited.

“Alright, drumroll…. It’s a…. girl.” you announced.

“Oh, wow. Great. A mini you not a mini Steve.” he laughed and you had to laugh too.

“Buck?” you asked suddenly.

“Hm?”

“I want you to be in this girls life. As more than just her mommys friend. More as a rolemodel. A…” you stopped to think about your next words carfully. “More like a dad.” and out it was. Now you only had to wait for his reaction.

“You want me to be her father? Hmm. On the one hand I would love to. I feel so close to her already but on the other hand I don’t want to affront Steve. Even after everything he is my friend. Can we talk about what there is between us first? Maybe if we have that settled all will slip in place.” he suggested.

“Maybe you are right. What is there between us in your opinion?”

“Look Y/N, I have always felt a connection between us. Although I would have never acted on it because you were Steve’s girl, it hurt everytime I saw you with him. And when you got engaged I seriously considered moving abroad so I wouldn’t have to see you building a life with him. If I could imagine myself as the man by your and your daughters side? Of course. There is nowhere I’d rather be. And we are practically living together already anyway.” his confession only superficially shocked you. You knew there had always been feelings from your side too. That’s why it had been so easy to confide in him. He took your silence as hesitation and became insecure “I mean if you don’t feel that way I will accept that. I swear I can be just a frien….” he wasn’t able to say more because you had already stopped his rambling with a bruising kiss.

“So you do feel it!” he observed.

“Of course I do you dummy. You have always been there for me. I’m sorry it took me so long to realize it was actually you who I should be with.” you apologized.

“The most important thing is that we have that figured out now.” he kissed you again and you melted into it.

“Yes, we do.” you smiled.

Another few months flew by and you had started to stay at home because you were constantly feeling dizzy or nauteous when you moved.

“Bucky come here. Now!” you yelled for your boyfriend one snowy december morning. Alarmed he stormed into the livingroon where you were parked in front of a movie with a cup of hot chocolate and a really big blanket over one of Bucky’s hoodies.

“What’s wrong? You okay?” panicked he jumped onto the couch next to you. “No nothing is wrong. Here- Give me your hand.” he gave you his right hand and you pressed it to the place on your belly were you had just felt her kick. When she did it again he almost jumped out of his skin. “Woah, what was that? Was that a kick?” he asked astonished.

“Of course Buck. What else was it supposed to be?” you laughed.

“She is strong. Damn so cool.”

“And she keeps kicking even more when she hears your voice. Maybe she likes it if you sang to her.” you smiled expectantly.

“Oh, no. No one wants to hear me sing. I have a terrible voice.” he refused.

“Steve told me differently. He said you were in church choir together as boys.” your smirked at him.

“He told you that.” he sighed.

“Oh, yes he did. So come on. Sing something for our daughter.”

“Our daughter?” he asked, you realized what you had said and blushed.

“I like the sound of that.” he grinned from ear to ear and that was the moment you were 100% sure that he was it for you.

“I love you so much.” he whispered and kissed first your protruding belly and then your mouth.

You were speechless. “I love you too Bucky.” you replied.

Your daughter grew everyday. Everytime you went to an ultrasound at your OB Bucky was by your side and although the doctor knew he wasn’t the babys biological dad she said that he was doing so much better than most fathers to be. He took so much pride in your baby girl that you almost burst with love for him.

After 9 months of carrying her it was finally time to let go. When the contractions started Bucky rushed you to a hospital and although he didn’t want to he called Steve. And Nat and Wanda of course.

The doctor and midwife did their exam of you and the baby quickly before figuring out that something was wrong.

“She is lying sideways. We can’t deliver her naturally. We need to get her by c-section or you will both die.” the OB made clear. You knew things like that could happen. You had mentally prepared for anything but now that it actually came to that you were more than afraid.

“Wo should stay with you? Only one person can.” the doctor informed you.

Steve, who had just entered the room and had heard everything of course assumed immediately that he was gonna be invited into the OR with you.

“I want Bucky to stay with me.” you whined. Steve got pretty angry and almost ripped the door off its hinges when he left. “Bucky I’m afraid.” you whispered to him. Uncaring of Steves abrupt departure.

“I will stay with you, doll. Through everything. You two will get through this.” he encouraged you.

“Thanks Buck. Let’s get this baby into the world.” you said.

“Good attitude.” the doctor approved.

They rushed you into the OR. Bucky never leaving you and holding your hand the whole time. During the procedure itself you were awake but you got a spinal anesthesia to numb everthing from your belly downwards.

“I will keep a pretty ugly scar Buck. Don’t you mind that?” you asked him a little drunk on meds.

“No sweetheart. I love you so much I don’t care about scars. You don’t care about mine either, do you? Scars are just proof of what you have gone through and survived. That’s what you always used to say. Isn’t it?” he quoted you.

“Yes maybe.”

“Plus it will always remind of our beautiful daughter. That’ll be worth it, don’t you think?” he asked.

“Yes, sure. I love you Buck.”

“I love you too and you are doing so great. Isn’t she doc?” he asked the OB.

“Oh, she’s doing great. Everything is perfect.” she answered but by the nervous facial expression she had on her face and the rushing nurses surrounding her Bucky knew that something was wrong.

Suddenly a baby cried. Relief flooded through Bucky. “Look there she is.” he pointed to your right and you rolled your head over and smiled. Then you passed out.

“Y/N? Y/N!!!” Bucky yelled. “What happened?” he asked the doc full of panic.

“She lost a lot of blood but we are giving her donations now. Go see your daughter and we will do everything we can to save her.” she explained to him. But Bucky would not be Bucky if he left your side.

They sewed you up and 3 hours later you awoke in a brightly lit room. Beeping machines by your head. You looked around, complketely confused until you saw the cutes thing you had ever laid eyes on. Your angel of a boyfriend was sitting next to your bed in an armchair, holding your baby daughter to his chest and singing softly to her.

You started weeping immediately. Still high on drugs and hormones.

“Baby what’s wrong? Are you in pain?” he asked worried.

“No, I am just so happy. You two really are a sight for sore eyes. I can’t contain the love in my heart.” you kept crying happy tears.

“Would you give me our baby?” you asked politely.

“Oh, of course honey.” he got up and placed the blanket wrapped burrito into your arms. When you saw her crystal blue eyes and slightly dirty blonde hair you had to hold back new tears.

“What should we call her?” Bucky asked you.

“I always loved Autumn as a girls name or maybe Freya. What do you like better?”

“I love them both. Double name? Or keep one for the next baby?” he suggested.

“You are already thinking about a second child?” you laughed. “Give me a bit of time to recover and then I would love to have another one with you.”

“Sure so Autumn or Freya?” he asked again.

“Let’s go with Freya. It’s such a unique name. And strong as hell. I think it suits her.” you chose.

“Great. I love it. And I love both of you.”

“Has anyone been in here yet?” you asked him.

“Not yet. I wanted you to see your daughter first before the others came barging in. Steve nearly broke down the door when I refused him to come inside. I handled him and security told him if he didn’t calm down he needed to leave and he wouldn’t be allowed back inside.” he broke down the events of the past few hours for you.

“That sounds so not like the Steve I know but seems like that is who he became. I think if you hand me a glass of water for my parched throat first you can let the others inside.” you instructed him.

After downing the entire bottle of liquid the whole party came trampling into the room. Steve pushed the rest rudely out of the way. But instead of asking how you were doing after losing so much blood he just grabbed your daughter out of your hands to look at her. It didn’t take 3 seconds before the infant was crying like crazy. Steve startled and immediately handed her back to you. “Why is she always crying? She’s definitely yours.” he commented. Bucky gotreally angry at that comment while you tried to calm your baby.

“I think you should go, pal. You are irritating her with your attitude.” Bucky suggested nicely.

“Who do you think you are? You are not her father. I am.” he turned beet red.

You finally had enough. Handing Freya over to Nat who took a step back, you sat up a little and faced Steve. “In the past 9 months Bucky has been more a father to her than you could ever be. He was there when I hung puking over the toilet bowl. He brought me the strangest snacks without asking twice about it. He always had the nicest words to say to me no matter how depressed I felt. And where the fucking hell were you that whole time?” you asked him angrily.

That made him stop still. “You left me!” he tried to defend himself weakly.

“GET OUT!” you yelled at him.

He obeyed because he knew he couldn’t say anything to make the situation better.

“Wow, that was intense.” Wanda commented.

“He needed to hear that.” you said.

“Yes, he did. And now to you and your daughter. She is adorable. What’s her name?” Nat changed the topic.

“Thank you Nat. Her name is Freya. I have always loved that name.” you answered.

“That’s a beautiful, strong name. Fitting!” Wanda commented.

“So when will you be able to get out of here?” Nat asked, still holding your baby.

“I don’t know. Haven’t spoken to a doctor yet.”

As if on cue the door opened and your OB entered.

She told you that everything was healing and that you needed to stay for another day and then you and your baby could go home.

Three weeks later you had already accustomed Freya to her crib. You went on walks everyday. Bucky always by your side. Protecting you both like a wolf protects his pack.

Six months ticked by like nothing. Suddenly Freya was already playing with her mobile which was hanging over her bed. She was very attentive. Crawling all over the apartment fast enough that you almost couldn’t catch up.

It was fulfilling to be a mom but also tiring. You needed a day off so as the nice godmothers that your friends were they took her from you for 24 hours. At first you slept in. You would have happily stayed in bed all day but Bucky had other plans.

So you took a shower and put on a nice dress but you forwent the high heels cause you still had swollen feet sometimes and couldn’t walk in them anyways.

“Where are we going Buck?” you smiled.

“You will see, doll.” was his cryptic answer.

He drove out of town until you reached the hills. Parking the car somewhere in the middle of nowhere you got out of the car and he pulled a picnic basket out of the trunk.

“A picnic? That’s so sweet.” you swooned.

“I thought that would be nice.” He seemed somehow really nervous.

When you had found a clearing he put everything down and you two sat and ate. Sandwiches, fruit, cheese, crackers, chocolate covered strawberries. Everything was so delicious. “Thank you for this Bucky. It’s the best date I have ever had.” you complimented.

“It is wonderful. And I would like to ask you something.” he turned so he was kneeling in front of you and pulled a box out of his jacket pocket. You clapped your hand in front of your mouth and tears sprang to your eyes.

“Y/N I have loved you for so long. We have a great life together, a wonderful daughter. I would like this to hold forever. Will you marry me?” he asked.

You threw yourself into his arms and he crumbled underneath you “YES! Of course I will marry you Bucky. I love you so much!” you confirmed.

He put the ring onto your finger and you kissed deeply. The kiss turned heated quickly. You, still lying on top of him, wriggled your hips. He turned you on so much you wanted him right that moment.

“Woa, hold on doll. You sure you want to do this here?” he mumbled against your lips.

“Don’t wanna wait any more. Waited too long.” you mumbled back.

His hands immediately went to the zipper on your back and pulled it down. You sat up so you could wriggle your arms free and pulled the dress over your head, leaving you in your panties and bra. “So beautiful.” he groaned and buried his face in your boobs, nipping and sucking hickies only he would be able to see later.

All the while you frantically ripped at his clothes, pushing the jacket off his shoulders and unbuttoning his shirt. Then you roamed your hands over his muscular chest intensely. Grinding down on his growing erection got you so wet. You hadn’t gotten any action in over a year and you knew he hadn’t either so this was likely going to be over way too soon. You had to savor any moment that it would last.

With his help you got him out of his jeans and you saw that he was not wearing any underwear. “Naughty boy. No underwear?” you commented, smirking.

“More comfy that way. Why don’t you make it even more comfortable and sit on my dick, doll?”

“With pleasure.” you moaned and sank down on his massive cock. “Fuck!” you groaned at the slight discomfort. You felt like an inexperienced virgin again. “Shit. Don’t stop.” he moaned lustfully.

You rocked your hips sensually and he met you with every thrust.

He hit all the amazing spots deep inside you and you felt your high approaching way too fast. “‘m so close, baby.” you moaned with your eyes closed. Just lost in the pleasure of every stroke inside you.

“Me too. Wanna come together. Open your eyes, darling.” he panted.

So you did as he had asked and when your eyes met his baby blues you lost it and came all over him. That in turn triggered his orgasm and he spilled inside you.

Breathing heavily you slid off of him and cuddled into his side while he pulled a blanket over you.

“That was so great.” he said.

“Hmm, and you know what? I’m still not on birth control again. Maybe… we’ll soon have a mini you running around.” you smirked.

“I would like that very much. Life is always better with a sibling.” he kissed your head.

Well and what can I say- 9 months later you gave birth to a healthy, dark haired baby boy which you named Ben. Your family became the most important thing in the world. You didn’t even want to think about a scenario where you hadn’t found out that Steve cheated on you. You were the happiest when you were with Bucky. That’s where you belonged.

#marvel #buckyxreader #steve x reader #fanfic #smut #fluff #angst #multiplefandomfics #pregnancy #notbetad

86 notes · View notes

rocksandrobots · 2 years

Text

Phantoms of the Past Chapter 15 - Reunions and Relatives Part 3

Aunt Cass yawned and stretched as she walked into the kitchen. Only to jump when she found Tadashi there, already eating a bowl of oatmeal.

"Morning, Aunt Cass." he said with his mouth full, same as he always had; as if he had never left.

Cass stood there in shock for a moment before yesterday's events came rushing back to her.

"Oh, g-good morning!" She said as a grin slowly spread across her face. "Already on breakfast I see... Do you want some coffee to go with it?"

"Sure."

She started to brew some coffee, humming a little tune as she did so. She still couldn't believe her good fortune. This should have all been impossible, but her boys had always been ones to defy the impossible.... all three of them.

"Do you want cream in yours?" She asked.

"No, just sugar.... You know, it's almost seven... aren't you going to open up the cafe?"

"No... not today I think... I'm going to run a lot of errands and make some phone calls." She sat the cup of coffee down and in front of him and then took a sip from her own cup.

"You mean errands as in letting people know I'm not dead?" Tadashi asked while giving her a sad smile.

Aunt Cass returned it with a pained smile of her own. "It's just ah... a lot to deal with... " she sighed. "But it is sooo worth it."

Aunt and nephew shared a quiet moment of understanding, before Cass sat her coffee cup down, sprung up from the table, and gave Tadashi a big hug. "Ooooh, I'm the luckiest woman in the world! Now I have all of my children home safe and sound."

Tadashi returned the hug, but then gave an awkward laugh, "Yeah,... um... all of us kids huh?... Including Vari- Vari... Varitas?"

"Varian." Aunt Cass helpfully corrected. "I know... It must be... a little weird... to come home and find a new family member just suddenly living in your home."

"You think?"

Aunt Cass sighed. "We're all still adjusting. Including Varian himself.... he's... well, he's been through a lot. Just give him a chance. Get to know him... You might find out that the two of you have a lot in common."

"Like what?"

"Weeelll... you both like science!"

Tadashi raised an eyebrow at her.

"Aaaand I love you both very much. So will you please try... for me?"

Tadashi shrugged. "I'd love to get to know him. But anytime I try to talk to him he tries to avoid me.. as in literally he runs away. "

"Oh, well, maybe he's just shy?" Aunt Cass suggested.

"Since when is Varian ever shy?" Hiro quipped as he and Baymax walked into the kitchen.

Aunt Cass gave him a warning look. He avoided eye contact as he dug out the milk from the fridge.

"Listen, I know things are crazy right now, but all we need is a little patience and understanding with one another and we can get through this together as a family..."

As soon as she finished these words an explosion erupted from the laundry room and soap suds gushed out into the hallway.

All four ran out of the kitchen to find Varian and his pet raccoon fighting back a wave detergent and dirty laundry.

"Varian!?"

Aunt Cass was livid, but before she could say anything further Tadashi leaned in close to her ear and chuckled, "Patience and understanding Aunt Cass. Remember?"

She threw him an annoyed look, before joining in the battle against the increasing foam.

---------------------

Cass pouted as she looked at her kids, all standing in a row in the hallway. Each looking at her with wide eyes, still all in their pajamas, covered in soap bubbles, and waiting to see how she would respond to this latest disaster.

