#i was talking abt this with angel a second ago but it's just part of the reiner and jean parallel that makes me enjoy writing them the most | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

girlygguk · 3 days

Text

crazy; jjk (m)

summary you know it sounds twisted. that most people would see hyungwon as the perfect boyfriend. healthy, balanced, all the things that relationships should be. that’s when you realized... you weren't like most people. but that's okay. because neither is jungkook.

pairing ceo!jk x employee!(f)reader

rating 18+ minors dni; smut, fluff, angst

genre coworkers to lovers au, established relationship

word count 15.5k

content jk 29 | yn 26, very jealous controlling and possessive jk, same for oc, spirited & bratty oc, jk is rich and spoils his girl, pet names, toxic relo, jk is a red flag, oc is a red flag, they’re obsessed w each other, bonnie n clyde ride or die type shit, soft yandere, drama, mc arguments, cursing, they get angry quick and over it quicker, bar fighting, jk punches a guy.. or two, blood, oc is roughly grabbed on arm by a male w/o consent, canon couple

warnings dom jk, sub oc, pre established traffic light sw system, daddy kink, consensual degradation, fingering (f rec), oral (f rec), cum eating, dirty talk, breeding kink, condomless p in v sex, oc has a birth control implant, multiple orgasms, creampie, kinda rough(?) sex but i think it ends quite softly, theyre dirty and in love!

a/n pls read all the warnings first & only proceed if ur comfortable!! these two are superr obsessively dependent and possessive so tread lightly baby 🙂‍↕️!! im kinda self conscious abt the smut but i like the fic part and i hope u do too <<3 lemme know if i missed any tags 🖤 mwah

There was something dangerous about him. Something you couldn’t help but be drawn to, no matter how much you knew you shouldn’t. It was like playing with fire—intoxicating, thrilling… stupid.

You knew it complicated things, maybe even made life harder, but you never had been one to back down from a challenge. And when someone like Jeon Jungkook—the kind of man who looked like pure trouble but made you feel more alive than you ever had—walked into your life, resisting him was never even an option.

It hadn’t always been like this. You used to date Park Hyungwon, after all.

Hyungwon was perfectly fine. Kind, sweet, thoughtful in all the ways that made him a good guy. The type who held open doors and asked if you wanted to split dessert. You’d met him through his cousin, Jimin—your colleague and an absolute angel on Earth. In fact, you ended up closer to Jimin than you ever were with Hyungwon.

Because Hyungwon? He was just… ordinary.

There was nothing wrong with ordinary. Some people needed that. They craved stability, predictability. But you? You realized a long time ago that you needed more. You craved intensity. You needed to feel like someone’s whole world. And when your boyfriend didn’t care who you were with, what you were doing, when he didn’t even notice if you went days without texting… well, you started to feel invisible.

You knew it sounded twisted. That most people would see Hyungwon as the perfect boyfriend. Healthy, balanced, all the things that relationships should be. But that’s when you realized... you weren’t like most people.

And then he entered the picture.

Jeon Jungkook, CEO of Jeon Corp, son of the late Jeon Jun-seo.

You’d been at Jeon Corp for three years now, starting as a temp and moving into a more permanent role. Everyone knew him—the young, ruthless leader who took over seamlessly and ran things with an iron grip after his father's passing. People admired him, respected him. Feared him.

It had been two years since you made it official with the man you knew was the epic love of your life. Before that, you were friends with benefits for—what, a week? Maybe less. You both knew right from the start that there was no going back to being just colleagues or fuck-buddies. He consumed you, and you reveled in every second of it.

In the early days of your relationship, you couldn’t help but worry. Maybe your promotion had less to do with your work ethic and more to do with Jungkook lusting for you. It was hard not to question it, especially when he was your boss, and you knew exactly how intense his desire for you was. But Jungkook shut that shit down fast.

He had hundreds of employees under him, most of whom he hadn’t even had a proper conversation with. He’d approached you solely because of your performance—your results catching his attention long before he even knew what you looked like. Jimin had confirmed it.

Still, you loved teasing him about it—how he’d basically been eye-fucking you the entire time during your first real meeting. Jungkook never denied it. He would just give you that cheeky, devilish grin of his, reminding you just how that meeting had concluded—with you, bent right over his desk.

Now, sitting at Lumi’s bar with the soft murmur of conversations and the clink of glasses fading into background noise, your phone buzzed with a new message. A smile tugged at the corners of your lips, heat spreading through your veins as you read his words.

My Love 10:43 PM Why is your location off? Sent with Siri

10:43 PM Turn it on. Now. Sent with Siri

You bit your lip, already imagining the storm brewing inside him. He was driving, and now probably wasn’t the best time to mess with him. But you were still pissed. And the brat in you couldn’t resist poking him just a little more.

You 10:47 PM i'm out, my love.

His reply was immediate, almost before you even hit send.

My Love 10:47 PM Not in the mood baby. Turn it on

You rolled your eyes, stifling a laugh as you took another sip of your drink. You could picture him now, pulling the car over, typing furiously with that adorable, frustrated frown. Oh, he was pissed—but that only made it more fun. You let him stew for a few minutes longer.

You 10:52 PM bad day at work? :(

His next texts came in a flurry, and you could almost feel the heat in them.

My Love 10:52 PM Why the fuck are you taking so long to respond? Who are you with?

10:53 PM You didnt tell me you were going out tonight and I just went all the way to your fucking house to find out you’re not even there? And your car’s gone? You drove to go out??? Are you fucking crazy?

His jealousy stoked a fire inside you. You knew better than to test his patience... but you just couldn’t help yourself.

You pulled up your camera and hit record. It started with your legs—crossed elegantly on the stool, the hem of your little black dress riding up just enough to tease. You let your foot swing, the glossy polish on your toes catching the dim light. The clip was short, but you knew Jungkook would recognize the bar in an instant.

Then, you flipped the camera. Your face came into view, framed by a pout and the neckline of your dress—the replacement for the one he’d ripped clean off you the last time some idiot tried to touch you. Jungkook had beaten the guy to a pulp, of course, which was why you were both banned from JaeJae's nightclub downtown. But you hadn’t cared then, and you certainly didn’t now.

Just before you stopped recording, you made sure the camera caught a glimpse of the arm next to you—the arm belonging to the guy who had been sulking since you brushed off his lame advances. You had been ignoring him ever since you walked in, but apparently, he was as clueless as he was underwhelming.

You hadn’t expected to be at this bar alone. In fact, you were supposed to be home with Jungkook tonight. He’d promised an early finish—four o’clock, to be exact—and you’d planned a cute pamper night for the two of you. Face masks, cheesy rom-coms. You even baked cookies.

But then, three o’clock rolled around, and your phone rang. His voice on the other end was apologetic, practically rehearsed at this point. He had to stay late. Again. Not even just a little late—ten-fucking-thirty late. Two hours past his usual finishing time.

You were livid. He promised you tonight.

You hadn’t even let him finish his sentence before hanging up, ignoring the rapid flood of missed calls and texts as you angrily dumped the chocolate chip cookies in the trash.

You were so pissed you might’ve even made his assistant, Hoseok, cry when Jungkook sent him over to check on you. Poor guy. You’d apologize later. Maybe.

By the time 10:32 hit and your phone was still silent, that pit of anger in your stomach twisted into something much sharper. You pulled up the security cameras at his office—and, of course, the room was empty. His briefcase, his keys… all gone.

He had left work without even telling you.

He always texted you when he was leaving the office. You knew there wasn’t a chance in hell it was infidelity; that wasn’t even a possibility. Cheating wasn’t something either of you entertained. But the silence? The lack of communication? That cut.

Sure, you’d been ignoring his calls ever since he canceled on you… but you were allowed to be pissed right now. He? Was not.

When your doorbell camera alert went off at 10:42, right before you were about to check his location, you felt a mix of relief and annoyance rise in your chest. You pulled up the feed to see him standing there—frustrated, fist clenched around his phone, clearly ready for a confrontation.

But you weren’t home.

You were here, at this grimy, sticky bar. Waiting.

The guy next to you shifted in his seat again, breaking you out of your thoughts. He was still there, lingering, despite your obvious disinterest. But honestly, you were kind of glad he hadn’t left.

Because the response you got from Jungkook when you hit send on that video?

Absolutely fucking perfect.

My Love 10:55 PM I'll be there in five minutes.

10:56 PM And if there is anyone sitting next to you who doesn't have a cunt or the name Park Jimin, theyre fucking dead Y/N

10:56 PM And you’re fucking walking home

You suppressed a laugh as you wiped the sugary remnants of your drink from your lips, knowing better than anyone just how serious he was.

As much as you hated to admit it, you loved the way Jungkook loved you. His possessiveness didn’t bother you. In fact, it drove you wild. That definitely made you as much of a red flag as him. But did you care?

A few minutes passed as you took some selfies and uploaded them to your Instagram story, twirling the straw in your glass absentmindedly. Then you remembered the idiot next to you.

"Oh," you said, clearing your throat. He perked up immediately, pulling his beer away from his lips as he turned toward you, eyes lighting up in anticipation. Gross. "You might want to leave."

His smile faltered, confusion knitting his brow. "What?"

You blinked, tilting your head slightly as if he hadn’t just heard you. Leaning in closer, you repeated yourself. "I said, you might want to leave."

He chuckled, leaning in way too close, his breath hot and stale. “Why would I do that? Sitting next to a pretty thing like you? You look a little bored, baby… I can keep you entertained.”

You suppressed a gag. "Hard pass." You shuddered, pulling back. “But really, my boyfriend’s on his way, and he’s pissed. You might want to move down a seat or two.”

He just laughed, lifting his beer again and taking a long gulp, his eyes creepily never leaving yours. "I can handle myself just fine, sweetheart. It’s hot that you’re worried about me, though."

God. You’d never been drier in your entire life.

"Your funeral," you muttered, rolling your eyes as you turned back to your phone.

A few more minutes passed in silence, and just when you thought the idiot might’ve finally left you alone, you felt him shift again, turning toward you like he was about to start up another conversation. You sighed, not actually wanting to watch another guy get the shit beaten out of him. So, you grabbed your purse and your half-empty glass, ready to leave.

But just as you slid off the stool, his hand wrapped around your arm.

"Where are you going, baby?” His voice dripped with sleaze. “This playing hard-to-get thing was sexy at first, but now it’s getting kinda boring.”

Your stomach turned, and you yanked your arm from his grip, disgust curling your lip. "Eugh, could you be any more of a stereotypical douche? Get a fucking life."

You took a step to leave, but his hand clamped down on your arm again, harder this time.

“You’ve got a mouth on you, huh?” His voice dropped, and a sickening grin spread across his face as his fingers dug deeper into your skin. “That’s okay. I like ’em that way.”

Rage flared in your chest, hot and immediate. Without thinking, your hand swung forward, and the rest of your drink splashed across his smug face. His eyes widened in shock, the liquid dripping off his chin, but you weren’t finished.

Your free hand darted into the outer pocket of your purse, fingers wrapping around the pink pepper spray canister Jungkook bought for you. You whipped it out, aiming the nozzle directly at his face and pressed down hard.

“Fuck!” he screamed, stumbling back, hands flying to his eyes. But you didn’t let up. The adrenaline thrummed in your veins as you kept spraying, ignoring the yelps and curses spilling from his lips as he clawed at his burning face.

“You crazy fucking bitch! Stop!”

“God, you piece of shit!” you yelled, uncaring of the stares now fixed on you. “Don’t ever touch anyone when they don’t want you to! Fucking pig!”

The can felt significantly lighter by the time you finally stopped, and the guy was practically on his knees, whimpering. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the bartender waving security in your direction and your eyes rolled to the back of your head. Typical. He’d been close enough to hear everything, but now he wanted to intervene?

“Cunt,” you muttered under your breath, slamming your empty glass on the bar before turning to leave.

“I’m going, I’m going,” you scoffed as the guard approached, adjusting your purse on your shoulder and smoothing down the hem of your dress. As you turned to walk away, you pulled out your phone, thumb hovering over Jungkook’s contact.

But before you could make it far, a heavy hand pressed into your back, shoving you toward the exit.

“What the fuck are you doing?” you snapped, stumbling as the security guard forced you forward. “I said I’m leaving. I’m just calling my boyfriend. Let go of me, freak—”

“Ma’am, don’t speak to me like that,” the guard growled, his voice deep and commanding. “Get outside, now.”

“I'm going, you big loof. Can you at least let me wait in the bathroom? If my boyfriend sees me standing outside alone, he’s gonna—”

"I don’t care what he’s gonna do to you, ma’am. Keep moving."

You almost laughed. "Do to me?" You were about to tell him how wrong he had it—that he should be the one worried—when suddenly, the hand on your back vanished. You stopped, brushing yourself off, ready to turn and gloat.

But it wasn’t your words that made him let go. It was Jungkook.

Your very angry boyfriend had shoved the guard—who was easily twice his size—backwards so hard the guy stumbled, nearly falling over.

Jungkook’s eyes were wild, flicking between you and the security guard, a dangerous mix of concern and pure rage.

"Oh, hi, baby—"

“Get in the car,” he growled, his voice low and deadly as he handed you his keys. “And lock the fucking doors. Now.”

His tone sent a shiver down your spine, and you bit back the urge to argue. Instead, you took the keys and turned toward the door, but the security guard wasn’t backing down.

"You and your bitch need to leave now," the guard snapped. "You’re banned from this bar."

Another one? You almost pouted, but he kept going.

"We have you on CCTV. If the victim presses charges, you’ll be contacted."

“What victim?” You laughed, taking a step toward the guy. “You’re gonna let that pig press charges?”

Jungkook’s head snapped toward you, jaw clenched, staying firmly between you and the goon. “What is he talking about? Who’s pressing charges?”

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms as you gestured toward the guy still rubbing his eyes with a bar towel, water dripping down his face. “That idiot. But it’s fine, baby. I finally got to use the pepper spray you gave me,” you added, poking Jungkook’s stomach with a giddy smile.

His lips twitched, but his expression stayed serious. “Why’d you have to use it?”

You shrugged, tilting your head, giving him that innocent look you knew drove him crazy. "He kept trying to touch me, but don’t worry, I handled it. Let’s go now, please."

But Jungkook’s gaze was already darkening, his eyes now fixed on the pathetic excuse of a man across the room. You could see the anger rising, feel the tension radiating off him, and you knew he was seconds away from losing his shit.

“Let’s just go, love,” you urged, voice rushing as you eyed the situation. “It’s over now.”

The security guard had disappeared to fetch backup, and you couldn’t help but smirk at the thought. The fact that he needed help dealing with Jungkook was almost laughable. Your man might not have been the biggest guy in the room, but you knew that shove must have rattled him, seeing as though the sidekick he'd now acquired was even bigger than he was.

And they were both stomping toward you.

You turned to warn Jungkook, “Baby—” but as your eyes shifted back to him, he was no longer at your side.

Your gaze snapped to the bar. There he was—storming up to the sleazebag still nursing his wet eyes with a towel, completely unaware that your furious boyfriend was closing in behind him. Ugh, he was like an angry, sexy bunny.

"Fuck," you muttered under your breath, pushing past a couple of people and hurrying over as quick as you could in your three-thousand-dollar stilettos.

As turned on as you were by the sight of him right now, you really didn’t need him missing work tomorrow because he'd been locked up for the night.

And then you, of course, also missing work because you had to sleep in the uncomfortable plastic chair next to his cell, since the officers wouldn’t accept bail again until he had completed his twelve-hour minimum hold.

You were almost there when you saw it—Jungkook’s hand gripping the back of the guy’s collar, yanking him back with so much force that the idiot’s eyes flew open in shock, panic flooding his face as he realized what was happening.

You bit your lip, trying to shove away the image that popped into your head of Jungkook’s hand tangled in your hair, pulling you up in that exact same way when he had you beneath him, forcing your eyes on his as he drove into you from behind.

God, not now, Y/N.

“Koo, baby, wait—” you called, but it was too late. He was gone.

Before the guy could even think about pushing Jungkook off, your boyfriend slammed his head down onto the bar with a sickening crack that echoed through the room. You winced, feeling the pain in your own skull just by watching it.

“Fuckkkk,” you hissed, finally reaching him and grabbing his arm. His muscles were rigid, vibrating with barely controlled rage. “Baby, come on. Security is coming—let’s go—”

But your words didn’t register. Jungkook was in another world, eyes burning with an almost feral intensity as he jerked the guy back up.

Without hesitation, he reeled back and delivered a brutal punch to the guy’s face, the thud of knuckles against bone filled the space as the man’s head snapped to the side, his knees buckling as he collapsed to the floor in a heap.

You sucked your teeth in frustration. You couldn’t care less if the guy sat there on the ground and bled out, truly. What you did care about was the thought of Jimin covering your shift tomorrow because you had to spend the night bailing Jungkook out of jail again.

“Okay, my love, that’s good. Now let’s go—”

“Baby, go and—” Jungkook growled, his voice dangerous and low, as he lifted the guy again. His fist swung forward, colliding with the man’s nose, and you winced at the sharp crunch that followed. The guy collapsed again, shaky hands cradling his face as blood spurted from his mouth.

Jungkook’s head whipped around, his dark gaze locking onto you with a ferocity that sent a chill down your spine. “Go and get in the fucking car,” he snapped.

“No, you fucking idiot, come with me—”

Before you could finish your sentence, your feet were suddenly off the ground, the world spinning as you were slung over a massive shoulder. It took you a second to process what the fuck was happening.

"What the fuck!" you screamed, pounding your fists against the back of the goliath security guard who was carrying you like a sack of potatoes. Your purse fell to the ground as the guy just kept walking toward the exit like you were nothing. "Put me down, you fucking freak!"

Through your distorted, lopsided vision, you caught sight of the other, even bigger, guard heading for Jungkook while you were being dragged away.

The second your boyfriend saw what was happening to you, the loser he had been beating on was forgotten. His eyes locked on the guard manhandling you, and fury ignited in his expression.

The guard approaching barely had time to take a step before Jungkook threw him to the ground like he weighed nothing. His unbuttoned dress shirt sleeves exposed the veins in his arms, rippling as he stormed toward you with a look that promised murder. Yummy.

You were still smacking the back of the giant guard carrying you, panic creeping in as the door got closer and closer. "Baby, my purse!" you whined, halting your attack for a second and pointing to the ground. Jungkook was already stalking past it. "Pick it up!"

He grunted in frustration, turning on his heel to grab the fallen Prada before charging back after you.

The guard reached the door just as Jungkook caught up, and you braced yourself for the moment you’d be tossed out like trash. But in one quick motion, Jungkook grabbed your outstretched hand and used his other hand to grab you by the bum, pulling you off the guard’s shoulder.

You beamed as he set you back on your feet, happily taking your purse from him while he just rolled his eyes. Then, he turned and sent his fist straight to the giant’s jaw. The guard actually stumbled backward, clearly feeling the weight of the hit, and for a brief moment, you thought it was over.

But then the bastard straightened up, cracked his neck like a fucking terminator, and stepped forward again, completely unfazed.

"What. The. Fuck," you seethed, your eyes widening in disbelief. You grabbed Jungkook’s hand, tugging him back, but he was already mirroring the guard’s steps, ready to go again.

"Nope," you muttered, wrapping your arms around his bicep and using every ounce of strength to drag him toward the door.

You knew he could easily overpower you, and you could feel the tension in his muscles as he debated it. But after a beat, he scoffed, shooting a final glare at the guard, who had stopped in place, phone in hand as he watched you haul Jungkook outside.

Probably calling the cops, taking down your registration—whatever the fuck. You could already imagine the panic on Jeon Co.’s PR team’s faces when they caught wind of this fuck fest of a night.

You finally let go of Jungkook’s arm when you got outside, your hand diving into your purse for his car keys. He followed close behind, silent but simmering with rage, as you both made your way to his car. It was parked right next to the entrance—definitely not in an actual spot—but he clearly didn’t care. He’d probably left it there to get to you faster.

As soon as the cold air hit your face and you and Jungkook were away from everyone, it’s like all your anger from earlier flooded right back.

You marched straight toward the driver’s seat, just wanting to get the hell out of there, but before you could reach for the door handle, Jungkook’s bruised hand snaked around your waist and pulled you back against him. He plucked the keys from your hand with ease, scoffing under his breath as he ushered you toward the passenger side.

"Give me the fucking keys, Jungkook—"

He let out a dark, humorless laugh. "First of all, you’ve been drinking. Don’t be fucking stupid. Second of all, why do you sound like you’re mad at me? I’m mad at you!"

"I had a fucking lemonade, I didn’t drink, you psycho!" you snapped, spinning on your heel to face him. "And, I’m sorry, mad at me?" You shoved his hand off your stomach and made a grab for the keys, but he slipped them into his pocket, resting his hand right over them like he was daring you to try.

"You’re the one who just went ape-shit and beat half the bar to a fucking pulp!"

"Don’t be dramatic," he rolled his eyes, leaning casually against the car like he hadn’t just trashed multiple people inside.

"You just fucking—"

He narrowed his eyes dangerously. "And why am I here in the first place, Y/N?"

"Oh, I don’t know," you snapped back, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Maybe because you’re a—"

You cut yourself off this time, catching the slight arch of his brows—just a fraction.

His head tilted, that infuriating smirk tugging at his lips.

"I’m a what, baby?" His voice was low, amused, taunting.

You squinted at him, but he just waited, utterly patient, like he had all the time in the world.

"I’m a what?"

Your eyes rolled to the sky in frustration, and you turned your back on him, yanking on the door handle in frustration. But of course, it was locked. You didn’t even bother looking back at him.

