#please please read this if you love angst!

[hueseok]

it was always you.

for as long as you remember, you’ve always had the fattest crush on your childhood friend, jeon jungkook. it never blossomed into something more though, because that’s what happens when life naturally takes it course—you grow up, you move on, and you pretend that those feelings never existed in order to maintain the good friendship that remained between the two of you over the years.

so when he visits you after work one day, asking you to marry him, you do everything you can to refuse, because the reason he’s asking you isn’t due to the fact that he finally realized that he loved you after all this time, but because he thinks he’s doing you a big favor.

or at least, that’s what you think.

pairing: jungkook x reader

word count: 13.2k

rating: 18+

content: fluff, semi-angst, childhood friends to lovers au, pining au | ft. naval aviator!jungkook + brother’s best friend!jungkook; professor!reader + editor!reader | inspired by purple hearts

warning/s: swearing, potentially wrong medical & military information (i’m sorry but i tried to do as much research i can 😭), mentions of having type 1 diabetes, making out, heavy petting, implied sexual content: oral (f. receiving), fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex (this is only fiction!)

MINI PLAYLIST: ♫ die with a smile — lady gaga, bruno mars ♫ juno — sabrina carpenter ♫ selfish — *nsync ♫ nandito na ako — benj pangilinan, angela ken

opening note. omg this is my first full length fic in two damn years i think??? certainly took a long time before i had the motivation to write again but i hope y'all like this! to my og readers who still keep up with my shenanigans, this one's for you 🥹💗

“Any questions?”

A boy wearing half-rimmed glasses raises his hand and you gesture for him to speak. “Can we get an extension on the Save the Cat project due tomorrow?”

You sigh, just as several of your students begin agreeing with him and muttering reasons of their own why the extension should be approved. It’s the week before finals, and you’re aware that the class must be packed with assignments and projects for several of their classes because of it, hence the rather last minute request. They look tired and pleading, a complete reflection of how you were when you were the one in their position nearly a decade ago, begging for an extension from a professor who you thought was kind enough to be swayed with the proposition.

You scan the crowd. “How many of you are at least 70% with it, hm?”

More than half of the class raises their hands.

“Okay, that’s honestly unexpected,” you say, pleased to know that they aren’t slacking on your subject. “Does Monday sound good? That’s three more days, to be fair. I don’t want to extend it further because I have to read everyone’s work and you guys know I don’t like rushing it before turning in your final grade.”

A chorus of relief and thanks echoed in the room, all of your students either dramatically sinking in their chair or erupting in an animated conversation with their seatmate or making crying faces to portray how grateful they are.

“Thank you so much, Ms. ____!”

“I love you, Ms. ____!”

“Ms. ____, I will offer my first child to you,” one theatrically adds and you smile a bit, rolling your eyes at students like this one who is now opting to flatter you way too much for your act of kindness.

“Alright, alright. Just get it done and I’m expecting quality work, okay? Class dismissed.”

The whole class begins to gather their things at the cue and you don’t stay there a minute longer after your announcement, exiting the lecture hall to head to the faculty room where you’re certain half of the teaching staff have gone home already. It’s already 8:47 p.m., and all you want to do is head home to get the rest you deserve after an eventful day.

There was a time that having a schedule from 6 p.m. to 9 p.m. wasn’t the norm for you. You used to value work life balance so much—it was even a nonnegotiable you used to say in interviews, saying that if you didn’t get enough rest within the week, then the job most likely wasn’t for you. But things have been very different for the past months; you have definitely grown out of that mindset due to the fact that you’re simply in need of another source of income to pay for your monthly rent, utility bills, and now your medication. You’re in a stage of your life wherein you consider working part time as a professor was a blessing rather than a big nuisance.

Making a right turn to where the hallway to the faculty room is, you’re too busy rearranging the papers inside the folder you’re holding to notice a man sitting on the bench placed just beside the entrance. He notices you the second you appear in his line of vision though; he straightens his posture and proceeds on standing up immediately upon seeing you closer, calling your name softly when you failed to look at his direction, too preoccupied with the thought of finally coming home that you’re oblivious that the man trying to catch your attention is Jeon Jungkook.

“____,” he calls again and this time you notice him, your eyes widening instantly.

“Holy shi—” You stop yourself from finishing that sentence. “Jungkook?”

He grins. “Hey, lamb chop.”

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“Is that how you greet an old friend?”

“Oh, fuck off.”

He laughs, following suit to you who’s already giggling just by his presence alone, outstretching his arms then. “You gonna hug me or what?”