The washing machine had finally stopped and they had managed to clean up most of the suds. Though Aunt Cass herself, had a bleach stain on her nightgown from the bottle falling and busting open on the ground in the commotion.

"Soooo what happened this time?" She asked.

Tadashi and Hiro gave Varian a look and shuffled farther away, as if to excuse themselves of this latest mishap.

Varian looked down at his toes, his cheeks burning red in embarrassment. "I… I was trying to put the washing machine back together." He mumbled.

"And why was the washing machine in need of such repairs?" She pressed, though she already suspected the answer.

"Because I took it apart." He admitted with a sigh.

"Why?" Tadashi asked, utterly confused.

"You were trying to do one of your vlogs again weren't you?" Hiro accused.

"Vlogs?" Tadashi echoed. "What vlogs?"

"I-I started this online show… about how home appliances work." Varian explained.

Tadashi nodded his head thoughtfully at that explanation. It didn't sound like a bad idea for a blog series, but before he could offer up his approval Aunt Cass spoke again.

"And ever since you've started it, not a single appliance has worked in our home." She chided. "The alarm clock, the toaster, the dishwasher, the microwave, and now this! What's next? The oven !?"

Varian shuffled his feet awkwardly at her accusation.

"Oh, please tell me, you didn't touch my stove." Aunt Cass begged.

"It wasn't getting hot enough, fast enough." He barely whispered.

Aunt Cass closed her eyes tightly and then let out a slow breath to calm herself. "Ok, well it looks like I have to add 'calling an repairman' on my to-do list today." She said tightly before making her way to her bedroom. "I'm going to get dressed and head out for the day. I need you three to not make any more explosions, or fires, or rifts in time, until I get back. And Varian… no more vlogs."

Varian cast his eyes downward. "Yes, Aunt Cass."

---------------------

Tadashi sat at the computer looking out of the window. From his desk he could see the deck below that served as their 'backyard'. There they kept the tool shed, table and chairs for outdoor eating, and a few potted plants. Right now, Varian was out there trying to fix the washer. Since Hiro usually worked in the garage, the other teen had taken to doing his projects out there. Especially since he preferred working with hand tools over computers.

"So, what's his deal?" Tadashi wondered out loud.

"Who's deal? Varian's?" Hiro asked as he fiddled around with Baymax's charging box. He wanted to make it 'more efficient' so that it would 'charge faster' according to him.

"Yeah... I mean, I get that he's from another world, and that he's a super genius who apparently invented both time and inter-dimensional travel, and I understand that Aunt Cass is taking care of him until he can return to his own world (even though she doesn't even realize he's from another dimension, for some reason)... I got all that... but, like what else is up? 'Cause something is up. What does 'he's been through a lot' even mean?"

Hiro paused in his work and looked up at him with wide eyes. "It… it's a long story... and I don't even know all of it. In fact no one does but Varian, and he has trouble talking about it." He sighed. "From what I know, his dad was seriously injured when he was just fourteen, and instead of receiving help, he had to go on the run from the law. Apparently, his world is caught up in some sort of civil war, and he was part of some rebel group trying to overthrow the king."

"Then why does he want to go back?" Tadashi asked.

"He's dad is still there... if he's even alive that is..." Hiro shrugged. "You might be better off just asking him all this instead."

Tadashi thought it over. He knew Hiro was right, but he wasn't sure how best to go about it without pushing the other boy away even farther. Finally he let out a defeated sigh; there was no use in just sitting here thinking about it. Tadashi just needed to take the plunge and break the ice.

He got up and walked down to the deck.

---------------------

Varain was in the middle of loosening the spanner nut on the washer's tub when he heard a voice call out to him.

"You know, you could check the brake pads on the clutch. That might have been why the washer had trouble stopping" Tadashi helpfully offered.

Varian poked his head up from inside the tub to look at the other teen. "I know how a clutch and transmission works, thanks." He said defensively.

Tadashi paused and frowned. He hadn't meant to offend and was surprised by the hostility in the other kid's voice.

"Besides," Varian continued. "How can I check either if I can't even get the outer tub off?"

He ruefully kicked the washer.

"Hmmm..." Tadashi bent down to look at the stuck bolt. "Maybe some grease will loosen it up. We should have some in the tool shed."

He walked over the little shed on the deck and dug around until he found the can of grease. "Ha! There is it!" Smiling with triumph he handed the can to Varian.

The boy took it sheepishly, suddenly embarrassed at his former outburst. He mumbled 'thank you' and set to work trying to loosen the nut once more.

Tadashi joined him, holding the tub down so that it wouldn't spin while Varian twisted the wrench, trying his best not to get in the way of the boy's work.

Finally, with one really strong tug the bolt popped loose and Varian fell back on his rear end with the sudden lack of resistance. The nut flew off and hit one of the potted plants, shattering it, before falling to the alley below.

Both boys looked at each other awkwardly, before bursting out laughing.

"You..you really can't go five minutes without breaking something can you?" Tadashi wheezed.

Varian blushed at that, but he still continued to chuckle anyways, "Well, we can't all be Mr. Perfect." he said, good naturally.

"Mr. Perfect?" Tadashi echoed, but was interrupted by Varian whistling loudly.

Soon his pet raccoon popped it's head over the balcony railing of the deck.

"Hey Ruddiger, can you bring back up the part that fell down please?"

Ruddiger scurried back down to the alley; as if he really understood what the teenager had requested.

Tadashi tilted his head in confusion. "Are animals just super smart in your world or something?"

Varian shrugged. "I've never really noticed before if they are or aren't. I mean it's not like they can talk like people to tell us." Then he covered the side of his mouth with one hand and leaned closer to whisper. ", though I have noticed that Mochi is a few apples short of a bushel, if you know what I mean," He snorted before asking, "uh, b-but don't tell him I said that."

"Your secret is safe with me." Tadashi said deadpan.

Soon Ruddiger returned with the nut in his mouth and dutifully handed it over to Varian; who got back to work on fixing the machine.

"Sooo, how else is your world different?" Tadashi nonchalantly asked as he took a seat beside the other teen. "I mean, what's it like? I've never seen another world before. It must be pretty cool."

"I guess." Varian shurged. "San Fansokyo is a lot 'cooler' than Corona that's for sure."

Tadashi laughed, though not unkindly, "Yeah but that's only because it's all new to you. Come on, there's got to be something that you miss from home."

"Well... there is one thing..." Varian admitted.

"Yeah, what's that?"

"I miss beer." Varian sighed.

Tadashi blinked. "Beer?"

"Yeah... Y'all have it, but you won't let anyone under 21 drink it... which is beyond weird. And it's just America. No other country does it. What's up with that? "

Tadashi had to admit he had never considered the difference before. "I guess it's 'cause we have more cars in the US?"

"Yeah, but you already have laws against drunk driving regardless of age, so what's the point of the other law?"

Tadashi scratched the back of his head in thought trying to come up with an answer. He was sure there was a practical reason, but he just couldn't think of one on the spot. Not that Varian gave him time to.

"Anyways, it's not like it matters. I promised Aunt Cass I wouldn't sneak out to go drinking anymore."

Tadashi blinked again; clearly he had missed out a lot this past year. He didn't press the issue however and opted to change the subject instead.

"Still there's gotta be something else, something that we don't have at all in this world."

Varian pouted and looked thoughtful as he wiped the grease off his hands. "Magic.... but I don't miss that at all."

"Magic?" Tadashi asked skeptically.

Varian nodded.

"As in wizards with magic wands and dragons.... or do you mean street magicians; like illusionists?"

Varian shook his head. "No. I mean as in natural occurring phenomenon that can not be explained by science and defies all known laws of physics and chemistry."

Tadashi tilted his head. "Like what, for instance?"

"Like a woman with seventy feet of uncuttable hair that heals people when it glows, for instance."

Tadashi laughed. "You're pulling my leg."

"I've seen it." Varian insisted.

Tadashi was taken aback. Real or not, it was something that Varian clearly believed in. "B-but you're a scientist, like myself, surely 'magic' is just an undiscovered scientific phenomenon that could be explained with more study. I mean you wouldn't call your work on the portal magic, would you?"

Varian pursed his lips tightly. "It's... not that simple. I've studied magic using the scientific method for years now and it just does not respond in the way that it should. It can't be controlled. It follows its own rules."

Now Tadashi was even more confused. "So is 'magic' common in your world? Is it it's own field of study? Like does your dimension just run on different physics?"

"Sort of..." Varian slowly explained. "It's not super common. Most people can go their whole lives never experiencing it, and it's not something that is recognized by the wider scientific community. I, myself, didn't believe it until I met Rapun-- the princess. S-she's the girl with the glowing hair."

"Princess? And you think she can do magic?"

"No, I think she is magic. She has magical energy coursing through her whole body; it manifests in her hair, her tears, her blood... she was born with it. Some people can make potions or wave a wand and call it magic... but they're just manipulating the energy that's already there."

"Manipulate... you mean it's some sort of untapped energy... like electricity or.. what?" Tadashi asked, his curiosity getting the better of him now.

Varian sighed as he tried to find a way to explain the differences... "Not unless you can control electricity by reciting a spell. I'm telling you, it's nothing like what you know. Magic works by its own rules, its own physics, and no one knows for sure what those rules are. It's all just guesswork! It doesn't matter what you do, magic is always unpredictable. That's why it's not a science."

Varian was getting visibly irritated by the direction of the conversation, but Tadashi was too confused and too intrigued to let the matter go.

"So besides making hair glow what does magic do, exactly?"

"Everything… Anything?" Varian shrugged. "It depends on what is conducting the energy. What is its physical and chemical makeup? How are you manipulating it? Are you making a magic potion to alter the chemistry of the brain, reciting a spell in order to activate a magical object, or using another object, like a wand, as a conduit to focus the energy? For example, you can use the healing power of the Sundrop by singing an incantation. Why this works, I don't know, but it does. For some reason there's this one particular song that is supposed to unlock that object's particular energy. As for the portal, it runs on electricity, sure, but it's built to seek out matching energy signatures… that's why we used your hat as a focusing device. It was looking for your unique quantum signature in that particular moment in time."

"Sooo it can detect magic…?"

Varian nodded,"Or any other energy signature on the spectrum reading."

"Then could what you're describing be some sort of.. radiation? Maybe even a unique radiation that's only found in your dimension?" Tadashi suggested.

Varian thought for a moment, as if this was a new idea to him. "Can radiation be controlled by music?"

"Not that I know of." Tadashi admitted. "But then again, it's possible, I guess. Especially given that this is another world we're talking about. You said that you've been studying it, what have you found?"

Varian sighed again, "Only that magic attracts magic, and that's it's dangerous."

"Dangerous? I thought you said that that one girl could heal people?"

"That's just the Sundrop's powers. Other magical objects are far more deadly."

Varian looked at him darkly, as if remembering something painful. That's when Tadashi remembered Hiro's words from earlier, about Varian living through a war. What had this poor kid seen?

"Like what? What is there besides glowing hair and magic wands?" Tadashi pressed.

Varian tightened his lips together, unwilling to talk further on the matter. However, Tadashi was in too deep now to give up.

"Come on, if you're planning on experimenting with the portal further and insisting on going back there, then I think we deserve to know what we're getting into. What else could come through that portal besides you and me?"

Varian looked taken aback. "No… no the rocks couldn't appear here… could they?"

His voice shook, barely above a whisper, and for a moment he appeared very small and very frightened.

"The rocks?" Tadashi questioned.

"The black rocks." Varian answered, as if this cleared everything up.

"Ooookay, and what are 'the black rocks'?"

Varian blinked back tears, "They… they're what destroyed my home."

Tadashi paused and his stomach dropped. Both boys looked at each other questioningly, each waiting on the other to break the uncomfortable silence that fell between them.

Maybe he should let the matter go. Tadashi, thought. It was too ridiculous a story to believe, anyways. Though in his heart he knew that Varian was speaking the truth, at least as he saw it.

"They just showed up one day." Varian said, breaking the silence. He was looking past Tadashi as if relieving whatever trauma he had gone through. "They sprung up out of the ground. Huge pointy black spikes, some no taller than a foot or two, some so massive they broke through the castle tower, right next to my bedroom. They destroyed the fields, the wells and irrigation systems, people's homes were demolished, and you never knew when more would erupt. They could skewer a person on the spot if you weren't careful."

Tadashi eyes went wide in terror. What Varian described sounded like a natural disaster, only it was one that he had no frame of reference for. It wasn't like a storm or an earthquake that would just happen and be over with. This sounded like it was ongoing.

"Wha- what did you do?"

Varian's lip curled into a sneer. "The king 'evacuated' everyone. More like he quietly dumped them onto the other poor villages nearby while he ignored the problem. And it was his mess to begin with !" Varian shouted.

Tadashi blinked and took a step back as Varian started ranting.

"He's the one who stole the Sundrop! Dad warned him not to, but he didn't listen! That was the only thing protecting us from the rocks. Magic seeks out other magic. It came looking for the precious flower that he horded away! And I tried to tell people; I tried to point out what was happening. I begged for help. Only to be made a criminal for it!"

"A criminal?"

"He charged me with treason because I was the only one left who knew his secret. He not only failed to warn people of the danger nor do anything to help those who were hurt by his actions, but he tried to shift the blame onto me when he got caught!"

Varian tossed the wrench he was holding in anger. It went flying over the rail and down into the alley below. Ruddiger took after it for him, like a dog playing fetch, as the furious teen huffed and squeezed his eyes tightly to stop the tears.

…. "Then what did you do?" Tadashi asked, against his better judgement.

"I fought back!" Varian spat, as he whirled around to face him.

Tadashi looked down at the five and half foot tall teenager with wide eyes. It was unnerving to see someone filled with that much rage; and even more unsettling to know that despite being younger than you they had probably seen more horrors then could ever know.

"So, you and the rest of the villagers fought a war?"

Varian stiffened for a moment, as if Tadashi had hit upon a sore topic, before answering cryptically, "The crown has many enemies."

"Uh-uhhh… okay then, well this has certainly been an… enlightening experience. I must say, but that still doesn't explain why you want to go back there."

"I need to save my dad. No else will help him." Varian sobbed.

"Yeah, Hiro told me that he was still in your world. Was he fighting in this war, too?"

Varian bowed his head, "No… H-he was injured by the rocks."

He looked up again when he felt Tadashi lay a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"Hey, I'm sorry, man. I know what it's like to lose a parent."

Their eyes locked and suddenly both teens found a connection. They had a shared pain that a relative few, which was still far too many in this world, understood.

Varian sniffled as he tried to fight back his tears. "Sorry, I dumped all that on you. Y-you only just got back. You must be dealing with a lot right now yourself."

Tadashi shrugged. "Eh, yeah… but I'm still alive so I can't complain too much. And apparently I owe all to you, so rant away. I'm all ears."

He sat back down and gave Varian a disarming smile.

Varian returned it shyly, not used to people offering to listen… who wasn't a therapist that is.

"I don't want to drag up bad memories." He was dismissed. "It's… just something that has been on my mind lately."

"Well what else is on your mind?"

Varian shrugged as didn't know what to say. Tadashi decided to change the subject.

"Well I have a question… What's going on with you and Honey Lemon?"

Varian sighed and placed his hands on his hips. "I don't know. I really like her, and I think she likes me too… at least as a friend, but every time I try to ask her out or tell her my feelings something always goes wrong."

"Oh, been there, done that." Tadashi confided with a small laugh. "I only just got up the nerve to ask Gogo out a few days ago… only to die and ruin all of my carefully constructed plans."

Varian chuckled along with him. "Well you don't have to worry. I know for a fact Gogo is still crazy about you."

"Oooh crazy about me huh? I'll keep that in mind when we have our first date next week." Tadashi grinned ear to ear at that. "But it's alright, even if it doesn't work out we'll still be friends, and there are plenty of other fish in the sea as the saying goes. I'm sure you'll have plenty of chances to date other people yourself, if it turns out that Honey Lemon doesn't feel the same way."