"Open the door, Jungkook."

"Sure," he jingled the keys in his pocket with infuriating calmness, "When you finish your sentence. I’m a what?"

You glared over your shoulder at him, biting back a snarl as your eyes raked down his stupidly gorgeous frame. Tousled hair, the top two buttons of his dress shirt sluttily popped open, bruised and bloody hands casually tucked into the pockets of his designer slacks. So fucking annoying.

"You," you started, eyes narrowing as you stepped back. "Are sleeping alone tonight." You punctuated it with a sarcastic smile before pushing off the car and storming down the street toward your own.

The second you started walking, you heard his footsteps trailing after you like a shadow. You just shook your head, your tone clipped as you bit out, "Go home, Jungkook. Your home. I’m sleeping at my own place tonight."

"Mm, and how do you plan on getting there?" His voice followed, calm—too calm.

"Hmm, take a wild fucking guess, genius," you snapped, diving back into your purse to grab your keys. But your hand came up empty.

"Mother fucker," you hissed, spinning around to find yourself face-to-face with his broad chest. You took a breath, glaring up at him. "Give me my keys."

"When you finish what you were saying," he replied lowly.

You scoffed, incredulous. "You’ll give me my keys and let me drive home if I finish my sentence?" You almost laughed in his face, knowing damn well he was full of shit.

"No," he shrugged, his honesty almost infuriating, "but I still want you to say it."

You groaned, exasperated. "Why is it so important to you—"

"Everything you say is important to me." His tone was unflinchingly direct. "And I want to know what you think of me."

For a split second, your heart tugged at his words, even as the anger bubbling in your chest fought to take over.

You weren’t mad at him for going in there and smashing that dirty sleaze’s head into the counter. You weren’t mad that he had taken on the Goliath twins like a reckless maniac with no concern for his own well-being.

You were mad because he lied to you.

"A liar." The words slipped from your lips, quiet but cutting, your eyes locking with his.

The flicker of pain that flashed across his gaze was immediate. He hadn’t been expecting that. He had braced himself for you to call him a possessive jerk, a jealous asshole, even a fucking loser. But not that.

"Baby," Jungkook swallowed, his beaten hands slowly gliding down to caress the sides of the dress he both loved and hated seeing you in. "I’m so sorry."

"Yeah," you nodded, rolling your eyes as you turned your head away just as he tried to lean down for a kiss. "Always are, huh?"

"Please, don’t," he sighed softly, his breath warm against your neck as his nose nuzzled into your skin. It was hard to believe this was the same man who had buried his fist into a guy’s jaw just five minutes ago. “I would never leave your side if I didn’t have to. You know that. You have to know that.”

"And you just had to stay back tonight of all nights?" Your words were sharp, cutting. "Couldn’t get one of your two fucking assistants to carry some of the workload? Or maybe that slut from level 7 who’s always begging to take some stress off her ‘big, hunky, hardworking boss?’"

Jungkook let out a low chuckle, nipping at your neck in amusement when you imitated Heejin’s voice. She hadn’t ever said anything quite that bold—obviously. You would’ve had him fire her on the spot if she had. But her lingering glances, the way she was always offering herself up for extra tasks, the way she hovered around… yeah, her actions spoke louder than words, and it made your blood fucking boil.

"Our board meeting ran way overtime, and they sprung last-minute critical amendments on us for the Cypher Project, baby," he mumbled into your skin, his lips brushing along the curve of your neck. "You know no one else could’ve handled it, or I would’ve been out of there."

"Okay." You nodded, lips pressing together as you let him kiss your neck for a while, but your mind was still racing.

"Okay?" he echoed in a hum, his mouth moving lower, pressing another soft kiss just above your collarbone. He sounded almost suspicious at how easily you seemed to be dropping the argument.

"Okay," you repeated, still letting him kiss you, your body slightly relaxing under his touch.

He hummed again, but then something clicked. No. This was too easy. You were never this quick to drop an argument. There wasn’t nearly enough groveling.

"Baby—"

Before he could finish, your hand shot into his left pocket, snatching the keys and shoving him you off with your other hand. He stumbled back, eyes wide with surprise as he barely caught his balance. You didn’t wait around to see him recover; you just turned and headed straight for your car.

Of course, he followed.

"Baby, come on—"

You didn’t stop, your pace quickening as you adjusted your handbag on your shoulder. "Nope. Don’t care."

"Baby, I'm fucking sorry."

"Uh-huh," you muttered, clicking the button to unlock your car before yanking the door open. He was right behind you, still trying.

“You’re not seriously leaving me right now, are you?”

You shot him a cold glance, leaning on the car door. “Yep. Maybe you should call Heejin—see if she’s free tonight. She can keep my side of the bed warm,” you spat, sliding into the driver’s seat.

His jaw ticked, tongue poking at the side of his cheek as he leaned back, letting you slam the door in his face. The engine roared to life, filling the thick silence between you two, but he didn’t even flinch. Instead, he nodded, something dark flashing in his eyes as his teeth toyed with his lip ring.

“You know I’m just gonna follow you, right?” His low voice carried through the glass, calm as ever.

You rolled your eyes, throwing the car into gear and pulling out of the lot.

But you weren’t the least bit surprised when, just a few moments later, you caught sight of his car pulling out right behind you.

He was home before you.

Not that you were surprised. You had gotten the doorbell alert two streets over, and it only made you scoff, your foot easing off the gas as you slowed down even more, wanting to make him wait. You had briefly considered going to Jimin’s for the night, but you knew better. Even though Jungkook had a soft spot for his assistant, there was no way in hell he’d let you sleep over at another guy’s house, and you weren't about to drag Jimin into that.

Sliding out of your car, you said nothing, grabbing your coat and purse from the passenger seat before locking it. Jungkook was already perched on your front doorstep, his head snapping up the second your tires crunched against the driveway.

“Baby, I need you to turn your location back on. I get it. You made your point—”

“Don’t start, Jungkook.” You sighed, your heels clicking against the stone steps as you brushed past him to unlock the front door.

You didn’t even bother closing the door behind you as you walked in, knowing he was right behind, the sound of it clicking shut as he locked it for you. Your purse and coat landed carelessly on the hallway table, and your fingers instinctively massaged the soreness creeping up the side of your neck. Without a word, Jungkook crouched down and slipped off your heels, lining them up neatly next to his shoes.

It was late, and the exhaustion that had been chasing you all night was finally sinking in. Your body ached, your mind was running on fumes, and all you really wanted was to crawl into bed and sleep. But something in the air told you that wasn’t happening any time soon. Whether it would be another argument, angry makeup sex, or another night of kicking Jungkook to the couch—only to lie sleepless for an hour before dragging his ass back to your bed—you weren’t sure yet.

Your steps were slow as you made your way to the bathroom, flicking the light on before leaning heavily against the sink. You cracked your neck, your eyes closing for a brief moment as the exhaustion took over.

You didn’t even flinch when Jungkook’s chest pressed against your back, his strong arms slipping around you as he reached for the faucet to wash his hands. The water ran pinkish, swirling down the drain as it cleared the blood and dirt from his knuckles, but you weren’t concerned. He knew how to throw a punch safely—years of boxing and training made sure of that. This was very mild compared to the damage he’d done in the early days of your relationship. Back then, you’d spent more time getting him unbanned from clubs than actually enjoying them.

He dried his hands slowly, taking his time before reaching for one of your hair ties on the counter. His fingers worked through your hair, gathering it into a loose ponytail.

You were far too drained to even consider pushing him away—not that you would’ve, even if you weren’t. Upset? Sure. But truly mad? Not really.

You knew exactly what you were getting into when you fell for a wildly successful, young CEO. Long nights, last-minute cancellations, missed plans—it was the nature of his world. Normally, you accepted it. But tonight had been different. Tonight was supposed to be one of the rare, precious evenings you finally had time to spend together after months of clashing schedules. You’d planned for it, gotten excited about it, and then… it was ruined. So, yeah, you were pissed.

But at the same time, you understood. The Cypher Project was monumental for Jeon Corp. Jungkook had poured nearly a year of blood, sweat, and no sleep into it. It was his baby, and only a handful of people were allowed anywhere near it—his assistants, his CCO, and you. This project mattered. But god, you missed him.

This, though? This was just typical Jeon Jungkook groveling. He’d pamper you, apologize at least a thousand times, buy you another bag or three, and then fuck you until you couldn’t remember why you were mad in the first place. The order of events varied; the bags sometimes took a day or two to arrive.

Once your hair was up, he gently spun you around and lifted you onto the bathroom counter. Your eyes remained shut as he moved between your legs, his long arms reaching for your skincare products. You didn’t have to tell him anything—he knew your routine better than you did at this point.

Before he got started, you cracked one eye open, just for a moment, grabbing his right hand and holding it softly in your lap. Your thumb traced over his knuckles, following the tiny splits. One was still bleeding slightly, while the other looked like it would be bruising by morning.

“Getting better, baby. Barely any blood this time,” you hummed, lifting his hand to your lips and pressing a gentle kiss to his knuckles before closing your eyes again, waiting.

He smiled at that, though you couldn’t see it. The weight of the towel settled on your lap, and his hand left yours, resting lightly on your chest as he leaned you down, cupping warm water from the sink to wet your face. You stayed still, letting him move through the motions, only shifting when he needed you to. His touch was precise but gentle as he massaged the cleanser into your skin.

Your toes wiggled absentmindedly on either side of his thighs, tapping softly against him while he moved through your products, handling each one with practiced ease.

Jungkook was quiet for a moment before he finally spoke.

"I want to move in with you."

You didn’t open your eyes—mostly because your face was covered in toner—but the way your feet stopped swinging and your eyebrows shot up said everything.

“Well, that’s one way to grovel,” you muttered under your breath, leaning down blindly to rinse your face. Jungkook cupped his hand, helping you wash off the spots you missed before gently wiping your face dry with the towel. He pressed a quick kiss to your lips through the fabric.

Cute, you thought.

“Gross,” you mumbled, the faintest smile tugging at your lips.

He didn’t respond, just slipped his hands down your bare legs, wrapping them securely around his waist. You tugged the towel down and blinked up at his pretty face. He just stood there, quiet, watching you. Waiting.

"Are you waiting for something?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

He bit his lip, barely concealing a smile. “Hmm. Is that how you’re going to be?”

“I don’t know what you mean…”

“So your answer is no, then.” He hummed.

“My answer is nothing because you didn’t ask me a question,” you retorted, brattily swatting his bum with your foot, the light tap making him smirk.

“It’s going to happen eventually,” he said, his tone certain, almost mocking, as he leaned down to brush his lips against yours. His hand caught your ankle, stopping your wandering toe from getting too close to the no-go zone. Well, except that one ti—

“May as well get it out of the way, baby.”

“Oh,” you laughed, amusement coloring your voice as you unwrapped your legs from his waist, resting them on the counter. “Glad you consider the next step in our relationship something we should just get out of the way.”

His eyes sparkled with amusement as he pulled your legs back down, positioning himself firmly between them again, his hands settling possessively on your thighs. “You know what I mean,” he murmured, his voice dipping into a low growl.

“You already know I’d do anything with you, baby,” you sighed, rolling your eyes as your feet lifted back up to drum lightly against his bum. “But I’m annoyed that you asked me this right after an argument. You’re just doing what you think will make me happy—”

The cold, metallic sensation on your thigh interrupted your sentence. Frowning, you glanced down to see his tattooed hand resting on your skin, something small and cool pressed beneath his palm.

Your brows furrowed. “Move your hand, Kookie.”

He didn’t move, his gaze locking with yours. His eyes were serious—more serious than you’d seen in a long while. And that was saying something. Jungkook was always confident, always certain about your relationship, but this… this was different.

“Y/N,” he said softly, his tongue flicking at his lip ring.

“Yes?” you asked, your voice softening as your finger reached up to gently swat his tongue away before you adjusted his lip ring back into place.

“You know how much I love you, right? Like, really know how in love with you I am?” His voice was so genuine, his eyes searching yours intently.

Your head tilted slightly as you swallowed the urge to tease him. The feeling of that little cool object under his palm had your mind racing. You already knew exactly what it was, and if you’d been wearing underwear right now, they’d be fucking soaked.

“I do,” you nodded just as seriously, your hands resting on the counter on either side of your thighs as you leaned forward, waiting for his pouty lips to meet yours. He didn’t make you wait long, leaning down immediately, humming as you gently suckled on his tongue and over his lip ring before pulling back.

“I know, baby. I feel it every day." You spoke against his lips, giving them a soft peck before pulling back a little, "I’m so lucky to have you all to myself. I love you just as much, my darling. I hope you know that.”

“I do, baby.” He nodded, leaning down to brush his pretty nose against yours. “You’re it for me, angel. There’s no one after you. That, I know.”

“Mmh,” you grunted in delight, your nose scrunching as your hand snaked around the back of his neck, pulling him down to your lips, hard.

Jungkook melted into you instantly, his hands finding their way up your body as he kissed you with the kind of need that made your entire body hum. His fingers curled into the back of your hair, pulling you deeper into the kiss, and you moaned softly against his mouth, just as his hands moved lower.

“Oh my god,” you mumbled, breaking the kiss suddenly as your eyes dropped to the now-uncovered little piece of metal resting on your thigh.

Tears welled up in your eyes the moment you saw it. Your hand darted down, snatching up the now-warm key like it was made of glass, your fingers trembling as you inspected it. This wasn’t a key to his penthouse—you already had one of those.

This was new. Bigger. And turning you the fuck on.

Jungkook's bunny teeth grazed his lip ring, a rare flicker of hesitation crossing his face as he watched you silently. Jeon Jungkook didn’t get nervous. He was rich, successful, gorgeous, and had the hottest girl he had ever seen in his life all to himself. But even he couldn’t deny that his heart was beating a little fast, or whatever.

“Baby, fuck," you choked out, your brows furrowing as the tears threatened to spill over. You looked up at him, still clutching the key. "You fucking... ugh!"

Your hand gripped the collar of his shirt, yanking him back down to you. You kissed him again, deep and needy, your lips crashing against his with a desperation you couldn’t quite name.

"Love me that much, hm?" you mumbled between kisses, your voice husky, body arching into him as his tattooed hands slid down your sides, long fingers squeezing around the soft flesh. "Bought me a fucking house, huh, baby?"

Jungkook’s smirk brushed against your lips, so cocky, so him. “Well, I’m not fucking renting it.”

A loud laugh bubbled out of you, muffled by his mouth still pressed against yours. It was cut short when his tongue slipped past your parted lips, hot and familiar, moving with practiced ease.

His tongue... fuck, with the number of times and places you’d had it in your body, you were sure you could pick it out from a lineup blindfolded. Skilled, wet, with that lingering touch of cigarette. Fucking perfect.

You grunted against his mouth, your hand blindly reaching to set the key on the counter without pulling away. “Told you to stop smoking.”

“Told you to get fucked,” he hummed back, his words vibrating on your tongue as his hands slid from your hips to your ass, gripping hard enough to make you gasp before pulling you flush against his growing bulge.

“Cunt,” you giggled, your fingers tangling around the back of his neck, pulling him in deeper, your tongue chasing that smoky flavor as heat pulsed between your legs. The softest whine escaped your lips as you swallowed his taste.

“Bitch,” he mumbled lowly, tattooed fingers giving a dirty squeeze to your ass, brows furrowing in delight as his hips ground into yours, the thick, hard length of him pressing between your thighs. Even through the layers of fabric, the friction sent a needy throb straight to your clit.

Your nails scratched lightly against the nape of his neck, and just as you were about to bite down on his tongue, he suddenly pulled back, leaving your lips parted in a confused pout.

“What?” you whined, trying to tug him back down to your mouth, but he wasn’t budging. His eyes were locked in place.

On your crotch.

Oh.

“Y/N.” His voice dropped, deeper, more dangerous.

“Yes, my love?” you blinked innocently, tugging at the collar of his shirt. He didn’t move.

“Are you not wearing fucking panties?”

“Um,” you pursed your lips, pretending to think. “Would you believe me if I said I was?”

Your boyfriend scoffed sorely, giving a bitter nod before peeling himself from you completely and walking out of the bathroom.

You sat there for a second, blinking, frowning at the sight of him walking away, watching how the thick muscles in his back rippled beneath his shirt. God, you just wanted to run your tongue over every inch of that perfect, sinful skin, remembering all the times you had gotten off just by riding that big fucking back—

Shit.

“Baby!” you called after him with a pout, hopping off the counter and ignoring the sticky feeling between your thighs as your feet hit the floor. You wobbled slightly, legs stiff from sitting too long. With a quick kiss to the key resting beside the sink, you dropped it into your jewelry case and scurried after your angry boyfriend.

“Kookie, hold on…” The sound of your footsteps echoed down the hallway, needy and impatient.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. You were really pissed when he canceled, okay, and so you did the one thing you knew would get under his skin... going commando in public when he wasn’t around.

You fully expected him to find out at the bar or during some angry foreplay at home. Then, he’d get all sexy, possessive, and you’d end up screaming his name so loud your neighbors would complain again.

But not like this. Not after he’d been so gentle, taking your makeup off with soft, careful touches. Not after he’d just given you the key to the fucking house he bought for the two of you! He was probably feeling all soft and vulnerable, having just taken such a big step in your relationship...

You know, people didn’t really get it—but deep down, your boyfriend was just a big, cuddly teddy bear. Sure, a teddy bear with like three assault charges, but that’s besides the point.

God. Fuck, fuck, fuck!

Jungkook didn’t stop. He rounded the corner into your bedroom, shoulders stiff, jaw clenched.

You followed him in, flicking on the light just in time to see him unbuttoning his shirt, quietly tugging it free from where it had been tucked into his slacks. His back was to you, standing near your vanity, jaw tight with restraint, anger radiating off him in waves.

The muscles in his broad shoulders flexed as you stepped closer, your palms sliding up the expanse of his back.

"Baby, I'm—"

"Don't." His voice was low, firm—a quiet command cutting off any apology on the tip of your tongue. He pulled his shirt off, tossing it over the chair beside him before his hand moved to his belt, the metallic clink sounding sharper in the silence of the room.

You sighed softly, pressing a kiss to his warm, bare shoulder, the skin still taut with tension. Your forehead rested against his back as your arms wrapped around his waist, holding him close. “Are you mad at me?”

"Mhm." He scoffed, pulling his belt through the loops and throwing it onto the growing pile of clothes.

Without a word, he shrugged off your hold, his back stiff as he walked over to your dresser. Opening the middle drawer, he pulled out one of his shirts, and without even looking back at you, he held it out.

You didn’t hesitate, taking it from his hand. He didn’t need to say anything—Jungkook never wore shirts to bed. Your fingers slipped behind your back, tugging down the zipper of your dress before you let the fabric fall in a pool at your feet.

His eyes caught your movement in the mirror, and he scoffed softly, watching as you unclasped your bra. The bra slipped down, the absence of panties now glaringly obvious. His expression tightened as you slid his shirt over your head, the oversized fabric falling to mid-thigh.

Jungkook unbuttoned his slacks in silence, shoving them off until he stood in just his briefs. He bent down, gathering both of your discarded clothes before disappearing into the bathroom to toss them into the hamper.

You heard the water running as you pulled the band from your hair and padded toward the bathroom, wanting to brush your teeth too. But before you could enter, he stepped out, his tall frame blocking the doorway.

"Get in bed," he said sternly, leaving no room for argument.

You pouted but turned around, dragging your feet toward the bed. From the way he flicked off the light behind you, it was clear you weren’t getting dicked down tonight. Jungkook always kept the lights on when he was fucking you—he liked to see everything properly. You frowned as you crawled under the covers.

"My love," you started softly, watching his back as he climbed into bed, turning to face the window. He didn’t respond. "Baby, please—"

"I’m so fucking angry," he finally spoke, his voice low, thick with frustration. Your hand raked over the tattoos covering his tense arm as you scooted closer, your fingertips tracing the ink in the way you always did to calm him down.

"Turn around and go to sleep," he grumbled, laced with warning.

"Can’t sleep when you’re mad at me. You know that," you whined softly, shuffling closer until you were pressed against his back, your leg draping over his waist, pulling yourself into his space.

He tensed under your touch but didn’t push you away.

You nuzzled into him, your cheek resting on his shoulder, hand tracing gentle patterns along his side. "Talk to me, baby," you whispered, your voice soft, pleading. "Please."

"You knew it would piss me off. I don’t know why you’re surprised—"

"Yeah, but I thought it would be like sexy, possessive, fuck me into the mattress mad…" Your words were muffled as your lips brushed against the warmth of his back, speaking directly into his skin. “I didn’t expect you to ask me to move in with you, baby—”

"So, if I didn’t," he interrupted, tugging the blanket over his shoulder, brushing you off in the process. "You wouldn’t be sorry at all?"

You frowned, pulling the blanket back down and reclaiming your spot, pressing yourself against him again.

“Not really,” you admitted, lips finding the little heart tattoo on his shoulder blade that he’d let you needle into him. You pressed a gentle kiss to it, your voice softening into a playful coo. “Was really mad at you. But then you were all stupidly cute and you bought us a fucking houseee, baby.”

Your fingers curled around his bare side, your kisses turning into quick, playful pecks across the tattoo. "And now I am very..." You pressed another kiss to his skin, “sorry.” Kiss. “My love.” Kiss.

He shifted slightly, his body tense but responsive to your touch. You knew you were getting to him, your lips soft against his inked skin, your tone low and slow. His jaw tightened, but he didn’t stop you, not entirely immune to the way your kisses trailed over his back, or the way your fingers skimmed down his side.

