#a quick fic I wrote a few months ago | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

laughing-with-god · 8 months

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These Things Take Time (Yandere! Supernatural! Taehyung x Reader)

Synopsis: There's something wrong with your boyfriend Taehyung. At least, you think it's him.

16.5k

Trigger warnings: yandere behavior, psychological gaslighting, violence, gore, some heavy making out, strong language, AFAB reader (she/her) I'm sure I'm missing some but you know me and what I write lol

Authors note: just a real quick thank you to @bigbuffjoonie and @mustardpop for having beta read and brainstormed with me literally a year ago about this fic that I never published until now.

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He passionately thrusted her against the wall, mouthing at her neck while muttering disgusting things that he was going to do to her.

It was foul…

It was taboo…

It was…..

Your fingers paused and hovered over the keyboard, the constant clicking of your writing coming to a sudden halt.

Your eyes scanned the last few lines, lips instinctively mouthing the words and checking the overall flow of the plot.

Your two main characters were about to fuck each other’s brains out after a long ‘will they or won’t they’ that spanned well over a dozen chapters.

There should be a feeling of torture, a feeling of relief, a feeling of frenzied lust that just couldn’t contain itself anymore and combusted within the contents of these pages.

That is what you desperately wanted your loyal readers to experience when they get to this scene.

Yet when reading the long-awaited buildup, you felt nothing.

You cared for every character you created like a mother does their child, them getting their happy endings was just as important to you as it was to them. So why did you feel so numb and dissociated from everything you’ve been typing the past hour?

You released a disillusioned sigh and leaned back into your chair. Your eyes stung from staring at a screen for so long and your limbs ached to be stretched with hours of immobility.

Writer’s block was a bitch.

Unlike other skills, writing was one of the few expertise that working harder at it won’t guarantee a better outcome. You could type away until your fingers were bruised and bloody, but it doesn’t mean anything you wrote would be worth shit. Writing was a talent and it came and went as it pleased. And right now it was gone.

Which left you very depressed and your editor very pissed.

You gave up the fight and reluctantly closed your laptop. Then stood to your full height, to give your back a much-needed stretch.

‘I tried today. And that’s okay. I’ll try again tomorrow.’ You thought to yourself, half heartedly taking your therapist’s advice to acknowledge your efforts and not just the outcomes.

When in a creative slump, it has been said that reading other works can be a source of inspiration. Can’t be a good writer yourself, then go out and read a good writer. With this thought in mind, you slowly exited your office and descended down the stairs.

Last week your mom sent you a book she recommended, and you’ve been so busy trying to finish your own novel that you just tossed it somewhere and haven’t touched or looked for it since. Though, you were almost certain you caught sight of it on the coffee table yesterday.

When you stepped into the living room, you spotted a familiar figure standing by the large bay window.

The sight tugged a small fond smile onto your face.

Taehyung was your boyfriend of six months.

He was strikingly attractive, tall, kind and clearly didn’t know his own worth because not only was he dating you, but he also agreed to move into this secluded farmhouse while you tried to finish your book. He assured that he could use this time and space to focus on his paintings as well, but you knew deep down he just didn’t want to leave you alone out in the middle of nowhere.

Right now only his profile was facing you, his alluring feline eyes staring at the raining scene outside, dark brows furrowed in heavy thought. He looked to be biting on his lower lip, a habit you’ve never seen before, but you supposed you two have only been dating for a few months so there was probably a whole world of little quirks you didn’t know of yet.

The scene was a bit intense, as you weren’t used to your usually cheerful boyfriend looking so ponderous. Yet you shrugged it off and just assumed he was most likely brainstorming his next painting. Taehyung was your first artist boyfriend and your friends did warn you that they could be a bit dramatic.

You quickly surveyed the room and indeed located the book on the coffee table. While reaching for it you called out, “Hey love?”

Taehyung snapped his neck at a speed too fast for your liking, instantly facing you with eyes wide and blown out in what you could only assume was shock.

You giggled, thinking he was too absorbed in his own world that he probably just now noticed your presence.

“I know I said I wanted pasta for dinner but how about we order some chinese instead?” You asked. Taehyung didn’t say anything, eyes still wide in unknown revelation, entirely unmoving. You continued, “This weather makes me not want to do anything, and I know you complain about the delivery time but we could just reheat the food if it gets here cold.”

It seemed like forever but Taehyung eventually nodded.

He then turned to face the window again.

You inwardly sighed and guessed he wasn’t thrilled with the idea of chinese. He always complained that you didn’t take care of yourself and how you needed home cooked meals rather than greasy takeout. But when creatively burnt out like this, you tended to just reach for the doordash because the act of cooking seemed entirely too much for you.

Hoping to butter him up, you tipped toed from behind and wrapped your arms around him. You nuzzled your face into his back and took a deep breath, enjoying the familiar scent of his outrageously expensive cologne. His body seemed to melt into your hold, tense posture suddenly limp and calm.

You reached up and pecked his cheek, grinning when you caught sight of his lips twitching upwards. Harmless manipulation complete, you trudged out the room with a lukewarm “Thanks honey!”

You skipped up the stairs and made a left into a hallway, quickly getting into the bedroom and preparing to plop into the heavenly crumpled mess of sheets and blankets, when an unexpected sound caused you to still.

The front door was opening.

Afraid of a possible home invasion, you rushed out to see what was happening.

The door was wide open and emerging into the home…was Taehyung.

His hair and jacket was drenched from the rain, four or so heaping grocery bags in his hold as he looked up the stairs at you with a tired smile.

“Hey baby, can you give me a hand with some of this? I got some sauce for the pasta and picked up some other stuff we were running low on.”

Time stood still.

Your jaw dropped in bewilderment.

Your mind struggling to process this odd collapse of reality.

The nearest grocery store was, at its quickest, still a twenty-minute drive into town.

There was just no way Taehyung was able to leave and get back in the same time it took for you to get up the stairs and into your room.

No one can be in two places at once.

What the fuck was going on?

You just saw him. You just talked to him. You just smelled him. You just touched him.

Taehyung’s gaze worriedly ran up and down your face, correctly detecting that something was dreadfully wrong. He kicked the door closed behind him and rather ungracefully dropped the bags, hastily stepping over some of the falling items to race up the steps and take you in his hold.

“Y/n? Baby what’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost! Did something happen while I was gone?” He fretted.

“I-w-what-you-j-just-living room…” You stammered, not even being able to bring yourself to voice what was happening.

“What? What about the living room? You’re not making any sense.”

You gulped, looking up at him with fear. “T-Tae, I could’ve sworn I just saw you in the living room. I talked to you.”

Your boyfriend’s face dropped.

“Y/n, get in the bedroom and lock the door behind you.”

You irritably huffed while blinking away oncoming tears, realizing Taehyung didn’t quite understand what you were saying. “No! Not like an intruder! It was you.”

“I’m right here Y/n. I just got back from the market. I haven’t been home in the past hour. There’s no way you just saw me in this house.” He slowly explained, as if you were having some mental breakdown and needed to be talked off the ledge.

Your temper rose. “No shit Kim Taehyung! That’s why I’m scared! Do you have a twin brother or something? Or did you come into the living room before going back to the car to get the groceries?”

Taehyung backed away from you, clearly put off by your outburst. “No? First off, you know I’m an only child. Secondly, why would I come in and let you talk to me before going back out in the pouring rain, bring in groceries and then pretend I have no idea what you’re talking about when you said you saw me in the house just now?”

You glared up at him, now feeling foolish for even being scared in the first place of something that most definitely had a logical explanation.

Your boyfriend always had a more playful side than you and this was most likely the first trick he was trying to play in your very young relationship.

“I told you I don’t like pranks, Taehyung. You can pull them on your friends all you want but you promised to never pull one on me.”

He threw his hands up in the air in exasperation. “I’m not pranking you! It probably was an intruder who looked kinda like me and instead of letting me go and investigate, you're arguing with me?”

“It wasn’t an intruder! He didn’t take anything!”

Taehyung laughed incredulously, “Great, you're defending some robber over your own boyfriend now? I almost feel jealous.”

“There’s nothing to be jealous over because the guy was you!” You exploded.

“Which isn’t possible!”

“Go look then!” You relented.

Taehyung didn’t need to be told twice. He swiftly ran down the stairs and went through the entire house, searching for an unseen man who managed to trick his girlfriend into thinking he was him.

He found no such person.

It was only while you both wordlessly unpacked the groceries while licking the wounds of your little spat did Taehyung make a point that chilled you to the bone.

“Y/n, when you saw me…how did I look?”

You raised a brow at him. “I don’t know? You looked just fine.”

“Okay…and your working theory is I parked outside and came in, talked to you, then went back out, just to enter through the front again like nothing happened?”

You meekly shrugged, “Yeah I guess that would be a good trick.”

Your clever boyfriend pointed at the window, where it was still raining heavily. “I would've been soaked then, Y/n.”

That was the first incident.

— Dinner that night was a tense affair.

At least until Taehyung solemnly apologized for being so bad at hiding his true identity.

He then fessed up to being the Korean version of The Flash.

Against yourself, you bursted out laughing.

Maybe it was all the anxiety of the day that made you loopy, or your desperate need to just return to normal but you apologized for snapping and blamed your overactive writer's imagination for everything.

Taehyung said it was okay and that you actually looked hot when angry, you knew for a fact you didn’t but took the compliment nonetheless and suggested an early night in.

And just like that your first couple fight was over.

Yet that night when you were in the arms of your slumbering boyfriend, with his peaceful snores rumbling in your ear, all you could think about was the other Taehyung.

You regretfully lied to your boyfriend.

You knew for a fact that it wasn’t your imagination.

You were never the type of writer who got so immersed in your work that you began imagining things and confusing them for reality. If anything, you were too grounded in reality. In addition to this, you highly doubted that multiple weeks of writer’s block would even allow for such a vivid mirage to occur.

And the most damning evidence of all, if it was your imagination…why would your mind conjure up the exact replica of your boyfriend? The very man you live with and see everyday for hours on end? Wouldn’t it be a character from your book? Or at least someone you haven’t seen in a while?

It all didn’t make sense, but you didn’t have enough information to say what it was, you just knew what it wasn’t.

You rolled over and buried your face into Taehyung’s chest, practically praying for the mystery to soon be over and solve itself quickly.

It was most likely the overthinking and looming dark corners of the bedroom, but you began to feel like someone was watching you through the small gap in your ajar bedroom door.

– A few days passed and you have almost forgotten about the incident.

I mean, maybe not entirely but you were at least willing to chalk it up to a freak incident.

Scrolling through some discussion boards online showed that your story was actually pretty tame to what other unexplainable experiences some people have had. At least the other Taehyung didn’t try to scare or hurt you. It just seemed like he was doing his own thing really, like he was lost in his own world staring out that window. Thus you concluded that you weren’t in danger, and it therefore wasn’t worth freaking out about.

Mainly because your editor was on your ass and there was nothing productive about thinking of him when you were already so late on a deadline.

Naturally, you attempted to throw yourself into your writing, which was proving to be as fruitless as ever. Yet you knew giving your editor anything was better than nothing, leading you to sending half-assed drafts to him and enduring long calls about how your writing was okay, but not great.

You and Taehyung have been off too.

There was no more fighting or even words exchanged about the fiasco. However there still was an uneasiness between you two. You doubted that Taehyung believed your imagination excuse, but you also knew that he didn’t trust your original recollection of events either. Your boyfriend sort of walked on eggshells around you, almost as if you’d somehow think he was the imposter whenever he’d step into the room. You would be lying if you said you weren’t a little offended by it.

Luckily, Taehyung was currently immersed with his art, rarely leaving his little workspace. You wished you could say the same but you felt like you were simply writing in circles without actually getting anywhere. It was hard to not be jealous, but at least you were given some space away from him after a rather unresolved fight.

Meanwhile, you were planning to take a day or two off of writing, to just let your mind wander and relax so that maybe the next time you sat behind a laptop you could actually produce something worthwhile.

Of course it would just so happen that it would fall on the very day you get sick.

Waking up that morning you felt feverish and lightheaded, telling yourself that you could just use fifteen more minutes of sleep and you’d probably feel better.

You woke up five hours later; feeling even more feverish, lightheaded, and now nauseous.

You trudged downstairs to the kitchen and popped back some painkillers with a glass of water, already fantasizing about getting back into your warm and comfy bed once again.

Except what could make your bed even warmer and comfier? Taehyung.

Your boyfriend was always the more affectionate one between you two, you often practically had to push him away when you were trying to get work done. But now that you were willingly going to ask for his affection, there was no way he’d let you go uncuddled.

Any awkwardness in the relationship was long forgotten as you stomped towards his workspace, a demand to be held heavy on your tongue. You were too sick and exhausted to try to navigate relationship politics, but the whole point of a boyfriend was that he was supposed to provide attention on demand, right?

You reached his door and feebly knocked, trying to be polite to his artistic process and not just barge in.

You heard some shuffling on the other side and soon enough your boyfriend was in front of you. Taehyung hadn’t shaved his face in days, a faint goatee gracing his already intimidatingly handsome face. His black hair was messy and fluffy, a gold chain gracing his neck and drawing attention to his lack of shirt and gray sweatpants.

He grinned at you, “What’s up baby?”

You pouted up at him, momentarily not even ashamed to resort to such cheap tricks, “I feel sick and want to be cuddled back to sleep.”

“Aww poor thing.” He crooned while leaning against the doorframe. “Why don’t you head back up to bed and I’ll be up as soon as I can? I just finished a sketch and really need to focus on the next few steps before I can quit for the day.”

You huffed, kind of annoyed that he wouldn’t even take a break to hold you.

He rolled his eyes at your reaction, “Don’t look at me like that, honey. When the muse strikes, I gotta paint. Otherwise I don’t know when I’ll get the next chance for inspiration. You understand, right?”

“Yeah, I’m just really crabby and being held sounded really good.”

Taehyung chucked, muttering to himself a “cute” before leaning forward and pecking your lips. “I promise I’ll try to be quick. Go drink some water and wait for me. I’ll bring you some soup when I’m done.”

You just nodded and left him to his work. Instead of the bedroom, your feet somehow led you to the living room.

Maybe you should watch some tv while Taehyung worked? You already slept a lot today and if Taehyung was gonna be in bed with you later, perhaps it was a good idea to stay up for a little bit. Besides, you’ve been avoiding this part of the house ever since the incident and you needed to get comfortable in your own living room eventually.

Such a reminder of that rainy day caused you to cast a wary glance at the bay window, oddly feeling both relief and annoyance that nothing was there.

You plunked down onto the couch and wrapped a throw blanket around you, searching your usual streaming services for some comfort show to watch.

It was halfway through an episode of some show you’ve already watched countless times, when you heard footsteps approaching.

You looked up and saw your boyfriend, looking as cute and messy as before. Except now he held a sheepish smile on his face as he held up a steaming mug of something.

“What’s that?”

He took a seat next to you and gently handed the drink over. “Hot chocolate. I know protocol is tea whenever someone is sick, but I know how much you hate the taste.”

You fondly smiled and took the mug, flustered that he remembered such a minor detail about you. “Thank you love but you didn’t have to. You should be focusing on your work. Don’t let me distract you!”

Taehyung shook his head and threw an arm around you, holding you tight against him. He craned his neck and looked down to you, almost meeting you nose-to nose to connect his gaze with yours. Suddenly a serious expression replaced his formerly sheepish one.

“Actually, I wanted to talk.” He said, taking a deep breath before continuing, “I-I wanted to say sorry.”

“For what?”

He licked his lips, “I know we’ve been kinda out-of-sync ever since you said you saw someone and I didn’t believe you. But, it just didn’t make sense. Like, how is that possible? Whatever the case though, I shouldn’t have made you feel like you were going crazy or something.”

You raised an eyebrow, “So you believe me then?”

“Yes. I know you wouldn’t lie. I don’t know what happened but…I know you know what you saw.”

A warm feeling spread across your chest, temporarily putting your sickness on the back burner. In truth, you weren't sure if the situation even called for an apology but you felt so pampered that your boyfriend cared enough to. “I-I’m sorry too, Tae. I shouldn’t have assumed you were being mean and pranking me. Snapping at you wasn’t cool.”

Taehyung just shrugged. “Nah, I probably would’ve done the same thing.”

You secretly agreed that you were in the right but still, if he was being a big enough person to say sorry so should you. You turned your attention back to the drink in your hands, taking a sip.

You nearly moaned in pleasure when the flavor graced your taste buds.

“What did you put in this?”

“Oh just some cinnamon and-”

“Ginger.” You interrupted, knowing without a doubt that it was the other spice.

“Yup. Why? Is something wrong?” He asked, probably worried you didn’t like it.

“No! It’s perfect.” You said before gulping down more of the nostalgic hot chocolate. “When I was a kid, I had a babysitter who would make her hot chocolate with cinnamon and ginger. Mrs Fritz was her name, a really kind old lady from down the street. I was her favorite so she made hot chocolate for me all the time and watched me for free whenever my parents went out.”

Taehyung hummed, a small smile on his face as you fondly recalled one of the biggest figures of your childhood. “She must’ve had great taste.”

“Mrs. Fritz had impeccable taste.” You good-naturedly corrected with a giggle. “I miss her. When other kids wouldn’t play with me she would stay inside with me and color or read me these cool stories.”

“I would’ve played with you.” Taehyung grumbled, in all likelihood noting how you grimaced at the memory of not being all too popular as a kid.

“Haha, you definitely wouldn’t have! I was such a dork and actually hated playing outside. Kid me much rather be at home watching some old movies or something. Not to mention I was quite an ugly little girl.” You laughed.

Tae gasped dramatically, “That’s not true! You were adorable!”

“You saw like one picture of me at eight! And my mom did me all up for that picture! Trust me, I didn’t look that good at all.”

Taehyung looked like he wanted to argue further, but realizing you were right he just dropped it with an unconvincing, “Whatever you say.”

“But anyway babe, you really can go back to painting. I don’t want to keep you. If I had any inspiration right now, you wouldn’t be able to tear me away from my laptop.”

His arm tugged you even closer. “Nope, I’m alright where I’m at right now. What kind of boyfriend would I be if I left my sick girlfriend all alone?”

You blushed, logically aware that you could handle yourself but emotionally over the moon that this beautiful man didn’t want you to. Selfishly, you wanted to take advantage of his presence even if it came at the expense of his art progress. So you placed the mostly empty mug on the coffee table, fishing out your phone from your sweatpant pocket and setting it there too.

You then curled up into his side, suddenly feeling so drowsy.

Taehyung held you closer, even playing with your hair as you lost the battle with your increasingly heavy eyelids.

You felt him press his lips against your forehead in a drawn out peck, as his nose ticked the crown of your head. He inhaled deeply, his everlasting love for your shampoo revealing itself once more.

“You okay?” His baritone voice whispered.

“Yeah. I just took some medicine that’s probably making me all sleepy.” You mumbled back.

You didn’t hear anything else, just felt as he rested his head on top of yours, presumably also closing his eyes to rest.

Slowly but surely feeling the mechanisms of your brain shut down, the darkness steadily taking over as the sound of the tv became more and more distant.

A notification from your phone caused you to open a single eye, quickly scanning the screen on the coffee table.

Taebear: Hey almost done over here! Do you mind turning down the TV a bit tho? Kinda distracting :(

Before you can even gasp, the medicine-induced darkness consumed you completely, effectively and brutally knocking you out.

That was the second incident.

–

“So like I was saying, I dumped his ass because what the fuck do you mean you ‘don’t know what we are’? I met his damn parents, Y/n!”

The voice blarred over the phone speaker, as you hummed rather noncommittally. “What a jerk. You can do a whole lot better, Lisa.”

You were in the laundry room, slowly taking clothes out of the dryer and folding them as you spoke on the phone with one of your closest friends. About once a week you two would have a call and catch each other up with your lives. Although, Lisa led a much more interesting life than you and usually had a crazy story to share every week, while you just reacted to it. It was kinda like a one listener podcast, but you didn’t mind as you were always very entertained with her.

“Thank you! I don’t know where I keep finding these guys. You really got lucky with Taehyung, all the other men our age are such assholes.” She groaned.

You wanted to laugh, but at the mention of your boyfriend’s name you froze.

Not catching your silence, Lisa continued, “Anyway, how are you and Taehyung doing? What’s it like to live together only six months into a relationship?”

“Actually…we had our first fight.” You told her. “Maybe. I don’t know. It may not even be considered a fight so much as a disagreement but I’ve been feeling a little awkward.”

“Oooh, what happened?” She didn’t even try to mask her excitement.

“It…I…Something happened and he didnt…I don’t know, Lisa. I’m going to sound crazy but I feel like I’m experiencing a glitch in the matrix or some shit.”

She pushed, “Try me. Remember when I used to be a flat earther? I’ll believe anything.”

Lisa made a good point, she was always down for conspiracies and even proclaimed herself a supernatural expert. So you relented, “Okay. Look, I don’t want you to laugh at me or anything because I’m being completely honest. I’m telling you this because I desperately need theories.”

“I promise I’ll give you a theory! Just get to it!” She barked over the phone, anxiously awaiting your story.

“Um, so earlier this week I went downstairs and saw Taehyung. I talked to him about ordering out instead of cooking, hugged him then went up the stairs. Then not even a second later Taehyung came home with groceries, telling me he wasn’t in the house at all when I said I saw him.” You paused, waiting for her to interject.

“Huh…” She trailed off, stumped herself with what that could mean.

“And yesterday, I went to Tae’s workspace to try to cuddle but he said he needed a bit more time with his painting and then he’d meet me upstairs. I went to the couch to wait and he suddenly came in and apologized for not believing me earlier. We cuddled and talked then…I got a text from Taehyung asking me to turn the tv down because it was distracting him.”

You took a deep breath to calm your rising nerves, not liking how you were managing to scare yourself all over again. “Lisa, how was I in Taehyung's arms when Taehyung wasn’t even in the room with me?”

“How did this other Taehyung act? Was he any different than your actual boyfriend?”

“I mean, the first time he didn’t say a word and I left the room quickly. The second time he was so sweet and…I don’t know. Maybe even nicer than my actual boyfriend but not like suspiciously so.”

“And there’s no difference between him and Taehyung? Same height, voice, birthmarks, everything?”

“Yes.”

A brief silence as she no doubt was working with a theory. “And you’ve never had experiences like this before you moved into that farmhouse?”

“None.”

“Ah-ha! It’s probably a ghost then!” She assured triumphantly.

You, however, weren’t so sure she solved the case. “A ghost that looks exactly like my boyfriend?”

“Well, crazier things have happened. You know, scientists say that each person has around six doppelgangers out there somewhere. What if this ghost was your boyfriend's doppelganger?”

“Still, why would he act like he was my boyfriend? Like, this ghost must have a different name and background than my Taehyung so why does he go along with it whenever I call him Taehyung and treat him like a boyfriend?” You questioned.

“The afterlife can get pretty dull. The ghost is probably just bored and noticed that Taehyung looks alot like him, so he’s using that to his advantage to mess around.”

“That doesn’t make me feel better.” You grumbled, pissed at the prospect of you being a little plaything to a bored spirit.

“I know babe but ghosts are mostly harmless. If it really starts to bother you, maybe get a medium to move him along or whatever.” Lisa advised.

“Yeah, maybe.” – Mom: Look what I found!

The text came with a video attached, and you clicked it without thinking much.

A chubby little girl of about three to five years of age was badly hiding in a school cubby. Her mini feet sticking out and wiggling as the rest of her body was covered by a hung up winter coat. The cameraman sighed dramatically from behind the scenes, asking loudly, “Oh where could Y/n possibly be?!”

The girl giggled and a new figure slowly snuck into frame, approaching the cubby with a large grin.

The preschool teacher suddenly reached into the cubby and snatched the girl up, holding her up in the air as if the toddler was a prize of some sort. “Gotcha!”

The mini version of you laughed in her hold, kicking the air in glee. “Miss Addison you found me! You’ll find me anywhere, right?”

The young teacher nodded as she placed you on your feet. “Of course! I have a really good Y/n sense! I’ll find you anywhere.”

“Even the moon?” Innocent you asked, most likely just having learned about the star.

“Yes, I’ll find you on the moon if I have to!” Miss Addison chuckled.

The video ended and you went to type your mom a half-hearted reply, mostly inquiring how she still even had that clip after all these years.

While doing so, you caught yourself wishing that you could show this to Taehyung and prove that you were indeed not the best company as a child, your teacher had to play hide-and-seek with you because no one else would.

Yet, it wasn’t Taehyung you had that particular conversation with. Rather other Taehyung.

Or as you and Lisa had nicknamed; ghost Taehyung.

You failed to tell your boyfriend about the second incident. He woke you up an hour or so later with his promised bowl of soup, softly scolding you for never turning down the tv.

Deep inside you were sure that he was already convinced you were crazy from the first time his replica showed up. You didn’t seek to push that theory even further. Mostly because you didn’t want him to admit you to a psych ward, but also because of another glaring reason. The first time you were sure that Taehyung himself was messing with you somehow, which prompted you to accuse him, but this time around you knew for a fact he was innocent.

Instinctively, you didn’t feel threatened by the doppelganger spirit. If anything you sorta wished he’d pop up again with a ginger-cinnamon hot chocolate. It was kinda weird that he was acting like your boyfriend when he wasn’t, but he didn’t try to be too intimate with you or anything. The lease on the farmhouse was only twelve months so you could put up with a friendly ghost for a while if need be.

The only creepy thing was that you weren’t sure how you were going to tell if you were talking to the real Taehyung or not. Thankfully, the sick day incident seemed to be the last one, the last few days being almost eerily mundane.

The door to your bedroom suddenly slammed open, revealing your beaming boyfriend.

He held up a champagne bottle with one hand and two glasses in the other. “Guess what just happened!”

You sat up in bed and placed your phone on the nightstand as he giddily approached you. “What? Are we celebrating something?”

“Only the Bauhaus Gallery agreeing to schedule a showing for my latest collection!”

You jumped up in surprise, instantly wrapping your arms around him and plastering his face with kisses. “Oh my god! Tae! That’s amazing! I’m so proud of you! When is it?!”

“Next Friday at eight.” He chuckled through your kisses, fully basking in your attention.

The Bauhaus gallery was an uppity German gallery in town that apparently served as a who's who in the world of painting. Personally, you didn’t get what the big deal was, but Taehyung made it one of his career goals to have a show there. He always said that his career would really take off if he could showcase his work at such a place.

You pulled back and began thinking out loud as Taehyung worked on the bottle, “Wow, okay! I need to get a dress. And we should invite some friends to support you. Oh! Namjoon and his wife would probably try to buy a painting so we should see if they’re free-”

Taehyung cut you off with the resounding pop of the bottle, “Yeah yeah, we can plan that all out later. Right now I just wanna celebrate with my pretty girlfriend please.”

You quieted down and held the glasses as he poured. He then placed the bottle aside, took a glass and held it up for you to clink. You did so while your boyfriend declared, “To my collection and girlfriend; both beautiful and priceless!”

“You better announce that again at the afterparty!” You laughed, covering your blush.

You both finished the drinks rather quickly, him with a refreshing “ahh” and you with a cringe. Champagne really was overrated in your opinion, having no idea why it was the token celebratory drink. The glasses were then shoved somewhere aside, courtesy of Tae.

You laid back down in the bed, Taehyung unhurriedly following suit and even climbing on top of you at a leisurely pace.