Varian pouted at that… "I guess… It's not like I have a lot of experience with dating, so I wouldn't know. It's hard to meet people when you've been in jail for a year."

His voice sounded nonchalant, but Tadashi picked up on the darker implications anyways.

"Jail?"

"Oh… uh… The king threw me in the dungeon after… well after I had lost a battle. I had only just escaped right before I came here."

"A dungeon !?" Tadashi echoed.

Varian meekly nodded.

"As in a dark, dank stone room, buried under the ground, where they feed people gruel?"

"Uh… yeah, you pretty much describe what it was like… the only thing you're missing is the smell…. There are no words to describe how bad the smell is."

Tadashi's mouth hung open and if it was even possible his eyes got even wider. "And he did this to you after you survived having to fight people on a battlefield !?"

Varian looked taken aback at that "Ummm….yesss?"

Tadashi paused and blinked, and for a second Varian didn't know what would come next, more prying questions or akward sympathies. Turns out it was neither.

Tadashi abruptly stood up and grabbed Varian by the knees, before hauling the poor teenager over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

"Hey! Wait! Put me down!" Varian demanded, but Tadashi ignored him.

Ruddiger returned with the wrench just in time to see Tadashi carry Varian into the house.

---------------------

Hiro was busy writing equations in his notebook while sitting in his bed when Tadashi burst into the room carrying a struggling Varian in his arms.

"Hiro! Go get your helmet. We're taking our new brother to Tree Hill!" He grinned.

"What is Tree Hill? Where are we going!?" Varian called out, still utterly confused by Tadashi's behavior.

Hiro however knew exactly what Tadashi had planned and his own mouth broke into a mischievous grin as he climbed out of bed and put on his shoes.

---------------------

"What are we doing here?" Varian asked as he trudged up the steep hill.

Hiro and Tadashi had physically dragged him to the park; all three of them sitting precariously on Tadashi's scooter. Though for what purpose, Varian hadn't a clue.

They reached the top of the miniature mountain to find one lone tree planted at the top. Well, that explained why it was called 'Tree Hill' at least.

"Oh, just for this," Tadashi said innocently, before giving Varian a firm push that sent him tumbling down the side of the hill.

It hadn't hurt, the grass being soft and well manicured, but the surprise of it sent Varian reeling. He looked up at Tadashi with a confused pout.

Tadashi laughed.

"What was that for!?" Varian angrily shouted.

"You gotta stay alert if you wanna win the game." Tadashi called down to him.

Right before Hiro pushed him from behind.

Tadashi also went rolling down the hill same as Varian had.

Varian couldn't contain his own laughter at seeing the other teen get his just deserts. "Ha! Serves you right!" He said as Tadashi came to a stop next to him and sat up.

Hiro stood at the top of the hill smugly, hands on his hips, and called down to them both. "So which one of you is going to come get me!?

Varian blinked up at him, still confused.

Tadashi gave him a light tap on his arm with the back of his hand. "Come on, we can take him. Look at him, he's a shrimp!"

He yelled this last good natured insult up at Hiro, who only grinned even wider upon hearing it.

"That's King Prawn to you. See if you can take the throne, if you dare!"

And that's when it finally dawned on Varian, what was going on. They were playing king of the hill.

Varian couldn't even remember the last time he had played such a game, or any game really. Not since he was very little at least; long before Rapunzel and the rocks had stormed into his life.

Tadashi was already making his way up the hillside as a smile slowly formed on Varian's lips. Oh, this is going to be fun . He thought.

---------------------

And fun it was.

Each boy took turns ganging up on the other, no one of them ever holding the coveted 'throne' for long. There was teamwork. There were good natured betrayals. There were tricks and schemes, taunts and boasts, and sweet compuances whenever one of them got too cocky.

Finally the game ended with all three of them tumbling down together in a heap as they wrestled each other.

They burst into raucous laughter and more friendly jabs as each blamed the other for losing the game. It was eventually agreed that there was no real winner… which just meant there was no clear loser either. So all were satisfied as they made their way back home.

Varian couldn't rid the smile from his face as they left, nor could he remember what he had been so worried about earlier. Hiro had been right, their family had only gotten bigger and Varian was now and forever a part of it. The game was Tadashi's way of showcasing that, and Varian couldn't have been more grateful for it.

---------------------

Aunt Cass was preparing dinner when her three kids came crashing through the house.

She turned to see her boys play fighting in the doorway, covered in dirt and grass stains.

"Well did you three have fun?" She asked as they stopped in their tracks upon seeing her. That's when they noticed the trail of muddy footprints behind them.

"Sorry, Aunt Cass." They all three sang in unison.

"Hmm-hmmm, and it's so nice of you to come home in muddy clothes when we don't have a working washer at the moment." She commented.

Varian's cheeks burned red as he remembered the washing machine.

"It's my fault Aunt Cass." Tadashi spoke up. "I dragged them to the park. We'll go and finish fixing up the washer right now."

"Yeah, with all three of us working on it, what can go wrong?" Hiro assured her as Tadashi steered his brothers away towards the deck.

"What indeed?" Aunt Cass quipped as they hurried off, "Dinner will be ready in twenty minutes, be cleaned up by then." She called after them. "I'm making your favorite, fried ham sandwiches!"

Varian paused and gave her a wide grin at that before following after the rest of the guys.

Aunt Cass watched them go with a smile of her own.

She really was the luckiest woman in the world, she thought.

#varian #tadashi hamada #Hiro Hamada #aunt cass #big hero 6 #tangled #big hero 6 the series #tangled the series #bh6 #rapunzel's tangled adventure #of rocks and robots

32 notes · View notes

skribblz · 3 years

Note

Fics??????? *very eyes, much emoji*

If sooo I recently just came up with another SenGen scenario-

I feel like Senku would question why Gen walks around barefoot all the time. He did offer some shoes for him one time but Gen declined cause I hc that for him it feels nice to walk around barefoot, and that since they're in the Stone world he has freedom to do so without getting called out, which Senku agrees nevertheless. But he does offer to clean his feet for him cause of how dirty they are sjfjsjfjsjf Gen ur gross /j /lh

and I think u know where this is going heehoo 👀👀👀

hehehehEHEHEH yay sengen ty angel <3

"Don't your feet ever...hurt?"

Gen tilts his head, a grin starting to spread across his face, "Aww are you worried about me, Senku-chan?"

"Just answer the question, damn mentalist." The scientist scoffs, earning a giggle.

"Of course it hurts if I step on something sharp," he replies, poking the other on the cheek, "but otherwise, nope! It's kinda like a nice little massage!"

"Don't tell me you have cuts on your feet." Senku starts, ready to go off on a whole tangent. "Someone like you knows how deadly infections can be, especially-"

"Especially in the Stone World, blah blah." Gen imitates, smirking as he received a glare from the other. "It's not that hard to say that you care, you stubborn thing."

Senku glared harder, pink faintly dusted across his cheeks since he couldn't honestly refute that statement. "You're just a-"

"Useful ally, I know, I know." The magician sighs dramatically, "Just another person to exploit."

Suddenly, a rough hand grabs onto his arm, pulling him out of his performance. His single audience member drags Gen along, who honestly doesn't mind. It did give him more chances to annoy the younger man.

"Fine, allow me to repay you for all the work you've done, as well as prevent your feet from falling off later. It's ten billion percent efficient."

"Ooh, where are you taking me, Dr. Ishigami? And please be gentle."

Senku groans, rolling his eyes. "Ew, shut up."

This was way too much fun.

It doesn't take long for Gen to realize that they were heading toward a nearby creek; all those trips to collect flowers for his tricks gave him decent knowledge of the land. Senku leads him down to the side of the water and allows Gen to roll up his the bottoms of his pants before obediently stepping in.

"It's cold!" He whines immediately.

"Deal with it, you big baby." Senku snickers at the mentalist's discomfort, letting this go on for awhile more. "Alright come on, get over here." He sits. "Give me your foot."

Gen backpedals a bit, trying not to fall into the freezing water. He’d prefer not to be soaking wet after all. Senku’s words did surprise him though, and he voices his concerns with a titter. "W-what? Who would've thought you were into stuff like this, Senku-chan!"

"Don't make it sound weird, I'm just cleaning your feet for you."

"I can do that myself-"

"You're the one who says how caring I am. So let me show how much I care." The scientist deadpans. He didn't understand why Gen was being so reluctant, unless there was actually a reason he didn't want his feet touched? Was he trying to hide an injury?

He frowns at Gen, offering his hand expectantly. The other shifts nervously, slowly sitting down on the grassy bank before placing his right heel onto the hand.

Senku immediately starts inspecting, taking note of the (thankfully) shallow scratches. Though when he starts prodding around for anything broken, Gen jolts and his face scrunches up all weird.

"Sorry, does this hurt?"

"No, no. I'm fine." The magician squeaks, willing himself to stay still as Senku shrugs, continuing his lighting poking and tracing.

After what seemed like ages, the sensations stop and Gen breathes a sigh of relief. He hears the bag rustle and Senku pulls out a bar of soap and dunks it into the water a few times. And without warning, he starts scrubbing the surface of Gen's sole.

And Gen squeals, instinctively yanking his foot out of the scientist's loose grasp.

"Oh yeah, you have some scratches so it might sting a little, but I thought you could take it?"

"A little too late for a warning don't you think!?"

"Just let me finish. It's your fault for not wearing shoes in the first place."

"And that's my choice!" Gen cries, trying to crawl away.

"And I'd rather not become the stone world's first amputator so you're just gonna have to bear with it." Senku remarks, snatching up the foot with a firmer grip.

"No means no!"

"Can you not?"

“Can you noEEE- NAahahaha!” The mentalist cackles as the scrubbing begins again. Although he noted that Senku was a bit gentler this time, it didn’t really help with his predicament. Gen’s back hits the grass as he clutches his stomach, desperately tugging at his trapped foot while the giggles fall endlessly from his mouth.

The scientist quickly puts two and two together, finally realizing why Gen was so reluctant to have his feet cleaned. It also explains the constipated looks he got during his inspection. "Huh, you're ticklish.” Senku says, mostly to himself. He watches the other squirm with great interest, cataloging each moment Gen twisted his head, face cherry red and mouth decorated with the cutest smile. “Why didn’t you just say so?”

"Behehecause it's- hAHahaha! Embahaharrassing! Nonononohoho!"

“I guess so.” Senku throws out casually, opting to dig his fingers into the magician’s toes. And Gen goes berserk, hands thumping the ground as he throws his head back, bright laughter filling the sky. He even almost kicks Senku in the face.

Senku, however, found this whole ordeal rather fascinating. He is very amused to find out how such a simple action could prompt such a large reaction. All that smooth-talking and witty remarks, turning into dorky, uncontrollable giggling. “Y’know, I think I like this side of you better, mentalist. Way more easier to deal with.”

And Gen wants to protest and argue and rebuke, but how could he? Nothing but chortles would come out; the ticklish sensations from his foot overloaded his brain, causing him to flail around madly.

The scientist decides that this is enough for now, dropping the foot back into the river. And Gen doesn’t complain this time, chest heaving grateful breaths. Each exhale produces a string of residual giggles, making Senku’s heart flutter just a tiny bit. Gen didn’t need to know that, he determines.

“Thahahat....was so...cruel.”

Senku shrugs in response, “Again, your fault for not wearing shoes.”

Gen ponders for a moment, was pushing Senku’s buttons right now really worth it? Sitting up slowly, he looks at the younger man through half-lidded eyes. “Well if you continue to give me special treatment...maybe I won’t ever put on a pair of shoes~”

“That is extremely illogical and you know it.”

“Maybe I think it’s nice having you touch me like this.” He really couldn’t help himself. Gen smiles flirtatiously, expecting to be met with wide crimson eyes and an equally crimson face.

But instead, Senku smirks back, eyes not wide, but calculating. He’s not skillful enough to hide the tint of pink dusting his cheeks though.

“Yeah? I’ll touch you more if you’d like.”

“Ooooh, how dirty~”

"Hand over the other foot, mentalist." Senku's grin morphs into something more sinister.

Gen’s jaw drops, a look of betrayal spreads across his face. Asshole. He grits his teeth and then presses his lips into a thin smile, "...Please be gentle?"

#see I always go crazy over sengen #where did this come from? i dont fricken know #sengen #dr. stone #ishigami senku #asagiri gen #skribes #heh curse word #nice

72 notes · View notes

migilini · 3 years

Note

Can I request an imagine with Charlie and like a typical day in their lives? Like they show their YouTube viewers their casual (Charlie chaos included) day? 💕

Typical - Charlie Gillespie

a/n: Sorry it took me a bit, had to take my wisdom teeth out... Anyways, I hope you like it :)) - Momo

words: 1.3k

warnings: fluffy like the clouds

requests are open :)

My MASTERLIST

----------------------------

“Hello hello and welcome back!” you told the camera propped up on one of your kitchen counters. The shot showing your tired face and loose pyjamas. A yawn escaped your slightly chapped lips as you tried to stretch the sleep away. Your eyes were heavy, your hair standing up in every possible direction, your body not fully awake yet.

“A lot of people asked for a little day to day vlog with the Gillespies,” you muttered as you made yourself a cup of coffee, the sparkling ring on your left ring finger very prominent in the shot.

“So we try to deliver! I just woke up a couple of minutes ago so excuse the light grogginess and don't know where my fiance is. Seems like you guys have to put up with only me for a bit.” you chuckled and poured milk into the steaming hot beverage.

“Sadly, we really don't have a lot to do today, well not much is planned…” you referred to the normal chaos a day with Charlie entailed. “We just need to run some errands, but I have a gut feeling that today will be a good one.”

You ended the clip and moved into your living room to turn up the radio. Ever since you were little, there was always some sort of music softly playing and therefore you hated a quiet house. It wasn't like you paid attention to the songs dancing through the air but the constant rumbling of background noise calms you down.

A little yellow piece of paper on the coffee table catches your eye. With furrowed eyebrows, you made your way over. Your eyes grew as you recognized Charlie's messy handwriting. Once again, you started a clip on your camera.

“I just found a secret message from Charlie on our coffee table.” you cleared your throat and started reading the note dramatically “‘Good morning Toots! I’m on a run and didn't want to wake you up. You looked so peaceful. I'll bring coffee from Allie’s. I love you, C Swizzle’” you grinned at the note, your heart beating faster with the love you have for him. “Hereby I declare the mystery where C Swizzle aka Char is as solved! I’m so hyped for the coffee. Allie’s is our favourite place in the whole city! Seriously if you're close by go and try it. So worth it. Now, until he’s back I’m gonna answer some emails and do our dishes from yesterday evening. You’re welcome to join me while I jam out to music.”

You propped the camera up on a shelf, filming yourself working for a bit. Then you went to the kitchen and turned up the music blaring out of the speakers you set up mere moments before. “Whenever I walk in the room. All the focus on me. The way I talk, the way I move. They all want on my team. Not tryin' to brag, brag, but I'm flawless.” screaming on the top of your lungs, you swayed your hips while the water from your tap filled the sink, the soap starting to bubble up.

“I'm taking over your playlist. Ain't perfect, but I can't miss, yeah. The party don't start 'til I walk in. I'm stealing all the attention. Don't get me started on mentions, yeah” A poor spoon had to be a placeholder microphone as you jumped through the small kitchen. Genuinely engulfed in the music, you didn't even hear the front door open and close. You didn't hear the footsteps walking towards you or the light chuckle that escaped the person's lips.

Sweaty arms wrapped themselves around your waist, making you scream and drop the cup you’ve been washing. The ceramic dish exploded on the floor, covering it in tiny splinters and shards. Charlie laughed at your reaction and pressed a loving kiss to your shoulder. “Sorry, Toots didn't want to scare you. I thought you heard me come in. Good morning by the way.” At the sound of his voice, you immediately relaxed. You weren't being murdered by an intruder. Turning around in his arms, you faced your boyfriend, your back pressed against the sink.

“I thought this was my last minute on earth. You really want to kill me before you even have the chance to marry me.” you chuckled and kissed his nose. “Where would be the fun in that? I do want to inherit some of your stuff.”