“You think you can just kiss me and make it better?” His voice was still low, but there was something softer creeping into it, the edges of his anger starting to blur under your touch.

You gazed affectionately at your softie's back, a smile playing on your lips as you rubbed your nose over the tattoo. “Maybe,” you hummed. “But I can do a little more than kiss you, if that's not enough…” you whispered, your hand trailing lower, brushing just above the waistband of his briefs.

He let out a small, frustrated sigh, but his body betrayed him—muscles relaxing slightly under your touch.

“Brat,” he muttered under his breath, shifting his position to lie on his back, allowing the blanket to slide down his body and reveal his broad, toned chest.

A soft, approving grunt left your lips as you shamelessly drank in the view, your eyes lingering on your favorite tattoo, scribbled prettily across his chest.

You’ve always been vocal about your love for Jungkook’s tattoos—they’re one of your favorite things about him. Some hold more meaning than others, but they're all breathtakingly beautiful. Honestly, with the number of times your nails have raked down his skin while he takes you like an untamed force, you’d think the ink would’ve rubbed off by now.

But your favorite? The tattoo nestled right below his left, perfectly pink nipple.

Your name.

You’ve never been one for tattoos on yourself, and you know people have all sorts of opinions about getting your partner’s name etched into your skin—a curse, they say. But when Jungkook told you, not asked, told you that he was going to get your name tattooed on him, you'd never dropped to your knees so fast in your life.

You were both lounging lazily on his couch, enjoying one of those rare days off, when he told you the news. The next twelve hours were spent on his lap, with the couch left in a state that required professional cleaning. Jungkook was very upset when you had it cleaned while he was at work, but you made it up to him.

By telling him you wanted one too.

You could already picture your sweet Christian mother rolling in her grave at the thought of you getting a tattoo, let alone your boyfriend’s name—the same boyfriend who’s done things to you no amount of repentance could ever erase. But it’s okay. You planned to get it in a place she wouldn’t see, wherever she’s watching from.

When you told Jungkook about your plan to get matching ink, it led to the second most tender and passionate sex you’d ever had—the first being the day you both said “I love you” for the first time. He's a sap like that.

You were supposed to get "Jungkook" etched onto your inner thigh, but the moment the needle touched your skin, you knew there was no way in hell you were sitting through all eight letters. So, you settled for "JK." Still adorable, and you loved it. So did he.

He’s obsessed with it, sometimes spending hours suckling on the ink. He’ll fall asleep with his head in your lap, the tattooed skin nestled in his mouth like a pacifier. His hand gravitates there when you're out to dinner with friends, resting directly on the spot if you're wearing a skirt, over your jeans if you're not.

Jungkook, of course, got your entire first name and let you pick where it would go. He only had one condition: it had to be on the front of his body—somewhere on his chest or maybe his thigh. When you asked why, he simply said he wasn’t getting any other tattoos there. That space was only for you.

You immediately picked the spot under your favorite nipple of his, and rode him into the sunset right after.

Angel isn’t a word most people—well, any people—would use to describe Jeon Jungkook. But for you, it’s that simple.

He’s your angel. Your short-tempered, jealous, possessive, fiery-fisted angel. For forever and then some.

Despite your boyfriend's irritated expression, you could sense the familiar heat building up in him, causing his eyes to darken and his teeth to tug on his lip rings unconsciously. You felt yourself clench around nothing at the sight.

God, you were down so bad.

A sly grin tugged at your lips as you shifted, sliding your leg over his waist to straddle him, your bare heat pressing flush against the hard bulge straining beneath his briefs. A soft, satisfied hum escaped your throat as you leaned down, letting your lips graze along the sharp line of his jaw.

“Thought you liked your bitches bratty,” you murmured, the words brushing against his lip rings. You kissed your way slowly, deliberately down his neck. “Heard Heejin can get real mouthy.”

“Hm, she’s not usually that bad around me,” he said, his tone casual, almost playful. His tattooed fingers slipped beneath the hem of your shirt, tracing lazily along your sides. “Then again, her mouth is usually otherwise occupied.”

Your lips froze mid-kiss against his neck, the heat in the room shifting as a bubbling wave of jealousy swirled low in your stomach. You knew he was only matching your teasing with his own, but it didn’t stop the image from forming—Heejin, beneath you, as you straddled her in this exact position. Only this time, you weren’t smirking. This time, your hands gripped a pillow, pressing it down firmly until her frantic kicks finally stilled.

You recovered quickly, trailing your kisses lower down his chest. “Yeah?” you bit, voice tight as you continued kissing along his skin. “She suck your cock just the way you like it, baby?”

Jungkook swallowed a shiver as you slid down his body, your mouth hovering over his chest. The tension between you thickened as your teeth grazed his nipple, your tongue darting out just enough to tease.

“Yeah,” he answered, voice strained as he felt your hot breath fan over him. “She’s real sloppy with it. Bit surprising, considering she acts like a fucking church girl in the office—”

You waited until his nipple hardened from the sensation of your breath before biting down, hard, sinking your teeth into the sensitive skin.

His reaction was instant—a sharp hiss slipping through his clenched teeth as his fingers dug into your sides on instinct, gripping you hard enough to leave marks.

His hips jerked up against you, the friction sending a spark through your core as he tried to suppress the groan building in his throat at your obvious stake to claim. His restraint was fading, and you couldn't fucking wait.

You followed up with a soft lick, soothing the now-red nub before lowering your mouth to press a wet, possessive kiss over your tattoo on his chest.

“Sorry,” you mumbled insincerely, pulling back just enough to lock eyes with him.

Jungkook’s gaze was fiery, narrowed as he looked up at you, but you could see the way his breath quickened, his stomach contracting deliciously beneath your bare heat that he was affected.

The grip on your hips tightened, pulling you down harder as he let out a low warning. "Careful, baby."

You smiled small, dragging your nails lightly over his abdomen as you trailed back up his body. “Sorry, baby. Hyungwon used to love it when I did that—"

You didn’t get to finish your sentence before Jungkook was flipping you onto your back, his hands gripping your wrists and pinning them above your head. The look in his eyes was dark, jaw clenched tight as he loomed over you.

If there was one thing that drove Jungkook over the edge, it was when you mentioned your ex.

"Think you're so funny, hm?" His voice dropped low, a dangerous edge creeping in as his grip on your wrists tightened slightly, his gaze darkening as it scanned your face. You could feel the shift—he was serious now.

You pouted up at him, a small smile still playing on your lips. “Just being honest, love. Hyungwon’s left nipple was really sensitive—”

A deep scoff reverberated from Jungkook’s chest, his fingers tightening their hold just enough to send a shiver down your spine. He leaned down, his nose brushing yours as his jaw clenched.

"If you ever comp—" he stopped abruptly, his breath unsteady, voice shaking with barely-contained rage at being compared to the guy he’d nearly put into a coma the last time he laid eyes on him. His jaw clenched, tongue sliding over the inside of his cheek as he glared down at you. "Say his name again, Y/N. I fucking dare you."

You don't know why you did it.

Maybe you lacked survival instincts. Or maybe it was because you were wetter than the fucking Atlantic.

Oh well. Too late now.

"Hyungw—"

You barely got through the first syllable before you were flipped onto your stomach, your cheek pressed into the mattress, the sudden force of the movement knocking the air from your lungs.

A grunt escaped your lips, your head tilting just enough to catch your breath. You could barely contain the smile threatening to spread across your face, your bottom lip caught between your teeth as a thrill of excitement raced through your veins.

Fucking finally.

Jungkook’s weight vanished from the bed, and though every nerve in your body screamed at you to move, you knew better. You had been here before, too many times to count. Sitting up to look at him would earn you more than just punishment—it would leave you edged and begging for release until you were a writhing, pathetic mess. Normally, you’d relish every second of that torture, but right now you were too fucking soaked and too fucking needy to drag this out any longer. You haven't had his cock inside you since before he left your place for work this morning.

And that was like… seventeen fucking hours ago!

Your body thrummed with anticipation, the ache between your thighs pulsing as you stayed perfectly still, hands flat at your sides. You nuzzled deeper into the pillow with a pleased hum, toes wiggling in eager impatience.

Then came the sound you were waiting for.

He was back behind you, the loud click of the belt buckle confirming it. "'M getting too soft on you, baby." His voice was low, dark.

The mattress dipped beneath his weight, and you felt the cold brush of the belt against your bare thighs, the sensation jolting straight to your core.

You bit down harder on your lip, resisting the urge to respond. You knew that would only make it worse. And better.

"Let you ignore my texts," he hummed, the belt dragging slowly up the curve of your legs, making you squirm involuntarily under his touch.

"Let you walk around with no fucking panties," he growled, his hands pulling up the hem of his shirt so your body was fully exposed to him. You immediately gripped the fabric, holding it tight so it stayed in place, eager to feel the weight of his eyes on your bare skin.

"Bought you a fucking house."

He rested the belt on your waist, a promise of what was to come, then his fingers trailed lower, sliding exactly where you wanted them. He gripped your ass, spreading your cheeks just enough to let you feel the warm brush of his fingers against your slick heat.

"This what you wanted, baby?" His voice was a low, mocking drawl, dripping with condescension. "You want me to fuck you like the needy little slut you are?"

A helpless whimper escaped your lips, your thighs parting instinctively at his words, betraying the desperation that throbbed through every inch of your body.

It was fucked, really—how easily he could lead you into this hazy, trance-like state with just a few words. In everyday life, you were lippy, hot-headed, the kind of person who would never let anyone walk all over you without a fight.

But with Jungkook? When he controlled you, when he degraded you, it never left you feeling small, not like other inferior men from your past who only managed to make you feel amused or bored.

With Jungkook, it was different. The way he commanded you, as twisted as it was, it made you feel seen. Wanted. Like you were exactly where you needed to be—in his hands, under his control. All you desired was to surrender completely, to let him take and take until there was nothing left.

Maybe you were biased, considering you loved the man currently smirking wickedly above you with every fiber of your being, but who cared? He owned you, and god, did you love every second of it.

Jungkook hummed, his fingers sliding through your wetness, gathering it slowly. You could hear the smirk in his voice. "So wet just from running that fucking mouth of yours, huh?"

Your breath hitched, every nerve firing as he lifted a hand to press lightly on the buckle resting on your back, the pressure sending a delicious ache radiating through you. You could already imagine the sting it would leave, the thought alone making you drip.

Then, his hand trailed back down your side, leaving the belt untouched and useless on your back. You bit back a disappointed grunt.

"All leaky and achy just from imagining Heejin-ah with my cock in her mouth, baby?" His taunt was biting, and you couldn’t stop the irritated noise that bubbled from your throat. He deliberately added the friendly honorific to get a rise out of you. And it worked.

"Oh?" Jungkook's laughter was filled with malice as he lightly traced his thumb over your folds for the briefest of seconds, not enough to satisfy, not even close.

"You don’t like it when I talk about other girls having me like you have me, huh? Not so fun is it, baby?"

His thumb brushed against your clit, fleeting, fast, gone before you could even register the sensation. Your hips bucked, chasing after the contact you craved, but he was already pulling away.

"Funny that," he mused before his tone turned menacingly low. "Because you sure as hell like talking about that boring fucking cuck a bit too much for my liking."

With the last remnants of your composure, you opened your mouth, ready to fire back one last bratty comment. Maybe the lord was on your side, though, because before you could get a word out, Jungkook cut you off.

"Color."

The retort died on your tongue, and before you even processed it, the response was out.

"Bright fucking green."

Jungkook’s mouth came down hot and harsh, his evil tongue licking a fat stripe right down your soaking slit. He took one of your ass cheeks in each hand, parting them effortlessly. You felt more than heard the deep inhale and exhale over your cunt as he dipped his nose into it like a dog would do to their water bowl on a hot fucking day.

Your breathing turned erratic, and your hands curled into fists to stop yourself from grabbing his head and forcing him deeper into your pussy. The way his tongue moved so deliberately, so lazily, only heightened the tension coiling tight in your core. When he had his fill of dragging his nose up and down your slit, his mouth latched onto your clit, slurping it up like it was his last fucking meal.

Your back arched, a strangled moan ripping from your lips as your fingers clawed at your sheets, trying to clutch onto any last thread of sanity. The grip on your ass tightened, keeping you wide open as he went at you with a brutal pace. Your thighs trembled around his head, your hole fluttering at the pleasure he was delivering to your clit. He was relentless, taking out all his anger and frustration on your poor little pussy.

Your cunt couldn’t keep up with him. It was dripping, soaking your boyfriend's face faster than he could lap it up, coating his chin and dripping down to the sheets beneath you. He groaned into your pussy, a low, dirty sound that vibrated right through your core.

"Ah! Fuck baby," you sobbed, burying your face further into the mattress. "Ngh-fuckkk!"

He didn't stop, tongue noisily sucking and flicking at your clit. Then his hand lifted and came down hard on your right ass cheek, the sharp slap sending a jolt straight through you. It ripped a moan from your throat and you forced yourself not to ask for another one.

"Not my name right now," he pulled back enough to scoff.

Before you could respond, Jungkook’s hands were already on you, shifting your body until you were holding yourself up on your hands and knees, your weight settled into doggy position.

He let out a low hum in approval before wasting no time and burying his mouth back into your heat, tongue sliding up and down viciously through your sopping folds.

“Ah-uhhh! Yes, daddy, oh my godddd,” you cried out, your eyes rolling back, hips bucking as his nose pressed deeper into your pussy.

He moaned into you, the vibration rippling through you as his tongue trailed slowly toward the entrance of your weepy hole.

Your evil fucking boyfriend hovered there for a moment, pretending to tease the tight muscle before his lips gave a big, harsh suck. The sound echoed in your ears as he slurped up as much of your slick as he could, coating his tongue before shoving it right into your clenching hole.

“Ah!” Your scream tore raw from your throat, your nails digging sorely into the mattress. His free hand slid up your body, four fingers pressing into the top of your ass cheeks, gripping you with possessive strength, while his thumb found your swollen clit, rubbing it in big, messy circles.

"Daddy -ah! Oh my fuckkk yes, eat your fucking pussy daddy, goddd."

Jungkook groaned lowly into you, eyes fluttering closed as he relished in the taste of the sweetest pussy he's ever had and will ever have in his life. He was manic as he drank from it, slurped at it, rubbed it all over his dirty fucking face. The wet sounds of his tongue pistoning into your hole, his finger sliding over your soppy clit, your fucked-out whimpers while you screamed for your Daddy.

Music to his fucking ears.

Your legs shook, elbows digging into the mattress as you forced yourself to keep form. If it weren't for your boyfriend's firm hand pressed against your stomach, holding you up, you both know you'd be face down on the mattress again.

Jungkook felt the tension in your belly beneath his palm and he knew you were getting close. He let you writhe for a few more seconds before slowing his movements, slipping his tongue from your hole and pressing a kiss to the pretty, puffed outer lips. He gave a wet suckle to your pebbled clit on his way out and finally pulled back with a loud smacking sound.

As much as the whiny cry you let out when he pulled away made his already aching cock throb harder in his briefs, he needed both hands for what he was about to do to you. And you knew it.

His bunny teeth poked out to graze against your inner left thigh, pussy-coated lips puckering to press a soft kiss over the ink that bore his name. Then, his hand pulled back and landed a quick smack on your right thigh, the light sting spreading instantly across your skin.

You understood immediately, a strained groan slipping from your lips as you rolled onto your back, head sinking into the pillow.

The belt buckle had been digging into your skin, so you quickly pulled it from beneath you, tossing it beside you on the bed. Your feet pressed into the mattress, knees bending as your legs spread open once more, leaving your glistening pussy on full display—just the way he taught you.

"Mm," Jungkook hummed approvingly, his eyes raking over your body with that look of dark satisfaction. His hand drifted to his cock, now uncomfortably hard, and gave it a rough palm through the fabric.

When his gaze paused at your chest, where his shirt had slipped back down to cover your breasts, you knew what to do.

But you didn't want to take it off… it was your favorite.

Instead, you tugged the fabric higher, pulling it up over your tits, shuddering as the material grazed over your sensitive nipples. Your tongue darted out to wet your lips before you bit down lightly on the hem, holding it in place between your teeth.

Jungkook let out a low, dirty groan, his fingers trailing up your thighs, giving the soft flesh a possessive squeeze. "Good girl, baby."

"Thank you, daddy," you keened at the praise, though your response came out muffled with the shirt wedged between your teeth.

You gave a little impatient wiggle of your hips, feeling the mixture of slick and saliva begin to drip out of your pussy the longer it was left unattended.

Jungkook's eyes hooded at the sight, watching as a glob of his spit dripped down from your pussy and disappeared right between your crack. He swallowed hard, hands itching to spread the fat cheeks and watch the liquid pool around your tight, puckered hole. He'd grab your phone and make you bring up Park Hyungwon's contact, force you to Facetime the pathetic fuck, and make him watch as he let more of his spit trail from his mouth right over your greedy ass. Then he'd use his big tongue to shove it deeper and deeper into your winking little hole .

Of course, the Hyungwon part was purely theoretical because you no longer had his number or any contact with that cunt anymore. Jungkook saw to that three days into your relationship. But the other parts—

"Daddy?"

His gaze slowly drifted up to your pretty face when your muffled voice broke him from his thoughts. "Yes, my baby?"

"Wha's da bel' for?" you mumbled, your speech slurred by the fabric of his shirt still caught between your teeth.

Jungkook’s tongue swiped over his bottom lip, eyes darkening at the sight of you struggling to speak, and he wasn’t surprised when his cock twitched in response, pressing harder against his stomach.

He glanced at the belt lying next to you. “Was gonna punish you, angel,” he admitted softly.

His hand trailed down, freeing his throbbing shaft from its restraints and kicking the briefs aside. The (non-sexual related) clean freak in him made a mental note to tidy up later.

Climbing onto the bed, he settled between your legs, his weight pressing down on you as his chest melded into your soft, warm skin. A quiet, content sigh slipped from his lips as he let himself sink into you.

“But 'm still very sorry about earlier,” he murmured, his words a gentle apology as his hand brushed along your side, his nose nuzzling against your boob. “And I wanna be a little gentler with you tonight. Is that okay?”

A warmth swirled in your stomach, sending soft flutters through your body. Your hand lifted to thread through his silky, messy hair, your nails grazing his scalp just the way he loved.

“Of cour-kkhm,” His eyes flicked up to meet yours from where his head rested on your chest, and with a bunny smile, his fingers carefully tugged his shirt from your mouth, freeing your lips so you could speak more clearly.

Leaning down, you pressed a gentle kiss to his tattooed fingers, feeling his warmth seep into your skin. “You can have me any way you want, baby,” you whispered softly, your words full of affection. “You know that.”

“Never getting rid of me, you know that, right?” he murmured against the soft skin of your sideboob, his lips puckering to suck a delicate mark into the flesh.

“Would never try,” you sighed, your hand trailing down to rest on his warm, solid back as he licked tenderly over the mark he’d left. “Would fucking castrate you if you even tried to leave me.”

A low, deep laugh rumbled through his chest, vibrating against your body as he shifted up, his naked form pressing closer until his mouth found its place in the crook of your neck. He mumbled softly, a smirk tugging at his lips, “Would let you.”

You giggled, your head tilting to meet your other half. “Slut,” you mumbled sweetly before connecting your mouth with his. Your lips moved together in perfect sync, tongues lazily lapping against each other, unrushed and full of love.

The taste of you in his mouth had you clenching around nothing as the memory of his filthy tongue buried between your thighs minutes ago resurfaced. Your hips rocked up lightly, exhaling through your nose when the tip of his cock just barely brushed against your sticky clit, the sound loud in contrast to the soft click of your tongues.

Jungkook was no less affected, groaning into your mouth as his fingers tightened around the sides of your waist. His hips shifted down so the full length of his shaft could slip between your slick folds, and he reveled in the loud, squishy noise of your heat enveloping him as he slid back and forth.

“Mmmmhh,” you broke away from his mouth with a sigh of relief, your head lolling back as your body ignited at the feeling of his cock finally returning home. He didn’t make a move to push inside just yet, continuing his deep thrusts, coating his length and balls in your slick as he rutted back and forth. "Shit, baby."

Jungkook’s groan was strained as his hand trailed from your side, slipping between the two of you without moving his head. He reluctantly pulled his cock from your slick folds before two of his fingers were there to replace it, sinking into your heat without hesitation.

"F-fuck," you choked, your chest heaving at the sudden stretch, your body reacting instantly to the familiar intrusion. It was the first time something stiff had been inside you all night, and the relief was overwhelming.

Jungkook groaned low in your ear, letting you adjust for a second before his hunger took over. He pushed his fingers in deeper into your hole, sinking them in fully until his palm slapped loudly against your clit. Then he pulled them out and drove them back in, harder.

"Oh god, b-baby, shitttt." Your nails dug into the skin of his shoulders, jaw slacking when his long fingers easily reached that spongey part deep inside of you.

He nuzzled into your neck, his lips brushing the hot skin there as his fingers continued their relentless pace, a soft groan escaping his throat. The way your walls squeezed tightly around his fingers like you didn't want him to pull out, the loud sqsch-sqsch-sqsch of your pussy echoing in his ears as he thrusted his hand in and out of your dirty little hole.

God, he was going to cum untouched like a fucking teenager.

“Need to put it in, please, baby,” he begged softly, voice strained with need, his breath hot against your neck. “Need you."

Your hand cupped his face, fingers brushing lightly over his jawline as your eyes fluttered shut. “Take it,” you mewled, breath catching as his fingers slowed. His hips shifted back over you, his heavy balls pressed snugly against your clit. “Take it all, baby. It’s yours.”