Taehyung’s face was now inches away from yours, his every breath tickling your skin. His previous mood of joy shifted into something more…sultry. Cat eyes darkened, fully taking you in with a steadily growing smirk. The artist licked this bottom lip in a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it speed, before quirking one brow up in faux inquiry. His voice was low and husky, purring into your ears, “You know, it’s been a while since we’ve fucked.”

You snorted, “Gee, that’s hard to believe when you put me in the mood like that.”

“You like a man who's upfront.” He shrugged, not wasting a second more as he leaned down to slowly melt his lips against yours.

The intimate sensation felt almost foreign, the last few days having only been filled with obligatory pecks due to you two being so caught up in your work. You almost forgot how talented he was at making you feel special.

You kissed back just as slowly, feeling the intensity of his lips and taking the time to reacquaint yourself with them. It was gentle, deep, and meaningful. He kissed you gingerly, carefully, but that’s not what you wanted. Not after all this time. Pent-up sexual frustration caused you to knot your fists in his shirt, pulling him harder against you.

Taehyung groaned softly, low in his throat while encircling you in his arms to gather you against him. You two rolled over in the bed, tangled in the sheets, still locked at the lips.

His tongue slips into your mouth, tender but demanding. You swirl your tongue against his, moaning into his mouth as his hands snuck up to twist in your hair and grip you impossibly closer. Taehyung’s slight stubble prickles you, but somehow the extra sensation just excites you even more. Your boyfriend's lips pull back and meet their ultimate home at your neck, him now mouthing fervently at the sensitive nerves there as you gasped for air.

As you felt hotter and hotter, Taehyung answered your unsaid prayer and positioned his thigh between your legs, obscenely brushing against the place you needed him most. Knowing you like the back of his hand, he purposefully tensed his thigh as you not-so-subtly grinded against it, all the while he sucked and nibbled at the spot just below your ear.

A tug at your clothes.

Softly biting your earlobe, he whispered, “Be a good girl for me and take this shit off.”

Just when you were about to oblige, an unexpected sound cut through all the haze and caused you both to freeze.

It sounded like a…bang?

From somewhere deep within the house.

It was so loud and shrill, it effortlessly echoed off the walls of your humble bedroom. If you had to describe it, it was as if someone had just thrown a bowling ball with all their might.

Undoubtedly snapping into protector mode, Taehyung immediately jumped off of you and reached under the bed to retrieve a metal baseball bat.

“Stay here.” He ordered, already marching out the door before you could even protest.

You fearfully obeyed, reaching for your phone in case 911 had to be called.

Your once warm and flushed body was now icy with panic. Sitting upright in the bed, you strained your ears for any idea of what was occurring downstairs.

But alas, the house remained freakily silent. Almost as if that brutal sound was in your head and nothing more.

This did nothing to help your anxiety, a cold sweat quickly forming.

Minutes passed, you waited with bated breath for something. Anything.

But nothing ever came.

Your worry grew tenfold.

The longer Taehyung was away, the more you felt weighed down with dread, heart nearly in your throat.

‘What was happening downstairs? Was Taehyung okay? Did he find something? If there was a struggle, surely you would’ve heard it by now, right?’

Then ultimately, as the seconds ticked on, ‘Was your boyfriend going to come back?’

At the ten-minute mark, you made your decision.

Now concerned for your boyfriend’s safety, you sprung out of bed and ran out of the room. Your body purposefully moving too fast for your mind to catch up and halt your movements in the name of self-preservation.

“Taehyung?!” You desperately called out as you practically plummeted down the stairs.

“In here!” A croaky voice answered, sounding like your boyfriend but oddly…defeated?

You correctly traced the voice to his workroom, stepping into the space and seeing a scene that swiftly broke your heart, effectively replacing all your fright with woe.

Taehyung was on his knees in front of an easel, head bowed down.

The easel held a half-done canvas.

It was a sketch of two people, a man and a woman that closely resembled you and Taehyung.

It was partly painted, the scene depicting a warm sunny day at the park that looked alot like where Taehyung had taken you for a picnic and officially asked you to be his girlfriend. You were in Taehyung’s arms, kissing his cheek as he smiled his signature box-smile. You could recall that precise moment easily, you had just said yes to being his and sheepishly pecked his cheek, embarrassed by the old man on the bench a few feet away that eyed you two like a hawk.

It was a wonderful piece of unfinished art, not only due to the sentimental value but also the artistry and time that clearly went into it.

If only there weren't angry red sloshes of paint that cut through it, ruining the picture and turning it into something that looked like a horrible bloody mess of goo and not the romantic day it was.

“I-I was going to gift this to you….on our seventh month.” Taehyung’s voice was watery.

You didn’t even know what to say.

All of his hard work and thought was simply…gone. Erased. Ruined.

It would’ve been the equivalent of someone breaking into your laptop and deleting your entire novel’s draft. What would you even do? If roles were reversed, would there even be a way for Taehyung to console you? To make matters worse, it was his gift of love to you. He didn’t make that painting for himself, a buyer, or a collection…he made it for you.

Your empathy made you almost cry for him, but you knew that would be the last thing he’d want to see right now. His guilt would only grow.

You walked further into the room and got on your knees beside him.

Wrapping your arms around him, you cradled his head in the nook between your head and shoulder while rocking the two of you. “Tae baby, I’m so sorry.”

He didn’t say anything for a while, although you felt wet teardrops on your skin.

“Who would do this? It doesn’t make sense why someone would break in, take nothing and just destroy my gift?”

You didn’t know either, but you wanted to make him feel better. “Listen, I think it was the perfect gift. It’s really the thought that counts and I’m just happy that you even thought to make me something like that. Especially in the middle of working on your own collection, it must’ve been hard.”

Taehyung pulled back, regarding you with a tearful but hopeful gaze. “Really?”

“Of course! I was literally going to just get you a watch or something. That gift kinda would have made me look bad.” You attempted to joke.

He shakily smiled, even chuckling a bit before pulling back entirely and standing to his full height. Tae then held a hand out for you, pulling you up as well.

Not wanting to be in the room anymore with that awful mess, you gradually pushed him towards the door, eventually up the stairs and into your bedroom.

You both sat on the bed, him with his head in his hands and you awkwardly suggesting yet another early night in.

But instead of agreeing and attempting to join you under the covers, Taehyung continued to sit almost painfully still at the edge of your bed.

Then, he spoke.

“Y/n, you were lying when you said that guy was probably just a figment of your imagination.”

It wasn’t a question.

He knew.

He believed you now.

–

It was now the official opinion of the house that a ghost was indeed roaming around somewhere.

You wanted to pat yourself on the back because truly, your taste in men was superior.

Taehyung wasn’t one of those horror movie boyfriends that was convinced every unexplainable occurrence must’ve had a logical explanation. It only took that one experience for the artist to admit that something weird was going on, and although he never saw the ghost himself, Taehyung believed you when you said it looked exactly like him.

You were happy that you two were on the same page…well, mostly.

Taehyung reasoned that the lookalike ghost must’ve been the one to ruin his painting.

You don’t know why, but somewhere deep within, that accusation just didn’t feel right. Without thinking much, you had told your boyfriend that destroying his gift didn’t seem like something ghost Tae would do.

Obviously Taehyung was bewildered at your sudden defense of the spirit’s character and demanded to know how you could be so sure that it wasn’t him.

Feeling that your hand was forced, you fessed up to the second incident in which you ran into the other Taehyung. You explained that he was sweet, brought you hot chocolate and even held you as you fell asleep. It was only after the real Taehyung texted you that you realized it wasn’t your boyfriend, but by then it was too late.

Your boyfriend was understandably furious.

For one, you never told him that you were cuddled and taken care of by another man, dead or otherwise. And secondly, this spirit seemed to be taking too much of a liking to you. The artist was a weird mixture of jealous and protective, following you around the house and barely leaving you alone in fear that his replica would show up and snatch you away.

You thought he was overreacting, but Taehyung's determination to get rid of the ghost only grew as the days passed.

One day you took a break from writing and went downstairs to refresh your coffee, when you paused at the sight of your boyfriend waving an odd burning stick around the living room in a fashion that somehow made sense to him.

“Sage cleanses the home of negative energy and basically tells unwanted spirits to fuck off.” He told you as if you were the idiot and not him- wildly thrashing his arm around in a puff of smoke and demanding that his evil ghost twin left the premises immediately.

You shrugged, “Just don’t set off the smoke detector, please.”

The next day, Taehyung informed you over dinner that he called a security camera company and had ordered a set to be installed in your home.

“Don’t you think that’s kinda a big fucking thing to not run by me?”

“I’m sorry baby, but I knew you wouldn’t have agreed.” He apologized without seeming even the tiniest bit apologetic.

“If you knew I wouldn’t have wanted it then why do it anyway?!”

“Because as the man of the house it’s my job to protect us and I would like to witness everything that’s going on. Next time he comes out and tries to touch you, I will be able to see it from my phone and confront him.” He then reached for his water and took a self righteous sip before muttering under his breath, “That is if the sage didn’t kick him out already.”

“Man of the house?!” You echoed incredulously. “You call twirling around with some burning twigs and yelling at a harmless ghost being the man of the house?”

“He’s not harmless! Why are you so convinced that it’s just a casper that we’re dealing with?!”

You opened your mouth to retort, but snapped it shut when you realized you didn’t really have any reason to believe he wasn’t dangerous. So you just focused on the main glaring issue, “Nevermind that. I just don’t like how you made a big decision without telling me. Are we not equal in this relationship? It wasn’t even worth consulting me about?”

Taehyung didn’t say anything.

It would seem that he understood your point, but was stubbornly holding onto his just a tad more.

Appetite ruined, you stormed away in a display of vexation.

Not wanting to go to sleep beside him either, you stayed all night in your office and tried to just focus on editing the latest version of your draft.

Somewhere along the way, you managed to fall asleep on the keyboard.

You blearily awoke hours later to the sound of the door firmly shutting.

Groggily you sat up and twisted to see if anyone else was in the room with you, all the while rubbing off the key imprints on your cheek and leftover drool.

No one was there.

When you turned your attention back to the desk, you softly gasped in surprise.

A plate of grilled cheese sat there, still hot.

Alongside it was a steaming mug of hot chocolate.

One sip and you instantly recognized the ginger-cinnamon.

It wasn’t your boyfriend who left this.

The sage didn’t work.

–

Ralph was a man of about fifty years of age.

Tall, lumbering, calloused and not necessarily easy on the eyes, he shifted awkwardly at the entrance of your delicate farmhouse as Taehyung listed off the places in the home that he’d like covered.

Ralph was to set up the cameras while you and your boyfriend went out for a quick errand.

The gallery showing was tomorrow, and so was the little afterparty that you had arranged to take place. You did so without really realizing all that you would need for hosting. The guest list was an intimate circle of seven, but given you and Taehyung were running out of groceries for even just the two of you, you figured a trip to the market was needed to properly prepare.

You rolled your eyes and waited for your boyfriend to finish his little pep talk, sighing in relief when Ralph was finally free to disappear into the living room with his bag of tools.

“Ready?” You asked Taehyung, not really waiting for an answer as you stomped past him and out the door.

He followed you wordlessly to the car.

The ride into town was stiff and awkward, neither one of you saying anything and music not even playing in the background as Taehyung drove.

You both were still angry at each other.

Well, more like you were angry at him and he was correctly trying to not poke the bear by instigating useless chatter.

The cameras were overkill in your opinion and a giant waste of money. You both were artists, which means a severe lack of steady income. You needed to be smart with what you threw cash at because no one knew if your next book or his next painting would even sell. Nothing was ever guaranteed.

You felt for him that his gift was wrecked, but you weren’t lying when you said that the thought was all that really mattered to you. You genuinely didn’t care either way, it would’ve been nice to have the painting, but it was just as nice to know that he was painting one for you.

If you were a betting woman, you would bet that this was more about Taehyung’s unfounded jealousy than anything else. Usually you would find harmless jealousy kind of attractive, but not when it went into installing cameras into your home at the “low” price of a couple hundred dollars.

You thought of this in a quiet rage as Taehyung pulled into the grocery store.

He parked, you both got out and walked inside before grabbing a cart.

“Let’s split up.” You said, your tone leaving no room for argument.

“Fine. What do you want me to get?”

“Get the drinks. They’re mainly your friends so you’d know what they’d like more than me. I’ll get some stuff for a charcuterie board.” You ordered, just wanting to get back home as soon as possible

He nodded and swiftly went over to the alcohol section as you made way into the food aisles.

You were looking at the different types of crackers and wondering what the fuck the difference was when a sudden call of your name took your attention.

“Y/n?”

The voice was light and airy, tone warm and nostalgic to the ears.

No way.

It can’t be…

You swirled around to face the owner, nearly choking on your spit when you realized your suspicions were correct.

Park Jimin was as gorgeous as ever. The cherub face was just as you recalled, somehow both ruggedly handsome and softly docile. His eyes crinkled behind a pearly smile, a small hand coming up to swiftly brush through his dyed blonde hair as he approached you.

“I thought that was you.” He chuckled. “How have you been? It’s been so long.”

You managed a wry smile.

Jimin was once your college boyfriend of one year, five months, and eight days.

But hey, who was counting?

“I’m doing okay.” You choked out, not liking how he quickly frowned at your strained tone. If there was one man you could never lie to, it was Jimin. “How about yourself? Did you open up that studio you always wanted?”

The truth was you knew he did. Before meeting and dating Taehyung, you were guilty of occasionally checking his social media. It simply couldn’t be helped. Jimin was the longest relationship you ever had. The first man you ever really loved. And your first ever heartbreak.

“Um, yeah I did! I heard you published your first book last year. I bought a few copies myself…” he trailed off sheepishly, suddenly avoiding eye contact. “It uh, was really well written. Are you um, working on anything now?”

You bit your lip, not sure how you felt about the man you were once wildly in love with reading your novel after years of not talking. Much less buying more than one copy to support you. “Y-Yes I’m writing my second book.”

He nodded, a proud expression on his face as he pursed his lips in thought.

“I’m sorry this is…weird.” He finally huffed. “I really didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”

You sighed with some relief, thankful he felt the same way. “Same. After you said you wanted to date other people I really didn’t expect to say another word to you like, ever.”

Jimin laughed, “Haha, what? Your memory continues to suck, Y/n. If anything it was you who ghosted-”

“Y/n.”

A much deeper voice cut through the air, bringing all the attention to a new figure descending upon the scene.

Taehyung strode up from behind you, placing an arm around you and regarding the other man with a brooding look of regard.

“Whose this?” Your boyfriend asked, purposefully deepening his already deep voice.

You inwardly rolled your eyes, noting how the artist was practically puffing his chest and glowering at the much shorter man.

“Taehyung, this is my old friend Jimin. Jimin, this is my boyfriend Taehyung.”

The two stiffly nodded at each other, you dodging the questioning look Jimin secretly shot at you for being described as ‘an old friend’.

A pregnant pause hung in the air.

“So…how long have you two been together?”

Before either you or your boyfriend could answer, a pretty lady suddenly skipped into the aisle and grasped onto Jimin’s arm.

“Babe, I can’t find the oat milk! I thought you said- Oh hello!” She just now noticed you and Taehyung, smiling politely and not-so-subtly nudging at Jimin to introduce her.

“Oh, um, this is Molly.”

“His girlfriend! And you two are?”

“I’m Y/n and this is my boyfriend Taehyung.” You introduced. “Jimin and I went to school together.”

“Really? I never get to meet any of Jimin’s old friends! We should have a double date or something!” Molly was an over the top girl, your ears almost ringing at the volume she exuded. But she seemed nice, so you smiled warmly at her and vaguely agreed.

Another brief, awkward and only slightly painful silence.

“Actually…” You trailed off in thought, an idea forming in your head but you didn’t know if it was a good one. Yet it was too late. Before you could even backtrack, all three sets of eyes were on you, eagerly waiting for you to finish the thought. “…what are you two doing tomorrow night?”

“Was just gonna drag Jiminnie to see this new movie! We can totally blow it off though!”

“Well, my boyfriend is a really talented artist and he has a showing tomorrow night. We’d love it if you two could make it.”

You felt Taehyung stiffen beside you, but you paid it no mind.

From what you understood about showings the more people, the more eyes, the better. It was harmless, wasn’t it? Jimin bought multiple copies of your book, and you’d invite him to a gallery showing to please his over hyper girlfriend.

Even, right?

Molly beamed, asking for your number to exchange the details.

You did so, pretending not to notice how both Jimin and Taehyung bore their stares into you.

When finished, you waved goodbye to the couple as they made their way to the dairy section. You and Taehyung then continued your own shopping in a rushed manner- your boyfriend grumbling about having to get back in time for the cameras.

The ride home was a bit more talkative, with Taehyung asking how you knew of Jimin and what made you two friends. You answered the questions rather honestly, just leaving out the parts about how your friendship blossomed into something more.

You weren’t exactly trying to be deceitful. It was just that he was under a lot of stress and paranoia the last few days, you didn’t want to push his poor nerves any further. If he was willing to set up a bunch of cameras to keep some ghost away from you, you didn’t want to push your luck by mentioning that Jimin was your ex boyfriend and longest relationship.

Besides, it wasn’t like Jimin was any kind of threat. You would never entertain the idea of going back to the guy who dumped you. He also now had Molly, so clearly you both moved on.

Taehyung pulled the car into the driveway, asking if you could handle the few bags as he went in to talk to Ralph and sort out the last few steps of installation. You agreed, watching him jog into the home as you gathered all the groceries and took your time to get inside.

You beelined straight to the kitchen with the newly bought food, raising your brows when you saw Taehyung staring at something intently on the counter.

“What is it?”

Taehyung didn’t answer.

You walked up behind him and stood on your tippy toes to spot over his shoulder what he was looking at.

It was a note, in messy and hurried handwriting.

“Sorry but the cameras could not have been installed. It won’t work here. -Ralph.”

–

If there was any man on top of the world tonight- his name was Kim Taehyung.

The Bauhaus gallery was swarmed with countless people, all clamoring to gaze upon the latest Kim collection and ponder the intricate meanings behind each piece. They wore luxury clothes and drank fancy wine that you couldn’t even pronounce, their tax bracket clearly a couple pegs above yours. There was of course some idle chatter, almost every corner of the building being filled with some pretentious snob rambling about the brush strokes, artistic style and commentary your boyfriend was allegedly trying to make with his art.

Such a crowd was not something you were accustomed to.

Thus you clung to Lisa, both idly sipping at wine and watching your boyfriend from afar as he charmingly answered questions.

“You know, he’s going to make thousands of dollars tonight.” Lisa thought out loud. “These rich types will outbid each other like crazy.”

You shrugged nonchalantly. You were happy for him, and knew he deserved it but you would be lying if you said he wasn’t in the doghouse.

“Still mad huh?” Lisa correctly assumed, reading your expression. “What happened after the camera dude disappeared?”

“Taehyung was really upset and called the company to demand his money back. They refunded him entirely, apologized and even sent someone to get the company van. I guess the Ralph dude was an alcoholic and everyone just kinda accepts that he skipped town.” You explained. “I tried to calm him down but he sorta snapped at me about how I never even wanted the cameras so I was probably just loving it all.”

Lisa lowly whistled, “Damn. Well, he probably snapped about the cameras but I promise you it wasn’t just about that.”

“What do you mean?”

“You invited your ex to his showing.” Lisa lectured, as if you were a child who didn’t even understand what you did wrong.

You stuttered, “B-But he doesn’t know Jimin is an ex! I told him he was just an old friend.”

She rolled her eyes, “Y/n of course he would see right through that. There's always going to be chemistry between Jimin and you, he probably picked up on it and is aware you’re not telling the complete truth about what you two were.”

“He’s just overly jealous. He wants to fight our ghost too. At this point, every man is a threat to him.”

At the mention of your ghost, Lisa’s eyes practically sparkled. “Oh I can’t wait to go back to your place! I want to feel the haunted energy for myself.”

Now it was your turn to roll your eyes, “It’s just like any other home, Lisa.”

“That’s because you don’t have a psychic sense to save your life, Y/n.”

You didn’t know whether or not to be offended by that, so you decided to distract yourself by scanning the room for your boyfriend’s invited friends.

Kim Namjoon was an old boss of Taehyung that remained good friends with the artist even after he dumped his job to take up painting full time. Currently, he and his wife Jennifer were talking rather seriously to a thin-lipped curator, most likely about purchasing one of the artworks displayed.

Right across from where you and Lisa stood, Taehyung was conversing with his former coworkers; Jin and Hoseok. They appeared to be laughing about something, their lightheartedness standing out in the overly serious room of people.

If you craned your neck a little to the left, you could spot Yoongi and Jungkook hiding in a corner away from everyone else, almost perfectly mimicking you and your close friend. They both nursed their drinks quietly, occasionally sharing words but mainly just waiting out this event.

You always kind of thought that Lisa and Jungkook would make a good pairing if properly introduced and pushed. So you turned to your friend and was just about to suggest you guys walk over, when she made a face at something behind you.

“Uh oh, here comes the ex.” She mumbled.

You turned around to indeed see Jimin and Molly approaching.

Jimin wore a suit, dress shirt unbuttoned at the top to reveal some of his sun kissed chest. His blonde hair was properly done this time, brushed to the side and back to fully expose his forehead. He raised a hand and waved, rings catching the light and nearly blinding you in the process.

Beside him, Molly looked as pretty as ever in a blue sweetheart dress that complimented her figure. Yet, she looked rather irritated. She attempted to give you a smile in greeting, but it looked more like a grimace.

Jimin spoke first, “Hey, I’m so sorry we’re late. I’m hoping we didn’t miss too much?”

You wanted to be annoyed but without meaning to, a giggle escaped you.

“Things really don’t change.” You told Jimin, a knowing look simmering in your eyes. While dating, you guys were often the couple that showed up late to any event. Most people assumed that it was your doing because you were the girl, when in all actuality it was Jimin.

Jimin shamelessly grinned, “I’ve gotten better, I swear.”

You didn’t believe it for a second and he knew it.

You both shared a laugh, staring at each other fondly like old friends reliving the old times.

It was hard to believe that you were joking with the man you once thought you’d never get over or forgive. Countless nights were spent eating your feelings, hysterically crying and obsessing over all the videos or pictures you couldn’t bring yourself to delete.

But there are some people in life that as soon as they come back, it’s like they never left.

And it was almost as if Jimin never left.

You two continued to gaze into each other, lost in your own comfortable bubble when a sudden throat clearing broke the haze.

“Um, actually the showing is almost over.” Lisa informed, her and Molly visibly looking left out of the nostalgia.

Your ex had the decency to look guilty. “Oh no! I’m so sorry! Maybe we can all just get drinks? There’s a nice bar two blocks down. I can buy a round for everyone?”

“That’s sweet but we have a little after party planned back at my place. I live kind of out of town though, so it’s okay if you can’t make it.”

“No! We can make it! What's the address?” Jimin seemed eager.

You told him, him pulling out his phone to save it into his gps system.

Molly was silent all this time, which was kind of worrying as your first meeting with her led you to believe she was the bubbly type. Now that you mentioned it, it looked like she was avoiding looking at either you or her boyfriend, focusing on a spot on the wall somewhere behind you.

You opened your mouth to maybe ask if she was alright, but quickly shut it when you realized that could be overstepping some boundary.

Fortunately, Lisa seemed to have enough of this entire interaction and grabbed your arm while saying, “Me and Y/n were just going to go to the restroom! Please take a good look around and enjoy her boyfriend’s work! See you guys at the after party!”

Your friend then swiftly dragged you away, barely leaving you enough time to smile apologetically at the couple.

When you both entered the restroom, Lisa simply marched up to the sink and began fixing invisible smudges in her makeup as you shifted awkwardly beside her.

“So…” She started, looking you up and down in the mirror. “Please tell me you know Jimin is still in love with you.”

“W-What?! No way!” You spluttered.

“Y/n it’s so obvious. I actually felt bad for his girlfriend. He couldn’t take his eyes off you.” She rolled her eyes, almost disappointed in your lack of awareness.

“It’s just been forever. It’s hard to not hyperfocus on eachother, we’ve both changed so much. Also, why would the guy who dumped me out of nowhere still be in love with me?”

She released a deep sigh, “He knows he made the shittiest mistake of his life and is now regretting it when seeing you and your talented boyfriend doing so well.”

You chuckled at the thought of someone looking at your relationship and being jealous.

“Listen, just remember tonight is Taehyung’s night and fighting or not, he’s still a wonderful boyfriend overall. And Jimin is your ex who broke your heart. Inviting him to your place after this might’ve been too much. I suggest you keep your distance.”

“Lisa, thanks for the advice but I honestly was just being friendly. He seemed sorry that he missed most of the showing. Besides, I’m going to be too busy hosting to have a deep heart to heart with him or anything.” You explained, a little offended that she thought you were going to play part in some dramatic reconciliation.

A sudden announcement echoed outside the restroom doors, your ears straining to hear a gallery worker asking everyone to gather on the main floor for the artist’s speech and thus the final part of the night.

Saying nothing more, Lisa and you made your exit to join the audience.

– The clock was nearing midnight.

Your usually quiet farmhouse of a home was not at all quiet.

Your boyfriend's friends were merrily talking and drinking, once in a while their masculine laughs would sync up and reverberate through the halls. They all conversed and lounged in the living room, the largest part of the house that could fit all of them comfortably. Yet, you and Lisa stayed in the kitchen, making the drinks and finger foods, as you indulged in harmless girl talk.

“The one with tattoos is so hot, Y/n. Please tell me he’s single!”

“Jungkook? I’m pretty sure he is. Taehyung told me that Namjoon is the only other one in the friend group that’s in a relationship.”

“Okay, so far so good.” She paused to pop a stuffed mushroom in her mouth, humming in thought. “What’s his type though? Like, would I have to make the first move? Does he like a straightforward girl? Because he hasn’t so much as looked at me tonight.”

“I’ve only met Taehyung’s friends once before so I don’t know their types or anything. I do think Jungkook looks a lot manlier than he actually is. He’s very kind but shy so you’ll have to talk to him first.” You explained while opening another bottle of wine for the two of you.

Lisa frowned at the thought, not used to being the one that had to chase.

You poured two glasses, handing her one with a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, I can introduce you two. It’s kind of a good thing he’s avoiding you like the plague, Tae once said he only acts like that with pretty girls.”

Your friend lit up like the fourth of july.

“Hey babe!” A familiar deep voice called out.

You looked around to see your boyfriend stepping into the kitchen, a buzzed smile on his face and a slightly glazed film over his eyes.

Moments like these made you realize how much of a lightweight your boyfriend was. It only took one or two drinks for him to get tipsy. But it was still his night and he was already home amongst loved ones, so all you could do is smile endearingly at his slightly intoxicated self.

“Yes, handsome?”

His boxy grin grew, “The boys want more beer.”

“Already?! I put out a twelve pack! People need to be able to drive home, ya know!”

He laughed, “Baby, my friends can drink a gallon each and still be able to drive home with their eyes closed if need be.”

“Well I don’t have any more beer up here. Just wine. There might be some more in the basement, though.”

He nodded in thanks, turning his back to presumably go to the basement and retrieve the drinks.

Lisa waited for him to get fully out of earshot before leaning over and dramatically whispering, “How is Jimin and that Molly girl doing?”

You shrugged, “Last time I was in there, Hoseok was making conversation with Jimin and Molly was all over Yoongi.”

“Damn, trouble in paradise?”