You lightly shoved him away but his arms stayed looking around your smaller frame. Looking down at the cup you frowned. “That was my favourite.”

“I'll get you another one. One that's even better than this one. Again I’m sorry.”

“I'll remember that. How was the run?” absentmindedly your hand brushed away some stray hairs that flew into Charlie's face. “Good.” he murmured “I don't like running with a mask on but it was all worth it because…” he turned around and got a little bag from the counter behind him. “I got us some coffee and that cream bagel you like so much.” you beamed up at him.

“Really?”

The next time you vlogged was at the grocery store several hours later. Charlie was pushing the shopping cart, while still holding your hand as you tried to deceiver your own grocery list. The camera sat comfortably at the front of the cart, framing you perfectly.

“Why did you think it was funny to write most of this in french?” you asked the boy next to you. He gave your hand a squeeze “Because you sometimes write stuff in german as well. It's only fair.”

You only rolled your eyes at that. “Yeah because I forgot the English word.” you huffed “Okay so we need d'oeufs. Eggs? And some milk. Right?”

“Mais oui mademoiselle.” He said amused.

“If you continue I will start to speak german,” you warned your boyfriend and you could bet that he was smiling under that mask.

“Threatening me in the grocery store? That's mean but the game is on honey.”

“You're gonna lose my dear. I had some french at school.” you let go of his hand and crossed your arms, raising one of your eyebrows at him while both of you grabbed some items you needed.

It wasn't the first time that the two of you suddenly challenged each other. One time, a couple of months ago, Charlie just randomly started to run and yelled back at you “Whoever is the last at the restaurant has to pay!” and with these words, he triggered your ambition. You struggled to get rid of your heels, hoping for the majority of the way as the two of you raced, reaching the restaurant sweaty and out of breath, earning some stares from other couples. Or another time where you suddenly claimed that you would be able to eat more pizza than him. A bet that you lost terribly.

Situations like this were normal for you, both really competitive and hardheaded. It was one of the things that spiced up daily life.

He raised both of his eyebrows, sparking a fire behind his eyes. “Essaie-moi, baby (Try me, baby)”

“In Ordnung, ab jetzt werde ich nur noch deutsch mit dir sprechen. (Alright, from now on I will only talk in german to you)”

Let’s just say the grocery shopping was a huge mess and took twice as long. You told Charlie to go and get the toothpaste and he came back with some pears which earned a laugh from you. Charlie tried to explain to you what he wanted to cook for you tomorrow evening, ingredients and everything but you only stared at him confused, occasionally nodding your head so he knew you were still listening. The dinner was gonna be a full surprise.

The two of you kept the act up all the way back to your apartment. You unpacked the food and had a camera recording somewhere. For the second time that day, arms wrapped around your waist, his head nuzzled in the crook of the neck.

“Do you have anything else planned for today?” he mumbled into your skin, his hot breath on your skin giving you goosebumps. A smile spread over your face. Wiggling out of his grip you sat on the tabletop and Charlie immediately stood between your legs, his arms around your neck. He leaned in to kiss you but before his lips touched yours you whispered “I won.”

His eyes grew wide and he pulled away slightly. He huffed and shook his head “Man I totally forgot about that. What is your prize, my lady?”

You traced his jaw with your index finger whilst your eyes never left his. “I demand… a thousand kisses!”

“A thousand?!” he exclaimed “My lady that's too many. You're going to starve the whole town.”

“Well then the town shouldn't have lost.” you teased back.

A smile was prominent on his face as he leaned in closer again “I must say you're a demanding ruler. But it seems like I must comply…”

The two of you stayed in bed for the rest of the day, only moving over to the couch to zap through Netflix. Naturally one of you already placed the camera on the shelf next to you.

Charlie tapped you on the shoulder, looking up from his spot half between your legs and on top of you.

“Yes, bubbs?”

“Play with my hair please.” he nearly whispered and made himself comfortable once again. Tiny hands finding their place in his dark hair.

At first, it was really weird to vlog all the time especially on a day where you and Charlie were just fooling around and being lovey-dovey. Luckily, you could still decide how much you wanted to cut out for the final video.

----------------------------

Taglist: @alluringworld

#charlie gillespie #charlie gillespie fanfiction #charlie gillespie imagine #charlie gillespie x reader #charlie gillespie x y/n #charlie gillespie x oc #charlie gillespie one shot #charlie gillespie fluff #charlie gillespie fic #charlie gillespie fanfic

179 notes · View notes

cherrycocaineee · 3 years

Text

2. Jay Park - Pregnancy Reveal

All the signs pointed right to it and I ignored them until I noticed that one of the main symptoms had been right in front of my face for three months. Each finger gripped onto the opposite hand for dear life as I waited for the pregnancy test to finish doing whatever it had to do for the next minute. But who would have thought a minute would feel like an hour? Sighing, I started moving my leg up and down until I saw the final bar stop loading giving me my results.

Pregnant.

It said pregnant.

Fuck.

Burying my face into my empty hand, I started to cry. So many emotions flooded through me as I thought about how I was going to tell my boyfriend, Jay. We’ve only been together for a complete year, so there was a possibility that he wouldn’t even want to have a child. After spending several moments trying to catch my breath, I hid the pregnancy test in my tampon box and left the bathroom. I was a little happy that Jay wouldn’t be home for another day or so, it gave me plenty of time to think. Nibbling on my lip, I texted Bradley asking him to come over. He was the one person I knew I could talk to because he and his husband already had a child. Badley let me know that he’d be here in fifteen minutes, so I went to the kitchen to brew some tea. I guess if I was pregnant now, I couldn’t drink coffee. Each minute felt like a decade and I couldn’t figure out why this was such a problem for me. If Jay didn’t want the baby, that was fine, I could be a single mother.

A knock echoed throughout my apartment and I felt relief wash over me. I opened the front door and Bradley was standing there with his husband, Dawson, and their one-year-old child, Macy. I smiled brightly and the both of them returned it.

“I’m sorry,” Bradley apologized, “when you called we were heading home after a family thing.”

“Oh no, don’t apologize,” I waved it off, “I’m the one who should be sorry for bothering you while you were with your family.”

Bradley wrapped his large, muscular arms around my tired body and I patted his back. I greeted Dawson after Bradley let go of me. Dawson was always a sweet person, so I knew having him here wasn’t going to be a problem. I could trust him just like I could trust Bradley and Jay.

Dawson placed Macy on the floor to play and I made three cups of tea, putting them on a basket weaved serving try along with sugar and honey. Sitting it on my mahogany brown coffee table, I took my seat next to Bradley.

“So what was it you wanted to talk about, Raegan?” Bradley asked while Dawson started making their cups of tea.

I was already stirring sugar into mine, “well, I guess the only way I can really get this out is just by telling you.”

He took a small sip from his tea.

“I’m pregnant.”

Bradley’s eyes widened and he almost spit out his tea as the words came out of my mouth. Somehow he manages to swallow it before looking at me.

“Are you serious?” He asked eyes still wide with shock.

I nodded my head slowly. He set his cup down and grabbed my hands.

“That’s amazing, Raegan,” he chirped, “how did Jay react?”

“I haven’t told him yet,” I said, “I’m scared that he’ll break up with me when he finds out about it.”

“Please. Jay loves you. Raegan. Why would he just leave?”

“Because we’ve only been together for a year.”

Fortunately for me, Bradley and Dawson were a great help in calming me down and talking it over with. I knew if I had called my mom or one of my siblings, they would gush over the baby and one of them would even tell Jay before I had the chance to do so. The three of us continued talking, finally accepting that there was nothing I could do but wait to see Jay’s reaction. However, they made it perfectly clear that they’d be there for me if Jay decided that this wasn’t what he wanted.

The day continued on and soon it was almost ten o’clock, however, Macy was sleeping on the couch since Bradley and Dawson didn’t want to leave just yet. Turns out they didn’t get to stay longer because Jay walked through my front door with his suitcase by his side. A little panic ran through me since I wasn’t expecting him home until maybe tomorrow or the next day.

Jay flashed all three of us one of his famous, toothy grins.

“Hey guys,” he said to Bradley and Dawson, “how are you two doing?”

“Great,” Bradley said, smiling.

Dawson agreed, “yep, we’re doing great. Macy has finally learned not to color on our walls, so we’re less stressed.”

Jay chuckled causing his chest to move, “well that’s good. Children can be a handful, but in the end, it’s worth it.”

What he said wasn’t enough to make me feel paranoid about his reaction to me being pregnant, but it was enough to send nervous shudders throughout my body. Jay walked over to me and leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to my cheek. I smiled weakly.

“You okay?” He asked.

“Oh yeah,” I lied, “I’m just tired.”

Bradley and Dawson were now leaving, and as they were walking out the door, Bradley engulfed me in another hug whispering in my ear that it’ll be okay no matter what happened. I wanted to believe him, but I really was scared of losing Jay. I loved him a lot, more than anyone I could possibly love.

Once the door was closed, I started cleaning up the tea from earlier and washing the dishes. Jay walked in from putting his suitcase in my bedroom. I felt him wrap his tattooed arm around my waist, placing his head in the crook of my neck.

“Raegan,” he whispered, the air from his mouth tickling my skin, “are you sure you’re okay?”

“Of course,” lying once again, “why wouldn’t I be okay?”

“You don’t seem too happy about me being here.”

“It was a surprise since I wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow or the next day.”

He chuckled and turned me to face him, “well I’ve been away for three months already, I didn’t want to keep you waiting.”

I giggled as he leaned down and pressed his soft, full lips against my own. Our lips moved in sync as I brought my hands up and wrapped them around his next. Soap started dripping on him but he didn’t care to move away, he just continued to kiss me. Once we finally did pull away, our foreheads still remained touching.

“Are you hungry?” I asked gently, “I can cook something up for you.”

“No, I just wanna go to bed,” he replied, picking me up bridal style, “I’m tired and you’re tired, so let’s gets some rest.”

He carefully placed me down on my side of the bed before stripping to his boxers and climbing into the spot next to me. Every worry that was in my head was now gone because I still had time to think this through before I told him. For now, we’d go to bed happy and in love, tomorrow, we’ll see what happens. With a big smile on my face, I fell asleep wrapped in Jay’s arms.

*Jay’s p.o.v*

The sun was barely up when I was torn from my sleep. Raegan’s spot was empty and the bathroom light was on, door ajar. From inside I could hear the sound of my girlfriend throwing up over the toilet bowl. I hopped out of bed and ran over to the door, tapping three times before entering. Raegan was hurled over the toilet trying to keep her hair out of her face. I took her soft hair into my hands and held it back for her until she was finished. My large palm rubbing small circles into her back letting her know I was here. A minute or two passed until she was done, then I helped her undress and get in the shower so she could clean up.

“You didn’t tell me you were sick,” I called out while disinfecting the toilet and cleaning around it.

“I didn’t want you to worry,” she lied, just as she did yesterday when she said she was okay.

Raegan liked to pretend she was a good liar, but I knew her. She was terrible at it and you could tell by the small gestures she made. Fidgeting with her fingers or sleeve, biting her bottom lip hard, avoiding any type of eye contact with you when she could. All three of those things she’d done yesterday when I came home. I didn’t want to pry or force her to tell me, all I had to do was hope she’d be able to soon.

I was finishing sweeping up around the toilet when I accidentally knocked over her tampons. Mentally kicking myself in the ass for making a bigger mess, as her lady products spread all over the floor, I began picking them up. That’s when I saw a pregnancy test against the counter. I picked it up and felt my eyes almost pop out of their sockets.

She was pregnant.

I quickly finished picking up her tampons, put them back where they were supposed to go, and went into the room to put on some pants. Just as she was walking out of the bathroom, drying her red hair, I shoved the pregnancy test into my pocket. I smiled at her.

“Feeling better?” I asked.

“Actually yeah,” she said, smiling back at me.

“Why don’t you get some more sleep?” I asked, grabbing her hand gently, “I’ll make you some breakfast and wake you when it’s done.”

Might as well since it was already almost six o’clock in the morning and I wasn’t going to be able to sleep. I was already processing Raegan being pregnant and the more I thought about it, the more excited I felt.

Raegan didn’t argue, she just climbed into bed and let me tuck her in. I pressed soft kisses against her forehead and she smiled as her eyes closed. I gave her one more kiss before heading into the kitchen to fix her some pancakes.

By the time breakfast was finished, it was almost seven o’clock. Normally it didn’t take that long to cook, but I was making sure everything was perfect. I even ended up going to the store to buy some freshly made juice and a single rose. Also doing the cleaning so that Raegan didn’t have to wake up to a dirty kitchen caused by her boyfriend. Figured that would stress her out.

Placing her bowl of fresh fruits, pancakes, coffee, flower, and syrup on her basket weaved tray, I carried it to her carefully. She was already awake when I went in there, scrolling through her phone. A smile appeared on her face when she saw me.

“Jay,” she giggled, sitting up, “you did all this for me?”

“Absolutely,” I hummed, “nothing’s too good for my girl.”

She giggled again before the smile on her face fell. I frowned. What happened?

“Is everything okay?” I asked, concerned.

“Jay there’s something I need to tell you. I don’t know how you’re going to react and I don’t know if you’re even going to want to be with me after I tell you, but I need to tell you before I chicken out again.”

Was this why she hadn’t told me right away she was pregnant? Was she afraid I’d leave her?

I knew Raegan didn’t have much trust in people when I met her, considering what happened to her, but I always thought maybe she knew I’d never leave her side.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out the pregnancy test. Her eyes widened.

“I know already, Rae,” I said, smiling reassuringly, “I found it when I was cleaning up your products I knocked down while sweeping.”

“So you aren’t mad?” She quizzed.

“Why would I be mad?” I laughed happily, “you’re the best girlfriend a guy could possibly ask for. You’re kind, smart, beautiful, and so much more. I’d be lucky to have a child with you. Plus, I’m not getting any younger.”

Overwhelming tears started falling down her cheeks as she cried at my sweet words. I smiled and wiped them away. I knew she was only scared, but all I wanted was to make her feel safe and comfortable with me.

“I shouldn’t have worried,” she sniffled, a small laugh dripping from her lips, “it was stupid to think you wouldn’t want me anymore.”

The two of us only laughed as she began stuffing her face with pancakes. Everything just felt right. In nine months, the girl I was incredibly head over heels for would be having our beautiful child. Only one thing was missing. I grabbed Raegan’s hand and she looked at me.

“One more thing,” I said.

“Okay.”

She wiped her lips with the napkin before giving me her undivided attention. I scooted the breakfast over a little and sat in front of her.

“It doesn’t seem right to bring a baby into a family without his family together,” I said, “and I know I don’t have a ring yet, but will you marry me, Raegan Young.”

She threw her arms around me and nodded fiercely.

“Of course I’ll marry you.”

#aomg imagines #aomg jay park #jay park scenarios #jay park imagine #jay park fluff #kpop fluff #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #park jaebum #aomg

67 notes · View notes

jangofctts · 3 years

Note

Ma’am I’m dying out here. It’s always “Void will wreck you in the fresher” and “Void has the third best stroke game of the squad” but never “Here I wrote a lil blurb of Void wrecking your shit”

Please I need we need it

smH YOURE RIGHT IVE BEEN DENYING YALL KJEKEJH

ct-7775 void // fem!reader

warnings: shower sex

You’re not quite sure when this became a regular occurrence--a couple months ago you think. Sorta like date night, except in the fresher...naked and undoubtedly against regulations. That’s what makes it fun you suppose--a little late night thrill.

Not like anyone would find you, you specifically chose time slots around midnight so you’d have the entire fresher block to yourself--an ingenious idea and totally worth waking up with wet hair in the morning. You just--well you didn't expect someone else to have the same idea. Safe to say it was a little jarring to cross paths naked and afraid, soaped up and scrambling for a towel with Sunburst squadron’s finest and only medic. Void.

To be fair, he hadn't even seen you. It was the end of your shift, tunnel vision on one thing, and one thing only. A nice hot fresher and certainly not a naked you.

With neither of you willing to budge and shuffle around schedules, you came to the brilliant conclusion that you could both shower at the same times--just so long as you both kept your eyes to yourselves. Funny how that rule barely lasted two weeks.

