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ahundredtimesover · 4 months

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I Want You to Stay (03) | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: boss!JK x assistant!reader; idiot strangers to lovers; slow slow burn; k-drama feels; angst, drama, fluff, smut

Chapter (Series) Warnings: foul/explicit language; alcohol consumption & passing out, unhealthy coping mechanisms; family drama; minor injuries; power dynamics (JK starts off as a jerk); work-related anxiety, feelings of helplessness, insecurities; childhood traumatic experiences, nightmares; sexual harassment, prior incidence of domestic violence (PLS PLS BE CAREFUL WHEN READING); arts and business/property devt talk that’s probably inaccurate; commitment issues & emotionally constipated characters; cold and detached JK; explicit sexual content (specific warnings stated per chapter) (18+)

Chapter Word count: 14.8k

Series Masterlist

Status: Ongoing

Series summary: Working for Jungkook isn’t the same as working for Hoseok. For starters, Jungkook doesn’t smile, he doesn’t appreciate you, and he gives you too much work. It doesn’t help that he’s incredibly handsome and has women at his beck and call. But as the tension grows, it becomes impossible to resist him. You’ve dedicated yourself to your job for 8 years so when you finally decide to put yourself first, he asks you to reconsider. And while you know that leaving is difficult, you learn that when it comes to Jungkook, staying is always so much harder.

Playlist 🎶: on the way home

A/N: I've been thoroughly enjoying your asks and replies about this story (sorry I can’t get to each one!) I see that a lot can relate to what OC's going through and I'm sending you hugs! 🤗 Again, I appreciate your love and excitement. And uh... Golden JK in that white tank. YUP. 🤭 Hoping you enjoy this one!

And as always, my biggest thanks to @wonwoonlight 🥰

PS. If I can’t tag you, pls fix your settings!

The spring in your step tightens the closer you get to Jungkook’s penthouse the next Monday. Walking here to start another week, there’s a mix of emotions you’re carrying with you.

You got to spend a proper weekend. On Friday, you made yourself some cold noodles and then watched a movie with Jimin and Soomin on video call, who’d said they’ll be visiting you in a week. You took the train to Daegu on Saturday, went to the park, then stayed in to enjoy Min-woo’s cooking and the girls’ stories about school and their youth clubs. You then buried yourself in your mother’s embrace as you told her about your week. You didn’t want to say too much, not wanting her to worry that her daughter isn’t being treated well at her job, but you suppose you said enough.

“I wish I was strong enough to protect you from everything,” she’d told you softly. “All I can do is just give you hugs and say words of encouragement that might not even mean much.”

“And you still are, mom. I look forward to being with you because of those hugs. But more than that, you were strong enough to protect me from the bad guys,” you’d assured her. “Jungkook is many things but he’s not a terrible person. I can handle him.”

And you meant it. He may be hot-tempered sometimes but he’s not evil. But just because he made you go home early last Friday, it also doesn’t mean he’s suddenly redeemed in your mind. Sure, he didn’t email you at all over the weekend unlike last time, but he also still didn’t apologize to you nor show remorse.

Perhaps that small nod after he called you telling you that you could go home was his way of saying sorry, or maybe it just isn’t in his vocabulary. You wonder if Hoseok had told him off but even then, it’s a pretty quick change, if you could call it that.

Regardless, you felt like a human being again these past few days; you just wish Jungkook woke up on the right side of the bed this morning and doesn’t find a reason to complain about you.

Unlocking the door, you’re surprised to hear silence - there are no grunts and deep breaths nor the sound of leather hitting leather from his morning workout. You scan the floor before walking around - a habit you’ve developed after finding that laced underwear last week - and then peep into the door on the right, only to find untouched equipment and no other traces of him.

You’re in the living room when you hear another door close, prompting you to turn around and see a woman appearing from the hallway on the other side of the penthouse. Her hair’s a bit disheveled and she’s wearing one of Jungkook’s coats that you saw in his closet.

“Uh, who are you?” The woman scoffs, her arms crossed and eyebrows raised now.

Taken aback, you just stare at her, until you realize she’s not wearing anything underneath so you look away.

You try to make sense of who she is and how you could get out of this situation. You know for a fact that Jungkook doesn’t have a girlfriend, at least that’s what Lucas had told you, but who knows what Jungkook’s been up to since he got back? There was that red laced underwear from last week after all. Maybe he does sleep around like what Do-hyun said. Maybe this woman just doesn’t know Jungkook has a female assistant. Maybe he’s—

“Hey, I’m talking to you,” she says, sounding more annoyed now.

“Oh. Uh, I’m Mr. Jeon’s—”

“She’s my assistant,” Jungkook answers, catching you off guard, given that you hadn’t noticed him walk in.

He’s not in his usual workout attire, although him in a white tank top and gray sweatpants with mussed hair somehow seems more overwhelming than him in nothing but gym shorts. You glance at him as he stands next to the woman, whose face suddenly lights up. Not wanting to look at her, you shift your gaze towards the ceiling, trying hard not to look awkward as you’re rooted in place.

The woman looks at you from head to toe and you feel her judging you, assessing you, while Jungkook stands there, yawning and combing his hair with his fingers.

“Just your assistant?” She asks, sounding incredulous.

“Yeah. What else would she be?” Jungkook answers nonchalantly. Looking at you, he nods ever so slightly that you almost miss it, another hint of acknowledgement you’d seen last Friday. “Just eggs on toast. And coffee.”

“Yes, Mr. Jeon,” you say, exhaling the breath you were holding and then walking to the kitchen to start on his breakfast.

“I don’t know, another one of your girls? I see you with a new one every time,” she huffs, sounding bitter, but Jungkook doesn’t sound amused.

“What are you still doing here?” He asks, walking to where you are then taking the glass of water you prepare for him. “I called a service for you last night.”

“I was too tired,” she says, and you don’t miss the sultry tone of her voice now. “You tired me out, Jungkook. I could barely get off the bed.”

“And why are you still here?” He asks, clearly not having it with her teasing.

“Because I’m still tired,” she smirks, having followed him to the kitchen.

You feel tense once more; you definitely don’t want to be part of this conversation in any way nor be privy to it, especially given what obviously happened between them last night. And especially not with Jungkook looking and sounding the way he does this early Monday morning.

“And I was thirsty,” she continues.

He sets his glass down and opens the refrigerator and takes out a bottle of water that he hands over to her.

“Ugh, how romantic,” she rolls her eyes, finishing it in a few gulps.

“I have to go to work,” he tells her, frustrated that she’s being stubborn about not leaving when he no longer seems to want her around.

“Actual work, or, you know, work?” She says, gesturing towards you.

You make the mistake of looking at her smug face, the insinuation not lost on you. It’s insane how she can just make claims like that, and you feel that just like you, Jungkook’s getting pissed.

“Can you just leave?” He says much more sternly now. “I can’t start my day with you still here.”

“Ooh, how rude,” she giggles. “Should’ve expected you’d be like that even outside of bed. I like that.”

She walks back to the room, leaving you and Jungkook on your own. You continue to work on his eggs while he stands by the counter, rubbing his temples. You’re unsure if it’s because of her or from last night’s alcohol, but you get aspirin and also a bottle of energy drink and set them in front of him before returning to preparing his meal.

The woman comes back shortly in last night’s attire then walks towards Jungkook.

“I’m leaving,” she announces, tilting his chin so he would face her. “I’ll see you again, yeah?”

Jungkook turns away and does not respond, leaving her to laugh as if there’s a joke that only she’s in on.

“Going all quiet on me now, huh?” She says. “You weren’t like that last night. I can still hear your moans, actually. Fuck, they sounded so good and so loud.”

You almost hit your finger as you slice the apple, clearly not expecting for this stranger to say something so intimate, knowing there’s another person in the room with them. You don’t know if she wants to intimidate you for whatever reason or maybe just make you feel uncomfortable. Whatever it is, it’s working, as you’re unable to focus on the task at hand now.

Jungkook still doesn’t say anything, and it’s what prompts her to finally say goodbye.

“Fine, I’ll leave now,” she whines. “But that was an amazing first time. I hope it won’t be the last.”

Her giggle annoys you for some reason, even more when you mistakenly look her way. Her smug face unnerves you as she holds your gaze while she says, “I’ll see you again, okay? I’ll make sure you’ll scream my name next time,” the words obviously directed at Jungkook.

She finally exits the penthouse but she doesn’t take the tension with her because in this large apartment with you and him, you feel a little too hot, a little too alert, yet somehow a little too curious.

Jungkook groans now as he finishes his energy drink, and he doesn’t know what he’s more frustrated about - the fact that the woman whose name he doesn’t remember didn’t go home, or that you’d found out about it in the most embarrassing way and he’d done nothing to stop her attempts at making you feel uncomfortable because that’s definitely what she was doing.

He doesn’t know how it affected you but even he can tell that it wouldn’t have been good. Not that he’s ashamed of his lifestyle but it’s different when you, of all people, get to see what that looks like. You did see the laced underwear on his kitchen floor last week, and he knows you definitely tried to pretend you hadn’t. Perhaps the image of arrogant, playboy Jungkook just solidified in your head and the fact that maybe that’s what you think of him is making him feel uneasy.

Not that he cares about what you think - he definitely does not - but he just doesn’t want that to affect how you would treat him in a professional sense, as if he’s some reckless man who works too hard and parties much harder, even if that’s kind of what he does.

The hangover doesn’t help at all; he shouldn’t have chugged that wine while the woman was giving him head, which was amazing, he reminds himself. He just knows he won’t be seeing her again after this morning because she’d been stubborn and shameless, and definitely not because of how she spoke to you and the insinuations she made.

“Mr. Jeon, your breakfast is ready,” you inform him, breaking him out of his thoughts.

He takes a seat on the table and you sit next to him, taking out your iPad to start your rundown of last Friday’s meeting and this week’s schedule.

“So—”

“Wait, give me a minute,” he stops you, and he realizes just how little sleep he actually got and he’s gonna have to push through today’s busy schedule despite feeling physically out of it.

“Okay, sir,” you say softly.

He munches on his toast with his eyes closed, and when he opens them, his gaze falls on you, sitting upright on the chair looking clean and proper in your blush blouse and beige skirt. You seem to be reviewing the reports from last week, your eyebrows scrunched as you scribble on the screen. He knows you took the hours-long trip to and from Daegu over the weekend; the visit, just like any, must have been tiring. Yet you come to his place everyday without fail, ready to do what he needs you to do, and he doesn’t even know if you’ve had anything to eat yet.

“Have you had breakfast?” He asks.

“E-excuse me?”

“Breakfast. Have you had it?”

“O-oh. Yes, I had some crackers and fruit on the way. I ate on the bus,” you respond.

He remembers your address from your staff profile. You live about 40 minutes from him, almost double if you commute. You come at 6:30 everyday, so he can only imagine what it’s like for you every morning.

“Why don’t you drive?”

“I don’t have a car, sir.”

“Shouldn’t that be part of your contract? Or a benefit of some sort?”

“It isn’t. I believe only the CEO’s assistant does,” you respond.

“Bitna has a company car.”

“Ms. Jung requested that when she was still President.”

“Then I’ll request one for you. It's… it’s too early. And you can’t always be assured of public transportation. There could be delays. Or an emergency that would require you to drive.”

Of course, he’d want you to get a car so that you’re more accessible to him. Just when you thought there’s actually a bit of his heart working this time, he reminds you why there isn’t.

“That’s true, but nothing has happened so far. And there are other options should there be,” you say. “I also don’t know how to drive so there is no need, Mr. Jeon. I leave my apartment early enough to make sure I get here on time, and I’ll let you know if I will be late.”

Jungkook just hums, even if there’s more he wants to know. What about late nights? What if there’s a storm? Well, he does know - he did see you miss out on taxis and then just walk last Tuesday; he wonders how you got home then, and how many hours of sleep you had after all that.

He lets it go; it’s too early to think about this.

“Good. We can run through the minutes now,” he says.

So you do, stating the points and confirming your actions for each one and then noting down his as well. You try to focus, and you’re able to for the most part, but it’s not easy when he sits just a few feet away from you, with his bare arms propped on the table that’s just hard to look away from.

You’ve always liked tattoos on other people, and the art on his right arm looks so delicate and personal; you wonder what someone like him would value enough to ink permanently on his skin. Even his untouched arm is mesmerizing, toned like every other part of him, with beauty marks that you spot as well. It doesn’t help that his slightly long hair keeps falling over his eyes, prompting him to comb them with his fingers every time.

What also doesn’t help are the woman’s words from earlier, as she’d managed to make you think of Jungkook in a very different way, given her descriptions of how he’d been last night. You don’t know what she intended by doing that, but you didn’t miss her insinuations about your relations with him, which are definitely far from the truth. Learning that he’s rough and loud in bed is also knowledge that you could’ve done without. Somehow, he sounds like how he looks - expressive of negative emotions, and the type to drain the other person.

He also sounds like the guys you’ve slept with.

The thought alarms you. These are things you shouldn’t be thinking about your boss, about the man who pays you, about the one who makes you miss meals and buses and who makes you angry because of how he treats you.

You try to dispel these ideas by coughing - the loud sound helps, and you also want to distract yourself from how distracted you are at your task because somehow he keeps getting more and more attractive after every glance.

He stands up, and just when you thought he’d be angry after your disruption, he surprises you by placing a glass of water in front of you.

“You can drink, you know? You can make yourself a cup of coffee. You can even cook yourself breakfast if it’s just crackers you eat in the morning,” he says.

Yes, you think to yourself. You’ve been wanting to try his coffee because of the fancy machine but breakfast sounds… too domestic.

“Thank you, but I’m okay. I mean, the snacks fill me up just fine.”

“It’s not proper breakfast, though,” he argues.

“With all due respect, sir, eating takes time away from all the things I have to do. I manage just fine.”

Expecting an annoyed expression from him because you did just imply that you do too much, you instead see the tiniest hint of guilt on his face, as if he actually feels bad that you’re unable to take care of yourself because of him.

“You’re not a servant, Ms. Cho. You’re not disallowed to do basic things just because of your job.”

“You have standards, Mr. Jeon,” you say, throwing his words back at him. You don’t expect to see his face fall a little, and you’re surprised that you seem to care. “I need to meet them, and I’m still familiarizing myself with how you want things done, and that takes time. I don’t mean to imply that you treat me like a servant because you don’t. I just… I want to be able to do things right and I’m still learning.”

The words hit Jungkook. He knows he’d been too critical during these first weeks, and that’s more because he’s unable to manage the initial attraction that he’s trying so hard to temper. He could’ve gone on correcting you constructively, with no need for harshness the way he did with Lucas when he started.

You’ve also been doing this for a few years. You’ve been working for the VP’s office longer than he has - you know the people and the processes more, yet you’re the one claiming you need to learn and do things right. Even he thinks his father, whom he never thought was the best at looking out for his people, wouldn’t be angry at those below him for irrational reasons. Somehow he thinks he’s worse than his old man now.

But the word sorry isn’t in his vocabulary. He’d rarely ever said it, and the only reason he’d heard it a lot growing up was because people caused his inconvenience, and not because they’d hurt his feelings. He doesn’t know what that’s like - forgiving and wanting to be forgiven. They’re foreign to him, but somehow those are what you’re making him want to know.

“I—”

“Can we move on, Mr. Jeon?” You interrupt him. “You have a scheduled check-in with your father before the 8:30 team meeting.”

“Right, that’s today,” Jungkook says, letting go of any form of apology he could muster.

He nods then stands up to head to his bathroom, and you follow shortly after to arrange his outfits for the week. You clean up in the kitchen after and wait for him to come out, with you reflexively walking up to him to fix his tie and make sure all the creases on his clothes are fixed.

Jungkook tries to remain still as you, like everyday, make sure he looks proper. It always took him a long time to get ready because he used to do all this on his own, but with you taking on the unofficial stylist role - which he admits you do a great job at - he’s relieved of that added stress of looking the part of a Vice President. It just also means that every morning, he has to look unaffected as you stand close to him like this, with you tightening his tie and your fingers grazing his clothed chest.

You smell like roses. It feels warm and nostalgic, like it’s familiar but also something new. It’s refreshing on you, and it wafts through his nose and paralyzes him a little. He tries to hold his breath like always, only briefly glancing at your focused eyes as you make sure he looks impeccable.

He’s caught off guard when you look up and meet his gaze. He doesn’t react, but he does linger and surprisingly, so do you. He wants to apologize but he doesn’t know how to. He just hopes you feel it somehow with how he looks at you; he’d like to think you do, as you gently bow and step back, taking your things to go down.

You go through his schedule while in the car, noting his dinner meetings and that the food tasting for next month’s event with the art industry professionals that you’re both organizing has been moved to next week, freeing up his Thursday lunch hour.

“I’ll schedule my visit at Taehyung’s tailor shop that day then,” Jungkook states. “I’ll have a few suits done.”

“Noted, Mr. Jeon,” you reply, adjusting his calendar.

He doesn’t say anything after. He takes his leather notebook and sketches like he often does, looking out his window only a few times as he’s engrossed in his drawings. Even with all that he is, you can’t deny Jungkook’s talent. You only know he took an architecture course but you don’t know if he actually practices it.

You start to wonder if Jungkook wanted that to be his profession but couldn’t pursue it because he’s expected to manage the company with his cousin. You wonder if he’d always been into drawing and the arts, if it was an outlet the way reading picture books was for you; you’d wanted to become an illustrator but your mother couldn’t afford drawing classes and that profession just didn’t seem like it could sustain you financially. You wonder what Jungkook thinks when he sketches and what his subjects are, if he feels at peace the way he looks, if he hopes he could just spend his days doing this.

The seeming warmth in your thoughts about this man concerns you, prompting you to turn away from his direction and stare out the window instead. You remind yourself that this is the same person who’d made the past two weeks miserable for you; he doesn’t deserve warmth from you in any form, even if, for the briefest moment earlier after you fixed his tie, that’s what you gave him. You learned that he’s quite mesmerizing when he doesn’t talk or when he isn’t scowling. You also learned you’re quite quick to fall into it when you let your guard down a little.

You groan internally. There’s a lot you don’t know about him and you don’t really care to know more; what you know is enough to put you off anyway. And so these moments of weakness - of curiosity, of concern - should not happen again.

Except, they do happen, over an hour later after Jungkook returns to his room from his check-in with his father. He sits on his chair, his eyes closed and jaws clenched, unmoving for a good few minutes, and you watch from your seat, wondering what transpired that’s got him this disturbed.

It happens again an hour later. He moved the team meeting to the afternoon and he’s now furiously typing on his desktop, making calls, sketching, making calls again, then sitting still with his eyes closed once more. Hoseok walks in, merely nodding at you, then enters the room and speaks with the younger man. Jungkook closes the blinds, and you’re left to wonder what’s going on behind closed doors and what’s got him angry and frustrated.

You take your chance at finding out when Hoseok emerges, asking him if everything’s okay, if Jungkook is okay.

“Yeah, he’s fine,” Hoseok says, a half smile on display, something you’re only a tad familiar with. “He’ll manage.”

He rushes out, saying he has a meeting to get to, and you nod, glancing at the closed door and blocked window, wondering what troubles Jungkook is handling on his own. If it’s personal, it’s clearly not your business. But if it’s work-related, then it is. You’re there to make things easier for him, after all. You also don’t want to be surprised and be bombarded by new tasks just in case, so it’s better to know if there’s something you can help in resolving things as well.

You walk in his room then place the ginger lemon tea on his desk, a common home remedy for hangovers, just in case last night’s events are still affecting him. You inform him that you’ve sent the reports already for his sign-off, and he responds that he’ll get to them tomorrow.

Glancing at his drink, he halts his typing to look at you.

“Do I look hungover to you?” He asks pointedly.

It’s clearly not what you meant, but you suppose the insinuation isn’t what he needs right now. You want to be swallowed by the ground. He was already calm towards you, civil even, and now there’s another reason for him to be upset at you. You wanted to avoid any possibility of that as much as possible, and now you’re here, at the verge of being told off again, just because your stupid brain decided to care the tiniest bit.

“I, uh, no, Mr. Jeon,” you stutter. “I just…”

You don’t have a reason. Clearly, you can’t tell him that he hasn’t seemed okay all morning - whatever that means - and that just in case it’s last night’s alcohol affecting him, there’s a cure. You stare back at him with worry, but instead of challenging or questioning you, he just sits back with his eyes closed again and dismisses you.

“You may leave,” he instructs.

“What about lunch, sir?” You ask.

You’d never cared before, why the change now?

“I’m fine,” he responds. “Call me when the meeting’s about to start.”

Your stubborn self takes the box of biscuits from the coffee table and places it in front of him. You’re pushing it, you think, but there’s a meeting he’ll be leading and he can’t be unfocused; when he is, it’s all the worse for you.

He doesn’t react and you walk out. When you enter an hour later to call him, you spot the empty cup and the crumbs on the saucer, and you can’t help the tiny smile that you make internally.

It’s short-lived though, as that whole afternoon, he acts unusually - he barely makes comments at updates, he doesn’t make eye contact, and doesn’t ask further questions. He just nods when you say you’re heading out at 6PM, giving you no added tasks to keep you from leaving.

You enter his penthouse the next morning to the banging of leather hitting leather, prompting you to jerk from the loud sounds. He’s grunting and panting heavily, and you just know that whatever it was that transpired yesterday, he’s releasing all his emotions right now, through this.

He exits the gym and walks to the counter where you are, finishing the water you laid for him in three gulps.

“Do you need that tended to?” You ask.

He looks surprised. You gesture towards his hands and he looks at his bruised knuckles; he really let it all out this morning, it seems.

“I’m fine,” he shrugs.

You didn’t think those two words from him would ever make you feel discouraged, but one thing you’ve come to learn about Jungkook is that he easily expresses his anger and frustration towards other people. It’s when he keeps things in that they seem more serious, and you wonder what words he heard yesterday that might have made him this closed off, this quiet, this much more distant.

But fortunately, your feeling of worry fades with each day that passes, as he slowly returns to his normal self after - the focus, the perpetually serious look, the attention to detail, the sketching on his notebook. Perhaps Jungkook just needed a particular kind of release and he’s maybe handling things better now.

For his sake and yours, you wish the issue has been resolved, otherwise another blow up might happen and that wouldn’t be good for your newfound dynamic that’s a lot more civil than anything.

It’s Thursday when you get a call at 5 in the morning, just as you’ve woken up to get ready for work, and Mr. Ri’s voice greets you on the other end.

“Hi, ___. How are you this morning?”

“Hi, Mr. Ri,” you yawn, curious as to why he’s checking up on you this early. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes,” he hums. “I was instructed by Mr. Jeon to pick you up today.”

“Why would CEO Jeon ask that?” You wonder, as you sleepily walk to the bathroom to wash up.

“He didn’t. Jungkook did.”

You stop on your tracks. You don’t recall being informed about this, nor do you know of any particular reason why you should be at his place so soon.

“Oh, uhm, okay. I should be ready in–”

“I’ll be there in about 50 minutes,” Mr. Ri interjects. “Sleep in a bit more and have some breakfast. I’ll see you shortly.”

You try not to think about what prompted Jungkook to have you picked up, so you focus on getting ready and then whipping yourself some fried rice using the leftover seafood from last night. You won’t lie, it tastes delicious. It might be that you just haven’t had proper weekday breakfast in a while, but it could also be that you’re energized enough and not pressed for time that you’re able to make this as good as it is.

You decide to bring some to Jungkook’s place just in case you get there late. Sure, Mr. Ri will be driving you, but you don’t know how the traffic is at this time, and this change in schedule is somewhat making you anxious. But then again, there’s always bread or cereal for him to eat; you just think that a little act of thanks wouldn’t be so bad.

Mr. Ri arrives exactly 50 minutes later and he assures you that he’ll get you to the penthouse in half an hour. You trust him of course; he’s been with the Jeons for decades and he knows these streets like the back of his hand. Seated in the passenger seat, you try to figure out what about today has got your boss a little kinder than usual.

“I arrived five minutes late yesterday,” you wonder out loud. “Is that why? He has a meeting with a local artist in the morning and he doesn’t want me to be late. That should be it. Ugh, stupid,” you groan. “I should’ve taken the first bus I saw, but it was so full and–”

“___,” Mr. Ri stops you. “Five minutes isn’t much. Plus, you always arrive 10 minutes before 6:30 and then just wait at the lobby. I don’t know why you do, you could always just go up to the penthouse when you get there, you know?”

“No, I don’t. Mr. Jeon has boundaries and clearly likes keeping his distance. Going to his penthouse before I’m supposed to be there feels like I’m intruding,” you argue.

“You’re literally his assistant, and you go to his bedroom and his closet, fix his things, prepare his meals… there’s no intrusion happening,” Mr. Ri counters. “I know the man. He’ll probably just look at you curiously then go about his routine.”

“Well, since you know him so well, then why did he have me picked up this morning?”

There’s a brief silence before the man next to you responds.

“He did note that you were late for the first time, but that wasn’t his issue,” Mr. Ri says, appeasing you before you react negatively and think that your tardiness was a big deal. “He asked if I knew how you got to Hoseok’s place before and I said you would just take the bus; it was closer to your place so it was fine. They have someone to make his breakfast, too, so you didn’t need to come early; plus, you only went every Monday.”

“What a change, huh?” You attempt to poke fun at yourself and the new arrangement you’re in.

Not that you’re complaining; you know of other executive assistants who do much more for their bosses and what you have with Jungkook isn’t even that bad. But it is quite the shift compared to what you did for Hoseok. You’ve figured out your own routine, though. And the commute isn’t always terrible, for as long as you’re not one of the unlucky ones, given the recent incidents.

“It’s quite the change. I don’t think he realized that until yesterday. He also asked me if I know if you eat properly in the morning. Maybe he thinks you don’t?”

“I’ve skipped meals…” you trail. “And well, I told him that I just eat crackers on the bus. Maybe he thinks I’m losing focus some days.”

“Maybe he’s just concerned.”

You snort at the absurdity of the statement.

Mr. Ri sighs. He knows that Jungkook hasn’t been his best self since he arrived in Seoul, and especially towards you. He’s noticed the young man’s indifference, the occasional passive remark, the frustrated looks, and the tension every morning. He’s noticed your faraway eyes, too, your constant anxiety, and unusual lack of confidence in your usual tasks, given that you look to be second-guessing everything you do.

As someone who’s worked for the Jeons for so long and who’d watched Jungkook grow up, he’s used to the detachment, but it was always because the young man often lived in his own head. There are always lots of thoughts and ideas, and lots of feelings he keeps bottled in.

But he’s also seen Jungkook’s kindness that he doesn’t always show, the guilt and anger that restrain him from expressing his emotions, and the care that he seems to put a brake on when he shows too much of it to someone, and so it isn’t much of a surprise to him to him when the young man gave this specific instruction to pick you up, not just today but everyday moving forward.

“The news on the radio reported on the robberies and complaints of sexual harassment against female commuters last night,” Mr. Ri continues. “They attack at any hour now. I’m sure that’s why. He wants me to drive you home everyday, too.”

“Mr. Ri, that’s too much,” you protest. “That’s not part of my contract and it isn’t his responsibility.”

“Maybe, precisely why I think he’s concerned. It isn’t about making sure you’re not late to work or anything. He’s worried that something might happen to you. And I agree. It isn’t safe, ___.”

“It’s not safe for me anywhere. I just… it’s too much,” you sigh. “I don’t need this kind of service. I’m not entitled to it.”

“He’ll insist though. Will you argue with him over your own security? I mean, it’s either this or he’ll pay for your driving lessons and then request for a car for you to use.”

You sigh, knowing he has a point. You don’t think you deserve it but you also can’t deny that the concern makes you feel a certain kind of way for him; gratitude, for one, and something else you can’t exactly name.

“Okay,” you say softly.

“Good. It’s about time he makes it up to you,” he chuckles. “Boy’s been a brat these past weeks. I wanted to just knock some sense into him.”

“Hmm, not like I expected any less,” you huff. “He just looked grumpy or disinterested during the times I’ve seen him before. Unhappy people like that aren’t always the kindest. Has he always been that way?”

“I wouldn’t say he has. I mean, he just wasn’t joyful or expressive, not like his brother. Jungkook liked to keep to himself; Hoseok often tried to push him out of his comfort zone but the boy wouldn’t really budge. I think as he grew up, that just amplified. People who prefer being alone have their reasons, don’t they?”

They do. You know this just like anyone, perhaps as much as Jungkook. It’s comfortable being alone; there’s no one to hurt you and no one you could hurt. You wonder if his reason is the same, and if, like you, he feels the loneliness creep in every once in a while.

You nod in silence and the conversation doesn’t continue until you arrive at Jungkook’s building. You have five minutes to get to his unit and you get there in three. When you enter, you hear grunting from the gym, and it’s shortly after when he exits and drinks the glass of water on the counter.

“What’s that?” He gestures at the plastic container next to you.

“It’s fried rice. I made it this morning because I had time to eat breakfast at home,” you say, softly smiling and then bowing at him to show your gratitude. Whatever his reason is, the act was appreciated.

“And you’re gonna eat again?”

“I was actually–”

You stop midway. You actually meant to serve it to him in case you arrived late, which you realize is pretty ridiculous.

“Actually what?” He asks, leaning forward on the counter now, with his bare arms from his tank top blinding you a little.

“I didn’t know what time I was gonna get here so I thought as a last resort, I’ll bring this to heat up and serve to you but then I realized that that’s pretty stupid because it’s leftovers and definitely not high-quality ingredients and it’s… just silly. Plus, you don’t eat rice in the morning.”

With his scrunched brows, he asks, “is it good?”

“It’s pretty delicious,” you say. “I mean, I liked it. I don’t know how sophisticated your palate is… Mr. Jeon.”

You smack yourself internally for rambling.

“What’s that got to do with anything? If it’s good, then it’s good.”

“I’m an ordinary person, Mr. Jeon. I have normal people’s taste buds.”