You beam and step forward to embrace him. He returns it without hesitation, muscular arms circling around you and squeezing tightly that it lifts you up from the ground for a quick second. The faint smell of fabric conditioner on his clothes enters your nostrils and you feel like a teenager again, warmth rushing to your face while your heart hammers loudly in your chest. Regardless of how old the both of you are, you think your hopeless crush on the guy will forever live on and constantly transform you into a middle school girl whenever opportunities like these to have him near arise. You’re just happy you’ve trained yourself to be better at hiding it now compared to when you were younger.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in base or wherever it is that you’re designated?” you ask, the first to let go from the hug.

“Actually, I returned from deployment three days ago. I’m on leave for two weeks.”

“Wow. Two weeks, huh?”

“Yep. It’s the longest break I’ve gotten in a while.”

“That’s good. Everybody needs a break from time to time.”

“Says the girl has a day job and a night job.” He points out with a smirk; your heart does a little leap at how handsome he looks doing that. “When the hell did you get into teaching, by the way? I never pegged you to be the kind who can tolerate it. You hate kids.”

“You’ll find yourself tolerating lots of things in this economy.” You snort. “And my students aren’t kids. They’re in college.”

“Yeah, which you graduated from six years ago. Still technically kids.”

“Are you seriously jabbing at my age when you’re two years older than I am?”

He rolls his eyes at that one, an indication that you won the argument. “Anyway,” he starts again and you grin, “I didn’t come here to compare how old we are—”

“You didn’t?”

He sends you a look. Your grin gets even wider.

“I’m here because I was hoping to treat you to dinner.”

“Dinner?” you repeat, not masking the surprise from your voice.

Let’s get the facts straight before we proceed to this conversation.

It isn’t a lie when you say that you and Jungkook are great friends. You have been since you were 7 and your family just moved into the house next to theirs. He was a natural playmate, a companion when you couldn’t tolerate the antics of your older brother, the boy who looked out for you aside from said older brother, and the person you’ve shared significant history with throughout your youth that you can never seem to forget nor disregard.

It’s just that you never deemed that you were great enough friends for him to go out of his way and visit you at your workplace, offering to treat you for dinner. Gestures like that were reserved for your older brother, Seowon, who’s the same age as he is and who you’re sure is considered as his best friend. Compared to them, yours and Jungkook’s dynamic shifted slightly after graduating from college. What once was a really close friendship turned into a casual one, with mostly just teasing, light talks, and the occasional welfare checks at times you hear certain news from the other that’s worth speaking directly about.

At the mention of that, realization dawns on you on why he must be here.

“Jungkook…” You’re trying not to sound mad but you can’t hide the exasperation from your voice. “That’s not the real reason you’re here.”

“Of course, it is. Why else would I be here?”

“He told you, didn’t he?” you ask, not willing to drag this out. “You’re just going to give me another lecture that I definitely don’t need.”

Jungkook frowns, like he’s dismayed that you caught on pretty swiftly.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” You pressed.

“He meant well, ____.”

You scowl. To remark that Seowon is unnecessarily nosy and coddling would be an understatement. That man hasn’t left you alone the second he was aware of your condition. Usually, whenever he gets into his ‘big brother tendencies’, his girlfriend Winnie steps in and helps you lay him off your back. However, it’s different this time; no matter how much you reinstill your independence and insist that you’re fine, it’s like you’re talking to a wall.

“What exactly did you hear from him?” you query.

He seems hesitant in answering that. “That you got diagnosed with type 1 diabetes.”

You wince.

“Look,” he steps forward towards you, “I wasn’t going to bring it up unless you did, okay? I’m just here because I’m genuinely worried about you and I want to know how you’re doing.”

“I’m fine.” You murmur. “You don’t need to worry.”

“Worry doesn’t vanish magically just because someone says so.”

“Well, it should—because I’m fine.”

“You sure? I heard that you’re struggling to buy insulin among other things you’re having a hard time paying.”

“Fuck. Seowon told you that too? That’s private.”

“My parents know. He just filled me in because he wants you to have as much support as you can get.”

“I don’t need that. I’m an adult. I’ve lived by myself for years. I can fend for myself just fine.”

“It doesn’t look like it from what I’ve been hearing.”

“All you’re hearing is a warped and exaggerated version of the story told by Seowon who won’t listen to a word I say.” You huff. “I’m fine and I’ve been doing everything I can, alright? I’m taking care of myself. I’m going to the doctor whenever I need to. I’m making ends meet, buying treatment for this goddamn disease and regulating my sugar levels all the fucking time. Why do you think I’ve been working two jobs for the past year? It’s because I’m doing everything I can to stay alive.”

Jungkook doesn’t reply, he only remains gazing at you.

“If you’re here to offer me money or whatever because of what he said,” you add, already embarrassed that you can’t even look at him anymore, “then I don’t want it.”

“That’s not what I’m here for,” he says.

“Then are you really just here to treat me to dinner?” you question sarcastically.

He laughs and you dare return your eyes at him, catching him peering at you with a fond expression. “Yes. It’s my way of doing a welfare check.”