“I don’t know. He didn’t seem too bothered and she seemed a little drunk. She might just get overly friendly when she drinks.”

“And you’re still convinced that he’s over you?”

You rolled your eyes but ultimately stayed silent, aware that the couple was acting sorta strange but also not so sure that you were the cause. You took your wine in one hand and a plate of appetizers in the other, motioning for Lisa to grab the rest and follow you.

When you both entered the living room, you were thrilled to spot Jungkook sitting alone on one of the loveseats. You quickly set the food down and pulled Lisa along with you, approaching him with a friendly smile meant to put him at ease. Considering the way his eyes widened at the sight of your friend, you didn’t know how successful you were.

“Hey Jungkook, it’s been a while!” You greeted.

“Y-Yeah it has been. How’s your erm, book going?”

“It’s doing okay, thanks for asking. Have you met my friend, Lisa?”

He briefly scanned your friend, nervously gulping before saying quietly, “…No I haven't.”

“Oh well, Lisa was just saying how much she liked your tattoos.” You nudged her, prompting her to say something.

She just nodded in agreement, suddenly meek.

He blushed, “Thank you.”

“Actually, Lisa, weren't you saying that you were thinking of getting a tattoo?” You pretended to think out loud, as if you weren’t outright playing them. You didn’t wait for her to answer the rhetorical question, “Jungkook, don’t you do tattoos now?”

Now on a topic of interest he was for sure confident in, Jungkook practically jumped in his seat, “Yeah! I do! I’ve only tatted myself and some friends but I hope to work on more people.”

You watched with a smirk as Lisa moved to sit next to Jungkook, her now explaining what she’d like done and Jungkook asking questions about placement, size and color.

You felt sure enough in them to leave them alone, now inhabiting your little corner as you finished your wine while taking in the scene.

Yoongi and Molly stood by the window, and were obviously the most inebriated. He was the type to ramble pointlessly when tipsy, and she giggled at every little thing he said, playfully shoving his shoulder once in a while. You knew for a fact that Yoongi was too deep in his own self-epiphanes to notice her bad flirting, either that or he was just trying to talk to anyone who was willing to listen.

Namjoon and Jennifer were sitting on the couch and talking to Jin, laughing at whatever odd impression he was attempting. Beside them on the loveseat, Hoseok was politely nodding along to small talk from Jimin. Being one of the friendliest and most calming of the group, it made sense that Hoseok was the one trying to make your ex boyfriend feel included.

Content to just watch your guests for a while, you stood by your lonesome and slowly sipped at the remnants of your wine.

Playing host wasn’t exactly your forte, so you were enjoying the little lull while it lasted. Unlike your boyfriend, your social battery tended to max out at the two-hour mark when in group settings.

And as much as you loved the people in your home (with maybe the exception of your ex and his girlfriend), you couldn’t wait for them to get out so you could take a long, hot shower and head to bed.

The stress of the last few days was really tiring you, and you just knew that as soon as the excitement of the showing and sold paintings wore off, Taehyung was going to continue his spat with you about the cameras.

When you and Jimin dated, you two were always on the same page. Fights very rarely happened. And Jimin was such a people pleaser that if literally anything slightly upset you, he would practically fall over himself to make you smile again.

Taehyung was the first boyfriend to genuinely pick a fight with you, being more stubborn than you about matters you didn’t necessarily want to back down from either. Your relationship conflict resolution skills were being tested, and you just didn’t have the patience or experience to keep fighting much longer. You would call a truce or some type of compromise, if it weren’t for the fact that there was no way to really keep both of you happy.

A few minutes passed as you pondered this to yourself.

Seemingly materializing out of nowhere, a mysterious arm wrapped around your waist.

The suddenness of it all caused you to jump and release a very unflattering squeak.

Speak of the devil and he shall appear.

A deep chuckle rumbled beside you, Taehyung smirking lazily before diving face first into your neck and nuzzling it in some sort of drunken stupor.

“Don’t sneak up on me like that!” You groaned, trying to forcefully shove his face away from you. “Where’s the beer you went to fetch?”

Your boyfriend expertly dodged your shove and dove back into your neck, mumbling against the skin something about not being able to find more drinks.

The vibration of his lips on such a sensitive spot made you want to squirm, but his halfhearted mumbles took your attention a bit more.

“No beer? I could’ve sworn-”

“Hey Y/n!” Someone interrupted with a call across the room. You looked up to see Lisa trudging over with a determined look on her face and a fogged up look in her eyes, perhaps a bit more tipsy than you remember leaving her. “Aren’t you going to show me where exactly you saw the ghost?”

Your dear friend most likely thought she was being discreet and having a normal conversation at a perfectly appropriate tone. But no, she was actually speaking way above a conversational volume, causing everyone else in the room to halt their conversations and turn to look at you.

“Ghost?” Jin laughed.

“You saw something in this room?” Hoseok inquired with a trembling voice, most likely regretting having come over. Beside him, Jimin quietly shook his head to himself.

“No way, Y/n doesn’t believe in stuff like that.” Your ex confidently informed the group.

At the sound of your past lover’s voice, you felt Taehyung stiffen beside you. The artist untangled himself from you, standing to his full height and facing the guest with an unknown expression.

“We had a little bit of a ghost problem, but it’s taken care of now.” He paused, and you could nearly hear his smirk when he went on to declare, “I got rid of it.”

Yoongi laughed boisterously, having to hold himself up with the wall to prevent falling over. “I’m sorry, but the image of little Tae boxing a little sheet with two holes for eyes is really sending me.”

Half your guests laughed at the thought. The other more believing half still stared at you inquisitively.

An awkward silence.

“Ghosts are real.” Jennifer started, effortlessly drawing all eyes to her. “I used to live in a haunted house when I was a kid.”

She put her drink down and folded her hands across her lap, suddenly immersed in thought and careful about what she was about to share.

“In my childhood home, there was a garden in the backyard. Almost everyday, at sunset, I’d look out the window and see this lady circling the flowers and humming to herself. After ten minutes or so, she would disappear into thin air. I told my parents but they never believed me.”

She paused, either for dramatic effect or to recollect.

“Until one day, my mom saw her too. And when she went out to confront what she thought was an intruder, the lady disappeared before her eyes. My mom then did some digging about the history of the house and it turns out, the previous owner was outside gardening when she had a heart attack and died.”

A pregnant pause hung in the air as everyone silently digested the anecdote.

“That’s fucking terrifying, please tell me your parents moved houses after that.” Hoseok broke the silence first, pleading with watery eyes.

Namjoon’s wife laughed, reaching for her drink once more. “How is it scary? The lady was just checking on her garden in the afterlife. However, I then grew up really interested in supernatural stuff.” She turned to you. “There’s some tell-tale signs that a home has a spirit attached to it. Cold spots, shadow figures, whispers, scary dreams and the biggest of all: always feeling like you're being watched, even if there’s no one else in the room.”

You quietly thought to yourself. Were there any cold spots in the home? No. Any shadow figures? Nope. Whispers and nightmares? Nada.

But…the last one, being watched when no one is there.

If you really focused on your intuition, you faintly felt that even now amongst all these people, you were being watched by something unknown.

Goosebumps raised on the surface of your arms.

Chills ran down your spine and you shivered, the reaction causing Taehyung to grasp you tighter against him in what was supposed to be comfort.

You felt even more cold.

“We haven’t had any of that. Really guys, it’s taken care of.” Your boyfriend told the room, effectively shutting down the paranormal subject.

You assumed Taehyung felt a bit defensive of his ghost expelling skills, either that or he genuinely wanted another topic of discussion.

You then felt a little bad, it was still his night after all and here you were unintentionally ruining it with your little ghost stories. The focus of the room should be on him and his achievements, not everyone's supernatural beliefs and stories.

“Taehyung is right, it’s all resolved. But I’d like to ask all of you to fill up your glasses one last time, and raise them with me, ” While they did that you quickly scanned the room, “Um, except maybe you, Yoongi. Feel free to sit this one out, bud.” You laughed as the drunk man just grumbled at you, defiantly snatching another beer and holding it high while swaying on his feet.

Hopefully he wasn’t the one driving home.

You cleared your throat, “I'd like to propose a toast to our own Taehyung. Everyone in this room knows it was only a matter of time before your artistic genius was recognized by the world, but that doesn’t make us any less proud than we are of you tonight. To the first of many showings! To Taehyung!”

“To Taehyung!” the room loudly parroted back, everyone thrusting their drinks of choice in the air before knocking them back.

The artist beside you laughed and shook his head, “Really, guys it’s no big deal. Just a few paintings that I’m lucky even got sold. But thanks so much for making it. Most of you-” he snapped a side eye where Jimin sat, “have supported me so much, I’m just happy to have such a great group of friends.”

Said friends all smiled and nodded, although a few caught on to Taehyung’s subliminal dig and warily looked over at your ex.

Jimin pursed a tight smile, clearly trying to be nice and not make it obvious that he was the outsider at the party. You caught his eye and shot him a sorry look, but he shook his head in what was clearly meant to say “don’t worry about it.”

Your boyfriend continued, “However! ‘Friends’ don’t really beat ‘love of my life’. So without getting into all the lewd details of how I plan to spend my night celebrating, I’m going to need you all to start clearing out,” Taehyung smirked. “Y/n is a screamer.”

“Ew!” Lisa shouted, beside her Jungkook was suddenly unable to make eye contact with you.

The older men in the room just cackled. You slapped the artist's chest while trying to hide your blood red face.

Taehyung ducked and mouthed at your ear to whisper, “Sorry baby, but you know it’s true. And don’t act like you don’t want them out sooner rather than later.”

You wanted to be mad, but understood he was tipsy and riding on the high of his showing. So instead you played along and harshly whispered to him, “I doubt you can make me scream tonight. It’s not right to be misleading to your friends.”

He tiled your head to make you face him.

Taehyungs’ left brow twitched in vexation, his lips pulling back in a little growl. He looked around to make sure the guests were distracted with finishing their drinks or saying their goodbyes to each other. When he confirmed no eyes were on you two, he secretly placed his hand at the back of your head, running his long fingers through your hair and stopping right at the ends, to quickly form a fist and pull.

It was just one short tug, but the power of it made you gasp.

You would be lying if you said it didn’t make you a little wet too.

You had no idea where this came from. He never pulled your hair. Your boyfriend wasn’t rough and was one of those really progressive artists types that viewed any kind of manhandling in the bedroom as sort of sexist. But when you peered up at him, with the doe eyes he said he loved so much, and saw the clouded nature of his gaze, you just knew that inebriated Tae was very different from sober Tae.

Black and white, really.

‘I’m in for quite the night’ you thought to yourself while biting your lip, inwardly smug at how Taehyung transparently honed in on the action.

“Um, hey I think I’ll take my leave first.” You looked up to see Jimin awkwardly shifting in front of you two, a blacked out Molly in his hold.

“Oh god! Is she okay?” You exclaimed, noting the poor girl looked dead.

The dancer chuckled, “Yeah, she just gets really hyper when she's drunk then passes out after a bit. Ironically, sleep is all she needs I guess since she always wakes up good as new. No hangover.”

“Here let me show you out. I can help put her in the car.” You offered, already detangling yourself from Taehyung. He made a small sound of protest and made move to hold you tighter.

You placed a hand on his shoulder and consoled him with a smile, “You wanted people to leave, so we should help everyone get home safe. Can you check on Yoongi and maybe see if Namjoon and Jennifer can take him home?”

He looked conflicted, carefully sizing Jimin up through his peripheral. You wanted to roll your eyes. Although tipsy Taehyung was apparently a sexy beast, he was also an immature toddler who needed to be tricked.

You got on your tippy toes to whisper in his ear, “The quicker we get people out, the quicker you get me all to yourself.”

That seemed to convince him as he reluctantly stomped away in the direction of the couple, shooting one more guarded look at the dancer.

With that you led Jimin to the front door, even helping him put Molly’s heels back on before stepping out into the driveway and walking him to his car.

Silently, he opened the car and laid her in the backseat, tucking her in with his jacket. Then he shut the door, but instead of walking around to the driver spot, he turned to you and sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck.

“So….”

“Look, I’m sorry about Taehyung. I didn’t even tell him you were an ex but he’s just been really possessive and weird lately. It’s not just you.” You informed him, hoping to make him feel better.

Jimin just waved it off with a chuckle, “No, I get it. You’re really gorgeous, kind and talented. I also struggled with jealousy when we were together. Can’t really blame him.”

You hoped your blush wasn’t too prominent as you said, “Yeah, but you were always nice to people regardless of feeling possessive. He was just rude. Again, I’m sorry.”

“Well, you can’t really date someone breathtaking if you’re going to be an insecure prick about it.”

You gaped like a fish at the implication you were still breathtaking in Jimin’s eyes. Words were suddenly hard to come by.

It was silent for a moment, the tension between you two as thick as it can possibly get for two past lovers.

“Y/n…why didn’t you tell him we dated?”

“L-Like I said, he’s already been acting jealous and I didn’t want him to focus on that when it was his night. Besides, It’s not like-”

“I broke up with Molly.”

“…What?”

“It happened on the way to your after party, she was upset that I still held a candle for you. And yeah, I couldn’t drag her along when I never felt half of what I felt for you, for her. I just said it without thinking, terrible timing of course. But that’s pretty on brand for me, I suppose.” He attempted a joke.

You smiled politely, although you had no idea how you should feel.

He continued, “I just thought I should say sorry because the reason she was such a drunk and sloppy mess in your home was because I carelessly dumped her on the way there.”

“It’s um, okay Jimin. She wasn’t the only drunken mess tonight. I hope you two manage to stay friends.” You said, then after a beat added, “And that you find what you’re looking for.”

“Listen, I know you're with Taehyung and happy but, I think there was some kind of misunderstanding about our breakup. I’m not trying to be a homewrecker or anything, but can we get a coffee sometime and just…talk?”

You smiled, finding no harm in the offer. “Sure-”

“No.”

You gasped and whipped around to see Taehyung standing behind you, arms crossed and hell in his eyes as he glowered down at Jimin.

How did he get there without being spotted or heard?

It's like he fabricated out of nowhere.

“I suggest you get in your car, leave and never speak to her again.”

Your ex held his hands up in surrender, “Look man, I wasn’t trying anything-”

“What kind of guy goes to their ex when she’s clearly in a happy and healthy relationship, and tries to drudge up the past in the name of closure? Fuck your closure. You lost her, and now I have her. And trust me, she has better things to do than getting coffee with the guy who broke her heart.”

“Please, Taehyung-”

You were cut off.

His voice was the lowest you’ve ever heard it, eyes pitch black and face blank as he calmly finished, “It’s pathetic. You’re pathetic. And if I see you again I’m going to break your kneecaps and skin you alive, you little spineless boy. Run along now. While you still can.”

The threats were so visceral and promising, coupled with a man who looked downright murderous yet somehow calm. As if he had done it before and doing it again would be more so an inconvenience than a whole life-ending ordeal.

In this moment, you didn’t know your own boyfriend and you were terrified with this new persona.

No one moved or spoke, in fear one step or word would make Taehyung good on his promise.

You and Jimin were paralyzed, like two helpless deer in the presence of a blood thirsty wolf, the only hope was to stay still and go unnoticed. You met your ex’s eyes and while he did look afraid, he was focused only on you and your proximity to Taehyung.

Jimin was fearful. Not for himself, but for you.

And while you wanted your ex to run away, you were also scared to be left alone with someone so different from your usual Taehyung.

How could a few drinks and some jealousy cause such a behavior?

“Hey what’s going on here?”

Namjoon and Jennifer were babysitting a toddling Yoongi, the couple was also making way to their vehicle when they spotted the scene. The so-called ‘leader’ of the gang was quick to pick up on Taehyung’s aggressive stance, probably prompting him to get involved.

You felt your body lighten in relief.

Namjoon was always good at calming people down and taking control of situations.

Like a switch was turned on, your boyfriend grinned at the oncomers and nodded over at the dancer. Seemingly happy as a clam he chirped, “Nothing, hyung! Jimin here was just leaving. His poor girlfriend had too much, I think.”

Namjoon didn’t quite believe that, you and Jimin still looked rigid with alarm after all. Nonetheless, he played along for everyone’s sake. “Really? Maybe you should leave now then Jimin, get her in bed as soon as possible. It was nice meeting you.”

Jimin took the hint with grace and wordlessly ducked into his car, not acknowledging anyone else as he mouthed to you “call me”.

He started up the car, then slowly backed out of the driveway, and eventually down the road.

“Dude, are you sure you’re okay? It looked like you wanted to kill him.” Namjoon asked the artist.

Before hearing whatever bullshit was going to spew out of his mouth next, you promptly whipped around and stormed back into the house, making sure to purposefully shoulder-check your boyfriend as hard as you could in the process.

What the fuck was wrong with the bastard?!

Talking as though he was some offender or even a murder, just because your ex wanted to catch up?

You were so dreadfully embarrassed! Jimin must’ve thought you lost your mind after him and went off to date some real weirdos.

If you weren’t already on a lease with the man, this probably would’ve been the part where you blocked him and made it your personal mission to never see him again.

Instead, you busied yourself in the kitchen and washed most of the dirty dishes your guests left behind. You hoped Taehyung was wise enough to leave you alone, if the jerk knew what was good for him.

About 15 minutes had passed, and the kitchen was nearly as spotless as it was before the party had started, thanks to your furious cleaning and scrubbing. The house was now silent, and you were just debating putting all your spices in alphabetical order when you heard a shuffle behind you.

You snapped around and instantly scoffed at the sight.

Taehyung was leaning against the doorframe, hands in his pockets and fixing a sheepish look at you.

“So…that got a little out of hand.”

You barked a disbelieving laugh. “More like you got out of hand, Taehyung. Threatening people like you’re some felon! Wouldn't be a surprise if there’s a rumor spreading about me dating a serial killer now."

“Y/n, I’m sorry. But please let me make it up to you.”

“Make it up to me? Your actions cannot be undone Taehyung! I cooked and cleaned after your friends and tried to make this night special for you. I just wanted you to have a nice night and be nice, and you flip out over a platonic coffee date? Who do you think I am? A slut who will open her legs to any ex who talks to me?!”

“W-what? No- Of course not! Please don’t think-”

“What the hell am I supposed to think, asshole?! Even if Jimin still had feelings for me, it would take me reciprocating them for anything to happen! You clearly don’t trust me, and if that’s the case, then what are we doing here? Should we just become roommates or something?”

A painful struck his face, watery eyes met yours when he choked out, “Do you even hear yourself? Why would I try to fight your ex if I truly didn’t love you? You’re mine, and I love you so much it’s just…I can act a little crazy sometimes.”

You sighed, turning your back on him to lean on the sink in exhaustion.

“I thought you were different from other guys, Tae. That caveman shit is extremely degrading to not only you, but especially me.”

“I’m sorry…it’s just a primal part of me that I can’t turn off. Give me a chance to make it up to you.”

You shot a look over your shoulder at him, still pissed.

He shot his hands up in the air, as if in defense. “You can still be mad at me all you want.”

“You’re sleeping on the couch for a week.”

“Done.”

“And….And you’re forgetting all about those stupid cameras.”

He quirked a grin, unknown mirth dancing in his eyes. “Sure.”

“At the end of the week, you will personally apologize to Jimin via a phone call or letter.”

His smile dropped, your glare sharpened, “Umm..fine okay. It won’t be sincere though.”

You rolled your eyes, “Doesn’t have to be, it’s the right thing to do so you’ll do it.”

“…anything else?”

“Not for now. I’m going to bed soon so if there’s anything you need from the room, get it now.”

He wordlessly turned around, and you then faintly heard him going up the stairs.

Biting your lip in deep thought, you proceed to wipe off the last of the counters.

Could you forgive him? When he was willing to do all that to appease you?

If you were being honest with yourself, you could feel the irritation already start to melt away a bit. You hadn’t expected such a 180 in his stance, he went from threatening Jimin with murder to begrudgingly agreeing to apologize within only a matter of half an hour or so. You thought you would have to at least give him the silent treatment for a bit before you could even bargain a “sorry” for your ex. Taehyung was usually much more stubborn…

Nonetheless though, you were still upset and embarrassed about the scene.

You hated when men got violent around you, it made you feel so unsafe and small. You thought Taehyung was different, him even poking fun at the meatheads who would pull stuff like that at the local bars you would frequent while dating. So what changed?

Footsteps slowly descended back down the stairs, telling you that Taehyung had returned from your bedroom and it was safe to go up.

You left the kitchen, turned off the lights and passed through the hallway. Briefly you stopped, just short of the stairs, to see your boyfriend grumbling to himself while arranging some blankets on the couch.

A sudden and chilling thought ripped from your lips before you could even quietly ponder it.

“Taehyung…how did you know Jimin was my ex?”

He stopped in his tracks, slowly turning to face you with a blank look.

“Uh, Lisa might have slipped up and told me.”

You relaxed, unknowingly releasing a breath you had been holding. “Hmm, okay. We’ll talk tomorrow then. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight baby.”

“Oh! Let me get some water first, can you check that the doors were locked?” You asked while skipping back towards the kitchen. You hated waking up with a dry mouth and always kept a glass of water on your nightstand, restless bathroom trips be damned.

You didn’t hear any response to your request, but you paid it no mind, assuming Tae probably already double, if not triple, checked the locks being the worrywart that he was.

Right next to the kitchen entrance was the basement door, and it was shut.

Yet, something stopped you in your tracks.

The light under the basement door…it was on?

“Well I don’t have any more beer up here. Just wine. There might be some more in the basement, though.”

It couldn’t be….could it?

Your intuition was hollering at you from within.

A force greater than you pulled you to the door handle.

Against yourself, you opened the door to the basement…

And choked back a horrified scream.

At the bottom of the stairs lay Taehyung.

Unconscious, pale and bleeding horrifically from some head wound that was forming an inky pool under his crumpled form.

It wasn’t your Taehyung that returned upstairs.

So...this has been sitting in my drafts for over a year lol. I do have a dramatic ending in mind and some final scenes but yea, I don't think I could finish this unless people actually wanted it so let me know if this is a plot you kinda liked? I never tried flat-out supernatural horror like this. Anyway, happy October guys! Love you all. Luna :)

#yandere bts #yandere taehyung #bts taehyung #kim taehyung #taehyung x reader #bts fic #bts x reader #yandere au #bts #bangtan boys #male yandere #taehyung fanfic #yandere taehyung x reader #kpop fanfic #taehyung fluff #yandere imagines #yandere fanfiction

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hopelesslyromanticshark · 3 months

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⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ Property of Leo Valdez

content: leo valdez x daughter of poseidon! reader warning: major references to sexual stuff (like integral part of the story, folks), language, aged up for obvious reasons probs like 19-20 ish, author's note: i know for a fact I didn't completely come up with this concept myself. I saw a headcanon a few months ago that mentioned this idea and then i wrote it into a full fic bc i loved it so much. and I have since lost it, which is more than a little disappointing bc i would love to give credit where credit is due. if any of yall run into it, lemme know and i'll give them credit. anyways, i figured we could use a full fic in after all those hcs!! this was just collecting dust in my drafts so let's full send this baby.

leo and y/n weren’t really ones to follow the rules. it goes all the way back to their time on the argo ii. after coach hedge was gone and buford the table was put in charge, y/n had started to have really intense nightmares. like, wake-the-whole-ship-up-with-screams intense nightmares. she stopped sleeping in hopes of avoiding it. one night, she had been talking to leo, where she promptly passed out against his shoulder. it was the first peaceful night she’d had in a long time, they both knew that. so, y/n started spending her nights in leo’s room. it only took a little bit of rigging of buford to leave them alone. easy enough of a task for leo. it was a habit they couldn’t seem to break, slowly being unable to sleep without the other being in the same room.

it worked out just fine on the argo ii, but back at camp half-blood was different. chiron had noticed the closeness between the two and sat them down, reminding them of curfews and how campers of the opposite sex weren’t allowed in other cabins. he was basically letting them know he had his eyes on them. it scared the couple off for less than a week.

it started with them sleeping in bunker nine, figuring it to be a loophole. then, following a late night on the beach, y/n begged leo to spend the night with her in the poseidon cabin. he couldn’t say no to her puppy eyes, but he was slightly worried he was gonna drown on his own spit the whole night. they typically tried to avoid the hephaestus cabin whenever they could, too many of leo’s siblings around at all times. still, there were times in which percy wouldn’t let leo into the poseidon cabin, earning him a pillow to the back of his head from y/n. which is why they still frequented bunker nine, just like tonight. leo and y/n walked back to the poseidon cabin, only to be beaten by percy and annabeth, causing percy to guard the door with a small frown.

“sorry, coves, but we got here first,” he mused, to which y/n stuck her tongue out at the younger boy.

“i still hold seniority,” y/n whined, leaning into leo’s side as she crossed her arms.

“yeah, by like a few months,” percy argued back, rolling his eyes.

“so what?! that still counts!” y/n insisted, glaring at the younger boy.

“come on, coves, we’ll go,” leo interjected before the two actually started fighting, giving the girl a warm smile. she huffed, turning around to head to bunker nine before stopping right before percy closed the door. she bounded up the few steps, wrapping her arms around him in a quick hug.

“sleep well, dude,” she said, in hopes of clearing the air. she knew they weren’t actually fighting but she didn’t like going to bed with even a hint of a fight.

“you too,” he replied, giving her a squeeze and smile before heading into their cabin. y/n quickly caught up to leo, wrapping her hands around his arm as they snuck their way into the woods towards bunker nine.

it wasn’t too long of a walk, the time flying as they quietly laughed among themselves, enjoying the night so far. leo pushed the door open, gesturing for her to walk through in front of him. y/n patted his chest as she passed, heading towards the dorm area that was off the side of the main garage area. y/n was pulling her hair out of the braid it had been in all day, her hair naturally laying against her camp half-blood shirt. leo smiled at this, catching up and wrapping his hands around her waist from the back, laying his hands flat against her stomach and pressing his lips against her neck.

“what are you doing, valdez?” y/n breathed out, her breath hitching slightly as he gently sucked against her pulse point. she could feel the smirk of his lips against her skin, causing her smile to widen as well.

“hopefully? you,” he replied and y/n laughed, leaning back against him, allowing his hips to meet with her lower back. a groan left his lips at this action and y/n smirked before pulling away from his loose grip, putting an extra sway into her hips, just to piss him off.

“w-where are you going, cariño? Get back here,” leo argued, eyes snapping open as he followed after the girl. she turned a blind corner and he followed, just in time to catch her tugging her shirt off. she looked over her shoulder at him, walking backwards towards the bed in just her bra and denim shorts.

“what? did the repair boy lose his cool?” she mocked, tilting her head at him. leo shook his head, taking quick steps towards her and settling his hands against her waist, pulling her hips against his with a smirk.

“no, no. but, i’m gonna make you wish i had lost my cool,” he muttered in response, moving a hand up to cup the girl’s breast through her lace bra. a moan gets caught in her throat, y/n throwing her head back. he smirked, pulling her closer and planting kisses against her skin.

“leo,” she breathed out, a huff following as the boy unbuttoned her shorts and pulled the zipper down tantalizingly slowly. she shoved her hands under his shirt, running them over his lower abdomen, slowly lifting the shirt as her hands went higher. leo laughed lightly at her, pulling away from her marked skin as he grabbed the shirt and pulled it the rest of the way off, flinging it somewhere into the room. once the shirt was off, she smashed her lips against his, earning a shocked noise from the boy.