“So that makes me, what? Abnormal?”

“No… I–” you unknowingly pout. You shouldn’t have brought this in the first place.

Jungkook is disarmed again at the sight of your pouty face. If this is your way of thanking him for this morning, he’ll take it. The fact that you’d brought something you cooked from your own place to feed to him is already enough to make him feel hazy, which is why he needs to get away from you right away.

“Just heat it up. I’ll have that. There’s not much food in here anyway,” he says, walking away, leaving you no room to resist.

You do as you’re told, not wanting to overthink and change anything. You do check the cupboard and see a stashed pantry, and you wonder if he’d wanted to find something to criticize about your cooking, too.

He walks in and lets you fix his tie again, and for some reason, you feel more nervous than you normally do today. You sit and busy yourself with responding to emails as he eats his breakfast, careful not to look at him while he does.

“It’s good, a little better than how I do mine,” he says, surprising you.

“You cook?” You ask too quickly.

“Of course,” he frowns, looking a little offended. “I lived on my own for years. How do you think I survived?”

“Hiring people to do it for you,” you shrug.

Peeking at him once again, you see that he’s almost finished with the dish, and you can’t help the little smile on your face at the thought that he might actually enjoy it. It’s just fried rice, but you let yourself feel the shallow happiness from this. He’s at least not berating you or anything.

He finishes his meal as you go through yesterday’s meetings. There’s not much about the Arts Center he says, just like yesterday and the day before, and you start to wonder if the issue with his father has anything to do with that.

You let it go, opting to just follow his pace and let him talk about it when he’s ready, if he ever will be.

The morning goes by smoothly. Jungkook meets with Yoongi in his office then reviews the reports you’d sent last Monday. He sends you an email, saying that they’ve been approved and for you to attach his signature for sign-off and dissemination, leaving you perplexed at the lack of any other comments again.

He goes for a quick lunch at the dining hall while you eat a sandwich at the pantry, and not long after, you’re back in the car to head to Jungkook’s appointment with his best friend.

Kim Taehyung’s tailor shop boasts of classic European design. It’s elegant in all the ways that he is, as he stands by the desk in his working space, a smaller room on the mezzanine floor with an exquisite couch and displays of his work. He’s donned in an orange suit that you think only he can pull off, while his brother, Seokjin, sits on a chair in an impeccable black 3-piece.

You know as much that Jungkook grew up with both men, but while the brothers are often a hot topic on the news because of their wealth, their successful businesses, and colorful dating lives, you now wonder how Jungkook managed to stay out of the spotlight despite being a lot of the things that they are.

You bow at them after Jungkook introduces you as his assistant, and you’re surprised when Seokjin reaches out his hand to shake yours, bowing as well and offering you a kind smile. Taehyung does the same, and you can’t help but feel the warmth on your cheeks. They’re clearly incredibly handsome men with amazing styles, just like your boss, but they’re obviously respectful and gentle, unlike him.

“Nice to meet you, Ms. Cho,” Taehyung smiles. “So, what events do I need to dress my best friend for?”

He looks warm, friendly, and you can’t help but mirror his smile as he offers you a seat and some tea. You take out your calendar and enumerate at least three big events in the next months, which would require standout designs. Jungkook also wants four additional everyday classic suits, and Taehyung starts sketching on his pad as you speak.

“Make one for my event, too,” Seokjin says. “I’m launching my traditional alcohol brand in Singapore in September. It’ll be a big thing so Jungkook needs a fancy piece for that as well.”

“That soon?” Jungkook asks.

“Yeah, it got pushed early,” Seokjin replies.

Jungkook asks you to check his calendar for any activities in the Singapore office, and you state that there’s nothing scheduled during that time.

“There’s a landscape designer I want to meet while I’m there. Schedule one with her later,” Jungkook instructs you, and you make a note to coordinate with Lucas, who will continue to serve as the assigned assistant for the Vice President’s Southeast Asia trips.

Taehyung finishes the rough designs quickly, given that he’s already familiar with the style his client wants. He’s done a lot of Jungkook’s suits, which you know from all the weeks of preparing his clothes, and you do admit that he looks best in these custom-made pieces.

As Taehyung takes Jungkook’s measurements - given that, as per his words, Jungkook has gotten wider since the last time - he asks if you have something to wear for those big events, too.

“Uh, yes,” you say.

“Are they from company events from before?” Taehyung asks.

You nod shyly. It’s not like you’re paid enough to afford a new one every time nor can you wear them anywhere else; there aren’t exactly regular fancy dinners and social occasions you get invited to.

“Have new ones made, then,” Jungkook says, his back turned to you.

“Uh, there’s no need, Mr. Jeon. The gowns still look new and they’re well-made,” you insist.

“Store-bought?” Taehyung asks, his eyebrow cocked.

“Uh, yes, Mr. Kim.”

“Nothing beats custom-designed ones though. And I must say, I’m kinda good at them.”

“I, uh… it’s really not necessary,” you stutter, feeling a little too shy and definitely undeserving. It’s Kim Taehyung; his name is the brand.

“I believe it is,” Jungkook says now, turning to you. “They’re big events and we’re organizing one with the arts professionals. Some dignitaries will be coming, too, including the culture minister. I’d prefer if you looked the part of working for the Vice President, Ms. Cho. You represent me in that way.”

“I… uh, okay,” you sigh, knowing you don’t seem to be in a position to turn him down.

“Great. Start thinking of designs, then!” Taehyung beams.

It’s some minutes later when Jungkook’s measurements have been taken and Taehyung calls for you. You sit on the chair facing his desk not far away while Jungkook and Seokjin talk about sports and this new club that opened in Gangnam.

Seated in front of you, Taehyung takes his sketch pad and starts asking what design you want.

“Something simple and comfortable since I’ll be moving around,” you say softly. “And nothing form-fitting or revealing since, uh…”

“I understand,” Taehyung smiles, revealing a gentle side of him that the paparazzi and tabloids clearly don’t capture.

He starts drawing your silhouette, glancing at you then at Jungkook before speaking.

“So, he’s been in this role for a few weeks now. Has he been nice?”

“Define ‘nice,’” you respond, earning you a chuckle.

“I guess that’s my answer, then.”

“I don’t mean to say he isn’t,” you backtrack. “Mr. Jeon just has a different leadership style as Mr. Jung’s, that’s all.”

“I suppose that’s quite a difficult adjustment for you, huh?”

You purse your lips and Taehyung laughs, the soft way he does it is something new and refreshing to you. You didn’t realize how deprived you are of such gentleness, of such acts or sights as simple as a smile. Hoseok is no longer your source. Your team hasn’t been as jolly these past weeks. The only other person you talk to regularly at work is Yoongi, and while he’s definitely been smiling more, it’s a lot more teasing than it is comforting. You’ve been missing your best friends more because of that, you think - Soomin’s smile is blinding, Jimin’s is sweet and infectious. Perhaps it’s why you haven’t been smiling much yourself.

“I won’t tell, don’t worry,” Taehyung assures you. “I just wanted to check on him. This whole move has been tough but he doesn’t say much. I’m guessing he doesn’t tell you, either, but he’ll definitely show it.”

“He has, actually,” you say softly, knowing now that even with his closest friends, Jungkook tends to keep things to himself. “He’s pretty stressed most days, always working and stuff. He’s been a little hard on me but I guess that’s a natural reaction for some.”

“That’s not an excuse though.”

“It isn’t, but… it’s okay. I can handle it.”

It’s not as much of a lie anymore as it used to be. Jungkook hasn’t been overly critical about things as he was just last week. He rarely makes comments on your minutes now, doesn’t correct the reports you reviewed, doesn’t talk over you or doesn’t yell. There’s been a change, definitely, and you wonder what triggered it.

“He doesn’t really smile, does he?” You ask, your curiosity getting the better of you.

Taehyung’s laughter is one of disbelief and pure amusement, catching the attention of the other two men but he waves them off.

“He still does, just not as much,” he responds. “It kinda stopped after the breakup with Chaerin but I guess that’s what heartbreak does, right?”

“I… wouldn’t know. I’ve never experienced it,” you shrug.

“Lucky,” he hums. “I don’t wish it on anyone.”

You glance at Jungkook, briefly letting yourself imagine a version of him that’s a lot more carefree, relaxed, perhaps happy. Maybe it’s the loneliness and that you’d understand; that, you’ve experienced. It’s both liberating and isolating. You wonder if that’s how he’s been feeling all these years since then.

“I’m done,” Taehyung announces, showing you three designs that are exactly what you asked for.

“These look nice. And way out of my price range,” you laugh.

“Perks of having a rich boss,” he winks. “I don’t want you to worry about anything, okay? You’re my client and I want you to wear these with confidence. Now, if you’re okay with all this, I’ll get one of my female assistants to get your measurements.”

You nod in response. There’s absolutely nothing you would change about those designs. And if you’re being honest, you now can’t wait for those events just so you could wear them. Hoseok had obviously paid for the gowns you had to wear for the big events, but those were store-bought that A-yeong helped you choose. Some were your own purchases, but this is the first time that you’re getting measured for custom-made clothing designed by Kim Taehyung.

You walk towards the fitting room at the corner where one of his staff meets you. She’s meticulous, which is why it takes longer than usual just to get this done. With her silence, however, you’re able to hear the conversation happening outside, with the brothers now asking Jungkook about the same thing you’ve been wondering about.

“By the way, what was up with you last Monday?” Seokjin asks. “I thought that was gonna be night 4 of you going home with a new woman. But you passed out before you could even ask. And that was just 9PM.”

“Four nights isn’t much, though,” Taehyung laughs. “Didn’t he do that with seven women on seven straight nights when he was in Singapore? That was wild. Was it that stressful there? Or were there just so many to choose from?”

“Shut up. I’m not proud of that,” Jungkook groans. “And that was one time. It never happened again.”

“It never happened seven times straight again,” Seokjin corrects. “You were really living your life out there, huh? Stressful job, a rooftop bar in your apartment building, chauffeur and butler services 24/7, women from all over the world begging to sleep with you…”

“It’s called the post-break up stage,” Taehyung says.

“For six years?!” Seokjin asks incredulously. “It’s either you loved Chaerin that much, you blamed yourself too much, or you just really sucked at moving on.”

“I vote all of the above,” Taehyung states.

“Me, too,” Seokjin claims.

“Fuck you both,” Jungkook groans again.

“I think he also just missed us too much,” Seokjin adds. “Lucas was cleaning up your messes every time, not snapping you out of it. But we’re here now so I guess three straight nights is as far as you’ll go.”

“Two, if you stopped me last Sunday,” Jungkook points out. “You both always insisted that Sundays are a no-no. You were too busy with your own women.”

“May we remind you that you didn’t even make it to our table. You stepped foot in the bar then left five minutes later,” Taehyung says. “But really, what was it about Monday? You seemed angrier than usual.”

“Just… a bunch of things my father said,” Jungkook huffs.

“Did he tell you off again?”

“Not really, surprisingly. He just delivered a message basically, about what the board members were saying about me and my project. Bullshit stuff, you know? I just wanted to forget about it.”

“Did you?”

“Sorta,” Jungkook says. “I still don’t want to talk about it.”

“But it’s still happening, right?” Taehyung asks worriedly. “The Arts Center, I mean. You’ve been wanting to work on that since the building was abandoned five years ago.”

“I don’t know,” Jungkook responds. “I guess. We already put money into it. I’ll just have to make concessions if my father doesn’t side with me on this. I hate to think he’s buying into what those old folks are saying.”

“Ms. Cho, we’re all done,” the staff member tells you, muffling the conversation outside that you couldn’t help but hear.

It felt quite intrusive, hearing how life was like for Jungkook in Singapore, but then again, his personal life seemed to be the topic in the office comfort rooms, and you don’t know how to feel about getting confirmation about those rumors. It felt sad more than anything though, living that kind of life away from friends and family. You wouldn’t know what moving on from a breakup feels like, but you suppose people grieve a lost love in their own ways; you can’t blame them for how they choose to repair the parts of them that broke.

But the bit about his conversation with his father is what bothers you. You’d hate to think that there’s a possibility that Jungkook’s plans won’t be fully realized, and whatever the reasons for that are, you hope they didn’t break his spirit too much. You know the plans now like the back of your hand and the more you learn, the more you believe in it. You hope Jungkook continues to believe in it, too.

You exit the fitting room, catching the end of a conversation where Seokjin suggests a wholesome weekend for the three men of just dinner and drinks. The two other men agree, and they all turn to you once you make your presence felt.

“All good?” Taehyung asks you.

“Yes,” you bow in thanks.

“Great. The gowns will be ready at the same time as Jungkook’s suits will be. I’ll just let you guys know, okay?

“Sure,” Jungkook says. “But anyway, we have to get back to work. Thanks again.”

The brothers bid you and Jungkook goodbye, and you head back to the office with not much words said. Jungkook seems less frustrated, but the worry you feel suddenly returns. It’s the thought that maybe he doesn’t feel supported, that maybe what he’s doing isn’t enough, and that more than that, it's him choosing to deal with all this on his own, not even looking to his friends to comfort him.

Jimin and Soomin meet you for lunch at a restaurant that Saturday afternoon. The drive from Busan took longer than expected, they said, but you say you don’t mind. They’re visiting you like they always do every month, regardless of how busy they are back in their hometown, which was your home for a few years, too.

You were in the same class; your mom worked at the school, which was the only reason why you were able to attend a prestigious one in the first place. Even when you moved back to Daegu, you remained in touch with them. Despite the distance, none of you wanted to just let the friendship fade, and even when they had to stay back and you made a life out here in Seoul, they made sure to visit you as much as they could.

They’re why you were excited for the weekend to come and now, you’ll be enjoying a hearty meal, getting your nails done after, lounging at your apartment, and then heading to a club for a night out, which you only do whenever they’re around.

“So, has the boss situation improved?” Soomin asks, her eyes soft and laced with worry “Or should I storm the jerk’s house and give him a piece of my mind?”

“It has,” you chuckle. “So no need to call him names or fight anyone. I’m okay.”

“Well, you did call him a grumpy old grinch with nice hair the other week,” Jimin points out. “So… did he get a haircut?”

“No,” you laugh again. “And that was in the heat of the moment. I… I mean, he’s still grumpy but he’s not… as grumpy or unbearable. He’s been—”

“Oh hun, please don’t say he’s been kind and then give him a pass for how he’s been to you,” Soomin reprimands. “Mean people don’t just become nice all of a sudden. And if they do, that’s a controlling tactic - they want you to think they’re capable of change so you’ll soften up to them and then give them a pass every time they do asshole-y things again.”

“You watch too many shows,” you frown, although knowing her statement isn’t wrong; it’s just not something you can relate with Jungkook.

Sure, he hasn’t been the nicest, but he also hasn’t been the meanest. He’s just been… him, you suppose - a bit in the middle; frustrated at worst, quiet at best, stoic on most days. He does seem to live in his head a lot, and while you won’t go so far as characterizing him as kind, he definitely hasn’t been insufferable these past few days.

“I’ve just dealt with too many assholes, ___,” Soomin corrects. “They’re all the same. Men are shit.”

“Except for Jimin,” you correct.

“Except for Jimin,” she concurs.

“I accept the honor,” he bows. “But seriously, ___. How has it been? You… you seemed really sad last week and I would’ve driven here then if we didn’t have that work emergency.”

“I’m okay, I mean it. I’ve experienced worse,” you try to assure them.

“You do know that having experienced something worse doesn’t mean it’s fine for you to experience something bad again, right?” Soomin points out.

“I know, but it also means that I know my threshold for bad behavior,” you say. “Jungkook was in a lot of stress and I did mess up. But I think he’s making up for that.”

“By apologizing, you mean?” Soomin cocks an eyebrow.

Your sigh tells her that’s definitely not what Jungkook has done.

“Well, he approves my minutes and reviewed reports much quicker,” you reason. “And he doesn’t comment as much. But actually, I think he just pities me. And that’s worse.”

“Why would he pity you?” She asks.

“I don’t know. Maybe because I said that a tree fell on our roof and that mom got injured the weekend before my mishap,” you explain. “And then he found out how early I start my day just so I can get to him on time. He’s made adjustments after those and I… I think he’s guilty or something. And he’s just not being his usual angry self around me to make it up to me.”

“So in short, he’s still kind of an asshole,” Soomin says, prompting Jimin to snort and you to pout. “He could always just apologize if he’s guilty and realized he should treat you better.”

“Some things aren’t easy for other people to say, you know?” You say softly.

“That’s not an excuse,” she points out.

“It’s an explanation,” you counter. “Or one of them, I guess. I don’t know him well enough, but it’s better to think that he’s a decent person who just struggles with emotions than someone who willingly makes people’s lives difficult. I mean, that’s easier to manage and accept.”

“If that helps you deal and he’s indeed improving, then maybe I won’t have to storm his place then,” she smiles, taking your hand and kissing it as she likes to do.

She knows your habit of pressing your nails onto your skin, and she always said she likes to remind you that you deserve gentleness, too; she’ll give it if you can’t give it to yourself.

The rest of the afternoon goes as you planned, with all the banter you’d expect from your best friends amid the pampering and then the chick flick in the background as you get ready in your tiny apartment.

You smile at your reflection in the mirror. The high-waist trousers and sleeveless top ensemble is a refreshing sight for you, as you only really dress up like this for a night out. You’re in your usual pencil skirts and blouses otherwise, and in jeans and tops or oversized jumpers on a normal day.

Soomin’s done your makeup and Jimin compliments you as he looks on, and soon enough, they’re ready as well to head out.

“Where’re we going?” You ask from the passenger seat as Jimin navigates the busy streets of Seoul on a Saturday night.

“Some new restaurant the guys discovered,” Soomin responds. “I think it’s not far from here.”

“Okay, good. Hajoon’s been texting, asking what time we’ll get there,” you tell them.

“Geez, you were already with him last night. Tell him to be patient,” Jimin rolls his eyes.

Soomin laughs from the backseat as she teases that he’s just being jealous, to which he points out that he just hasn’t seen you in a while so the man can wait. And you assure Jimin that you’d gladly skip a night with Hajoon to be with your best friends, no questions asked.

You get there eventually, and you immediately spot the group because of the laughter coming from their table. There are four men; the two women are Soomin’s friends, which is how you got involved with Hajoon in the first place. You met some time last year and you’ve been hanging out with him since then - among other things - and you’ve been enjoying it, given the simplicity and lack of drama when he’s not being moody. He’s a warm body who knows how to use it and you’re a good type of relief, as he’d said; there’s really not much more you need as you just try to survive through life and make something out of yourself in however way you can.

Hajoon waves at you from his seat, gesturing to his left to say he’s saved that spot for you. You head there after greeting your other friends, with Jimin and Soomin following you.

Right as you sit down and greet the man next to you, you’re caught by surprise when he kisses your cheek and snakes his arm around your waist.

“Hey, I missed you today,” Hajoon hums, smiling at you the way he did last night and this morning; it definitely wasn’t this sweet when he left for a work trip last month.

“I… saw you today,” you frown, earning you a chuckle.

“I know; I was still thinking about you, though,” he says.

You give a smile - as genuine as you can make it - and then turn towards your friends to your left who are trying to hold in their laughter.

You order a beer after he offers you a glass of wine, and then go for the pork belly when he says the salmon here is good.

“Just craving for meat, that’s all,” you tell him.

“Is there anything else you want? Just let me know, okay?”

You hum your yes and then turn back to your friends after Hajoon makes jokes with his.

“Since when was he this sweet to you?” Soomin whispers with wide, curious eyes.

“Since never,” you reply. “I mean, we’ve never been affectionate outside of bed…”

“Is anything else different?” Jimin wonders, careful not to bring attention to your conversation.

You look back at how things were before Hajoon left and how it was when he was away. Nothing seemed different. You hung out at his place before he flew out, then you messaged each other every now and then during the one month he was abroad. He was more interested to talk, but given the time difference and the pressure and stress you’ve been under the past weeks, you didn’t bother much, neither did he.

But you also think back to last night - how he picked you up from your apartment, which he’s never done before, and how he prepared a luxurious dinner. He made you breakfast this morning, too, whereas you both usually just sleep in in tangled limbs and then separate once you wake up.

“He cooked me fancy stuff but I just thought he wanted to show off what he learned during his cooking masterclass,” you shrug. “And well… he seemed sweeter than normal.”

“Maybe he hooked up with someone while he was away and he’s guilty about it,” Jimin suggests.

“He didn’t say anything about it and he knows I wouldn’t mind,” you say. “We’re not exclusive, even if I don’t hang out with other guys.”

“Maybe he’s over the fucking and wants to do the loving bit now,” Soomin offers. “I mean, he always seemed more into you than you were into him.”

“He’s hot and decent when he’s in a good mood; that’s all I need,” you admit.

“But honestly, that’s probably it,” Soomin continues. “I think he’s hinting that he wants to be more.”

“But I don’t want to,” you whine. “I’m not ready.”

“You’re 30! When are you ever gonna be ready?” Soomin whisper-yells.

“Never!” You pout now. “I mean… Not with him.”

“Well, you’re gonna have to tell him soon, then,” Jimin sighs. “Before it gets messy. And you hate messy.”

“What if men just don’t have feelings?” Soomin wonders out loud. “That way, you can’t hurt them.”

“So that way, they can hurt you?” Jimin points out. “No. I’m not letting any men hurt either one of you, okay? I love you both too much.”

“We know,” you and Soomin say at the same time.

“But I agree with Jimin, ___. You’re gonna have to let that man next to you, who’s thankfully deaf, go. And then just find another person who can give you what you need,” Soomin continues. “Like, uh…”

She looks around the semi-packed restaurant to find some random man to just point to, her eyes widening in awe as she spots a table close by with the type of men she was just thinking about.

“Like them.”

You laugh at her, not taking her seriously, but still, you look towards the direction of her cocked head, only to feel your throat dry up and your heartbeat speed up. Your eyes widen in reflex as they meet the piercing gaze of the man who’d given you a headache for weeks. He also happens to look unfairly handsome in his white top and slicked back hair.

“Shit, I would totally go for them,” Soomin adds, “and I only even like men a quarter of the time.”

Your best friends look at you as they wait for a response, only to see a nervous look on your face, as if you’re seeing a ghost or something, and the way you turn to them and stutter almost seems like you are.

From the other table, Jungkook pants quietly. You finally looked his way, and he didn’t know what to expect your reaction to be - maybe a bit of shock, but definitely not this worried. Granted, you’re out with your friends at a restaurant that he and his friends frequent. It’s not the type of place they’d normally go for - this is a lot simpler, less private, and more accommodating than the exclusive restaurants and hotels they go to for dinners before heading to a club. But Jungkook loves their pork belly; he orders it every week, and tonight, he was craving for this specifically before going to a private party of one of Taehyung’s clients.

Jungkook had seen you when you sat down, and he’d been taken aback when the guy to your right immediately kissed your cheek; it seems he’s barely let go of your waist since then, too. Perhaps the man is your boyfriend - and Jungkook doesn’t know what made him think you wouldn’t have one - but it also seems that the one to your left is into you, too, at least based on how he smiles at you sweetly but rolls his eyes at the affectionate guy to your other side.

But other than the embarrassing obvious affection that both of them are directing at you, what made him lose his senses is how you look, and you’re even more beautiful than he imagined. Your hair is styled, your makeup is bolder than usual, and he won’t even start with how you’re dressed. It’s a lot more skin than he’s used to - you’re out, after all, and if he’ll go by what your companions are wearing, he supposes this is your stop before heading to some club to party, too. Whereas when you’re at work, you have the skirt and long-sleeved blouse ensemble that you wear everyday - still pretty, perhaps just a lot more reserved than what he’s seeing now.

He can’t take his eyes off you, even as you entertain your suppose-boyfriend, even when you engage in hushed conversation with the man and woman to your left, and even when you stare back at him, the initial shock now wearing down to a look of curiosity. Perhaps you’re wondering why he keeps glancing at you, too.

“I told you he’s got it bad,” Taehyung laughs from the other side of the table.

He’s noticed how his friend hasn’t said much in the last 10 minutes, his gaze directed at the loud table close by. One glance and Taehyung knew why.

“Well, we told him,” Seokjin corrects. “He only ever acts out when he’s threatened and he’s apparently threatened by his pretty assistant.”

“I’m not acting out,” Jungkook scowls, finally breaking the staring contest with you.

“You’ve never been this much of a jerk,” Seokjin says. “So yes, you’re acting out.”

Jungkook ignores them, his eyes turning back to you, and finds you downing two shots of tequila consecutively, then using the beer as your chaser. His knuckles unconsciously clench when your suppose-boyfriend scoots closer, whispering something in your ear, his lips grazing your skin.

Jungkook exhales deeply, trying to get a grip of himself. He’s acting foolishly. You obviously have a life outside of work, and it obviously includes going out for dinner and drinks with friends, having a boyfriend, and enjoying your youth the way he is. There’s a world outside of the routine you’ve both created, of the silence you both share, and the time you spend together, unknowingly learning about each other without meaning to, without wanting to.

“___,” Soomin calls your name one more time.

“Huh?” You answer, finally tearing your eyes away from Jungkook, who’d unfortunately captured your attention after you noticed he was there.

You’ve been used to his impeccable looks in his fancy suits; you’ve even gotten used to his tank top and sweatpants post-workout outfits every morning, and while you’re still not immune to that look, his night out wear fit for a party leaves you more choked up than normal.

Maybe it’s the black jeans that you spot as he sits on the edge of the couch, or the white button-up top with the rolled sleeves up to his elbow, or his haircut that makes him look a little more mature. Maybe it’s all that and the way he’s gazing at you, the look in his eyes something you can’t quite read. Perhaps like you, he’s surprised to see you here the way you’re shocked that he’d chosen this place to eat; it’s not exactly a fancy restaurant you know he likes eating at.

But he’s here, and so are you, and suddenly you feel exposed, as if the world outside of work that you’ve kept to yourself is baring open to the man who stands at the center of what you do everyday. And you’re not sure how you feel about that.

“I was just saying… those men are pretty hot and they look interested, too,” Soomin wiggles her eyebrows. “ I mean, they keep looking here.”

“One of them is my boss,” you finally say. “Guy on the right. That’s… uh, that’s Jungkook.”

“Holy fuck, hun,” Soomin chokes on her drink. “Why did you leave out the part about your rude boss being a fucking god?”

“Does it matter?” Jimin scowls. “He’s still rude.”

“It’s different when the guy’s hot. It makes the anger more intense, you know?” Soomin says. “Attractive people elicit more passionate feelings sometimes.”

“Excuse me, that’s not why I was angry,” you pout. “He was really being unfair.”

“Well, he was. But I think my point also applies,” Soomin argues. “I’d just like to warn you that workplace hotties are a menace. Except for Yoongi - he was heaven sent. ”

“Ah, the man who could’ve been,” Jimin sighs. “We at least knew he wouldn’t hurt you. He didn’t seem like the type.”

“Yeah, this dude over here is hot but he’s mean. And that’s your type,” Soomin smirks.

“Can we… not talk about this while he’s there? And while this other dude is right next to me?” You glare at your friends, especially at Soomin whose insinuation wasn’t lost on you. “It’s so… weird.”

“Hey, we’re here for you, okay?” Jimin softens as he looks at you. “Just let us know if one of them makes you feel uncomfortable. We can always just stay at your place and watch horror movies until morning and you and Soomin can lose your voices from screaming and then I’ll lose my hearing because of it.”

His words make you laugh. There’s a tenderness in Jimin that you’ve never heard from anyone else before. Even when he’s telling you to stop yelling because you live for the thrill of a jumpscare, he says it so tenderly while laughing before pulling you both in his embrace.

“I’m okay. I’m just… I don’t know, probably just not used to seeing him somewhere that isn’t the office or his home,” you reason. “And I feel a bit exposed, I guess. This is my world and his is… right there.”

You wrap your arms around your body subconsciously, realizing only you’d done it when Jimin asks if you’re cold, offering his jacket then taking it back because Hajoon might smack him or something.

You turn it down, knowing you actually feel hot more than anything. You’re dressed up and definitely dressed in less, and somehow having Jungkook see you like this is oddly making you shy, perhaps a little too conscious.

“Just don’t mind him,” Soomin advises. “It’s a restaurant. You obviously have a social life and he can’t fault you for it, nor make you feel weird about it. Just focus on us, okay? Or on Hajoon, if that’ll happen.”

You follow her words and try to block out Jungkook. You do slightly nod at him, as well as at Taehyung and Seokjin just to acknowledge their presence, but you continue on with your meal, as the dishes arrive soon after.

The pork belly is a winner; you’ll probably come back here for that alone. You do manage to dodge Hajoon’s attempts at feeding you, and your other friends engage with the three of you at the other end of the table. It’s going well for the most part, until Hajoon starts to act a little wary, a little tense.

“Hey,” he says, leaning close to you. “The guy on the other table has been looking at you all night. It’s kinda annoying.”

You glance at Jungkook’s table and he looks away when you do. “Oh, just don’t mind him,” you wave Hajoon off. “Maybe I remind him of someone or something.”

There’s a beat of silence, and you feel him tense even more, as you look up and see that he’s staring down the man on the other side. Hajoon’s had a bit to drink, and you know he tends to be cocky and irrational when he is. You groan once he shakes his head, saying he’s gonna give “that stranger” a piece of his mind because “he can’t be looking at my girl like that.”

The initial annoyance you feel turns into panic once he stands from his seat and storms to the other table. You follow him, with your friends just looking in worry. His friends are more encouraging of what he wants to do though.

“What the fuck is your problem staring at my girl like that?” Hajoon mumbles, acting all tough when he’s never threatened nor confronted anyone like this, even when he’s drunk.

Jungkook seems taken aback. Perhaps it’s the aggression he didn’t expect, or maybe it’s finally having to acknowledge your presence in the restaurant, just in an unfortunate way.

“Your girl?” He scoffs.