Safe to say, it’s been the best sex you’ve ever had. And all done in a fresher for kriff’s sake.

Once or twice every week you have Void all to yourself--that permanent scowl and grumpy mannerisms washing away with the flow of water and the warmth of your skin. A completely different man--one briefly unburdened with the weight of keeping his brothers alive and well just to send them off to battle the next day. You don’t mind being his distraction--as fleeting as it may be.

Tonight is no different as the solid line of his body slips in behind you, filling in the limited amount of space left in the tiny space. And you mean tiny. You can move without challenging your flexibility or banging your elbows and knees against the walls.

The touch of Void’s palm over your ribcage pulls a pleased sigh from your lungs. His fingers tickle up your shoulder blade and sweeps your hair, plastered to the nape of your neck, to the side. “Let me see you...”

You turn without hesitation, giggling as Void’s hand cups your cheek, his thumbs jumping up to smooth down your eyebrows and wick away the rivulets of water. Before you have the chance to greet him, Void tugs you forward into a deep, toe-curling kiss, shuddering as the cool durasteel of the wall touches your back. You break away and place your palm over his cheek. leans into your palm and smiles as your thumb lands right over the little blue dot tattooed onto his cheek.

“How was it today?”

“Sweets got a splinter and Fuse burned himself playing with matches again.” Void grumbles, sliding his other hand up to cup one of your breasts. He pinches your nipple and rolls it between his forefinger and thumb, plucking out a gasp from your parted lips. “All I could think about was you--always distractin’ me.”

You roll your eyes. “Boohoo--baby is distracted by my tits. You’re lucky I like you.”

Void buries his face into the crook of your neck, nips at your ear and hooks his arm around your waist. “Mhm. If I accidentally kill someone, s’because of you.”

You slide your fingers through his hair, a bit long once it’s wet and free from his headband--you give the strands a playful jostle. Void tilts his head, skims his lips over the line of jaw and steals another kiss--when he pulls away he hesitates here for a moment--simply drinking in the shape of you, every freckle and little wrinkle, grafting it into his memory for eternity. It’s a two way mirror however--

The bags under his eyes, like two swaths of purpling bruisers, are worse than last week and Maker--do they ever give this man a break? “Void--when’s the last time you slept?”

He blinks rapidly and shoves his head back into the crux of your shoulder to avoid your scrutiny. “Don’t worry about it.”

You frown. You’ll push him about it later, because right now? He’s trailing tiny, addicting kisses from your shoulder up to your ear, your blood already singing even though the chaste pecks border innocent. You gasp as those kisses morph into nips, sucking sure to be bruises into the flesh, marking you just below the line of where the collar of your uniform ends.

The arm around your waist skims further down, grabbing a handful of your ass and roughly squeezing. You whimper, curling further into his hold as liquid heat races from the pit of your stomach and outward to each and every limb. He worms his muscled thigh between your legs, pinning you further against the wall, the hand on your ass snaking back to massage tiny circles over your thigh. You whimper and thread your fingers into the wet strands of his hair, arching into his chest.

“Fuck--you’re a vision,” Void pants, “So beautiful.”

He moans low in the back of his throat as your hand gently encompasses his cock, thick and swelling to its full length in your palm. “I could say the same about you, handsome.”

Void shudders and sags into your hold, huffing out curses and roughly parting your thighs further apart. You whine and press your head into the wall as he hikes your thigh up and around his hip. He then slides two of those thick, calloused fingers pass over your clit, throbbing and aching to be touched. Your own slick mixed with the aide of the water let the two digits glide with ease over your lips, rocking down to circle your clenching entrance then back to lightly trace the little bundle of nerves.

His cock jumps in your grip as you whine his name, needy and desperate as you roll your palm up and down his cock. He curses under his breath, and bites your earlobe. “You want me to fuck you, sweetheart?”

You groan as he pushes a finger into your cunt, the muscles squeezing around him for just a shred of pleasure. “Yes--please, Void--fuck me.”

“Such a filthy mouth.” He chastises with a dark chuckle.

You groan out your frustration as you roll your hips, your nails digging into his bicep to pull him closer. He must take pity on your squirming, pathetic display as he abruptly extracts his finger and drops your thigh.

Your stomach drops as your bare feet slip off the tiles, yet the heavy muscled weight of Void’s chest pinning you forward saves you from landing ass over heels. He’s stronger than he looks, a fact you’re confronted with as he scoops your knee over his elbow and squishing you further into the wall. “Careful, mesh’la--wouldn’t want a trip to med bay, now would we?”

You swear and dig you nails into his shoulder, slippery from the water. He grips his cock in one hand and slides the thick head over the wet slit of your cunt, the tip of him catching against your dripping entrance.

You jerk and press your hips back. “V-Void…”

Your breath catches in your throat as the very tip of him, searing hot and harder than tempered steel, pushes into you. It feels the same with each time he fucks you, that pinch and fluttering panic low in your stomach that he’s too big. You squirm and whine as he rocks his hips forward, the little motions seating him deeper into your greedy center. Maker— you think it’ll go on forever, with no room to accommodate him.

“There you go,” he babbles, his breathing a mess of pitchy moans and praise, muffled by the spray of water. “Fuck—such a good girl. Taking it all.”

You shiver despite the temperature of the water, twitching in his hold as the narrow dip of his waist slots against your cunt. Your name flows past his lips, the enamel of his teeth tugging at the fragile skin lining the base of your neck.

Stars— your thoughts are pulverized into dust with the first tentative rolls of his hips. There’s no buildup to the pace he sets or patience as his fingers dig into your ass while the other anchors to the wall.

It’s a ridiculously short amount of time, you think, as your orgasm creeps down each vertebrae, your cunt clamping down on his cock tighter than a fucking vice. One last roll against your clit and you’re done for. So fucking gone.

The edges of your entire universe drop off into some unknown mystery--bursts of white light igniting behind your eyelids as you're brought over the edge.

“Shit—get so fucking wet when you cum,” Void snarls. “And tight. S-so fucking tight.”

You’re not allowed to float down from your high, not until he also reaches his end. Until then you’re forced through the rough scrap of the last dregs of your pleasure, his abdomen scraping agains your throbbing clit. The loud, wet slaps of his hips meeting your cunt echoes in the tiny space, accentuates every hitched moan and sharp whimper. Void’s hand slips off the wall and buries it into your hair at the base of your skull, tugging sharply as your core clenches around his cock.

“M’close,” he pants, his breath humid against your skin. “Can I—fuck--can I cum in you?”

You nod with a shuddering whine.

Your nerves burn as you slip your own hand down to toy with your clit, a simple brush over the nerves and your careening off the edge again. Your cries are a jumble of incomprehensible babbles--the only thing you manage to latch onto is his name.

With a dangerously loud curse, Void’s bruising pace quickens, frantic as he chases his own release. Void’s hips stutter, the hand in your hair tightening into a fist as his teeth embed themselves over your shoulder. With one—two last thrusts of his hips, he cums. Ropes of his release coats your insides, throbbing and twitching until he’s spent, left with the ambiance of quick panting and the trickle of water.

Stars, you can’t fucking think.

With a grunt he stumbles back as much as he can in the limited space, the absence of his cock leaving his cum to dribble out and slip down the inside of your thigh. You’re still squeezing your eyes shut, jittery and unable to move from your current spot without the risk of stumbling to your knees.

Void dips his head and steals a kiss, dragging his tongue deep into your mouth. He groans and keeps you here, leading you through soft kisses and a careful dance of something more than just a simple fuck in a fresher. You’re not sure if you’re allowed to breach that gentle space between you—grasp something tangible with uncertain promises and stolen minutes as sunlight fills the space between your heart and lungs.

He kisses your cheek, breaking away before either of you slip and tumble into uncharted territory. Another time maybe—not in the middle of a war and certainly not in a communal shower.

“Thank you,” he murmurs. And it’s enough—it has to be enough.

#HERE IS MY INSANE RAMBLES HEKDBD #oOf #ask #keida answers #sunburst squadron #my writing #clone trooper x reader #clone oc x reader #clone oc

141 notes · View notes

v3nusaphr0d1t3 · 3 years

Text

an open window

crossposted on ao3: <3 rating: teen content warning: blood, angst hurt/comfort, dabi x gn!reader

he showed up as he always did, breaking and entering in the middle of the night and properly scaring the shit out of you. you didn’t live in the best neighborhood, so you were prepared for things like this, quirk at the ready (whether it be helpful or not in your half-asleep stupor). you stumbled through the hall with your bat in hand, only to see a face you hadn’t seen a while, rummaging through your cabinets.

dabi. he was injured, based on the blood on your window sill and on your fridge handle. he had broken your window lock and climbed into your apartment through your fire escape. you were almost relieved you hadn’t installed those safety bars like your landlord had encouraged you to. he left the window open, a cool breeze flowing into the room, moonlight gracing the floor and lighting his silhouette in a silver lining.

“you’re fixing my window before you leave.” you say, startling him, as if he didn’t hear you creak down your hallway.

“ah! just the person i was lookin’ for— how ya been, dollface?” he was trying to sweeten you up, pet name churning your stomach as it always did. you sigh quietly, annoyance evident in your features as you used the easy emotion to bury about 8 tons of worry. you move from your perch in the doorway, off to your bathroom to get your first aid supplies. he follows quietly, setting down whatever he found deep in your freezer on his raid of your cabinets for what was likely pain pills or medical supplies.

he entered the bathroom with you as you pulled out your kit from under your sink. you set the supplies on the counter and motioned for him to sit on the side of the tub. you kneeled in front of him, earning an eyebrow waggle and a wince by proxy due to the cut on his forehead that was currently gushing with blood. you scoffed, grabbing for your damp cloth and beginning to clean off his wounds. the ones that you could see, that is.

“do i want to know what happened?” you asked quietly as you poured a gentle soap onto your cloth and gently rubbed at a wound higher up on his arm. to your surprise, and his luck, they all seemed to be flesh wounds. they were just poorly (or well, depending on who you asked) placed, which led to the excess of blood.

“i dunno, do ya?” he snarked back, earning a rough tug against his arm as he winced. he took that as an answer, and promptly shut his mouth.

once you were done cleaning the wounds, you bandaged them up. he had stopped bleeding for the most part, so you wiped your hands of his blood and reached up to hold your hand against his forehead.

“are your ears ringing? can you see clearly?” simple questions to make sure he didn’t have a concussion from whatever had caused the injury to his forehead.

“i can see plenty, ears are a little peaky.” he took a moment to answer. you nodded, and took that as enough of a reason to put him to bed. he held a conversation just fine, so you guessed there wasn’t any reasonable suspicion to watch him for seizure signs. he had gotten his way all the way here, all he needed was rest.

you turned to wash your hands, rubbing over your face and shaking your head, and you watched him stand up behind you, watching you in the mirror.

“you’re an ass, you know that?” you asked him, not expecting an answer, and definitely not expecting the kiss he gives to your temple, and his arms coming to rest around your waist. the butterflies in your stomach were going wild. you didn’t allow yourself to catch feelings for this man, you were convenient for him. that was all, you sighed internally. that was all.

you pulled away with a “c’mon,” as you led him to your bedroom, lamp still on, painting the room in a wash of dim golden light. you motioned for him to lay down, going off to get a damp towel to place on his forehead.

and to no surprise, when you came back, he had stripped to his skivvies and was laying in your bed. you sighed, knowing you were going to have to wash your pillowcase free of his shitty hair dye tomorrow. you handed him the towel, and went to leave the room to sleep on the couch, but he interrupted you as he spoke.

“c’mere.” he murmured, reaching up to make ‘come here’ motions, trying not to move his arms much and mess up your bandage handiwork. you paused, back turned to him in the doorway.

“do you like me, dabi?” you didn’t turn around, didn’t look at him. you knew he wouldn’t reply. “what am i to you?” you asked, finally turning to look him in his eyes, gorgeous sapphire gaze zeroing in on your expression. “will you be here when i wake up?”

you waited. and you waited. and finally when you thought he wasn’t going to reply, he gave you an answer. to which question, you didn’t know.

“yes. c’mere, please.” you were taken aback. you didn't want to believe him, but you couldn’t help it. you gave him another chance. you approached the bed, crawling in with him and curling up at his side. he wrapped an arm around you carefully, and it wasn’t long before you were dozing off, the warm embrace and scent of smoke feeling like home.

the stench of smoke sticks like hell, to get it out is to wash the walls, leave no trace. you dreamt of him that night, held in his arms, safe, you dreamt of being his. you dreamt of him being yours.

he watched you while you slept. your gorgeous features, your expressions as you dreamt (of what, he didn’t know), and your breathing. they lulled him down, holding him to the ground and allowing him to get some sleep that he hadn’t gotten in a while. you held him down, like a string from heart to heart. you understood him, you didn’t ask questions that he didn’t want to answer, and you cared for him. he didn’t think himself much worthy of loving, but you made him feel like he was worth something. he used to throw himself at danger without a second thought, but now he has something to lose.

does this mean he will completely change? even mostly? no. he’ll be the same old rolling stone, always lying low and living high. but at least maybe, you’ll be there with him. he felt like you could see his soul, however shattered. you didn’t try to fix him, but instead just swept up the pieces and held him close. you gave him a choice to be whatever man he wanted to be, however good or bad, and you would still be there, an open window, an unlocked door, a gaping heart, to wrap him up.

he decided that night that he loved you.

when you woke, there he was.

#dabi x reader #dabi bnha #bnha x reader #dabi x gn reader #hurt/comfort

75 notes · View notes

thiswasinevitableid · 3 years

Note

For the meet uglies, 41, Sternclay, NSFW?

Here you go! And if you're a fan on "Let me be good to you" this has very similar vibes.

41: I’m at the 24/7 gym at 2 in the morning and I thought I was alone so I’m singing in the showers, but when you start singing with me, I’m startled and slip so the first time we meet, we’re both wet and naked

Stern blames the playlist he had on at work for the fact his morning devolves into chaos. He works better to the blues (or 2000s pop hits, but those don’t feel right when going over files on suspicious incidents in Appalachia). So he hums as he rinses the remnants of his workout down the drain. He’d never sing where someone can hear, but since no one is here.

I want a little steam on my clothes

Maybe I could fix things up so they'll go

What's the matter daddy, come on, save my soul

He goes to rinse his hair and realizes the song is still going.

I need some sugar in my bowl, I ain't foolin'

I want some sugar in my bowl

His lizard brain yells two separate messages; “baritone voice very hot” and “oh god who’s there.”

The second message leaps into the driver seat and, in his attempt to turn, peer out of the stall, and be sure it’s just another patron, his foot finds the traces of soap on the floor.

“Shit” He falls backwards out of the stall, thudding to the floor.

“Oh fuck.” A man emerges two stalls to his left, soaking wet and flailing for a towel, “I’m so fucking sorry, I’m so used to singing along with the radio. Are you okay?”

Joseph scans his body, finds nothing broken, “Yes.”

“Thank god.” The other man flicks shaggy hair from his face. In the split second before he gets the towel around his waist, Joseph’s gym manners fail him and he glances down. At least he’s getting several weeks worth of masturbation fodder from this humiliating moment.

“Here man, lemme help you up.”

Joseph takes the offered hand, then grits his teeth and swiftly turns to grab his own towel from where he hung it. He’d rather not show a stranger his ass, but this is how his night is going. As he turns back, he spots the other man quickly redirecting his stare from his ass to the floor.

Once both showers are off, Joseph changes and packs his bag. The stranger is at the mirror, tying his hair back and combing his beard.

“I’m sorry, my singing probably startled you too.”

A shrug of broad shoulders, “I work in kitchens, I’m so used to background noise some of it barely registers. And I always have the radio on when it’s just me in the mornings.”

“Hence the singing along?”

“Yeah, and why I’m here so early. I try to get my exercise in before work. Gotta admit, when I joined this gym I didn’t expect anyone else would be in for a 2 a.m workout.”