“y/n, gods,” he all but groaned, leaning forwards as she leaned back before they plopped down onto the bed. y/n laughed, looking up at leo as she breathed in heavily. he was using his arms to keep himself from completely putting his body weight on her.

“you look so good under me, baby,” leo whispered and y/n smiled up at him, gently setting a hand against his cheek.

“i gotta admit, the view’s pretty good from down here, too,” she replied back, leo breathing out a laugh before closing the distance between them once more. this ended a few hours later, the pair a tangled mess of limbs under the covers, leo’s body curled around y/n’s. the next morning, leo was jolted awake by a loud banging in the bunker, the boy hazily looking out the door leading to the room, being met by festus, who puffed smoke out of his metallic nostrils. leo huffed, sitting up and glaring over at the metal dragon, but ensuring that y/n was completely covered.

“festus, dude, keep the noise down. didn’t get much sleep last night,” leo yawned, glaring over at the dragon before glancing at the nearby alarm clock, instantly waking up as he saw the time.

“shit. y/n, honey, you gotta wake up,” leo muttered, gently but also rapidly trying to wake the sleeping girl. y/n tried to ignore him, attempting to nuzzle into the sheets. normally, leo’d just let her sleep in but he couldn’t today. he took another panicked glance at the clock before reaching onto the bedside time and grabbing the water bottle he kept there for safety reasons. just in case y/n ever got hurt in the bunker, he’d have a way to make it go away. he unscrewed the cap before dumping it on her, the girl shooting up with a gasp before glaring over at him.

“leonidas samuel valdez! you’re dead to me!” she screamed, flicking the water that she could off onto him.

“yeah, you can thank me when you’re not late to training with the hermes cabin,” leo barked back, jumping out of the bed and tugging on a pair of jeans. y/n leaned over, looking at the clock before her face went pale.

“shit.” “that’s what i said. Get dressed,” leo stated, throwing her an orange shirt before he scrambled to a wardrobe and pulled out a shirt for himself, rapidly doing the buttons.

“no, like, i’m gonna be in serious shit, leo. fuck me,” y/n whined, pulling the shirt on and pushing the neckline off to one side as it was baggy before reaching for a pair of shorts that she left a few weeks ago, refusing to put the ones from last night on.

“already did, baby, that’s how we got here,” leo muttered back, earning him a smack to the back of his head as she ran past, tugging on her shoes as she went.

“ow!” he called after her, grabbing his belt and resting it against his waist as he glared after her, the girl flipping her hair so she could put it in a high ponytail.

“you earned that one, hot head,” she bit out, tying her hair up and making to sprint out the door before turning back and giving the boy a rushed kiss against his lips.

“sorry. i had fun last night and while this sucks, i wouldn’t trade last night for anything,” she told him, offering a quick smile before moving to leave.

“me too. but, uh, y/n?” leo called, rubbing a hand on the back of his neck.

“what?” she asked, hopping as she tied the laces on one shoe. “put your hair down. you have, uh, a few…” leo trailed off, gesturing to his own neck in reference. y/n groaned, pointing back at the boy with one hand while the other pulled her hair down.

“back on the naughty list, valdez,” she shouted, sprinting out of the bunker before leo could stop her again. and he truly did try, noticing his fatal mistake as the girl spun around. it wasn’t her shirt he’d thrown to her, but rather one of the extras he kept around for himself. he mainly kept it as a throw away shirt to wear while he worked, something he didn’t mind rubbing grease all over. it was old and well loved, which is why the neckline was so saggy. and proudly printed on the back in his handwriting were the words ‘property of leo valdez.’ initially meant as a way to keep his grabby siblings away from his shirts, but now its meaning made leo’s heart soar and cringe at the same time. man, he was in for a big lecture when she noticed.

“sorry i’m late, just caught up doing stuff,” y/n huffed as she ran into the archery area, quickly picking up a bow and quiver of arrows. she spun around and squinted her eyes at the hermes kids before zeroing in on the stoll brothers. she jutted her hip out and gave them a pointed look.

“what?” “does ‘stuff’ go by the name of leo?” connor asked, causing the rest of the hermes kids to burst into laughter. that was quickly interrupted by an arrow grazing the boy’s shirt, ripping a clean hole next to his ribs. connor looked up, mouth dropped and eyes wide as he was met with y/n, still holding her bow towards him, a new arrow notched.

“wanna try again?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at the boy. connor swallowed thickly before shaking his head. y/n lowered her bow, rolling her eyes.

“thank you. now, let’s get started, yeah? unless anyone has any last smartass comments they’d like to share with the class?” y/n dug in, crossing her arms, scouring the crowd for a moment before allowing a smile to grace her lips as she clapped her hands together, “Great! now, who wants to learn how i hit connors shirt without hitting him?”

the hermes kids were quick to learn and the lesson finished fast, leaving y/n to clean up. she was unsticking the arrows from the hay bales and thought back on the hermes kids. she figured maybe the shirt had grease on it or something that she couldn’t see. y/n began making her way towards her cabin in hopes of changing into a new shirt when she ran into percy, who immediately did a double take upon seeing his sister's shirt.

“you’re joking,” percy bit out in shock, staring at his sister with a rage she had never seen directed at her before. y/n jumped at his voice, pressing a hand to her chest.

“what?! why so much attitude, this is literally the first time i’ve seen you today-” y/n argued, pushing her hair out of her face while she tried to catch her breath.

“nope. nope. let’s go, y/n, now,” percy insisted, grabbing the girl by her shirt and dragging her towards the forge. he was muttering curses under his breath and y/n was so confused, trying to get him to let go of the shirt.

“percy?! what the hades! let go-” y/n shouted as he finally let go, the girl stumbling to stay up right as they were at the doors to the forge, catching the attention of all the hephestus kids in there. leo turned his head too, before wincing at the sight before him.

“this better be a fucking joke, valdez. start laughing or i start stabbing,” percy growled and leo held his hands out, trying to sooth percy.

“look, i thought it was her shirt! i didn’t know which one it was, i’ve got so many of those damn shirts! it was honestly an accident. come on, percy,” leo insisted, taking small steps away as percy walked forwards. y/n’s brows furrowed more as she looked down at the shirt, not seeing anything wrong with it.

“you let my sister walk around with that shit on her back!? i’m gonna kill you,” percy argued, pointing back at y/n, who’s head tilted. leo shrunk even more, swallowing thickly.

“she still doesn’t know?” he asked, his voice pitchy. percy then spun around to his sister too, eyes wide.

“what- wait a second-” y/n huffed before taking one of the nearby shields and setting it up, using the metal as a sort of mirror. the two watched her read it and she looked back at leo with a gaze he couldn’t quite read. then, she burst into laughter, tears quickly pooling in her eyes as she clutched her stomach. percy and leo shared a glance, equally confused.

“uh, baby? you’re-…you’re not mad?” leo questioned, tilting his head at her. y/n wiped away some of her tears, still trying to catch her breath.

“no, i am,” she replied, still giggling a bit, “but- i almost made connor stoll look like a pincushion over this shirt.”

“so you’re fine with that being advertised?” percy asked, crossing his arms with a frown. y/n was finally calming down and she rolled her eyes at him, still smiling though.

“i mean, the shirt’s not wrong,” she shrugged, patting his shoulder as she walked past. she then poked a finger into leo’s chest, now frowning at him.

“though, if you ever let me walk out in this shirt again, i’m throwing you in the lake. Got it?” “yes, ma’am.” “damn straight. now, i’ve got to go change then get lunch. i’ll see ya boys,” y/n said, pressing a kiss to leo’s cheek before walking off. once she was far enough away, percy smacked leo’s chest, causing the boy to keel over.

“what was that for??” “dunno. i’ll tell you when i find a reason,” percy shrugged, walking away.

the day carried on. leo was quick to find y/n before lunch, pressing kisses after kisses to her cheek as an apology. y/n eventually pushed him off with a laugh as they walked into the dining pavilion. they got their plates together but parted ways since they had to sit with their cabins. y/n pulled her hair back, eyeing the honey on her sandwich since she didn’t want it in her hair. percy started speaking as she sat down, yet to look at her though.

“so, i was thinking maybe we should do a movie night-” he stopped as he looked up, his eyes catching on the hickeys that littered his sisters neck, his eyes twitching. the neck of her shirt was cut off, allowing it to slip off her shoulder and her hair was tied back, allowing him to see all of them. y/n looked up as he stopped speaking before following his gaze. her eyes widened and she jumped out of her seat.

“percy-” “three,” he started, calmly wiping his hands and pushing his seat back. y/n yelps before moving towards the hephestus table, quickly gaining leo and everyone else’s attention too.

“we’ve got to go. now! move it, fire boy!” y/n insisted, grabbing hold of his arm and tugging him up.

“what-” leo argued, letting her drag him though.

“two,” percy continued, pulling his pen out of his pocket, inspecting it like he had all the time in the world. leo’s eyes widened as they landed on y/n’s neck then twisted back to percy.

“yeah, running’s a good idea. Go, Go, Go!” he agreed, quickly taking the girl with him.

“one,” percy muttered before jumping up and chasing after the couple.

“i’m gonna kill you! it’s gonna be painful! you’re gonna wish you never met her!” he yelled after them.

“never!” leo shouted back with a laugh, dragging the girl behind him.

author's note cont. : for once in my life, i have nothing more to say. the yapper has been silenced. you guys are free fr

#postcards from covey ౨ৎ #all my love ౨ৎ #leo valdez x reader #heroes of olympus x reader #hoo #percy jackson #pjo #pjo fandom #leo valdez

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copper-16 · 3 months

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Why Would She Say That?

Ingrid and Mapi’s daughter calling the Norwegian by her name for the first time

(a/n: hi guys! So a few people have been asking for a kid fic with Mapi and Ingrid, and to be honest I came up with a ton of ideas so I decided to just post little chapters as I write them instead of compiling them all into one big fic! I used the same character from an old kid fic I wrote about these two back a few months ago. I hope everyone enjoys! :)

Elena was just a little under a year old when it happened. She hadn’t properly started talking yet, had only babbled in the way that all babies did. It was one of Mapi’s favorite activities, to sit there with her and pretend that she understood what her daughter was saying. They would have whole conversations, Elena perched on her lap and just talking away at the Spaniard, who appeared to be hanging off her every word despite not understanding an ounce of what she was saying.

Ingrid, personally, found it incredibly adorable if not a little frustrating at times. She loved Elena very much, but when the little girl was upset sometimes there wasn’t much that could be conveyed through the pointing of her chubby fingers.

Which was why the Norwegian was elated when Elena began speaking, real, whole words.

She had tried not to be too discouraged by the fact that her daughter’s first word was “Mami,” the name they had very clearly picked out for Mapi to be called. Mapi was “Mami” and Ingrid was “Mama” they had decided, figuring that would be easy enough for a baby to understand while still being able to delineate between the two of them.

“Princesa, can you grab me Elena’s bag?” Mapi called out from her spot near the apartment entrance, with their daughter settled comfortably on her hip. The sandy blonde little girl eagerly pulled at her mothers hair, and Mapi winced slightly before gently pulling her chubby hand away, shaking her head at the baby despite the fact that she was smiling down at her.

But Elena just smiled back at her with delight, clapping her hands together as the brunette bounced her lightly, waiting for her wife to bring the bag they needed before leaving the house.

“Ma-ma-ma, pra-pra-pra, buh-buh-buh,” Elena puffed out softly, and Mapi nodded her head as she smoothed down the mess of sandy blonde curls atop her head.

Ingrid came around the corner with the bag in just a few seconds, smiling widely at her two girls, depositing a kiss on each of their cheeks as she passed the bag to Mapi.

“Elena, can you say bye-bye to Mama?” Mapi prompted, doubting that the baby would actually do it but still trying to get her to say the M-word, either way. But Elena just smiled up at the Norwegian without saying a peep, instead waving her hand goodbye. Ingrid allowed herself to lean into the laughter that tumbled from her mouth, tickling her daughter's belly slightly before she kissed Mapi softly in parting.

“Bye princesa,” Mapi mumbled against the Norwegian’s lips before she slipped out the door with their baby.

—

When the center back arrived back home just a few hours later, Ingrid was waiting at the door with anticipation.

“Elena!” The dark haired woman cooed in excitement, having missed the baby despite the small amount of time that had elapsed since they had last seen each other. And to her credit, her daughter was equally excited to see her, reaching for the Norwegian easily and allowing for her Mami to facilitate a quick trade off.

Ingrid covered the little girl's face in kisses before she turned her attention to her wife, who was gazing fondly at the two as they greeted one another.

“How was the doctor?” The taller woman asked, referencing the check up that Mapi had taken Elena to.

“Everything looks good. She’s in the 52th percentile for weight and the 45th for height, and everything looks healthy according to her doctor,” Mapi parroted, and Ingrid couldn’t help but nod in relief. When she had been pregnant with Elena, nobody had really warned her about the pre and post-partum anxiety she would feel. And while it had gotten better as Elena had gotten older, occasionally it still held her tightly for the most random of things, like a routine doctor's visit.

But Elena was fine, and Mapi was smiling at her brightly, and everything was okay.

After the three of them had dinner, they migrated to the living room to settle in for the night. Mapi was curled on the couch as Ingrid sat on the floor with Elena, playing with her blocks while she babbled away.

“Yes, this one is yellow,” Ingrid explained as the little girl held up a yellow block, watching as Elena dissolved into giggles and reached for another one, holding it up to her mother expectantly.

“That is purple,” Ingrid supplied easily, and instead of laughter Elena looked down at the purple block with confusion, her little brows knitted together in clear skepticism.

“Do you not like purple?” Ingrid asked, looking up at Mapi with an equally confused expression. Elena looked up at her Mama just as Mapi replied, also a little lost on what was going on.

“Mami!” Elena cried out gently as she looked back at Mapi, before looking at Ingrid again, the block still in hand.

“Maybe she just does not like that purple block, princesa,” Mapi tried, unsure of what was going on inside her daughter's little mind.

But just as Mapi finished her sentence, Elena dropped the purple block and reached for Ingrid insistently. The Norwegian easily reached for her daughter, pulling Elena into her with a gentle hug. Her daughter's little body melted into her completely, letting out a relieved little sigh.

When the dark haired woman pulled her daughter back, Elena smiled at her brightly.

“Prin-prin-prin,” Elena pushed out very insistently, as though she was trying to tell her mother something, and it was Ingrid’s turn to furrow her eyebrows, shaking her head slightly.

“Hm?” She asked the baby softly, not really expecting an answer but trying to mirror what her wife did with the little girl when they spoke.

“Princess!” Elena finally giggled out triumphantly, pointing at Ingrid with one of her chubby little baby fingers.

Mapi pitched forward with surprise from her spot on the couch as Ingrid nearly dropped her daughter from complete surprise, and for a moment both of them were completely still and silent as they looked from each other to their baby, back and forth.

“What did she just say?” Ingrid squeaked out, her voice an octave higher than it usually was. Mapi had slapped her hand over her mouth, and she was trying desperately to keep from laughing.

“María, what did she just say?” Ingrid repeated, staring at Elena with wide eyes. Her daughter was staring back at her with big eyes, confused as to why her mother was acting so strangely.

“She said princesa, I believe,” Mapi said from her spot on the couch, a smirk dancing across her lips. Ingrid looked over at her with huge eyes, more than a little shocked.

“Why would she say that! That’s not my name!” Ingrid exclaimed, but Mapi just raised a brow at her, unimpressed.

“Is it? It’s not like I haven’t been calling you that for years, princesa,” the Spaniard points out, emphasizing her last word heavily.

“Princesa!” Elena repeats happily, reaching forward to place her hand on Ingrid’s cheek as if to prove her point.

Ingrid looked from her wife back to their baby, who was staring at her with big eyes, as if she was the only thing in the whole world that mattered. She had never expected to have loved such a small human so much, and yet here she was. Completely and utterly head over heels in love with someone so tiny.

“Yes, that’s right, that’s me,” Ingrid whispers, her voice choked up as she struggles to get words out over her impending tears. The Norwegian pulls their daughter back into her, and Elena settles into her chest easily, her whole body pressed flush against Ingrid.

“You know who I am,” Ingrid murmurs into the little girl's sandy blonde hair, her words just barely audible. Tears are slipping down her cheek of their own volition, falling onto the carpet as Elena snuggles into her, and her wife finally moves from her position on the couch to join them on the floor.

She wraps her arms around Ingrid, allowing the Norwegian to press her face into her neck as she still cradles Elena close to her, the brunette bringing her hands up to gently rub at Ingrid’s back soothingly.

“She always knew who you were, you know that, right?” Mapi murmurs softly, trying to reassure the Norwegian that just because her daughter hadn’t said her name, didn’t mean that she loved the dark haired woman any less. Ingrid nodded into her neck, gathering herself for a moment before she leaned back, rocking Elena back and forth as she sniffled lightly.

She knew, but it was still something else entirely to hear her daughter say something that signified her, out loud.

Mapi reached forward to wipe the remaining tears from her cheeks, given that her wifes hands were relatively full at the moment. When Ingrid pulls Elena back slightly, the little girl seems concerned, looking up at the Norwegian with worry in her eyes. Ingrid can probably guess that she’s clocking the redness and blotchiness of her face from her crying.

“Mama?” Elena asks gently, and Ingrid feels her jaw fall open again as her face lights up, and she looks from their daughter to Mapi, who is looking back at her with excitement.

“That’s right, Mama! Mama is alright, mi sol,” Mapi reassures the little girl, but her words are twinged with excitement for her wife, and Elena giggles at them both before she reaches for the Spaniard, allowing Ingrid to safely transfer her from one parent to the other.

Mapi smothers the small girl with kisses before she looks back up at Ingrid, only to find her with more tears in her eyes.

“Are you crying again?” Mapi asks with a laugh as the Norwegian fixes her with a glare, but the intensity of it is lost as a tear rolls down her face.

“Ti stille,” Ingrid snaps, telling her wife to shut up though there is little bite to it, and the Spaniard simply chuckles in response as she bounces their daughter a few times before depositing her back to the Norwegian.

“Gosh - what a day! Ingrid…I think we might have the smartest baby ever,” Mapi decides with complete and utter seriousness, and Ingrid rolls her eyes slightly at the hyperbole, but she finds herself agreeing rather easily either way.

“I think you might be onto something there,” Ingrid decides as she cuddles her daughter close, the little girl giggling at all of the excitement as she tries to pull on some of Ingrid’s long dark hair.

“Ow, Elena!”

#ingrid x mapi x daughter #ingrid engen #mapi leon #woso #barcelona femeni

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c0llisiion · 5 months

Text

NUMB TO THE FEELING — j.jk

♡pairing : jjk + fem!reader

♡: not proof read, exs, idol!jungkook x idol!reader , fwb kinda? , smut , mutual masturbation - lmk if i missed any!

W/C : 1,162

Pt.2 , Pt.3

A/N : SORRY 4 DISAPPEARING AGAINNNNN! i js got too busy guys 😣😣😣😣 rqs are open! Send in your rqs and prompts ily <33 anyways here is a jk fic i wrote instead of finishing my other jk fic :3

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ MDNI. Please refrain from reading if the topics make you uncomfortable. ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

2 months. Its been 2 months since you broke it off with jungkook. It was all over the news, a hot topic for the k media. ‘BTS’s Jungkook and Y/G/N’s y/n ends 4 year relationship’, was still trending on naver. It happened so quickly. Knets are already placing the blame on you for the breakup, as they view you as a mean rebel idol who breaks hearts and messes around. A face of disgust was plastered on your face as you scroll through the endless amounts of hate comments knets put under the articles.

“Wow I always knew she was a bitch”

“She definitely cheated on him with another idol lol”

“What do you expect when you date a wh*re? Jungkook should have never dated her”

“She ruined his image”

Back and forth, people were calling you degrading names and putting Jungkook in a good light. They said all of this while not knowing a single thing about how your breakup unfolded. It was mutual. You both started getting busy with schedules. That simple. Maybe a few disagreements here and there. Maybe a few trust issues but the main point was it was mutual and you both broke up because of schedules. You got tired of the same comments and decided to turn off your phone but you got a new notification.

baby star candy 🤍

Hey

Tf is he doing at this hour?

Y/n

???

baby star candy 🤍

Is it okay if i come over?

Classic jungkook. Getting straight to the point. You stared at the text for a while not realising that you were leaving him on seen.

My baby star candy 🤍

Helloooooo?????

Its fine if you dont want me to

Y/n

Yes. Quick.

You sent your reply before his second text got to properly load. And there you were. Your phone turned off, biting your nails as you waited for jungkook.

It didn't take him a lot of time. Reaching your place in under 7 minutes and 13 seconds. You heard your doorbell and you immediately rushed to the door. You stood at the door for some time, avoiding the impression that you were eagerly anticipating his arrival.

You opened the door and see the tall bulky black haired man with his calvin klein hoodie and grey shorts. You stared at him before he brought you back to reality by snapping his fingers. You let him in before locking the door. You grabbed him by his wrists and took him upstairs to your room.

He quickly settled in your bed letting out a deep sigh, Relaxing and stretching his limbs out onto the bed. His arm was tucked behind his head as he patted the empty space next to him with half lidded eyes. You rolled your eyes before snuggling with him. Your tv was on and playing a random tv show you put almost an hour ago, forgetting to it turn off. You sighed and relaxed into his arm. The silence was comfortable. Jungkook was playing with the hems of shorts and you with the drawstrings of his shorts. You knew where this would lead to.

His hands started slowly massaging your thighs and ass in a comforting way. Its like he knew you were sad. And he did. “Im sorry” he spoke up. You looked up at him. His eyes were focused on the tv infront. “Im sorry about those comments. I should have said somethin’.” He said finally looking down at you. You shook your head and nuzzled into him closer “dont be. Its not your fault. Tbh i really dont gaf.” He chuckled at your attitude. He always liked your idgaf attitude. That’s what made him ask you out. “So you are not sad?” He asked his hands trailing up your shirt, cold fingers resting under your tits. “Hmm i was but then there is no reason for me to be. Maybe we should upload one of our sextapes to show those bitchy knets and completely appall them..” you giggled thinking about their reaction. Jungkook sighed and chuckled. “Yeah? Which one? Our old ones or the one we are gonna make rn?” His cold fingers squeezed your bare tits and tugged on your hard nipples. You hissed at the feeling. He grabbed your hand using his other hand and started using yours to rub himself through his shorts. He let out a soft groan throwing his head back. You bit your lip as you felt his hand lower into your shorts, quickly taking your sensitive bud in between his fingers, tugging it gently. You gasped and held onto his wrists as he continued abusing your bud. He was growing harder and harder because of your hands and the unholy sounds you let out every time he flicked your clit. You put your hands into his shorts and wrapped your fingers around his dick. Your movements were restricted by his shorts which opted you to pull his dick completely out. You stared at it. Oh how much you missed that monster. “Quit staring baby..” you felt yourself melt as he inserts two fingers into your sopping hole. A loud squelch was heard when he started fingering you. Your hands lazily worked up and down his shaft. Small spurts of precum already leaking out of his red tip. You picked up your pace and so did he. You twisted your wrists around his tip. You knew how sensitive he was there and continued. His eyes were squeezed shut as soft moans left his mouth. He started choking on them as he felt your hands squeeze around his length. God the way you had this man under your control with Just your hands was insane. He was quick to return the favour as two more fingers were added. His thumb rested on your clit rubbing it in circles furiously as he fucked your cunt with his long fingers. Loud noises accompanied by yours and his moans were the only sounds heard in the room. Your vision went white as you finally reached your end. Squirting all over his hands and wetting your shorts as well as your sheets. You let out choked out moans and your back arched off of the bed.

“Attagirl…” jungkook said with furrowed eyebrows as he kept finger fucking you. Your hand movements got sloppy which prompted jungkook to thrust into your hands. You picked up pace which made jungkook stiffen. You knew his orgasm was close from the his facial expressions and his voice. You stared at his face as you watch your ex boyfriend come undone under your grasp. He let out a final gasp before cumming all over your hands. You slowed down your movements finally letting go of his softening cock before bringing your fingers to your mouth, licking all his salty cum clean, staring deeply into his brown eyes.

Only you had him like this. No other woman will never come to your level ever.

A/n : HEHEHE sex tape part 2? 🤭🤭🤭🤭 ALSO SORRY FOR THE USAGE OF BABY STAR CANDYAJJEKAJWJA I JS HAD TOOOOOO

#bts reactions #jungkook smut #bts smut #taehyung smut #bts #jungkook #jungkook scenarios #jeon jungkook #jeongguk #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #jungkook reaction #jungkook headcanons #bts x reader #fem reader

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bacchicly · 4 months

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A few imperfect thoughts about writing fat characters respectfully

By me :

A short (5'2"), fat (approx 300 pounds), middle aged (turning 42 thank god), married to not a fat man, mother of a pre-teen, white, CIS, Anglo, Canadian, upper-middle class woman who writes fic (including smut) about a character who is fat by TV and Hollywood standards (Penelope Garcia)

Note: fat hate or debates about whether being fat is healthy or not will not be tolerated on this post. That is not what this post is about. This is about giving some insight into what writers may want to consider when trying to respectfully include more fat characters in their work and generally moving towards writing doing less harm to fat people.

This post started with me wanting to respond to someone honnestly asking "how do I write good descriptions of fat people" because they wanted to write more fat characters and write them authentically (and I assume in a way that would be respectful to fat people) which is an awesome! ...Or maybe it started a few months ago when a writer friend asked about whether a fat character in a fic borrowing a shirt or hoody from her fit boyfriend made sense. ...Or maybe it started way back when I started writing my first fan fic featuring Penelope Garcia partly in response to being irritated about how so many writers wrote her as a young woman and were often silent on her size or spent a lot of time on her insecurities about her body... anyhoo that's where I come from... doesn't make me an expert except maybe on my own unique experience with a fat body...rather more a fellow muddler / fat character writer enthusiast.

THE BASICS

This first part is a quick list of basics you'll read in other posts about writing characters in general - but we'd better get them out of the way because they apply:

Every character is unique and they way they act and think and feel tends to be a product of some mix of what they look like, how their body works or doesn't, how their brain works and doesn't, their "personality", what they were taught, their unique experiences, and the situation/society they are currently in. There are patterns (which is why we get tropes) but the fun thing is that small things can make big differences. So to write an authentic character, it helps to have a fairly clear sense of at least some of those elements and do some imagining about how all of that would funnel into the moment your writing.

The amount to which you describe character bodies and the style which you use to describe them tends to depend on genre, what the heck is going on in your story, the pov you're writing from, the reason you're writing etc. So their are no hard or fast rules. There may be norms for certain styles of fiction, but then it's up to you to decide if it's stronger for you to lean into those norms or to write "against" them at a particular moment.

In order to be more respectful and less harmful to fat people (especially if you see value in actively challenging the anti-fat status quo), you may have to change how you describe all bodies in your work, as well the attitudes both fat people and non fat people have about bodies in general.

Now that that's out of the way... let's get specifically to my thoughts on writing fat characters. I'm going to divide this part into tips for DESCRIBING FAT BODIES, FAT BODIES IN SPACE, and THINKING AND FEELING IN A FAT BODY.