The way the man is speaking to him is quite annoying, but he also knows your boyfriend is slightly drunk, so he dismisses him because Jungkook doesn’t need this drama tonight, especially not in front of you.

Hajoon hates the way this stranger is looking at him and not taking him seriously. He’d seen how he kept glancing at you, perhaps trying to get your attention away from him, and he’s really had enough. His words are slurring but this is the courage he needs to stand up for you. You’ve said before how unwanted attention makes you uncomfortable, and he’s gonna do something about it before the man gets to try anything with you.

“Yeah, my girl. You seem to have a problem with that, don’t you?” Hajoon grunts.

“My only problem is you making a scene right now,” Jungkook shakes his head. “You’re drunk and insecure and you’re embarrassing yourself in front of your girl.”

Not that you expected him to back off, but you didn’t actually think that Jungkook would further press Hajoon’s buttons. The man is drunk and insecure and indeed embarrassing, but getting told so is a blow to the ego, especially in your presence. And so you’re not surprised that this just makes him angrier, and since you’ve never dealt with this version of him before, you don’t know how to pacify him.

You didn’t actually think that Hajoon had a daring bone in his body despite being the way he is, but when he attempts to lunge at Jungkook, you’re left in disbelief. You’re quick enough to pull Hajoon back before he lands a fist on the other man’s face, but he’d been worked up enough that he hits the glass of wine on the table, knocking it over and causing the drink to spill on Jungkook’s thin white top.

“Mr. Jeon!” You shriek, pulling Hajoon back more forcefully before pushing him to the side so you can get ahead.

You take the napkin from the table and wipe Jungkook’s wet clothed torso, slowing down immediately as you realize what exactly it is you’re doing.

“I… uh,” you stutter, standing straight up and mirroring his questioning eyes.

It was a reflex for you, considering that you constantly make sure that he’s dressed impeccably.

“You know him?!” Hajoon asks in disbelief, tugging on your hand now so you’ll turn to him.

“He’s my boss, you idiot!” smacking him on the chest as you glare at him. “And you just put my job in jeopardy and for what?”

“Well, what can he do?” Hajoon challenges. “Get you fired because of me? Does he own the company and shit?”

“My father does,” Jungkook responds. “And I’m the Vice President.”

Hajoon just rolls his eyes but you aren’t amused. You glance at your table and gesture for one of his friends to take him, so one of them does. He stands up and pulls Hajoon away before he can do or say anything else.

“I’m so, so sorry, Mr. Jeon,” you say, your head bowed down as you apologize. “I…”

The mess on his outfit is too much; the red has stained the white top and you know he feels sticky. He looks like he has somewhere to go after this and that makes it worse.

“I– I can call Mr. Ri to get the car in here. I can get extra clothes from your travel bag,” you say, knowing that Jungkook always has a bag filled with clothes for emergency flights or check-ins.

You get your phone and make a call, telling Jungkook that his chauffeur will be here soon. You glance towards your friends who are still pacifying a drunk Hajoon, and you decide that they can handle all that. Right now, your priority is Jungkook.

You walk out towards the car that’s on hazard mode outside the restaurant and pick out the top that’s most appropriate for a night out, which happens to be a semi-loose black button-up. You head back inside, with Taehyung and Seokjin informing you that Jungkook has gone to the washroom, so you scurry towards there and knock at the door.

“Mr. Jeon, I have your black long sleeves here,” you say as your knuckles tap on the wood. “Just tell me–”

You’re interrupted by the sudden opening of the door, the sight of Jungkook in his jeans hanging by his waist and his unbuttoned white top catching you by surprise. His hair’s a bit damp and so is his bare torso, as you see that he’s tried to clean the wine off his body.

You catch yourself looking longer than you should, and you immediately look away as you hand him over what he needs.

“Please let me know what else you need, sir,” you say, your eyes glued to the pretty wallpaper as you awkwardly stand outside the washroom.

“Jungkook,” he says, earning him a curious look. “I mean, you don’t need to be formal. We’re not at work.”

You nod, realizing it does sound weird to address him as such in a casual setting.

“Okay… Jungkook,” you mumble, but even the way it rolls off your tongue is a bit odd. You’re not used to it, and you hope you won’t ever be.

He closes the door and you take this time to calm yourself down. You’ve been so worried since you saw the glass tip over and mess up his outfit, and given his hot-headedness, you’re a little surprised that he didn’t fight back. He does have a reputation to uphold but even then, stopping himself from punching Hajoon must’ve taken a lot.

The door opens and you sigh in relief; his outfit still looks good and he’s fully clothed, so there’s no lingering looks this time anymore. You take the top that he gives you, and you take the chance to apologize.

“I’m so sorry,” you start. “I don’t know why he— I mean, he’s a bit drunk and he’s not usually like this.”

“You’re not the one who should apologize so don’t,” he responds.

“Well, he won’t apologize so I will.”

“You didn’t spill the drink and you didn’t come at me. That was him,” he counters.

You just shrug, choosing to just concede. “I’ll just return this to Mr. Ri.”

He calls your name before you turn around to leave.

“I didn’t mean to cause a rift between you and your boyfriend,” he says, much too low and too gentle than you’re used to. “I hope I didn’t ruin anything.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you answer softly. “We just, uh, we just hang out.”

You don’t know why you feel the need to correct this misinformation. Maybe you just want to remind yourself because you’re not anyone’s anything; hearing Hajoon claim you as yours made you want to just create that distance even more.

Jungkook wants to push it, to ask more. The man clearly acts like he’s your lover, given the physical affection and the way he tried to stand up for you. But there’s a bit of shame as you state that you and the man “just hang out,” and there’s that wonder he feels - how can you be with someone without being with them, and if turning away people who are clearly into you is a tendency you have. There’s Min Yoongi, after all, who’d liked you enough to remain as your friend when you needed one despite how he felt.

“Okay then,” Jungkook nods. “And your job’s not in jeopardy. Don’t take responsibility for a stupid act you didn’t do.”

You bow in thanks, not much used to this side of him that’s understanding and even calm. You suppose he’d seen you worry about your job, had seen you look embarrassed over something that you didn’t even do, and perhaps he saw the discomfort over how Hajoon was talking about you.

You’re about to walk out of the hallway when his call of your name stops you again, prompting you to turn around.

“About earlier… did I… did I make you feel uncomfortable?” He asks, the worry in his voice surprising you.

You debate over playing it down or telling the truth, but you go with the latter.

“A… a little,” you admit, looking away.

You hear him sigh, and there’s a look of guilt in his eyes as you turn to him.

“I’m so—”

The footsteps of another diner in the hallway disrupts him, and you both make way so he can use the washroom, too. Perhaps you and Jungkook had taken so long, and you don’t want others to conspire about what’s happening, so you walk out and tell him again that you’ll just return his clothing to Mr. Ri.

From your table, Soomin and Jimin watch the awkwardness of your parting of ways, with you scurrying out the door and Jungkook returning to his seat with a deep sigh before glaring at Hajoon.

“He does sound and look like an asshole, aside from being hot,” Soomin observes. “That’s totally ___’s type.”

“Are you saying she likes her boss?” Jimin asks incredulously.

“I’m just saying that’s her type, not that she likes him,” Soomin corrects. “There’s a difference. I still hate him for making things hard for her. I wish he would stop treating her like that. You and I know she won’t quit anytime soon. Especially because he’s a Jeon.”

“I know,” Jimin sighs. “I wish we could protect her from all this, too. But she’s always done what she wanted to do. And we wait for her to tell us when things are hard; we just hold her hand whenever it is.”

“That’s all we can do, I guess,” Soomin responds. “Sometimes though I wish she’d just… let someone else do more than just hold her hand, you know? It could’ve been Yoongi, or even Hajoon before all this mess. It could’ve been you.”

“You know that’ll never happen,” Jimin laughs bitterly, with Soomin knowing exactly what he means. “You’re only ever just her friend or her lover; you can’t be both.”

Soomin hums in agreement, as she’d seen you draw the line with the men you’d come across with. You’d make it clear if friendship is all you want; you’d be straightforward if it’s just sex you’re seeking. You give either just your heart or your body and you’re always careful not to give both. There are parts of you that you don’t want to share, that you don’t want to expose to them; there’s a kind of hurt that you don’t want to experience.

They watch you walk back inside and then head to their table, where you sit next to a buzzed Hajoon who still has half a mind to look at you guiltily.

“I think I’ll head back home after this,” you tell the group. “Kinda not in a partying mood anymore.”

Your other friends apologize on Hajoon’s behalf, proceeding to ask you if that was really your boss and if he’d threatened your job because of it, remarking that it would be such an asshole move of him to do that or to even get mad at you for something you didn’t do.

You come to Jungkook’s defense; he didn’t say anything to that effect at all. Perhaps you’d been the unfair one who assumed that he would - that he’d demand that you apologize, that he’d use this against you.

“He’s… not like that,” you say, meaning it. You turn to your best friends who have disagreeing looks. “He… he tried to apologize for making me feel uncomfortable,” you say softly. “No one’s ever done that before.”

“Look, ___,” Hajoon starts, but you cut him off.

“I don’t really wanna talk about it,” you sigh. “I’ll just pay my bill and head out.”

You, Soomin, and Jimin all pay accordingly and then leave the restaurant, with you turning to Jungkook and his friends, bowing as a form of goodbye.

“Hey, why don’t we buy desserts at a convenience store and have our own party at your place?” Jimin suggests as you all settle in his car.

“That would be nice,” you hum. “This outfit wouldn’t be such a waste then.”

So that’s what you do, as your best friends treat you to all the snacks you love - a usual occurrence, really, as they used to do that back in Busan to cheer you up during the days when you were feeling sad. It’s one of the things that you allow them to spoil you with and they take advantage of that, as you go home with weeks’ worth of goods for you to enjoy.

You also picked up some drinks on the way, so you play some music and dance around with your wine glasses and take shots in between. It’s too early to be drunk but 11PM might as well be 3AM. You’re all seated snugly in your tiny couch as you watch some variety show on mute, laughing at the hosts' antics even if you can’t hear anything.

“Tonight wasn’t so bad,” you huff, leaning on Soomin’s shoulder as you doze off. “Both of you are all I need. Thank you for never disappointing me.”

They know you don’t always let yourself be this sentimental. They also know that when you do, all you want is for them to listen and to hold you. And that’s what they do, as you eventually clean up and fall asleep on the mattress with them, the events from earlier slowly fading away.

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forever-rogue · 3 months

Note

hello miss bee 🐝

if you're in the mood to write for joel id love to ask one where he and reader just had a baby of their own and ellie starts to feel left out but they both comfort and reassure her that they won't treat her differently since they already unofficially adopted her anyway 🫶🤲

AN | There may be a new baby on the way, but that doesn’t you’ll ever love Ellie any less. She just needs to be reminded of that💕

Pairing | Joel Miller x Pregnant!Reader

Warnings | None

Word Count | 3.3k

Masterlist | Joel, Main

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“I hate this,” you plopped down in the chair on the back patio with a loud huff. You heard a snort of amusement from behind you and turned around to find Joel watching you in amusement. Your lips pulled into a pout and he pressed a kiss to the top of your head, “this is all your fault.”

“Hmm,” he raised an eyebrow before going back over to the makeshift grill to check on dinner, “pretty sure that’s only half true, sweetheart.”

“Well,” you crossed your arms over your chest and frowned at him, “it’s still partially true. Being pregnant is the worst. Especially with this heat. I should have gotten pregnant in the summer so the worst of it would have been in the winter.”

“Think of it this way,” the way you raised an eyebrow in a way that suggested you were anything but amused, “we’ll have a fresh baby for the holidays.”

“I’m still hoping for a halloween baby,” you grinned, rubbing your belly that seemed to be growing by the day, “how cool would that be?”

“The coolest,” Joel teased as you laughed, an actual laugh that went straight to his heart, “I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.”

“The real question - do you think we’re going to have a boy or girl?”

“Girl,” he insisted without hesitation, “I’m always going to have my girls. I don’t think that’s changing anytime soon.”

“I guess we’ll just have to wait and see,” you took a sip of the fresh lemonade and let out a soft sigh, “but I have a feeling you’re going to be wrong!”

“Oh yeah? You wanna bet on that?” Joel stood there, hands on his hips as he watched you closely. You stuck out your tongue at him, causing both of you to laugh.

What you hadn’t realized was that Ellie was in the kitchen, getting some plates ready to bring out, listening to the two of you. She loved you, she loved you both immensely. She knew that you and you knew that. But she couldn’t help the pang that settled in her stomach and the way her heart seemed to constrict. It was a feeling that hadn’t left her since you’d told her you were pregnant. You and Joel had been so excited to tell her and despite the shock of the news, she’d been excited too. Ellie Williams was finally going to have a baby sister or brother. Her family was growing.

But as the weeks passed by and your pregnancy became more visibly obvious, the worse she started to feel. And it felt like it was eating her alive. It was a mix of emotions that she was struggling to handle and cope with. She was excited for you and Joel and your entire little family but it left her feeling…lost and confused.

Ellie knew that both of you viewed her as your daughter and she viewed you as parents. She wondered what it would like when the baby came. Your baby - your and Joel’s flesh and blood. Once you had your own baby, would you no longer care about her? Would she be pushed to the wayside as you welcomed and loved your actual child?

These types of thoughts had been plaguing her for months now. It was stupid, so fuckin’ stupid, she’d be the first to admit, and yet the feelings remained. Realistically, she could have gone to either of you and asked in order to alleviate her fears or get some simple reassurance. But that seemed silly too. What was she supposed to do? Come up to you and ask ‘hey will you still love me once the baby is here?’ That felt ridiculous.

Instead, Ellie internalized her feelings, deciding to push them away and act like nothing was wrong. You’d noticed that something was off with your girl recently. Things had just seen so crazy lately, with getting ready for the baby and Joel being off for a while with work to do, it hadn’t been easy. But Ellie really had been your rock and you hated the idea that you were neglecting her in any sense.

“Ellie?” the girl almost dropped the bowl of salad she was holding when she heard you call out to her. She swallowed the lump in her throat and blinked back her tears before heading into the backyard. Your entire face lit up when you saw her and she felt bad for a moment for ever having doubted your love and affection for her, “there you are, Ellie Bean! Everything okay?”

“Y-yeah,” she set the plates and bowl onto the table and nodded softly, “just got caught up cutting the…tomatoes.”

“There’s no tomatoes in the salad, baby,” you gave her arm a gentle squeeze, “we gave the last of them to the Meyers the other day. Are you sure you’re alright?”

She looked away and nodded, staring into the distance as she pleaded with her heart and mind to remain calm and collected. Joel clicked his tongue and caught her attention, giving her a questioning look. Sometimes he hated how well he knew her and how he seemed to see right through her.

“C’mere,” he motioned for her to come over and she obliged, walking over slowly with a heavy tread. She stopped in front of him and he put his hands on her shoulders, leaning down slightly so he was closer to eye level with her, “what’s wrong, baby girl?”

“Nothing,” she replied through gritted teeth. Joel knew that something was up but he didn’t want to push her and possibly cause her to pull away from him. He sighed softly before pressing a kiss to her forehead. It had become such a reflexive action that he didn’t even think about doing it any more, “you’re being gross and showing too much emotion.”

“Someone’s gotta do it,” he teased and that caused her to smile slightly at him, “‘cause it sure ain’t going to be you right, is it? You wanna talk about it?”

“Not really,” she whispered, “not right now.”

“Okay,” he nodded lightly, “I’ll be here and ready to listen whenever you’re ready.”

“I know, old man,” she pushed his arm before turning on her heel and walking back over to you. She sat down next to you, her gaze drifting for a moment to your belly. You reached up and touched her face, gently stroking her cheek, “you’re both such saps.”

“It’s only because we love you,” you beamed at her. She felt her cheeks growing warm and pink as she stared at the bowl of tomato-less salad, “you wanna help me make some dessert while the food’s cooking? I was thinking pudding…ooh or maybe some sort of pie?!”

“Sure,” she perked up at your enthusiasm, unable to deny the appeal of spending time with you and making a dessert, “let’s do it.”

Ellie decided that she’d figure out the rest later. Right now, she was okay and she just wanted the two of you to have some fun.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“I’m worried about her,” you closed your book and set on the nightstand before turning to your husband with a sad expression on your face. He followed suit and turned so he was fully looking at you.

“The baby?”

“I - no. And we don’t know if it’s a girl or boy yet so calm down,” you laughed for a moment before moving to sit crossed-legged - to the best of your ability anyway - and gave him a serious look, “Ellie. She seems so closed off lately and it always seems like she’s upset, but when I try to talk to her she changes the subject or finds an excuse to leave. I feel like my poor baby girl hates me.”

“She doesn’t hate you,” Joel took your hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze before you laced your fingers together, “she could never hate you.”

“But something is wrong and I don’t know what it is and I can’t fix it,” a wave of emotion washed over you and tears stung at the back of your eyes. You sniffled, fully aware that you probably seemed ridiculous right now but you didn’t care, “I just want to make it better.”

“Honey,” Joel’s voice was soft as he put his hands on your sides and gently pulled you towards him. You easily gave in, soft and pliable, as he settled you in his lap. You felt pathetic as you looked at him, tears running down your cheeks. He tenderly brushed them away before taking your face in his hands and turning your face up to his, “she doesn’t hate you and she never will. Whatever she’s going through right now, she’ll come around. She’s still guarded and sometimes these things take time. She’ll come around, she always does. We just have to keep on loving her.”

“Promise?” you whispered as he nodded softly. You leaned into his touch as he rubbed your back soothingly, “I don’t know what I’d do if…I don’t know. If she stopped loving us.”

“That ain’t happening,” he pressed a kiss to your forehead, “I have a feeling I know what’s going on with her.”

“Oh?” you looked at him in surprise and he couldn’t help but grin at the sight of your confused expression. The fact that you were so pouty and pregnant made you even more adorable to him than before. He had to fight back a laugh at your expression, opting instead to kiss you softly, “what do you think it is?”

“The baby,” he answered, putting a hand on your belly and rubbing it gently, “I think she’s worried about the baby.”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you think she thinks that we’re just going…to stop loving her?” the waterworks started again and this time you couldn’t hold back the tears, “she thinks we’re going to replace her!”

“Oh honey,” you wrapped your arms around his neck and tried to hug him as best as possible. You huffed as you buried your face into his chest and he softly cooed at you, “I don’t think she thinks we’re trying to replace her. I think she’s worried that we won’t have as much time and love for her."

"That's not true," you hated the fact that that thought even crossed her mind, "that's like…the farthest thing from the truth! She's my baby too. Nothing is ever going to change that."

"I know that," he gently brushed his fingers along your jaw before resting his hand on your cheek, "you know that. I think she just might need a little reassurance."

"Yeah," you sighed softly, "I can do that. I will do that."

"I have no doubt about that either, honey."

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Ellie startled when she heard your enthusiastic knocking on her door. She groaned as she looked at the old school alarm on the bedside table and saw that it wasn't even eight o'clock yet.

"Come in," she rolled onto her side so she was facing the door. You almost threw open the door in your excitement, already fully dressed and ready for the door.

"Hi my love!" Her eyes widened at your cheeriness, "good morning, Ellie Bean."

"It's early," she groaned as you leaned against the doorway, causing you to laugh softly, "why are you so awake?"

"I've been up for a while…couldn't sleep well," you shrugged it off, "but I thought it would be fun if we spent the day together, just the two of us!"

"O-oh," she slowly sat up, heart almost constricting with emotion, "are you sure?"

"Duh," you teased, "its been a while since it's just been the two of us and I figured we could have some fun!"

"Okay," she looked at you, an eyebrow raised in question. You clapped excitedly and she offered you a tentative smile in response, "w-wait, am I in trouble?"

"Of course not," you walked over to her and held out your hand to her. She took yours and slowly slipped out of the bed, "I just want to spend some time with my favorite girl."

"Alright," a little bit of a flush crossed her cheeks as she offered you a smile, "yeah, that could be fun."

"Let's go then slow poke, no time to lose!"

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Your day had been filled with doing anything and everything that Ellie wanted - within reason of course. As the day bled into night, the two of you were at the lake, sitting on the dock, feet dangling into the water.

"Can I ask you something?" You finally couldn't take it anymore and needed to clear all the air. Ellie paused before nodding slowly and turning towards you.

"Sure…"

"I feel like lately…things have been different," you put your arm around her shoulders and gave her a gentle squeeze, "and I want to make sure you're alright. You've been off lately, and I want to know if you're okay and if I can do anything to help."

"Oh. Oh," Ellie swallowed thickly; she thought she'd been better at disguising her feelings, "umm…it's…just. I don't know. Things have just felt different since you've been pregnant."

"Yeah?" You asked as she turned to you with a sad little smile and a nod, "oh, Ellie."

"I just…it feels weird that…umm. Like it's you and Joel, you know? And now you're having your own child and it makes me feel like…where's my place?"

"Baby," you tried to keep your own emotions at bay but it was hard when all you wanted to was to wrap her up in a big hug, "your place is with us - it'll always be with us. We're family. Nothing is going to change that."

"But if you love the new baby more than me?" You hated that she even thought anything like that. You wished you could convey just how very much you loved her, "I keep thinking about…what if you don't want me anymore."

"We will never not want you or love you," you took her hand and held it tightly in yours, "that will never change. Nothing could change how we feel about you. You're our girl, Ellie."

"Are you sure? The baby-"

"The baby doesn't change anything," you pulled her into your body as much as you could, "its another person we're bringing into our family that we can love. It doesn't mean any of us is going to get less love. Okay? I swear on my life. And Joel's life. All of it."

"Every time I've gotten close to people they've been taken from me," Ellie sniffled brushing at her eyes with the back of her hand, "my parents, my family, my friends…I almost lost Joel. I don't want to lose you too and the baby. I'm not sure if I'd make it if I did."

"Ellie," you softened at the young girl, "you are so young and you've been through so much. More than anyone ever should. And I know the world is scary and we don't know what the future holds but we can't let that dictate how we feel about the present or how we act. You're not going to lose us or your brother or sister. Never. And maybe me just saying that doesn't make anything better but I'll show you and I'll keep showing you that we mean it. Honestly, I don't think I'd survive without you. You are the world to me, Ellie."

"Being pregnant has made you so sappy," she laughed through her tears, "even more than normal. Its kind of gross."

"It's because I love you so much, kiddo," you grinned at her, brushing away her tears, "but the hormones definitely aren't helping! Luckily it won't be too much longer before the baby is here."

"Are you scared?"

"Terrified," you confessed with a sheepish grin, "but I know I'll be okay. I've got you Joel and you. Everything will be okay."

"Yeah," she nodded, a bit of confidence oozing back into her, "we'll be okay. I'm excited to meet the baby."

"Boy or girl you think?"

"Girl," she seemed so confident that you were almost convinced of that as well, "Joel's meant to be surrounded by girls."

"Funny, that's exactly what he said too," you shook your head in amusement thinking about the two of them. They were too alike for their own good, "I guess we'll just have to wait and see."

"Whatever," she playfully rolled her eyes, "we all know we're right!"

"Mhmm," you slowly stood up and held out your hand to her, "come on my love. Let's go home and annoy Joel."

She took your hand eagerly, "I love you too, just so you know."

"Yeah," you promised her softly, "I know. I love you more, kiddo."

Ellie approached you slowly, almost unsure if she should be coming over. You beamed at her, motioning for her to come closer. She stole a quick look at Joel, who offered her a small smile and nod of reassurance.

"Come here, my love," you held out your hand to her and she came over, staring at the bundle in your arms in awe, "I hate to admit it, but Joel was right. You've got yourself a little sister."

"Wow," she reached over and gentle stroked her chubby little cheek, "she's so small. What's her name?"

"Well, we don't have a name picked out yet," you smiled softly, "we were hoping you'd help us by picking her name."

"Me?"

"You! If you'd like to that is," you could see her eyes watering up, and your heart felt so full, "you can take a bit to think about it-"

"Daisy," she stated softly, looking between you and Joel to gauge your reactions, "I like Daisy."

"Me too," you gave her a hand squeeze, "Daisy it is. It's perfect. Do you want to hold her, Ellie?"

"I-I don't know," she swallowed the lump in her throat as the baby cooed softly, "she's so small and I don't wanna…hurt her."

"You won't," you promised, straightening up as she stepped closer, "hold her to your chest and make sure you're supporting her head, okay?"

"Okay," she reached over gingerly, as though the baby was made of glass. She took her from you and did as you said, holding the small baby protectively. Daisy made a few sounds before yawning and snuggling into Ellie. The girl watched her in amazement, "she's so cute and little."

"Just like you," you teased, reaching over and giving her arm a squeeze. You turned to Joel, who was watching the scene unfold with nothing short of heart eyes, "look at that, Joel. Look at our girls. They're the best."

"Yeah," he agreed, pressing a kiss to the side of Ellie's head, "they are. But you know what else?"

"Hmm?"

"I was right - it was a girl," he threw you a cheeky grin as you snorted in amusement, "wouldn't change it for the world."

"Yeah, me neither," Ellie piped up, "I guess we're a pretty cool family. Daisy and me anyways. You guys are alright."

"We love you too," you sighed contentedly, happy to have your little family all together, "both of you. Lots and lots."

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller imagine #joel miller one shot #pedro pascal #tlou

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randombush3 · 1 month

Text

THE SECOND PART

(to get back to the main post)

carry on reading!!!

[...]

Bali is hot. Or at least, by your English standards, it is.

The children enjoy the villa at the Ritz, less so the yoga you partake in when your best friends find out that it can mend broken hearts, and there are big TVs in the living rooms that the World Cup matches are broadcasted on.

Your fingers remain bare, but no one knows about the ring in your suitcase anyway, so no one questions the absence of jewellery that used to adorn your hands. Or, at least, no one whose opinion you actually care about.

Nico and Elena are happy to play and play and play, barely granting you their attention when you disrupt their endless hours in the pool or exploring the beautiful grounds of the hotel with the 24-hour childcare service. You had been reluctant to accept the help, but Gio was fine with her own daughter being stolen away, and they both called you ‘uptight and preoccupied, a sad, faded picture of how fun you used to be’ until you gave in.

You let Alexia wonder about how her children are, attributing her lack of phone calls to her focus on chasing World Cup glory, blissfully ignorant to the fact that your friends have been micro-managing your interactions ever since they agreed they aren’t sure about letting you forgive the blonde just yet. That is not to say she doesn’t ever speak to them – Nico was gifted an iPad for Easter (a shoddy, shoddy excuse of an occasion to be given it, but you barely batted an eye as he tore open the packaging and thanked Auntie Anya profusely). He sort of understands how to FaceTime Alexia. They often happen when he is with what Alexia calls ‘the can’t-mother-too-busy-doing-drugs nanny’.

You are lounging on the sunbeds, sweat pooling on your navel, music playing softly through the speaker Elena had begged you to bring. Though Moana pales in comparison to the days you’d attend concerts that weren’t your own, you are quite content to relax and zone out the lively songs and stare up at the brilliant, blue sky.

Today is a bit different. You are two weeks into your holiday, with one remaining, and, today is the day you are finally going to open Alexia’s gift.

You worked out what it was the moment she had given it, but, since you know that curiosity kills the cat, you have stopped yourself from opening it, not sure if you will cope with seeing a ring. What would this ring even be? A ‘sorry I fucked my best friend’?

Elena hasn’t been included in the children’s entertainment plans for the morning; they have gone for a visit to a coral reef, accompanied by their babysitter and Anya (who you are beginning to think is enjoying their activities more than they are). Despite being relatively advanced for her age, some things fall short, such as her attention span. It doesn’t help that the sleeping issues Alexia had noticed are leaking into her time spent with you, too.

“Mama,” comes a small whine, followed by a sniffle. Elena has been trying her best to copy you, lying underneath a towel for shade. You had hoped she’d finally fallen asleep, seeing as that didn’t happen last night. With her evidently still awake, you sit up, reaching out to run your hand through her damp hair, not quite dry from when she had enough energy to splash around in the pool.

“Mama, tired.”

“I’m not surprised. That’s what happens if you don’t sleep.”

“Mama.” The petulance is a little glimpse into her teenage years, but then she begins to cry and your imagination falters at the sound.

Elena, as far as toddlers go, is not the most emotional. She is generally well-behaved, if a little unresponsive at times, but she is quiet and introverted and happy to follow the leader, whoever that may be. She is a complete contrast to her brother, who basks in the attention he demands from those around him, loud about what he loves and hates, yearning to make friends with everything he sees. Elena, Elisabet Segura has told you, is just like Alexia, when she was that age. Controlled, reserved. (And your parents were quick to draw the similarities between you and your son.)

Just like her mother, Elena is drawn to you. Just like his mother, Nico is drawn to Alexia. Opposites attract.

It’s hard to ignore if you notice it.

So, when Elena begins to cry, you are alarmed to see, in her eyes, the same fear that clouds hazel irises you know far too well. The tears glide down her cheeks in inherited patterns, and you try not to panic at how much she looks like Alexia – even if they do not share the same DNA.

Part of you, the same part that suffered from postpartum depression and dulled your motherly instincts, wants nothing more than to run away from the crying toddler, horrified at the sight as you spiral and begin to imagine Alexia in her place, just as distraught as your daughter seems to be. And it’s weird and unsettling and you are so confused because Elena hasn’t cried like this since you told Alexia to leave. She continues, and even that night starts to seem minor in comparison to her meltdown right now.

Elena does not sob, she does not scream, she does not shout and go bright red in the face earnestly. A developmental tantrum, sure, but never, ever like this.

You have never seen this before, and you are at a loss for how to respond. Naturally, you draw her into your arms, holding her close and rocking her gently as she continues to wail.

“Oh, my darling,” you stagger out, trying to forget your desire to join her, to break down with her. “Mama’s here, Lela. It’s okay.” The words feel inadequate and do nothing to soothe her, though your hands stroke her back as if to rub the comfort in, to absorb her anguish and bleed it out. You would do it, if you could. You’d take all of her pain away in an instant.