Jungkook didn’t need to be told twice. He withdrew his fingers, his wet hand wrapping around his throbbing cock. He exhaled into your neck before slipping back into your folds and you choked out a loud sigh of relief as he finally began to fill you up.

“Shittttt,” he slurred against your neck, his forehead pressing into your jaw as he sank all the way in until his hips were flush with yours. “God, baby... so fucking good.”

His body stayed pressed against yours, his chest melting into your own, every inch of his skin needing to feel yours. His lips ghosted over your collarbone, up your neck, and to your jawline, pressing gentle kisses as he moved inside you with deep, unhurried thrusts.

“Fuck, baby,” you whimpered, your hands sliding up his back, pulling him impossibly closer. You buried your face into his neck, the scent of Bvlgari and tobacco making your head spin. It was so good. So fucking him.

The warmth of his heavy body on top of you made you feel so safe, so completely his. It fueled the burning ache in your stomach, the pressure in your core building with each deep stroke.

Your brows furrowed, overwhelmed, and your eyes pooled with tears, both from pleasure and emotion. "God, I love you so much, Jungkook. You make me feel so safe a-and loved," you choked out, voice trembling.

Jungkook’s hips stilled slightly, but you felt the way his cock twitched inside you at your words. He pulled his head back, looking down at your tear-streaked face, eyes softening.

"My baby," he mumbled softly, his clean(er) hand lifting to brush away your tears before leaning down to press soft kisses over your flushed skin.

"As long as I’m alive, nothing and nobody will ever hurt a hair on your pretty little head, Y/N." He kissed over the fresh tears, licking the salty liquid off his lips before placing a soft kiss onto your pouty lips. "Besides me, of course, when you ask me to."

A watery chuckle escaped your lips as he added, "I love you more than I love myself, baby. You're my world. I would kill for you," another kiss to the corner of your mouth before he cheekily added, "almost have."

You giggled, shaking your head and leaning up to press a grateful kiss against his lips. You followed it with another, longer one, brushing softly over the cool metal of his lip rings. "Can't wait to live with you, baby."

"Mmm," he groaned in satisfaction, his hips instinctively picking up their slow, deep rhythm at your words. "Yeah? Can’t wait to be trapped in my house, nowhere to run when you’re being a little brat?"

You laughed, breathy from the way he was rolling his hips into you. "Like I get far as it is? You just follow me like a dirty stalker."

His smile turned dark and playful as his thrusts became a little sharper. "Uh-huh, and you think that would stop when we sign some stupid joint tenancy papers?"

You couldn't help the way you clenched around him at that, big eyes blinking up at him in shock. "You're letting me sign the papers with you?"

Jungkook's brows furrowed as if confused. "Baby, it's our house; why wouldn’t you?"

A grunt rumbled from your throat as you pulled him down, teeth sinking into his bottom lip. Jungkook groaned into your mouth, his hands sliding down to grip your hips tightly, his thrusts growing rougher in response to the bite.

The sounds that echoed around your bedroom were wet, needy, the slick squelching with every push and pull as he kept his pace, deep and steady. Your breaths mingled, his lips hovering over yours as he rocked into you.

Jungkook groaned lowly, his hips pressing harder, more urgent. “You feel so fucking good, baby,” he rasped, his lips pressing soft kisses along your jaw, up to your ear. “Give it to me every day, and it's still so wet and tight for me, fucking hellll.”

You keened at his praise, biting your lip harshly as his pace quickened. Your legs wrapped tighter around his waist, thighs squeezing as you pulled him deeper inside you until you were so close you were getting shoved into the headboard with each thrust.

“Ah, bab-uh! Right theree,” you whined, back arching as he hit that spot with precision, his thick head shoving against your g-spot like it was second nature. He knew your body inside out, and still, every time felt like a new fucking discovery.

Jungkook grunted lowly, his lips hovering by your ear as he thrust deeper, harder. “Right there, baby? That’s my spot, isn’t it? Feels so good when I fuck into it like that, huh?”

Your nails dug into his back as you whimpered, completely at his mercy. The slamming of the headboard against the wall was so loud but you couldn't care less. “Yes, yes, fuck, baby, that's yooourr fucking spot, uuh! Fucking take it, baby, godd!"

Jungkook groaned, his hips snapping faster, rougher, each thrust more desperate as he pounded into you. “I will,” he promised, possessiveness dripping from every word. “And you’re gonna give it to me, right, baby? Gonna beg me for it?”

“Please, baby, take it,” you cried out, your legs tightening around his waist. “Take it all, it’s yours. Just fucking take it.”

His hand gripped your hip hard, anchoring you in place as he slammed into you over and over again. He shifted you down a little so your head wasn't slamming into the headboard and his free hand slid down to rub over your slippery clit.

"Whose is it, huh? Who does this dirty fucking pussy belong to? Tell me.”

“You,” you sobbed, your body trembling beneath him, the pressure building in your core so quickly you could barely think. “It’s yours, baby. All y-yours.”

“Say my fucking name when you come,” he demanded, “and you’re gonna take everything I give you, right, baby? Greedy little pussy’s gonna suck up every drop of my fucking load. And you’re gonna hold it in there until I’m ready to turn you into a mama.”

You came so fucking hard.

It hit you all at once—your release crashing through you, your body shaking violently as a broken scream ripped from your throat, nails digging so deep into his skin you knew you’d leave marks.

“Jung—” your breath hitched in a sob “Jungkooookkkk!”

Your body arched into him, every wave of pleasure crashing through you, leaving you limp and trembling beneath him as he kept pounding into you, chasing his own release. The sound of his balls slapping against your ass echoed in your ears, barely drowning out the breathless thank yous tumbling from your lips.

“Good fucking girl,” he praised, his voice strained as his hips stuttered, his cock pulsing as he used you as a fleshlight.

“Gonna be the best daddy,” you cried, legs shaking as you let him abuse your whimpering cunt. “Can’t wait to have your fucking babies. Give you, uh, g-give you as many as you want daddy.”

“Fuck, Y/N,” he groaned, head thrown back in bliss. “Yeah? Gonna keep popping out babies for daddy until he says you’re done? Gonna let me fuck you so full until it sticks... 'til your belly’s so big you can barely fucking walk, baby?”

You could hear the slick, wet sloshing noise every time he pulled out and slammed back into your pussy, and you swore it was the prettiest sound you’d ever heard.

“Yesss, daddyyy,” you cried out, voice high and desperate. “Please make me a mommy. P-please.”

“Nghhh, fuck!”

With one final deep thrust, he spilled into you, hot and thick, his body trembling as he filled you completely. Your name fell from his lips again as your greedy walls fluttered and clenched around him, eager to milk every last drop of cum from his cock.

But he didn’t stop.

Jungkook’s hips kept rolling into yours, adjusting for a moment at the sensitivity before he sped up, dragging his softening cock against that perfect spot inside you. His thumb was cruel, chasing your swollen clit even as it tried to hide from him.

It was too much, too intense, but you couldn’t stop the way your body reacted—back arching, nails back digging back into his big shoulders, a broken wail spilling from your lips.

“Fuck, baby,” you whimpered, head falling back as the overstimulation consumed you. “I c-can'tttt—”

“Another one," Jungkook growled, his lips brushing over your jaw, kissing you through every ragged breath. “C'mon, my love, you can do it. One more. One more, then you're done, baby.”

And just like that, it hit you—your second orgasm crashing through your body, leaving your toes curling and vision blurring. You cried out his name, your entire body shaking beneath him as he kept grinding, coaxing you through every wave of pleasure until you were trembling, thighs quivering around his waist.

“God, fuck!” you sobbed, clinging to him as the last of your release pulsed through you, squeezing his soft cock tight as he groaned into your neck. You were limp, shaking, but he stayed right there.

You both knew the chance of actually getting pregnant was very slim, thanks to the implant your arm, and you weren’t ready for that. You think.

But the breeding talk always turned you both the fuck on, and that 1% chance set something dangerous ablaze inside you. The risk, however small, just made it so much hotter.

You let out a content sigh as you crashed back to earth, shaky arms looping around his neck, pulling him down, craving the weight of his body on yours. Jungkook collapsed on top of you, his breath hot against your neck as he pressed soft kisses to your skin, still buried inside you

“Did so good, my baby. Always so good for me,” he cooed, his voice low and soft, as his nose nuzzled gently against your skin, brushing over your collarbone.

A breathy giggle escaped your lips as your fingers threaded through his slightly damp hair. “Thought you said you wanted to be gentle tonight.”

Jungkook hummed lazily against your neck, his lips trailing over your skin with a soft chuckle. “That was gentle,” he murmured, sinking deeper into your warm skin.

You snorted softly, shaking your head. “You’re not wrong,” you replied, your chest still heaving slightly as your hand slid soothingly up and down his back. You felt him smile against your neck, his arms tightening around you, his cock still nestled deep, clearly in no rush to pull out anytime soon.

For a moment, it was peaceful—the sound of your mingled breaths the only noise in the room. Then, Jungkook lifted his head slightly, glancing at the soft glow of your Mac screen. His eyes caught the time, and he let out an annoyed groan, burying his face deeper into your skin.

“Hm? What’s wrong?” you asked, your fingers still threading through his hair as you glanced toward the screen yourself. Your heart dropped when you saw the time.

“You’ve got to be up in, like, three hours,” you mumbled, running your hand down his back, your feet sliding up and down the back of his thighs in an attempt to soothe him.

Jungkook’s body tensed slightly at the reminder, his lips still pressed to your neck. You could feel the irritation in his silence, and your heart sank at the thought of him leaving before you even woke up.

“I’ll make your lunch before I come into work at eight, baby,” you offered softly, your voice gentle as you tried to ease his frustration. “I can bring it up to y—”

“I’m not going,” he interrupted, his voice firm but soft against your skin.

Your heart stilled at his words, and you pulled back slightly, trying to see his face. “What do you mean, you’re not going?”

“I’m not going in tomorrow,” he repeated, lifting his head to meet your gaze. “And you’re not either. We’re staying right here until we both get some real sleep.”

You blinked in surprise. “But—”

“And then,” he cut you off again, his lips brushing yours as he spoke, “we’re gonna wake up, pack your shit, and move into our house.”

Your heart fluttered in your chest. “Yeah?” you whispered, your voice barely audible as you looked into his eyes, searching for any hint of hesitation.

Jungkook nodded, his lips curving into a soft smile as he leaned down to kiss you pouty lips, his hands brushing back your hair. “Told you, you can’t run from me anymore, baby.”

You grinned against his lips, wrapping your arms around his neck as you kissed him deeply, your heart swelling with love.

“I love you so much, my dirty stalker,” you cooed against his mouth, your fingers drifting to trace over your name inked across his chest.

Jungkook’s eyes crinkled as his lips pressed softly against yours again, his body relaxing as he breathed you in. “I love you more, my crazy girl."

END.

WOW what a ride!! let me know what you think?? love you 🖤

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falcqns · 3 years

Note

Hii i have this request in mind like Chris Evans x Actress! Singer! Reader like the reader and chris dated for 3y idk but they broke up but the reader always visit chris’ family bc she treated them like family aswell specialy when the reader’s parents died so she spend Christmas there or any occasions bc chris’ family invite her and when chris got a new gf the reader is kinda hurt bc she still love chris but she try to look like she doesn’t care but then she released her new song its called deja vu (by olivia rodrigo) and she release it to her bday so when the song is released the fans knew its abt chris bc of the new gf (chris’ fam doesn’t like the new gf and the fans kinda didn’t support them bc of the girl’s attitude) and chris’ family invites her over bc they want to show the reader something and when the reader got there they surprise her for her bday and congratulate her and turns out chris is there too with his new gf🤨and the reader knew chris’ new gf hated her bc of her look and scott called you all to the living room and watch the mv of the reader’s new song and when the mv ends scott and the fam congratuleted the reader and chris’ gf is giving the reader looks again and chris is noticing it and when the reader is in the kitchen alone getting something chris talk to her and congratulate her and chris’ new gf wrapped her arms around chris and chris tried to stop her to make a scene but she started a scene and scream at the reader but the reader cut her off and embarrassing her and the reader prove the new gf shes first not her (idk if that make sense lol) and the new gf leave(idk you can make her a random name so its not only “new gf”) and the reader and chris talk and they got back together, you can do wha you want at the end this is just so random bc i was listening to deja vu and advance thank you if you do my request! Stay safe! ❤️ and im so sorry if this is so long

Deja Vu

pairing: Chris Evans x singer!reader

warnings: parents death, major angst, fluff.

a/n: thank you for the request! Hope you enjoy!

You had known Chris since college, when you had met him in your communications class. You two had grown close quickly, and became best friends.

He brought you home every Christmas Eve, before you would go home to your parents house on Christmas Day. You had always felt like a part of the family, so when your parents passed a way, you turned to him.

You and your parents were driving home from a Christmas Day church service, when you were hit by a semi truck. It had completely totalled the car, and your parents had died on impact. You had been sitting in the back, and only had a broken leg from where your moms seat had been pushed back into it roughly.

You had been pulled from the car and sat in a second ambulance, while your parents were transported in another. You knew you'd never forget watching that ambulance door close and drive away, knowing that was the last time you'd ever see them.

When the police officers asked if there was anyone you could call, you didn't know what to do. Your parents were both only children, so you had no aunts, uncles or cousins. You were an only child too, so you had no siblings, and your grandparents had passed when you were little, your other ones passing before you were born.

So when the officer asked you, you told him the Evans’ phone number. Lisa picked up on the second ring, and you tearfully explained what had happened as the shock wore off. She immediately said she’d meet you at the hospital, and not to worry, that she and Bob would take care of you.

You were taken to the hospital and treated for your broken leg. Less than an hour after you arrived, Lisa arrived at the hospital with Chris in tow. They comforted you, and took you home with them. You stayed in Chris’s room for the first few days, and when you were given your own room, you still had a hard time sleeping alone, so Chris ended up in your bed with you most nights, not that he minded.

You never went back to college, and instead turned to singing as a release from all the pain you were feeling. You started out posting covers on YouTube, and gradually progressed to getting a record deal with Interscope Records, which didn't surprise anyone who knew you. You had immense talent, and your parents used to tell you that they were counting down the days before you were a celebrity.

When Chris graduated college and told you he was moving to Los Angeles, he convinced you to come with him. Prices were high in LA, and he didn't want to be separated from you for too long, so you joined him. He got to be an actor, and you got to be a singer, which is what you both had wanted since you were younger.

You went to every one of Chris’s movie premieres, and he attended as many of your live shows as he could. You supported him through all his relationships and his breakups, and played the middle man whenever he and Jenny would fight, up until the very end. You told yourself you did that because you just wanted what's best for him, but you both kind of knew that wasn't the reason at all.

Throughout your time living together, you friendship grew, as did your feelings for each other. You'd be lying if you didn't have a small crush on him in college, and those feelings only grew as time went on, especially since the two of you decided to only get a one bedroom apartment. Mainly because it was cheap, but also because Chris made a decision a week after your parents death to never allow you to sleep alone because of the nightmares that would occur if he wasn't there.

So, when you won your first award for your first album, named ‘hand in hand’, he kissed you the second you came off the stage with your award in hand. It blew your mind that he felt the same, but you were happy nonetheless. You two began dating that night, and everything was perfect.

Until, you were invited by 5 Seconds of Summer to be their opening act on their newest tour. You had agreed, and Chris let you go. You two had been dating for over 3 years, and you thought your relationship would be fine.

You quickly realized however that that wasn't the case, when the two of you started fighting less than two weeks into the tour. The fights weren't anything major, more petty things like ‘did you change the Netflix password’ or ‘why did you take this piece of clothing, that was mine and it was my favourite.’ All around stupid fights.

You had turned to Calum, who you were closest with, and he consoled you as much as you could. You realized however, that you couldn't be with Chris anymore when he drunk called you in the middle of the night while you were in the UK and got angry with you when you answered and told him to call you back in the morning when he was sober, to which he proceeded to brag that he slept with his co star at the time, Jessica Alba, you freaked out and ended things.

You got a message from Jessica on instagram the next day letting you know that they did not sleep together, and that she was sorry he even said it. You assured her it was fine, and felt relief.

Relief because you got to the bottom of the situation, but also relief from your relationship. You didn't know what happened in those few weeks, but you knew the relationship was turning toxic, and you wanted to stop it before that happened. Neither you or Chris needed that. You told him you’d find a new place to live, and by the time tour ended, you bought yourself a house in Beverly Hills, and moved out of the apartment.

Chris moved out not long after, and bought his own house. He had tried to stay friends with you, but you didn't want that at that point in time. You were still hurting, and needed time to heal.

Once you felt ready to date again, you were asked to be Calum’s date to the Peoples Choice Awards, you accepted. You knew Chris would be there, and you were hoping to talk to him, and maybe work it out. He had told you during the break up that he would always wait for you to come back, and that he still loved you, and always would.

But you knew that wasn't the case when he showed up on the red carpet, with a new actress named Myra Woodfield. You had smiled at him, while trying not to break down inside, but he gave you a dirty look and rolled his eyes at you when Calum wrapped his arm around your waist for a picture. You furrowed your eye brows and took a good look at Myra.

She looked almost exactly like you. Same build, same hair colour, same eye colour. The only difference is that she was slightly taller than you. You didn't know why he was replacing you, but it hurt. You pushed it out of your head however, and enjoyed the night with your best friend.

It was a few months later when you were awoken by the constant dinging of your phone. You unlocked it, and saw you had a lot of unread messages from Luke, Ashton, Michael, Calum, and your other best friend Ashe about Chris’s new movie trailer, you sighed.

You watched the trailer, and sighed when it looked like a recreation of a bunch of moments in your relationship with him, only Myra was in your place.

Your fans and some of Chris’s had commented on it, and Myra immediately became aggressive with them, and insulted them. She told them that you were a nobody who could make Chris happy, which she was glad about because she made him happy how.

Within minutes of this happening the hashtag #cancelmyrawoodfield was trending on twitter. You shamelessly went through the tweets and like and retweeted a couple. Then an idea popped in your head.

With a quick google search, you had a plan.

You had written a new song called Deja Vu after the peoples choice awards, and it was had been recorded a few weeks ago, and you just had to decide on a date to release it, and make a decision on the music video. Her birthday was in about 3 months, which gave you enough time to get everything in place to drop on her birthday.

Was it evil? Yes. Did you care? Not really. Besides, you inherited your pettiness from your mother and you knew she’d be proud of you. You called your manager and label, and got it planned out.

When the new music video had been announced, Lisa called you and invited you home to watch it premiere with the family. You accepted, knowing Chris and Myra would be there, and that her birthday would get overshadowed by the release of your music video.

So, three weeks later, you were sitting with Lisa, Bob, Carly, Shanna, Scott, Chris and Myra in Lisa’s living room, waiting for the video to premiere.

Scott had picked you up at the airport earlier in the morning along with Carly and Shanna, and the four of you had a laugh about the face that no one acknowledged Myra’s birthday, not even Chris. It was mean, but no one liked her.

Lisa absolutely hated her, but didn't want to upset Chris, so you got a call shortly after the PCA’s from her and the two of you ranted about her for a good two hours.

You watched as the timer counted down from 10, and then the screen turned black. You took a deep breath and watched Chris out of the corner of your eye.

You had searched for a while for a guy who looked similar to Chris, and you stumbled on Andrew Siwicki. He didn't look exactly like Chris, but it was close enough that everyone would know who the song was about if they didn't already. Andrew was a fan of Chris and hated Myra too, so he was more than glad to help you out.

The music began to play, and you watched as the black screen faded in on two people walking along the beach, holding hands.

“Car rides to Malibu Strawberry ice cream One spoon for two And trading jackets Laughing 'bout how small it looks on you,”

The next scene was a recreation of yours and Chris’s first date where you two had a picnic on the beach, and ended up splashing each other with the ocean water. Towards the end, everyone watched as Andrew picked you up and threw you into the water the same way Chris always did.

You glanced at him, and could have burst into laughter at how uncomfortable Chris looked, but more importantly how angry Myra looked.

“Watching reruns of Glee Being annoying Singing in harmony I bet she's bragging To all her friends, saying you're so unique, hmm,”

The next scene was you and Andrew (who was dressed as Ransom) on what appeared to be a recreation of the Knives Out set, running around with a dog that looked like Dodger chasing after you, the two of you laughing. The next shot was the two of you kissing behind a trailer, seemingly hiding from production.

“So when you gonna tell her That we did that too? She thinks it's special But it's all reused That was our place, I found it first I made the jokes you tell to her when she's with you,”

The next scene was the two of you driving through Southern California, in a car that was almost identical to Chris’s. You two were laughing and singing along to the song, your hair whipping around you.

You took a deep breath, knowing this next scene would piss him right off.

“Do you get déjà vu when she's with you? Do you get déjà vu? (Ah), hmm Do you get déjà vu, huh?”

This scene was you, along with the rest of Chris’s family sitting around a living room that looked like the one you were in now, a Christmas tree full of presents in the corner. The camera panned across everyone as everyone was talking and settled on you and Andrew and the two of you recreated the scene where Chris whispered in your ear how much he loved you, and couldn't wait to start a family with you.

“Do you call her Almost say my name? 'Cause let's be honest We kinda do sound the same,”

The screen showed you and Andrew saying goodbye at the airport, with 5 Seconds of Summer standing behind you. They weren't actually there when you left for tour, but Luke suggested it to piss Chris off, and you had agreed.