TIPS FOR DESCRIBING FAT (OR OTHER) BODIES

I would say that both consistency and diversity across the work is important, by this I mean :

Consistently describe bodies in about the same amount of detail across your work for the same type of character regardless of body type. So protagonists should get about the same depth and breath of body descriptions as each other regardless of body type. Same goes for vilalns, supporting characters etc. Sometimes people are mute about the look and shape of "strait sized" character bodies (because what's to describe - they are just "normal") but then spend a bunch of time on "other sized" bodies or vice versa (in this case, the fat body is erased usually because of some form of internalised fat hate or phobia paired with "if you can't say anything nice" don't say anything at all.) If you're doing either of these things, I'm not saying it's wrong and has to be fixed- I'm just saying it's a flag that you may want to think about why you are writing differently about different body types and what your work is saying about what bodies have value and which don't.

Diversity Bodies in the real world come in a lot of different shapes and sizes (I know I know obvious woman strikes again) but if you are writing stories with fairly large casts and everyone has the same body type - there better be a good reason for it within the narrative. Truthfully there are cases where this does make sense to some degree... if you're writing about a group where there are physical requirements and standards for the folks in that world (ballet dancers, fire fighters, cops, soldiers, fbi agents) there may or may not be less diversity in body type and more homogeneous attitudes to body norms within the group - and certainly those who are outside of the norm may be commented on or feel like they are "other". But if you are in a more free setting - if you write without a diversity of body types - especially in settings where there is diversity - that is probably a clue that you're not thinking enough about what your various characters look like and may be "normalizing" one type of body over others. Similarly, if you are writing about a real time and place where there is evidence that there were fat bodies and you have none...that's another flag to ask yourself why.

The magical tools in your toolkit for describing fat and other bodies: Body neutrality and POV

Body neutrality is about not loving bodies and not hating bodies just accepting bodies as they are....or in this case describing them as they are. No poetic language. No judgement. Just this is what this character looks like. If you're struggling to do this, I suggest doing a body map for at least two characters with different body types - possibly one that you find easy to think of positively (in this case likely someone thin or at least fit) and one that you find more difficult to describe positively (in this case someone fat).

Describe them head to toe, naked and then clothed, in detail - acurately but not poetically. Start with their feet and then work up bit by bit. Pay attention to things like hair, scars, shape of joints, acne, tightness or looseness of skin, colour of skin, nails, fat, lack of fat, muscle tone, where do they hold their stress, what's in the bowels, how well they do or don't work, do they have their appendix, what they ate last, proportions (is their torso long or short compared to their legs), lungs - how much do they hold, are they healthy? - now describe their throat, shoulders, hands, hair, then end with face.

The only rule is no positive or negative connotations to anything. it's neither good nor bad that they have stretch marks - they just do and they have faded to silver. Now that you "see them' clearly - now look at them through the eyes of someone who loves them in a familial way...what do they see most? what words do they use? now through someone who is attracted to them sexually and love them and aren't ashamed...what do they see most? what words do they use? Now through the eyes of someone who hates them or wants to change them? or a child? or a dog? Now... how does your character feel about these descriptions? Now you have a variety of words you can draw on to describe the body and you also should have a fairly good idea of what is a more skewed view of the body and a more realistic view.

Also...it can be helpful to remember there are no consistently good or bad words to describe bodies - it depends on context and who is using the words. It's a lot like how sick can be used to describe something negatively or positively depending on the agreed upon meaning of the word by a group.

DESCRIBING BODIES IN SPACE/MOTION

Ok here's the thing - for every activity you can think of - there is a fat body that does it well and a fat body that can't do it easily or at all and there are a lot of reasons for both. Often it has to do with the fact that a lot of equipment is built for people who are 250lbs or less; and anything for bigger people tends to cost a premium. Also, if it's not an easy new skill to acquire with the body you've got...it may take longer and more bravery to keep pushing through to achieve mastery. People may try to discourage you from pursuing things. Sometimes out of prejudice, sometimes out of impatience, sometimes out of caring.

So deciding what your character's body can do easily and what it can't and why is more important than me giving you a list of words for how to describe fat movements.

My suggestion is: do your research. What sorts of body types have done the activity in the real world? What are the exceptions? What changes? So for example if a fat person is climbing a mountain - do they need more help? Different equipment? A different route?

Things to consider:

- equipment / things that can have weight limits: bunk beds, roller coasters, scooters, waterslides, camping chairs, elevators, trampolines, some bikes, life jackets (finding one that fit was a nightmare), exercise balls, airline seats (learning to ask for the seatbelt extender without second thought or shame was a lifesaver)

- not all fat people have pain, those who do will move taking into account the specifics of the pain - same as a lean person

- when I was pregnant I just got more cylindrical and did not get a classic belly. I moved well and easily all the way through my pregnancy, I had none of the back pain or ankle pain some people get. I stood for a lot of my labour. I gave birth on my hands and knees. Other fat people will have had different experiences of pregnancy...but that was mine.

- clothing can have a huge impact on what bounces or jiggles and what doesn't

- most (but not all) fat people I know are particularly sensitive to appearing sweaty or smelling bad

- how winded someone gets is not directly correlated to body size, neither is heart rate or breathing style; I have theatre training and grew up swimming - I breath very slowly and very deeply normally - so when I talk a slow deep breath...it is very slow and deep indeed. I have always been fat but can swim forever - I have always gotten winded and kind of dizzy running... Other fat people may be opposite.

- people do not "see fat" consistently. People regularly underestimate how fat I am (by 100+ pounds or many clothing sizes) because I am short, well spoken, proportioned in a way that is seen as fairly typical, and very mobile and very light on my feet. Someone who weighs less than me but is slower moving, dull witted, in a sour mood, is illl, or poorly dressed may be perceived as much heavier than than someone the same weight or heavier who is behaving/clothed differently (which can change how much fat hate someone experiences) and definately heavier than they are. Height also changes how people perceive weight.

- many stores still don't carry plus sized clothing, but eventually i sort of got used to it - although some days it makes me angry and other days sad

- chairs with arms or the occasional booth can be uncomfortable or just plain impossible to sit in, it's probably partly my ADHD but I often forget this until it happens; for taller and fatter people than me this can be a much more regular occurrence.

- once (if) a character figures out how to dress/move their body in a way that feels comfortable and meets general standards (or at least theirs) of respectability - they may not think that much about their body...or at least until something external draws attention to it

- I don't like feeling like I'm squishing people, so I will make myself small and still on buses or at the theatre, I also don't like sitting on laps or being lifted or carried.

- I often feel much taller than I actually am - except when I am standing right beside someone taller or am trying to reach something on a high shelf. The same principle applies - I feel larger next to smaller people and smaller next to larger ones.

- clothing and what I'm carrying also changes how I move (just like my lean counterparts)

- I don't lounge, my car seat is set almost straight but I sit further back than my brother in law who has a similar height and weight - he leans the seat back but pulls closer. I don't nap. My leaner husband both lounges and naps.

- some fat folks eat, walk, and move quickly - some slowly; figuring out which your character does, when they behave "out of character", and why these are their preferences will go a long way to creating an authentic feeling fat character

- acne is a thing and learning to accept ones rolls and tummy aprons (and thus take care of them properly) is a common challenge; although many do it naturally without thinking much of it. You lift your breasts and wash underneath - you lift you belly and wash underneath.

- fat bodies have the same reactions as everyone else: they tingle, burn, get numb, get goose bumps, like to be touched in certain places and in certain ways, feel the breeze, get hot, get cold, shiver, stretch, relax, get aroused, feel release, hold tension, feel capable and strong, feel weak...no matter who you are sitting in a chair that's too small for you will put pressure on your body and feel uncomfortable or safe ..you can explore what that is like. Sometimes it is a reassuring sensation. Sometimes it is uncomfortable. This is the same for fat bodies. It just may happen more frequently and depending on your character's context and experience the emotional reaction / thoughts that are generated may be a bit different.

THINKING AND FEELING IN A FAT BODY.

I think I touched on some of this in some of the earlier sections...but here I want to talk a bit about my experience of being fat and my thoughts about it - your fat characters may or may not feel similarly...but my hope is that you at least think about options as opposed to only writing one or two types of fat character.

I mainly "feel" fat in moments when it is pointed out to me or I am limited in what I can do because of it

I quite like my body, it is my home and I feel very connected to it's features. In my experience this is unusual for many people in North American society regardless of actual body shape or weight. Sometimes I feel guilty for not hating my body the way "I am supposed to" and wonder vaguely if my body would be different if I could hate it more (although as I get older I doubt it).

I do feel some pressure to be a cheerful "good" fat person as a way to stay safe and survive.

Nothing makes people more uncomfortable than me calling myself fat without judgement or asking for accomodation matter of factly. It took me a long time to feel comfortable doing so, but I do it now all the time and it makes my life better.

I felt some pressure to be the fun friend who people feel comfortable eating whatever they wanted with and I often felt like I was depended on to order dessert so they could too. This may have been all in my mind though.

Fat bellies can be very intimate places.

Not all fat people have dieted, but many have. I was lucky enough to never be forced into a diet. I did try keto once but it was a bit intense and nuts so I stopped. I learned a bunch doing it though.

Medical people not treating you appropriately when your fat is 100% a thing.

Internalised fat hate and fat phobia is a thing for many fat people and it pops up at weird moments.

I don 't.give a damn about being in a bathing suit. As long as it fits and my boobs and butt.aren't.falling out - I am happy and feel very attractive. In fact I am probably at my most comfortable in a bathing suit or naked. My body is mine in both those instances.

To reach the "healthy weight" for my height - I would have to lose half of my body mass. That is a lot of me to loose. Embarking on something like that would be totally different than loosing 5 or 10 pounds. Trying to navigate the various medical opinions about whether being fat is bad or not is exhausting.

For me, being fat and older is easier than being fat and younger. This could easily be the opposite for someone else.

Some fat people are into sex, some are not . Some folks are into sex with fat people and some are not. Some are nice about it. Some are not. Some want nice. Some do not.

Fat people are all around you living their best life or their worst life or somewhere in between. We know we are fat. We sometimes care and sometimes don't.

Ok that's it. I don't know if it will help anyone or if it's just a collection of rambles - but at the end of the day...fat people are just people. We are not going to go away. We are all sorts. We are the heroes of our own stories. We are people who are loved, depended on, hated, ignored, and/or spotlighted.

Some fat people think about being fat all the time. Some rarely. Just please don't erase us or other us.

Just by taking the step to interrogate your own biases and any feelings / assumptions you have about fatness/thinness is a huge step and will help limit the harm you could unintentionally do to fat people...actually to all people. Like all forms of hate and intelorance - Fat hate hurts EVERYONE. I would argue it privileges a few...but even that can be excruciating for the individuals who strive to retain that priviledge. We need to dismantle it.

#writing #writing fat characters #fat phobia #fat hate #long post #personal #body neutrality #body posititivity #writing about bodies

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ginnsbaker · 14 days

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fic: if i bleed (you'll be the last to know) (11/?)

Part Summary: You listen, and her reasons make sense, but they don't ease the tightness gripping your heart. Knowing how well Leigh understands the control she holds over you leaves you feeling exposed, almost humiliated. It feels manipulative, whether she intended it or not.

Pairing: Leigh Shaw x Fem!Reader | Word count for this part: 6.300+ | Warnings: Angst | Author's note: Buckle up you guys.

You've never looked at Leigh this way before.

Not even when she confronted you months ago, a formidable presence with a devastating revelation that shattered what you thought was a straightforward affair with a single man. Not even when she accused you of lying, or when she consistently made things difficult for you.

Now, you look at her as if she's an entirely different person. And from the way you fall back, it's obvious you don't particularly like what you see. Leigh hadn't realized just how painful it could be to be looked at in such a way. With each of your steps, panic swells inside her. Though you're only a few feet away, it feels as if you've drifted oceans apart. She can't reach you, and the growing distance makes her fear she never will.

“What did you say?” you repeat slowly, each syllable dropping like a stone—deliberate and heavy.

Your eyes, hard and cold, fix on her. It’s an unsettling sight; she'd almost prefer your anger. Anger, at least, is a familiar adversary, a clear-cut emotion she has long helmed and appeased within herself. She understands anger, knows how to quell it, how to unravel it into something resembling forgiveness or at least a truce. But this wounded belief—she doesn’t know what to do with it. It doesn’t want loud arguments or quick fixes. Instead, it seems to demand something she finds far harder to give: an explanation of motives she's not sure she fully understands herself.

“Your eyes are... enthralling?” Leigh stammers out, her voice quivering slightly as she attempts some self-preservation. She regrets the words as soon as they slip out, sounding hollow and clumsy to her own ears.

You don't laugh, or even react much at all, except to say, “You know that's not what I'm talking about.”

Leigh’s heart sinks a bit more. She winces, shaking her head, realizing the frivolous comment has fallen flat, doing nothing to undo the damage. In the end, she can’t bring herself to say what she knows you want to hear.

“After all this time, how…? How do you know about that nickname?” you ask, maintaining a façade of indifference though you can feel the cracks forming.

“I work for the website,” Leigh says, her eyes dropping to the floor when she hears you take in a sharp breath. “I used to run the advice column there. But when Matt died, I couldn't handle it anymore and I left.” She stops for a moment, her gaze flickering back to you, searching for a reaction, but you remain silent, your expression unreadable.

“They brought me back recently, just as a contributor. I wasn't sure how to tell you. It's part of how I'm trying to move on, getting back into writing, even though it feels different now,” she adds somberly.

“So, did you just read my entries and figure out it was me from what I wrote?” you ask, your voice low and uncertain.

Leigh swallows dryly, steeling herself for what she has to say next. “Not only did I read your entries,” she admits slowly, her voice a whisper of trepidation, “but I was the one replying to them.”

After her confession, Leigh struggles to meet your eyes. Her ears are filled with the loud rush of her heartbeat, thumping wildly as the seconds tick by without a word from you. Time seems suspended, and when you don't speak, move, or give any indication of your thoughts, dread begins to creep into the edges of her mind.

“I was going to tell you,” Leigh murmurs, the words barely escaping her lips. Your arms cross over your chest, sealing yourself off even more. She feels you slipping further away, when just moments earlier, you had been kissing the life out of her, as if trying to breathe her in.

This can’t be happening, Leigh thinks. It just can’t.

“When?” you scoff. “When you’re… what? Done with your revenge?”

Leigh’s brow furrows at the accusation. “Revenge?”

“Isn’t that what this is about?” you ask, retreating until your back meets the wall, leaning heavily against it. Leigh notices the fatigue etched into your features, as if the realization that she knew about your submissions and was the one responding to them is more than you can bear.

“I don’t—”

“Payback for what went on between me and Matt?”

“Y/N,” Leigh utters your name hard, like a deity in her prayers. “You’re misunderstanding this—”

“Am I?” you challenge, your voice rising. You don't care if the neighbors hear; you’ve never met any of them anyway. “I remember a ‘Gigi Herrel’ advising me to move on, to meet other people, to pursue someone else—”

Your words become stuck in your throat as you realize that ‘Gigi Herrel’ is an anagram for ‘Leigh Greer.’ How could you have missed it? How could you have been so blind?

Leigh aches to reach out to you, to touch you and reassure you that she never meant any harm, that her intentions were never what you're accusing her of. But her hands remain at her sides, afraid you might recoil or push her away. She worries that one wrong move could drive you away for good.

“I never meant to hurt you. Please, Y/N,” she begs, her voice trembling with an urgency neither of you thought she was capable of. “I was trying to protect you—from myself. I’m a mess, Y/N. I’ve been a mess since Matt…” Leigh trails off, unable to finish the sentence.

“You thought toying with my feelings was protection?”

“I wasn’t!” Leigh objects forcefully.

You slump to the ground, your strength giving out as a sharp, nail-like pain spreads through your head. You bury your face in your hands, fingers pressing into your temples, while Leigh sits across from you, her hands nervously twisting together.

Quietly, you voice your frustrations. “If it wasn't a game, then why do I feel like I've been losing all this time? Things would be fine between us, and then suddenly, you'd ignore me. My texts went unanswered, my messages unseen for days. It felt like you weren't even treating me right as a friend. I'd drive myself crazy wondering if I said something wrong or did something wrong… It feels like I'm always walking on eggshells. So, if it wasn't a game, tell me you didn't do those things on purpose. Because if not, then you were awful to me without even trying. You know that, right?”

Leigh's eyes brim with remorse. She quickly wipes at her eyes before a tear can fall, trying to maintain her composure in front of you.. “I would never play games with you,” she implores. “I've been in pieces for so long that I've forgotten what it means to be whole. When I found out about your feelings, I didn’t understand them. I couldn't see how it could happen when I wasn't my best self.

“I pushed you away because I was scared of letting you see the real me—the broken, messy parts. I thought that if you got too close, saw too much, you'd realize there wasn't much to hold onto. That eventually, you'd see me the way I see myself and end up disappointed.” Her voice trembles, betraying the strength she tries to project.

You listen, and her reasons make sense, but they don't ease the tightness gripping your heart. Knowing how well Leigh understands the control she holds over you leaves you feeling exposed, almost humiliated. It feels manipulative, whether she intended it or not.

“You knew how I felt about you, Leigh,” you say, your lips curving into a wistful smile. “I understand that you're hurting and that being scared is part of it, but it doesn't justify leaving me hanging, wondering where I stand with you, feeling like I'm just... waiting for you to decide I'm worth your time.”

Leigh nods slowly. “I realize that now, and I'm so sorry. It wasn't fair to you. I was trying to manage my own issues, but I ended up projecting them onto you.”

You look into her eyes, searching for a sign that the change you need from her is possible. “Being broken isn't a reason to break others,” you say.

Leigh flinches slightly, your words hitting home. “You’re absolutely right,” she agrees, her eyes unblinking. You can tell that if you were to list her faults, she would agree and confess to them all just to resolve things right here and now. But that's not what you want, nor what you need from her.

“Y/N,” Leigh's voice almost breaks as she says your name. “Will you forgive me?”

Yes, you think instinctively. Forgiving Leigh feels almost second nature. But actually saying it out loud right now would set a course you're not sure you're ready to follow. Trust has been strained and rebuilding it isn't as simple as uttering a single word of forgiveness.

Leigh looks at you expectantly, anxiety lining her features. “Y/N?” she repeats softly.

You understand what she's silently asking: if there's a chance to reset everything. But you're not ready to commit to an answer. Offering her any assurance now might only lead to false hopes, especially if you later decide a real relationship isn't possible. Part of you wants to give in, to return to her embrace and pick up where you left off. But another part, perhaps the more rational side, holds you back.

“Leigh, I... can we just... I need some time to think,” you finally say. Disappointment flashes across her face, almost imperceptible but unmistakably there. As Leigh stands, you expect her to quietly leave, respecting your need for space. Instead, she spins around to face you with renewed determination.

“I'm not a perfect person, okay?” she whispers, but you can still sense the rough edges around her voice. This is a side of Leigh you're all too familiar with, having felt the sting of her impatience and temper more times than you'd like. But instead of rising to the challenge, you simply feel drained—too exhausted to argue tonight.

“You don't have to be perfect, Leigh,” you say, more tired than angry. Then, almost impulsively, you ask, “Does Danny know you’re here?”

Leigh's composure slips for just a moment at the mention of his name. Guilt or surprise crosses her face like a shadow, only to vanish as quickly as it appeared. Her jaw tightens, and you sense her displeasure at the topic. “No, he doesn't know I'm here,” she says curtly.

Well, at least she’s being honest. But what were you expecting—that her presence here meant she had chosen you?

“You need some time to think too,” you say, pushing yourself up and moving toward the door. Leigh's expression stiffens as her eyes follow your movements. You open the door, gesturing for her to leave. She approaches, hesitating just short of it, her gaze searching for the right words or maybe just some reassurance, but finding neither.

“I'm sorry,” she murmurs, her defiance fading. “This isn't how I imagined tonight would go. I don't regret what happened, really, but I hate that it ended up hurting you. That's not why I came here.”

“I know,” you reply, unsure of what else to say.

Leigh starts to leave, then hesitates again just before crossing the threshold. “Can I contact you?”

You let out a sigh. "Good night, Leigh."

She swallows hard and nods slowly. “Bye,” she whispers.

You gently close the door after her and lean against it for a moment. Leigh has turned your world upside down more times than you can count, and you two haven't even truly begun.

“Do you ever just think about disappearing?”

Jules lifts her head to look at her sister. They lie side by side at the foot of Leigh's bed, with empty glasses of milk on the floor next to them and an open pack of Oreos, an invitation for the ants.

The night before, after the whole debacle with you finding out she’s been answering your advice submissions, Leigh had come home with her lips still tingling and her stomach in knots. She had almost run to her room in a huff, drawing puzzled looks from Jules and Amy, before slamming her bedroom door shut. They knew better than to ask what was wrong and wisely kept their distance. That was, until Leigh didn't come out of her room the entire morning until afternoon, except for a quick trip to the kitchen for some food, and even then, she was wearing the same clothes as the day before. A single whiff from a few feet away also made it clear she hadn't showered either.

Worried, Jules decided to intervene with a little gesture that she hoped might coax her sister out of her shell. She grabbed a packet of Oreos from the pantry and poured a glass of milk—Leigh’s comfort snack since childhood—and tapped softly on her sister's door. Leigh didn’t answer. She tried the knob, found it unlocked, and pushed the door open. The sight of Leigh, all disheveled and pale with those heavy bags under her eyes, took Jules right back to those first several days after they learned Matt had been found dead at the bottom of a cliff.

Jules lifts her head to look at her sister. “Leigh, you're scaring me. You know that, right?”

Leigh quickly shakes her head, realizing how her words sounded. “No, no, I don’t mean like that. Not disappearing in the way Matt did.” She sighs, throwing an arm over her eyes. “I just mean... rebooting, you know? Wishing we could rewind to before everything got so complicated.”

Relieved by the clarification, Jules settles back down beside her. They both gaze up at the ceiling, lost in thought.

“I wish I never tasted alcohol when I was fifteen,” Jules says suddenly.

Leigh frowns. “That bad, huh?”

Jules smiles wryly and nods. “Yeah. Some choices just stick with you, you know? Can’t undo them. Just have to live with what comes after.”

Leigh's thoughts drift as she listens to Jules, a rueful smile crossing her lips. “You know, I've got my own list of should've, would've, could've. I always thought I'd finish college, maybe become an editor or write something of my own one day.”

Jules tries to offer a silver lining. “But you don’t need a degree to be a writer, Leigh.”

“Yeah, I know,” Leigh mumbles, tracing a pattern on the bedspread absentmindedly. “It's just... having that formal education might have made things easier. Like being pushed by mentors... or the doors it would've opened, the people I would've met. But more than that, I regret not sticking it out. I quit too easily.”

Then, turning on her side with her back to Jules, she continues, “But in the end, it all circles back to Matt somehow. This… this inability to follow through really got to me after he was gone. We had so many plans, so many dreams together. And now none of them will ever happen.”

“You still really love him, don't you?”

Leigh’s answer is slow to come. “Yes,” Leigh whispers, her reply muffled slightly by the pillow. After a moment, she adds, “And no.”

Before Jules can comment on it, she continues, “It’s like… I love who we were, who he was to me. And I love all the memories, every plan we made, every silly promise. But,” she stops, picking her words carefully, “but there’s also this part of me that’s learning to live without that, to not need it so much. It feels like moving on, and that part doesn’t love the pain, doesn’t want to keep holding on if it just hurts.”

Jules reaches out, resting her hand on Leigh’s shoulder, offering a silent show of support. “And, um, does that tie into why you were so upset last night?”

Leigh's laugh is faint and strained. “Yes,” she says softly, “and no.” Then she rolls over to face Jules, burying the lower half of her face in the blankets.

“How so?”

“It’s complicated, Jules. I don’t even know where to start.”

“Alright,” Jules huffs. “I’ll guide you then. Does it have something to do with what I said about Y/N seeing Sara?”

Leigh doesn't answer. Instead, she sits up, letting the blanket fall around her lap as the steady breeze from the air conditioning causes her skin to prickle with goosebumps.

Jules sits up as well. “It's fine to be upset over her. You can grieve for others too, not just Matt. You can’t keep using him as the reason for all your pain. If you want to handle this, you’ve got to figure out what you're really up against.”

“Since when did you start playing therapist?”

Jules smirks. “Rehab over the past five years teaches you some things.”

Leigh forces a smile. She knows Jules jokes to cope, using humor to deal with everything she’s been through. Taking a breath, Leigh says, “I saw her last night.”

“I figured,” Jules says with a knowing look. “You dashed out of the house without even putting on a bra.”

Leigh covers her face, cringing. “You noticed that?”

Jules chuckles. “Well, it's not like any of us, including Mom, bothers wearing one around the house,” she jokes, and they both laugh. “So, did you actually forget to put one on, or…?”

Leigh rolls her eyes and gives Jules a light elbow to the side. “I forgot, okay?”

Jules grins, teasing, “Well, not like it got you any action considering how annoyed you looked when you got back last night.”

Leigh goes quiet, her eyes flitting around the room. “Well, actually…”

Jules leans in, eyes wide. “Oh my god, something happened?”

Leigh bites her lower lip. “We…kissed.”

Jules's brow creases together. “And it was that bad? You looked miserable and locked yourself up all day. Was it really just because of a bad kiss?”

“It wasn’t,” Leigh corrects her quickly. “It was good. Like, really good.” She must look a bit dreamy thinking back on it because Jules grabs a pillow and playfully smacks her in the face.

“Alright, be serious,” Jules says, fighting to keep a straight face. “What really happened?”

Leigh sniffs, clearly reluctant to revisit the details but she begins recounting it for Jules. She explains how she received a submission for the advice column she writes for, from someone using the pseudonym ‘EspressoEyes.’ It arrived on her birthday and was intriguing enough that she responded immediately. She had no idea it was you, but as the details matched too perfectly with your birthday surprise, she started to connect the dots. Then came another question, so on point that she couldn't chalk it up to coincidence anymore. After the kiss you shared last night, she let slip that you truly have espresso eyes.

“...and that's when everything fell apart,” Leigh finishes, flopping back onto the mattress with a bounce, face down, her hair fanning out around her.

Leigh waits for Jules to react, to say anything. But her sister doesn’t speak or even make a sound for a long time, and just as she’s about to sneak a peek at her sister, curious and a bit anxious, Jules says, “Honestly, if I were Y/N, I’d be very much horrified too.”

Leigh gives her a look that’s both curious and wary. “Yeah?”

“Telling someone you have feelings for them is scary,” Jules explains. “Imagine finding out that the feelings you’ve been hiding came out in such a vulnerable, almost embarrassing way.”

“I guess you’re right,” Leigh concedes.

“But,” Jules continues, “the real problem is that you didn't address it right after you figured it out. You let her pine for you before pulling her in.”

Leigh nods and grabs an Oreo from the floor, popping the whole thing into her mouth. “And I still don't know why I confronted Y/N about Sara right away. By the way, you're an asshole for that, Jules. Y/N isn't dating Sara.”

Jules just grins, completely unabashed. “I know. But it was fun seeing you all riled up.”

Leigh sighs, the cookie in her mouth losing its sweetness. “I feel so stupid for needing that push. I didn't even realize what was happening. It felt like being hit by a truck when I realized I wanted her. And I didn't trust it, you know? Especially since I haven't even been into women since my ex in college.”

Jules studies her sister thoughtfully. “So, what now that you've messed up?”

Leigh looks away, her face shrouded with uncertainty. She wishes she had a definite answer, but she knows only time will tell. “She said she needs some time to think, and I'll give her as much as she needs.”

“And in the meantime,” Jules asks, her eyes brightening with a bit too much enthusiasm, “are you going to break up with Danny?”