In your mind, a whirlwind of thoughts swells up and disgorges bubbling, burning ideas into the pit of your stomach, none of them quite fitting as an explanation for her distress. Is she hurt? Is she missing Alexia? Or is it something deeper, something you’d overlooked?

You can be selfish, you know that. Perhaps you have been too focused on getting over the destruction of your family that you have forgotten said family in the process?

Perhaps this has happened before! You were touring for a while.

As you hold her, helplessness washes over you, as though the pool you are right next to has grown thrice the size and is trying to drown you both. You wish Alexia were here all of a sudden. Alexia, gifted at soothing crying children and being a mother and managing a career and parenthood in a way that you have never quite managed.

Alexia, who gave into your request for children and ended up besting you at it.

Alexia, whom you still love and miss and hope, sometimes, will wake up beside you even if you know that it is wrong and pathetic and… God, do you really lack such self-respect that you’d take her back? Are you this useless that the crying child in your arms should be passed off to someone else because you can’t cope and you never will and you still smoke because you’re stressed and the last time you took drugs was far too recent to be called a good mother and Elena cries and cries and cries and…

You take a deep breath.

“It’s okay,” you repeat, hating that you are lying to her. It’s not okay! None of it is okay. “Mama’s here, Lela, Mama’s here. You’re safe.”

Your voice trembles, and she hears the weakness of your tone, unconvinced and uncomforted, failed by the woman who is supposed to guide her through all of her storms as steady as the sun’s movement each passing hour. Elena’s cries continue unabated, her small frame wracked with sobs as she clings to you, squeezing your skin tightly in a way that tells you that you are not enough.

You, alone, are not enough for her.

You can’t do this.

With your arms holding her securely in place, you dip down slightly, grasping your phone from the tote bag it’s shaded in. It has been warmed by the sun anyway, but the heat of the screen as you press it to your ear is nothing in comparison to the burning in your chest, the fire her cries have ignited in a way that destroys everything in you.

She continues to scream into your body as the dial tone buzzes and beeps three times, picked up on the fourth as if she has been counting the rings.

“Dime,” Alexia’s gruff voice huffs out, unimpressed that you have called her after refusing for the past month, seemingly always busy. Anya and Gio had given her excuses; you were busy talking to Leah, you were in a meeting, you didn’t want to speak to her. “Now is not a good time.”

You only manage to breath out her name before she understands that something is seriously wrong.

“Alexia, it’s Elena… she’s… she’s crying, she hasn’t stopped. Alexia, I-I don’t know what to do,” you admit, voice breaking. You know she will be able to hear the sobs coming from the toddler, her voice mighty and fierce despite how small she seems. “She hasn’t slept at all, and it just… happened. I can’t calm her down.”

“Is she hurt?”

“No, no,” you stutter, words tumbling out in a rush, “I don’t think so.”

“What do you mean ‘hasn’t slept’? Not even a nap?”

You shake your head, panicked. At Alexia’s lack of response, you remember that she is not here with you. You swallow your own sobs. “She’s been sharing a room with Nico and everything’s been fine, except, last night, she wouldn’t sleep. It was like she was terrified of it. She begged me to let her sleep with me, so I brought her into my bed and, I don’t know, it didn’t help. I tried to tire her out, read to her, sang to her, told her off, comforted her, but she wouldn’t and so I drifted off and she didn’t and we were relaxing today – it’s just us, today – and she started crying half an hour ago and hasn’t stopped.”

As if on cue, Elena’s sobs grow louder, piercing through the phone line in a way that makes both you and Alexia feel sick. But Alexia has heard these before, and has kept them from you for a very good reason.

“She’s exhausted,” Alexia decides calmly. “She’ll cry herself to sleep.”

“She doesn’t want to sleep!” you snap, frustrated.

“She’s scared you are going to leave her. She usually… she usually cries for you, when she’s with me. I guess not seeing me has flipped it.”

“Usually?”

You pale.

“Usually, Alexia?”

You hear a sigh. “Do you want me to talk to her?” she asks, ignoring your horrified question. “Rub her back and keep touching her, so that she knows you’re there. I’ll… I’ll see if I can get her to calm down a bit so that you can – you need a breather, don’t you?”

“My daughter is crying as though the world is about to end.”

“Well, for her, it feels like it is. Put me on speaker.”

You obey her instruction, reclining on the lounger so that Elena is now curled on top of you, wetting your chest with her tears. You place the phone near her head, both hands trying desperately to remind her that she is not alone.

“Lela, petita, no estàs sola. Estoy aquí, y Mama también. Mai et deixarem.”

Elena sniffles, surprised by the sound of Alexia’s voice.

“That’s it, darling,” you encourage as the sobs are quickly replaced by resigned whimpering. Alexia continues to talk, hardly understandable as you let yourself succumb to your own emotions, your tears running down the sides of your face, hands still drawing circles on your daughter’s back. “That’s it,” you whisper.

Alexia hangs up when she hears both of you breathing deeply, slowly, softly; fast asleep.

…

She wipes the sweat from her brow, more exhausted from this than the gym session she had stepped out of.

“What was that about?” Codi asks her curiously, taken in the blush in her captain’s cheeks, the slight dent in her lips from where she has bitten them. “Rather inappropriate to pick up a booty call when we’re this close,” she pinches her fingers together, “to the semis, no?”

“Elena won’t sleep with her either,” Alexia says, if not because she needs to tell someone then because she relishes in the embarrassment that clouds Laia’s face as she hurries to take her comment back.

“I thought you’d overcome it,” Laia replies sadly. “She was sleeping the whole night in her own bed, wasn’t she? That was only two months ago.”

“She can’t deal with it, Codi.” Her sigh is a little more heartbroken than what is fitting for such a communal area, but Alexia does not care that her hunched shoulders have caught Irene’s attention, the defender well-acquainted with the signs of family issues. “She can’t deal with the back-and-forth. She is only three.”

“It has been a year,” comforts her friend. “Maybe she needs more time to adjust.”

“Laia, you did not hear her. She cried like she was going to die, and I felt like I was going to die with her. You know how Y/n is with… You remember what it was like when Nico was a baby, when he wouldn’t stop crying. We were lucky that Elena didn’t have that, or that the doctors were more vigilant or whatever, but… I was keeping this from her for a reason.”

Alexia doesn’t want to guilt you back to her. There is the slightest possibility that, if you were to know just how much Elena has been struggling while away from you, you would suffer through your heartbreak and pretend everything was fine, just to make her happy. Just to make their lives easier.

But Alexia knows. Alexia knows you wake up every day and relive it again and again. She sees the repulsion in your eyes when you look at her – she saw it through the wine and the pleasure.

She knows you smoke, she knows the rumours about the parties you go to are mostly true. She knows that the album is about her, and that the success didn’t taste sweet because it exploited your heartbreak.

She knows that you don’t feel anything towards Leah Williamson, that you’re only trying to get her attention or fill her place.

Alexia knows all of this, because you are a part of her. She knows how you feel like she knows where her right hand is, and, the worst part about that, is that she knows it is all entirely her fault.

“Irene, where is Mateo?! Alexia needs her little person hugs!” shouts Laia, sympathy hidden by her teasing tone, which Alexia is very grateful for. “Get the nen, and get him now!”

…

The unopened ring box travels with you to Australia.

Spain’s failure to lose has led them to the World Cup Final, and while you are going to support your own country, Elena and Nico are dressed in ALEXIA jerseys, yellow and red stripes painted onto their chubby cheeks.

You had found out, after the Elena incident, that your friends had been lying to Alexia for your peace of mind, or so they claimed.

You don’t know how to tell Alexia that you called Leah before you left for Bali and told her that you couldn’t be with her. Or that Gio and Anya had been meddling, going as far as to calculatedly gift Nico an iPad in preparation for a summer of trying to save you from a broken heart.

So… you send her a heads-up that you’ll be attending the final, wish her luck (but not too much, for the sake of the Lionesses), and ensure the children are down for naps so that they have energy to party late into the night regardless of the outcome.

As a desperate, short-term solution while separate from Alexia, you had your manager seek out the best paediatrician in Bali and get a reasonable prescription for melatonin, just so that Elena can sleep. You plan to let Alexia focus on her tournament and bring up the issue when preseason starts, aware that drugging the child to sleep is definitely not the best option.

With another hour of sleep in their systems, you have time to re-pack your suitcases, ready to leave the next day.

And you are reminded of your unopened gift.

Alexia had said to open it when you were home, but you reason that home is with your children, and home, due to your career, is often also in the hotel suites in foreign countries.

You root through the piles of neatly-folded clothes, searching for the box you had buried at the bottom. Its velvet edges are soft under the wrapping paper and the box is sitting in the palm of your hand, naked now, before you realise what you are doing.

The lid flicks open, and you prepare yourself to see something shiny, some insanely expensive diamond that certainly won’t fix all that she has done.

But you brace for nothing, for inside the box lies only a slip of paper.

A boarding pass from London Stansted to Barcelona-El Prat Airport, decorated in aged, black ink.

Scrawled on top of the flight details is something much more valuable than the entrance into First Class the paper allows.

Eleven digits.

Your old phone number.

You remember this.

It was the night you first kissed Alexia, or, rather, she kissed you. You’d been at some FC Barcelona event, and you’d gone outside because you had realised it might not have been acceptable for Alexia to hit on you in front of all those people, no matter how much she had wanted to.

You’d smoked to get her attention, to get her to tell you off. To start a conversation. And you had loved her from the minute she kissed you, so tentative, so unsure.

The boarding pass is sentimental, and you are amazed at the condition it is in, or even the fact that she still has it.

You drop the box, plucking the paper from the slit it had been situated in, unfolding it, examining it with tears in your eyes.

You turn it over in your palm, re-acquainting yourself with your memories from that evening.

And you notice fresh, blue ink written on the back of the boarding pass.

It’s Alexia’s handwriting, this time, though neater than usual, having clearly taken care to form her letters correctly.

Can we start again? it says.

There is a drawing of three stick women, short dresses, high ponytails, too. One is circled, an arrow leaping out of the wobbly shape. That one is labelled with your name, and, underneath, ‘esta es mi favorita y me casaré con ella algún día’.

Marta once told you, at the expense of her club captain, that that had been Alexia’s only comment about you back when they were all obsessed with your break-out girl group and could never talk about anything else.

Twenty-nine-year-old Alexia Putellas knows that her mistakes have lost her many battles, but twenty-nine-year-old Alexia Putellas also knows that her love will win her the war. Because there you are, and nothing is worth fighting for more than you.

(to get back to the main post)

#fc barcelona #woso imagines #barca femeni #leah williamson x reader #woso x reader #woso #randombush3 #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas

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lizzieisright · 10 months

Text

At least I got you in my head (8) (end)

(7)

Summary: Abby is straight. And then you move in with her.

Tags: modern au, fem!reader, straight!abby (she is doing some comphet bullshit), pining, idiot in love and it's abby, reader is gay and tired.

Notes: finally, you both figure your shit out.

Taglist: @abbyily @lillysbigwilly @gravygranules @blairfox04 @frogtits1 @ccinnamongrl @ninazenuk @urmomsgirlfriend1 @sunkissedbibi @couchgarbage @nil-eena @inlovewithelliewilliams @st4rluvrr @mai5mai @machetegirl109 @azelmawrites @rhae-blackqueen @vea-vea-vea @mnim58e @chubeline @strgrlxox @chrry1ovr @littletinyladybugs @shaemonyou @luvrmunson @saffronssapphic @zootedhoe @2012wannabe @elcantsleep

Thank you guys for reading this story and enjoying it! I was very excited when I wrote this chapter and I hope you'd like it too. For some reason Electric love by Børns was playing in my head the whole time as I wrote the reunion part. And the last lines are reference to the Sleepover by Hayley Kiyoko.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

Abby spent her Sunday thinking and thinking and thinking. Even if she wanted to stop she just couldn't, spiralling into the rabbit hole of "does she like me? Do I like her? No, she doesn't like me. I do like her." on repeat. It was still hard to wrap her head around it - in two days her whole perception of herself just turned upside down. And it was good - it always feels good to get rid of this amount of guilt and shame - but it also left Abby in front of metaphorical crossroads and the obvious “what’s next?”.

Abby jumped from being so sure in her feelings to backtracking into “I just figured out my sexuality I need more time”, which was well, true - she did need more time to just..let the knowledge settle.

But you still weren’t home, and her thoughts were too focused on you. Yes, Abby just figured everything out, but the dam that kept her feelings unnoticed broke and now Abby felt everything. The itch she had in her hands before because she wanted to touch you? It was constant now. The desire to call you and just talk? Relentless. She never felt this way about anyone - which was understandable, it’s hard to fall in love with people you’d better be friends with - and the intensity of her feelings was scaring her at times.

Abby spent the first half of Sunday moping around while Ellie provided her silent emotional support and just played games with Abby to keep her occupied. But now and then she’d drift back into her spiralling.

“Abs, until you talk to her all your thoughts have some probability of happening. And it means you’re wasting time, okay? You need to chill.”

“Ellie. Two days ago I learned I’m gay and yesterday I realised I like my roommate. What chill are you talking about?”

“Okay, yeah, my bad. But this spin cycle won’t give any kind of results. Reflect all you want or whatever, but until you talk to her you won’t have an answer.”

“I’m not even sure I want one.”

“You want one, dude. Believe me.” Ellie said somehow menacingly, and Abby didn’t argue.

After Ellie left Abby tried to pick her thoughts apart again, but there was nothing new in her poor brain. Abby felt tired and not lost, but definitely in a dead end. So she decided to use one of her favourite coping mechanisms and hit the gym. The gym always helped, especially with emotions - Abby could box if she was angry or do compounds to concentrate on her form instead of her thoughts, she could stretch just to torture herself and concentrate on physical pain.

Abby packed her bag and went to the gym, hoping for some kind of relief and honestly? A fucking break. She was extremely tired of constant anxiety that changed to sweet memories of you and then changed back to anxiety. Abby wasn’t used to this, so it was taking a huge toll on her - a toll big enough to gain courage to tell you everything. Ellie was right - she needed an answer if she preferred to stay fucking sane.

And the gym helped. Abby did her safest routine, worried she’d get stuck in her head and hurt herself if she did something different, and while Abby was counting reps and measuring time for the rest period, she didn’t think of you. Her only concern was her form and the mental maths of how much weights she needed to place, how to breathe properly and how to place her feet correctly for the squats.

But the moment Abby left the gym, her thoughts were back. Maybe you already came back home? All your books for tomorrow were at home, you needed them, right? Did you have spare clothes at Cait’s? (where else you’d be? At Vi’s? Abby didn’t even want to entertain the idea, and really, it didn’t seem like you) Abby wasn’t sure if texting you would be a right move right now - she needed space and you probably needed it too. But fuck she missed you.

Abby checked her phone in case there are any messages from you, any messages, even if you'd call her a bitch or something. Just. Any indication you were still in her life.

But no. There was nothing, and the apartment was silent and empty when Abby came back.

Monday went over Abby's head, she couldn't concentrate on her classes which was very surprising: she could go with no sleep and still be present during lessons, but today all she could think about was you. The guilt and shame mixed with excitement and hope and it was driving her insane, being pulled apart by polar emotions like that. Now all these stupid stories from how painful it was to be in love finally made sense to Abby - before you she was never really in love with anybody, but now? Now all these tears and desperation and grand gestures made sense. Coming back to exes? Made sense, because she’d crawl back to you without a question. Forgiving anything? Made sense too.

Fuck, people were really right when they said how powerful love was and what things it made them do for it. And even if it was painful and confusing, Abby felt happy about it, as if her unbearable feelings were a proof of her own humanity. A lot of people before told her she was cold and heartless - Ellie joked about it a lot when Abby didn’t hesitate to tell someone who liked her to fuck off - and sometimes it got to her. Now though? Feeling the sharpest needle going through her heart when she thought of you telling her to fuck off? This pain made Abby feel alive.

Later at practice Abby saw Vi - they didn’t train with each other, different weights, but the days were the same - and Abby expected Vi to be angry at her, but not only Vi wasn’t angry, she actually looked at her sympathetically, as if she knew what was happening in Abby's soul. The guilt and shame were back - yes, Abby was still jealous and yes she still wanted to break every knuckle on Vi’s hands for touching you - but she was self-aware enough to understand that Vi wasn’t a part of this. It wasn’t Vi’s fault that Abby had issues.

And the thing was - Vi was actually fucking nice. Abby didn’t talk to her a lot, but she knew Vi’s story and she admired how hard-working she was and how she stayed herself after all the shit she’s been through. Ellie called her cool, and Ellie didn’t call anyone cool, so Abby felt like she fucked up here too.

But the stakes weren't that high - it wasn't like they were friends in the first place - so Abby decided to make amends. She braced herself for the uncomfortable conversation and went over to Vi's locker when they were changing.

"Hey." Vi looked at her, surprised, but she didn't seem hostile, so Abby continued. "I wanted to say sorry for the other day. I was an asshole for no reason."

"Don't stress." Vi smiled. "I wasn't offended."

"Yeah well. I still said some shit. Sorry again."

"It's okay." Vi seemed to hesitate before speaking next. "(Y/n) was really upset."

"Yeah. I know." Abby nodded, trying to conceal her hurt.

"Do you plan on talking to her?" Vi asked carefully again as she put her shirt on.

"Yes."

"Cool."

It seemed like the conversation was over and Abby went back to her locker, taking her bag out and putting her sweaty uniform inside. She felt relieved after that - if this went well, maybe it will go well with you too. Vi put her things in her bag and walked to the exit while Abby was still changing, deep in her thoughts.

"Have you figured it out yet? Why you got so angry?" Vi asked cautiously, stopping right before leaving.

Abby froze, surprised, as she stared at her t-shirt.

"Was it really that obvious?"

Vi shrugged.

"Kinda. You know, the spidey sense. It's not about your looks, it's just… you can tell."

"Gay aura." Abby smirked, remembering Ellie’s words.

"Gay aura." Vi chuckled. "Good luck, Abby."

"Thanks."

And her words were genuine.

You were still pretty shaken up after the fight - not because of the fight itself or Abby’s words, but because it felt like you were hit with reality in a way that broke your stupid rose coloured glasses. And for some reason it was hard to come to terms with the fact that you overestimated yourself: how you acted based on your emotions instead of using your fucking brain - which is understandable, people lose their brains when they’re in love - and the result was the same. You weren’t planning on confessing at all, instead trying to get over Abby, and it led to the same outcome - you two weren’t talking.

You kept thinking about if you made the right choice by never bringing up the “maybe you’re not so straight” topic with Abby - maybe you should have? Just very carefully? Just nudge her in the right direction? Was it too late to do that now?

Huh, what a fun conversation it could be “hey, maybe you were so angry at me not because I made you uncomfortable in your own home but because you’re gay and jealous?” (which was in fact Cait's entire point about this fight). Even if this would go well, Abby being gay didn’t equal Abby being gay for you.

God, what if Abby would start bringing girls over once she would be out? “Thanks (y/n) for helping me figure out my sexuality, now I’m going to fuck every gay girl on campus because I’m hot as fuck and they all drool over me”. Fuck.

At this point it was hard to differentiate between your rational thoughts and irrational thoughts: where did your concerns end and overthinking started? You felt confused and all over the place, and even though you knew the only way to fix it was to come home and face Abby, you were too much of a coward to do it.

Obviously you'd say you were sorry. And you would stop bringing girls over because she was uncomfortable with it and you weren't an asshole. But you felt like this talk would be only the cover of the real problem - this situation happened not because you were selfish (not entirely), but because you wanted to get over Abby as fast as possible. For some reason you felt like you had to tell Abby you were in love with her - otherwise you had a feeling you were taking advantage of her with the amount of touch and care that was between you. For you these hugs and cuddles and small kisses on your cheeks weren't platonic or friendly, and now when you finally admitted your defeat, you couldn't pretend it was something else.

So you had two choices: tell Abby you were in love with her and let her decide how to change her boundaries or distance yourself from her as far as possible. And if you were younger you'd probably choose the second option - it was way easier than being honest and getting rejected. But this way you'd lose her as a friend and leave both of you with hurt and anger towards each other. And Abby would probably call you out on this and you'd have to tell her what was wrong with you anyway.

So your only option was to confess and face whatever would come out of it. And it was scary.

That was the reason why instead of going home on Monday you still came back to Cait - you couldn't lie to Abby but you couldn't tell her the truth either, so, as one of the cartoon characters said, there was a third option: doing nothing. And you chose it.

Caitlyn wasn't happy with your choice, staring you down as you took your shoes off.

"You're running away from your problems."

"I'm doing nothing about my problems. There's a difference." You sighed tiredly and put your coat on the clothing rack.

Cait stared you down, frowning, but you didn’t have energy to argue with her, so you went straight for the shower. It didn’t help much with your thoughts, but the weight of your anxiety got smaller.

from: Vi

Abby just apologised to me

You stared at your phone as your feelings flooded your chest - Abby was stubborn but she was good. She was doing what was right, she fucking apologised to Vi, and here you were, too scared to face her. If Abby said sorry she felt guilty, and it meant she was hurting while you were hiding from her. You could wallow in misery all you wanted, but the thought that you were dragging Abby down with you made you feel sick. You loved her too much to let your fears hurt her.

to: Vi

How is she?

from: Vi

She got hit in the face

Three times

shitty

The guilt washed over you. For Abby to be this unfocused? It meant she was really worried and upset, and you needed to stop it. Fuck it if you couldn’t confess yet, but you needed to resolve this situation and stop indirectly torturing Abby.

to: Vi

Can we reschedule our lesson tomorrow?

from: Vi

Yeah no problem

You locked your phone and went over to Caitlyn, who was reading.

“I’m going home tomorrow.”

“Thank god.” Caitlyn rolled her eyes.

“She apologised to Vi.”

“Amazing.”

“By the way, can I give Vi your number?”

Caitlyn stopped reading and you noticed her pink blush. It was faint, but after years of friendship you knew what it was - you weren’t surprised, Vi was hot and Caitlyn thought she was smart, so of course your question got a reaction out of her.

“Aren’t you two involved?”

“We’re friends. If it’s a no it’s okay. I can totally see why it’d bother you.”

“It doesn’t bother me. I’m not an idiot, I’ve noticed how she looked at me.” Caitlyn was creepily observant and awfully honest. Thank god she didn’t embarrass Vi right then and there, because Cait was unhinged like that. “Give me her number, I’ll text her myself.”

“Cait, you’re terrifying.” You said honestly. “She is sweet, don’t hurt her.”

Caitlyn stared at you like you were an idiot and you just silently showed her Vi’s number so she could copy it.

Three days. It’s been three days since the fight and Abby was exhausted. She couldn’t even sleep, creeped out by the silence in your apartment, twisting and turning the whole night, and if she fell asleep she dreamt of you - either the fight played out differently (you didn’t leave and Abby confessed) or it was 100 and 1 scenario of your reunion.

But then Abby woke up and you weren’t there. She hated how quiet the place was.

At least Abby could concentrate during her classes, even though she opened her dms every 10 minutes trying to gain courage to text you. Why was it this hard? By the end of the day she chickened out and decided to text you if you wouldn’t be home today too. And for some reason Abby was sure you wouldn’t be home when she’d come from classes today. It seemed like you were still pretty mad at her - oh, that was why she was too afraid to text you. Abby - now calmed down, guilty Abby - was not prepared for your wrath if it was still there. And she’d prefer to have it fall on her in person than over a stupid text.

Abby opened the door to your apartment and froze right in the doorway. She could hear the TV from the living room, she saw the lights faintly lightning the hallway and fuck, there were your shoes.

You were home.

Abby took her shoes and her coat off in record time and stormed to the living room. You were sitting on the couch, your legs under you, and you smiled at her sheepishly, as if you weren’t sure that Abby’d be happy to see you. Abby took a deep breath as her heartbeat went absolutely crazy.

“You’re home.” Abby sighed, still so shocked she thought she was dreaming again, her bag falling from her shoulder to the floor with a thud.

“Hi.” You said in a small voice and Abby couldn’t take anymore - you were there and you were smiling at her and she missed you so fucking much.

Abby almost ran to you, scooping you in her arms as you yelped in surprise - fucking hell Abby was strong to pull you up like that.

“You’re home.” Abby murmured into your neck, breathing you in, the same spice and mint as always. You hugged her shoulders and breathed her in too - you missed her crazy. Abby was solid against you and her hand on the small of your back kept you pressed into her as if she was afraid you’d disappear. You clung to her, as you became aware how much you missed her warmth - how did you survive these three days without Abby?

“I’m sorry, I was so selfish.” You told Abby while she pressed you flush against her.

“God, I’m so sorry too, I didn’t mean a word of what I’ve said to you.” Abby said into your hair, her voice soft and quiet and full of remorse. You hummed, comforted by her arms around you, her blonde hair tickling your nose. Abby smelt like home, like someone who would protect you from anything and whatever she said to you on Saturday didn’t matter anymore.

Abby inhaled your scent and closed her eyes, basking in you. She physically couldn't let you go now when she's got you, knowing now why it felt so good to hold you and not being ashamed or anxious about it. Fuck. To hell with it, Abby's never been a coward.

"I figured my shit out." Abby's voice was steady, but her heart sounded like drums in her ears.

"What do you mean?" And your heart was not any better.

"You told me to figure my shit out. I did. I wasn't angry because you were disturbing me or something." Abby pressed you even closer, grounding herself in your presence. "I was jealous."

It was suddenly hard to breathe and you froze in Abby's arms. Did she mean what you thought she meant? God, please, let it be what you so desperately wanted it to be.

Abby moved away a little so she could look at you, because if Abby would get her heart broken now she at least could get it broken looking into your eyes.

"I like you." Abby breathed out and the wave of painful relief hit her. It was good to let it out, as if someone cut open an aching injury and yeah, she was bleeding, but it felt better.

Your brain fully shut down as your ears rang from her words - was it even real? Was it your Abby or another dream? But it was real, and Abby was looking at you, she was waiting for an answer and your own confession ripped out from your chest before you could stop yourself.

"I like you too." You felt your face heat up for some reason, but the way Abby’s eyes lit up made it all worth it.

Abby's eyes grew wide with surprise just before all her restraints crumbled. She took your face in her hands and did what she was literally dreaming about the past few nights - she kissed you. And everything exploded.

Your hands flew to Abby's face and you kissed her back desperately, pressing into her with all you had. Abby locked her arms around your waist so hard your back arched, she needed you close as badly as you needed her.

Abby never felt like this, like every move of your lips on hers set her alight and the hunger she never had before was suddenly making her greedy and desperate to touch you. As if under a spell, Abby pushed you to the couch until you hit it with the back of your knees and sat down so Abby could press you into the seat as you opened your mouth and let her tongue slip inside, making you both groan. Abby felt high from kissing you, the way you were all soft and gentle under her, but not delicate at all, she wasn’t afraid to hurt you because you were real and solid and your fingers on her neck were warm.

And it wasn't enough for Abby, she needed more, she needed to touch your bare skin - so she pushed her hand under your hoodie, kneading your side. You were warm and soft and your scent was all around her, and it was still not enough. She wanted to hear you make the same noise that you made that night for someone else - she wanted you to sigh and whimper and moan for her, she wanted to-

You pressed on her shoulders and Abby backed off, confused.

"We need to slow down." You panted, looking into Abby’s shiny eyes. She was blushing and panting as well, her hand was still on your naked waist, riding up your hoodie enough for her to see your lower stomach. Abby’s eyes went dark as she flicked her eyes from your face to your stomach and back.

"Yeah."

You both didn't move, staring at each other. Abby didn’t want to stop, she wanted to kiss you and touch you and if someone would move away first it would definitely not be her. And then you kissed Abby again, bringing her as close as possible, giving up on any rational thought in your head. You were weak, so when Abby pushed you down on the couch you happily spread your legs for her, getting wet in your pants from how delicious it felt to be opened like that. Abby’s hands roamed across your sides and your hips, groping and kneading your body as if she couldn’t get enough - and she truly couldn’t, appreciating every soft fold she made, every hard ridge digging into her palm. You sighed into her mouth and Abby just needed to press you down into this couch, moving one of her hands to caress your thigh and pull you closer. You felt dizzy, high on Abby's confident, hungry touch, the perfect balance of gentle and rough, so deliciously Abby. No one could touch you like that, like you were hers, your body and your soul, without a hesitation. Abby took what she wanted and you drank it all up.

Abby kissed your jaw and moved down to your neck, leaving an open mouthed kiss just below your ear and you let out a surprised sigh - and Abby’s brain fucking melted. She left more kisses, all shamelessly open, her hot tongue brushing over your skin just to hear you sigh like that. Abby pushed your thighs up so you could close them around her waist and slipped her hand back under your hoodie, getting dangerously close to your tits. That broke the spell on you, bringing you back to reality.

“Abby, wait.” You asked, not comfortable with how fast it was going. Abby looked up to you, waiting for what you wanted to tell her. “We really need to chill.” You caressed her cheek, taking a deep breath to calm yourself down.

Abby wanted to protest, but the horny fog started leaving her head and she understood how overboard she went just now, jumping you like this the moment you reciprocated her feelings. It was too fast.

“Yeah, you’re right.” Abby chuckled and tried to move away, but you didn’t let her, pressing her back to you.

“Just.. lie down.”

Abby listened to you, her hands still under your hoodie, but now she was just caressing your sides gently with her thumbs, sending goosebumps.

“I’ve missed you so much.” You told her as you stroke her hair.

“I’ve missed you too. The worst three days of my life.”

You laughed quietly.

“How did you figure it out?” You asked, curious. Abby sighed, but you waited.

“Oh man, this is embarrassing. I thought I was homophobic, because I hated that you were bringing girls over. Talked to Ellie, figured out I was homophobic to myself.” Abby laughed, and even though you could see the comedy in her words, you couldn't imagine what she had to go through.