Then there was a small montage of clips from tour, including a shot of Michael elbow dropping Ashton into a pool, which made everyone laugh, except Chris and Myra. The montage was followed up by you sitting on the floor of a dressing room and crying as you sent a text that said “I’m done.”

“Another actress I hate to think that I was just your type,”

Now you were on the red carpet, with Calum right beside you. You both were wearing the same clothes you wore on that night, you hair and makeup recreated perfectly. The camera unfocused on you as you turned and looked at Andrew and an actress named Alexa Morrison, who looked a lot like Myra, and they were recreating Chris and Myra’s actions perfectly. The camera swivelled around and came to rest pointing towards your face, as you looked in shock, and a single tear fell down your face.

“I'll bet that she knows Billy Joel 'Cause you played her Uptown Girl You're singing it together,”

You were shown watching a movie trailer with Ashe sitting next to you, while you sobbed at what Alexa and Andrew were doing. You looked at the camera and began singing the song, while Ashe and everything else around you was frozen.

“Now I bet you even tell her How you love her In between the chorus and the verse (ooh) (I love you),”

You were sat on the bed in Chris’s red flannel that you had stolen before leaving for tour, and you were writing in the notebook aggressively with tears rolling down your face and singing.

“So when you gonna tell her That we did that too? She thinks it's special But it's all reused That was the show we talked about Played you the song she's singing now when she's with you,”

You were now being shown sitting on the couch, and watching Andrew run across the TV screen dressed as Captain America, an ice cream tub in your hand. You were wearing sweats and a t shirt, your hair in a messy bun.

“Do you get déjà vu when she's with you? Do you get déjà vu? Oh Do you get déjà vu?”

The camera circled around you before transitioning to the next scene.

“Strawberry ice cream in Malibu Don't act like we didn't do that shit too You're trading jackets like we used to do (Yeah, everything is all reused),”

You were shown laying down in bed, and your eyes closing before an image of you and Andrew danced, dressed as Steve and Peggy in endgame, a scene Chris always told you the two of you would recreate one day. You had called Hayley and asked if it was okay, and she immediately said yes, and even came and watched you do the scene.

“Play her piano, but she doesn't know (oh, oh) That I was the one who taught you Billy Joel (oh) A different girl now, but there's nothing new (I know you get déjà vu),”

When your eyes opened, you were sitting at your piano, and playing while singing along.

“I know you get déjà vu I know you get déjà vu,”

Suddenly, the piano disappeared, and you were left standing in an empty living room as the screen faded to black.

The entire room burst into cheers as the video ended, except for Myra, who looked like she was going to murder you, and Chris who just clapped with a tight lipped smile.

Later that night after all the kids had gone to bed and Lisa was driving Bob home, Scott had pulled you into the kitchen under the pretences of ‘helping him fix a drink’, which ended up just being the two of you gossiping about Chris and Myra, and the music video.

Suddenly, Chris walked in, and nodded for Scott to leave. You cleared your throat and ignored him.

“That was a good song, and an amazing music video.” He said. “I can see you're just getting more and more talented as time-” He began, as you rolled your eyes, and looked at him.

“What do you want?” You asked bluntly.

“I just wanted to congratulate you.” He said, and you were about to open your mouth, when Myra came slinking in the room with an evil look on her face.

“Nice job, Y/N. I’m glad I could inspire your music video.” She said sarcastically, and you could tell Chris was about to defend you, but you opened your mouth first.

“Well, I’m glad I had such a snake like bitch to draw inspiration from,” You said, and heard Scott, his siblings burst into laughter in the living room. Myra’s jaw dropped and she turned to look at him. You looked up at Chris, who was leaning up against the counter, and biting back a smile.

“You’re just going to let her talk to me like that?” She asked, and Chris sighed.

“Myra, don't start. Not now.” He said, she scoffed.

“I knew you still loved her. Only a pathetic loser could love someone as ugly and untalented as her.” She spat, and Chris growled. You felt tears welling up in your eyes, and you ran out of the room, your drink abandoned on the counter.

You ran into your bedroom, where you shut the door, and fell onto the bed in tears.

Back in the kitchen, Chris had gotten in Myra’s face, and was yelling.

“DON’T YOU DARE TALK TO HER LIKE THAT! SHE’S BEEN THROUGH SO MUCH SHIT IN HER LIFE, AND I WON’T ALLOW YOU TO ADD TO THAT!” He screamed, as Scott, Carly, and Shanna ran to the door, unsure of what to do. “SHE IS SO TALENTED, WAY MORE TALENTED THAN YOU! YOU’RE THE REASON PRODUCTION TOOK SO DAMN LONG, IT TOOK FOREVER TO GET A PERFORMANCE OUT OF YOU! YOU OPENLY INSULTED HER AND HER FANS HOURS AFTER YOU WERE ANNOUNCED TO BE IN THIS MOVIE, AND THEN HAD THE AUDACITY TO COME TO ME CRYING BECAUSE YOUR LITTLE FEELINGS GOT HURT!” He screamed, and Shanna ran and backed Chris away from her.

“YOU’RE MY BOYFRIEND! AND ITS MY BIRTHDAY, YET HERE YOU ARE, CONGRATULATING HER FOR A SHITTY MUSIC VIDEO!” Myra screamed, and it was Scott’s turn to get in her face.

“You need to leave. If you don't we’re going to call the cops.” He stated, and Myra rolled her eyes before storming out of the house.

Scott turned back to Chris, and was shocked when he saw him in tears.

“You need to work shit out with Y/N. It’s clear the two of you are still in love, and you need to figure it out as adults,” Scott said, his sisters nodding. Chris took a deep breath, and looked at your closed bedroom door.

Chris walked up to your bedroom door, and took a deep breath before entering the room where he used to sleep in every night.

He opened the door, and saw you curled up in a ball on the bed, your body still shaking. He smiled sadly, and walked into the room, closing the door behind him. He sat on the bed behind you, and rubbed your back gently.

“I’m sorry. Not just for what Myra said, but for everything. For breaking your heart, and for causing you so much pain. I didn't realize how much I was missing you too until we watched that music video and I saw how truly broken you were. I never noticed that before now. And I’m sorry I didn't. If I’d have, I could have fixed this sooner, and we could be together right now.” He said.

You furrowed your brows at his last sentence and sat up.

“W-What?” You asked, and Chris moved closer. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into a hug.

“I still love you. So so much.” He smiled, and a tear rolled down his face. “You're my entire world, and not having you here is slowly breaking me apart. I didn't know just how much until today, but I can't live another day without you.” He said. “I’m so sorry I hurt you baby.” He sobbed, and his head buried itself into your hair. Your body shook with sobs too, and you turned around to face him.

“I love you too.” You sobbed out. “I never should have ended things, but-” You said, but were cut off by Chris’s lips on yours, and you felt yourself melting into it.

He pulled away a few seconds later. “Don't. It was my fault, not yours. I am so sorry, and I am going to spend the rest of my life making up for it, I promise.” He said, as he stood the two of you up and led you out of the room, and to his.

“Where are we going?” You asked, and Chris pressed a kiss to your cheek.

“I have to grab something.” He said. He opened his closet, and grabbed something out of the top corner before turning to you.

“I said I planned on spending the rest of my life making it up to you, and I plan on keeping that promise.” He said, as he got down on one knee. You gasped, as he opened the box and your dream engagement ring was inside. “I want you for the rest of my life, and the next. Will you marry me?” he asked, tears pouring down his face, just like yours.

You nodded enthusiastically, and Chris stood up. He placed the ring on your ring finger and scooped you up. “I love you,” You choked out, and Chris sobbed harder into you.

“I love you too, and I’m never letting you go.”

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#chris evans #chris evans fic #chris evans x you #chris evans actor #chris evans x y/n #chris evans x reader #chris evans smut #Chris Evans x singer!reader #5 seconds of summer #ashe #chris evans x female reader #Chris Evans x fiancee reader

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papers4me · 3 years

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Fruits Basket Manga Review , ch 109

-The Tragedy of a an episodic format attempting to connect narrative in a series: (Tohru’s Background or Kyo’s Focus?)

One of my issues with se03, ep6 (other than it being 3 chapters combined horribly with new material added for shock value) is that it was weakly undecided who would be the focus? who would the narrative follow?: Is it tohru’s own pov abt herself? is it the gramps giving boring exposition abt tohru over weak still images of flashbacks or is kyo thinking abt tohru’s pain?

The truth is, it was all the above in the manga, but the manga gave each a chapter focus so that the chapter is well-directed with focused narrative. The anime weakly jumbled the 3 chapters together as they always do. You mix chapters & tada~ you got an ep, you only need a broad weak theme that connects the dots! here: it is tohru! & that’s it. As long as the 3 chapters discuss tohru in any form & manner, nothing will seem off if we put them next to each other in a 20 minute ep! right? riiiiiight ????

.. this was never a correct way. Just like a chapter needed a narrative direction, the ep is the same!!

ch 107: The beginning of tohru’s pov on her realization abt loving kyo.

ch108: tohru’s full pov of shock upon reaching the conclusion that she loves him & the beginning of her mom’s issues & abandonment.

ch109: Kyo’s pov abt tohru’s pain & his involvement, guil & the sheet hug.

ch110: (completely cut from the anime!!!!!!!!!!!!!) Kyoru’s part: the aftermath of kyo & tohru crossing the line of being in the most vulnerable & intimate, building towards a more crushing impact of the climax. The stronger & more painful their love is, the more it will hurt. Also a yuchi buildup?!!!!

-so, you see each chapter has a direction i& a narrative it follows independently that is weaved together to make a connected tissue of the overall plot. The anime puts the 3 chapters next to each other & we are lost on who to follow? kyo or tohru or the gramps. That’s why it feels tohru is weak & her two chapters worth of pov is stolen from her cuz it cut or shortened to include the grandpa, kyo, isuzu, shigure & let’s not forget (kazuma, yuki & haru) at the beginning, the dramatic shock value addition & OP & ED. All these take valuable screen time. The ep shocks us by moving from tohru to kyo. One minute she’s crying with him on the streets, next he’s at the grave & she’s visiting isuzu.

Kyo said he isn't going to the grave in the ep, upon seeing him actually going, I just assumed he wanted to avoid, hana, cuz I’m so invested in his story that I remember sth happened in se1, ep 14.. ages ago, The anime didn’t even allow kyo to inner talk abt avoiding hana... In their weird mind, kyo only inner talks in dramatic situations..See the difference!

Not only the writer (a) reminds us why kyo avoided the grave visit, she also (b) seized the opportunity to shine lifht onto an issue that will be the center of kyo’s struggles: Running away!

The anime introduce this in kyo’s pov only when kyo confronts tohru. Only when it was needed & couldnt be avoided. This is sth that will be the core of all the climax & the aftermath as well! Kyo running away.. How bad are you if you avoid inserting one line only that can be said in few seconds & establish great deal & foreshadow plenty!!!!!!!!!! I can’t for the life of my understand why short lines are cut from kyo when in the anime they have him be standing silent in the graveyard. Like slap the line above the silent scene!!!!! But doing so means the anime team understands tohru & kyo’s issues. They don’t. Not the slightest.

-Ep 6 signals the beginning of the anime moving from episodic format of se1, 2 & 5 eps of se3 & entering a connect plot. The anime doesn’t know how to do that & screwed tohru in the process. The protagonist’s main issues are one ep worth only. The antagonist main issues are one ep only (ep7). Ep 6, was treated as a stand alone ep (minus the inserted shock scene to create a lingering issue that needs a following ep to explain. TOLD YOU they don’t know how to make a series!). Thus the following ep 7 is akito’s focus. Everything that was established in ep 6 was pit on hold until akito reaches the craziest mindset for the climax. See why ep 6 was so bad? it is Should NOT be a stand alone ep.

-The plot connects kyoru emotional & physically: (Kyo’s chapter with a tohru’s focus:

Unlike the anime, the chapter knows what it’s presenting 7 where it’s going. Kyo’s issues. This ch focuses on him uncovering parts of his past as it connects with tohru’s. Unlike the anime, we know why kyo's connection to kyoko’s past. The anime is hiding this for the climax, no problem, it can still work both ways. However, hiding kyoko /kyo connection doesn't necessarily mean hiding kyoko/tohru connection. But the anime is cutting this to milk it in an ova or series next year~ no problem, it can still work if you handle this ep’s flashback better. for all the artistic creativity they inserted in the added scene, they failed miserably in tohru’s flashback portion. how?

By choosing a frontal pov shot in tohru’s grandpa flashback as if the audience are the ones who abandoned tohru or opening the door to find her alone. it does NOT work at all. why? the audience are encouraged to be like tohru since ep 1 as tohru is the mother, angel, fixer & endearing hopeful girl. The audience will NEVER abandon tohru, that’s why tohru’s story felt disconnected & weak in the anime. Not knowing what kyoko did, who would abandon such child?! differently not us. so why use the frontal pov shot? -_-’

-tohru confesses her pain to kyo without being ushered by isuzu, without any outside factor. She simply visited the grave & came home. hiding her pain. once again. like she always do. One question by kyo, prompts her to “ complain a little” call back to se1, ep5 as he advised. we see tohru get out of her shell little by little. NOT SCREAM OR SLAP. She opened up. why? cuz the story is abt “ opening the lid” not abt “ snatching the lid”. No need for shocks. Yuki opened his lide slowly, tohru even slower, kyo is resisting opening his altho it is cracking in this chapter. When your story focuses on character buildup it pays!

-I’ll give the anime credit when it due. The hug scene is so good both in manga & anime. but so awesome in animation, colors, music & voice acting. It’s breathtaking & painful. The most beautiful kyoru scene in the whole anime.

-It represents their mutual vulnerability, understanding, pain & determination to love the other but not also let go. kyo has made his mind to be locked in order not to hurt tohru & tohru has made her mind that she can’t let go of her mom.

You see, the scene’s meaning hits different between manga & anime; In the anime: tohru has already challenged the sohmas & screamed to be with kyo, while kyo is still decided to leave her. In the manga: they’re both at the same spot (undecided). I like both interpretations but I’ll choose the manga’s version. Simply cuz it means tohru is still uncovering her issues which means more focus on her, & more explanation of why cant tohru love her mom & kyo at the same time.

-This expression on tohru’s face is a the complete opposite of the shock value expression in ep 6! T_T. I do’nt even hate the shocked scene addition itself that much, I just think (a) this is NOT its time! Tohru deserved better spotlight! (b) kyo didn’t friggen forget! ah! THIS I HATE! (c) the whole shocked scene was so wasted in ep 7. tohru return to her stupid dumb lalala~ land, cooking & forgetting kyo. what growth? what determination & screams to isuzu? what enduring kagura’s slaps? nope! just happy & cooking, lalala~ no one was freaking over her mom’s picture~ lalala~ & kyo just slept it over~ shhhh... its okay. he’ll forget again... see? totally wasted!

The anime knows nothing abt connected narrative! augh!

Side Notes:

We see kyo asking the gramps why he’s offering him info abt tohru which is so logical! XD. I love it.

I’ve read ch 110 & wanted to insert the kyoru scene in ch 110 here, & put yuchi alone in a different post, then I realized I’ll need to talk abt it again once I analyze yuki’s own expressions! XD. so, I’ll put all ch 110 together in one post. It kinda half written by now, so I’ll publish it very soon in two days time. I didn’t read ch 111 yet tho.

I hope ch 110 is the last I feel this much disappointments in furuba’s anime & by ch 11, it hopefully be be minor changes altho I doubt that cuz the manga needed to dwell into tohru’s mindset & the anime kinda stopped after ep 6. so, yup! more big changes coming!

The sheet hug is so brilliant in theory & application! so romantic & so endearing! love it so much! The anime did it so well, too!

I love kyo’s narration & pov cuz it’s so refreshing change from the anime where he rarely does!

I really wish they kept the kyoko abandoning tohru part in the anime... sigh~ it has nothing much to affect her story with katsuya. so it won’t ruin the spin off/ ova or whatever it’s called.

I love the light focus on tohru in this chapter & how organic & natural it is opposed to how forced the plot seems in the anime....

#Anime Only #manga spoilers #Fruits Basket #fruits basket manga #disappointed paper

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sunnydaleherald · 3 years

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The Sunnydale Herald Newsletter - Monday, March 7

BUFFY: So here's the part where you make a choice: What if you could have that power...now? In every generation, one slayer is born... because a bunch of men who died thousands of years ago made up that rule. They were powerful men. This woman (points to Willow) is more powerful than all of them combined. So I say we change the rule. I say my power should be our power...From now on, every girl in the world who might be a slayer will be a slayer...Every girl who could have the power, will have the power... can stand up, will stand up. Slayers... every one of us. Make your choice. Are you ready to be strong?

~~Chosen~~

[Drabbles & Short Fiction]

Second Time’s The Charm (Gen crossover, G) by Misha (Mishamcm)

Not This Girl, Not This Day...Please (Fred/Wesley, T) by Gabriel_Is_My_Guardian_Angel89

[Chaptered Fiction]

In Human Chapter 1 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by Jim Wicked

Daughter of Aurelius Chapter 43 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by Loup Noir

I Almost Do Chapter 6 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by artemisthestargazer

Why Are There 26 Letters? Chapter 3 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by Indi_Shaw

Aftercare Chapter 1 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by MaggieLaFey

Chosen One Chapter 22 (Buffy/Spike, R) by all_choseny

Damage Case Chapter 16 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by Axell

The Ring Talks Chapter 10 (Buffy/Spike, 18+) by Myrabeth

The Heist Chapter 1 (Buffy/Spike, E) by Ifeelittoo21

Bait & Switch Chapter 1 (Buffy/Spike, M) by JaneRemmington

[Images, Audio & Video]

PODCAST: 6.9 – "Smashed" by Beep Me Pod

[Reviews & Recaps]

He’s A Vampire - He Should Die (Becoming: Part Three) by herinsectreflection

[Community Announcements]

Seasonal Spuffy is back by seasonal-spuffy

[Fandom Discussions]

selfless by summrsbuffy

It’s been 20 years and Spuffy fans are still reconciling, still debating, and still dealing with scrutiny by house-monster-fucker

fuffy ask by restlesshush

Day Six: Favorite Fight Scene by frankierose

got mad again abt darla’s death by chasingfictions

It still really bothers me that Xander just went and told Dawn about what Spike did by house-monster-fucker

Buffy's line in selfless by ex-vengeancedemon

Angel's Opening Sequence vs Buffy's Opening Sequence by American Aurora

How long before it is time to reboot or Next Generation Buffy on TV? by PuckRobin

Buffy The Last Vampire Slayer # 4(of 4) (Spoilers) by BAF

But I Never forgot what he really was ! by Btvs fan

What is your very favorite thing about AtS? by Spanky

Origin of Xander and Willow’s affair? by Climbingup

Similarities between main plot and sub-plots in season 2 by Nothing13

Becoming II : If Buffy would have send Angelus to hell by spikenbuffy

I wish the series kept its procedural style by jdpm1991

Buffy's roommate Kathy appreciation thread by jdpm1991

Places where the timeline doesn't work by Tuxedo_Mark

Fanfic recs for de-chipped Spike? by Darkfire359

S3 Thoughts (as of E6) by StrawberryGirl_7

I don’t think S5 has a good feeling by Relevant-Mission27

Harmony by Soft_Grape1928

Does anyone know WHY Faith went evil and all apocalypsey? by Crimedramagirl

which Buffy season is best? by Open_Highlight_7728

if Spike is souless…? by Academic_Witness_337

People who weren’t the age to watch Buffy or weren’t alive when Buffy first aired... by Relevant-Mission27

Why is Spike’s love considered selfish? by Academic_Witness_337

Question: Dark Willow Vamp? by Belthezare

Favorite Moment That Made You Proud/Happy? by Opening_Knowledge868

[Articles, Interviews, and Other News]

ARTICLE: Buffy the Vampire Slayer: “Selfless” and Solitude by 25 years later

Submit a link to be included in the newsletter!