“Right,” Leigh mutters weakly, “I almost forgot about Danny.”

You carefully place your rental bike against the railing on the front porch, careful not to scratch the paint. After spending a year in sunny Los Angeles, the crisp autumn air of Camden, Maine, nips at your cheeks, reminding you just how unaccustomed you've become to the cold. You pull your bomber jacket tighter around your body, a futile shield against the chill, and find yourself yearning for the relentless sun that’s now hiding above the clouds of your hometown.

The aroma of blueberry pie wafts from the slightly ajar front door of the Ranch style home where you spent most of your childhood, drawing you irresistibly towards the warmth inside. From where you stand, you can see the boats bobbing in the harbor, their masts swaying gently in the breeze. You can nearly taste the ocean’s saltiness, brought back vividly through memories of sailing with your father.

“Mom?” you call out as you step inside after removing your shoes. “I’m home!”

Your mom appears from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a flour-dusted apron. She looks up, her eyes lighting up when she sees you, and she quickly closes the distance to wrap you in a tight hug. Over the years, she’s grown shorter, now standing three inches below you. As she hugs you, you rest your cheek on her salt-and-pepper hair, which smells sweetly of sugar and blueberries.

“Welcome home, honey,” she says, her voice muffled against your jacket. “I wasn't expecting you until dinner.”

“I managed to catch an earlier flight,” you say, squeezing her a little tighter. “Where's Morris?” you ask, referring to her partner and the man who's been sort of a stepdad to you, although your mom and he never got married. They've been sharing this home for the last ten years.

“He's out back,” she replies, pointing towards the yard through the kitchen window. “He's been trying to get the garden ready for winter before the frost sets in.”

You hum in response, dropping your duffel onto the couch nearby.

“Are you hungry?” your mom asks, turning towards the fridge.

“Am I too early for the pie?” you ask, your stomach rumbling at the thought.

Your mom turns around with a wide, toothy grin. “You made it just in time.”

Your bedroom is just as you left it last year, preserved in time. Your mom has kept the dust at bay, and the sheets feel freshly laundered, as if you'd only left them hours ago. Instinctively, you gravitate towards the shelves lined with various framed photos of your family. Smiling faces of your brother and your father gaze back at you from the pictures, and a warm, nostalgic smile spreads across your face. You feel a pang of yearning for them—it's been too long.

With a sigh, you collapse onto the bed and pull out your phone. As promised, Leigh hasn’t made any attempts to reach out to you. Without thinking, you browse through her social media accounts, though there's nothing new since you discovered she knew about your feelings all along. Nonetheless, you scroll through her old photos, the ones from before she was widowed, where her smiles seem effortless and full of confidence, as if happiness was her default.

You miss her; that much you can't deny. But you're still hurt, not just because she didn't come clean about her discovery, but also because of the way she often treated you—the hot and cold attitude, the confusion, the lack of kindness and consideration. Time and again, you've given her the benefit of the doubt, especially considering she's grieving a loved one with a secret that further complicated his passing. You understand loss, having faced it yourself, but you've never allowed your grief to justify lashing out at others or toying with someone's emotions. It makes you wonder how you even fell for her in the first place.

Before you know it, your eyelids grow heavy and you nod off, your phone slipping onto the comforter. You're not sure how long you've been out when a soft knock on your door jolts you awake.

“Come in,” you mumble, still half in a daze as you rub your eyes.

The door creaks open and your mom pops her head in. “Dinner's almost ready,” she says with a warm smile. “Want to come down and help me set the table?”

You nod. “Can you give me five minutes? I promise I'll help.”

Without waiting for a response, she walks over to sit beside you on the bed, gently stroking your hair as if you were still a child. “What’s wrong?” she asks softly. Your mother has always been your confidante, able to read you like an open book. You can't hide anything from her; she'll know.

“I keep falling for the wrong person,” you say, offering a bittersweet smile.

“Oh, honey,” she murmurs, kissing your forehead. “Love is more complicated than the right or wrong person. We're all a combination of good and bad; it's just a matter of deciding whether it's worth it in the end.”

You reflect on your past relationships, few though they are, and realize you're better off without them. They were either taking what they could get or using you as a fallback for their own misery.

“Do you feel like this person could be worth it?” she asks.

“I honestly don’t know,” you say. “It’s all so uncertain.”

“And that's fine,” she says. “Love isn't a sprint. Give yourself the space to figure it out.”

You're finding it hard to agree with her. If only the answers could be handed to you, saving you from future heartbreak. Why do some lessons have to be learned the hard way? Why don't people come with warnings and expectations?

Noticing how unconvinced you seem, your mom offers an idea.

“Tell you what, let's ask Morris to set the table for us. How about you and I go see your brother and father before dinner?”

You and your mom walk side by side through the cemetery, hands clasped together. You haven’t visited your father and brother’s graves in over a year, and you've been fighting back tears since leaving the house.

Your mom unfurls a thick blanket over the damp grass, spreading it out with care before you both settle onto it. She surprises you by pulling out a bottle of white wine from her bag. You lift an eyebrow, and she laughs, saying, “In my defense, I used to drink stronger liquor back in the day.”

You chuckle, picking up an empty glass and holding it out. “Pour me one.”

She fills your glass before pouring her own, and the two of you sit there, sipping wine quietly.

A few minutes later, she turns to you and says, “So, tell me about her.”

You nearly choke on your drink, surprised she knows it’s a woman. “How did you know?”

She smiles impishly. “You’ve always had poorer judgment when it comes to girls, so I figured this is what’s been on your mind.”

You can’t help but be impressed by how well she reads you. “Her name is Leigh. She's the wife of someone I used to see,” you say.

Your mom’s smile vanishes, replaced by shock. “Wait, you're saying you had an affair and now you're seeing his wife on the side?”

You burst into laughter at her horrified expression. “No, it's not like that.” Taking a deep breath, you tell her the whole story: how Matt died and how his wife, Leigh, found you after discovering Matt had cheated on her.

As your mom listens, her shock softens into contemplation. She tops up your wine and says thoughtfully, “Well, that’s complicated.”

“Yeah, it is.”

You open up to your mom about Leigh, sharing both the beautiful and terrible moments without holding back. As you recount the story, it's like rereading a passage in a book and analyzing it with new eyes. When you finish, your mother sets down her drink and says, “She's mean to you.”

You nod, draining the last of your wine.

“Loss does things to people,” she says softly. “You and I both know that better than anyone.”

“We do,” you say quietly.

Your mom regards you for a moment, then asks, “What do you see in Leigh? Why do you like her?”

You think about it, grappling with how to express the spectrum of emotions Leigh evokes in you.

“She’s pretty, definitely, and there’s a sharpness to her that’s... captivating. She’s unapologetically herself, and it’s often really funny. But… does that sound shallow? I can’t help but feel a bit foolish listing these superficial things—”

Your mom gently places her hand on yours, stopping your words. “You don’t need a poetic reason to love someone,” she says with a small smile. “Sometimes you just do. But mostly, we feel connected to people because we recognize some part of our soul in them. Recognition is why people are together, Y/N. Can you really love a stranger?”

Perhaps it’s true. Leigh isn’t really a stranger to you. Aside from concealing her knowledge of your feelings, she never pretended to be someone she wasn't. She was honest, showing you both her strengths and flaws. And you didn’t have to like all of it. But you kept coming back, eager to uncover more of her layers.

She continues, “By the way, you must be wondering why I brought you here.”

You glance around at the headstones of your father and brother, then back at her. “Yeah, I was.”

She looks toward the gravestones, her eyes misty. “To remind you that we don’t have all the time in the world. We have to make our time count, even if it means taking risks or facing things we're afraid of. Love isn't easy, but it’s worth finding the right person and making it work.”

“What if it doesn't work out, though?” you ask.

She smiles knowingly. “If it doesn’t, at least you’ll know you gave it a chance. You won't be left wondering what could have been. And that matters.”

She gives your hand a reassuring squeeze, and you return it, feeling a bit more grounded. She waits for her words to settle in you, before asking, “You’ve already made your choice, haven’t you?”

You nod slowly, a growing sense of certainty welling up inside. “I think I have.”

“Well, then. Let’s finish our bottle and head back.”

“You waited until after Thanksgiving dinner to break up with me?” Danny's voice cracks as he speaks, his figure looming in the doorway of his apartment, blocking Leigh's exit. His eyes dart between anger and desperation, his eyebrows furrowed and his mouth set in a stern line. Yet, his hands are open, reaching toward her—pleading.

They had just returned from Thanksgiving dinner at the Shaws'. Leigh wanted to create one last pleasant memory with Danny, something kind to look back on. Aware of his strained relationship with his mom, she didn't want to leave him alone during the holidays by breaking up earlier. Now she accompanied him back to his apartment, planning to end things there and collect her belongings afterward.

Leigh turns to face him, her expression somber. “I just... I thought it was the right time to talk, after everything settled down.”

“After everything settled down?” Danny repeats incredulously. “You mean after we spent the whole day with your family, pretending everything was fine?”

Leigh sighs, knowing how it looks but needing him to understand. “I know how it seems, but I couldn't do it before dinner. It didn’t feel right to ruin the holiday for everyone.”

Danny steps back from the doorway, giving her space to enter. “So, you decided to ruin my night instead?”

Leigh walks inside, closing the door behind her. “I'm really sorry, Danny. I’ve felt for a while that this isn’t working, and I can't keep stringing you along.”

Danny runs a hand through his hair and starts pacing. “Is this about Matt?”

Leigh stills for a moment, considering her answer. It would be easy to say yes, to blame everything on that one pervasive loss. Matt has often been her scapegoat, but Leigh is tired of deceiving herself and others. For quite some time now, it hasn't been Matt’s absence that's been upending her world. Which is why she resolves to tell him the truth, aware that he would find out sooner or later.

Leigh sucks in a deep breath and looks Danny in the eye. “No, it's not about Matt. It's because of Y/N.”

Danny stops in his aimless tracks, his eyes narrowing. “Y/N?”

Leigh feels her heart race, knowing she can’t back down now. “Two weeks ago… we kissed.”

He blinks, stunned. “You kissed Y/N?” His voice is flat, almost disbelieving.

“It wasn’t planned, but... it happened. And it felt right, in a way I can’t ignore,” Leigh says.

Danny crosses his arms, scoffing. “I didn't know you were into women,” he says with a sneer, as if trying to insult her.

Leigh grits her teeth. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

“Clearly,” he replies bitterly. “So how many times? How long have you been cheating on me?”

Leigh shakes her head, holding her ground. “I didn’t purposely cheat on you, Danny. I didn’t even realize I had strong feelings for her until that night. It just happened.”

Danny's face contorts with rage, and he yells, “Stop lying to me, Leigh! You fucking checked out of this relationship a while ago, and now it makes sense. You were screwing someone else on the side.”

Leigh protests, “We’ve never slept—” but her words are cut off as Danny suddenly swings his fist into the wall beside him. The sound of splintering wood and cracking bones reverberates through the apartment, and Leigh stands frozen, shocked beyond belief at what she's witnessing.

Danny looks down at his bloodied knuckles, bewilderment creeping over his features as he pulls back from the wall. He catches his breath and stares at Leigh, their eyes meeting in horrified silence.

“Sorry… I’m so sorry,” Danny mumbles, cradling his injured hand.

Leigh quickly grabs his keys from the dusty fishbowl on the shelf. He watches her, his gaze confused and desperate. “What are you doing?”

She meets his eyes, surprised herself at how calm and collected she feels. “I’m taking you to the hospital. You need to get that hand looked at,” she replies.

He doesn’t protest, only nods numbly and follows her outside.

At the hospital, Danny sits in a stiff plastic chair, his freshly bandaged hand resting on his lap. Leigh is next to him, her eyes fixed on the speckled tile floor, avoiding his gaze.

After several minutes, Danny breaks the silence. “I didn’t know what happened back there,” he starts, his voice low and unsteady. “I didn’t want to be angry, but it just… it had to go somewhere. I’ve never hurt anyone, if that’s what you’re thinking,” he tries to explain.

Leigh turns to look at him, her expression blank. “You punched a wall, Danny. It doesn’t matter if you’ve never hit anyone; you’ve got some serious anger management issues.”

Danny stays quiet for a moment, staring at his bandaged hand as if he’s still trying to comprehend what he did. He finally looks up, his expression twisted in frustration. “I’ve been angry for a long time, Leigh. Long before Matt was gone. I can’t even remember a time when I wasn’t.”

“I understand that,” Leigh says, shifting in her seat. “Even with therapy, the anger and resentment don’t really disappear completely. They linger like shadows.” She exhales, glancing down at her lap. Before she can stop it, a small smile plays on her lips as she thinks of you. “But lately, when Y/N is around, I forget about it. So know that I didn’t make this decision lightly.”

Danny studies her for a moment before asking, “Did you ever love me? Did I ever stand a chance?”

There's no easy way to say this without hurting him, but she doesn’t want to leave him with false hope. “I tried, Danny. I wanted to,” she whispers.

Danny turns away, his body twisting from her. Leigh wants to feel worse than she does, but instead, she just wants this to be over. She hopes the billing clerk will soon call their name so they can pay and head home. It's been an unbearably long day.

As she waits, her thoughts drift to you. She wants to call you after this, to tell you that she wants to try with you, that it could be real. She wants to explain that she ended things with Danny, that she did it to be free to explore the possibility of being with you, without any reservations.

After a while, Danny lets out a slow sigh, then looks at Leigh with a despondent look. “If your mind’s made up, I should probably put everything out in the open too.”

Leigh looks at him expectantly, a little curious.

“I’ve been keeping something from you. I didn’t think it would matter, but now… well, I can’t hide it anymore.”

“Just say it, Danny,” Leigh says, crossing her arms.

Then Danny proceeds to tell her the one last secret he thought he'd carry to his grave.

#unbetad #my writing #my fic #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen #leigh shaw x reader #leigh shaw x female reader #leigh shaw #sorry for your loss au #leigh shaw x you #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #sorry i had to tag wanda x reader for visibility

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bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky · 7 months

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Scared Half to Death | Bucky Barnes x reader

Hi! I haven't posted a fic in forever. School has been a nightmare.

I literally wrote this in under an hour lol it's very short and not my best. But I just wanted to get something kinda Halloween-y out there in time to celebrate!

🎃👻🎃👻🎃Happy Halloween! 👻🎃👻🎃👻

Warnings: blood, Bucky's anxiety, injury

Bucky pulled his hand from the doorknob with a disgusted expression. A thick, sticky substance coated his palm and dotted his fingers. He rolled his eyes at whichever small child had covered his door handle in candy residue while he was gone. But just as he tried to wipe the syrupy remnants on his jeans, the color caught his eye. The flash of red sent shockwaves through his system.

He’d stepped away from the apartment for just a few minutes, only long enough to replenish his candy supply for the next wave of trick-or-treaters. But in the short time that he was gone, something terrible- something violent- must’ve taken place.

He dropped the candy to the floor and struggled to yank his keys from the lock, his hands shaking with anxiety. And when he finally burst through the door of the apartment he shared with you, he only found more carnage.

Droplets of blood dotted the floor. They coagulated against the tile and wormed their way into the grout, staining it red. Bucky’s stomach turned. A leaden knot formed in his gut and weighed him down like an anchor. Where were you? Was this your blood? Were you hurt- were you dead?

He followed the gruesome path like a trail of breadcrumbs, fearing what he’d find at their end. Only a few hours ago, everything was perfect. He’d sat with you as you got dressed for your best friend’s Halloween party. He rested on the bed you shared and delighted in watching you dance around the room as you did your make up and put on your costume.

“Are you sure you don’t wanna come?” you asked as you shimmied into your costume.

“I’m sure, baby. It’s not really my thing,” he shrugged. “You know how I am with big crowds. Plus, Halloween is a little weird for me. People dress as my friends-” He swallowed hard, “people dress as a version of me that I try not to think about… it’s just not for me.”

“Yeah…”

Silence filled the room. Guilt coursed through your body with each beat of your heart. Part of you itched to change out of your costume and forget the whole thing.

“You know, I don’t have to go-”

Bucky stood from the bed and made his way to your side, “Yes, you do.”

A stern expression crossed your face, “I really don’t. And I shouldn’t ditch you for a stupid party-”

“You’re not ditching me,” he said. “You love this party! You look forward to Kelly’s-” he paused, struggling to remember the name of the shindig. “What does she call it again? Her Creep-Tastic?”

You laughed, “Spook-tacular!”

“Right!” Bucky rolled his eyes at his attempt. “You look forward to her Spook-Tacular every year! And I’m not gonna let you miss it just because I don’t wanna go.” He took your face in his hands, careful not to mess up your make up. Never had anyone made him felt so loved, so cared for. You put him first at every turn, prioritizing his wellbeing and his mental health above all else. You sacrificed so much for him in the early stages of your relationship; the last thing he wanted was for you to miss out on the party you’d looked forward to for the last eleven months.

“Seriously, doll, I’m gonna be fine. I’ll hand out candy to the kids and watch some tv,” he shrugged. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

It wasn’t a trick or a test; Bucky didn’t secretly hope you’d choose him instead of the party. He only wanted you to be happy. And you knew he meant every word he said.

“Okay. Then tell me…” you did a quick spin, “how do I look?”

Bucky eyed you up and down, drinking in the neon pink and highlighter yellow leotard. The electric yellow kneepads. The pink visor. The bright yellow high-top sneakers.

“You look amazing, Barbie. You belong in the Dream House!”

Not soon after that, you left. He’d walked you to your Uber and made you promise to be safe. He’d told you that he loved you. And that was the last time he saw you.

Until now.

The trail of blood ended with you. Bucky discovered you sprawled on your back on the living room rug, your body soaked with blood. Smears of red coated your neck and stained your arms. Your clothes were saturated with gore. This Barbie didn’t belong in the Dream House; she belonged in a nightmare.

“Oh, god-” Bucky made his way to your side and sunk to his knees, breathless. “Baby, hey- can you hear me? Open your eyes, look at me-” His fingers traced your neck in search of a pulse, desperately scrounging for even a flutter of life.

And there it was- your pulse. You were still alive; your heart still managed to beat despite the blood loss.

But Bucky’s gratitude only lasted a moment. He still had to find your wound and stop the bleeding. He had to call 911. He had to keep your heart beating.

His hands scrounged across your abdomen in search of a stab wound or evidence of a gunshot. But just as he reached for your side, you made a sound.

Did he heard that right? Did you… giggle?

“Whaaaaaaat’re you doin’, Barnes?” you laughed. “Don’t tickle meeeee!”

Bucky’s gaze shot from your blood-soaked clothes to your face. “Baby?”

“Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii, Barbie!” you slurred, your face plastered with a smile. “Oh, nooooo- wait, you’re just Ken!” A fit of laughter exploded from your chest as you sang, “I’mmm juuuuust KEN! Anywhere elssssse, I’d beeee a TEN-” A sudden contemplative look banished your lighthearted spirit. “But you reeeeally are a ten, Buck… and I mean that.”

Bucky remained frozen. He was lost, confused. Were you woozy from blood loss? Or alcohol? Were you even hurt? Did you need an ambulance or a cold shower?

“Baby, are you hurt? Are you okay?” He took your face in his hands, “Why are you covered in blood?”

“Because this Barbie hugged her friend!”

A befuddled expression took over Bucky's face. "What?"

The room spun as you struggled to sit up. Bucky’s heart leapt into his throat; if you were hurt, you needed to lie down. You needed to stop moving and let him dress your wound. But you moved without wincing, without crying out in pain. Sure, you swayed from side to side just a little in your intoxicated state. But that was the worst of it.

“I huuuuuugged Kelly! But Kelly was aaactually Carrie! Y’know, the girl covered in pig’s blood,” you laughed. “It kiiiinda ruined my costume a little. Buut, now I look like Scary Barbie! So s’okay.”

A deep sigh of relief filled Bucky’s lungs. He rocked back off of his knees and plopped down onto his butt. His bloody hands covered his face. “Then what are you doing on the floor, sweetheart?”

“Sometiiiiimes… sometimes ya just gotta lay on the floor. Y’know?” You shrugged, “And I didn’t wanna get allllll the blood on the couch.”

He nodded.

"I guess I fell asleep for a hot sec," you shrugged. "I was just waiting on ya to get home."

Bucky did his best to regulate his breathing, to calm the aggressive tsunami of anxiety that drowned his every cell. His entire world came crashing down the moment he found you on the floor, and now, he had to put it back together.

“You okay, Buck? I came home early cause I missed yooou- I missed you sooooo much,” you placed a bloodied hand on his face. “But I didn’t mean to ruin your night to yourself. I’m sorry…”

“No, you didn’t ruin anything. It’s not that at all. It’s- baby, I thought…” he shook his head. “I thought you were hurt. I thought you were…” He didn’t want to finish his sentence.

“Ohhhhh no, I’m fine! I’m okay! I’m druuuunk…” you laughed, “But I’m okay!”

Bucky pulled you close, grateful that the blood clinging to your skin came out of a bottle. "I know that now, I'm just..." he took a deep breath. "It's just gonna take a minute for my body to catch up with my brain." He let his hand roam up and down your spine. He needed to feel you breathe, feel your voice vibrate against his palm. Seeing you like that- bloody and unresponsive- on the floor of the home you shared nearly scared him to death.

This wasn't the kind of Halloween scare that flooded your system with pins and needles and left you laughing. No, this stripped him of all breath, of all ability to think. It cut him to the bone.

He never wanted to imagine you getting hurt, about you getting killed. For him, losing your was a fate worse than death.

The two of you sat there together in the quiet calm as Bucky remembered how to breathe. He held onto you as tightly as he could without leaving bruises, and didn't care than you'd stained his white shirt with your gory mess.

“I’m glad you’re home, doll. And that you’re okay," he said after his heart returned to its normal pacing. "I just- I didn’t expect Bloody Barbie.”

You shrugged, “no one ever does.”

Bucky let out a loud laugh that echoed off the walls and made your heart flutter. “Alright, we need to clean you up and get you to bed, baby. I think we’ve both had enough Halloween shenanigans for the year.”

You allowed him to help you to your feet and guide you to the bathroom for a much needed shower. He was always there for you when you needed him, even without you asking. You knew he'd protect you, do anything for you- he'd even scrub fake blood from your nail beds.

"Buck?" you whispered as he helped you into bed.

"Yeah, baby?"

"You're soooo much better than Ken."

He knew it was a genuine, drunken compliment, but it nearly made him burst out laughing. "Thank you, doll. Yeah, I prefer Allan anyway."

"Saaaaaaame," you sighed, melting into your pillow.

Bucky tucked the covers around you and made sure your water was within reach. He placed a kiss to your forehead, once again thanking his lucky stars that you were home safe.

"Goodnight, Barbie."

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stayconnecteed · 28 days

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🪐˓⠀˚⠀foggy glass⠀@⠀hwang hyunjin.

it wasn't something you were in the habit of doing, but it wasn't usually something you could avoid. after all, it was practically impossible to resist your boyfriend when he looked that way. it hadn't even been your fault, you had only done what he asked you to do⠀★⠀1k words

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀; general m.list⠀☆⠀join taglist .ᐟ

content: smut,, sub!hyunjin, messy blowjob, mentions of biting / neck kisses. plot,, hyunjin tries to tease you, but it ends with him shuddering under your touch in his car. credits,, mdni banner by @cafekitsune. warnings,, if any under 18 acc interacts with this fic i'll block them. note,, no proofread, i don't even know- i wrote this in a haze ajsdhjasd

It wasn't something you were in the habit of doing, but it wasn't usually something you could avoid. After all, it was practically impossible to resist your boyfriend when he looked that way, clutching the cushioned surface of his seat with one of his hands, the other tangled in your hair, visibly overwhelmed, his pillowy lips spilling soft whimpers and his eyes fluttering, longing to memorise you but unable to keep them open for too long.

It hadn't even been your fault. He had left you a breathy audio in your chat while you were still at work, full of sighs and hurried whispers in which you could only hear his sweet voice calling for you, and then a brief message inviting you to a new restaurant that had recently opened two blocks south of his dorm. He had murmured something about dressing prettily ーyou didn't know if it was a request for you or a warning about himー, and then texted at what time he'd come to pick you up.

You had only done what he asked you to do. The fact that you had waited until you were sitting in the passenger seat to apply the gloss was a completely casual act, and had nothing to do with how much you knew Hyunjin liked the look on your face when you stared at yourself in the mirror, the pad of lipstick leaving a glossy surface on your lips that made him lick his own, almost hungrily.

He had confessed it to you a few months ago, in the middle of a hot make-out session on the sofa in the rehearsal room, when you had seized the opportunity to touch your boyfriend in the way he loved the most, no one left in the building. And you could see the reflection of his blurry gaze now, in the mirror you always carried with you, your eyes fixed in the vicious way he reacted to your motions, his eyes locked on your mouth. It was addictive, and you knew what turned him on the most was the way you looked down with a sharp gaze, the way you did when you rode him.

It was also addictive the way he responded to everything you did to him without needing to say a word. You knew he wouldn't protest if you leaned into him, but you were surprised by the hungry way his lips crashed into yours as soon as he had you close enough, all tongue and teeth, as if he intended to devour you whole. You let out an airy laugh, taking his face in your hands and ignoring the way your gloss was sticking to him, savoring its strawberry taste as soon as the kiss became so chaotic that you could only think mine, mine, mine…

You felt him give you two quick taps against your hip, hinting that he wanted you in his lap, but you ignored him, peeling your lips from his with a quick bite that left him whining for more, and pressing them against his neck, sucking above his beautiful mole, sliding your tongue over his skin and your hand down his abs until it rested over the bulge in his pants. You smiled, chuckling against his mouth, palming his erection, enjoying the way he stirred under your hands, overtaken by your touch and so adorably desperate for some friction, his throat producing the most delicious sounds.

Hyunjin tried to pull you back to him, wetting his lips as if he could feel yours on his again, or perhaps with the ghost of your last kiss still in his mouth. You tangled your hand in his hair, letting him keen towards the warmth of your palm, your breath on his skin, but tugging slightly at his locks before he could touch you. You swallowed the mewl that got stuck in his throat, and also the way his hips stuttered beneath you, and you could almost see the way his eyes slammed shut as you began to undo the button of his pants, sliding the zipper down and making him sit up a little so you could bend over his cock, pulling it out of his boxers and sucking the tip between your lips.

His shaky moan interrupted a breathless “fuck”, the sudden warm wetness around him as your gave him tentative little bobs making his head go dizzy. You tighten the hand you have around the base of his shaft, his low groan making you shiver, and you pull away for a while, your gaze falling over him. He looks completely wrecked already, his hair dishevelled by his own hand, a bead of drool about to spill from the corner of his lips.

You smile, still making eye contact with him, his cheeks stained in carmine, and kitten lick the head of his cock, swirling your tongue around it, humming. Hyunjin’s hips bucked helplessly, slurring a lazy “please, please, please” with broken voice, pouty under your touch. You slowly graze his dick with your teeth, the hiss he lets out contradicting the salty taste of pre-cum you taste on your tongue.

“Ah, ah, ahー baby, your mouthー” he slurred, his thigh tense and twitching under your hand, arousal pooling in the pit of his stomach. “Soー nghー so good…”

You pull back a second time, his whimper curving your lips, and you ask, voice hoarse “Mm-hm, feels good, baby boy?”