“This is such a mind-fuckery.” You said sympathetically. “It must’ve felt so good to realise that.”

“It was. And then I saw you with Vi and what happened happened.”

“Oh god this is fast. Like, did you even have the time to properly process that?”

“Three days with myself would do.” Abby chuckled and you felt the guilt poking your heart.

“Sorry. I felt like I couldn’t just say sorry and move on without telling you about my feelings. But I was scared.” You admitted and Abby hummed, seeing your point. It must've been more scary for you as you knew what was happening in your head and the time turned your fear into full blown terror.

"How long have you known?"

"That I like you? Pretty much from the beginning, but I tried really hard to stop it."

Abby laughed and you tilted your head to look at her, not understanding what was so funny.

"Remember when we hung out for the first time? When we watched that horror movie that offended you so much?"

"Yeah?"

"I was very confused why you were so far away from me. I was already into you by that point."

"I can't imagine what kind of mental somersaults you had to do to keep it hidden from yourself." You sighed and hugged her harder. “I’m very happy you’re free of the straight curse.”

Abby snorted and looked up to you, just staring, unashamed - everything about you was perfect.

“You’re so pretty.” God it felt good to say it freely, say it without shame, without broken syllables and mumbling.

You smiled and looked away, flustered, and Abby watched you with fascination - she’s never seen you like this.

“Thanks.” You tried to stop smiling but you couldn’t, and Abby’s curious and teasing gaze just made you smile more. “No, stop it.” You said, playfully stern.

“Nah, I’ll do it even more now. Seeing you crumble like this is even better than kicking your ass in Mortal Kombat.”

“Oh yeah? I still cook your food.” You threatened.

Before Abby could answer her stomach rumbled and you laughed.

“Let’s go eat.”

And everything was back to normal, but it also wasn’t. You chatted, catching up on these days you spent apart, telling each other the last gossip and complaining about classes - that was normal. But now Abby could hug you from behind and steal a kiss, her high making her bold, and you could abandon whatever you had on the stove and wrap your arms around her neck, kissing her back. Because now you didn’t have to hide from each other, second-guessing motives and actions. Now when you ate and talked you could hold hands and smile bashfully at each other, and the teasing could end in millions of short kisses. You finally let yourself hug Abby from behind while she washed the dishes and tell her what was happening with Caitlyn and Vi.

Later you did your usual cuddle time, and Abby held you in her arms exactly like she wanted to. A few months ago you both sat on that couch - awkward and distant, too afraid of each other - to watch a movie, and now you were lying on it, kissing and cuddling, basking in each other as you gently and innocently explored what was an unattainable dream before, caressing sides and hips and ribs without heat but with a desire to get to know.

Abby swore she started to believe in magic when you touched her.

to: els

(the photo of you and Abby, Abby kissing the top of your head while you lie on top of her with the dopiest, lovesick grin on your face)

from: els

FUCK YEAH

you lucky bitch

You laughed when Abby showed you Ellie's texts and nuzzled into Abby's chest.

"Let's do a sleepover today." Abby said as she kissed your temple.

"Where?"

"In my bed."

#abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x you #abby anderson #abby tlou #aligyinmh

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bisexual-horror-fan · 4 months

Note

Hear me out!

Sam’s killer side is more dormant and her bloodlust is out of control and she’s feeling the overwhelming need to kill someone. By this point, she’d stopped trying to fight it. Reader is a friend/girlfriend who knows enough about Sam and her urges to offer her a substitute; letting her fuck you stupid. As kinky as you can think of with sprinkles of blood play, knife play, heavy degradation and praise. Sam 100% has a strap, she just does and loooooves to make her choke on it. You didn’t really believe Sam would hurt anyone and you’d never seen her kill anybody first hand before but by the time she was finished with you, you knew that she was far more than capable and the thought of that was nothing short of a turn on.

Oh, Anon. You were the first person to submit for the Ghostface Sam fic prompts, and you nailed it in one. So here we are! My first Sam Carpenter fic! And the first fic of the new year! Let's get into it, I hope this is dirty enough for you!

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Rating. Explicit. Length. 3.8K. Ghostface! Sam Carpenter X FEM! AFAB! Reader. She/Her Pronouns. Warnings: Blood. Mentions Of Murder. Begging. Oral Sex. Cunnilingus. Face Sitting. Cum Eating. Strap On Sex. Spanking. Knife Play. Blood Play. Knife Used As A Makeshift Sex Toy. Multiple Orgasms. Squirting. Praise. Degradation. Dirty Talk. Rough Sex. Sam Is Mean. You Love It. Edging. Mild Orgasm Denial. Asking For Permission.

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"Make It Hurt."

---

The itch is becoming completely unbearable. How is she meant to cope with this? Nothing is able to keep her mind off the intense want to maim and destroy.

She should be happy. Her last spree went so well, she got away scott-fucking-free, everyone views her as the helpless survivor of an attack when in reality she did it and framed the real victims. It’s been months, far too long, and she is feeling the urges bubbling up inside of her once again. She can’t go around killing without some sort of plan, it’s just asking to get caught and if she ends up in jail then she’ll never get to again. A complete nightmare, and one she wants to do everything possible to prevent.

It is to the point she is having trouble sleeping. Other hobbies are dull and lifeless, she has low motivation, food is bland, her mind is just consumed with thoughts of running through warm bodies with cold steel, of slicing, cutting, draining every single last drop of blood from a person. She needs to plan appropriately so she can hopefully satisfy her bloodlust, but she’s waited too long, the planning stage isn’t working as it normally is, it’s not fun, it’s frustrating her even further. She doesn’t want to plot, she just wants satisfaction now, she wants to feel the hot spray of blood hitting her face, soaking into her clothes, she isn’t able to pull the creative resources she needs from herself to do what the job would require, the well is dry.

You wake up to find her side of the bed empty and long gone cold, rolling over your check your phone, it’s past 3 AM. You groan and sit up, why isn’t she in bed? Furthermore, you’d insisted she get some sleep with you tonight, she’d been up late a lot this week, and you could see how restless and antsy she was getting, irritable and unable to keep her mood even. You get out of bed, pausing to get your robe off the hook on the back of the door, you pull it on and tie up the belt at your waist as you leave to go find her.

Sam is unable to sleep, she’s in the living room in the dark, a favoured gore fest of a horror movie on the TV and her favourite knife in her hand. She has her feet up, one hand is playing with a lock of her hair curling it around her finger, winding and unwinding it over and over, the opposite hand occupied with flipping the knife, a casual but impressive trick, the flick of her wrist practised, natural, complete muscle memory. She is still dressed in what she wore to bed, braless in the well fitting and tight white t-shirt, cotton dove grey shorts that creep high up her thighs. You lean against the wall and watch her for a moment.

You know what this is, you can see it in her body language, the tension is radiating off of her. She is unfulfilled, she is craving to hurt, she wants to kill, enact things she is watching on the screen, the desire to spill blood is overtaking her. She is smart, calculating, she knows that now is not the right time, but that doesn’t change the frustration she feels. You wish she could do what she really wanted to, but you know just as well as her it’s a bad fucking idea.

You knock quietly on the wall, and it makes her react immediately, sitting up, even more tense, she stops flipping the knife, gripping the handle, her head turns and upon seeing you she relaxes slightly. She slumps back into her original position, still holding the knife, she says quietly, “Hey.”

You walk over, returning her greeting, “Hey yourself.” Taking the seat next to her, you look over to her, a hand rests on her thigh, and you ask, “You okay?”

“Can’t sleep.” She sighs, and you laugh lightly, your hand squeezes her thigh, “Yeah, I can see that.”

“Sorry, I know you hate waking up alone I just, I couldn’t keep lying in bed awake-” Her dark brown eyes meet your gaze, and you lean closer, shushing her, “Stop that, you’ve got a lot on your mind right now clearly, stop worrying so much about me.”

You are much more concerned about her than yourself, you adjust, one knee on the couch, you lean over further, one hand still firmly on her thigh and the other on the backrest of the couch. “I know what’s up with you-”

A dip of your head, your lips brush hers, a small peck before you pull back, continuing your thought, “-all pent-up, like you are locked in a cage, unable to do what you really want.”

She leans up, steals a kiss, and you indulge her momentarily before breaking it again, “We both know you can’t, not till you relieve some of this stress, so…”

Your hand leaves her thigh, fingers curl around her wrist and pulling up her hand, you have her slip her fingers through the opening of your robe over your chest, let her get a handful of you, arching closer into her touch you offer yourself up, “Take it all out on me.”

Her breath hitches, she doesn’t pull away, in fact her touch gets bolder, greedier, feeling you up, your lips barely an inch apart as she responds, “Baby, I can’t do that, I’ll hurt you-”

“I want you to hurt me. You need to draw blood to feel better? Why not mine?” Your hand is off her wrist, instead it latches onto her hand, the one holding the knife. Your head moves, gives some more breathing room, you hold the blade to your own thigh, exposed between the folds of your robe, the one you are kneeling on. You press, drag the unyielding silver over flesh, and you gasp from the jolt of pain, both of you watch as the skin splits and crimson begins to drip. Her resolve is splintering, you whimper out, “Please Sam?”

Those two words, that plea, begging, unlocks something in her. Makes some part of her snap, the last vestiges of self-control are abandoned in short order.

She practically drags you back to the bedroom.

You think at first she is going to have you on the bed, toss you onto the comforter and plush sheets, no that is apparently too good for you when she is in the mood, and you know that because she tells you as much. She pushes you down onto the dark hardwood floor, your eyes are questioning, which leads her to tell you, “C’mon sweetheart, you told me you wanted it to hurt, and I’m going to give you just what you asked for.”

She’s standing over you, passing the knife from hand to hand, sadistic smile playing on her lips and as she stares down at you, her look tattles on her thoughts, she's considering what to do with you, playing around mentally with just what she wants to do to you first. You watch as she starts to take her shorts off, knife still in one hand, she drops the fabric onto the floor and then next she is removing that all lace black panties she had on underneath, and you are already salivating at the view of her.

Your eyes are locked between her legs, you love every single part of her, but you’d be a filthy fucking liar if you couldn’t be honest about how much you adored her bare like this. You roam, from the well maintained patch of black hair to her prominent clitoral hood and the plump lips you could suck and toy with for hours.

You get your wish, she knows you well and what you are craving. She moves, standing over you and then lowers herself down, her knees on either side of your head as she straddles your face. Hands move on instinct, you reach up and grip her hips, moaning against her as soon as the flavour of her hits your tongue. Swiping up through her folds, getting a better taste before passing over her clit, you hum indulgently and repeat the motion. Over and over, taking care to spend more time focusing on that most sensitive part of her. She is moving her hips, grinding herself down on your lips and tongue, with a deep moan, “Fuck, you are the best little cunt eater around.”

You preen under her praise, it makes you work harder to please her, sucking deeply, eyes falling closed with another hum that makes her body buck on top of you. She is loving this, riding your pretty face, and you love it too, the taste of her, getting her wetter and wetter, listening to her moans and feeling her thighs clenching around your head. It is bliss, it is your purpose, to be used for her pleasure and enjoyment, nothing is better.

She reaches back and her fingers press on the cut on your thigh, the blood had slowed significantly and the rush of pain makes you moan louder against her. “What a pain slut you are. I bet if it touched you that you’d be fucking soaked.”

You know that to be true, your thighs rub together, and you feel the wetness staining them, you want some attention for yourself, but you want to keep pleasing her much, much more. You forget your own leaking cunt and choose to continue focusing on her instead.

She rolls her body again, her wetness is all over your face, it had started to run down your chin, you feel it on your neck. Your fingers squeeze her hips, and you continue to eat her out, you knew you were affecting her, her dirty talk is becoming more fractured, moaning much more. “God yeah-ugh-there you go, jus-just like that, ohhh, suck that fucking clit like you mean it.”

Her body starts to react in that way that you know all too well, tensing, breath coming in shorter gasps. She hadn’t even been riding your face for that long, but you were exceptionally skilled at this, had more than enough practice and knew how to get her off quickly, adept at giving her powerful orgasms with nothing more than your mouth. Knowing much better than to stop now, you keep going, unrelenting, feverish, you continue your current action, having pulled her clit into your mouth, tongue flicking over it while it is encased in the wet heat of you and in less than a minute more you are rewarded with her cumming on your face. You never grew tired of this, of her shuddering on top of you through her release, the minute movements as she wrung out every bit of sensation she could, the near guttural moan of your name that would pass through her lips.

It made you leak more, clench around nothing, long to feel the same.

Her body becomes still, but her breathing is still erratic, she raises up on her knees a little to give you some breathing room. You are staring up at her, you watch with rapt interest as she removes her shirt and tosses it, leaving her totally naked still on top of you. She is looking back down at you, a half smile playing on her features, one that is dangerous. She sets the knife down on the floor, and you know better than to even think about going for it. After a moment more to recover, she is getting up, ordering you firmly to, “Stay.”

You do as you are told. Laying there on the floor as you watch her move, she steps over you and out of your line of sight, you don’t even dare to turn your head to follow where she goes. You hear the opening of some drawers, you know what she is after. You hear her speak from somewhere behind you, “Strip.”

Hands scramble, rushing to comply, you take your robe off and toss it into the far corner of the room, leaving you totally bare. Sam insists you sleep naked, much prefers having you open and exposed, something you do not mind at all and do for her willingly. The floor feels hard and cool against your back, you have no real time to rest, you hear her footsteps coming close again and then there are fingers in your hair, they twine and twist, she pulls, tugging hard, “On your knees' whore, now”

You suck in a harsh inhale through your teeth, the sharp stab of pain radiating down the base of your skull, and you do as asked, getting up onto your knees, her firm hand guiding you. She’s back in your field of vision now, and she’s gotten her favourite toy to use with you, her strapless strap on.

It is dark purple and looks striking, totally stunning against her skin, it’s long and thick as it sits heavy between her legs, jutting outwards, it’s ribbed and whenever she has you it fills you up beautifully, hits all the best spots. In short, it makes you into a totally blissed out well fucked mess whenever she fucks you with it. With no straps, the way it is secured is with a curved and rather bulbous end that she inserts into herself, gives her something to clench on and when she gets into a good rhythm with fucking you it presses over and over into her g-spot. Further still, the toy contours and curves with her body, a textured pad right behind the shaft that pushes against her clit, giving her a completely perfect way to stimulate herself with ease while she is fucking you, every thrust in and pull out, hitting her both externally and internally.

You knew this next part very well. You needed to prep her strap for you to take it, you were soaked, totally dripping, but with how rough she was every bit helped. She pulls you near, and you move willingly, mouth opens, and with her other hand on the base of the toy she guides it between your lips. Cool silicone passes over your tongue as you close around it, you bob your head down, taking about half of the toy before pulling back, keeping just the tip between your lips. You loved when she made you blow her, she keeps pulling on your hair, guiding you, making you slide up and down her shaft, coating it in spit as you suck it. “You are so perfect, you know that? Just as cock hungry, right?”

You nod, eyes looking up at her as you work, focusing on blowing her and putting on a good show, but more than that too, when she makes you take it deeper? A hand on the back of your head, forcing you to take it as deep as you could, you choke and gag, when it hits the back of your throat she moans, you know this part feels the best. Whenever the tip of that dildo hits on something more solid, it provides a delectable jolt of pleasure for her. Both her hands are in your hair too, tugging and pulling, leading you to suck, drool is running down, drops landing on your own chest as she picks up the pace, moving her hips, fucking your face.

You gag so hard you start to tear up, “Pretty, pretty girl, you look best with tears all over that face.” You loved how she spoke to you, the mix she strikes of praise and degradation, of warmth and filth, it makes your blood sing.

When you gag again, a bit too hard, that kind of gag that makes your pace falter and the tears finally start to fall she clucks her tongue disapprovingly, “Are you even trying?”

You nod and Sam urges, “Show me then. Prove me wrong.” There is a light slap to your cheek that makes you inhale sharply though your nose and work harder. You want to please her, you do the tricks you know, you try to get a handle on your breathing, you squeeze your thumbs in your fists to help tame your gag reflex, and you push yourself. When she is moaning in that particular pitch, you know you are doing well.

You are doing so well in fact that she pulls the spit soaked shaft from your mouth, and she pushes you down, “Face down ass up.”

Your face is put down right there, into the mess that has collected, drips of spit and her arousal staining the wood, and your cheek is put into it, and you don’t fight it. She gets behind you, a rough slap to your ass that makes you groan, she loves how it sounds so she lays down a few more as she gets on her own knees.

“You are leaking everywhere oh my God-” She laughs, but there is no malice in it, she spanks you again, the pain is slight but strong, burning, you take it just as she wants you to and then all of a sudden hurt gives way to ecstasy. She slid inside of you with no issue, complete ease, because just as she said you are drenched. How could you not be, after all the build up and what she said to you? How she treated you. Her hips are flush with your ass, she is completely inside of you, and she moans, grinding herself against you, and you moan too, after inhaling you finally push out that sound showing how good it felt.

She pulls out halfway before slamming back into you to the hilt, the sensation rockets up your spine, the force of her thrust makes your body move, your cheek drags through the mess it is resting in and you moan. “Awe, you like that?”

You nod weakly, inhaling shakily, and the end breaks off into another choked off sob, “Course you do. You are so nasty, getting fucked face down in a puddle of drool.” She starts an even and steady pace, her hips slamming into yours, the sound of skin on skin filling the space of your shared bedroom.

“Depraved, disgusting-” She changes the angle, brushes that place inside you that makes your nails bite into the wood below you and cry out, “Right there!”

Another hit to your ass so hard that you yelp, she degrades you further, “I know where it is. You are stupidly easy to please, then again, all bitches like you are.”

“Sam, oh my God-” You gasp, and she laughs, “Sam, oh my Godddd-” she taunts, parroting back what you said, letting you really hear how needy and pathetic you are.

“Aren’t you even a little embarrassed?” She asks, and you moan out, “Noo-ooohhhh-”

“Course you aren’t, you’ve got entirely no shame.” She muses, her breathing is picking up as she is slamming into you, knowing she has found a particularly good rhythm that is working for her just as well. You are so consumed with everything she is doing to you that you don’t hear the sound of metal scraping, you don’t register her picking up the knife.

You feel it.

She cuts, desperate to harm and see more blood. The cuts are quick, light, surface level and each one is punctuated with another brutal thrust into you. One over your hip, outer thigh, the curve of your breast, you sob from each cut, hiccuping and wet and moan, deep and long from each hit of the head of her false cock on that swollen spot inside of you. The blood pours, it joins the mess on the floor, she presses her fingers to the wounds, causes more pain, you clench around her, she holds pace, but it gets messier, sloppier, she’s going to cum and you are so fucking close.

You are a pain slut, but the bright bursts of hurt are keeping you on the opposite side of the edge, she can tell, you are struggling, crying, desperate, “Awe, you havin’ trouble cumming baby?”

“Ye-yes!” You whine, she tsk’s, “Need some help?”

“Puh-lease?!” You don’t give a shit how pathetic you sound any longer, all you know is the intense and all consuming need to cum already. You are dripping down your thighs, totally frustrated and keyed up, you feel like if you don’t cum soon you might die, it’s hard to breathe, as if you are drowning, choking on sensation itself.

“Okay, I’ll help you, sweet thing.” You feel her move, her tits press into your back, her arms loop around you, one around your middle, over your waist and the other hand, the one still holding the knife is between your legs. The smooth and rounded end of the knife is dragged over the fresh cut on your thigh, it hurts, you yelp again, she catches the mess of blood, and then it is pressed to you. She used the blood for lube, the end of the knife was being pressed to your straining clit, she moves it in tight circles in time with her thrusts and having both spots abused inside and out has you falling apart in less than ten more thrusts.

You don’t forget yourself, still, before you do tip over, you are good, you ask, “Sa-Sam, close, please? Fuck, fuck, please?!” It spills out in a rushed babble, breathless, she is panting too, and you can tell by the tone of voice in her reply she is near her end too, “Fuck yeah, good girl do it, you’ve earned it-”

That’s more than you need for it to happen. You cum so hard, you make a mess, moaning incoherently and loud enough you are positive you will get a noise complaint, thighs feeling like they will give out, shaking, sweaty, bloody, cunt spasming around her shaft still driving in and out of you as you squirt onto the floor.

She loves when she makes you squirt, she is fucking you through your complete high, the mess is on her too, running down her toy and over her own slit, down her thighs, and it is enough to make her reach her end too. Your name stains her tongue as she peaks and holds deep, she grinds through the aftershocks of your orgasm, your body feels heavy and weak, the only thing holding her up is you. She doesn’t relent, over stimulation starts to set in, and you beg, “Stop, fuck-”

She drops the knife onto the floor, and you breathe a sigh of relief. Her hips have completely stopped, she is just sitting inside of you. Both of you are catching your breath, you ask, “Feeling better?”

“It’s a start.” She hums, and you laugh lightly, eyes falling closed, she slowly pulls out, and you wince slightly, feeling fucked out and sore in the best way, “Don’t get too comfortable, you have to clean me up still.”

You knew she meant not only the end that was just inside you, but the one that was still resting snugly inside of her.

#Ghostface x reader #Sam Carpenter x reader #Slasher x reader #BHF asks #BHF writing #HERE WE ARE #ENJOY THE FILTH #Scream 6 x reader

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throneofsapphics · 5 months

Text

the ebb and flow of fate epilogue

(part one) (part two) (part three) (part four) (part five)

Cazriel x f!Reader

Summary: “Pure silence filled the room, and Feyre shifted on her feet, wondering if maybe she’d crossed a line.”

Warnings: illness, mentions of violence, death, & blood

A/N: I’m sad this is over, but I've really enjoyed writing it. thank you all so much for your love on this little series <3

She took a deep breath, steeling herself for this conversation. “When I die-“

“We don’t know -“ Cassian interrupted.

“Please,” she cut him off. “Just .. I need to say this.”

His mouth tightened, but he nodded.

“Don’t give up. This world still needs both of you,” she swallowed harshly. The tears had already come.

“And it doesn’t need you?” Azriel said, voice breaking half way through.

“The world doesn’t get a choice, with me.”

Cassian ran one hand through his hair, gripping hard enough she thought he might tear it out. “I can’t lose you. Not like this.”

She snorted. Azriel’s eyes narrowed, he didn’t find this amusing, not one bit, but he knew laughter and humor was one of her coping mechanisms.

“Do you think I want to die?”

“I didn’t say -” She held her hand up, and Cassian’s mouth slammed shut. Her mouth quirked up at the corner, well trained. Azriel rolled his eyes. She did hold both of their leashes, but he wouldn’t tell her that.

“It’s happening. I refuse to insult myself or the healers pretending otherwise,” she reached out her hands, palms up, and they each took one without hesitation. “If you want to be angry, do it when I'm dead or not looking. I’m the sick one, you have to listen to me.”

Cassian looked like he was about to disagree, thought better of it, and pulled her into his chest. “We’ll see who’s listening to who tonight,” he muttered, pressing a kiss to the top of her hair.

Pure destruction stood in front of him. A killing field. Some parts scorched, raw power incinerating everything in its path, others still coated with blood and mismatched body parts. There would be no identifying who had fallen.

Rhys would never be glad his cousin died, not in millenia, but he’s glad she didn’t have to see the war waged. She’d died weeks before it broke out, and triggered a deadly rage in both Cassian and Azriel. One the world might never see again.

They never missed starfall.

“You’ll still get to see me once a year.” She waved her hand towards the sky, about to say the most ridiculous love-sick words he’d ever heard, “I’ll be waiting for you, my spirit still traveling between worlds. We’ll find each other in whatever comes after, in the next life, maybe even shoot through time and space together.”

Cassian’s mouth quirked up at one corner, before he picked her up and spun her in circles until she flicked his wing.

Cassian braced his forearms on the railing, eyes fixed on the sky. “Which one do you think is her?” He didn’t need to look to know Az was right beside him. They asked this question every year, and each time came up with a different answer. He liked to think she was switching forms, maybe trying to play a joke on them, or play another game.

Azriel peered down in the Cauldron again, after pulling Amren out. He’d hoped, foolishly, that she might be in there too.

He knew Amren, even spluttering and catching her breath, caught his movement. Azriel tried to avoid her, but she eventually caught up to him and Cassian.

“She wasn’t there,” the sorrowful, almost pitying, look in her eyes pissed him off.

“I didn’t ask,” he said coolly.

“Maybe not,” she assessed him. “But there’s your closure.”

“What … what does it mean, she wasn’t there?” Cassian asked.

“It means her soul isn’t trapped in limbo.”

Azriel really, really didn’t want to speak about this, but Cassian kept going. “So she’s moved on?”

“No,” Amren said sharply. “It means she’s waiting for you idiots,” Amren really never missed the chance to throw an insult in there, “in peace.”

Cassian caught Azriel’s eye. In peace. It was a small comfort, like a bandaid stuck on a gaping wound. He knew she wanted him to move on, to go find his “peace,” but it was never the same without her. An empty space inside of him he couldn’t fill. For years, he avoided every reminder of her, did everything he could to drown out the screaming abyss threatening to tug him under. It took Cassian to pull him out, to knock some sense into him and tell him she’d be pissed off.

“Cassian and Azriel had a mate.” Rhys told her quietly. Feyre paused. The sorrow in his voice threw her off. Had.

“What happened?” She asked softly.

“She died. Y/n was my cousin, Mor’s younger sister.”

A part of her heart shattered. She hadn’t known he had another cousin, or that Mor had a sister. They never spoke of her. Feyre didn’t … she didn’t like that. Not that she hadn’t been told, but that they weren’t keeping her memory alive. Maybe that was unfair of her, all things considered she hadn’t been around them that long, and some wounds never truly heal.

“Will you show me her?” She let Rhys read the silent request in her eyes; I’ll make a portrait. Her mate swallowed, before giving a short nod.

Winter Solstice came, and to say Feyre was nervous would be an understatement. She’d decided to pull Azriel and Cassian aside before, not certain if they’d want a vulnerable moment like this in front of the rest of them.

She handed them two identical portraits, wrapped in soft paper.

Cassian shot her a grin, “Finally take up the offer to paint me in the nude?”

Feyre snorted, huffing out a laugh. “Open it.”

They both did. Pure silence filled the room, and Feyre shifted on her feet, wondering if maybe she’d crossed a line.

For the first time, she felt like she could see every raw emotion going through Azriel’s features.

Rhys had shown her a specific image, the three of them perched on the roof of the Townhouse, her feet swinging back and forth over the edge, a glass of wine in one hand. Azriel’s shadows subtly pinning her - keeping her from tumbling into the rose bushes. She leaned to the side, Cassian standing trying to snatch the glass from her - a wide grin on his face. Azriel watched from behind, amusement lining his features. An open emotion she hadn’t seen frequently from the male. Her mate had flown in, catching the perfect angle.