#buffy #Buffy The Vampire Slayer #btvs #angel #angel the series #ats

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urmomification · 4 years

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SWAG ANOTHER DREAM SMP AU FIC IDEA THAT ILL NEVER WRITE POG

this is a very long post please im so sorry my brain it just

(tw for like slight possession n shit)

(sorry its all jumbled i write all of these in discord to my friend and copy paste them here please if u have questions ask me im always willing to talk abt this shit please it haunts me)

(context: i saw a tiktok abt the hc that both dream and techno are gods of some sort bc theyre mentioned in the tales of the smp by karl a time traveller and my brain just ran w it)

going back to the techno and dream are gods thing right so dream is a vessel for the god dream xd (??? work in progress youll know what im talking about at some point its really funny tho uve def seen clips of it) and he was possessed?? by the god after the server started (when he started going from super friendly with everyone to control/power hungry) when he started sacrificing everything for power so no one could have power over him? that was the god making him do it bc the god was terrified of not being in control since theyd lost it all to techno in their past. thats why we never see dream and techno fight and why we see dream extend help and support to him at times as well as respecting his boundaries and such bc theyre scared of techno (again w the best of 10 duel reference, techno killed the god in a past life which is why the god has been forced to use a human vessel to get anything done on the mortal plane) but when something that powerful spends pretty much any amount of time in something mortal and mundane like a person, the host body starts to change (hence the mask) i like to think that the god would be akin to that of a biblically correct angel?? like the ones w multiple eyes n shit yk so after time things start to happen to normal dreams body he gets extra sets of eyes and he gets taller and overall his body seems just Too Small for whatevers inside of him and thats why he (hc) started wearing the mask in the first place he knew something was wrong w him but he didnt want anyone to know even tho they would most likely help him he was ashamed that he was different in the first place so he started wearing the mask once the other eyes showed up. and i think that the god would talk to dream similarly to how technos voices work yk? except its just the one voice instead of many many small ones. and again with the mask thing when he lost to tommy and they took him in, part of his mask broke to the point where u could see just a bit of the right side of his face but enough to see that it Wasnt Right there were two eyes where there shouldve been one and spots on his cheeks bright enough to resemble stars and where the color of his pupil should have been is just a sickeningly neon green with nothing else behind it. so they let him keep the mask even tho they already know something is wrong but it clearly makes him Very Distressed when asked to remove the mask or told to give it up. blah blah blah god harassing its host bc it got them caught and thrown in a prison and dream goes ever so slightly insane having to share a mind and body with a literal ancient god w a vendetta against everything hes built whos forced him to sacrifice everything he loved and cared for out of fear yk the usual prison shit and then techno comes a long and breaks him out or whatever but on their way back to his house he drops a really cryptic line abt how 'its nice to see an old friend again' and 'i thought i got rid of u for good last time' and dream is just ???? what are u talking about?? weve never been friends and youve never gotten rid of me? what. until techno spins around and just 'im not talking to you im talking to the thing inside u' or whatever and dreams eyes flash some brilliant gold or sumn and boom this is ur fellow god speaking how may i help you and dream xd (that feels so wrong to say but) and techno bond or well ig just talk abt how the past centuries have gone and ig while xd is fronting (??? i think itd kinda be like DID in a sense w multiple people being able to front yk?) dream is in a sort of semi conscious state but still hears everything going on around his own body until hes thrown back into the drivers seat (i think that xd would only be able to front for short periods of time due to the vessel n shit that makes sense right) and hes so confused someone please help him hes just a dude who happened to get possessed by a god someone help him so when they finally get back to technos house he sits dream down and explains the best he can without literally melting dreams brain. which would also play into the 'technoblade never dies' bc hes. literally a god. mortals cant kill him unless they have idk some sort of super weapon idk and blah blah blah xd gets what they want and finally has the ability to leave finally leaving dream literally the shell of a man with no home friends materials or anything with techno to basically take care of him until he reaches some semblance of stability again (which would take ages, realistically (wdym realistically) going from normal, to a god sharing a body with you and speaking in you brain living as a single being together and hearing their thoughts, to back to normal but with all the memories of what you did and what they made you do and also no more god speaking in ur head it would take a hot sec to recover from) so he lives with techno (whos, not to mention, another god) for a while until he can fend for himself again and after a good year or so passes and no one hears from dream they start to look for him and see what happened bc he went from the biggest threat on the server to just. gone. no one knows where he went after whatever he did and they want closure. is he dead?? who knows. so george and sap set out looking for him and decide to ask techno for help since hes good w directions n shit also he was the last person to see dream alive so he might have an idea of where he is and they walk up to his house and knock on his door and techno opens it and just stares at them he knows who they are, dreams talked about them before but hes never met them really so he talks to them, getting through the polite hellos how are yous before sap finally asks 'do you know what happened to dream? no one knows where he went and we just want closure' techno huffs and tells them to wait there he (this is the basement door im using his arctic tundra house in my head) goes down the ladder to the second basement, they can hear him talking to multiple people (ranboo phil dream) but cant tell who everyone is before coming back up the ladder, back to the door. he tells them to wait outside he needs to get something first (its dream hes getting dream) theyre standing out by carls stable when the door creaks open and dream steps out looking around for who the fuck could possibly be looking for them he betrayed everyone and most people thought he was dead who could possibly be here asking for himself and not ranboo or philza and when he steps out, his green hoodie (memento made by ranboo to help him cope w the loss of the voice in his head) catching the morning light off the snow and he was happy and then he saw them standing by the house hed grown to call home at least for now he breaks. he missed them so so much it hurt. he never expected to see them ever again much less them come looking to see him but hes scared he realizes he doesnt know what to say there is nothing to say he fucked them all over he ruined everything and then hes being hugged. they missed him too. they dont forgive him jsut yet but they missed him and thats enough for him right now. the three of them stand there just being in each others presences and techno creaks the door open to make sure they arent trying to kill each other and sighs and leans against the frame smiling. hes happy again and thats the best he can do for him. he invites them all in and offers to explain everything to them to try and ease the blame off of dream bc in all honesty it was his fault but xd made it far far worse that it should have been (a bit late but foot note abt xd i think that they would be an idle god until someone w intense feelings of powerlessness and insecurity like awoke them from their techno induced slumber and inhabited dream to help him fulfill his desires for power and control) and by the time he and dream are finished its late at night and sap and george are ??? so u were possessed by a god who techno killed centuries ago in a duel and it amplified ur feelings of insecurity and ur thirst for control to the point of isolating urself from us and destroying everything everyone cared abt?? also technos an ancient god who lusts for bloodshed but also makes turtle farms in his free time?? are we getting this right????? and techno and dream are just yea thats abt it glad this all made sense then they all go to bed (its a small house dream has a lil shack like ranboos and sap and george somehow slept over there for the night) and in the morning sap and george leave again but promise to come back, they still arent ready to forgive and forget bc even tho it wasnt all his fault his emotions getting away from him is what caused this all in the first place so they do need time to process now that they know he isnt dead and dream continues to live near techno in almost full independence and eventually moves back with his friends even tho many still hate him. hes happy and for now thats enough. another foot note; even after xd leaves his being, he still has the extra eyes, glowy freckles n is xtra tall n shit that cant just be reversed but now that hes himself again these things take their tolls on human bodies so i think hed have something at least similar to arthritis bc of how his bones were literally manipulated bc of how strong ethereal magic or whatever is. so he would still wear the broken mask but he takes it off now and is ok with it being off hes working on getting better now that hes himself again and everyone living w/by techno is helping him with that. also i think that he would get blinks of xd's memories like from when techno was killing them and have sumn like ptsd panic attacks from it and techno feels super guilty abt it but theres literally nothing he can do except apologize and after the first few times dream stopped him from apologizing bc it is his fault but he didnt do it to him so it doesnt matter to dream at least and they live in pretty much harmony until dream finally moves back in w george and sap the end. he also started wearing the mask in the first place bc of the extra eyes but he played it off as being uncomfortable around new people and not wanting them to know what he looked like until he trusted them (bc that literally makes sense irl how funky is that) so sap and george never pushed him and when they caught him without it on on the rare occasion they wouldnt pressure him to leave it off or anything even tho they already knew what he looked like (when they respect ur boundaries </3) they just assumed that it was insecurity (it was but also mans had like 3 eyes so) and just left him alone

#dream smp #long post under cut #dream mcyt #technoblade #dream xd #i love dream xd their concept is literally so fucking funny to me #this idea hit me like a train at 11pm and i wrote from 12:04am to 1:02am scribbling this down in dms on discord to my friend whos asleep #fic au idea #i should start a whole tag of that wanna bet how many posts would be there #edit: there are #2064 words and #10582 characters under the cut #what the fuck #is we fuckin doin

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quensty · 4 years

Note

I’m glad you tagged yourself via me!!!! But I have a lot of questions.

Emergency fic for clout

a list of things regarding anthony j crowley

Steve?

Wouldn’t it be knife

Music wiki

omg!! thank you so much for adding that nice part to ur post in the first place!! it was very kind, especially because i love talking abt myself. anyway, AGAIN, this got a bit long.

“emergency fic for clout” i honestly had no idea what this was until i opened it and promptly laughed so hard i had to get a drink of water. i think i wrote this four years ago? it’s an aftg star wars au that i can’t believe i had the audacity to write considering i know jack shit abt star wars.

The air shifts, violent, making the floor beneath Andrew’s feet formless. As it pitches sharply to the right, he grabs hold of the control panel and shoots the Commander straight through his side.

Everything is silent except for the blaring of sirens until Kevin steps into view, face drawn pale and tight, and tells him, “Change of plan: there's someone we need on this ship.”

Nicky splutters from the data console, stilled from maneuvering wildly around looking for the right information to stare at Kevin. “What? Are you kidding me?” Even Aaron, from his place where he’s crouching over the dead bodies and looking for a working blaster, looks up with a sneer curling his lip.

Kevin doesn't look at them. He's staring straight at Andrew, who, under the perfumed fog clouding his mind, is not impressed. Andrew on the surface breaks into a sharp grin. “You heard what the Imp said. He’s alerted all stormtroopers of our location.”

“Not very fun company,” says Aaron. “Considering they want us dead.”

“Agreed,” says Nicky. “FOX almost has all the data downloaded. Two minutes tops.”

Andrew’s grin widens, showing all his teeth. He hasn't turned away from Kevin’s stare once. “You want to live?” It is not a question that needs an answer. “The answer is no.”

“We need a pilot.”

“I'm looking at one.”

“He's the best pilot in the outer worlds,” he insists, and if Andrew was anybody else, he might have been surprised. “We need him.”

“Oh?” Interested. “Who?”

“Nathaniel Wesninski.”

Silence rings out for a heartbeat, all of them stunned into silence. The ship alarm keeps blaring.

Andrew barks out a short laugh. “You mean the criminal,” he surmises.

A pause. “Yes.”

Andrew leans a shoulder against the control panel. Distantly, he can hear footsteps coming down the corridor, orders shouted by generals. Any second now, they’ll start firing at the iron gate Nicky has managed to lock down. How long it’ll hold is up is a roll of a dice.

Andrew says, “He’s more trouble than he’s worth.”

“We can't risk leaving him. If we don’t keep him, the Empire will.”

“Andrew,” Nicky says urgently. At his feet, FOX is beeping desperately, skittish. “We should really get moving.”

Blasters pound against the gate.

“That sounds fun,” he says, then goes, “Nicky, I want Nathaniel Wesninski’s cell number.”

“Andrew,” Nicky repeats, wide-eyed and incredulous, to which Andrew responds with, “Fifty seconds, Nicky, or you can find your own way back to Base.”

He pulls something from under his robes and, with a hiss, flicks on his lightsaber. “If we get captured,” he says, this time to Kevin, pointing the rumbling, static end of the lightsaber in his direction, “you can thank your Imperial renegade.”

pls excuse the shitty writing. the last edit was made in fucking 2018.

i was actually really excited about “a list of things regarding anthony j crowley” when i was writing it bc it really was going to be a fic written in the form of a list. which is much harder than it sounds. i still have this hope that i might finish it one day, but basically, i wanted to tell thee iconic 6k year slow burn thru crowley’s perspective. this is abt as far as i got.

1.) Crowley’s middle name is Jabez.

2.) He doesn’t think there’s anything wrong with that, either. It’s a perfectly good name, one he thinks anyone like them—of which there are few, perhaps none—should like. Anyway, it’s much better than the name Aziraphale thought up. For all his intelligence and rebelliousness, he still lacks imagination.

3.) This is what Crowley tells Aziraphale, anyway. The truth is that Crowley got piss drunk one week and changed his legal name to—well, it doesn’t really matter what.

4.) In spite of the story Aziraphale likes to tell—which, depending on how much Aziraphale has had to drink, have begun in the Garden, a gentlemen’s club, the bookshop’s grand opening, Golgotha, and Paris—Crowley met Aziraphale in Heaven.

5.) More accurately, Crowley had been slouched over the railing of one of heaven’s thousands of identical balconies and was only half-listening as a Seraphim beside him went on a tirade about the location of the newest temple. Crowley, bored out of his mind, mostly stared off into the middle distance wishing he was anywhere else.

6.) He still vividly remembers Heaven. All the calculating tones, the monotonous psalms, the never-ending polished marble. Despite the light, Heaven always felt cold.

7.) He spotted Aziraphale by complete accident. He hardly paid attention to the steady stream of angels making their way to and fro anymore, and he can’t say why Aziraphale caught his eye when not much did, in those days. Anyway, Aziraphale was so completely unremarkable in every way. He held his wings back the same way everyone else did, his halo perfectly balanced over his head; even his smile was familiar. He was, in all possible ways, a carbon copy of all the rest, but he wore his skin like an ill-fitting glove, as if he’d never quite mastered how to make it his own. Crowley was hooked on it.

8.) Crowley was so busy staring he didn’t notice the Seraphim gradually leaning into his space, awaiting a response to a question he hadn’t heard. She bristled when she noticed his wandering attention, so he took a stab in the dark and said yes, that was rather interesting. He watched Aziraphale walk uncomfortably between other angels and thought, Very, very interesting.

quick tangent, this was a real comment i had next to the third point

i already answered the “steve?” question, which u can find on this post!! it’s the first two excerpts of writing.

“wouldn’t it be knife” is blank salkfjasfj. i’m so sorry!! i think it was meant to be an abigail hobbs fic, but i haven’t actually figured out how i want it to go. in other news, i’m going into witness protection.

“music wiki” was actually meant to be a gift for my friend like ... five years ago. it’s a viktuuri musician au that i haven’t made any progress in bc ik nothing abt music. unfortunately, the writing is very bad and i can’t, in good conscience, force u to read it, but just know that all i have to show for half a decade of work is 359 words. truly awe-inspiring what i can accomplish when i put my mind to it.

#thanks again! this was so much fun!!#quen writes

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consumedkings-archive · 4 years

Text

ancient names, pt. xv

A John Seed/Original Female Character Fanfic

Ancient Names, pt xv: down the rabbit hole

Masterlink Post

Word Count: ~10.6k ( i think? sorry? )

Rating: M for mature. You know; Far Cry 5.

Warnings: canon typical violence, some forced drug use (Bliss) that results in some PEAK emotional manipulation, a friendly reminder that this is not a love story about people in a healthy relationship but just a love story, sort of. Also I love tropes and no one can stop me.

Notes: HM not much to say about this chapter except that I had a ball writing it and I hope that comes through when you're reading it as well!! It's a joy to finally move some plot pieces a long and also explore some different narratives--especially Faith's, who I had been nervous about writing but made myself do it anyway.

I really hope you enjoy it! @starcrier blessed me with her input (per usual; she's an angel, what can I say) and of course I want to thank @lilwritingraven for helping me with the pacing of this chapter, as well as @baeogorath for letting me send them memes at like 3am and talk abt how Cora and Elliot are going to end up in a domestic partnership with many dog children.

She’s in a bar.

She’s in a bar, and she’s twenty-two, and Joey is off to go get a drink and she doesn’t think she likes the one she has very much.

She’s in a bar, and she’s twenty-two, and John Seed locks eyes with her from across the bar and it feels like her entire body is getting eaten up by flame. She’s never had a man look at her like he looks at her—starved, like he could never get his fill of her, prowling through the crowd of bodies milling about in the bar to beeline straight for her.

Wanted. He wants her—and it twists in her stomach, writhing, white-hot and intoxicating and the second he closes in he says, “I’ve been looking for you.”

“I know,” she says, feeling his hands on either side of her neck, cradling. Her lashes flutter and the oxygen is so thin, like they’re somewhere very high, but they aren’t; they’re just there , together, the wildfire of him greedily devouring the kindling of her bones.

This is the part where Joey is supposed to come in. A part of her knows this: that any minute now, she will get pulled away, that even as John leans down to kiss her, the dream will evaporate and she will be left remembering that moment that she missed so many years ago.

But the dream doesn’t end. John’s lips brush hers; his fingers wind through her hair; John, she says, because nothing in her is not for him, just the kind of girl that he likes—the kind that’s hurting, and that hurts others.

“Just like me,” John says against her mouth. He disentangles his hands from her hair and reaches for her own, bringing them for her to see.

They are drenched in blood. Sticky, wet, crimson. A small, tiny part of her brain says, we can’t know for sure whose, but she knows.

Joey.

“See?” John says, his fingers biting into her palms, his teeth catching her lip. “Just like me.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Elliot’s eyes fluttered open. At first, she felt her body brace for some kind of impact—she had woken up in an unfamiliar bed, with unfamiliar sounds of voices outside, and someone’s breath fanning her neck. She shifted, forcing her eyes open despite the strange panic crawling up her throat, and peeked over her shoulder.

It was John. She thought, Oh. And then: Hm.

Not the kind of dread she had been anticipating. It was different than fearing a monster; it was the kind of dread that came with being known down in the most vulnerable parts of you, the kind that she’d felt after she’d stood up from laying everything out in front of Joseph. She’d felt sick, then, and slimy; every detail of every memory about that night years ago before moving back to Hope County had made her skin burn .

And then there had been John. Hands gripping, mouth hungry, but it was always: Anything you want, El. He’d done everything exactly the way she’d wanted it. John wasn’t the first man she had been with since her time in the city, but he was the first to—well, mean something, and wasn’t that a dreadful thought?

Pressing her face back to the pillow, the unfamiliar weight of his arm around her tightened when she shifted away.

“Stop squirming,” John rumbled. “I’m trying to sleep.”

“This is a twin bed, fucker,” Elliot replied, ignoring the unease that was beginning to knot in her stomach. She didn’t know why it was there, inside of her, until she realized she was—happy? “It wasn’t meant to hold both of us.” And then, bitterly: “ Fuck, you’re hot.”

She kicked her leg out from under the sheets, exhaling sharply as the complaint left her mouth. It was too late to choose better wording; she could feel John’s self-pleased aura radiating off of him almost instantly as he buried his face into her neck.

“I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,” he said, as his fingers skimmed beneath the sheet to trace the lines of her scars. She knew that it infuriated him that she hadn’t told him what they were from—but at least like this, he wasn’t interrogating her, contenting himself with feeling them rather than knowing them. She squirmed and grimaced.

“I mean like a space heater,” she grumbled. Tucking her arm up under the pillow, she added, “I don’t remember saying you could sleep here.”

John grinned against the back of her neck. “Are you kicking me out?”

A long, tired sigh slipped out of her, muffled by the pillow. Every part of her ached in a pleasant way, and John’s warmth pressed up behind her as they lay crammed on the bed in the bunkhouse was a grounding one; the kind that might let her sleep a little more. The darkness in the room meant that she hadn’t dozed off for very long, and even now her eyes felt heavy.

She knew that she’d barely gotten the amount of sleep that she needed since Joey’s death, let alone wanted . Every time she closed her eyes, all she could see was the gore and grit of it; it sat just behind her eyelids, waiting for her to try and get some rest and move forward to assault her with the memory of Joey’s gruesome murder.

The broken jaw, the gutted chest cavity. The flowers, packed so tight and full she could have rested her cheek on it and been held like a pillow.

And John’s arms, circling her: Don’t look, El.

“You can stay,” Elliot said after a moment, keeping her eyes fixed on the wall. “This one time.”

“You’re in an agreeable mood.” John paused, nosing past the hair gathering in the crook of her neck. “You want to tell me how your confession went now? Must’ve been pretty good, considering what you let me—”

She groaned. “I changed my mind. Get out.”

“You don’t have to talk about it, I just—”

“You are so fucking annoying,” she said, rolling over in the bed to look at him. With that grin slapped on his face and his hair tousled out of its normally meticulous slick-back, he looked boyish and young, not like a cultist maniac; it was probably the most frustrating thing about him, that he could look this way. That he could have moments of sincerity, but that he never seemed to fall into the realm of “good”, because every time she felt herself relaxing around him he did something to remind her why it was a bad idea . “I’m not going to talk to you about my confession.”

“Well,” John said petulantly, “why not ?”

Her fingers traced the Sloth scar just under his collarbone. He had a myriad of them—tattoos, too—and while she hadn’t quite gotten them all memorized, it was nice to let the buzzing of her brain focus on parsing them out instead of everything else.

The problem was that Elliot didn’t know how to tell him the truth of it; that she had only told Joseph those things about who she had been and who she was now because she knew that he wanted her to, just like she knew John wanted her to let him kiss her, and just like she knew Jacob wanted her to give him a reason to push her to her limits and really test her. She couldn’t tell John that, because even though it was true , it also didn’t change the fact that he complicated things for her more than she should have let him—like everything, John was an outlying variable which Elliot had no way to brace for.

“It’s not good pillow talk,” she said after a minute, skimming her fingers along the jut of his collarbone. “And I don’t want to talk about it, and that should be enough.” And then, decisively, when John opened his mouth, she said, “It is enough.”

John closed his mouth pointedly, and then said, “You certainly know how to ruin a good time.”

“Goodnight, John.”

She rolled back onto her other side and waited for the departure of his warmth. It didn’t go anywhere—instead, John buckled down, keeping his arm wrapped snug around her abdomen as his mouth traced the slope of her shoulder.

“You’ll tell me,” he said after a moment, his voice a pleasant rumble, “eventually.”

We’ll fucking see about that, she thought, closing her eyes with a muted sigh.

“ Goodnight, John.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“You’re late.”

Jacob sounded fully unimpressed, arms crossed over his chest as John stepped into the chapel. It was to be expected, he supposed; after all, they were supposed to have been convening about ten minutes ago, but sleeping in the bunkhouse meant his alarm hadn’t gone off, and—

And, even if it had, he wasn’t sure that he’d have rushed out of bed anyway.

“Sorry,” John said, not feeling nor sounding very sorry at all, he was sure. Joseph was seated patiently by the table, the radio set to the side as it casually flicked through channels on a timer, meant to scan and make sure they weren’t missing out on any chatter. He glanced at John as he came in, his eyes inquisitive, but remained silent.

And then Jacob announced, “Your shirt’s all fucked up.”

“Didn’t have time to change,” John replied. He wanted to say it—he really did—but he mostly wanted Jacob to ask. “I came right over as soon as I woke up. What do we have on the Family?”

“Hey? John?” Jacob leaned down against the table, palms flat on the surface, fixing him with those steely eyes. “What the fuck?”