“My hours are all over the place. I’m with the FBI and when I’m on a case I tend to, um, lose track of time. Or work way later than I should.” He shoulders his bag, raises his hand in a wave, “it was nice meeting you. Even it was alarming at first.”

“Same to you” the man smiles at him over his shoulders, “and if you’re ever here at zero dark thirty again and want a gym buddy, I’m happy to keep you company.”

--------------------------------------

It’s a month before Joseph runs into him again. He swipes his card at the gym, finds the clank of a weight rack in place of the usual silence. The man from the showers smiles at him as he puts his bag near medicine balls, and when he’s done with his set he crosses the 80s-colored carpet to join him.

“It’s much nicer to see you when I can see you coming.” Joseph smiles politely, not catching his own subtext until the other man blushes.

“No kidding. I, uh, this may sound weird, but could I work-out with you? I’ve been doing the same routine for years because it’s what I know, but it gets so fucking boring.”

“I wouldn’t mind the company, though be warned that I do a lot of core and don’t use the machines all that much.”

“Totally fine. I’m, uh, I’m Barclay, by the way.” He holds out his hand and Joseph pictures twisting it behind his back while pinning him over one of the benches.

Instead, he shakes it, “Joseph.”

-----------------------------------------

“I’m serious about skipping this if you need to” Joseph starts up the treadmill as Barclay jogs on the one beside him, “if you’re on your feet all day at work this could make that really uncomfortable.”

“Nah, I’ll be fine.”

It’s the truth; he may not be as in-shape as Joseph, but he’s still pretty fit, and they only do thirty minutes of running. But it’s equally true that he’d rather suffer some extra-sore legs than lose out on a half-hour of his limited time with his friend.

He’d been hoping for someone to spot him and maybe teach him some new lower body exercises, with the added bonus of having some basic things (like music taste and bonkers work schedules) in common. What he’s gotten is someone with a dorky sense of humor, and extensive knowledge of cryptozoology and mystery novels, and the stamina to make engaging conversation about those things while running or working a rowing machine.

It helps that Joseph is so hot that he could caramelize sugar just by looking at it. The glimpses he caught of him when they met were tantalizing; the way his dark hair gradually loosens from it’s gelled state, the way his cheeks turn pink when flushed and sweating, the few times his voice turns truly breathless? Barclay is ready to get on his knees and beg for him to do obscene things in the locker rooms.

What makes this desire impossible to shake is the suspicion that it’s shared. He’s caught Joseph looking at him in a way that isn’t just about his form, and when he shows Barclay a new exercise he stands closer and lingers longer than strictly necessary. And his Freudian slips are so frequent and obvious they may as well be Freudian nightgowns.

Just when he thinks Joseph can’t get any hotter, the agent texts him around their three month mark of working out together warning that he’ll be late. When he arrives, Barclay drops the five pound plate he was moving.

Joseph hasn’t changed clothes. He’s in a full, black suit, shined shoes, and a silver and blue tie that Joseph wants him to take off and loop around Barclays throat instead. The agent smiles with a promise to be right back, seems bemused when he returns to find Barclay in the exact spot and position he left him.

“You okay, big guy?” The nickname is one of the many ways he built a home for himself in Barclays daydreams.

“Uh. Uh, yeah, sorry, got lost in thought. I haven’t started on the full workout, did some extra stretching since I’m kinda tight from yesterday. You wanna do weights first?”

“Sure.”

Their routine lasts about an hour. It’s an act of god that Barclay gets through it unscathed. Joseph is even more hands-on than usual, and his cologne (bergamot and citrus, if Barclay has his scents right) hasn’t had a chance to fade. The most distracting element of the whole morning is his friend’s voice; there’s an edge to it, like a knife in a velvet sheath, and Joseph gives fewer suggestions and more orders.

Barclay wants him to sound like this forever. But only if he can rearrange his life so that he can follow every command.

After a very cold shower, he falls in next to Joseph as they push through the double doors into the warm night. When he reaches his car, the other man touches his cheek.

“Drive safe, big guy.”

He wonders if Joseph can feel him blush in the dark, “I will, agent. I promise.”

-----------------------------------------

“I told them to get those dark spots checked” Joseph shakes his head at the notice on the door informing them the gym will be closed for the next two weeks to repair massive water damage in the ceiling.

“I’m just bummed I won’t get to work out with you. It’s not as fun alone in my apartment.”

“You could come over to mine, if we can find a time where it works.”

“I’d love to.”

Barclay double checks that the address on the apartment in front of him matches the one Joseph sent, while trying not to fixate on the text that came with it.

Joseph: Be ready, big guy, I’m going to work you hard

He knocks on the designated door, pushes it open when Joseph calls for him to come in. There’s a yoga mat on the floor and a stationary bike in the corner, and far too little space for two grown men to work out together.

“Do you want me to help move the couch? That might give us...more...room.”

Joseph, in his full suit and dress shoes, leans against the kitchen doorway with a confident smile.

“Y-you’re not working out with me, are you?” Barclay’s hopes hurry to the front of his brain, tripping up his tongue.

“No. I did mine earlier today.” He runs a finger along Barclay’s chest, “I designed a special one, just for you. If you get through it all, you get a reward.”

“What kind?”

Joseph leans in to kiss him softly and swiftly, “I’ll let you fuck me.”

Barclay’s hands fly out to grips his shoulders as he groans, “fuck, babe, really?”

“Really. But first, you have to pick two things from this list.” He hands Barclay a sheet of memo paper with a neatly written list of the lewdest exercises he’s ever seen. He’d offer to do all of them, but then he might not have enough energy to enjoy his reward.

“The, uh, the push ups and the crunches.”

Joseph raises an eyebrow expectantly.

“Please?”

“Okay, big guy, we’ll do those. Get on the mat, push up position.”

Barclay hurriedly obeys. Freshly shined shoes step onto the top edge of the mat.

“We’ll just do thirty today. I’ll count. Ready?”

He nods.

“Good boy. Down, one”

Barclay bends his elbows, only stopping when his lips touch the top of Joseph’s shoes. He holds there a two-count, then rises.

“Down, two.”

He repeats the motion, keeps time with Joseph’s count as a hint of polish curls into his nose. It should be boring, maybe even degrading, but fuck him if it isn’t the hottest fucking thing he’s done in years. Joseph is so put together, so poised, Barclay feels like an unkempt beast next to him in his gym clothes. Yet he’s letting him kiss his lovingly shined shoes, telling him he’s a good boy as he works up a sweat.

“Down, thirty.” Joseph joins him on the floor as Barclay sits back on his heels, “well done. Now, on your back please.”

Barclay lays down. Joseph grabs a silver item from the side table and holds it in front of him. It takes his lust-glazed brain a second to grasp it’s a cock cage.

“Can I put this on you? You’ll have to wear it the rest of the workout.”

“Ohfuckplease.”

Joseph leans forward enough to kiss his chest, then shifts his shorts down to his thighs and locks the cage into place.

“If you need to stop, just say red. Okay?”

He nods frantically.

“Okay?” Joseph repeats with a stern look.

“Okay.”

“Good boy.” Joseph lifts his legs and sets them over his left shoulder. Barclay whimpers as there’s a snap of a latex glove and a pop of lube. Joseph smirks as Barclay whines at his teasing touches.

“Two sets, forty each. Go ahead and count in your head.”

“Okay” He curls his body, only gets through two more crunches before a finger presses in. “fuck!”

“Focus, big guy.” Joseph kisses his knee.

“I am, I’m focusing on the fact you’re a fucking genius.”

“If you lose count, you’ll have to start over” he presses in the second finger, “and that means longer until your reward.”

“I’m, I’m on twenty!”

A kiss to his calf, “Keep going.”

By the time he hits the second “forty” his legs are burning and Joseph is stretching his ass open with three fingers. He pulls them free but keeps Barclays legs in place, tugs the glove off and removes a blue, silicone plug from his jacket pocket . It slides in comfortably, but Barclay whimpers his name all the same.

“You’re doing so well Barclay. Are you ready to keep being my good boy?”

“Yes, please yes.”

Joseph sets his legs on the floor, guides him to his knees so he can pull his shorts up, and then helps him to his feet, pausing to kiss him sweetly and run his lips along his neck.

“Twenty minutes on the bike. Whatever speed you like.”

Barclay eases himself onto the seat, starts pedaling and watches longingly as Joseph heads into the kitchen saying he'll be back in a minute. The plug isn’t too uncomfortable to sit on, so this should be a breeze.

He hunches forward with a moan as it starts vibrating. Joseph strides back into the room, remote control in hand, only stopping to give Barclay another kiss and run his fingers through his hair before dropping onto the couch.

“Let me know when you’re done.” He picks up a copy of Empire and starts reading, heedless of Barclay’s increasingly loud moans.

The vibrator starts and stops, sometimes a gentle buzz and sometimes a furious pulse, and Barclay fights to keep the pedals going under the onslaught, desperate not to lose time and eager to please the man stealing tender, hungry glances at him from the couch.

“Time” He gasps, pulling his feet free from the pedals. Joseph is up and to him before his legs have a chance to wobble. Once he’s on the couch, shirt soaked with sweat, Joseph straddles him and kisses him demandingly, mouth moving from lips to cheek to neck without a care for sweat.

“Will you be a good boy and let me get off on you?”

“You know I fuckin will, fuck, babe, wanna be so fuckin good for youAH, ohgod” He throws his arms around Joseph, clinging and groping as he grinds on the cage and the aching cock within it.

“You look so good like this big guy, exhausted and obedient for me.”

“Yes, yesyes all for you, Joseph, please cum on me.”

“I will baby, don’t worry.” He brushes their lips together, “do you want some more kisses while I do.”

“Uhhuh” He whines, the noise only growing as Joseph kisses him and works his hips recklessly, his hands slipping up Barclays shirt to squeeze his pecs and toy with his nipples. When the tempo of his jerking hips changes, Barclay holds him tighter, needing to feel the way his body tenses and shudders as he cums more than he’s needed anything in his life.

“There” Joseph grins, panting, and pulls the key to the cage from his breast pocket, “now you can have your reward.” He slides to the floor, yanking Barclays shorts with him on the way. The cock cage hits the carpet and then a wet, enthusiastic mouth swallows him almost to the root.

“Ohfuck, Joseph, babe I’m gonna cum in like two seconds you, you might wanna-”

The agent pulls off, lazily licking the head, “I don’t want cum on the carpet, big guy. So be a good boy and cum down my throat.”

He gets exactly three and a half ecstatic thrusts into Joseph’s mouth before his orgasm knocks the breath from him and he cums, moaning out thanks as he does. When he’s spilled the last of it, Joseph sits back, breathing deep and wiping his lips.

“J-joseph? Will you, uh, will you kiss me again?”

The other man clambers into his lap, bitter taste on his tongue when Barclay glides his own against it. When he finally stops to breathe, Joseph pets his beard.

“Was all that okay?”

“So fucking okay. It was incredible. I, I feel so fucking good. Sweaty, but good.”

A kiss on the cheek, “Shower is just down that hall. Go get clean while I order dinner.”

“Okay.” Barclay looks at him with dreamy hope, “do you, uh, wanna do this again sometime?”

“Often. If, um, if that’s okay with you?”

Barclay nods, “as long as we can still work out together? I like doing that with you.”

“Of course, big guy.”

#sternclay #agent stern/ barclay #meet ugly #trans agent stern #taz amnesty

17 notes · View notes

katehuntington · 4 years

Text

Title: Ride With Me (part twenty two) Fandom: Supernatural Timeline: 2008 Pairing: Dean x Reader Word count: ±7650 words Summary series: Y/N is a talented horse rider who is on her way to become a professional. In order to convince her father that she deserves the loan needed to start her own farm, she goes to Arizona for six months, to intern at a ranch owned by Bobby and Ellen Singer. Her future is set out, but then she meets a handsome horseman, who goes by the name of Dean Winchester. A heartwarming series about a cowboy who falls for the girl, letting go of the past and the importance of family. Summary part twenty two: Y/N is about to take the stage together with her horse Meadow, but stage fright is making it very difficult to bring the evening to a successful end. Warnings series: NSFW, 18+ only! Fluff, angst, eventually smut. Swearing, smoking, alcohol intoxication, alcohol abuse. Mutual pining, heartbreak. Crying, nightmares, childhood trauma. Description of animal abuse, domestic violence, mentions of addiction. Financial problems, stress, mental breakdown. Description of blood and injury, hospital scenes, character death, grief. Music: Opening scene: First Defeat - Noah Gundersen, Meadow’s freestyle: Stairway To Heaven, Immigrant Song, Whole Lotta Love - Led Zeppelin. Follow ‘Kate Huntington’s Ride With Me playlist’ on Spotify! Author’s note: Thank you @atc74, and @winchest09 for helping me. Also a special thanks to @jules-1999, who has offered me her knowledge about rodeo events like these, and @squirrelnotsam, who knows Arizona like the back of her hand.

Ride With Me Masterlist

Y/N dips the sponge foaming with leather soap in a small bucket of water, and softly moves it in circles over the gullet of Meadow’s cognac colored saddle. Making sure to get into the little curves and edges of the beautifully decorated piece of craftsmanship, she picks up an old toothbrush and gently sweeps the dirt out of the grooves; it’s one of the older tricks in the book.

The maintenance does a lot of things besides calm the mind. It keeps the material supple, stops it from tearing, therefore saddles and bridles last longer. The leather will be soft on the horse’s coat and prevent sores and irritation of the skin. Clean and shiny tack says a lot about a person. They are usually precise, provident, and have a keen eye for detail. Often perfectionists who leave nothing to chance. Y/N is such a person.

Dean watches her, adoration on his features. She hasn’t spotted him yet, too focused on the chore. His hands are buried in the front pockets of his jeans while he leans against the door of the makeshift tack room, where she’s working in silence. He notices how loose hairs have escaped her french braid, how she bites her lip while concentrating. He notices the black smear on her cheek, her hands grimy from the mixture of soap and dirt coming from the saddle. He notices all those little things, and all else he loves about her.

There might be a soft smile on his lips, but his eyes give away how much his heart is hurting. He hasn’t been able to ban the haunting words from his thoughts, nor the realization that came with it; no matter how much time he puts between the past and present, he can’t outrun those dark days. The troubled cowboy wishes he could tell her, but he doesn’t want to drag his girl into this. She would pity him, be disgusted. She would run as far away as she could, and he wouldn’t even blame her if she does just that. The fact that he is unable to be truthful, has him doubt everything they have accomplished. How can he ask her to trust him, when he can’t be honest with her? When he doesn’t even trust himself?

Y/N rises from the small stool to get a cloth from her tack box in order to polish the saddle, when she notices a figure from the corner of her eye. For a second she startles, but then realizes it’s her boyfriend. “How long have you been standing there?” she chuckles. “For a little while,” he admits, the corner of his mouth pulling into a slightly bigger smile. “Didn’t mean to creep you out.” “Don’t worry, you didn’t. Fergus MacLeod on the other hand…” Y/N comments, squirting some shine cream on the cloth.

Before she returns to her stool again to finish the dirty job, Dean steps closer and takes her hand. Desperate for her to ground him, he lets his fingers trace her stained knuckles, taking the cleaning product from her and putting it aside. He focuses on their hold and keeps quiet, being more tentative than conversational. “Dean?” Her voice is laced with confusion and worry, and when he looks up, he sees that her eyes match the warm sound. Willing to do anything to take those concerns away, he cups her face and gently pulls Y/N closer. His lips catch hers, sweetly at first. Dean cherishes the moment when she melts into his touch, deepening the kiss. It doesn’t unsettle him when she unwinds her fingers from his, because he can feel his cowboy hat leave his head, those same fingers now running through his short hair.

Dean takes his time, eyes closed and his long lashes brushing against her cheek. He draws her in, moving his hand up her side as if he’s afraid she might slip away at any moment. There’s a hint of distress in the way he is kissing her, even though she can tell he is trying to hide it. Knowing that now is not the time to question his reasoning, she gives him what he needs so hopelessly. After a long, intimate minute, in the shelter of the small tack room, Dean parts from her. Y/N hopes to see a smile, but his eyes remain closed as he presses his forehead against hers.