Cassian carefully placed the painting on the table - like it was made of pure gold, and wrapped her in a tight hug.

taglist: @infinitely-kate @foreverrandomwritings, @anuttellaa @morelovemorepeacemoretattoo-blog @justasillylittlegoofyguy, @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @bookishdeer @sidthedollface2 @mis-lil-red, @acourtofbatboydreams @blessthepizzaman @hallucynatiing @summerloversposts @i-am-infinite @fanfiction-for-my-soul, @brandywineeeee, @oktievia @inloveallthetime, @sleepylunarwolf

#cazriel x y/n #cazriel x reader #cassian x azriel x reader #cassian x azriel x y/n #acotar fic #acotar x reader #cassian x reader x azriel #azriel x cassian x reader #azriel x y/n #azriel x reader #cassian x y/n #cassian x reader

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comradekatara · 3 months

Note

Any fun Aang facts/ headcanons/ thoughts?

i don’t know if this is exactly fun but i think a lot about aang coping the first couple years after the end of the war. like i think on a spectrum of “the war is over and im so happy!!” to “suddenly thrust into a leadership position that is uniquely isolating and horrible,” aang perhaps isn’t struggling as much as the new firelord, but it’s a close thing.

i think katara would be the one who is happiest out of all of the gaang, since the war being over relieves this huge weight off her shoulders and she also gets to do the fulfilling work of rebuilding her tribe and finally being able to live up the potential she’s always imagined for herself, being able to preserve and pass on her heritage to a hopeful new generation. (that isn’t to say that she isn’t traveling the world with aang, trying to mitigate the damage caused by the war, but she would go back home as soon as possible. she needs to see gran gran!!!) there’s a sense of pride and satisfaction and joy to her role in this world that cannot be denied.

suki is in a similar position, where as the leader of the kyoshi warriors, her reunion with her sisters and their return to kyoshi island would be triumphant and joyous, and she gets to participate in the process of teaching a new generation of warriors, passing on her traditions and using her skillset to help people elsewhere. but then there’s also the lingering, nagging memory of being alone in a maximum security prison, and that trauma isn’t something one just gets over…

i see toph, more than anyone, spending the most time with zuko in the fire nation. she understands what it’s like to be alone, and she’d rather be with her family than her biological parents. i think she does visit them, but it doesn’t go well. toph may be incredibly sharp and mature for her age, but she is still just a kid, and the fact that her father will continue to reject her his entire life is a great wound, as much as she could flippantly deny it. but zuko understands what that’s like more than anyone, so being able to help him helps her through her own pain. even if zuko is a dick about it (although i think she stubbornly forces him to acknowledge her pain at some point instead of just outright dismissing her like he did on ember island), it’s a symbiotic relationship in its own way. i mean, he could definitely use a human lie detector.

sokka is like all over the place. i don’t know man he’s too complicated to sum up in one little paragraph. but yeah let’s just say the war ending doesn’t automatically Heal him and Solve his copious Issues. because it does solve some things but it also causes other problems. new problems even. but i already sort of talk about that here so let’s just move that for now.

and then of course zuko being crowned boy king of racist nation is like… not great. it works for thematic/symbolic/narrative reasons, of course, but realistically. it's a struggle! so, like i said, i think toph would stick by his side, and i think aang spends a lot of time in fire nation as well, and sokka as much as possible (NOT because he loves zuko, but because he thinks zuko is very stupid and he’s the world’s biggest control freak so if he doesn’t micromanage everything he’ll feel like it’s his fault if anything goes wrong). but iroh is…. not there. his best friend katara (i said what i said) is in the south pole or traveling the world or anywhere but Here. azula is. broken?? the world?? is broken?? and he (famously a fuck-up) is supposed to fix it???? poor kid.

anyway. this is all preamble to contextualize what can only be described as The Worst Puberty Anyone’s Ever Had. okay here’s a bonus fun headcanon: aang is born in october! i say this because he’s the most libra to ever do it (i don’t know shit about astrology but i do know that). so for the entire run of the show (from winter to summer) he is twelve years old. i don’t know if you’ve been around any twelve year old boys recently (not to brag, but i have), but they are Going Through It. and that’s the average twelve year old, not even including the shocking temporal displacement and being the sole survivor of a genocide and shouldering the burden of the whole fucking world and knowing that an entire country full of people want you dead.

the fact that aang maintains his childlike wonder and sweetness for the most part means that it’s going to hit him like a truck once the war ends and he finally has a chance to focus on himself. we see the early stages of puberty affecting him in terms of how he behaves around katara, the change between his book one kiddie crush and his book three confusion and intensity. but it’s more than just burgeoning sexuality. he wakes up, is informed that he’s been stuck in an iceberg for a century, that everyone he ever knew with the exception of appa and bumi are dead due to a genocide, and that it’s his responsibility to end the war. and the rest of the show is him trying to step into that duty and finally becoming the kind of person the world needs him to be. and now… it’s over.

on one hand, there’s that overwhelming sense of relief. he did it. he successfully prevented yet another genocide, stopped the war, and did it all without compromising his values. his new friends (his new family) are all alive and safe and now can rebuild the world together. they can rest and have fun and be kids. and that’s what aang is celebrating in the finale when he looks at all of them and smiles, when he hugs katara in acknowledgement of how far they’ve come. aang is incredibly strong and resilient, and it’s a strength that comes from a place of genuine love and understanding. he was taught good values as a kid, values that have guided him through the most unimaginable of tragedies. but he’s not perfect. no one is.

no one can prevent the oncoming swirl of hormones and trauma and second-guessing that is about to hit aang once it finally occurs to him that the purpose he has been fighting for ever since his entire life changed is now over, basically, and he has to figure out what it means to be alive outside of one sole, defining goal. as anne carson said in red doc>, “to live past the end of your myth is a perilous thing.” as jp sartre said in la nausée, “i outlive myself” (specifically, anny says it to roquentin). what is aang doing if not ouliving himself? had he lived a normal lifespan that hadn’t been disrupted by a spiritually imposed stasis, he probably would’ve been dead by now (long dead, if we can assume that his death in lok is by natural causes). and his myth, his grand destiny of stopping the war and once more carving out a space for his people in this brave new world? well, he did it. accomplished it with flying colors. now it’s over. now he is a perilous thing.

as i alluded to before, i think the only person who can really truly empathize with aang’s situation is sokka. sokka, too, has survived beyond any point he imagined. he has built his entire identity around being a shield, and now that the war is over, his ability to protect others from immediate threats and sacrifice himself for a cause has been ripped away from him. he now has to forge an identity beyond reducing himself to a soldier, in a fundamentally unfamiliar world. sokka was shaped by war, and yet he lived past it, past the end of his myth. aang’s world is now also unfamiliar, not solely because the war is over, but because the war is over and yet he is still alone. he did it, he saved the day, and yet what is his reward? he saved a lot of people, but none of his people. he can never go home again.

aang and sokka’s role as foils is something i want to write about more because i do find it truly fascinating, but in these terms i think we can also read their psychological states postwar as a sort of reciprocal dynamic. i’ve spoken in the past about how in a postwar reconstruction landscape, sokka would do a lot of the administrative work that aang cannot. not only because aang is literally twelve, but because aang cannot focus all his attention on this world when he is also its only real tether to the past. so sokka would make room for aang to focus on being the last airbender by sort of taking on the mantle of pseudo-avatar. solely in the most bureaucratic sense of the title, of course, but that would be the role that sustains and (somewhat) fulfills him after the war. and i think aang would be grateful for that, but he’d also be somewhat resentful?? not of sokka (aang is too emotionally mature for that, plus he respects sokka too much), but he’d definitely resent himself. think about how guilty and shameful he feels whenever he feels like he’s let the world down due to factors beyond his control. and so the fact that sokka is doing so much of what aang himself should be doing because he’s too busy being defined by his status as a genocide survivor… well, it might make him angry. he might lash out. and we’ve seen him frustrated, volatile, and emotionally confused. it’s not pretty.

i know that we all only want the best for aang and want him to be happy and thriving after the war because he’s such a perfect kid who deserves the world, but realistically, i do think there would be a period where he’s kind of hard to be around. not only because that’s just something that happens to all adorable baby boys once they turn thirteen (i, for one, learned this lesson extremely painfully), but because he’s dealing with a lot and the only person who even remotely understands what he’s going through is also the most emotionally repressed guy he knows.

throughout atla, he never allows himself a moment to just stop and feel, because the depth of his grief is actually scary and incredibly difficult to confront. but i think if he did ever allow himself to feel, he might never stop. he might, in fact, spend a month or so curled up in blankets in bed eating nothing but bean curd puffs and shutting out everyone but momo. i actually think that’s more realistic than him immediately entering a perfect relationship with katara and being highschool sweethearts and popping out three kids. and frankly, i think going through that kind of depression now that he no longer has any pressing responsibilities also happens to be something he’s earned. he’s been pushing down his grief, ignoring it, distracting himself from it, this whole time. it’s time he finally lets himself feel.

on a happier note, i like thinking about aang and suki getting closer after the war (or even being close offscreen during the show, like on ember island). i like to think that suki can act as a sort of cool big sister figure to aang, who has suffered just enough that she can empathize with his pain, but isn’t too close to the situation (like fellow genocide survivors katara and sokka, or genocide perperators’ direct descendants, like zuko) that she can still discuss it with him without bringing her own baggage into the fore. she’s very good at giving direct, no-bullshit advice in a nonetheless kind and compassionate way, and she’s also very good at joking around and knowing how to let loose and have fun in a way aang appreciates. she also really admires and highly values the role of the avatar in the world, and she also admires and cherishes aang as a person, so i think she could give him that kind of measured encouragement that aang really needs to hear.

obviously katara has done this for aang a lot in the past, and i’m not saying she wouldn’t also continue to be a shoulder for aang to lean on, because no matter how much he may try to push her away, she will always be there for him, but i think suki also sort of provides a necessary detachment where he isn’t bogged down by any romantic feelings for her and she isn’t bogged down by her own all too similar trauma the way katara is. suki has people to help her work through her own trauma (sokka, her sisters, etc.) so aang doesn’t need to reciprocate. she’s just happy to be there for her surrogate baby bro who needs her. she’ll serve the avatar in any way she can, whether by becoming a kyoshi warrior, by sacrificing herself to free his bison, or by just chilling with him in bed while he rants about his impossible situation and cries on her shoulder.

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nicksbestie · 2 months

Note

Hi! So I have a request for feminine reader “coming out” to Johnnie as an age regressor and he just comforts her and cares for her <3 Really fluffy and sweet pls!

Hope you’re doing well 🖤

thank you so much for the request!! i hope you're also doing well <3 this is written in the third person, but the feminine character isn't named! it made it easier for me to write, i hope you enjoy! <3

Discovery

word count : 4091

warnings : mentions of anxiety and trauma , but no details <3

pairing : johnnie guilbert/reader (romantic)

Johnnie liked to think that he was a good boyfriend, someone that people could trust, could tell anything. He wanted to believe that out of all people, his girlfriend trusted him enough to come to him when she wanted, or needed something. He knew he loved her, and he knew she loved him, but he still had concerns. Like the small, well, it was actually quite big, secret of hers that he’d just discovered.

He hadn’t been snooping, no. He wouldn’t intentionally do that. However, he had noticed that one of his hoodies had mysteriously disappeared, and had simply been looking for it. He had checked her closet, and had seen it curled up in one of the corners, seemingly pushed as far back as it could be. It didn’t alarm him that it was there, sometimes things fall off of hangers and get nudged up under stuff. What alarmed him, well, alarmed may not be the best word, but it was the only thing he could come up with at the time, was the pile of items that were now visible when he lifted the soft gray sweatshirt off of the floor.

Baby things? A pacifier, a few stuffed animals, a bottle, and some rattles and teethers?

Confused, would probably be the best word for the situation. His first thought was that she was pregnant, and just hadn’t told him yet, maybe hoping for it to be a surprise. That idea, however, was thrown out when he noticed the size difference of the pacifier in his hand, and a second one on the floor that he hadn’t seen at first. He picked up the other one, and realized one was specifically made for adults. He remembered a fanfiction he’d stumbled across a while back, trying to recall the name of what it had been about.

Age regression.

So now he knew a name to possibly explain this, but he had no idea what it was really about, so he turned to the internet for help. The first definition to pop up was one from Urban Dictionary, and with lack of experience, figuring anything could help, he clicked the link.

“Age regression is when somebody reverts to a child-like state of mind, often as a coping mechanism for things like PTSD, depression, anxiety, and other mental health issues. Basically age regressors are more at-peace and worry-free whilst in "littlespace" (A term for when one is in said mindset). These people simply need breaks from the stress of being old and often have a childish personality even outside of regression (Though sometimes it's not as obvious). Contrary to popular belief, age regression is NOT a kink or even related to sexual intercourse whatsoever. Some age regressors refer to themselves as littles and to their significant other as "Daddy", "Mommy", or just as their "Caregiver" Since they'd typically take care of their "Little" as if they're an actual child.”

So his girlfriend was an age regressor. He didn’t feel any kind of disgust, or any type of negative emotion. Except sadness. Continuing to read the description, he realized that age regressors, or, “littles”, needed a caregiver to take care of them, and by the sight of all of her stuff pushed into a dark corner he had a pretty good idea that she didn’t have one. And that broke his heart, that his girl had thought he wouldn’t be open to taking care of her, even in a way that isn’t as common as usual. He deeply hoped that she didn’t feel scared of talking to him, like he would ever judge her or belittle her for something that helped her feel better.

He knew she’d dealt with a lot of trauma in her short life, problems starting at home and feeding into her adult life. She’d told him when they first began officially dating that she was terrified of having an angry man in a house with her, as her strained relationship with family did not help in the slightest. He had held her while she talked, tears had been shed, kisses on her forehead had been placed. It had been an emotional night, and the more he thought about it, the more childlike she had seemed by the end of it. There was no verbal change, but she had clung to him and not said much until she’d finally fallen asleep against him.

He slowly put more pieces together in his head. The cut up food, small snacks, juice boxes that she had claimed “were just easier to drink out of”, the multiple stuffed animals littering their shared bed, the comfort blanket that was always referred to as her “blankie”, no matter what. He smiled as he thought about the way that she had always stayed close to his side in public, clutching his hand tighter to signal that she was nervous. The way she had always relaxed into his side when he wrapped an arm around her, gently rubbing hers, the soft giggles that left her lips when he kissed her forehead and whispered a soft “I love you.”

He wondered how long she’d been dealing with this alone, and how he didn’t notice. His heart wrenched when he thought about how rough overstimulation and sensory issues were for her to deal with when she was with him, making him not even want to think about her having to handle it alone. And not only alone, but in the mindset of a child, where she might not even understand what was happening, and by default, not know how to care for herself. He could see it far too easily in his mind’s eye, her, curled up with her blanket and a stuffed animal, possibly one of the pacifiers between her lips, tears rolling down her face as she feebly attempted to find a position, a feeling that didn’t hurt, something to soothe the bothersome sensations she was already struggling with.

He was still in front of the closet, no longer standing, but instead sitting criss-cross, turning the items over in his hands. His hoodie was thrown over his shoulder, the smaller of the two pacifiers being held in his left hand. Peering at it, he could easily see that there was a small fairy on it, wearing a crown. The pacifier itself was an orange and pink color mix, the clear part obviously adjusted to fit an adult, telling him it was often used. Picking up the adult one, he softly ran his fingers over the beads decorating it, reading the lettered ones. He smiled when he saw that it read, “Little Princess”, the black of the letters strongly standing out against the stark white of the bead’s background.

Princess had been his nickname for her for as long as he could remember, even when they were just friends, back before mutual crushes were developed. He felt a small stir in his heart at the fact that it had meant so much to her that she’d put it on a pacifier, one of her most vulnerable things she owned.

There was no hesitation in his mind when he turned over the idea of being her caregiver, just love that he didn’t think could grow stronger. He sat and thought of possible caregiver names. Mommy was definitely out of the question, but he was partial to bubba/bubby. But the only thing that he really felt fit was daddy. Daddy’s little princess. He just knew that she would blush dark red and let out those little giggles that he loved to hear. God, she was so precious. He hadn’t even seen her in her littlespace, and just the thought of it was so heartwarming to him. He already knew he loved her to pieces.

She wasn’t home yet, and she probably wouldn’t be for an hour. That gave him about sixty minutes to figure out how he wanted to handle this. No, handle wasn’t the right word. This wasn’t a problem, this wasn’t something that needed to be fixed, it wasn’t something he was angry over. Those words should be included when he brings it up. He knows she’s anxious, and this might be a rough conversation for her. That reassurance is going to be incredibly important. Go about, would be the right phrase. He has to take some time to decide how he wants to go about this conversation. He’s going to have to be gentle, probably cautious, and she might panic. He’s going to have to softly remind her it’s okay, that he still loves her just the same, if not more, and that they need to talk about it, but that it is all going to work out.

He takes all of the items, now known as little gear, and carefully places them on the bed. He leaves them there, along with her favorite stuffed animal and her blankie, and softly shuts the door. He walks into the kitchen, pulling up his notes app and opening the one filled with her favorite foods. It was now roughly 5:45, thirty minutes gone by, and she was expected home around 6:15. He easily pulled out some mac and cheese, currently the dairy free kind, but if she would rather the better kind, he can always change it. Slipping a new bottle of apple juice into the fridge, he figured it would have time to cool while he waited.

He wasn’t entirely sure of what else he could make to go with the mac and cheese, but scanning through the list, he quickly took an apple out of the fridge, easily cutting it into thin slices and placing them on a paper plate. He placed it back into the fridge, wondering if the apple-on-apple part of the food would be too much. (He would later find out that it wasn’t, and she loved it. She also asked for animal crackers later, when she was fully in headspace. And it may or may not have been one of the cutest things he’d ever seen.) He watched the clock tick to 6:10, hoping she’d be on time. The mac and cheese was finished cooking, and he was easily putting it in small bowls, the colored ones that they’d always loved.

She walked in the door at 6:14, face very clearly exhausted, an insanely long day wearing on her body. However, a genuine smile crossed her face as she noticed what was sitting on their counter. Her features softened, tiredness still evident, but love creasing her under-eyes as she smiled.

“Babe, you didn’t have to.”

He crosses the room, tall body bringing her in for a hug, softly rubbing her back, softly placing a kiss to the top of her head.

“You’ve had such a long day, I’m more than happy to make you dinner. We’ll eat, and afterwards, we can go cuddle, and relax for a bit. Does that sound good, princess?”

Just like he expected, the pet name made her flush red, and a small laugh left her lips. He stepped back, both of them sitting down, him beginning to eat.

“It’s dairy free, but if you’d rather have the other kind, I can make it. It’s no issue, I promise. I just didn’t want your stomach to hurt, especially not after you’ve done so much today. You need some rest, and I didn’t think that a stomach ache would make that easier on you.”

She sat there in shock for a few seconds, a smile still on her face.

“No, it’s okay. Thank you, so much. I love you.”

“I love you too, darling. Why don’t you go ahead and eat, then you can change into some soft clothes, and I’ll lay with you for a while, yeah?”

A nod in response, and in about fifteen minutes dinner was finished. He knew that dishes overwhelmed her, so he took care of it while he sent her off to go get changed, become more comfortable, momentarily forgetting about the stuff he left laying out. He didn’t recall it until about five minutes later, when he was wondering why she had gone so silent. He finished up the last piece of silverware, hurriedly throwing it into the dishwasher and starting the cycle, as he quickly got to the shared bedroom. He cursed under his breath when he saw that the door was not only shut, but locked.

“Baby? Can you open the door, please?”

He gently rapped his knuckles against the wood, patiently waiting for a reply. He got one in the form of a muffled “no.” He desperately tried to ignore the painstakingly obvious sob in her voice.

“Hey, we need to talk. C’mon, open the door, princess.”

The lock slowly turned, the door slowly swinging open. Johnnie walked in, noticing an empty bed, minus his girlfriend sitting at the head of it, tears pouring out of her eyes at a steady pace. He gave her a soft, sad look sitting down next to her and pulling her in close.

“It’s okay, love. I’ve got you. Where’s all your stuff, angel?”

She shook her head, tears falling faster.

“There is no stuff.”

Johnnie gently ran a hand through her hair, softly shushing her, waiting for her to calm down a little bit.

“Honey, we both know there is, and that we should talk. It’s okay, I’m here. I love you, and I’m not leaving.”

She stifled a sob into his body, desperately wishing she had hidden all of her stuff better. When she’d walked in, she’d stood there in shock, and then quickly shoved it back onto a shelf in the closet.

“Here, baby, will this help? C’mere, arms up, lovely.”

She brought her face up, noticing he had picked up his hoodie again, softly motioning for her to raise her arms up so he could gently pull the soft sweatshirt over her head. It didn’t make her feel little. Not at all. She ignored the soft, knowing smile on his face, immediately laying back into his arms, because as embarrassed and distraught as she was, she really needed some comfort. Even if it wasn’t the kind that she really wanted.

“Sweetheart, I know what’s going on, and you know that I know what’s going on. It’s okay, my love. I’m not judging you, I’ve always been here for you. And I am confident that isn’t going to change with this.”

He worried that he’d said the wrong thing when her body heaved and she sobbed harder, also clutching his shirt like her life was depending on it. She pulled back, gasping when the gray of his hoodie was stained darker with her tears.

“I’m sorry.”

He gave her a confused look, rubbing her back.

“For what, little one?”

She looked so small compared to him, and he felt nothing but protective over her. Her tears had stopped, but distress was evident on her face.

“For getting your shirt, and your hoodie all wet.”

He didn’t feel any type of upset with her, but her eyes were watering over as she peered up at him, tears threatening to spill over again.

“Princess, I'm not angry with you for crying. It’s okay. You don’t have to be sorry for feeling your emotions, baby.”

A short sniffle was let out, him immediately pressing another kiss to her head.

“You weren’t supposed to find out like this.”

“Shh, honey. Deep breaths. Let’s talk, yeah?”

A nod into his chest, but no more spoken words, so he took it upon himself to start the conversation.

“Alright, princess. I’ll talk, you listen. Just try to even out your breathing, you can interject if you need to. I found all your stuff when I was looking for my hoodie. I would never go to snoop and invade your privacy like that. I feel like that’s important to mention, just so you’re fully aware that I did not intend to scare you by looking for this. Secondly, I know what’s going on, thanks to some research, and I can’t imagine how hard this must have been for you to handle alone.”

A soft, but confirming, noise elicited from the girl curled up against his chest.

“That being said, I know you don’t have a caregiver. Can you look at me, angel?”

Her eyes were still teary, but she raised her head to make eye contact, and he cradled her face in his hands. He pressed a kiss to the tip of her nose, getting a small smile out of her. It didn’t reach her eyes, but it was better than the semi-permanent frown she’d been wearing.

“I love you, baby, you know that. I hope that you also know I would do anything for you. Anything at all. Do you want me to be your daddy, little one?”

A sob tore from the back of her throat, making Johnnie believe he’d said the wrong thing… again. But his fears were calmed quickly this time, when she sucked in a breath, clearly speaking out a “yes”, before dissolving back into cries. He didn’t hesitate to resume comforting her, whispering soft praise and loving words, waiting until her cries slowed into hiccups and gasping breaths, before speaking again.

“You’ve had such a long day, princess. Why don’t I go run you a bath, hm? I’ll even put bubbles in it, if that’s something you want, and I’ll wash your hair.”

She nodded, but her grip on Johnnie, her daddy, (she was still reeling with the new happiness), didn’t let up. He kissed her once more, helping her wrap her legs around his waist, looping his arms under them, and lifting her. She gently rested her head on his shoulder, refusing to acknowledge just how tiny she felt right now as her thumb slowly began to make its way to her mouth. However, it only took about three seconds for Johnnie to notice, and softly pull it away.

“No, baby, let’s not suck on our thumbs. How about we go grab your paci, sweetheart?”

He easily moved towards the closet, quickly locating the missing items, grabbing the bigger of the two pacifiers off of the shelf, and gently pushing it into her mouth.

“Much better, baby girl. You look so adorable, don’t you? Daddy’s little princess.”

Her arms were now wrapped around his neck, head resting on his shoulder, blush rising furiously to her cheeks as she could feel herself easily slipping into littlespace.

Why was he so good at this? Maybe it was the gentleness, the softness, but either way, he was so effortlessly coaxing her into headspace. She’d never felt safer than she did right now, and she desperately hoped that she would have this for a long time.

She didn’t know it, but Johnnie was thinking the exact same thing. She looked so happy, so comfortable, that he wanted to keep her there forever. He took a small amount of pride in being trusted with this, but even more happiness in being the reason she feels safe.

“It’s okay, angel. I know you’re slipping. Shh, sweetpea, let it happen. Daddy’s got you.”

He loved this girl with his whole heart, and this new side of her didn’t affect that at all. He started a bath, checking the temperature on the inside of his wrist multiple times before softly helping her undress and letting her hold his arm and shoulder to sit herself in the tub. Quickly folding up her clothes and setting them on the side, he stepped out solely to throw a towel in the dryer with some fabric softener, setting it on 20 minutes, and to grab one of the bath toys he’d noticed but not set out previously.

“Look what I got, bubba! Why don’t you play with this while Daddy washes your hair? Paint me a pretty picture, okay?”

He gently handed her the set of bath paints, before grabbing the plastic cup he kept in the bathroom. He filled it up with water, pressing his hand along her head to keep the water from going in her eyes as he softly wet her hair. He looked down to see her intensely focused on the colors that were now decorating the bathtub wall, and couldn’t stop the smile crossing his face. He gently shampooed her hair, making sure to keep it out of her eyes as he washed it out, pressing a kiss to her forehead as she took a break from painting and leaned into his touch.

“Alright, sweetie, I’m all done! Wow, that is absolutely beautiful, baby!”

A huge grin spread across her face, now, as she brandished the paintbrush at him, getting a little bit of yellow on the end of his nose.

“It us, daddy!”

He looked at the artwork, seeing two stick figures holding hands, a blotch of yellow as the sun, and some green for grass. He pulled out his phone and took a picture of it, immediately adding it to his favorites.

“It’s perfect, angel. C’mon, sweetheart, let’s get out, so we can get some cuddles in before bedtime!”

Just as expected, a pout formed on her face as the painting was slowly washed away, and the paint on Luke’s nose was wiped off.

“It’s okay, princess, Daddy has a picture so he can cherish it forever. Now, tomorrow, when it’s bath time, you can paint me a new one!”

That put a smile back on her face. He grabbed the soft, and warm, towel out of the dryer, wrapping her in it and softly toweling her dry. Grabbing the clothes she’d put on just two hours before, he gently helped her redress, scooping her up and placing her on the sink counter. He bracketed her body with his own so that she wouldn’t fall, setting up her toothbrush for her.

“I’ll dry your hair while you brush your teeth, okay little one? Let me know if you need some help, princess.”

Plugging in the hair dryer and being very careful to not have the heat too high or too close, he was about halfway done drying her hair when she finished brushing her teeth, spitting into the sink. He took his other hand, switching the sink on, washing it out, and then passed her the container that held her retainers in it.

“Here you go, sweetpea. Pop these in, and then you can have your paci to suck on while Daddy finishes up drying your hair, alright?”

She nodded, easily slipping them in, and he took note of the fact that she was barely verbal right now. He figured it had something to do with the emotions of the night, and wondered how verbal she was usually. He’d find out in due time, but he made sure to give detailed instruction, as well as comfort laced in his words, if it had something to do with fear or anxiety of the situation.

Passing her the pacifier once she was done, it only took about five more minutes to finish drying her hair, and if he passed the time by singing to her, loud enough to hear over the hair dryer, but not loud enough to overstimulate her, nobody besides the two of them had to know.

Unplugging the hair dryer and running his hands through her hair to make sure it was fully dry and no shampoo or conditioner was left in it, he picked her up off the counter, pressing a kiss to her cheek, and flipping off the lights on his way out. She let out a yawn into his neck, pacifier falling onto his shoulder. He grabbed it with one arm, the other still supporting her weight, and softly pushed it back into her mouth. She gripped his shirt in a tight fist, a small lisp sounding out around the rubber.

“I seepy, Daddy.”

He gently rubbed her back, bouncing her a little bit while he grabbed her blankie and favorite stuffie.

“Oh, sweet girl, I know. It’s late for such a little one to be up.”

He softly laid her down, heart breaking a bit when she whimpered and didn’t want to let go of him.

“I know, angel, I’m here. I promise.”

He tucked the blankets up around her, laying down next to her and pulling her close for a cuddle.

“Get some rest, little one. Daddy will be right here when you wake up.”

He smiled, the expression nearly permanent on his face, as he heard a few words.

“Loves you, Daddy.”

“I love you too, princess.”

#johnnie guilbert #johnnie guilbert fanfic #johnnie guilbert x reader #johnnie guilbert fic #johnnie guilbert fanfiction #johnnie and jake #fanfic #jake webber fluff #jake webber fanfic #jake webber fanfiction #jake webber #jake and johnnie #johnnie guilbert age regression #johnnie guilbert agere #johnnie guilbert sfw #johnnie guilbert caregiver

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jiggy-manda · 2 months

Note

hiiii

please write about Amanda Young x fem!reader :)

she gets very jealous and furry when someone flirts with us :)))))

jealous!amanda young x fem!reader

warnings: none… age gap kinda? obv amanda is in her 30s but reader is in her 20s so just take that how you will

wc: 1.6k

your situation with jigsaw and the apprentices was… different.

you weren’t an apprentice, per se, but you also weren’t completely a victim; you floated around somewhere in between. like a middle-man, almost. you were never directly involved with the crimes, though you were definitely knowledgeable of them. you’d been tested as well, but for some reason it seemed like your test wasn’t… as brutal.

you’d talked to amanda a few times, mainly when you were begging to be let go and she was busy laughing at you. some part of you kind of thought she went easy on you, but you couldn’t tell if that was true or if it was just you making up things to cope with what had happened.

ever since your test, you’d been staying with john and the apprentices— which you later learned was not normal for other jigsaw victims. you never found out why, but there was always a slight feeling in your brain that the lingering looks from his female apprentice had something to do with it.

either way, it was something you chose not to dwell on because you knew it would only lead to more questions and more disappointment.

it felt pointless to continue stewing over it, so for the next few minutes you continued on in your notebook, writing down different plans john or the apprentices had mentioned over time and looking over the new list of people and their offenses.

you were so busy reading a file on some new contraption that you didn’t even notice the shadowy figure suddenly hovering above you.

mark hoffman was perched on the side of your desk with one leg hanging off the edge. “what are you working on?”

amanda quietly scoffed at his presence from her makeshift bedroom, a bit in shock that you would even entertain the man. you, on the other hand, were just looking for a way to exit the conversation with him.

looking up at mark, you quickly realized he was way too close— you could smell his cologne, or lack thereof.

she tried not to keep looking at you, but amanda couldn’t help but stare. she smirked as she watched, noting how you subtly crinkled your nose when he leaned towards you.

amanda has never liked hoffman. hoffman, not mark— she’d never dare give him the pleasure of addressing him by his name. she never liked him, but she disliked him even more when he interacted with you. in the back of her mind, a small part of her thought he just continued to talk to you simply to piss her off. he’s not completely clueless; he knows how to push amanda’s buttons. he’d probably talk to you even if he didn’t like you just to fuel his vendetta against the small brunette.

she didn’t like it when he was around you.

“…oh, you know. just, traps and stuff, i guess…”

“you guess?” he laughed at that. “c’mon sweetheart, you gotta have more confidence than that.”

you sighed, setting down the pencil you’d been holding to look up at him. “do you need something, mark?”

“oh come on, don’t be like that,” he replied. “you barely talk to any of us! i’m just trying to get to know you.”

you looked down at the hands you had eventually clasped and set against your desk. you then gave him a tight smile. “okay… what do you want to know?”

he grinned. “you got a boyfriend?”

you instinctively recoiled back, hoping the disgust you felt didn’t show on your face. if you asked amanda, she would’ve said it did— but she wasn’t even watching, of course not.

taking a moment to clear your throat, you met his gaze to respond. “no, i don’t.”

the brooding woman in her makeshift bedroom finally spoke up, sarcasm dripping from her voice. “but i’m sure she’d love to hear a proclamation of love from a man twice her age.”

he turned his head towards amanda, the force of his movements causing even his body to shuffle. “can’t you just mind your business?” he shot back.

you were planning on jumping in, eventually— but the decision of what to say was still playing around in your mind. to be fair, you were in a borderline cult of serial killers, so your sexual preferences really should be the least of their concerns.

“whatever you say, old man. im just pointing out the obvious, that’s all. i don’t think a woman your age would even go for you, honestly.” the corner of amanda’s lip turned into a grin when she saw mark’s hand twitch.