Faith stifled a laugh, her eyes glimmering wide and doe-like on her face. “You aren’t going to tell us what happened to your shirt?” she asked.

“I feel like this is detracting from the purpose of the meeting,” John answered, trying his very best to feign innocence and focus in the face of the attention, which—after all of Jacob’s moaning and groaning about his incompetency with the deputy, he was enjoying immensely.

Jacob pushed the collar of John’s bedraggled shirt aside with one brisk movement. “Are those nail marks?”

“Oh, John,” Faith sighed.

“Well, I don’t want to brag,” he said, brushing Jacob’s hand off of him, “and I won’t, because there’s no reason to. I’m just doing my—you know, my job.”

“So,” Joseph said, finally, “the deputy is...?”

His older brother arched a brow loftily at him, watching him from across the table. He didn’t seem to be enjoying John’s little show quite as much as his other siblings—in fact, Jacob seemed the most pleased, that wicked grin splitting across his face as soon as John said, “I think you could consider her converted. ”

“Little John finally got around to it, huh?” the red-head said, sounding quite amused.

Joseph waited. “Is that so?”

“She confessed to you,” John explained, “and then—well.” He glanced at Faith for a moment. “ Confessed to me. And actually, you know, Joseph, I was thinking about that little problem we were discussing a few days ago.”

He leaned in against the table, pleased to have their rapt attention—most of all, Joseph’s; his brother’s gaze was fixed on him expectantly, waiting patiently for the elaboration that he hoped was coming.

“Problem?” Jacob prompted. “You mean Burke?”

“I mean the whole thing,” John replied. “Burke, whether he got out or not, what’s going to happen once we get rid of the Family if someone tries to come down on us. Joseph’s right when he says there’s ways to make people not talk. Who knows if the Resistance members got out? And even if they did, who’s to say they won’t leave this place behind them forever and never look back?”

Jacob crossed his arms over his chest. “Okay?”

“Okay, so ,” he continued, and then paused and said, “bear with me—”

“John.”

“What if—Elliot and I got married?” he finished. All three sets of eyes blinked at him for a moment, and then he said, “ If this goes to court, and if we have witnesses pulled up against us, Elliot can opt out of testifying against me if she’s married to me. Only a complete moron would put her up on the stand after hearing that she’s a Seed, and—”

“Stupid,” Jacob interrupted. “Bad plan. If she does get put up on the stand against one of us , what is she going to say, John?”

“She likes Joseph,” he ventured. “Sort of. Right? The confession went well, you said.”

“And me,” Faith offered. “I’m probably her favorite.”

“That’s very true,” Joseph conceded.

John plunged on, “She has a good reputation. She grew up here, went to school here, knows all of the locals, worked on law enforcement—”

“And she’s fucking nuts,” Jacob deadpanned. “They’re going to take one look at her body count and put her in a psych ward. I don’t care if you want to have a bride, John, but don’t pretend that it’s for us and not for you. We all know the second you put your eyes on her—”

“Well, it was really fucking stupid of us to let Burke get out!” John snapped. “It doesn’t look good , you know? The prospects? Not to be a big bummer, but I’m trying to make a win out of a losing hand!”

Joseph lifted his hand to signal that an end to the discourse had come. He settled back against his chair for a moment, pensive, eyes fixed on the Eden’s Gate symbol carved into the front of the chapel; it felt a little like agony to sit and wait for him to break the silence, and John could sense the unease prickling in his stomach.

“The deputy has confided in me the extent of her past,” he began at last, “which matches up with everything we dug up on her before, when she came back.” He sighed thoughtfully. “She was truthful, and willing, and so vulnerable. It really was remarkable—and with all that time she spent fighting us. You should have seen her, John.”

I know, John thought when the spiteful venom shot straight through him, taking away some of the victory that had rooted itself there in his chest. I know, I know, that should have been fucking mine.

“She confessed to me, and then…” His eyes landed on John. Delicately, he continued, “... willingly indulged you.”

“I’ll say,” Jacob muttered.

“It seems that our deputy is turning a new leaf, after all.” Joseph’s gaze flickered absently down to the table, and he asked, “So. She’s agreed to it? This idea of yours?”

No, John thought, with no absence of affection and frustration in equal amounts. If he was being honest, he thought that she wouldn’t have agreed to it even if every bad thing they had ever done to her was erased; that was just the kind of woman that Elliot was. All the more reason to want her. All the more reason to make the taming sweeter.

And if tying Elliot to him legally, by name, didn’t get them out of this mess, it would at least ensure that she stayed in it.

With him.

After a moment, he ventured, “It could require a little extra persuasion.”

“Hol-ee shit,” Jacob said. “You came with a half-baked idea that you haven’t even gotten confirmation on? John? John?”

Feeling another bout of bickering come on, Faith let out a little exhale of breath and came to a stand, smoothing her hands along the skirt of her dress. Both Jacob and John stopped their oncoming fight to look at her—almost as effective at garnering attention as Joseph, his little snake.

“I’ll talk to her,” Faith said. “It shouldn’t come from you. You’ll just piss her off.”

John narrowed his eyes. “It takes a rapport, Faith, and you’ve barely spent any time with her.”

“It’s not about the amount of time, it’s about the quality of the time,” she snipped. “Fifteen minutes with her and she was willingly offering up information about her childhood to me.”

“Okay,” John replied tartly, “and?”

“When I was kidnapped by the Family, they kept referring to their— substance as ‘opening them to the influence’,” the blonde said primly. “And when I heard that, I thought, what a good idea! It’s easy to overwhelm the body with Bliss, you know. Send someone on a nice trip. But if you just give them a little bit at a time? Over a longer time? Sort of like what Jacob does.”

“We’re not letting Jacob do his brainwashing on her,” he bit out.

“No, John , we’re not,” Faith sighed. “I just mean—give her enough where she doesn’t realize what’s happening. It just makes her…” She searched for a moment, and then smiled brightly. “Soft.”

Oh, he thought, I do like it when she’s soft.

“I think that’s a wonderful idea,” Joseph said, before he gathered up the threads of his thoughts from images of Elliot soft , burying her face into his neck and sighing prettily. “And if she’s more open to your influence because of it, John, then what’s to lose anyway?”

“Well, since we’re all settled on this fucking insane idea,” Jacob said, spreading the map back out on the table, “Faith will take care of that while I educate everyone on what’s going on with our Family, yeah?”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

When she woke up, John was gone, and with him the satisfying warmth that had lulled her back to sleep. In his absence, Boomer had curled up on the floor next to her bed; John must have let him in on his way out.

“Hey, buddy,” Elliot murmured, reaching down and ruffling his dark fur affectionately. He made a low, whining groan, blinking big brown eyes up at her. “You’re ready to be done, huh?”

Boomer rolled onto his back, stretching his legs luxuriously as she patted his stomach. She was pleased to find that John had left almost no trace of himself—no articles of clothing, no sticky note left on the bedside table. It was as if he hadn’t ever been there.

Well, almost, anyway. She slid out of bed and grabbed some clean clothes from her bag, making her way to the bathroom to start the shower. When she caught sight of herself in the mirror, she almost started; there were marks blooming on her neck, her collarbone, her hips. Her lips were kiss-reddened, her hair disheveled. She thought for a second that she’d never looked more like a stranger and also felt like herself in a very long time—though perhaps that had to do with having a clear path out of Hope County. As close to clear as she could get.

About ten minutes into the shower and she heard the door to the bunkhouse open; Boomer barked once, and Elliot stuck her head out of the shower to say, “John, I really only just got into the shower—”

“It’s me.” It was Faith’s voice. Softer, sweeter, more welcome even all things considered. Elliot hadn’t forgotten the way that Faith had stuck around to try and comfort her, even if she knew she’d been told to do it, and even if she knew that Faith had to have been doing it for something. The only person who had ever done that because they cared for her was dead, now.

“Oh.” Elliot paused, clearing her throat. “Um—I’m sorry, I thought—” Fuck fuck fuck.

“I can wait,” Faith continued, closer to the bathroom door now. “I was just going to see if you would go on a walk with me. We’re not allowed to leave the compound alone anymore.”

Faith’s voice sounded small, filled with a kind of longing that Elliot recognized in places of herself, too—the kind of longing that she’d felt before she’d met Joey: to be around someone, anyone . She swallowed thickly.

This wasn’t on her agenda for the day. She was supposed to be grabbing a map, trying to get to the radio without getting seen, figuring out where they kept all of their guns. She’d gathered what ammo and weapons she could at Fall’s End, but it had been slim pickings.

“I’ll hurry,” Elliot said after a moment, and she meant it. She sprinted through the rest of her shower; somehow, the idea of keeping Faith waiting was more tragic than leaving any of the other Seeds waiting, and maybe it was because Faith wasn’t even a real Seed at all and somewhere along the way had gotten snared in their trap.

She had to be safe. She had to be careful. And that meant not trusting a Seed—even an honorary one. Especially an honorary one.

Once she had dressed, she stepped out into the main room of the bunkhouse to find Faith waiting patiently. Unlike John, she didn’t regard Boomer with a look of wary disdain (though it had been a while since he’d done that), but rather with a little smile planted on her face; the Heeler’s hair was up, and he made a low warning noise that rumbled right out of his chest, but he laid flat on the floor and looked instantly to Elliot for a cue on whether their new guest was dangerous or not. She waved her hand at him.

“Sorry about that,” Elliot said before she could stop herself—there was no reason for her to apologize for Boomer being wary of her, considering all of the variables, but Faith’s sweet face gazing wide-eyed and trusting at her was enough to dig right in the grit of her in a way that John or Joseph couldn’t have ever.

“It’s okay,” Faith replied amusedly. “I know John locked him up in a cage.”

“Yeah,” she said dryly, shifting on her feet. She was glad she’d packed mostly sweaters, a few high-necked, to help conceal the remaining bruising. With a gesture for Faith to head out of the bunkhouse, Elliot followed her out into the late morning—but not before she grabbed a handgun out from under the bed, flicked the safety on, and tucked it under her sweater and into the back of her jeans.

Outside, the sun had receded behind a thin veil of gray clouds, and in the distance thicker ones started to roll in. Angry, boisterous kinds of clouds. She hoped it was going to storm again; she loved an Autumn storm, but she had the feeling that it would only be a nuisance in the end.

“I can’t believe how gloomy it is,” Faith murmured, pouting. Without any ceremony, she took Elliot’s hand in hers, interlacing their fingers like they had been friends forever; a sweet perfume scent wafted off of her, and it smelled familiar , but Elliot couldn’t figure out what it was. Boomer sprinted on ahead of them, doubling back every once in a while as he got his stretch in, and the girl continued, “Jacob says it might even snow. ”

Elliot grimaced at the mention of Jacob but trailed obediently next to Faith. It was so much harder to maintain the anger, even knowing that she had been just as complicit. Faith was just so—

“It’s snowed as early as August here, once,” she offered, dragging her mind away from what it was that bothered her the most: that Joseph, Jacob, and John were all somewhere, convening, likely about her. Likely about things that she needed to know. “What are your brothers doing?”

“Talking about boring stuff,” Faith replied with a little laugh as they walked out from the gate of the compound. And then, with a sly little look on her face, she said, “Talking about you, too.”

A little lurch caught in her stomach. “What about?” she asked faintly, and Faith shrugged.

“John’s upset he doesn’t know what you talked to Joseph about.” As they broke away from the dirt path and went instead closer to the forest, Boomer ducking and darting as he chased a mouse, Faith gave Elliot’s hand a little squeeze. “He really likes you, deputy.”

“You can call me Elliot,” she clarified. The title felt wrong, now that Joey was gone. Now that Whitehorse was nowhere to be seen. She wasn’t really even a deputy anymore. “And did he tell you that? He’s got a funny way of saying things.”

“I can just tell. John’s my brother, and he’s bad at hiding his feelings.”

Elliot smothered a laugh before it could come out of her. “I suppose he is.”

They walked like that for a few moments; Faith, remarking often about something that caught her eye, Elliot offering whatever information she could about the flora and fauna, and on one occasion Boomer sat still enough to let Faith brush her fingers over his ears. It was a strange, suspended sort of moment in time, Elliot thought. Like they had entered a bubble entirely their own, perfumed by Faith’s floral-sweet perfume, the freedom of walking outside of the compound, and the gentleness that Faith carried with her.

She was so remarkably unlike any of her siblings that it was almost possible to forget she had ever been one at all. That at one point, she had held Joey captive at John’s behest, in a way to wrench on the softest parts of her.

“I’m very sorry,” she murmured after a moment, garnering Elliot’s attention. “About Miss Hudson. You know, they kept us together. The Family. She was…”

Oh, Elliot thought, as the faint wash of grief slipped up in her, trying to climb up her walls. Oh, please don’t say something lovely. I just can’t stand it.

“So kind,” Faith murmured at last, “to me. Even after everything. When I was crying, and scared, and thought no one was going to come for me, she held me. She always said that you were going to come, no matter what.”

The words rinsed her with a different kind of sorrow, then. Not even really for herself, anymore, but that Faith had known Joey’s kindness, and now she would be without it.

“I’ve always wanted a sister,” Faith continued after a moment, stopping their walk as they had looped back around and now the chapel was coming within sight. A swoon rattled around in her head again as a waft of Faith's perfume smothered her. “You know? Brothers are nice, but—”

Elliot felt a pleasant, dreamy buzzing in her head, and she thought it might have been from the words because— because, and that was all her brain could think to supply as the thoughts flickered around in her head. Because Faith wrapped her arms around Elliot’s midsection and hugged her, head tucked just under her chin, because the young woman felt so tiny and small and frail in her arms, because there was nothing about what she said that came with the same boxed, off-brand sincerity that the rest of her brothers used.

“I’m so happy you came, Elliot,” she murmured, her voice floating up to her muffled by the fabric of her sweater. She was holding so tight that Elliot could feel the rabbit-like fluttering of her own heartbeat in comparison to the slow, luxurious tempo of Faith’s. “I’ve felt really alone out here.”

When she tried to lift her arms, cautiously, it felt like she was moving under water; she rested her hands on the blonde’s shoulders. “Faith,” she started, “if you—if you’re—unhappy—”

I can get you out too, she thought, a little desperately. I can get you out. I couldn’t do it for Joey, but for you, I could.

“What do you mean?” The young woman smiled up at her, and their noses brushed, and that scent washed over her again. What was it from? She couldn’t quite muddle through her brain to catch it and pin it down. “I’m so happy. Now that you’re here.”

“M-Me too,” Elliot managed out. She thought, vaguely, that something must be wrong; before she could trouble herself with it anymore, Faith reached up and kissed her cheek, and then the corner of her mouth, chastely. A burst of floral raced through her mouth, humming between her molars.

“Are you?” Faith asked her as the world wobbled a bit around her. “Happy, Elliot?”

Was she? When she reached around inside of her, dug around deep, she had anticipated to find that sharp little jumble of glass inside of her, all of the anger and the hurt that had been wadded up and sat right locked away in her jaw: but it was nowhere to be found, then. In that moment, all she felt was a gorgeous swoon of delight race straight through her at the idea that she could still be happy.

“Yeah,” she said after a moment, feeling a little smile tugging at her lips. “I am.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“So,” John said casually, “are you going to tell me what Elliot said to you?”

“Oh, fucking Christ,” Jacob muttered.

“John, you know that I can’t.” Joseph’s voice was mild, and patient, as he gathered his things from the table and came to a stand. “She confessed to me in absolute confidence. I could never violate that.”

“It’s important,” John replied, shooting Jacob a look when he scoffed, “to make sure that I have as much information as I can.”

As they walked toward the chapel’s doors that led out into the main yard, Joseph rested a hand on his shoulder and squeezed, rooting him to his spot for a moment. It was just a tiny gesture, but that alone was enough to make John hesitate, glancing over at his older brother.

“Everything that you need to know about our deputy,” Joseph said, “you do. The only advice I can offer you is that she’s already told you what she wants, more than anything.”

“Don’t,” John sighed, “ please don’t be cryptic with me. I don’t know—”

“You do,” his brother cautioned. “You do know, John. She’s just a woman, you know. She wants what anyone wants.” He gestured for him to move forward, and he did, albeit reluctantly, and Joseph opened the door to the outside. “A place to belong. A person to belong to, or a person to belong to them.” He paused. “A home.”

“John!”

As he stepped out of the chapel, Faith’s voice dragged his gaze to the small little space between the chapel and the building next to it. His sister waved at him with one hand while the other clasped Elliot’s tugging her along.

“We wondered how long you guys were going to be,” she said, beaming at him as they neared, Jacob and Joseph trailing after him out of the chapel. Joseph got as far as the doorway, leaning against it comfortably. Elliot’s face was flushed prettily, and yes, he could see it—the ever-so-gentle dilation of her pupils, a strange dragging smoothness to her movements, like each lift of her arm or flicker of her eyes was being done in a syrupy pool of molasses.

“It wasn’t too long, was it?” he prompted amusedly. “Only an hour and a half, I think.”

“Boring,” Faith insisted. “Elliot and I had so much fun. She knows so much about the plants around here, did you know?”

The sentence almost made John laugh. Faith knew just about as much as anyone could be around the plants in the area; he knew that she was capable of this kind of sweet manipulation, but to see it in action, to see the way that Elliot’s nose crinkled at the compliment, was different.

“Not,” Elliot managed out modestly, “that much.”

Joseph said something to beckon Faith; John couldn’t hear it, or if he did, the sound didn’t filter into his mental archives, because Elliot was gazing at him with something other than venom, and when their eyes met she waited a heartbeat too long to look away.

“I think I’m— gonna go lay down,” she said after a moment. “Thanks for talking with me, Faith.”

“I told you,” Faith replied sweetly from the doorway of the chapel, “I’m so happy you’re here.” And she swiped her thumb along her lower lip, like the dredges of a sweet-drink she didn’t want to forget, and John felt like he’d missed something important.

As Jacob brushed past him with one last meaningful look over his shoulder, John cleared his throat and asked, “Are you feeling alright?” just as Elliot caught herself from swaying on her feet.

“Me?” she repeated, and as she took a step forward it seemed to hit her really hard then, her hand flying out to stabilize herself with his shoulder. “I’m good. I’m pretty good, you know?”

“I don’t,” John replied. He reached up, brushing the hair from her face, and for a moment her eyes fluttered and she sighed. “Tell me.”

“Got food.”

“Mhm.”

“Got sleep.”

“Right.” John nudged her forward, walking her towards the bunkhouse.

“Got—” She paused, almost like she felt suddenly shy, opening the door and stepping inside. She looked at him over her shoulder, a little smile tugging at her lips. “ You. Don’t I, John?”

He thought very suddenly that he had been a fool to doubt Faith’s capabilities. A fool, certainly, and an even greater one to not have taken advantage of this sooner. Of course dunking her in a river bleeding Bliss had made her feel like shit. It was meant to disorient her. But this Elliot? Gently, sweetly catered into a bliss-buzzed reality?

“Yes,” he replied as her arms slipped around his neck. “You do.”

“Smell good.” Elliot nuzzled her face into his neck. She smelled like Bliss extract—like she’d taken a bath in it—and when she leaned up and kissed him leisurely, unhurriedly, she tasted like it too. It vibrated in his mouth, sharp and glittering and racing straight down his spine. “You left too many marks on me. It’s hard to cover up.”

“I’m sorry,” John said, even though he wasn’t sorry at all.

“You’re not.” She grinned against his mouth. “But you will be.”

The words sent an excited little thrill through him, anticipation prickling along the back of his neck. But he needed to stay focused; he needed to remember why Faith had done this for them in the first place. Not to get Elliot relaxed enough to actually enjoy herself, but to secure at least one aspect of their future that they could get their hands on.

He said, half-cocked grin on his face, “Is that so?” while Elliot nudged him to one of the chairs settled snug and comfortable in the corner of the bunkhouse. The table had been littered with her own belongings that she’d fetched from Fall’s End — her bag of clothes and things from the house, the two crates worth of supplies she’d hauled from the Spread Eagle. As soon as he was sitting in the chair obediently, she settled in his lap.

“Hey, El,” John said against her mouth, “what if we did something?”

“Kissing is something,” Elliot replied pleasantly.

“I mean,” he tried again, skimming his hands up underneath her sweater and down her back, “what if—we got—what the fuck is this?”

His hands hit lukewarm metal. He gripped it tentatively, feeling familiar ridges and lines, and pulled it out from where it had been tucked beneath the top lip of her jeans.

It was a gun.

In hindsight, John realized that it would have been stupid to think that she hadn’t grabbed weapons while they were in Fall’s End—she obviously didn’t think they’d give her any, and she was probably more right about it—but the absurdity of actually catching her with one on her was almost too much, in juxtaposition to the innocent way she was regarding him.

“A gun,” she said.

“I can see that,” John replied amusedly, making sure the safety was switched on before he set the gun on the table. “Care to elaborate?”

Elliot shrugged. The black of her pupils slowly ate away at the blue of her irises, until he thought that there could only be a sliver of them left now. “Not really.” And then she kissed him again, instantly pulling his mind away from the task at hand as well as the careful procurement of her firearm.

“You wanted to be—armed, walking around with my sister?” John rumbled against her mouth.

“Not getting caught unarmed,” Elliot replied. “Not again.” And she threaded her fingers through his hair and kissed him, sighing into the liplock prettily and reminding him, again, why he was actually here.

John waited until he could feel the flutter of her pulse under his fingers before he said, “What if we got married?”

Elliot laughed. “Don’t be stupid,” she murmured, while his fingers traced the bruise he’d left the night before.