“What’s going on?” she encourages, gently. “Nothin’. I’m alright,” he claims, but when she raises her eyebrows at him knowingly, he gives her an explanation, even though it’s not the whole truth. “Fergus MacLeod got under my skin with the way he spoke to you, is all.” “Oh, you mean the pet names?” She scoffs, shaking her head at the memory. “I wouldn’t read into it. He’s an Englishman; they address women like that.” “Still…” Dean rubs the pad of his thumb over her cheek, wiping away the grease. He is beginning to find his footing again. “I’m the only one who gets to call you that.” “And you think I’m the jealous one,” Y/N jokes. “You never call me ‘darling’ or ‘love’ anyway.” He grins at her mockery, especially when she overdoes the accent. His eyes are still sincere as ever. “Because you’re my Yankee,” he says softly.

Her smile becomes brighter, her nickname rolling from his tongue usually having that effect. And for just a second, Dean forgets about all the worry in the world. He kisses her once more, short and sweet this time, daring to take a hold of her gaze now that his mask fits again. “You stood your ground when that stuck up made that offer on Meadow,” he compliments. “You basically told him to go fuck himself. That was pretty badass.”

Shyly, Y/N shrugs. To her it didn’t cost her an ounce of bravery or willpower. She has gotten offers on her horse before, although never one this high. But Fergus could offer a billion, there is no way in hell she will ever let Meadow go. “She’s priceless, Dean,” the cowgirl explains, simply. “I wouldn’t trade her for the world.” “I know,” her boyfriend acknowledges. “All I’m saying is that many would have considered it. The fact that it’s not even an option for you, just shows how much she means to you.” He pauses, admiring the strong minded woman before him. “She’s your soul horse.” “My what?” Y/N recalls, curiously.

Dean chuckles, realizing that it’s not a widely known term. It was Ellen who told him about the special bond between human and horse, when he was younger. It became something that always stuck with him, words he never forgot. “Every equestrian comes across that one horse in their life. The one that stands out from all the others, that captures you, takes up a huge space in here.” He taps two fingers on his chest, right where his heart is. “The one you have this unbreakable bond with, who you trust and trusts you. The one you will never forget,” he explains. “That’s your soul horse.”

Y/N begins to glow, because every word he spoke sounds familiar. Dean is right; Meadow is her soul horse. “I like that,” she says, thinking about his words for a second.

Content, she moves past Dean to pick up the polish, in order for her to return to the task she needs to finish. “What else did the snobby Brit have to say?” she wonders, sitting back down on her stool, beginning to rub the cream onto the horn and the pommel of the saddle. “He bought Jovi and Ringo, actually,” the cowboy elaborates, turning to the side to check out the perfectly clean bridle hanging from the tack box door. He’s giving himself something to focus on, feeling the soft leather under his fingers. “Did he! That’s great, right?” she checks, noticing that her boyfriend isn’t exactly thrilled about the matter. Dean glances at her, forcing a smile. “Yeah, the money is certainly welcome.” “I bet Bobby is pleased,” Y/N assumes, wiping down the saddle one last time before she puts the cover back on. “Did he say anything about our dance last night?” “He didn’t. I think he’s lettin’ it slide.” Dean shrugs. “He’s not someone to discuss this kinda stuff anyway, so I’m guessin’ no word about it is good.” Y/N is willing to accept his reasoning. “Well, alright. If you’re sure it won’t get you into trouble.” “I doubt it, and even if he’d give me a hard time, it’s worth the lecture.” Dean chuckles, glancing down at his boots. “Fergus made another business proposition, too.” The cowgirl gets up and lifts the heavy saddle from its stand, carrying it to the tack box and storing it away. “What’s that?” “He wants me to train one of his horses,” he tells her. Her eyes grow wide as she shuts the door. “A stallion? Dean, that’s huge!” The wrangler chuckles at her enthusiasm. “It’s just the one.”

“Do you realize that this could be the start of something very rewarding? He owns stables full of licensed stallions. It might be a great stepping stone. I mean, look at Jovi and Ringo; they were sold from under you before you could really shine with them,” Y/N brings to mind. “Riding a talented horse for an owner who has no desire to sell because of the money already coming in with stud fees, is really good for you. This could become your big break.”

Dean hasn’t even looked at it that way, but he guesses it’s why his girlfriend is so good in her field. She always thinks five steps ahead, seeing opportunities where another person would just see a lot of work. He remains realistic, though, not wanting to celebrate too quickly. “Well, apparently Cain is a handful, so we’ll see how it goes.” “Wait… Cain?” She was already staring at him in astonishment, but now her jaw almost drops to the floor. “As in the Quarter sired by Dual Ray. The one that went for 1.2 million at the Derby auction?! Shut up!”

“Someone watched the news.” Dean grins, the sight of her girlfriend so perplexed being quite amusing. “But, yeah. He’s arriving at the ranch next week. Depending on how bad his behavioral problems are, he’s staying or leaving. I have a feeling MacLeod isn’t telling the whole story.” “Well, even if Cain’s issues are worse than Fergus let on--” She steps closer, slipping her arms around his neck. “- if anyone can fix him, it’s you.”

The confidence she has in him astonishes the cowboy. He doesn’t deserve it, her never ending support, her faith. Even now, all he’s doing is bullshitting his way through this exchange. He hopes to God Y/N doesn’t pick up on his insecurities, because maybe if she doesn’t, they can stay in this bubble for a little while longer.

Another kiss is pressed on his lips and for just that moment, Dean forgets about the demons that so often torment his mind. Unable to resist her even if he tries, the cowboy reels her in. He can sense his Yankee smile against his mouth and he can’t help to copy her expression. When he can feel her weaken in his hold, however, it is quickly replaced with a look of concern. “You okay?” he asks apprehensively, his grip on her firmer to make sure she doesn’t go down, but thankfully she steadies. “Yeah, just a little lightheaded.” Y/N takes a breath. “I’m fine.” “Did you eat today?” Dean requires, both stern and worried. “No,” she admits. “I can’t eat before a competition. Nerves and all.” “Are you kiddin’ me? You’re not up until 8 PM!” he returns, not having any of it. “Yankee, You gotta eat. I’ll buy you somethin’.” “I wouldn’t be able to take even one bite, Dean. Don’t bother. I’ll have an energy drink before I get on Meadow.” “Oh, hell no. You can’t do your run while low on fuel,” her boyfriend decides, carefully letting her go when he’s sure she has found her balance again. “How about yoghurt? Or some fruit? Did that really just come out of my mouth?” Y/N snorts when she notices the double take at his own suggestions, his nose wrinkling in revulsion, as if he just said something vile and doesn’t even know himself anymore. “Would a smoothie work? I saw a stand by the arena,” Dean offers. She shrugs, appreciating his efforts and not wanting to deny him. “I could try.” “Alright.” He leaves a quick kiss on her mouth and picks up his hat, before he intends to leave the tack room. In the doorway he turns around, his body language showing confusion, yet his eyes sparkle. “I never in my life thought I was gonna say this, but I’m gonna buy a smoothie,” he announces, before shooting her a wink and disappearing. Y/N laughs now, shaking her head at his comical ways. Bless him, at least he’s trying.

7.00 PM. Y/N is back in the tack room where she spent most of her morning cleaning her gear. When there was absolutely nothing left to polish, every bit of brass on her saddle and bridle shining so bright it could quite possibly blind the judges once in the arena, she tried to distract herself another way. She did manage to consume the smoothie her boyfriend brought her, though, much to his delight. It helped, because the dizziness has passed, but a stress headache remains. She sat down for lunch with Benny, Jo and Dean, although she didn’t eat anything. Conversation moved past her like the Arizona autumn breeze that’s blowing across the show grounds.

Afterwards, she assisted Dean with his last ride of the day, this time in the ‘working cow horse’ class, which is a fun combination between reining and managing cattle. After feeding the horses and providing them with water, the crew went to the arena to watch some runs. It only triggered restlessness in her heart that seemed impossible to calm, and it didn’t take long before she returned to the stable. She spent some time with Meadow, her dance partner tonight, simply sitting in the corner of her box, watching the beautiful animal chew on her hay, completely at ease with her owner’s presence.

Now, it’s time to prepare herself. Meadow is already tacked up, waiting in her stall until Y/N is ready, one hind hoof resting on its toe, preserving energy. It’s like the animal knows, since she normally is quite impatient, but right before a competition, she prefers to nap on her feet. It’s a huge contrast to her human, who has trouble controlling her anxiety. The smoothie she had earlier is bubbling inside Y/N, her stomach unsettled. Trying to calm herself by making sure that everything is perfect, she goes through the familiar checklist in her head while the soundtrack of her freestyle plays on her phone.

Dean helped her work out the new routine, thankfully. After setting the bar way too high in her first draft, almost making herself cry when she realized just how impossible it was, he suggested more simple lines, but combinations of the patterns. This is supposed to kick up the degree of difficulty without the floorplan being a tangled mess, and highlights Meadow’s strengths. What she had to figure out next, was what kind of music she wanted to ride to.

Her boyfriend contacted Ash, who was more than willing to edit the tunes for the intern. When she offered Dean the idea, she knew it was a hit when she saw his eyes twinkle. They took the request to the former ranch hand, who went to work and knocked it out of the park. Honestly, a part of Y/N cannot wait to ride her new freestyle, but she’s also downright petrified. What if she screws up? What if she forgets her routine? What if she doesn’t nail it, with Congress only two weeks away? What if she fails?

Everything is ready, all she needs to do is change into her show outfit. Y/N strips down, switching her blue jeans and plaid shirt for black. The back of her button up is decorated with golden studs in the shape of a guitar, and so are the cuffs and shoulders. During a freestyle the rider is allowed to ‘dress up’ and add elements in the arena, make a show of it. Although she’s not a fan of the whole circus act, and much rather prefers to let her performance do the talking and convincing, she wasn’t resenting the idea Ash offered when they listened to the soundtrack. Ellen helped her sow on the miniature pyramid-shaped beads, and the end result is better than Y/N could have hoped for.

The focused competitor slips into her onyx chaps which she just took out, and laces the leather strap through the belt loop of her jeans. She then continues to unpack her cowboy boots, which are the same color as Meadow’s fiery brown tack, shining just as bright. Her brass spurs follow, the rowel jingling when she turns to take a round box from the top, unzipping the lid. The beautiful Milano hat inside has her smile down on the crafted head piece; it was a Christmas gift from her parents. One she received right before her first show with the Quarter mare, the horse who gives her so much more than she could ever hope for. She picks it up by the crown and places it on her smooth hair which Jo braided earlier, the action raising a sense of pride in her chest. The hat makes the outfit, but it comes along with so much more. It gives back some of the confidence her insecurities took away. She’s a cowgirl, in heart and soul.

Last but not least, she takes an object from the same container that safeguarded the Milano. Reminiscing, Y/N draws her thumb over the gold plated metal, feeling the edges of the letters and symbols under her fingertip; it’s her State Championship belt buckle. She closes her eyes, the memories of that epic run flooding her thoughts welcomingly. The stadium spotlights, the roaring crowd, her name in bright letters on the scoreboard. And then that indescribable feeling of horse and rider becoming one, the thrill of coming down that centerline and just knowing that this was going to be their moment, the ride of their lives. She will be in seventh heaven if she manages to get even remotely close to the pinnacle they reached that day.

Footsteps draw her back to reality, the dry ground crunching under heavy boots in the alleyway between the stables. Y/N doesn’t question who it is, Dean promised to help her with the warmup, and since she has stated in her very detailed schedule that she is going to get on her horse ten minutes from now, she is expecting his arrival. Turning around, she meets his astonished gaze in the doorway, his jaw slightly ajar. “Do you think I’d be showing off if I wear this?” she wonders, offering him a look at the coveted buckle.

But Dean only has eyes for a different prize. He needs a moment to recover from the sight of his girlfriend. She’s drop dead gorgeous after a morning muck out, with hay in her messy locks and dust sticking to her damp skin. But now, dressed in her black show outfit, her hair braided and her make-up bringing out the color of her eyes even more, he can’t help but stammer. He chuckles warmly, a blush on his cheeks. “You look - you look amazing.”

His reaction draws a smile on her lips, but she’s too anxious to really appreciate the compliment. There is a time schedule to be considered after all. “My State Champion buckle, or a simple one?” she asks him again, not daring to make the call herself. Dean takes the shiny object, tilting it to admire the award. ‘AQHA State Champion - Maine, 2008’ it says, the inscription curved around a horse’s head, edged in silver and gold. “Wear it,” he decides. “You won that championship fair and square.” “Yeah, I know, it’s just that--” She pauses, fiddling to close the buttons on her cuffs. “I don’t wanna fail to meet everyone's expectations.” The cowboy looks up at her from under his lashes, his green eyes reading her for a second. “Everyone’s expectations? Or your own?”

Dean has a solid point, but evaluating thought processes is not something she needs right now. She sighs and tries to bury her frustrations, very much aware that she snaps easily when she’s on edge like she is now. It wouldn’t be the first time that she loses her cool with someone who is actually there to support her, it usually being either her parents or her brothers. She doesn’t want her boyfriend to endure the same unreasonable behavior, and so she shrugs at that. “I don’t know, really. I mean, yes, I expect a lot from myself, but the thought that people on the sideline, like Bobby, Jody, Donna… you, will judge my every move,” she pauses, letting an anxious sigh fall from her lips. “It honestly makes me feel sick.”

“You shouldn’t let it get to you like that,” Dean suggests, handing her back the buckle. “Yeah, well, that’s easier said than done,” she returns, the edge of her voice much sharper than she meant to come out. While pulling her belt through the loops, she briefly looks up, noticing his head cocked back slightly while his brows meet his hairline, which triggers her to mutter an apology. “Sorry.”

He can see the embarrassment in her stance as she turns her gaze to the floor. The slight offense he took desolates, making room for sympathy. He can tell she’s struggling to cope with the nerves and the pressure she is under, pressure she shouldn’t even be experiencing. This competition is a practice run, an environment to test her new freestyle and get back into the rhythm of the shows after a long break. However, he understands that downgrading this event will not do her any good. What he needs to convince her of, is to believe in herself, like he believes in her.

“Yankee, you’re never gonna fail my expectations. The way I see you doesn’t stand or fall with this performance, or any.” He takes her hands in his, squeezing them softly in order to prevent her from getting lost in that dark forest of negative thoughts. “I get that you want to prove yourself, but it ain’t necessary. The girls already love you, and the fact that Bobby didn’t rip me a new one for kissing you last night proves a point too. All that won’t change after today’s run.”

Carefully, Y/N glances up, met by the sight of empathy swimming in mystic green eyes. “I’m here to back you up, okay? I’ll help you with the warm up, and Jo will be there to assist. It’s gonna be fine. Your horse is awesome, your freestyle is awesome, you are awesome,” he reassures, a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. “Now get your fine butt on that horse.” She takes a slow breath, the smile that his words surface saying just how much that means to her. “Alright. Let’s do this.”

With Meadow’s bridle in hand, she exits the tack room, feeling somewhat lighter than she did ten minutes ago. Dean’s kind words and endless support doesn’t take away the anxiety entirely, but it has enough of an effect to have her believe that maybe, just maybe, she is going to survive this evening. At least he is by her side, not just as her man, but as her trainer as well, and with the way he has been with her so far, she can already tell how different he is from her former instructor. No list of exercises she needs to go through during the warm up, no ‘do this’ or ‘don’t do that’ while she’s preparing to get on her horse. It’s a huge contrast, but one for the better. Maybe Dean is right, maybe it is going to be fine.

Dean looks up when he notices someone approaching from the corner of his eye, the small framed silhouette with a dancing ponytail unmistakably Jo’s. She has a bucket half full with water in one hand with a sponge floating on the surface, a rag hanging from her back pocket and a groom bag over her shoulder. “You ready, sis?” she asks, popping her head over the stable door. “Ready as I’ll ever be,” Y/N sighs, tightening the sinch. “You’re gonna do great. Especially with your lover whispering in your ear.” She hands them both a headset, one with a small microphone for Dean and one with an earpiece for her best friend. “Keep it clean, no heavy breathing. The poor girl needs to stay focused.”