“you know what, smartass?” he said, slamming his palms on your desk as he stood up. “you wanna say that again? what the hell is your problem?”

amanda pushed herself off of the perch she called a bed. “you’re my problem, asshat. you think you’re so much better than me and everyone else just because you’re some high class detective who’s never failed a drug test in his life,” she spat out.

mark got closer to amanda, nearly backing her up to one of the desks close by. at this point, your brain had finally started working again, so you rushed to get between the two.

“okay, can we please be a bit rational here?”

you were facing mark, watching as the upper part of his mouth twitched, and you just managed to keep a straight face when amanda mumbled something about ‘his lip injections going haywire.’

“and can you please sit down?” you finally addressed both of them. they both grumbled as they made their own separate ways to take their places.

clearing your throat, you returned to your seat and ran your hands through your hair. “she’s not completely wrong,” you said as you faced the man who’d started this whole thing. “i don’t mind if someone’s older than me,” you started, looking back at amanda to correct her comment.

you looked back at mark, studying his face before finishing your statement. “but i don’t date men.”

amanda, for once, was happy your attention was focused on mark and not herself. she did not need you to see the shock (intrigue) on her face at that revelation.

mark just stared at you for a few moments, not quite sure what to say.

“oh.”

“yeah,” you started, your face starting to heat up at all the attention on you. it didn’t help that the topic of the matter was your sexuality and love life. “so. um… yeah.”

“then… you got a girlfriend?”

amanda perked up at this, wishing she could appear less interested.

“nope,” you let out with a sigh. “but it’s whatever. i like it here anyways, working on traps and helping out.”

“sure,” he said, scanning the room. it seemed like he didn’t really know what to do at that point… it was clear that flirting with you was his only objective, so it’s not like you had anything else to talk about. “i’m gonna go ask john about one of the next traps but i’ll be back soon.”

you nodded, while amanda gave a “yeah, whatever.” you tried not to laugh at their back-and-forth demeanor. it was clear they didn’t like each other— though, you weren’t a very big fan of mark either. you had a hard time believing anyone was, really.

amanda, however… you weren’t quite sure how to feel about her. you never interacted much; mark made more of an effort to talk to you, and you didn’t even like him. if anything, you were confused by amanda.

she didn’t really talk to you, but for some reason it was like she didn’t want anyone else talking to you either. on the rare times that she did give you more than a few minutes of her attention, she would snap at anyone who interrupted the conversation— anyone besides john, of course.

“so you’re gay?”

the question struck you out of your thoughts, nearly making you jump. you turned and faced amanda completely, pausing a few minutes to take in her presence.

“yeah.”

“cool.”

a few silent seconds passed before amanda spoke again with a slight smile playing at her face. “me too.”

“yeah?” you tilted your head, meeting her eyes.

“yeah… and i really didn’t like seeing hoffman flirt with you,” she replied.

you paused, not sure whether you should push it any further. “amanda young,” you said with a dramatic gasp. “were you… jealous?”

she immediately scoffed, rolling her eyes where she stood. “you wish.”

“i think you were,” you replied, taking a step closer. you tilted your head to the side and looked into her eyes. “i’m not stupid, amanda. you’re not subtle in the way you snap at everyone who tries to interact with me.”

her face slightly flushed at that. “that’s not true,” she sputtered out. “i snap at everyone.”

“pfft, yeah, whatever,” you let out.

“im serious,” she said, taking hold of your arm. you looked down at your arm and then back up at her, raising your brow. she quickly let go of it and brought her arm back. “i just don’t like people,” she reasoned. “it’s nothing personal.”

“sure.”

“whatever,” she huffed out. if looks could kill, you would’ve been six feet under by now. you didn’t know a small body could hold so much rage, but you figured you’d save the psychoanalytics for later.

it was clear that you’d gotten under her skin, and a small part of you felt a bit of pride that you’d gotten the usually stoic girl to stutter and blush.

you grinned, making your way back to your desk covered in blueprints and plans. “and amanda,” you started. “let me know if you ever want to… collaborate.”

a/n: yayyyy more amanda fics 😙😙 this was really fun to write <3 i might make another part? idk i feel like leaving the ending open was kinda fun 🫣

#amanda young #amanda young x reader #saw x reader #saw 3 #saw iii #amanda young saw

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rayrayvan · 1 year

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It's okay, I forgive you

Pairing: Shuri x fem!reader

Note: This request was made by @kingstormpostsshit and I hope you like this piece. Enjoy everyone 🤗

As the Shuri coped in her lab figuring out how to recreate the heart-shaped herb, you and Riri helped make suits for the battle between Talokan and Wakanda.

“Griot what’s the probability of the herb?” Shuri asked her AI and when Griot told her it was about 97% , you immediately stopped what you’re doing and rushed to her side.

You embraced her immediately “Well done my love” You told her “Will it work?” Nakia asked, “It will work if it closes” Shuri told her “Griot print it out. The three of you rushed to the printing machine and the process of printing started.

After it was printing it closed up and glow into a purplish color. Nakia hugged Shuri and both nodded to each other.

“Just prepare if I ever I have a cardiac arrest okay?” Shuri told both you and Nakia as you settled your kimoyo beads to her chest “Wait cardiac arrest?” Riri was baffled at how the ritual would go. You leaned closer to your girlfriend and held her hands “Just promise me, come back to me, to us, to Wakanda okay? I love you” You whispered and kissed her forehead lovingly “I love you too, I’ll be back” She promised you

As Nakia started the ritual and Shuri drank the purple liquid, you three awaited for it to work.

Suddenly Shuri woke up, Nakia rushed to her side while you wait “Who did you see?” Nakia asked but Shuri was hesitant to answer “It didn’t work, it’s not, I know it’s not” Shuri repeated over and over and you were quick you hold her “Shuri we don’t know, calm down my love, it’s okay” As you reassured her, she pushed you accidentally and you flew across the room and slammed into a window pane. Riri was quick to your side to aid you. The pain you felt was running through your back, some broken glass scratched in your arms. Shuri was in shock that she did something to the last person who knows her more than anyone even herself.

As Riri helped you stand up, you broke free from her grip and limped your way to your shocked girlfriend. “Hey , Shuri look at me” You told her and cupped her face between your palms “I hurt you” She repeatedly whispered and her eyes are frantically looking everywhere except your face “Shuri, it’s okay, hey, it’s okay, I’m okay” You told her . She looked directly to your eyes and when she saw blood in your cheek, she sobbed “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry” She repeatedly apologized to you. You embraced her quickly and told her it was okay and you forgave her.

A few hours went by and you were patched up, you offered to help them build weapons and armours for the fight. As Shuri was building her Black Panther suit, her eyes were always on a look out for you and when you caught her looking at you, she’d look away, so you decided to approach her. “You seem to miss me everytime I’m out of your peripheral view” You told her jokingly and as she looked up to your face, her eyes saw how patched up your arms were so she averted her gaze. You took notice of this and told her to look at you.

The hesitation to look directly at your eyes was evident around her face, so you cupped her face between both of your palms. You smiled when you saw her eyes, she was slightly taller than you so you had to raise your head to look at her beautiful face. “My love it’s okay, I forgive you” You told her but she went on to saying “How could you forgive me? I almost killed you, I cannot lose the last person who knows me well. I’ve lost too much , losing you would break me. You’re the only person left to keep me sane. I’m so sorry Y/N” She cried and you hugged her “It’s okay my love, I’m right here.” You told her reassuringly.

And that day on, you both made silent promises that were kept to yourselves. Shuri vowed to handle you with care and love. As for you, you vowed to stay beside her side and when things get tough, you stay for her.

#shuri x reader #letitia wright #mcu shuri #shuri x you #shuri x y/n #queen shuri #shuri udaku x reader #shuri black panther #princess shuri #angst with a happy ending

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tofulune · 8 months

Text

༻skin/flesh/beating hearts

i. SKIN (down to the roots)

ii. FLESH (all that i am)

iii. BEATING HEARTS (new beginnings)

—"Darling, did you mean free from me?"

Vi x F!Reader

Synopsis: You live underneath Vi’s ribcage as a squiggly, fading stick-and-poke Vi had pressured you into doing.

A series of drabbles in which Vi copes with the loss of her first love (you).

Tags: [1,122 Words], First Love, Tattooing, Petty Arguments, Cuddling

You live underneath Vi’s ribcage as a squiggly, fading stick-and-poke Vi had pressured you into doing for her.

She never thought you’d actually do it until your shaky hands found its way onto the needle. Vi remembers the quivers with each stroke and the pain hidden behind her amusement for your careful gaze.

It’s amusing to Vi.

“I don’t know why you’re making me do this…” You mumble out.

A secret part of her relishes in the moments where you fuss over her, when you're careful with her. She smirks when you’re not looking.

Even though she’s upset at you right now, one look at you and Vi wants to promise you the world.

“I’m just so…mad! Like, don’t you ever get tired of it?” Vi says and her ribs puff out with each angry sigh she lets out much to your alarm, your eyebrows furrowing in concern as you try to smooth the skin taut again. You scold Vi, but she keeps talking as if waving you off. “That enforcers can just do whatever they want to us because of where we come from?”

“I thought you said we’d stop talking about this.”

“Not until I understand what your problem is.”

This morning, the two of you got in a fight about a job Vi heard about from Little Man. Vi, you, and the others were supposed to be packed and ready to go by tonight, but when you found out the job was in the heart of Piltover you and Vi started to argue which ended up in you guys not heading out anymore.

Now, Vi did not care about what anyone else thought. If Mylo or Claggor had anything to say about a job she’d tell them to suck it up and keep on.

With you it’s different.

She could probably keep on without you…for a little bit anyway. The thing is, that unlike Mylo and Claggor who follow Vi trying to catch up, you plant your stubborn feet into the floor and not too long later Vi’s ego comes running back after you, upset and all.

Safe to say, even if she did leave she wouldn’t even have made it out the door.

You take the needle back huffing and furrowing your brows at Vi and Vi immediately shuts her mouth and holds your wrist keeping the needle there with a determined look on her face.

It’s quiet a moment.

“Tell me your greatest dream.” Vi says still a bit angry, but you can tell she tried to soften her voice.

“My greatest dream?” You reply, raising a brow, confused at the sudden change of topic. Your hand relaxes though and you resume the tattoo on the second loop of the letter in your name.

“It could be anything.”

Vi watches you carefully and attentively as if she’s ready to ingrain your words to memory.

You’re still quiet as a mouse.

Vi grumbles sighing thinking you might not want to talk. Vi looks away with a small frown on her lips though her brows remain furrowed.

You pause the tattoo and sit up a bit. Your eyes wander around the room before a slight sheepish smile appears on your lips. Vi notices it, confused a bit.

“It’s silly…”

Vi’s own small smile appears at your shyness. Did your greatest dream have something to do with…her?

“I won’t judge.”

The room is tense as you stare at Vi, gnawing at your bottom lip before sighing and giving in.

The way you look at Vi makes the butterflies in her stomach flutter. She hopes she’s not blushing as she tries her best to have a neutral face.

“…A princess.”

“Huh…?”

Vi snorts thinking it was some sort of joke and she laughs, which was a mistake because her rib aches and she holds your name (or at least half of it) with a groan.

“I mean it…!” You smile rolling your eyes chuckling at Vi’s agony, the atmosphere becoming a lot less tense. “I really do think it’d be nice to be a princess…”

Vi grimaces as she looks back at you slowly laying on her pillows again. You pull her skin taut and start working on your name again.

“Sure, but why a princess?” She shrugs.

“Well…we always scale those tall buildings when we head topside. Maybe I’d like to be inside one day. High ceilings and all.”

You pause, just taking in the sounds of Vi’s small breaths whenever you poke at her.

“I mean, Piltover looks like a fairytale compared to Zaun. I spent all my life looking up at what could be.” You decide to say.

“Then…I guess that makes sense.” And Vi means it.

When Vi looks at you, you were the perfect princess. She wants that for you and she imagines that for you. You, in a castle with a crown of jewels and clothes that weren’t worn out or faded.

Vi smiles before snorting. “There’s not really an opportunity to be a princess down here.”

“Well…I like being down here with you.”

You say it as if you were wondering if it was such a crime to want to be with Vi. To be safe under Vander’s protection. You two were still just teenagers, you understood that much.

Vi smiles. Though she loves the feeling she gets in her heart when she hears it, she never understood until later that this is enough for you.

She supposes that’s where you two were opposites.

You and Vi were always a push and pull with each other.

You were steady and she would always rock the boat, yet you both were too stubborn to see the other’s side.

You lift the needle off of Vi’s ribs staring at her.

You two were so upset with each other.

Yet there was your name like a promise.

In squiggly black ink is your name, carved into her ribcage.

You don’t move when Vi then takes your hand holding it against her cheek as she closes her eyes.

Vi’s love felt like a curse sometimes. The shield and the blade all at once.

Vi loved so hard sometimes it felt as though you were suffocating.

But someone like you who’s parents are always working in the factories, who didn’t have a brigade like Vi did, her love was all you’ve ever known and you were selfish with it.

“First thing tomorrow morning we’ll go to the penthouse in Piltover.” You say softly laying down and resting your head on Vi’s shoulder.

Vi’s eyes perk up a bit and she raises a brow.

“You think it’s a good idea?”

You nod, “I trust you.”

Though you and Vi had your differences, the love was there. That much was known.

#vi x reader #arcane vi x reader #vi arcane x reader #arcane x reader #arcane imagines

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soapyghostie · 10 months

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Hi! I’ve never sent a request so I’m not fully sure how it works, but I love your account! I was wondering if you could do some headcanons on how Jason Voorhees and Micheal Myres would react to an autistic reader who vocal stims a lot? (ie, screeching out of the blue, making stupid noises, repeating phrases stuck in their head etc), if not that’s completely fine :) thank you!

Hey! I had to do a little research on this so I hope I got it right. Hope you enjoy!

Jason Voorhees

Are you okay? Are you having a seizure? Are you gonna die?! Jason is very concerned; he thinks you're gonna croak. He doesn’t know what autism is. His mother never explained what disorders are or the many different types of disorders: she never needed to. You’re probably gonna have to explain it to him, when you calm down, because his mother has no clue that you have autism and probably thinks you’re on drugs. If in any case she knew, she’d have probably explained it to him already.

Jason doesn’t know how to help you. All he really knows is to sit with you and listen to you squawk like a pterodactyl for 5 hours straight. However, his mother teaches him some techniques to help you cope with your autism and sharpen your communication skills.

One thing for sure is that you never have to worry about bright lights and noise; Jason only lights his cabin by candle, which isn’t too bright, and you guys live out in the woods so, over all, it’s pretty quiet. Also, from what his mom told him, Jason knows you don’t understand sign language so he writes simple sentences on pieces of paper as a way of communication.

Jason is pretty patient. If you don’t understand something right away, he’ll just wait until you do. He’ll give you a thumbs up as a source of encouragement. You got this! Jason believes in you! 😊

As for your random outbursts, it scares Jason. You guys will just be sitting there in peace and then all of a sudden you start yelling random shit: it startles him. Again, he’ll just sit there and let you yell rant because what’s his business to shut you up. Just don’t get up and yell all in his face though: it hurts his ears.

Michael Myers

Let’s start with that you absolutely annoy the crap out of him. Sometimes it gets to the point Michael is questioning his own sanity and wishing he’d of killed you a long time ago. Yeah, that’s how bad it is. 😂 He’s always wondering how the hell he got stuck with you. If he could kill himself, he would, but you know… he’s immortal. 🤷‍♀️

Michael doesn’t know what autism is so he thinks you're on drugs. You can’t change his mind, even if you try to explain it to him: he’s not convinced. He’ll literally trash your room to see if you're hiding anything and stalk you a lot to make sure you aren’t buying anything that you shouldn’t be inhaling. Well, I guess you aren’t taking drugs, but you definitely are a weirdo.

Your random outbursts and screaming make him wanna sock you in the face. Michael really likes his peace and quiet; you making all those loud noises just pisses him off. He almost has himself convinced that you do it on purpose. There was this one time when you randomly started screeching; you were screeching for almost 30 minutes and Michael had enough of it. He grabbed the closest small object he could find and jammed that sucker in your mouth. Though, he wished it went down your throat so you would choke and die. 🫤

Even though Michael is pretty mean to you, he still loves you in his own way. When he found out that you’ve had a disorder this whole time, that he probably found out when he was stalking you while you were at a therapy session, he decides he’s going to learn tactics to help you cope with your autism. Finally… 😑 Even if it is so you stop screaming at the top of your lungs all the time.

Michael will steal crafts, coloring books, paper, and anything you may want from the store to keep your mind busy. If you're focusing on a craft, you won’t randomly screech right? He’ll also steal a whole bunch of prescribed medication from the pharmacy in hopes that one of them will cure your autism. I don't think ibuprofen helps with autism Michael. 🤦🏼‍♀️ He just really wants you to stop being so annoying all the time.

#slashers #slasher x reader #slashers x reader #horror #dead by daylight x reader #dead by deadlight #slasher #dbd killer #jason voorhees #jason vorhees x reader #friday the thirteenth #friday the 13th #michael myers #michael myers x reader #halloween #sophi ghostie writes

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onlyhereforthestories · 1 year

Note

Maybe an Alexia ficlet around distance and how they deal with upset or miscommunication. Love your writing

First one here you go! This one was a little hard to write but I hope it shows that sometimes a bit of space and patience helps no matter how hard that is sometimes.

Loving someone is hard, like really hard. But it is also one of the best feelings in the world. They are the person that you can’t wait to talk to when you wake up and the last thought on your mind before you fall asleep. They cheer you up when you are down and make the small battles worth every second. That doesn’t mean it isn’t still so, so hard some days.

Today was one of those days. You and Alexia were currently on opposite sides of the world and had been for the last 10 months, this was due to the fact that Valto had decided that you needed to play amongst the rest of your national teammates during the season before the world cup. When you woke up this morning you knew something was wrong, Alexia would have normally sent you a message to wake up to but there wasn’t one and it was already past midday for her.

She was still the first person you wanted to text once awake so you did it anyway, she was always one to say to text however many times you wanted and she’d always reply when she could. After sending the text you hoped into the shower and tried not to let your mind spin with possibilities, which you will say was pretty unsuccessful. By the time your shower was done you were pretty sure you had gone over the last week of conversations with the woman you loved with everything you had in you and you had decided at least five things you probably said wrong.

Checking your phone again to see still no message did nothing for your aching heart, in fact it just made you sad. You wished nothing more than to be able to go see her and make whatever it was you had done wrong right but that wasn’t possible, she was miles and miles away. Out of your reach.

Instead you text, that was all you could do was text. You sent a message to ask if you had done something wrong and what it was if so, so you could put it right but all you got was a simple have a good day message. As sure sign that she didn’t want to talk to you, which broke your already breaking heart. Whatever you had done was bad enough that she didn’t even want to interact with you and now all you could think about was the possibility of her ending it.

Love is a funny thing and when you get to experience it, it changes you. You learn to adapt your own self a little bit in order to account for this other person in your life, a whole different personality that won’t always run smoothly with yours and that is what you were trying to do here.

Alexia sometimes found it hard to process things to do with feelings and you and you knew that when she wanted to be left alone you had to try your best to give her that space even though it hurt you a little. Space that sometimes made your head spin and spiral with all the bad endings that you were confident weren’t going to happen, but that didn’t stop your head from thinking them.

The morning of silence turned into an afternoon and then you knew she would have gone to bed so you were in for a silent night. You processed what you could and tried to sleep as best you could with the worry.

The next morning you woke up to a text asking for a little more time but to tell you she was okay and just needed some space. It was always something she promised to do if these days happened because she knew youd be worrying if not so you appreciated her a lot for that. You left her alone for the day no matter how many times she came into your mind, no matter how many things happened that you wanted to tell her, she deserved the space she wished for from you.

You went to bed that night with a sad calm that you always got to on the second night, the realty of the situation always hit and you found it hard to not shut off from the world. Shutting off was part of you coping mechanism when it came to the love of your life freezing you out.

All that went away the next morning when you woke up to see her name on your phone. Good morning pretty girl, I had dinner last night and all I could think about was trying some of your cooking. I hope you slept well.

Rough times happen and you knew that you would both have a conversation about what made her need some space, what you need to work on and how you are going to do that but at the end of the day as long as she came back to you that’s all that matters.

#alexia putellas x reader #ficlet #woso x reader

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agendabymooner · 5 months

Text

seb’s best girl: meeting mick in malaysia || sv5 scenario (2)

foster dad!sebastian vettel x daughter!ofc (filo!ofc)

EXTENSION TO CRAZY RICH WIFE AND SHE’S EVERYTHING… AND HE’S JUST MICK

Summary: Sebastian Vettel understood the downfalls of infertility just by being there for his wife. What he didn’t know, however, was that his life would drastically change when their foster daughter, Barbie Blanco, was put into their care. OR, what made Sebastian the best father figure to a teenager who had nobody but herself.

Scenario summary: Sebastian and Bel had taken their foster daughter to her first race, where she met the friends that she’d have forever. OR, it turns out that being alone in high school can could lead to happiness as Barbie met Mick for the first time in Malaysia— with the boy and his sister Gina getting curious about the Filipino girl.

Content warning: Fluff, mentions of isolation and sadness (Barbie not making friends in school), attentive people, Mick and Gina being siblings and wholesome, brief Tagalog dialogue + translation

Note: I’m planning to run on no sleep all day tomorrow so I’m going to post this before I nap hehehe enjoy some Mick and Barbie! xx

a - n masterlist

o - z masterlist

if you’d like to get on one of my taglists, check this post out!

Sebastian made an effort to stay in the Philippines way before the 2014 season started— and throughout those two months of having Barbie in their care taught him quite a lot about her.

One of those things being the amount of sadness on her face whenever he’d ask her how classes went for her whenever he picked her up from school (he loathed the traffic in the Philippines with a passion).

She never said it aloud, seeing as she barely spoke English, yet her face — one that told him that she’s indeed his daughter — showed enough for him to understand her struggles.

Barbie loved people. She was attached to the hips with the sisters in the orphanage and now that she was a part of the Vettel family, Sebastian and Bel assumed that she’d easily get along with them and her peers at the private school.

Oh how wrong they were. The first month of high school told the couple enough that she wasn’t coping well nor adjusting— her peers in school didn’t make her feel less isolated and she was often found alone during the break, her teachers told them.

Sebastian and Bel hated being so helpless. Sebastian was due to start his season soon, and all he wanted to do was ease Barbie into the life she was introduced to. He wanted her to have many friends and have fun. What else was there for him to do?

Right.

A race passed by so quickly and the second round of the season started for the Red Bull driver when Sebastian and Bel flew her to Malaysia with her nanny, Angie. Or rather, Sebastian anticipated his wife’s arrival with Barbie and Angie in the hotel and found himself grinning at the sight of Barbie as the girl’s eyes brightened at the sight of Sebastian.

Barbie waved at him before Sebastian approached the girls and wrapped one arm around Barbie’s shoulder. It was a gesture that Barbie truly appreciated— Sebastian’s hug — and it was something she couldn’t deny herself such a gesture if he offered it.

Their first day in Malaysia consisted of touring the nearby attractions and buying souvenirs. Bel and Sebastian tried to coax Barbie into buying more than what she asked for— they knew that she was simply being humble and while they appreciated it they wished for her to ask for more. But alas, their attempt didn’t work as well as they had hoped.

Their second day was the very beginning of Sebastian’s race week in Malaysia. Barbie’s VIP pass slung over her neck as she walked side by side with Sebastian and Bel as the Red Bull driver taught her everything there was to the facilities and areas of the track during the race week— including the paddock.

Cameras took photos of the Vettel couple. The sight of the girl, however, was new for the media outlets as they captured some images of the girl as well while she listened attentively to Sebastian. It spooked her off— having her photos taken like she was a public figure and a celebrity— that she decided to hide a little more behind Sebastian and held onto the hem of his shirt as they both made their way around the grid.

Bel, noticing the behaviour of the girl, looked around and saw the cameras before she nudged Sebastian and gestured to the photographers subtly.

Sebastian had taken notice of what was happening as he leaned towards Britta— who walked alongside him and his family — and asked, “Can you please tell them not to take some photos, please Britta? It scares Barbie.”

Britta, his dear manager who’s done everything to keep him on a leash, nodded before walking off to handle the situation. Sebastian eventually led Bel and Barbie back to the Red Bull hospitality— where they found a group of blondes standing and chatting with other Red Bull staff.

“Oh hey! You guys are here!” Bel exclaimed, making Barbie flinch slightly at the tone of her foster mother’s voice.

Barbie could only observe their faces and it was safe to assume that they were relatives. The young boy looked about Barbie’s age and he looked… kind? Or cute. Barbie wasn’t sure.

But Sebastian and Bel knew these people so much that they could immediately tell Barbie that she would get along with the boy— that the boy was a kind one.

The older woman and another girl, one that looked a bit older than Barbie, chatted with Bel and Seb gleefully. Barbie wasn’t sure what it was about seeing as she was approached by the boy immediately.

“Hi,” he said with a smile, sticking his hand out as he introduced himself. “My name is Mick. I know Sebastian. What’s your name?”

Barbie’s face flushed, unable to answer the boy while she worried about what to answer. She was still learning English— and so this was very difficult for her.

“I— m—“ Barbie paused, looking at Sebastian and Bel for help. Her nanny was nowhere in sight, as well. She looked back at the boy— Mick, who tilted his head with an expectant look as she answered, “Barbie.”

“Barbie?” Mick’s blue eyes shrunk for a moment as he squinted and looked down at her Prada bag — one that Seb had bought her recently. “Like your bag— pink Barbie?”

“Mick,” the older woman chastised, “be nice, okay?”

“Mom, I’m just asking about her bag! She said her name is Barbie so I asked if that meant her bag— kind of like Barbie pink!” Mick reasoned out before Seb and the older woman looked at each other with a teasing smile.

“Yes Mick, that’s her name,” Bel answered for the girl, offering the boy a smile. “Barbara is actually her name and you’re going to have to bear with her— she doesn’t speak English as much yet.”

“Oh,” Mick uttered. “So how do I speak to her?”

“She can understand but not speak it, stupid,” the girl snorted, making Mick shoot her a glare before the girl approached Barbie. “Hello! I’m Gina— I’m this idiot’s sister.”

“Hi,” Barbie nodded politely.

“Hör auf, mich dumm zu nennen, Gina,” stop calling me stupid, Gina. Mick muttered in annoyance, the foreign words making Barbie pause and tilt her head in confusion.

The adults chuckled before Sebastian reached out to mess with Mick’s hair with a grin. “Ugh, Seb! Don’t do that!”

“You kids,” Sebastian tutted with a cheeky grin. “You know what? Why don’t you guys take Barbie around the track or paddock?”

Barbie’s eyes widened as she looked at Sebastian with a warning look, leaving the man to shrug, “You’ll like it around here, liebling— I think you’re going to get tired of having adults around all the time so Mick and Gina are here!”

“Absolutely,” Bel nodded with a smile, “besides, you’ll spend a lot more time with the two of them.”

Barbie shot her parents a puzzled look before Bel explained, “Mga kaibigan namin ‘yong nanay at tatay nila Mick at Gina.” We are friends with Mick and Gina’s parents. “Gets?”

Barbie nodded in agreement before asking, “Hindi ba puwede dito na lang ako?” Can I not just stay here?

“Puwede pero,” Bel paused, “nagtataka kami kung bakit tahimik ka sa school. Sabi ng teacher mo hindi ka daw nakikipagsocialize sa iba — they don’t want to, right?” You can but we’ve been wondering why you’re quiet at school. Your teacher said that you’re not socializing with others. “This is for your good, Barbie. Mabait yung dalawa and you’ll get along with them well.” The two (Gina and Mick) are nice.

Barbie looked back at the two blond kids with hesitation, but their smiles reached their ears as they spoke to their mother and Sebastian — it was no doubt that they were, indeed, kind.

Meanwhile, out of Barbie’s earshot, Mick asked his mother Corinna and Sebastian something that piqued his curiosity, “What language are they speaking, Mom? Seb?”

“Bel’s first language, duh,” Gina replied. “Taga- Tag-a-log? Is that right, Seb?”

Sebastian nodded, “Tagalog— Filipino— it’s Bel’s first language.”

“How come she can’t speak English?” Mick asked, referring to the girl.

“Some people can’t speak it well, Mick,” Corinna replied. “Remember she’s from a different country— like you are.”

“But I can speak English,” Mick pointed out.

Sebastian laughed at the boy’s comments as he said, “Barbie’s life is a bit more… complicated than ours, Mick. All you need to know is that she’s learning to speak English and if you kids don’t mind— help her out a little bit. Be friends with her.”

“She’s a very good girl,” Sebastian added. “I think you three would make a good chaos in the paddock once you start driving in the grid, Mick.”

“Eh, I don’t cause chaos,” Mick protested.

“Thus, he lied again,” Gina joked before nodding at Sebastian, “okay well, I’m taking her with me for some ice cream. It’s hot in here.” Then she walked off, approaching the Filipino girl to invite her for a walk around the paddock. The pair then left and waved goodbye at Bel and the adults.

Mick’s eyes widened, his bright pupils widening as well as he rushed after the two and exclaimed, “W- Oi! Wait for me, Gina!”

The adults looked at each other with knowing smiles, adoring the teenagers and their presence.

“So,” Corinna Schumacher grinned, “Bel, Seb— tell me how’s it been with Barbie at home so far!”

The red bean ice cream on her cup was melting, all thanks to the weather in the circuit. That— and Mick’s excited tone as he spoke about the sport. Barbie was too drawn to and curious about anything that the Schumacher siblings were talking about.

“Dad actually knew Seb since he was a kid! You should ask him about the photos of him and Dad on his races back then,” Mick grinned before saying, “I also race but I’m not in this level of competition… yet.”

“Ah,” Barbie nodded, eating her ice cream while both Gina and Mick devoured their pandan flavoured ice cream.

“How about you?” Mick asked with a smile. “What do you like to do?”

Barbie hummed quietly and answered the best that she could, “I like to cook.” Her accent wasn’t as thick, but it was different.