“Ohー Oh, God, so good” choking back a loud whine, dropping his head against the car window, his cheek sticking to the wet glass, his breathing drawing wisps of smoke against the surface, the condensation blurring the pornographic view of your boyfriend on the empty street where he had parked the car. You sank back down and suck him further into your mouth, his babblings becoming nonsense as soon as they left his lips, and you felt his cock throb in your mouth as you gently grasped his balls, feeling when he came down your throat, spilling moans into the car. You never make it to the restaurant.

#﹙ ★ ﹚⠀mars⠀—⠀writes.#stray kids scenarios #stray kids smut #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #skz smut #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin scenarios #hyunjin smut #sub!hyunjin

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bysaber · 5 months

Text

Breaking up ft. Satoru Gojo

Day 13 of 31 Days of Ficmas!

summary — you break up with your partner a few weeks prior christmas.

word count — 1.2k

content — hurt/comfort, gojo is emotionally constipated but he’s trying ok, lowercase intended

notes — today was supposed to be obito’s fic but i wrote this one first because im kinda… going thru the same thing lol. enjoy <3

everything feels out of place as you lay in bed trying to place together pieces of an unfinished puzzle.

two weeks have passed since the last time you and gojo spoke to each other. two weeks since you broke up with him, leaving a part of your heart behind.

you know you have to move on, but it’s hard when you have years of friendship and a one-year-long relationship weighing on your back. you look back to all the efforts you put into it and, foremost, you can’t completely let him go.

you always knew about gojo’s personality, in fact, you fell in love with it. but it became unsustainable when you were the one doing everything while he sat back and watched.

you used to say to him, “you are a good person. you are the best person I’ve fallen for, like a window of light in the dark.” and never once you regretted those words. you made sure to repeat them to him during the breakup.

you truly believe satoru’s a good person, and he never intended to hurt you. what defined the fate of your relationship was his inconstancy, his fear of emotions.

gojo could shower you with kisses and “i love you”s for days, but they were always half-hearted and, whenever the conversation between the two of you took a deeper turn, he would instantly shut down.

become cold, even.

he also didn’t care much about life in general, talking about several topics and simply forgetting to ask simple questions like “how was your day?”

you knew he cared, but it didn’t feel like he did.

it killed you every time he’d disappear for an entire day, especially on days you weren’t okay, not even bothering to reply to your texts, and then replying with a mere “i was busy” – you knew it already, but a text would be nice.

and to match his emotionless self, you were the embodiment of intensity.

you tried to crack up his shell, always paying attention to what he said and remembering it. you dove head first into every interest he had, and supported him in every choice he made.

you cared, you asked and, mostly, you talked.

multiple times, you tried to express how you felt, how you wish he could open up more and maybe just regard you a little more – a few texts not to worry you wouldn’t hurt. gojo said he was like that, but that he would try to be better.

what mined your relationship was that lie.

because he never even tried.

and after another month of dealing with all of that, with not feeling wanted enough, cared enough, you decided to end everything.

you can’t lie a little part of you hoped he would fight for you, ask for you to stay. but as you watched distress filling his eyes, all he could muster was, “i’m really sorry i couldn’t be better.”

and you lost everything you thought you had.

you blink away your tears, trying to escape from your painful thoughts, and get up from the bed – it’s past seven now and you need to start getting ready for a christmas party at one of your friends’ house.

you need to move on.

after taking a quick shower, you put on the red dress you’ve decided to wear – a dress that gojo bought for you months before – before starting to do your makeup.

this is when your doorbell rings.

you frown, “who is it?” you yell as you make your way toward the door, but there’s no time for an answer before you open it.

you almost close it again when you see your ex-boyfriend standing there, but you don’t. you know you need to be mature about this situation, even if seeing him makes all the walls you’ve been building crumble down.

it hurts.

“gojo.”

you don’t look him in the eye, focusing on his christmas sweater instead. funnily, the one you gave him a year ago.

“can i come in? it’s freezing outside.”

if you looked into his eyes, though, you would see the big blue bag under them. you would see how faded his blue irises are, and how fucking anxious satoru is.

you don’t ask further questions, letting him into the house he knows all too well before you close the door. he follows you like a lost puppy, and keeps standing when you sit on the couch.

“you look gorgeous,” he compliments meekly.

“thank you. what do you want?” it takes all of you to not start crying right then and there, but you know you have to be firm.

“i want you back.”

satoru doesn’t beat around the bush, and the silence that follows is so loud it can be heard. you feel your heart beating in an insane rhythm, and your head spins.

“gojo, you can’t–”

“you were right. you are right. about everything,” he interrupts you. “i was a boy, and for that i’m sorry. i acted like you had to keep up with my shit, like you would always be there, and i’m sorry for that too,” gojo speaks so fast you can barely keep up with him, like he’s going to die if he doesn’t say those words. “i thought i couldn’t change, i thought i didn’t have to. because it is easier to live the way i live, but… it is much harder to live without you.”

“gojo–”

again, he doesn’t let you speak, “don’t call me that. please, don’t call me that,” gojo drops on his knees in front of you and grabs your hand. “call me satoru, toru, baby, love for all i care. just not gojo. i’ve been miserable without you, i never thought a person could get so miserable,” his voice cracks, pulling your hand towards his face in a desperate attempt to be comforted. “i promise you i will do better, i will pay attention, text you all the time, tell you all about my past and what made me who i am, scream through my pain for what’s worth. just take me back, please.”

you are so deeply in shock that it takes you a while to register the tears falling down his face, his eyes closed as he expects the worst.

all it takes is for your thumb to caress his cheek softly, and satoru sobs. you grab his face with both of your hands, cleaning his teardrops as your own fall, and you gently kiss his forehead.

it kills you to see him like that, but at the same time it gives you a reason to live to know that he’s willing to try. for you.

you kiss his nose, his cheeks, and then his lips.

satoru whimpers, pulling you into an embrace so strong you’re afraid he’ll never let go.

“toru,” you say when you part your lips and bury your face in his neck, feeling his scent. “everything’s okay now. i’m here, i’ll take care of you.”

“missed you so much, i’m so sorry,” he whispers.

“i missed you, too,” you confess, finally looking into his eyes and frowning when you notice he hasn't slept. “what’s past is past, we’ll be okay. but i guess we should just sleep a bit, hm? it was one hell of a ride.”

“sleep together, right?”

he sounds so clingy, you chuckle lightly.

“yes, toru. together.”

#s23ficmas #wbysaber #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #gojou #x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #fanfic #angst #fluff #hurt/comfort

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astronomoney · 1 month

Text

bookends, bestfriends, deadends

Pairing + WC: Jason Grace x reader, 1.6k Warnings: slow burn, once again and as always with my love Jason this is NOT canon-compliant, Jason may be a tiny bit ooc but I tired Summary: In the months between saving Hera and setting sail for New Rome, Jason finds himself making a friend Authors note: ok, y’all, here’s the deal; I took a nap and woke up with an idea, so I started writing; then I realized I needed set up, so I wrote this. Now I have a full fic that doesn’t include my original idea, so I will have to make pt: 2, but at least it’s already almost all the way written

Camp was far too busy this year; even for the off-season, it felt like there were campers everywhere. With all the bustle, it was hard to find a moment of peace. That’s why you’d taken to the woods that day. Following the path you’d walked a million times to a little outcrop of ruins not far from the beach, deep enough to not be disturbed. You’d taken a thick blanket and draped it over a vaguely couch-shaped block of stone ages ago to use as a reading nook. It was calm and peaceful and empty, usually.

This time, when you got close enough to see your little piece of peace, there was already someone there. A blonde boy with a scar on his lip sitting on your faux couch and squinting at the book in his hand. Jason Grace. Of course, you knew who he was, everyone knew of him and Piper and Leo, all working to get ready for the next great prophecy.

Sneaking up on a former Roman soldier didn’t seem like the best plan, so you’d spoken out. “Guess this place isn’t so secret after all,” geez, what an opener.

Jason looked up with a start and got to his feet before you could say anything else. “Hi, hey, sorry, is this your spot? I wasn’t sure who’s it was, so I stayed to read some. I can go.”

“Oh no, please, you don’t have to,” you were quick to put up your hands and stop him from leaving. You two hadn’t necessarily talked before, but he had always seemed nice at meals and campfires, if not a little awkward. “You were here first. I can leave if you want to be alone.”

Jason paused, it seemed he was actually taking you in now, noticing the book in your hand, Don Quixote as opposed to the copy of War and Peace he held. “I don’t mind company,” he offered you a small nervous smile, it was so pure you had to just stare at it for a second before responding.

“Neither would I,” you finally said, returning the smile. You walked over and sat down tucking your legs under you and leaving plenty of room for Jason to sit on the other side.

He joined and read next to you for what felt like both hours and minutes. Two days later, you had beaten him there, so when he arrived, you smiled and scooted to the left, giving him room again on your right. Over the next month, you crossed paths at the ruins what must have been a dozen times. There was never much conversation; it was more of a silent agreement to enjoy each other’s company, and each day, the distance between your shoulders seemed to get ever so slightly smaller.

After a while, you got comfortable being directly next to him. Your shoulders would brush each time Jason moved to turn the page, and you couldn't help but notice how warm and strong he was. Silent meetings became small discussions about your current read, which turned into talks about other books you’d recommend to each other, which eventually morphed into a solid friendship. You would invite him to eat with your cabin since he had no one else at his. He would update you on the progress of the ship and the quest, you even got to know the other campers involved.

Over the next few months, your lives became completely intertwined. You spent most of your day with each other. You watched him train for the quest, pushing his limits in sparring sessions until he was too exhausted to do much of anything. You would drag him out to your spot in the woods on days when he’d gotten so focused he had to be forced to take a break. You’d even tried to help him get some memories back. He would eat with you, read with you, help you with whatever chores you had around camp, anything to spend more time with together.

He was the first person you turned to when you had something to say. He was the only one who remembered which campfire songs were your favorites or which books you’d reread depending on your mood. You cared about him so deeply, and you weren’t even sure how you’d come to feel so much in so little time. You truly hadn’t realized how much you needed him around you until you thought about just how soon he’d be leaving.

Of course, he would go back to Camp Jupiter; you knew that. This was never meant to be permanent; you were sure he missed his old life, his old friends, his old home. But part of you, somewhere in the deepest, most selfish part of your heart, wanted him to stay. You wanted him to forget about Rome, and Jupiter, and the quest. You wanted him to stay here with the strawberry fields and the books and the beach and with you. You wanted him to forget his sense of duty to a place that never cared and stay with someone who would give their whole heart away just to see him be happy for a moment longer. It was a feeling that filled you with guilt every time it crossed your mind.

It had occupied your thoughts nearly the entire day when Jason came to your cabin that evening. He knocked on the door until one of your siblings answered, and they called you over, muttering something about stupid and lovesick and so annoying that you hadn’t totally caught.

You stepped onto the porch and closed the cabin door, leaving Jason and you alone in the dim light of the setting son. He was handsome as ever, a fact that you had resolved not to dwell on; plenty of people found their closest friends to be stunningly beautiful, it wasn’t a big deal.

In fact, it was totally normal for someone to notice exactly when their best friend had skipped their usual haircut and started letting the military style grow or how their eyes exploded with color when the sun hit them just right. And, of course, there was no deeper reason for why you would pick up on every scrape or bruise he’d gotten from training. You were just hyper-observant, never mind that it only applied to one person.

As you took him in, scanning for the weariness you so often saw and he so often dismissed, you noticed more than anything how nervous he was. “What’s up?”

“Hey, um, I just wanted to, well.” He took a deep breath and let his words spill out a mile a minute. He told you that the Argo II would be ready to fly any day now. He told you how they were going to find Percy and how the first place they were going to check was New Rome. He brought up his old life, a life he wanted to remember, a life he thought he would remember when he got back there. These were all things you’d know and that filled you with dread, but you let him talk without interrupting. His rambling soon turned to a topic you haven’t expected, it turned to you. He told you how important you were to him, how much you’d helped him adjust to life at camp, and how much he appreciated everything you’d done for him.

As he went on and on, you felt your heart begin to pound. The way he was talking lit a spark inside your gut, and the borderline desperation in his voice made you dare to hope. The emotion in his eyes made you think maybe, just maybe, he felt the same kind of connection that you felt with him. You could tell it was going somewhere important, somewhere that made him nervous and hopefully at the exact same time.

“I guess I just realized while we were planning in the bunker,” he began to close in on his point. “How important you are to me, and I can’t imagine what it’d be like without you. You can say no of course, it’s a lot to ask of anyone but,” he took another breath. “Do you want to come with me to New Rome?”

That wasn’t exactly what you were expecting. The funny feeling in your gut shifted and morphed, flashing through disappointment for a brief moment. As Jason waited for an answer, you had to process exactly what he’d asked. Going back to New Rome meant he was going back to his old life, a fact you were all too aware of, but now, maybe you didn’t have to lose him to it. He still wanted you by his side. He still wanted you to be a part of his life.

“Yes,” you finally replied. “Yes, of course, I’ll go,” you watch the relief wash over him, his nerves visibly dispersing as one of the widest smiles you’d ever seen etched itself across his face.

In the next moment, he wrapped his arms around you. It was a bone-crushing hug that squeezed the air from your lungs, and you wrapped your own arms around him as tightly as you could. “You have no idea how happy that makes me,” he whispered to you as you tried to stop your heart from exploding. This wasn’t how you wanted it, but at least for now, this would be enough.

≻───── ⋆✩⋆ ─────≺

There's pt1 :) part two is almost done already because I wrote most of it before I even started all this, but what I can say, the keyboard got away from me. let me know if any of y'all want to be tagged in pt2 or in my general Jason taglist.

#jason grace x reader #percy jackson #writing fanfic #writing fanfiction #jason grace #jason grace x y/n #percy jackson x reader #pjo x reader #x reader #pjo x you #pjo hoo #hoo x reader #pjo hoo toa #heroes of olympus #heros of olympus x reader

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winterarmyy · 1 year

Text

Plot Twist | Part III*

An arranged marriage with mafia!bucky.

Navigation: Part I | Part II | Part III* (end) | Extra

Words: 4.8k++ (of mostly filth)

Pairing: beefy mafia!bucky x female!reader

Warnings: 18+ content, no minors allowed, nsfw, cunnilingus, p in v, unprotected sex, creampie, lots and lots of praises, bucky's filthy mouth, tiny hint of wife!kink from bucky, soft!bucky being romantic, fluffy date, reader is quite a menace at the end, honestly.

A/N: This is the last chapter because I didn't really have a long plot for this specific fic. I wrote this fic entirely out of impulse.

P/S: I have no idea what I just wrote for the smut scene; partially because english is not my first language and the rest is because I literally have no experience but I hope y'all enjoy it somehow!

Read my other works here: Masterlist

"Don't hide those noises from me, doll. I want to hear you." Bucky licked a strip up across her gushing pussy before lewdly suckling on her sensitive clit.

"Bucky." she whined so needily as if she hadn't just come on his tongue a few moments ago.

How did they even get here in the first place?

One minute Bucky was proposing to ditch the gala, that's when she decided to bring him to one of the most underrated diners in Brooklyn.

Then somehow, there was Bucky, eating her out as if he was still starving.

"Oh my, Irene is that you?" The way the old lady gasped with excitement as she walked towards the couple; Bucky was assuming she was indeed talking to his wife.

Y/N grinned with a tiny scrunch on her nose, a goofy smile that Bucky never seen before. Entranced, he didn't even notice how his heartbeats quickens, let alone process the fact that Irene was not his wife's name.

"Long time no see, Maria." Y/N didn't hesitate to be engulfed by the warm and welcoming hug from Maria as if she was one of her grandchildren.

The tight squeeze loosen up after a while, followed by a compliment, "You look absolutely stunning, sweetheart." By the way she was looking up and down at Y/N, it seems like she doesn't want to move on from the topic.

But swiftly, a frown formed on her forehead when she realizes, "But why are you having a date at my old rackety diner?" Maria was quick to read the room.

Well, it's not that hard when you see a gorgeous, well-dressed couple walk in together. Him opening the door for her, the shy smile on her lips, any excuse to have his hands on her, glimmer in those eyes of hers.

Of course, it was a date.

"Now, why would I trade some fancy overprized steak with your absolute perfection of a burger? God don't get started on those crispy fries. I've been craving them for weeks!" Y/N could feel her mouth-watering from her own imagination.

"Oh, stop it! You're exaggerating!" Maria chuckles, lightly taping the side of Y/N's shoulder.

"I certainly am not!" Y/N exclaimed, almost animatedly.

The conversation in front of Bucky seemed to be silenced by his own racing thoughts.

Bucky was certain that these past few months being married to Y/N, he already knew her. All her patterns were memorized in the back of his head.

But this was different. It doesn't look like her; at least not the look that she always displayed around their mansion, nor any events they went to.

However, it feels so much like her at the same time.

If she still has other sides and expressions hidden from him, then wanted to see them all.

His hearing started to regain its ability when Y/N spoke, "This is my date, Sebastian. Babe, this is Maria, the owner of this diner." She introduces them.

Bucky leaned forward as he offered his hand, only to be pulled into the similar hug that his wife just received. Maybe he let his guard down, or maybe Maria was just stronger than him to be able to pull him in like that.

"I heard so much about you and this place. Thought nice to bring Irene to her favourite place for a date." Bucky was partially lying. He did promise her that she could choose anywhere she wanted to go to, but at the same time he had no idea this place existed before.

Maria had an approving smile on her face, as if he ticked off several of her checklist for choosing Y/N's boyfriend. She shot a look at Y/N, showing her approval which only made Y/N rolled her eyes.

When they settled in their booth and their orders taken, Bucky started to come up with the first topic, "So, Irene..." he purposely slowed his pace, as if he knew that Y/N would burst into laughter. A triumph smirk curved across his lips, knowing he managed to pull one of her rare laughs.

"...I just wanted to say that I, Sebastian, am honoured to be able to take you on a date this lovely evening." He managed to sound effortlessly posh while saying it, which makes Y/N laugh even more so.

"Oh god, stop, Bucky. It's just us. You don't need to act anymore." Her eyes briefly pointed to their surroundings. Indeed, there was just them and a group of teenagers all the way across the diner.

Bucky chuckled, "Well the way you act just now makes me think you me to stay in character."

"I didn't know that my wife had different identities. Wanna tell me about it?"

Y/N hesitated at first, she wonders if Bucky can accept what she had to say about this, but the anticipation and curiosity in his face seemed to look like he was sincere.

She took a deep breath before letting out a sigh and explained, "People like us can't just go out and about with our family names attached on our faces. We'd be sticking out like a sore thumb."

Bucky thought of what she said for a bit before he asked, "And you hate that? Having my name as part of your identity?" His brow quirked.

She exhaled deeply, "No, I didn't mean it like that, Bucky."

Her hesitation after only urged Bucky to silently demand for further explanation.

She admit defeat as she spoke, "Let's be real our lives are not ordinary. We weren't born in normal society like these people do." Y/N gaze roamed around the few people within the diner. There was this longing in her eyes.

"And I just want to feel what is it like to be one of them. To able to bond other people without greed or malice behind their intentions." There was only truth in her gaze, and Bucky saw that.

"I-- it's like an escape for me. A breath of fresh air if you will." She expressed.

"Like your books? Are they your escape too?" Bucky asked after thinking about how many hours she spent reading.

A fond smile curved on her lips, "Precisely."

He thought deeply before asking, "If you're constantly trying to escape, then what is it that you are trying to run from?" he riddled.

Y/N leaned back to her seat and think of the best way to put her feelings in simple words, "Nothing. I guess that I haven't find something that make me wanna stay in this reality."

"Yet" Bucky didn't mean to say it out loud. It was supposed to be his personal thoughts, but Y/N's eyes unexpectedly lit up, "Yet." She repeated his word, with a hopeful tone behind her natural voice.

The prolonged eye-contact broke when Maria came to serve their food. The conversation after that was nothing too deep, nothing too general. It was the type of conversation that left a light-hearted residue within their chest.

Hours passed and the music resonating from the jukebox seemed to shift into something slow, something more ballad-like. Bucky had an idea. He stood on his feet and walk out of their space while straightening his jacket.

Y/N was confused at first, "Are we leaving already?" was what she thought of before Bucky spoke, "A dance, my dear?"

She trailed the hand that was outreaching towards her, then up to his face. His smile was charming, and the crinkled lines on the side of his eyes were even more endearing.

Who'd knew those small things could become one her little weaknesses. She accepted his offer by grasping on his hand while he gracefully pulled her out of their booth towards the empty space between rows tables and the jukebox.

Bucky pulled her in, even closer than deemed necessary. She followed his lead; fingers laced lightly with each other's. His other hand rests right above her backside. And hers on one of his shoulders.

Though both of them didn't have a clue on how to dance but it didn't stop them to naturally fall into step and let the rhythm control their movements.

Everything else around them; the diner, the people, seemed to dissolve with time. It felt like there was just him and her, alone. Only the sounds of their heart beats and the music that remained.

People in the diner sat on their seats; watching the couple swayed along the melody of the song; couldn't help to admire the sight in front of them.

Even the bunch of teenagers on the other side was suddenly intrigued, some of them gawked and squealed at them, others didn't waste any time and started pull out their phone to record the moment.

Bucky leaned in as he whispered her name. She looked up in respond, with a smile spread across her beautiful face and eyes curved into upside down crescent moons.

A storm of uncontrollable emotions surged throughout Bucky's body, and his nerves tingled in delight. His brought his hand towards her face and brushed his thumb across her cheek.

His body was acting on its own as all the restrains he locked himself before vanished into thin air. Nothing was holding him back from this slice of paradise.

Her eyes glistened the moment Bucky's thumb pressed against her soft lips. "You're so beautiful, Y/N. Do you know that?" He whispered. His eyes searched her features as if he can't believe that his wife was real.

Her lips parted as a laugh escaped through her mouth; it seems to be that she doesn't believe him. Though the truth was clear, and yet somehow she couldn't see it.

"I'm serious, doll. You don't know how gorgeous you look right now." Her cheeks deepen in the colour of rose.

Bucky drew her close to his chest, so close he could feel the warmth of her body; while she wrapped her arms around his neck, tip toe-ing towards the side of his face. He could smell the delicate perfume on her.

Her lips went to his ear as she whispered ever so softly. "And you're such a flirt, do you know that?"

She returned to her original position, looking up with mischief gleaming in her eyes. Whatever spell did she just put on Bucky in that very moment, it certainly work wonders as all he can think about is how her lips feels against his own.

Bucky looked like as if he was in a daze, lips slightly parted, his gaze soften as they fixated on her maroon painted lips.

Y/N seemed to pick up on what's going to happen. Her hands trembled in anticipation; his scent was alluring, almost intoxicating that she might recall this moment whenever she smell this cologne again.

The moment seemed to prolonged but then it feels like the time stops entirely when Bucky pressed his lips on hers. The kiss was delicate, and soft, and passionate and real all at the same time.

Bucky pulled away momentarily only to pull her close again by the back her neck, tilting the heads in opposite direction as he licked her lips for permission in which she gladly comply.

Her hands gripping on the fabric of his shirt that's rested on his chest, holding on to him for her dear life as he stole her breath away.

Soft moans were slipping through the kiss as she felt the delicious burn of his stumble on her skin. Little did she know that, that might just be one of a trigger for Bucky to lose control.

He grunted in disapproval when she pulled away, wanting nothing more than to kiss her again and again and again until both of them forgot how to even breath.

But looking down at her trembling lips, the glaze across her eyes, her shaky breath; Bucky might just turn feral right there and then.

"Bucky..."

Bucky swore that she was whining his name.

"...Take me home."

Which then leads to this very moment where Bucky grabbed her by the waist, pushing her cunt further on his tongue before wrapping his arms around her thighs.

He wants to make sure she's strapped in for another wave that's about to crush her.

He flicked his tongue in an up and down motion, gliding through sensitive bundle of nerves. As if he knew what she like. No, he knows exactly what makes her squirm.

It took him a few orgasms on his tongue to know that she loves those small circles over her clit, those flat licks when he spread her pussy apart, how she much prefer to have her clit played rather than her hole fucked by his fingers, all of the little notes were already buried in Bucky's head.

And oh how divine does she look when she came for him. Bucky couldn't take his eyes off her; he was already addicted her taste, the shudders of her thighs on the sides of his face, and her pretty voice moaning his name.

Why hasn't he done this earlier?

"It's been too long, doll. Should've claimed this gorgeous pussy long ago. Shit." He growled his desire before diving back to her leaking heat.

Wet vulgar sounds echoes within the enclosed space of their bedroom as he devoured her whole. His changing speed really was too much for her to handle, and him gripping onto her thighs was the right choice.

Especially, when she started to squirm upwards, "Oh god Bucky,," moaning as she threw her head back to the soft pillow under her head.

Smirking proud against her parted lips, he pulled her back where she was before, pinning her hips against the bed. He sucks her aching bud into his hot, wet mouth so ferociously she can only gasp to the immense pleasure.

Oh, does it feel good having his mouth wrapping around her pussy like this, while the tip of his dangerous tongue flicking mercilessly on her swollen bundle of nerves.

So good to the point she was seeing stars. Literal stars at the back of her head as her high was reaching for euphoria. The aching pleasure caused her toes to curl and thighs burning, shaking as she cried out his name.

But, he wasn't satisfied yet, insatiably greedy for more, "So sweet, baby. Come on give it to me." He growled against her.

He continued to abuse that cunt over and over as the shameless wailing and chanting of how bad she wanted to come, filling up not just the room but also his pride.

Bucky wants to make her feel each stroke and glide of his wicked, delicious tongue. Feeling the electrifying pleasure surging within her core, her thighs involuntarily started closing around his head.

He can barely breathe from how much she was suffocating him, but he certainly refused to stop.

Not until he ruined that needy cunt of hers.

Over and over, he sucks and pulls while his tongue danced through her until her sanity was close to breaking, body trembling in his hold.

The wet squelches, the lapping of his tongue, her sexy moans. He drowned himself to every single one of them.

"Fuck! Bucky, I'm coming. Please, please please don't stop!" She begged for his mercy even if he never asked for it.

Her moan was getting needier than ever, while her hips jerked upwards to meet his tongue. Her fingers gripping on his soft hair, guiding his through the sweet torturous pace.

Fortunately, she wasn't the only one who was close to an explosive high. Bucky's cock, hard and pulsing, twitched against the constraint of his boxer. Even without any simulation from any kind of touch, his cock was more than overjoyed to come along with her.

And it was all because of her.

From the way she was shamelessly humping against his mouth, using him to get herself off. Gripping and pulling his hair, so she could ride his tongue faster.

Bucky hummed against her clit, before chuckling, "You're already such a good girl, doll. So perfect. You taste..." his tongue licked through her folds, grazing on the throbbing clit. "...Perfect."

A whisper of his name escaped as she gasped into a back arching shudder, head thrown back, eyes rolling, unable to focus on anything other than the pleasure of his tongue.

"Do it." he growled out. "Come for me, baby. Make a mess on my tongue."

That command was all it supposed to take, for her to finally let go but feeling his tongue flicking against her clit was what ripped the orgasm right from her begging pussy.

A loud scream of curses of his name was the only thing she can utter once the orgasm washed over. She let the pleasure unravel from within to every part of her shivering body, until she was left limping on the bed.

"Gorgeous..." he grunted with a horny tone, tongue sliding in between her wet slit, making sure every lick managed to collect the sweet nectar she had bestowed him.

Finally pulling away from between her legs, the lower half of Bucky's face was drenched; his lips glistened with the mixture of spit and slick, dripping down along the chin, down to his neck.