The cowboy glares at his cousin, but he bites his tongue, simply because the comment made his girl let out a laugh. Instead he turns on the small device and pushes it in his pocket, secures the mic to the collar of his shirt. Y/N clips the headset behind her belt as well and pushes the bud into her ear. After holding the bit in front of Meadow’s mouth for her to accept, her owner pulls the crown piece of the bridle over her horse’s ears, securing the straps. Focused on her task at hand, she notices a crucial element missing. “Crap, Grandpa’s pendant,” she realizes, pushing the reins into Jo’s hand before rushing back into the tack box.

A moment later, she returns with a small suede bag in her hand, from which she carefully allows a piece of jewelry to roll into her hand. Curious, Dean watches her pick it up between her delicate fingers, after which she attaches it to Meadow’s bridle. Two beads are laced onto a thin leather cord, and the way she handles the small yet precious object, he can tell it holds much value. “Is that your good luck charm?” Jo wonders. “Yeah,” the rider acknowledges, taking back the reins from her friend and leading Meadow out of the stable. “My grandfather gave it to me on my very first show when I was seven.”

Y/N has never ridden a test without the jewel, and she can’t picture doing so in the future. The top bead is made from her birthstone, the one dangling underneath represents a guardian angel. While taking her horse outside, she rubs Meadow’s neck, tracing the charm for a second as the setting sun catches the gem. Before she had to say goodbye to the most influential person in her life, she never really pictured anyone when she saw the little figure with wings dangling from Meadow’s browband, but now she likes to think it is him, watching over her.

A couple of minutes later, Y/N has taken a seat on Meadow’s back, who excitedly walks towards the warm up area with Dean and Jo in tow. Flanked by her trainer on her right side and her groom on the left, a hint of relief hits the cowgirl unexpectedly; she has never been surrounded by a team this solid.

The horse and rider enter the side arena, where a dozen others are warming up in what seems to be a whirlwind of sensories. Music reaches Y/N’s hearing, coming from the competition ring and mixing with loud cheers of the spectators. Trainers shout at their pupils from the sideline, the steward calling for the next on the list. In her first loop in a simple walk, someone cuts her off and Meadow pins her ears back, clearly not at ease in the chaos.

“Can you hear me?” Dean asks through the headset, leaning over the fence of the training field. The familiar warm yet gruff sound in her ear silences the distractions that have her dizzy in an instance. She looks over her shoulder at the head wrangler, nodding in response. “Okay, good. Warm her up like you would do so at home. Try to seek a space where it’s not too crowded, you don’t have to use the entire area,” Dean advises, calmly. “Just focus on my voice, alright? Take a deep breath and focus on me.”

Y/N closes her eyes for a short second and collects herself, doing precisely what he tells her to do. Throughout the warm up he never underlines what she’s doing wrong, but praises her for every right move, building her confidence. For a short period of time it has her wondering if he’s sugarcoating and isn’t giving it to her straight, but minute by minute, she finds it easier to let go of that thought. His encouraging words manage to cast away the fear of screwing up, and before she knows it, she has forgotten about the other riders in the arena, nor does she notice her distracting surroundings. All she hears is his soothing vocals, all she feels is the large animal underneath her, who seems to respond well to their trainer too. Meadow might not be able to hear Dean, but apparently senses the tension oozing from her rider, and becomes more relaxed with every stride.

It’s five minutes until her starting time, when Y/N halts by the fence, next to Jo and Dean. Her friend and groom for the day takes her cue and approaches her with the bucket, wiping down Meadow’s sweaty skin with the sponge, cleaning the mare up before it’s her time to shine. Y/N takes out her ear buds, since she’s not allowed to compete with them, and hands the headset to Jo, trading it for a water bottle. “She feels good, doesn’t she?” Dean checks, smiling up at her while he takes the plastic flask from his student. The woman in the saddle nods. “She does.”

“Y/N Y/L/N! Two minutes!” The rider feels the nerves find their traction again when she glances at the steward who called out her name. She nods in acknowledgement at the man holding a clipboard, and when Jo is done toweling Meadow down, she steers the Quarter towards the entrance of the main arena. The applause that the previous competitor receives grows louder as they approach, meeting the rider on their way over. He seems very pleased with his horse, and the first thing that comes to her mind is that he must have had a good score, a score she needs to beat. The serene mindset the wrangler got her in, is threatened to be disturbed by the stage fright that grips her by the throat. Suddenly, it hits her; this is it.

“Hey…” Dean lays his hand on her knee when he detects that he’s losing her again. “Yankee?” The cowgirl snaps her gaze from the intimidating competition ground to her trainer, who meets her with the most relaxed expression he can muster, despite his worry about her current mental state. He can tell she’s downright scared, not to fall off her horse or anything, but to make a mistake, drop the ball and to have to leave the boxing ring defeated. Right now, the illuminated soil that is about to be her stage isn’t a dance floor to Y/N. No, her eyes tell him a different story, the one of a gladiator in a colosseum, being thrown into the pit for the lions, destined to be defeated, destined to fail.

“When you go in there, I need you to forget about everything,” he starts off, earning a confused look. “What do you mean?” she wonders. “Forget the judges, forget the audience, hell, forget what I’ve told you,” Dean continues, his thumb rubbing her leg soothingly. “The only one you need to listen to, is Meadow. Feel what she tells you and trust your gut when you answer. Let go of all the rest, alright?”

Y/N nods, wetting her dry lips, shooting another glance at the arena before she looks down on the man who has been able to ground her like only one other person has. Dean seems to know who is on her mind, because he reaches for the pendant attached to her horse’s bridle. “He’s with you, and I will be waiting right here, no matter what. You got this, Yankee.”

The encouraging words close off her throat much like the anxiety did earlier, but this time the sentiment is welcoming. Dean’s pep talk helped her see what is truly important, and that this moment is just a short clip of a larger motion picture. She has Meadow, she has Dean, and she has the memory of her grandfather, along with all the wise life lessons that he taught her. Whatever happens in the coming five minutes, that will not change. She trusts the beacon of support that is the man by her side. But in this very moment, most importantly, she trusts Meadow.

Y/N breathes in through her nose and exhales slowly, rubbing her horse’s shoulder, more confident than she has felt all week. The gatekeeper opens the fence for the horse and rider, nothing standing between them and the brightly lit competition ring.

“The next contestant of the evening is Y/N Y/L/N, all the way from Freeport, Maine. This young lady rides Meadowsweet, a nine year old mare sired by Gunner, and these two have made a name for themselves already. Folks, you are going to be watching the current State Champion and this pair has qualified for the prestigious All American Quarter Horse Congress in three weeks. This will be the premiere of their brand new freestyle, so get ready for a rock ‘n roll ride, y’all.”

Y/N peers into the grand arena, tilting her hat forward just enough to keep the spotlights from blinding her. She can feel Dean’s fingers slip from her knee, setting her free now that she has taken control. Focused and determined, the cowgirl makes eye contact with the sound technician, raising her hand. Showtime.

The first tones of Led Zeppelin’s Stairway To Heaven begins to play, and Y/N enters the arena slowly. The timid music silences the crowd, suspense hanging thick in the air. Meadow moves down the centerline and halts, her head low and submissive, waiting for her cue. The intro finishes, the acoustic notes dying down and leaving a second long silence. Knowing the music by heart, the woman in the saddle squeezes her fist holding the reins slightly, preparing Meadow for what is about to come. Then, right as Immigrant Song rings in her ears, she sends her Quarterhorse into a spin.

With high speed and great technique, the mare revolves on the spot like a helicopter rotor, and after going full circle four times stops dead in her tracks, before doing the exact same movement, only this time turning right. The crowd goes absolutely ballistic, and it’s then that Y/N feels a wide smile spreading on her face; she’s gonna nail this run.

One small aid is enough to push Meadow forward, the horse shooting down the centerline like an arrow leaving its bow. With only a few yards between the cowgirl and the judges, she sits back in the saddle, signalling Meadow to dig her hind legs into the ground and progress into an impressive sliding stop. It’s bold, because if the maneuver isn’t spot on, the panel will easily detect the error. The execution is perfect, however, and gathering from the entertained and impressed expressions on the judges’ faces, Y/N’s game plan is working.

With attitude, Meadow rolls back and races around the arena on a large circle, her long strides evenly powerful and rhythmic, this time to the soundtrack of Whole Lotta Love. With her left hand forward between the bay horse’s ears, the cowgirl peers down the path that’s to come, and after having gone full circle, she switches to a left canter through a flying change and mirrors the previous pattern.

The buzz ignited by both the thrilling ride and the response of the audience only fuels her confidence. When she exits the last full speed circle, she transitions into a lope, a collected gate Meadow masters well. The horse and rider combination crosses the arena through a neat half pass. It’s a sideways movement right in front of the judges, the talented mare showing off her reach and finesse.

Not once does Y/N have to correct her dancing partner, every small cue effective. Meadow follows the instructions without question, unable to give a damn about the vibrant ambiance. It’s almost as if the animal can read her owner’s mind, a telepathic connection which can only be established when human and horse have that click and share an unique bond. This is what horse riding is all about, this is the ultimate goal. Two hearts beating as one.

The music builds up to its zenith and shifts to the finishing electric guitar solo in Stairway To Heaven, by the same famous rock band that has been the backing track to this epic performance. On the diagonal, Meadow picks up speed again, her strong muscles rippling under her copper colored coat. The thousand pound being reaches a speed of forty-five miles an hour, accelerating until the opposite corner, where she performs another perfect stop followed by a roll back. There is not a speck of hesitation or doubt, nor any sign of fatigue, despite a sequential series of maneuvers.

After a third stop, she has executed the mandatory patterns, and all that’s left is to go out with a bang. Y/N sends Meadow into one final spin, the tremendous momentum having her dizzy. The sheer power radiating from under her only heightens the high the cowgirl is experiencing, the adrenaline coursing through her veins with the same speed as her horse is turning. After the rapid pirouettes, Meadow breaks off the maneuver on cue in the dead center of the arena, facing the judges. The cheering and whistling crowd almost overrules the dying sound of the guitar strings that are the last notes of the freestyle. Unable to comprehend what just happened, Y/N drops the reins, spreads her arms and folds them around her horse’s neck. Overcome with emotion she hugs her four-legged friend, without words thanking her for the ride of her life.

Only then the cowgirl realizes the roar coming from the spectators, many of them having risen to their feet. As the commentator praises her performance, she circles Meadow back toward the exit of the ring, waving at the enthusiastic kids on the first row. In that four minute run, Y/N and Meadow have stolen the hearts of everyone who is here to witness the definition of horsemanship. She can’t stop herself from smiling so widely that her cheeks hurt while her horse walks along the bleachers, the mare looking at the applauding audience, seeming to understand that it’s for her.

As they approach the gate, the rider hears one girl squeal above all others. Y/N hasn’t even looked in the direction of where the sound came from, but she already knows it’s Jo. Dancing on her feet in absolute delight, she meets her by the fence and high fives her best friend. “God damn, Sis! You rocked out there!” she exclaims, patting Meadow on her neck as well.

Y/N laughs full heartedly at her giddy friend, the ecstasy of her perfect run still in full effect. But when her gaze meets Dean’s, that happiness becomes overwhelming. The handsome cowboy is waiting for her, just like he promised. Gleaming eyes match his sly smirk, but there’s more to the expression, sentiment swimming in his emerald greens. The sight of him breaks something inside of her, and she’s unable to keep the tears at bay.

It’s then that Meadow halts, and just outside of the main arena, Dean steps towards his girl and pulls her into a hug. With her left hand still holding the reins, Y/N embraces the man who she owes so much gratitude. After all, if it wasn’t for him, the freestyle wouldn’t have turned out remotely as good, not to mention that the stress would have done her in. Today he was more than just a trainer or her boyfriend. He was the anchor that kept her grounded, the rock that wouldn’t budge when the waves crashed against her, and the sign that she needed to get out of the maze of self-doubt. She can feel Dean nuzzle his nose into her hair. “I’m so damn proud of you,” he whispers, words only meant for her to hear. Moved by his words, she hugs him a little tighter before she lets him go and wipes away her happy tears. A smile that reaches his ears is still there when she pulls herself together again. “She - she was absolutely amazing,” Y/N stammers, combing her fingers through Meadow’s mane. “The feeling she gave me… I can’t explain it. It was like we were flying.” “That’s because you were, Amelia Earhart,” Jo quips, clearly over the moon for her friend. “Want me to cool Meadow down so you can wait here for your score?”

Y/N nods, feeling her horse’s flanks expand rather rapidly every time the large animal inhales; she really gave it her everything. Once the cowgirl has both feet planted on solid ground, she scratches the mare’s favorite spot behind her ear, facing the beautiful Quarter. Meadow presses her large head against her owner’s chest, more to get rid of an itch than to return the love, making her human giggle. Then the rider hands over the reins to Jo, who takes the bay horse away from the commotion.

Still stunned, Y/N takes another breath, glancing back into the arena. “Did they call the points yet?” Dean comes to stand next to her, gazing at the board in the corner, above the bleachers. “No, I didn’t hear anything.” With her hands placed on her waist, she breathes in, trying to ignore her stomach, which begins to do backflips again. This time, there is not much she can do to influence the outcome, however. Meadow did the best she could and she didn’t make a single mistake; Y/N couldn’t have wished for more. But the new freestyle hasn’t been graded yet, so how the judges will reward the music and the degree of difficulty is still a mystery. The rider tries to tell herself that no matter what number will appear on the screen, she’s satisfied with today’s performance. But as seconds tick by, the suspense builds and eats at her composure.

She can feel Dean’s hand on the small of her back, fingertips tracing soft, calming circles. The motion helps her to pull her gaze away from the digital board, and she glances at the man by her side. Focusing on him has worked so far, so as the tension rises, she tries that tactic again. The world around her stops, her own breathing the only sound she hears, Dean’s touch the only sensation she feels. For a moment, time slows down. But when her trainer’s eyes widen and his jaw falls slack in disbelief, she’s almost too afraid to look at the definite white numbers that can make or break her evening.

It’s only when the crowd erupts that she dares to face the verdict, and what she witnesses, triggers her to clasp her hand over her mouth. Completely stunned, her eyes stay locked on the score, convinced that if she blinks, the numbers will change. She barely registers her boyfriend letting out a cheer, pumping his fists into the air and bouncing on his feet like a little kid. Her view is obstructed when strong arms wrap around her middle and lift her off the ground, but when her gaze locks on the display again, it still tells the same story of victory.

220.5 points.

Unknowingly, she holds her breath, her heart still beating against her chest so wildly, that her cowboy must be able to feel it too. It’s not just a personal best; it tops her old record by three whole points. She broke through the two-twenties, something she only ever dreamed of accomplishing, yet here she is. Shutting her eyes, her thoughts go out to her grandfather, realizing that she has done her guardian angel proud once more.

Dean must have sensed that she got lost in her own head, because he brings her back down from the heavens to their world with a gentle touch upon her cheek. He wipes a stray tear away with the pad of his thumb and takes off her hat, looking at her with so much adoration. His hand slips to the nape of her neck, his forehead bowing to gently rest against hers. Radiant light touches everything in reach, leaving what’s behind them in darkness, together with all the worries and fears. The audience doesn’t seem to be applauding the high score anymore, the wolf whistles and bellows of encouragement instead directed at the couple in the spotlight. Dean didn’t need any more motivation, his lips encasing hers in a soft kiss.

Closing her eyes, she cherishes the moment and smiles against his mouth when Dean uses her cowboy hat to shield them away from all the extra attention. It is in this instance the equestrian realizes something; out of all the rides that she experienced, either in the saddle or in life, this is the one that will go down in memory.

Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to like or reblog my work, shoot me a message or buy me coffee (Link to Kofi in bio at the top of the page).

Read part twenty-tree here

#Ride With Me #Cowboy!Dean #Dean x Reader #Supernatural AU #Dean Winchester #Supernatural #Supernatural fanfiction #Dean Winchester fanfiction

173 notes · View notes