“You’re a chef,” Mick nodded in approval, “I like that. I like food.”

“Ooh! Like that food Angie made before,” Gina piped up with an enthusiastic grin. “Chicken adobo. There’s a lot but that cuisine? Divine.”

As they chatted amongst themselves, Barbie couldn’t help but smile and nod. She’d sometimes pull up her phone to translate some things to interact with them if she couldn’t speak her thoughts out in her second language. And if Google translate was wrong, Gina and Mick would correct it and help her learn the sentence.

The way they spoke of her culture was… endearing. It was as if they were trying their best to understand who Barbie was and for the first time, Barbie felt like she belonged for once. Not even her peers in the Philippines were friendly like this.

She could get used to travelling with Sebastian and meeting with the Schumachers. Hell, she could get used to being best friends with them.

She wouldn’t mind being best friends with them.

And it seemed like Mick Schumacher was going to be stuck with her forever. They just didn’t know it yet.

♡ moony’s reminder 🅶 (general): @hiraethrhapsody @avaleineandafryingpan

#formula one imagine #f1 imagine #sebastian vettel fic #sebastian vettel imagine #sebastian vettel #sebastian vettel fanfic #sv5 #red bull seb #formula one x oc #sebastian vettel fluff #formula one dad #formula one fanfiction #formula 1 fluff #mick schumacher imagine #mick schumacher fluff #ms47 #mick schumacher

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crazyunsexycool · 1 month

Text

Unbreakable

Chapter 9

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Word Count: 6.3k

Warning: Some angst-iness, fluff, SMUUUTTTTTT, badly written smut, oral (fem. receiving), p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), implied depression (Idk if it's well depicted)

A/N: These two ugh!!! my heart can't take it. They finally take their relationship to the next (physical level). Also I hated that in the infinity saga no one checked up on Thor so I'm changing that too.

Series Masterlist

“I can’t believe you.” You look over at Lisa with a scowl. “I thought we were friends.”

“I guess we aren’t anymore.”

You scoff and look back down at the table. Lisa had never seen you upset let alone pissed off. She couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up.

“Just take the cards, you drama queen.” Lisa urges you.

“I can’t believe you stacked all of those draw twos against me.”

“C’mon sweetheart, it’s just a game. Take your cards.”

You tilt your head to the side and look at Steve. “Just a game? I’ll have you know I’ve never lost a game of Uno before.” You say before you smile. “And I’m not about to now.” You add another draw two card to the pile.

Steve groans but has to grab a total of ten cards.

“It’s just a game, sweetheart.” You smile.

“Who knew she was so competitive?”

“All I know is we’re burning the Uno cards after this round.” Nat said before taking a sip of her beer.

You had finally introduced Lisa and Cassie to Nat and the three of them had hit it off. So now whenever the five of you had a free night someone would host game night. This week it was Lisa and Cassie’s night to host. Their home was lovely, something you hoped to have one day. You saw the same kind of awe in Steve’s eyes as he took in the modern yet cozy living space.

“You know what they say, if you can’t stand the heat.”

Nat rolls her eyes as she places a card down.

“I’m gonna take you down.”

“Good luck Red.” You winked at her. Nat shook her head but smiled at the nickname. Something you’d started calling her when you felt more comfortable in your friendship.

The game went on for a few more turns.

“Uno.” You shout and soon enough you place the last card down. “Yes! I am undefeated.”

You do a little happy dance while the others groan. This was at least the fourth game you’d won in a row. Cassie throws a balled up napkin at your head and you laugh. After picking up all of the cards and helping to clean up Nat excuses herself for the night. Soon enough you and Steve do the same with a promise of getting together again soon.

****

“Thank you for coming tonight.” You tell Steve as you stand on the steps of your apartment building.

“I wouldn’t have missed it. It was fun and I think Nat really needed it as well.”

“Yeah,” you nod but your mood shifts. “I worry about her. If we don’t drag her out she’d stay at the compound or go out on missions forever.”

“Some people are finding different ways to cope.”

“Yeah.”

“I was lucky enough to find the most amazing person to help me through my bad days.” Steve says as he places his hands on your hips and pulls you flush against him.

You smile as your hands come up to rest on his chest.

“Oh really?”

“Really.” Steve mumbled before closing the distance between your lips and giving you a sweet kiss. When he pulled back you chased him for a couple of more quick pecks. “So listen.” He says once you’ve both been satisfied. “I was wondering if you could take a few days off in like a week or so.”

“Probably. What for?”

“I am going to visit a friend and I was wondering if you wanted to go with me.”

“Oh,” you can’t help but feel giddy at the thought of meeting another of Steve’s friends. “I’ll see what days I can take and let you know.”

“Perfect. Is Marvin good on planes?”

You both look down at Marvin who was sitting by your feet patiently waiting for the night to end. “I don’t know, we’ve never been on a plane together before. But he should be ok. I’ll do some research to see what I can do to make him comfortable during the flight.”

“Ok. Perfect, I’ll talk to you later.”

“Text me when you get home.”

Steve gives you another kiss. “Always.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too sweetheart.”

You’re all smiles as you walk into the building and up to your apartment.

When Steve said you two were taking a trip you thought it would be on a commercial flight. Instead the two of you, and Marvin, were in the jet Nat used for missions. The plan was that she would take you to your destination, stay unless she was needed for a mission, and come back to pick you up. It wasn’t what you were expecting but you appreciated the privacy.

“Are you ready for take off?” Steve asks as he double checks your seatbelt.

“Yeah. How long is the flight?”

“A few hours.”

“Ok, cool. Are you going to let me use you as a pillow if I fall asleep?”

Steve smiles as he sits next to you. “Of course you can sweetheart.”

“Are you two ready?” Nat turns her head to look back at you.

You and Steve nod.

“Alright. It should be a few short hours so strap in lovebirds.”

****

It was an almost 9 hour flight. Marvin was the first to hop out of the jet in order to stretch his legs. Steve grabs your bags while you walk around with Marvin and then head down to the village you’ll be staying at. You were surprised when you saw the sign that said New Asgard. Steve and Nat had both told you about Thor and how he had brought his people to earth when their home was destroyed.

“Captain Rogers, Black Widow.” A woman met the three of you at the village entrance. There were people working and walking around, their attention going to the four of you.

“Please call me Nat.”

“I’m Steve. This is Y/N, my girlfriend.” He introduced you. “And that’s Marvin.” He points towards the dog sitting at your feet.

“Are you an avenger too?”

“No,” you shook your head. “I’m only here for moral support.”

“I’m Brunnhilde. C’mon I’ll show you where you’ll be staying.”

The three of you follow her until you get to a cottage. Brunnhilde lets you in and hands over the key.

“You should settle down for the night. I’ll take you to see him tomorrow but you should know that he isn’t doing well.”

You say your good nights and start to settle for the night. Nat takes one room and Steve ushers you to the other one.

“I’ll take the couch.” He says as sets your bags down just past the doorway.

“What? Why? The bed is big enough for the two of us.”

“I know but I didn’t want to assume you’d want to share a bed.”

You smile up at Steve and wrap your arms around his midsection. “Thank you for your consideration but I would like it very much if you stayed with me.”

“Are you sure?”

“Very sure.” You reach up to give Steve a quick kiss, one he accepts happily.

“The bathroom’s free.” Nat calls from down the hallway.

You and Steve each take a shower, have a quick dinner and head to bed for the night.

You were sitting at the kitchen table with Nat and Steve just having breakfast and talking over the plans for the day.

“I think the two of you should go ahead. Thor might not want to meet anyone new.” You said before taking a sip of your coffee.

“I don’t want you to be here alone.”

“Don’t worry about it. Marvin and I can go explore the village center. You two go see Thor and we can meet here in the afternoon.”

“Are you sure?” Steve asks as he stands to place his plate in the sink. “I’m more than ok if you join us.”

“I’m sure. Now go.”

With Nat and Steve gone you finish getting ready yourself. Double checking that you have everything in your bag you grab Marvin’s leash and head out.

****

New Asgard was beautiful. There were still things that needed to be done but the Asgardians had accomplished so much in the time they had been on earth. You took a stroll around the village center and ended around the rocky shore. It was early and vacant enough that you took off Marvin’s vest and leash to let him run around freely. You grabbed the ball you always carried in your bag for him and threw it far enough for him to chase. Of course it wasn’t as far Steve could throw it so he came back quickly. Marvin wagged his tail as he followed your movements to grab the ball again and throw it.

“How are you enjoying New Asgard?” You turn to see Brunnhilde walking up to you.

“It’s beautiful. I’m sure it’s not as beautiful as the original though.”

She looks back and nods.

“I’m sorry. I can’t imagine losing my home like that.”

She gives you a tight lipped smile before her eyes move to look at something behind you. “Marvin, right?”

“Yup.”

Marvin walks past you and lays the ball at her feet. He sits back and waits patiently for the ball to be thrown again. Brunnhilde takes it and launches it further than you had and Marvin is one happy dog as he runs full speed in order to find his target.

“So do you work with Steve and Nat?” She asks as the two of you decide to sit and wait for Marvin.

“No. I could never be an avenger.” You shake your head. “I don't think I’d last a day in the field and I’m probably a bit high maintenance.”

“High maintenance?”

“Yeah, I don’t think I could go days without a working bathroom. And you know the whole getting shot at or beaten up. I’m here for moral support and taking care of Steve and Nat when they come back from their missions.”

“Well that role is just as important.” Brunnhilde says with a smile.

“I mean I can kick some ass. They’ve taught me self defense.”

“Really?” She raises a brow and has a smirk that says trouble.

“Yes.”

“Would you like to spar? I promise it will be an easy round. Maybe I can teach you something too.”

You smile and nod. “I’d love that.”

“I’ll meet you at the cottage in 15 minutes then.” She says and leaves.

You call Marvin back and head to the cottage and change into more athletic clothes.

****

By the time Steve and Nat finally get back to the house you and Brunnhilde have finished your impromptu training session and are sitting side by side talking and drinking some water.

“What were you up to while we were out?” Steve asks as he walks in through the front door.

“Sparring. I learned some new moves.”

Steve nods, impressed that you wanted to learn more. “You sure you don’t want to be on the team? We could use all the help we can get.”

“Nope. I’m fine being your cheerleader and nurse.”

Steve smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes and you notice immediately.

“I’ll see you later.” Brunnhilde excuses herself and leaves the three of you alone.

“I’m assuming things didn’t go well with Thor?”

Steve sighs as he takes the seat next to you while Nat makes herself comfortable in an armchair.

“I wasn’t expecting him to be the jovial person he was when we first met but seeing him like this was heartbreaking.” Steve says.

“Initially he didn’t even want to see us. It took us a few minutes to get him to open the door. When we finally got inside he didn’t want to listen to what we had to say.” Nat adds.

You placed a hand on Steve’s back and moved it up and down in a soothing manner.

“I’m sorry guys. But we’re here a few more days right? You can try again. All you can do is let him know that he isn’t alone, even though he feels that way.”

“Yeah, I know. It just feels a bit hopeless.” Steve murmurs.

“You’ll figure it out and I’m right here to support you in whatever way you need.” You turn to look at Nat. “Both of you.”

Nat gave you a tight lipped smile. She’s been under a lot of pressure lately. Most of it she put on herself. It was wearing her down, you could see it.

“I’m gonna go shower. I’ll be right back.”

****

Just as you’re done getting dressed Nat knocks on your door. You open it and see her dressed in her uniform.

“You’re leaving?”

“Yeah, Rhodey needs some backup.”

“Is Steve going too?” you ask, suddenly anxious about being left alone in another country.

“No, but he’s going to walk me to the jet. He’ll be right back.”

You nod and give Nat a hug.

“Be safe and come back.”

“I will. Have fun will you?” She steps back and smiles. “See you in a day or so.”

After spending a great afternoon together, you and Steve settled down for the night. He was sitting in bed sketching while you stared at yourself in the bathroom mirror. You took in a deep breath and tried to calm your nerves. This was supposed to be what you hoped was the next step in your relationship. You apply some lip gloss and make sure you look your best before walking back toward the bedroom you were sharing and stand at the doorway.

“Hey sweetheart, are you ready for bed or were you going to read some more?” Steve asks without looking up from his sketch.

“Nope.”

At your reply Steve looks up and drops his pencil and his jaw. You were wearing a light blue silk slip with lace trim that barely made it to the top of your thigh. Steve’s eyes moved all over your frame and he shifted to try and adjust the quickly growing tent in his pants. It would be a lie if Steve said he hadn’t thought about the physical aspect of your relationship. He would never push you to do something you didn’t want to do but he also craved to be close to you in this way. So his eyes were glued to the sway of your hips. His mouth parted slightly in awe that you were standing in front of him looking so beautiful.

Steve swung his legs over the edge of the bed, his legs spread enough so that you could stand in between them. He moved the sketchbook to the nightstand as you placed your hands on his shoulders but he couldn’t stop thinking about touching you, how you clouded his senses in such a mesmerizing way by just being close to him. Slowly Steve brought his hands up to rest on your hips. The scent of your perfume was as delicate and intoxicating as you were and Steve couldn’t help but take in a deep breath in hopes that he could remember it forever.

“You look beautiful.” He finally manages to say as he looks up at you. A bashful smile and a pink tint make their way up to Steve’s face as he compliments you.

You stared at each other for a moment, neither of you moved a muscle. It was obvious what was about to happen. Your heart was thrashing against your ribs as nerves got the better of you.

“Hey,” Steve squeezed your hips. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

You gave him a questioning look and he smiled.

“I can hear your heart beating like crazy. You’re in control ok? We stop when you say stop.”

You smiled and nodded then cupped his face. Steve closed the small distance between you both and kissed you. There had been a few make out sessions in the past but compared to this kiss those were tame. In a bold move you would have never done before you straddled Steve’s lap. You were chest to chest as Steve finally moved his hands respectfully to your low back but then he grabbed your ass. He kneaded your flesh before pulling you closer causing you to moan into the kiss.

“So beautiful.” Steve murmured between kisses down your neck and toward your chest.

His hands move along your thighs until he reaches your slip and starts taking it off. Your breath hitches at such a moment of vulnerability. Steve had never seen you naked so he’s never seen the scars and it scares you that he will be disgusted by them. When he feels you tense against him, Steve stops.

“Hey, talk to me. What’s wrong?”

You run your hands back and forth on his forearms.

“Could we maybe turn off the lights?”

Steve tilts his head slightly to the side as he studies your face. “If that’s what you want. But why?”

“I have scars.”

“You think I won’t want you because of that?” He asks and you nod before turning your head to hide your embarrassment. “Sweetheart, I could never do something like that to you. You know that right?”

“Yes.”

“Then let me show you how you make me feel. How much I love you.”

You finally look back at him and see the sincerity in his eyes. “Ok.” You say softly and are rewarded with a beautiful smile.

Steve grabs the hem of your slip and slowly drags it up your body and over your head, leaving you in only a pair of lacy underwear.

“Just as I thought.” Steve murmurs. “Perfect.”

He kisses your lips before moving back down to your chest where the first scar is. The one that represents how you almost died. Steve places a kiss there before he gives your breasts attention. A hand kneading one and his mouth on the other, tongue swirling and flicking your nipple. You moan and arch, pushing your chest closer to him. It startles you when Steve stands while still holding on to you and gently places you on the bed. His eyes are filled with lust and love. With every move he makes Steve checks in with you to make sure you’re comfortable and it warms your heart.

Steve starts by kissing in the valley between your breasts. Every scar he finds he kisses, and there are many. His hands are gentle as they caress every inch of your body they can reach. Steve’s hands sit at your hips, playing with the edge of your panties. There’s a bit of embarrassment that you were already so wet and that Steve could see the mark of your arousal in the form of a wet patch on your underwear.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” He asks.

“Yes, please Steve, I want to be with you. I trust you.”

Steve smiled at your words and he slowly pulled down your panties. Now you were laying there completely bare for him. It made you want to hide but you also wanted this, more than that you needed him. And with the look he was giving you, you knew he felt the same. Steve doesn’t waste any time and settles between your thighs. His lips start a trail on your inner thigh before moving to the other. Steve places a kiss on your mound and you whine before propping yourself on your elbows and looking down at him and finding a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Stop being a tea-ah.” Your head falls backwards as Steve licks a long stripe from your dripping hole up to your clit. He groans as he finally gets a taste of you.

Steve takes his time with you. He swirls his tongue around your clit and gives you just enough attention to push you to the edge but not over, not yet. Then Steve begins to tease your entrance with a finger before pushing in. You moan and buck your hips against him looking for more of him. Steve adds another finger and continues at a steady pace. Your hands fist the bedsheet the closer you get to your first orgasm.

“So close. Please…” You whimper and roll your hips.

“Let go for me, sweetheart.” Steve says as he curves his fingers and adds pressure to your g-spot, his lips wrapped around your sensitive bundle of nerves.

You gasp and tense as Steve pushes you over the edge. Steve helps you through your high. When you open your eyes you’re met with his smiling face.

“Hi.” You whisper and he chuckles.

“Hi. How are you feeling?”

“So good.”

“Yeah?” Steve’s eyes are bright and so is his smile.

“Yeah.”

You caress his cheek and pull him down to kiss him, moaning when you taste yourself on his tongue. Your hands move over Steve’s chest and wrap around his midsection. Muscles tense and relax under your touch as he moves to hover over you.

“Sweetheart, I don’t have any protection.”

“It’s ok. I’m on birth control and I’m clean.” You murmur between kissing his jawline.

“You’re sure you want this?”

You smile. “I am.”

Steve pulls away from you to undress. He first takes off his shirt and you bite your bottom lip as he continues to undress. Steve smirks when he sees you press your thighs together as he slides his sweats off staying in only a pair of boxer briefs. You sit up and reach out to touch him. Your hands lands on his abs, just above the elastic of his underwear. He takes your hand and plants a kiss on your knuckles.

“Steve I want to-“

“Maybe next time. Right now it’s about you.”

You shake your head. “It’s about both of us.”

“Sweetheart, trust me when I tell you that just being here,” Steve pushes you to lay back down. You spread your legs and let him settle in between them. “with you like this, is more than enough for me.” He kisses your neck again and moves up to your jaw. “I want to make love to you, show you how much you mean to me.” He murmurs as he pushes his boxers down.

You look in between your bodies and your jaw falls slack. Steve is big, and although you had assumed he would be, now you weren’t sure he would fit.

“We’ll go slow ok?” Steve says as if reading your mind.

You look back up at him and nod before your lips are on his again. Steve takes himself in his hand and moves up and down your slit. The head of his cock putting pressure on your sensitive clit. Steve groans as he collects your slick and then spreads it along his hardened length. You tense as Steve lines himself up with your entrance and looks at you one more time. He can see the momentary panic in your eyes and stops.

“Sweetheart.”

“Hhmm.” You look up at him with wide panicked filled eyes.

“It’s just you and me, nothing else matters. I love you.”

“I love you too.” You said but Steve could tell that you were still tense.

He pulls back and pulls you up with him. Steve moves to sit against the headboard and has you straddling his lap. He gives you quick kisses before looking at you.

“You’re in control. We do what you feel comfortable doing. Take what you want, sweetheart. I’m all yours.”

That made you want to melt into a puddle. You moved closer to him, eyes trained on his lust blown ones. This was so much better and although Steve could overpower you, you knew he would never do that. With a new wave of determination you slip your hand between your bodies and take his hard, throbbing cock in your hand. You slowly move your hand up and down collecting the precum already at the tip and spreading it. Steve groans at your touch and wills himself not to thrust into your fist.

“Now who’s the tease?” He murmurs.

You smirk and line yourself up. Slowly you start to lower yourself on his length. A small gasp falls from your lips as your hands land on Steve’s chest. His hands are on your hips as he helps you slowly move up and down until you're fully wrapped around him.

“So full.” You mutter through shallow breaths. “Feels so good.”

Steve smiles before kissing you. He’s gentle and loving and the delicious stretch as he You focus on Steve and his expression of pure bliss as you flutter around him.

“Fuck, you’re so wet for me, baby.” Steve kisses you.

You slowly roll your hips slowly and gasp. With every gentle kiss, every praise that falls from his lips, Steve washes away any negative thought and insecurity you had. You relax more and soon you begin to really enjoy this moment. Steve’s mouth is on your breast and his attention to your pebbled peak combined with a roll of his hips has you digging your nails into his chest.

“So fucking tight.” Steve says with a grunt. “You feel so good.”

You can only moan in response as you continue to bounce on his cock. There was nothing but the sound of skin against skin, wet sloppy kisses, whimpers and groans of pleasure. It didn’t take long for you to reach your second orgasm. Steve did that, he gave you everything you didn’t know you needed in such an intimate and vulnerable moment. He lets you find your rhythm in your pleasure without forcing you. His words were somehow filthy when he praised you for being his good girl but also tender. He pushed his own needs and wants to the side to make sure you were happily satiated first. With his hands on your hips he helps in your movements.

“You’re so close, sweetheart. I can feel it, they way you’re gripping me.” He murmurs in your ear and that sends a shiver down your spine. His voice is so low when he tells you that you can let go.

You can’t help but to do as he says while Steve slows down to help you through your high. When the haziness finally begins to fade and you blink away the stars behind your eyelids, you focus on Steve and cup his face.

“Your turn.” You murmur. “Fill me up, Stevie. I need it.”

Steve flips you in your back and sits back on his haunches, his eyes are lust filled. With his hands on your hips Steve pulls you closer to him, leaving only your back and shoulders on the bed. Steve picks up his pace and as he pistons into you he starts to rub tight circles around your swollen clit. Your hands grip the sheets as Steve finally cums with a grunt of your name. You follow close behind him.

“Fuck.” Steve lowers himself hovering you again and hiding his face in the crook of your neck. You move your hand up and down Steve’s back in a soothing manner.

After a minute or so Steve pulls out and then turns to lay on his back bringing you to lay on top of him. You can’t help but sniffle and cuddle closer to him, hiding your face against Steve’s chest.

“Sweetheart? Are you ok?” Steve asks, concerned. He could feel the tear drop on his skin. “Oh no, did I hurt you? I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to.”

Steve turns again so that you’re laying on your back again and he can check for any injuries.

“No, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to cry and ruin all of this.”

“You aren’t ruining anything, sweetheart but talk to me.”

“These are happy tears, I promise.” You look up at Steve through tear soaked lashes. “You make me happy. I was just overwhelmed for a moment.”

Steve breathes a sigh of relief and rests his forehead against yours.

“You make me happy too.”

The next morning had been a blissful one, waking up in Steve’s arms. He had been gentle then too. You had no fear in being with him again. It was your choice, every move you made and every touch was because you wanted to. There had been a part of you that had feared you’d never be able to be intimate with someone again but you were more than happy that it was with Steve. As much as you would have loved to stay in bed for longer, you had to take Marvin out for his morning walk even though Steve grumbled. He promised breakfast would be on the table by the time you got back.

You head back to the beach area where you’d let Marvin run free the day before with the intention of doing it again. The Asgardians are already up and working to expand their village. Some smile and greet you as you pass by. Once you’re at your destination you take off Marvin’s vest and throw the ball you’d brought with you. After taking a few steps forward movement to your left gets your attention and you flinch.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

This was Thor. His beard had grown out, his hair was disheveled and he was starting to grow a beer belly but he was still recognizable. From all the stories Steve had told you though, he barely seemed like the god of thunder everyone seemed to admire. He was more like a shell of his former self. But you’d been there, in that darkness that pulled you apart and made you feel less than so you understood that he was struggling. It was why Steve and Nat wanted to come in the first place, to remind him that he wasn’t alone.

“Don’t worry, I didn’t see you there.” You smile at him. Just then Marvin stops at your feet with the ball in his mouth. You take it and throw it again. “I’m Y/N.”

“Lady Y/N, you are who Rogers is courting then?”

“Yes.” You smile just at the mention of Steve.

“Well, it is a pleasure to meet you. I’m glad he was able to find someone to settle down with.” Thor gives you a sad barely there smile before his eyes move from yours to the ocean. “I should go.” Thor murmurs as he turns back towards the village.

“Join us for breakfast.” You say to him before he can retreat into his home. “Please.”

“I couldn’t impose.”

“You’re not. I’m inviting you. You don’t even have to talk about anything you don’t want to. Just breakfast with an old friend, and a new one.”

Thor turned around to look at you. He was assessing the sincerity in your words before he gave a small nod. You smile and call Marvin. Much to his dismay you put the best back on and promise to come back to the beach later. You lead the way, walking silently side by side with Thor until you reach the cottage you’d been staying in.

“Just in time sweetheart, breakfast is almost ready.” Steve called out from the kitchen.

“We have a guest, hun.”

“Oh?” Steve pokes his head out from the kitchen and he smiles when he sees Thor. “I’m glad you’re here. I’ll be right out.”

“Sit, please.” You tell Thor.

He takes a seat at the table, his eyes glued to it. You sit across from him just as Steve sets a mug of coffee down in front of you and another in front of Thor. Steve sends a wink your way and heads back to the kitchen coming in with three plates.

Breakfast is rather quiet and awkward. Steve had tried to start a conversation with Thor but the latter would just give one word replies.

“So Thor,” you say, trying to get anything out of him. “What’s Steve like out on missions?”

That seemed to be the right question to ask as Thor finally looked up at you and began to talk about working with Steve and the other Avengers.

****

It had been about half an hour later and Thor was chuckling with Steve. It was nice to see both of them look more lively.

“And then as these men lined up I raised my hammer and hit Roger’s shield with it, sending a bolt of lighting right at them. We took about 8 men down in one blow.” Thor smiles. “Good times.” He says before his smile fades and that sadness you’d seen comes back.

“They really were.”

“If we could only go back.” Thor murmured, his gaze distant.

You look at Steve and tilt your head toward the small hallway, letting him know you’d be giving them privacy. Marvin gets up and follows you and you can only hope that Steve can somehow make Thor believe that what happened wasn’t his fault.

Steve ran his hand up and down your arm as he called your name softly. Apparently between giving him and Thor privacy and reading the book you’d brought with you on the trip you’d fallen asleep. So when you blinked owlishly at him, Steve chuckled.

“Hey there sleepy head.” He says softly.

Some of his blond hair falling forward, blue eyes sparking just for you. It made you sigh happily as his eyebrow raised in amusement.

“You’re so pretty.”

Steve laughs but you can see him blush. You smile before sitting up and stretching your arms up above your head.

“How is your talk with Thor going?”

“It went ok. He left already.” Steve sighs as he lays down, placing his head on your lap.

You start playing with his hair as he tells you about the conversation. It was obvious from what Steve told you that Thor blamed himself for everything. Just how Steve and Nat needed to hear that what Thanos did wasn’t their fault, Thor needed to hear it too.

“But I don’t know, he seemed so defeated and I’ve never seen him like that before.”

“He has lost everything, including his immediate family. It couldn’t have been easy for him. Then he comes to earth and loses another battle. As long as you continue to be there for him, maybe come back and visit him, that’s all you can do.” You tell him.

“That’s why you’re the brains in this relationship.”

“And the brawns.” You add while lifting your arms and flexing your muscles. Steve laughs and you join in.

“Definitely, but does that make me?” He asks, amused.

“Eye candy of course.”

“So you’re only with me for my looks?” Steve clutches his chest. “You wound me.”

“Of course I am. Have you seen your ass?”

At that Steve turns crimson and he has to look away although he still smiles. After an easy silence settles between you two, you speak up.

“I’m glad I met you when I did because I was in the same place Thor is now. I don’t think you even realize how much you helped me out of it. That’s why I know you’ll be able to help him too. And sometimes all you can do is be there for him. So don’t feel like you failed Thor if he isn’t his thundery old self.”

Steve sighs as he thinks about what you’ve said. He watches as you move around until you practically lay on top of him completely. You wiggle your arms between him and the mattress and give him the best hug you can.

Steve wasn’t one for naps. But at the moment with how emotionally draining his conversation with Thor had been and the comfort of your weight and affection pinning him in place he couldn’t help but doze off.

Too soon for your liking Nat had returned to pick you up. She was a bit bruised but nothing she couldn’t handle. So Steve grabbed your bags and together you met her at the jet. Surprisingly Brunnhilde was also there having a conversation with Nat.

“Thank you for receiving us.” Steve says as he shakes her hand. “I hope I can come back soon.”

“You’re always welcome here. I think it was good for Thor to see you.”

Steve gives a small nod and her attention moves from him to you. You smile brightly at her.

“I hope to see you again as well.”

“Definitely, maybe we can even spar again.”

“Absolutely.” Brunnhilde nods before she pulls something out of her pocket. “For you.” She holds out a pouch in her hand.

“What is it?”

“A blade of course.” She opens the pouch to reveal a small dagger in its leather holster. She grabs the hilt which was made of gold and pulls it out to show you a slightly iridescent blade.

“A dagger?” You say as you take it and look at it closely. The blade had writing carved into it and the hilt was extremely comfortable. “It’s beautiful, thank you.”

“It is a weapon used by the Valkyrie. It’s made of the highest quality of Asgardian metal.”

“I can’t keep this, it’s yours.”

You look at her and hold the blade out for Brunnhilde to take back. She holds up her hand and waves you off.

“It should continue to do its job.”

“Thank you, again, for everything. I’ll keep in touch ok?”

Brunnhilde smiles and brings you in for a hug. Surprisingly Thor shows up just before you, Nat and Steve get on the jet. They share a private moment as former teammates, a friends, before Thor turns his attention to you. He gives a soft, sad smile and thanks you for your visit. You inform him that there’s a place for him to stay if he wishes to visit New York. Then much to Steve’s faux annoyance Thor takes your hand and places a kiss on your knuckles.

“Safe travels, M’lady.”

“Thank you Thor, I hope to see you soon.”

With a final wave goodbye you move to get on the jet with Marvin. Steve sits next to you and you both settle for the flight back home. All in all you would say it was a rather successful trip.

Ch. 10

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