“I’m not.” He kissed her again, distracting her for a moment. “What if we did?”

The blonde stilled and pulled back, regarding him with a gaze that was both unimpressed and confused. She didn’t say anything, and he didn’t say anything, and she pressed her lips into a thin line.

“Why?” she asked suspiciously. But John had been prepared for this question, because he knew it would come inevitably, and he leaned forward and tugged her down to kiss her again; her movements were more tentative now, as though she were trying to brace herself against him.

“I don’t want,” John said against her kiss, “you to be alone anymore.”

“Um,” said Elliot, sounding faint.

“And when this is all done with,” he continued quickly, “all of this stuff with—with the cult, you and I can get out of here.”

She stared at him. He could almost hear the sluggish churning of her mental gears, grinding and lurching against each other. In the time that he’d known Elliot, he’d come to understand that there were two things that she cared about: getting her friend, and getting out. And it was easy to promise both; by the time they got to the end of the line, it was time to make a decision about staying or leaving, Elliot would be so won over by him that she’d choose to stay.

What does anyone want?

“But what about…” She swallowed thickly and gestured with her hand. “What about—like—all the others—”

A person to belong to them.

“I want to be with you,” John said, low and easy. “I want to be yours, El.”

Her lashes fluttered uneasily. “John—”

“I want a home.” He studied her face. “With you.”

Come on, he thought as she worked the words through her Bliss-muddled brain. Come on, hellcat, come on, I know you want to.

“If you—I bet if you agree to testify,” she started, “then Burke could—”

“Cutting a deal only works if you can choose not to testify against me,” John told her. “You know that, El.”

She didn’t; she was only a small town deputy, but it didn’t matter. She nodded like she did. She was a small town deputy with nothing and no-one left, and now he was offering her what he thought she wanted the most: something. Someone.

“You said there was a John that you wanted,” he continued. He kissed her, his hand cradling the back of her head, and he felt her fingers fist the front of his shirt like she was afraid of disappearing. “I’m here.”

Voice barely above a whisper, she said, “Okay.”

John nosed past her hair, kissing the slope of her jawbone. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Elliot repeated. “I’m—yeah, I want—I want you to be… If you’ll go, when this is done—if you’ll cut a deal with Burke, and—”

A moment passed where she couldn’t seem to bring herself to say exactly what she meant. So he waited, and let her muddle through it, mouth twisting for a moment. A person to belong to, Joseph had said; he felt the absent fluttering of her pulse under his mouth. A person to belong to them.

“Then I want you,” she managed hazily, “to be mine.”

Mine. The word echoed pleasantly, over and over again, in his own voice. Mine. All mine.

“Of course,” John murmured against her skin, “all yours.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Evening came, and with it, a plethora of new problems: chief among them, sober Elliot.

That is to say, though John had hurried from the bunkhouse and fetched the marriage certificate Joseph had figured up for him, and though he had made it back in time for Elliot to dimly sign it, she was nearly asleep. Which left the question up in the air as to whether or not Elliot would even remember their conversation, or if it would feel like a strange dream to her, and if it did, what was he going to do? Tell her?

By the time she’d slept off her happy little trip, John had filed the certificate away for safe-keeping, and she'd come barging into the chapel.

“Hey,” he greeted her, noting the sharpness of her eyes, the way she cocked her head and rolled her shoulders. “Get some sleep?”

“Yeah,” Elliot replied, her voice coming out a little hoarse from the sleep. “What happened? I was so tired, I can barely remember leaving Faith.”

Jacob looked at John pointedly, his brain rapidly scrambling for a foothold. Now, in the face of Elliot-not-under-the-influence, he had the distinct feeling that his assumption she would not be pleased at the idea of being a Seed felt truer than ever.

He should tell her. He should. He should tell her what they’d agreed to, that she’d signed a marriage certificate to be “witnessed” by Joseph and Jacob and Faith, that she’d said she wanted him to be hers. If he trusted her, he would.

“Nothing,” John said lightly. “You came back from your walk with Faith, said you were tired and wanted to go lay down. You look pretty flushed, though.” He feigned concern, reaching up to touch her forehead. “Are you running a fever again?”

Elliot jerked back, startled by the gesture, as though the display of affection in front of Jacob was a shock to her. Trying to look as though she hadn’t just acted like a cornered animal, she said, “I’m—no, I feel fine otherwise.”

“Okay,” he replied. “Well—”

“Faith said you guys were having a meeting earlier,” the blonde continued. “About what to do with the Family. I need to be in on those meetings.”

Jacob scoffed. “I don’t think so.”

“ I’m going to kill Kian,” she asserted firmly. “So I need to know what he’s up to.”

The two of them exchanged a glance for a moment. John said, “Elliot, are you sure you don’t—”

“Positive.”

“Well, sit down,” Jacob snapped. “Not gonna wait all fucking day for you.”

Relief immediately crossed her face. It was so potent in that moment that she didn’t even seem to have the heart to bite out a retort—Jacob’s venom meant nothing to her, not if she was getting what she wanted. Elliot sat herself down at the table and leaned over the map, stifling a yawn.

Jacob covered all of the information that he already had with John and Joseph in their own, which was just fine; John didn’t need to hear about how they’d dug up Ase Carnell, daughter of a Swedish hedge fund king who’d inherited her daddy’s billions upon his departure from his mortal coil. He didn’t need to hear about that, because instead , he could think about the way Elliot had said, I want you to be mine. How sweet she would be when she’d settled into being his wife, too; how delicious she would sound saying, come here, husband.

He was halfway through a daydream when Elliot broke him out of his thoughts. “Did we find out anything about them?” she asked.

“ We ,” Jacob said, pointing at himself alone, “found out that they’re no longer holed up at the camp, but they’re on the move. Like they’re heading out of town. Somehow, these people are well-funded, well-equipped, and they have nothing but time on their hands.”

“Ase told us that the end of the world was coming,” John clarified, “and that it was their job to help usher it in.”

“Well.” Jacob grimaced. “We can’t let them get out. We should choke them here on their way out of Hope County.”

“Do you think Kian’s there still?” Elliot asked. “After what he did to Joey, I—I have to think he’s really pissed off.”

“There weren’t any stragglers,” Jacob replied, “the camp was completely empty, and we haven’t seen anyone out on their own.”

“Then I’ll go cut them off.”

Jacob barked out a laugh, and when Elliot regarded him with an even, unflinching gaze, he crossed his arms over his chest. “You’re fucking joking.”

“I have guns,” Elliot insisted. “I can drive in a firefight better than any of you fuckheads. Just ask John.”

“Yeah, he told me about your little stunt. You almost killed Faith.”

“But I didn’t,” Elliot insisted, “ and I got valuable information, which was that they weren’t willing to kill her even if it meant killing us, so you’re welcome, you fuckhead!”

“Go fuck yourself,” Jacob bit out.

“Okay,” John interjected just as Elliot opened her mouth, “what if I went too?”

It wasn’t ideal. He didn’t really want to go on a happy little road trip to try and corner a murderous cult, he wanted to just let them fuck off and never come back, but that wasn’t the point. The point was that they had egregiously affected Elliot, and he had promised her, and if he went back on that promise now, the tentative peace they had come to would disappear instantly.

Whether she remembered the marriage or not.

His eldest brother stared at him for a long minute. John half-expected him to say no; after all, the whole point was to make sure they didn’t die, Elliot included, so that they could use her if something went awry after the Family was dealt with.

“Fine,” Jacob said after a moment.

“No!” Elliot protested instantly. “Fuck, God, no, I don’t—need a fucking babysitter.”

“On the contrary, I don’t know how you’ve survived this long without one,” Jacob replied. “John goes with you to choke them, or I go with you.”

Elliot’s mouth twisted in a vicious grimace. She tapped her thumb nail against her lower lip for a moment, her gaze sliding to him; their eyes lingered just a bit longer than normal, and for a second he thought she knew something that she wasn’t telling him.

“I’d rather drill out my own cavities than go with you,” Elliot said to Jacob after a minute.

“Great,” he said flippantly, “so you and John can have a nice little road trip down the highway—”

“Cool.”

“—and we’ll pin them in from the back. We’ve got enough explosives to light up the entire gaggle of them, but only once, so you’d better make it fucking count. Got it?”

Something was clearly brewing. It unsettled John, the way that she regarded him with a fixed, unreadable gaze. It struck John that Elliot hadn’t, in the last few days, mentioned anything about her plan, or her next move. It was the first time that he was not acutely aware of her intentions beyond revenge for Hudson.

What’s going on in that head of yours? He wondered. What’s storming around in there?

“Got it,” Elliot replied, at length. “So when do we leave?”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Elliot stood by idly while Joseph went about his work. His “work” being speaking in low murmurs to John and Jacob, hands on both of their shoulders, heads bowed together as he took them through what was certainly some kind of horrific disfigurement of a prayer.

Joseph had been pleased when she’d told him about that night in her apartment. He’d looked elated, to know the nitty-gritty details of her worst nightmare; of her then-boyfriend terrorizing her, for weeks, before breaking into her apartment. He’d been thrilled. He’d cradled her face and said, Don’t worry, Elliot. You’re safe now.

She had to bite back a laugh. Safe , like that meant anything to her anymore. Her apartment had been safe. Joey had been safe. And what had that gotten her?

Alone.

Alone, and with strange, broken moments of time. John had said that she’d gone straight to sleep, but if that was the case, she’d had uncomfortable dreams, too. Splintering fragments of what felt like a memory. John, kissing her, arms wrapped around her midsection: I want to be yours. I want a home, with you.

It was too much of a fairytale to have been real, she knew—John would never. He’d said it himself; he’d do anything for his family, and that meant dying, and lying, and squirming his way into her bed, and fuck him for being that way. Maybe she wanted him in her bed, and fuck him for that, too.

Because he had lied to her. Or at the very least, he hadn’t been entirely truthful with her. Elliot knew she’d taken her gun with her, and when she’d woken up, she’d seen it on the table.

“You’re not riding this time, bud,” she said to Boomer, the keys in her hand. “I don’t want you in the car if you don’t have to be.”

The Heeler gazed her, big brown eyes soft and trusting. His tail wagged softly in the dirt. If there was someone that was going to make it out of here, no matter what, she’d make sure it was Boomer.

“Elliot.” It was Faith’s voice. She had slipped up while the brothers spoke amongst themselves, smiling at her, small and tentative.

“Hey, Faith,” Elliot greeted her, clearing her throat. A wad of anxiety rolled in her stomach at the sight of the blonde—something she wasn’t expecting, and that she couldn’t quite parse out. “What are you doing up so late? Or—early, I guess.”

“I wanted to see you off,” she replied sweetly. “You’re going to get that guy, right? The one that killed Hudson?”

She swallowed thickly. “Yeah.”

“Good.” The blonde sounded oddly determined. “I hope he suffers.”

A wave of affection washed over her. It was an unexpectedly kind thing to say. “Me too.”

The brothers finished their convening, and as they divided—John to her, Jacob to a group of Peggies, and Joseph beckoning Faith to follow him into the chapel—Elliot felt something settle right in her, just under her skin, and John glanced back over his shoulder before he reached up.

His fingers brushed her jaw. She didn’t recoil the same way she had before, but steeled herself against the instinct to do so; the two combating urges to both lean and pull away. But she stayed perfectly still, and when John leaned down, she tilted her chin up.

Their lips brushed. She wanted to linger in the moment, to enjoy it, but she couldn’t brush off the creeping knowledge that he hadn’t been honest with her.

“Aren’t you excited to go on a roadtrip with me?” John said, his voice low as he kissed her.

Elliot tilted her head just a little bit out of his grasp. “So I can hear you complain about my driving?”

“Mean.” He smiled against her mouth. “Cruel. Wicked.”

“Are you trying to compliment me into submission?” Elliot asked, and then he kissed her again—slower this time, more leisurely; indulgent was the word he should have used for her, all things considered.

He looked at her for a moment, a little like he couldn’t get enough of her, and murmured, “Not into submission. Just complimenting for all the normal reasons.”

“Are you two leaving or what?” Jacob snapped from a few feet away. “We have time wasting.”

Elliot exhaled, sharp and tired, against John’s mouth, and he laughed, pulling away from her. He waved at Jacob before he walked around to the other side of the truck and climbed in; she hoisted herself into the driver’s side and rolled the window down and cranked the engine on. Everything she thought they might need had been loaded into the small space behind their seats—guns, ammo, what medical supplies she’d been able to take from Fall’s End, some food. She tapped a cigarette out of a carton she’d snagged and lit it.

“Really?” John asked, without heat, as she pulled the truck slowly away from the center of the yard.

“I’m tired,” Elliot replied, taking a drag of the cigarette. “If I am still sick, it’s really sticking with me.”

John was quiet at that, glancing out the window as they pulled out of the compound, and she whistled out the window and Boomer took off to dart through the underbrush like an arrow; dark and sleek and lethal. She could see his eyes glinting in the headlights as she turned onto the road and hit pavement.

“You shouldn’t have had to come,” she said.

“I would’ve wanted to, even if Jacob didn’t demand it.” John glanced over at her, and for a second she thought he looked almost sly as he continued, “You don’t have to do everything alone all the time, you know.”

“Please don’t try and Atlas this thing, deputy.”

Jerome’s voice clattered around in her, vibrating each time it connected with some surface of her memory; but she didn’t let herself feel them, didn’t let them wander into her conscience, because if she did she would have lost herself to the grief.

“I know,” Elliot said quietly, tapping the ash out the window. “It’s just hard. I don’t—I’m not—”

“A team player?” he prompted, reaching over and taking the cigarette out of her hand so that he could take a drag for himself. Before she could correct him on what she was going to say— good at letting go —he snagged her free hand and in a surprising act of affection, brought it to his mouth to kiss her fingers.

“We’ll kill him, El,” John continued. He carried an easiness about him now that he hadn’t had before, like he was suddenly very relaxed despite the task at hand. “And then this whole nightmare will be over.”

The irony that John Seed was assuring her that the nightmare would be finished was palpable, and certainly not lost on her. Even if it was endearing, the way that he snagged her hand and kissed her knuckles, the way that he smoked her cigarette down, like she could get a secondhand-decompression from it.

“Yeah,” she murmured, “I know, John.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

As soon as they hit the highway, the dark night sky stretching out above them, Elliot felt herself relax.

For the first time in a long time, she felt still ; as though all of that vibrating, all of that suffering, had ended, even if it was only for a moment. Even if that meant that John Seed was a part of the quiet.

“Remember the last time you were driving us somewhere?” John prompted from the passenger seat, rolling the window up against the chill of the late evening. “You stole my sunglasses, you smoked in the car, and then you tried to drive us into an oncoming car. With my sister in it.”

“This sounds like a lot of complaining for someone who’s still in one piece,” Elliot replied, hitting the cruise button on the truck and glancing out the window. She was going slower than normal, letting Boomer dart through the underbrush as he trailed them. He’d barely gotten half the amount of exercise he’d been used to since they’d been in the compound, so he was probably having the time of his little doggy life.

“I’m just saying, cruising at a cool twenty-five on an empty highway seems highly out of character for you.”

Elliot opened her mouth to say something, her head turning to look at John, but several things happened in very quick succession: Boomer barked, loud and sharp on her left, John leaned forward to look at him, and when John leaned, Elliot saw a dark, gray shape lurching its way from the far side of the road up onto the pavement.

Panic shot through her body. She slammed her foot on the gas, but it was too late; the van—and that’s what it was, a van —was quicker on the uptake and slammed straight into the back end of the truck, sending it tires-squealing across the highway and straight into a tree. The sound of crunching metal and glass breaking rang in her ears as her body lurched with the movement, wrenching against the steering wheel with a force that knocked the wind right out of her.

She was aware, vaguely, of airbags weakly deploying. Fucking Peggies, she thought through the haze of pain, fumbling with her seatbelt. And then her body kicked again: someone fucking hit us, fuck fuck fuck, oh shit oh fuck, her finger jamming uselessly on the mangled seatbelt clicker.

“John?” Elliot asked, as smoke billowed into the front of the car. The windshield was broken, and the engine sputtered dangerously.

“What—in the fuck—?” His voice was groggy, and through the smoke filling the cab of the truck and her own blurring vision she could see the dim shape of him moving.

The seatbelt finally released, and she fumbled blindly at John’s, ignoring the burning filling her lungs and stinging across her skin.

“John, we have to—John we have to fucking move,” she said, and then she heard the door behind her swing open; frantically she pushed at John’s seatbelt, trying to scoot away from the noise instinctively, but the second she felt a hand gripping the back of her shirt in a fist, she could feel the dread wadding up in her stomach.

Elliot wrenched her body hard, not bothering to look before she tried to kick whoever was grabbing at her. The hand gripping her sweater went harder, another wrapping around her calf.

And then yanked. Hard.

There was no collision of body; no one was trying to catch her out of the truck, but just haul her out, tossing her like a rag doll onto the hard ground beside the road. It was the second time in as many minutes where the wind was ripped straight out of her, and she coughed, struggling to sit up.

A booted foot planted itself on her shoulder and pressed her back into the ground.

“Sit back, mor,” an unfortunately familiar red-head cooed, digging his foot into her shoulder until she squirmed. “Relax.”

“Fuck—yourself,” Elliot ground out, wrapping her free arm around the offending leg to try and get some leverage to pull herself out from under him. But Kian easily breezed past six feet tall, and probably weighed twice as much as her. He grabbed the hand gripping his knee with a kind of bruising force and twisted until she couldn’t bite back the cry of pain.

She could hear the sounds of voices on the other side of the truck, the sound of a car pulling up next to the wreckage, and Boomer barking furiously.

John, she thought hazily, they’re grabbing him, and Boomer. I have to fucking—I have to get up, I have move, fucking move you useless fucking body.

“Did you get my gift?” Kian asked her, lifting his foot so he could haul her to her feet. Get out get out get out her brain was screaming when his free hand gripped her throat the same way it had done before. “Did you like it, mor? Picked out every flower myself and stuffed each one in. Her eyes —”

Elliot tried to throw her body weight one way, but to no avail; the images were already flooding over her. Joey, packed full of flowers. Joey, blooming from every part of her.

“—her mouth —”

“Stop,” Elliot begged, her voice coming out hoarse, grating on each sensitive part of her soul on its way out. “Don’t talk about her—”

“—her ribs and chest, those were the best parts to fill up,” Kian seethed. “Broke every one of her pretty little ribs and yanked them right out. Could not waste any space, could we, mor?”

He spat the moniker at her with venom. Where Ase had said it to her reverently, with adoration, caressing her with the single-syllable, he bit it out of his mouth: he sank his teeth into it, brimming with hatred.

Her vision fuzzed around the edges, and Kian dug his fingers into the soft skin of her throat. “Ase—said,” Elliot managed out, one last-ditch attempt at survival, “she said she was—she was waiting for me—”

Kian hauled her against the truck, all but throwing her against the dented and splintering metal as the smell of burning rubber filled the air. Every inch of her body was screaming , straining and aching, desperate for some kind of relief from the constant onslaught of pain.

“Ase,” Kian hissed out against her temple, so low that she almost couldn’t hear him, “is dead. Your man killed her. Or don’t you remember?”

Elliot wheezed. She did, but his grip on her throat was so tight that she thought she was going to pass out; there was no room to answer even if she thought that Kian wanted to hear it.

“We’re going to have fun, little one.” He punctuated each word as hard as he could, punching it out of his mouth. “We’re going to see how fast you can run. You and that man of yours. Did you know, mor —”

His fingers loosened on her throat, brushing over what she was sure was a bruise from John her neck, almost admiring. The sensation sent unpleasant goosebumps prickling along her spine.

“—that I have intimate knowledge of the human body?” he finished. “So much time digging around in one, you start to figure out how to make someone’s life end quickly—or make them die a long and suffering death.” He smiled, the gesture out of place on his face; in another life, in another world, Kian would have been handsome, but in this lifetime the expression on him only looked jagged and sharp. Like it didn’t quite fit into his skin.

Elliot gathered up whatever strength she had left and spit in his face.

She hadn’t realized her mouth was full of blood, but in hindsight, it wasn’t surprising; watching the crimson splatter Kian’s face was more a happy little treat, albeit short-lived.

“You ugly fuckhead,” she gritted out as he wiped the blood from his face. “I’m pretty good at making sure people suffer, too, let me go first and we can—s-swap notes—”

Too late, she realized that Kian was banking on her mouthing off; he fished something out of his pocket and then shoved it into her mouth. It was a wet washcloth, the taste of it earthy and reminiscent of the lingering taste that had been in her mouth when she’d woken up at the camp before. She tried desperately to spit it out, but her jaw worked tiredly, exhausted.

“Much better,” he said. “I’ll tell you what: I see your color too, mor, and do you know what I see? Not white, not perfect balance like Ase said. You are gray. Oh.” He clicked his tongue, gripping her neck to pull her forward and then slam her back against the truck again, sending her vision spinning. “So sad, aren’t you? Don’t worry. You’ll bloom for me.”

Kian beamed at her, almost boyish, holding her with his vice-like grip.

“They always do.”

#far cry 5 #john seed x female deputy #john seed x oc #far cry fic #ch: elliot honeysett #ch: john seed #my writing #fic: ancient names #hm. sorry the word count is so long and yet almost nothing happens in this chapter #boomer's a good boy #elliot is in a den of vipers #everything resumes as normal #THANK YOU EVERYONE FOR COMMENTING/REBLOGGING/LIKING tbh i #probably would not have written any of this without yall #anyway it's whiteclaw hour in the ash household so we're getting sappy up in here

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