His eyes closed in an euphoric high, tongue licking her cum off his lips before forming a devilish smirk on his face. He looked as happy as a man can be with that smug smile of his.

Bucky smirked at her broken moan, "...so pretty coming for me." he praised ever so endearingly.

He climbed over as he continued to praise what a good girl she was, how well she did, how addictive she tastes, and how he would gladly eat her out for the rest of his life.

Bucky's mouth watered and his cock twitched at the beautiful, yet filthy sight of his wife splayed on their bed; her breasts moved every so gracefully despite her heavy breaths, legs spread apart as he kneeled in between.

Looking down at her mess, he might just want to be greedy and devour her once again, but his cock was much more needy than his anticipated. Right now, he wants nothing more than to feel her tightness around him.

Bucky levelled his face over hers, "Open up, honey." he husked. Still in a slight daze, Y/N blindly followed his temptation, only to feel his lips on her, his tongue settled within her heated cavern.

Every wave and movement of his tongue on hers were purposely slow and gentle. She can feel herself melted into the kiss, even more hypnotized into a dreamy haze.

Bucky pulled away with a rumbling hum, "Taste good doesn't it?" He prompted as he stroked the strand of her hair behind her ear. Y/N can only nod with an approving moan as she relished the gentle caresses on her cheek.

"That's all you, babydoll. Addictive isn't it? So, when I ask for this pussy, you will give it to me. Every single time. Do you understand?" Bucky tighten his gripped on her chin, forcing her to look into his eyes.

Her eyes gleamed in ecstasy, "Yes, Bucky." she let out a breathy tone, not trusting that she can keep her moans in if she speaks any louder.

Bucky smiled fondly, "That's my girl." he proclaimed.

"Now, how about making a mess on my cock, hmm? That sounds good to you, angel?" Honestly, it was Bucky who wanted to make a mess in her pussy, but she didn't need to know that for now.

"Yes, please." Y/N answered that way too quick, but she didn't care. The other reason why she was constantly leaking apart from Bucky's skilful tongue, was because she wanted to feel his cock stretching her apart.

Bucky chuckled to her neediness while his hand worked its way to remove his boxers. His cock sprung up to his stomach, with precum spilling from the tip. God he was so wet for her.

"...Hmmm, my sweet little wife had been so so good for me, isn't that right?" He cooed as he pulled her hips to him and lined his cock with her slick entrance that was just aching to be filled.

"Yes, Bucky" She breathed his name, as she looked up to him with full blown lusty eyes. The anticipation for him to plunge inside her needy hole were immaculate. But Bucky loved to edge a little.

"So good to me." Bucky stroked his heavy cock in between her slippery folds; the tip gliding so easily against her clit before proceeding to insert his throbbing length into her, groaning out a pleasurable 'ahhh' when he felt his cock wrapped around her tight, twitching walls, "F-fuck" He nearly whimpered, closing his eyes as he refused to come right when he just entered her tightness.

She gasped in pure ecstasy, feeling his cock in her core.

Bucky stilled as he fully filled her to the brim, letting her adjust to size as he peppered gentle kisses on her face, down to her neck and breasts.

The trembling in her cunt didn't drop its pulse, instead he swore it just increases, "Ease up, baby.. " his mouth wrapped around her nipple, "..or I might come before the fun begins." He mumbled against her breast before giving a harsh suck on her nipple.

That might just multiply the pressure around his cock though.

Even if Y/N knew she might come just by him adjusting the pace, but she didn't care, she craves the friction inside of her, "Buck-- Move please."

She didn't need to tell him twice, Bucky complied quite instantly.

"Oh, fuck!" She whimpered as his cock glide in and out of her at a sluggish pace.

"Fuck you feel damn good, baby," he rasps under his breath, his eyes drinking in every little expression she make. The little nose scrunch, her brows furrow together when he hit the spot deep within her, the way her swollen lips parted only to let out those sinful moans of his name.

"Never stop giving this pussy to me. God, I need this pussy y'hear me? I need it so bad." Bucky was well aware how addicted he was already. And he had no shame on that.

It didn't take him too long to increase the speed which led to him railing her into the bed as her muffled screams filled the room. Y/N sobbed softly to the overstimulating pleasure that started filling her body with Bucky's harsh thrusts. "So good, so fucking good!"

"Mhmm! Too much, I can't" She whimpered. She could feel how Bucky was tearing her apart, spreading her cunt as his cock lunged inside her tight walls, deliciously.

Bucky looks down to where his cock was fucking into her cunt and he shamelessly moaned, loud, deep from within his chest.

He wished she could see the vision in front of him; how her pussy displayed and wide open for his cock as he plunged in and out of her hard.

Gritting his teeth, he fucked her harder, more desperate than before, his fingers digging into her hip.

Y/N was whimpering mad, eyes rolled back mouth wide open, drooling to every thrust Bucky pushed into her. By that point she just had lost every sanity she had in her mind and just wanted Bucky to really fuck the life out of her.

It felt so good.

Too good.

Bucky’s brows knitted into a frown, and his mouth falls open. The deep grunts he was groaning turn into frantic higher pitched moans. His eyes shut, and his head falls back in pleasure.

Y/N wrapped her arms around his neck for support as her body racked in pleasure from his deep, hard, merciless thrusts. Her body jerked back and forth with his movement.

Their skin on each other; chest touching, the intertwining sound of sinful moans and lewd, wet squelching sound, the whispers of praises uttered for one another, lingered their mind as it gave physical effect to their body.

"A little more baby, please, please— fuckin' take my cock." When was the last time he felt this good? Perhaps never because he couldn't believe how close he was to coming already.

"It feels so good, Bucky."

"Yeah? hmmm, you're handling it so well, honey."

"Yes, yes, yes, -ahh shit, so deep inside me, fuck."

"...Can't believe this pretty little thing is mine."

Those were one of the many, many whispers they had said to each other. They were dirty yet it so sincerely intimate.

Not able to control himself any longer Bucky began thrusting faster than the original pace he had set before, causing her body to thrash around.

She gripped on the bedsheets behind her as he was grunting mad over the way his cock slipped so easily in and out of her tight pussy. The way she bucked her hips to match Bucky's pace, to have more friction between the two.

Oh, it was nastily enticing.

Everything about this moment was passionate and overpowering; to the point where their minds were getting fuzzy.

It's amazing how his body conquered hers like no one had before. Somehow, he knew where all her sweet spots were and how her body would react to them, but he would still be eager to found new ones to tease her right after.

Y/N's body jerked up in pleasure as his cock repeatedly hit her spot. It felt so good, her body to started shake and spasm. Tears were threatening to spill from her eyes as the pleasure racked her body with such force she had never felt or known before.

And Bucky was the only one to ever see her like this and he would like to keep it that way.

"Mhmm, can't wait to come in this pretty pussy of yours babydoll. Fuck-- I'm already leaking inside you, baby. You're going to be so full and messy. Don't you want that, angel?" he teased as he thrusted in and out of her, groaning.

His thumb manage to find its way to play with her sensitive clit, not wanting to neglect that poor needy thing.

Feeling electrified from both his drilling cock and the way he was skilfully rubbing her clit, she squirmed and whined out unintelligible words, somewhere in between moaning his name and something about dying.

Bucky chuckled an amused laugh, somehow he managed to understand her words perfectly.

He removed his other unoccupied hand from her hip, and went to grab her both of her hands, placing them above her head. Restraining her wrists as he continued to fuck her hole; deeply, deliciously.

His body hovered over hers and their pupils dilated as their hot breath danced upon each other's skin. His erotic slid in and out of her cunt with such ease and his strong hands held a hard grip onto her contained wrists as he felt his orgasm arriving.

She felt the same familiar knot in her stomach just aching to be released." oh -oh god, Bucky. I'm gonna come!" she cried out.

"That's right, fucking cum for me!" he groaned out as he pressed his finger a little rough on her throbbing clit.

She shivered and gasped as she could feel her excitement gush out of her pussy as Bucky continued to fuck her through her high. Obscene wet noises coming from between her thighs.

And oh how Bucky relished the feeling of her walls clenching and twitching uncontrollably around his cock, licking his lip as he watched her wet juices spurting out of her pussy, drenching him more than be it was before.

"Feels fucking amazing to be inside you when you come like this, doll. So wet and tight for me..." he praised, getting replies of 'thank you's from her; she sounded delirious but that only ignites the feral in Bucky.

"...F-fuck I'm coming." His cock twitches violently. "Coming inside you, my pretty little wife. Fuckk--" His body jolted, eyes opening for just a second before they rolled shut as his hips snapped forward.

He came with a loud cry of her name, hips stilling as ropes of hot and slick cum shot out of his cock. His hot seed spread over her walls, filling her nice and full, sending shudders down her back.

Y/N can feel how he throbbed inside as each pulse of the delicious sensation came along with the ropes of cum that shoots from his cock.

He sighed as he thrusted his cock with a few more slow and lazy thrusts, letting her twitching walls milks the rest of his cum.

Bucky, soon slowly pulled out of her; she hissed as felt his cum dripping out, down to her asshole. It's a shame that he pulled out quite early than she expected; Y/N wished he could stay inside a little while longer.

He leaned down to spread multiple of soft kisses all over her face. Praising every little thing about her. Bucky thought of giving her the softest after-care she well-deserved after such a long night.

But when she looked up at him with those pair of lust-blown eyes, he never thought those words would've come out from her mouth, "Want more, please Bucky?" her tiny hand managed to grasp on his semi-hard cock, before rubbing his tip on her cum-filled hole.

Bucky never been that hard within that short amount of time. He grunted in pleasure when she pushed herself on his cock.

He let out a breathy chuckle as he cock reached the deepest part of her, "What a plot twist you are, doll."

End.

<< Part II || Extra >>

Read my other works here: Masterlist

A/N: Even if this is the last chapter, I’d still love to hear from you! 🤍

#winterarmyyfics #plottwistfic #mafia!bucky #mob!bucky #bucky barnes au #mafia!bucky x reader #mob!bucky x reader #arranged marriage #husband!bucky #beefy!bucky #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you

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wakandas-vibranium · 1 year

Text

Wednesday Nights || Part One

Pairing: Pre-outbreak!Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+, minors DNI, smutty smut, phone sex, dirty talk, teasing, swearing, sex work

Word count: 3.5k

Summary: As a single parent of an active kid Joel’s funds were tight, so he needed to find a quick way to make more income and surprisingly, you could make good money being a phone sex operator.

A/N: I kept daydreaming about Joel being a PSO. When I went to search for related fics I couldn’t find any so I wrote one :) Please like, comment and reblog!

part two

part three

part four

part five

Your nerves deteriorated with each passing minute. It was almost ten o'clock. On most days, the time didn't matter, but today was Wednesday. Wednesday nights were highly essential for you.

For the past five months, you've been making late-night phone calls to talk to a specific phone sex operator named Jay. You had a sneaking suspicion that "Jay" wasn't actually his name, but you didn’t let that bother you. You understood that the operators were obligated to follow certain procedures for their own safety.

Except for the few small truths he told you, Jay's personal life was a vast mystery to you. All you gathered about him from your extensive conversations was that he was a man in his early thirties from the southern parts of the United States who enjoyed a good cup of coffee before starting his day. He never specified where in the south he grew up, but the Texan drawl sounded too genuine to be artificial.

On Wednesdays, Jay only worked until 11 o'clock, so the two of you came to the conclusion fairly early on that you should dial in a little after 10 in order to ensure that you were his final call of the day.

You managed to calm your nerves by doing a little dance. You twirled in circles until you found yourself standing in front of your full-length mirror that was intentionally placed in front of your bed. You stopped dancing and stood there, appreciating your half-naked figure in the mirror as you waited for the clock to strike 10:03.

You weren't sure why you always ended up so nervous around this time of the week. You'd been doing this for a while now, but it was just something about Jay that turned you into the shyest little thing.

You looked downright delicious in your baby blue lingerie. You brought it this afternoon along with a new toy. It wasn't like Jay could see it, but your imagination ran wild. Your breasts sat flawlessly in the laced blue bra. You looked like a fucking snack.

If only you could meet Jay in person, you thought, sighing in disappointment. You eyed the clock and shook the negative thoughts from your head before you ended up in a funk. It was time to dial in.

You were already drained from the week's stressors, and there were still two more days to go. You were in your last year of graduate school and utterly stumped on your thesis. You were sick of doing research, reading, typing, crying, and everything else that came with being a grad student. At this point, all you wanted to do was talk to Jay for as long as you possibly could and get off.

You called in, waiting for the main operator to ask you who you wanted to be transferred to. She answered in her usual upbeat voice. You answered her question and before you knew it the line was being transferred to Jay. You held your breath on every ring, as you always did, until Jay picked up. Unexpectedly, a memory of your very first call came flooding back.

9:58pm five months ago

Valentine’s Day

Ring. Ring. Click.

“Decompress until there’s a mess,” a cheerful woman said as she answered your call and you fought back a cackle at that ridiculous ass slogan. “Who would you like to speak to tonight?”

“Umm…this is my first time calling, so I’m not really sure.” you admitted.

“That’s alright, sugar,” the woman assured softly. “Let’s start with the simple stuff. Do you have a preference for gender or ethnicity?”

“Umm, well, ethnicity doesn’t matter, but I’d like to speak with a man.”

“Okay. We’re getting somewhere. What kind of man?”

“Someone with an accent.”

“What kind of accent? We have ‘em all here, sugar.”

The constant use of the pet name actually eased your nerves. Your shyness was depleting while your confidence was rising.

“A southern accent?”

You had a slight accent kink since you could remember. You appreciated all accents, but there was something extra sweet about southern men and the way they could hold a conversation. Maybe it was because you grew up in the south too.

“Louisiana?” The operator asked as she typed away at her computer. By the sound of her taps, her nails must have been quite long. You bet they looked as pretty as she sounded.

“More of a Texan accent please.” You insisted, nibbling your bottom lip as you waited for her to find someone.

“That’ll be Jay then.”

“It looks like he’s finishing up another call,” she informed. “Do you mind waiting on hold for a few minutes before I transfer you?”

“No, I don’t mind. Thank you.”

“Okay. Placing you on hold now.”

You were on hold for maybe forty five seconds. The wait music stopped abruptly and the line rang four times before a sultry voice spoke. “Hello, darlin’.”

And fuuuuuuuck.

The sultry twang of his voice sounded like toe curling, earth shattering, raw sex.

You went to say hello, but for some reason you forgot how your mouth worked. You palmed your forehead, wincing.

How embarrassing.

“Hello?” he said, tone shifting slightly.

“Hi.” you finally whispered, palms somewhat shaking. You never did anything like this. Thank god he couldn’t see how much of a nervous wreck you were. You weren’t a virgin, but you didn’t have that many sexual experiences. There was plenty left for you to learn.

“Sorry,” you continued, swallowing the lump in your throat. “This is my first time doing something like this and I’m a little nervous.” you admitted, shifting in the computer chair, spreading your legs.

“I understand. We can take it slow, okay?”

“Okay.” you nodded as if he could fucking see you.

“My name is Jay. What’s your name?”

“Y/N.” you blurted, without thinking. Were you supposed to give him a fake name?

He chuckled softly, “That your real name, darlin’?”

“Yeah,” you sighed deeply. “It is actually.”

“Well, Y/N is such a pretty name.” He complimented.

“Thank you.” you smiled, shoulders relaxing as you began to twirl in your chair.

“How old are you?” Jay asked.

“I’ll be 28 next month,” you revealed, slipping into a more seductive voice now that your nerves were further away, “How old are you?”

“I’ll be 31 later in September.”

“Ah, so you’re a Libra man?” you teased. You weren’t super into astrology, but you knew the basics and looked at compatibility charts every now and then.

“Am I now?” he laughed.

“You are and I’m an Aries. Apparently we’re very compatible.”

“Is that right?”

“Yeah.”

“You believe that?” He retorted.

“Sort of.” you mumbled, half shrugging.

“I think we’ll find out in a lil’ bit.” Jay purred. You pulled the phone away from your ear as you shivered in anticipation. You were already wet for him.

Goddamn. He already had you hooked

“Evenin’ darlin’,” Jay answered warmly on the third ring.

“Hi,” you responded, beaming up at yourself in the mirror. Jeez all it took was a simple greeting from Jay to have you smiling from ear to ear. “How has your day been?”

“It’s been alright. Even better now though.” He said, already flirting.

“I’m wearin’ the blue lace lingerie we looked at last week.” You blurted, getting straight to the point. You usually talked about regular things, but you were pent up and needed him to do what he was perfect at and make you a soaking wet mess.

“Ohh,” he exhaled sharply, “I wish I could watch you model it for me, Y/N.” He was always so good and going with the flow. He always made sure to give you what you needed. After all, that was what you were paying him for. It was left unspoken that you both forgot that this was a transaction a few months ago.

“I bought a toy, too.”

“What kind?” He perked up, even more interested.

“You got your laptop open?”

“Mmhmm.” he replied.

“Go to www.lovegasm.com.”

You listened to the pad of his fingers fall against the laptop keys as he followed your instructions. You ignored the fact that you were lowkey jealous of the keyboard that got to feel how his fingers felt against them.

“Okay. I’m there.”

“Click on the drop-down in the left hand corner.”

“Okay.”

“Then click on ‘for women’ then select ‘dildos’.” you instructed, you slid off your shawl, moving over to the edge of the bed to give him and the page a few extra seconds to load before asking, “You there?”

“Yep. Which one am I looking for?”

“Right column. Sixth one down.”

“I see,” he said, humming in excitement.

“Look familiar?” You asked, giggling softly as you laid back on your bed, spreading your thighs.

“A bit.” he admitted, unable to hide the smile in his voice. You could hear it clear as day. It was another small thing you looked forward to.

“I can’t wait to feel yo—it inside me, Jay.” you caught yourself, but it was too late. He’d already heard you and his cock twitched in response.

“No, you were right the first time, baby.” he said, kind of muffled, grunting softly as he raised his arms, removing his shirt and unbuckling his belt.

“I’m a bit thicker towards the top so we’re gonna have to finger you open, so that I can slide in perfectly.”

“Okay. Do you want me to take off my panties?”

“No,” he said, inhaling sharply. “Pull them to the side and rub your clit for me.”

You obeyed, pulling your panties to the side and slowly rubbed your clit with your middle finger, sighing softly.

“How wet are you?”

“Honestly,” you breathed deeply, running a finger down your slick slit. “I’ve been wet for you all day, Jay.” He groaned deeply at your admission, thick cock swelling in his pants.

“You’re gonna cum twice for me tonight, Y/N. First on my fingers, then on my cock.”

Your mouth fell open in a silent gasp. He knew you loved when he talked to you that way. It helped you get off even more.

“Got it?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Repeat it.” he demanded, growling softly in your ear. You stopped breathing for a second. Completely turned on by the rough tone he was taking with you.

God he knew what you liked so well.

“I’m cummin’ twice tonight. On your fingers, then on your cock.” You repeated, voice deep with arousal. You whimpered softly, rubbing faster as you felt that coil deep in your belly loosen a smidge. You were getting closer to the edge.

“Good girl.” he praised, making you sigh deeply and even more of a puddle.

“Slide a finger inside you,” he instructed, “Slow pumps.”

You obeyed, pushing in your middle finger, massaging your folds gradually. Although the motion was effective, it wasn’t sufficient. It didn't push you very far at all. You needed more.

“Can I add another finger, baby?” You asked, moaning louder as you rubbed your clit in wide slow circles, getting wetter by the second.

“Go ahead,” said Jay, granting you permission.

You added another finger, pumping faster. Now you were getting somewhere.

“Jay,” you moaned softly, grinding down on your fingers as you sped up just a little.

“I love the way you moan for me.” he praised, grunting softly as he popped the button open on his jeans and unzipped them. The faint sound of his zipper being pulled down made your nipples harden almost painfully.

“Shit Jay, I wish these were your fingers.” you admitted, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip, shyness long gone. You closed your eyes, picturing Jay’s fingers inside of you, while his free hand held pressure on your lower stomach. You listened to him pull his jeans down some.

“I know baby,” he groaned, palming his hard cock through his boxers, “So do I.”

“Keep rubbin’ your clit for me,” like the good and dutiful girl you were, you obeyed, rubbing your bundle of nerves in tight, fast circles. Your other fingers were busy pumping in and out of your tight hole.

It was weird at this angle, but you added a third finger and curled them up. Your thighs trembled as you fingered and rubbed yourself harder. Jay could hear how soaked you were for him and pulled his cock out, thumbing the bead of precum before stroking it lazily. You were always so wet for him and he oh so badly craved to taste it.

He inhaled sharply before letting a single command fall past his lips, “Cum.”

“Fuuuuck!” you moaned loudly as you came, body jerking against the bed as you worked yourself slower.

“That’s it, baby,” Jay purred lowly, talking you through a well anticipated orgasm. “Let it out for me.” You were gonna have to change your sheets, but you couldn’t care less at the moment. You were sex crazed.

One down. One more to go.

Jay’s hand locked down painfully on his cock, stopping himself from almost cumming. “Now grab my cock and put it in your mouth.” Jay said, taking a steadying, deep breath. The sounds you made when you came always got to him. The sinful whimpers and desperate grunts you let out damn near made him go feral with lust.

You palmed the silicone cock and brought it to your lips, licking up the veiny shaft before taking it into your mouth.

“Suck it, baby. Let me hear it.” He cupped his dick loosely, starting back up with slow strokes. He had to be careful.

You sucked the head while simultaneously pulling on the base, making the tip tug at your plump lips.

“Mmhmm,” he moaned, encouraging you to take him deeper. You tilted your head to get a better angle and took the fake cock as deep as you could, bobbing your head up and down, moaning loudly. When you choked, Jay growled. “Fuuuck, baby! You take me so well.”

“You’re so wet for me, baby,” Jay said, panting sharply, “I can hear it. Go ahead and push me in. I know that I’ll fit easily.”

“Goddamnit Jay,” you cursed, letting the dildo fall from your stretched lips with a loud pop, slapping your inner thigh hard enough to leave it aching in the morning.

“What?” He asked, snickering softly because he already knew the answer.

“You just always know what to say.” you praised, gasping softly as you pushed the cock inside you, all the way to the hilt. He was right. It stretched you, but you were so wet it didn’t even pinch.

You pushed the silicone cock inside you deep and fast. It felt so fucking good. You paused your moans so you could hear Jay. You wanted to match his strokes. Once he realized what you were doing he sped up.

“Yeah, that’s it, babygirl,” he praised, groans growing louder, “Fuck yourself just like that. Don’t stop.”

“Shit, I’m gonna cum,” you warned, pumping yourself even harder.

“Did I tell you that you could cum?” The harshness of his voice made you open your eyes and slow your movements just a tad.

“Jay p—please, baby,” you moaned louder, begging him to let you cum. He loved teasing you and you loved that he loved it.

“Please what, darlin’?” said Jay, amusement heavy in his tone. He knew exactly what you wanted. Needed. He was gonna give it to you, but you had to ask first. You had to beg for it.

“Cum with me this time,” you coaxed, whole body shuddering just from hearing the downright filthy noise Jay just made.

“Okay, babygirl,” he groaned lowly, breaths quickening as he pumped his cock nice and fast. “Whatever you want.”

“I want you to cum with me,” you begged, head thrashing wildly against the pillows as the tip of the dildo brushed up against that sweet spot deep inside of you. “I want to hear your moans mix with mine when we cum.”

You sobbed as you started back rubbing your clit. The tight circling of your finger combined with the rapid thrusts from the dildo gave you a window of 30 seconds before you were cumming your brains out.

“That’s it, baby,” Jay snarled, hips jerking wildly up into his fist as he stroked his cock even faster. “Be a good girl and cum with me.”

You came with a loud cry as your climax tore through you, back arching all the way off the mattress in sheer pleasure. Jay followed right behind you, cursing and whimpering as white ropes of cum landed on his belly and chest. You both panted harshly, together over the line as you recovered slowly from your intense orgasms.

“I think that was our best one yet.” he laughed warmly as he pulled a few tissues from the square box on his workstation to clean himself up.

“Hell yeah it was,” you agreed, cheering weakly. Your arms were sore as hell and your legs still shook, but you felt amazing. You were on cloud nine, fully satiated.

“Have a good night, darlin’,” Jay cooed, sleepily. “And good luck with your thesis.”

“Thanks. Night Jay.” You giggled softly, disconnecting the call, rolling over onto your side before drifting off to sleep.

The next few days were a breeze. You were in an advantageous mood thanks to Jay, and so you added four more pages to your thesis. You only had six pages left.

On Saturday morning you woke up earlier than usual and decided to get dressed and head to your favorite coffee shop. The cafe was only a couple blocks away from your apartment so you walked there. You loved early morning strolls. The gentle wind dancing across your soft skin as the sun began to peak always made you feel alive.

You left the cafe after the barista handed you your Assam Black tea and breakfast sandwich, while typing a text to one of your lab partners. You took a few steps without looking and collided with someone, dropping both your sandwich and your phone. Luckily, the grip you had on your tea did not falter.

You both apologized at the same time.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, sir. I wasn’t even lookin' in front of me.”

“My apologies, darlin’.' ' the man said, bending down to pick up your squished sandwich and unscratched cell phone.

That voice.

That voice you knew all too well.

Especially on Wednesday nights.

A cold chill ran across your neck and down your back, “Jay?” you squeaked loudly, staring at him in disbelief as he stood back up with your items in his hands. He stretched out his hands to give them back to you only to stop short, eyes widening in utter shock when he realized what you had called him.

The corner of his mouth turned up as he grinned briefly. It didn’t quite match his eyes at all. “Y/N, I take it?”

“Yes,” you nodded, giving him a small smile. “Hi, Jay.”

“Hi.” he said, eyes blinking slowly as he stood there flabbergasted, still holding your belongings in his hands.

“Nice to meet you.” you continued, extending your hand out for him to shake.

He shifted your sandwich and phone to his left hand, grabbed your hand with his now-free hand, and shook it twice. “Nice to meet you, too Y/N.” he said, shooting you a toothy grin. God, his smile was to die for. He sank his teeth into his bottom lip as he checked you out, admiring the view. During your phone calls, he, too, fantasized about what you looked like. He was not disappointed.

His palm enveloped yours. Damn his hands were large, you thought, gawking at him unapologetically. They were warm and had a few callouses. He must have used his hands a great deal for his other job. He never mentioned what he did for work.

You hoped that bumping into him wouldn't ruin your Wednesday night dalliances. Maybe he'd be okay with talking somewhere less public. It was quite rowdy both inside and outside of the coffee shop.

“My apartment is two blocks away if you want to go somewhere more private so we can talk.” you babbled, no longer able to look at him in his intense, pecan brown eyes for too long due to your shyness coming at it at an all time high. Fuck he was intimidating. The confidence he exuded had your mouth watering.

Christ, he was sex on a stick. The man only had on a dark gray shirt, blue jeans that hugged him in all the right places and working boots. A warm flush crept across your face and neck. Get it together, girl, you thought to yourself. He barely said two full sentences to you and you were already hot and bothered. To be fair, he’d been the only one to make you cum every week for the past five and a half months.

He raised a thick eyebrow at your suggestion — you dropped his hand, gesturing wildly once you realized how your offer must have sounded. “I mean—fuck! I promise I’m not a weirdo, Jay.”

His eyes crinkled as he chuckled, shaking his head fondly at you, “Joel,” he said. “My name is Joel.”

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