“Welfare check.” You echo with squinted eyes. “Well, in that case, here I am—alive and healthy.”

“I can see that, and I’m glad.” He smiles. “But I need more than just seeing you. I need a conversation and an apology.”

“An apology?”

“For being the last person to know about your condition.”

“And we’re still talking about that apparently.” You mutter under your breath. “Sorry. I didn’t think that you wanted to know.”

“Of course, I would have wanted to know. It’s you we’re talking about here.”

Something about how he said you causes your lips to twitch as you fight off a smile. This isn’t a good time to dive into your romantic feelings for your childhood crush, but when he’s letting go of lines like that which are sure to have your heart soaring out of your chest, it’s hard to keep on a cool and unfazed facade. You just convince yourself that he sees you as a little sister and that’s why he’s so worried; you should already be past your ‘delulu’ phase at this age to be affected by such statements.

“I didn’t want to add to your worries,” you reason. “You already have your life to think about. Add to the fact that you’re a naval aviator—so you literally have your own life first to think about.”

“I can make space for you.”

Is he flirting? Is this a normal thing to say between friends?

You blink. “Okay, uh, that’s… that’s completely up to you, I guess.”

“I just like knowing those things first hand. It makes me worry less.”

“Got it. Next time I learn I’m dying, I’ll tell you.”

“____,” he says your name in warning, and you know he’s serious.

“Sorry.” You heat up. “I couldn’t resist.”

“Don’t be a pain in the ass.”

“I promise that’ll be the last time I make a dark joke, Lieutenant.”

Jungkook’s nostrils flare. You prevent yourself from grinning like a fool again in success of getting on his nerves.

“Are you done here? Because I’m hungry and would really like to get going now.” He changes the subject and gestures to the faculty.

“Yeah. I’ll just get my things and then I can get out of here.”

“Great. You’re letting me take you to dinner, right?” 

“Do I have a choice?”

“No.”

“Fine.” You deadpan.

This time, he’s the one who’s beaming at you. “I’ll wait for you here and we can go.”

“Okay.”

****

When Jungkook discovered that you had type 1 diabetes through a phone call with Seowon, he spent the rest of the night staring at the ceiling, ignoring the snores of his squadmates and overthinking what’s supposed to happen to you now that you had an autoimmune disease which he was told didn’t have a cure. He was assured that you were okay despite it, that there was medication to treat it, and that you had access to them and have been very careful with your lifestyle due to the diagnosis ever since.

He still couldn’t be put to ease though. As ridiculous as it may sound, he had this overwhelming realization that life truly was short, that you had to make certain decisions all the time because you need to adjust to what the universe is only willing to give you. It was funny coming from a person who risked his life for a living. He thinks that perhaps he never understood the philosophy of the quote ‘time is gold’ until he had a loved one on the same trajectory, always one step closer to possible death.

And so that same night, he decided to file a leave for two weeks, effective immediately after his deployment. 

He wasn’t sure what his game plan was exactly in filing that two-week leave. Was he supposed to barge in your life and force you to let him take care of you? Was he supposed to demand why you ended up having diabetes? Was he supposed to act as a big brother like your actual big brother because he was that worried about you? But if Jungkook was going to be truthful, he already had an idea on what he wanted to do in the back of his head—he just didn’t want to execute it because it was absolutely insane.

Until he heard Seowon suggest it himself when they met up at a bar to share a drink together.

“She would never say yes,” Jungkook said, beyond doubt that you won’t be persuaded that easily with a plan like that.

Seowon made a face. “I know. That girl is so hyper independent—she’d rather die than accept help.” He scoffed. “She needs it though. It’ll help with her medication and she won’t have to pay rent for that shit apartment she’s living in. Plus, she'll actually get the chance to take care of her body if she’s not juggling two jobs to have sufficient income.”

“You’re right.” Jungkook shrugged.

“You’ll do it then?”

He took a sip of his beer. “Yeah. I’d do anything for ____, you know that.”

“Even as crazy as marrying her?”

“Sure.”

Seowon stared at him, narrowing his eyes and morphing his expression into a teasing one. “Are you sure you’re not just considering this because it’s a perfect excuse to marry my sister? I know you like her.”

“I don’t like her.” 

“You’re in love with her.”

“I don’t—” Jungkook began to deny but Seowon was staring him down. “Fuck you, man. Don’t make me some kind of pervert who’s trying to lock her into marriage because he likes her. You’re the one who brought the idea up.”

Seowon laughed out loud. “I know, I just can’t believe you’d agree. It’ll benefit ____, that’s for sure—you, on the other hand? It’s career suicide.”

He shrugged. “I’m okay with the thought that she’ll be okay.”

“Because you love her, man.” Seowon pushed. “Why on earth would you consider this if you weren’t? It’s a fraudulent marriage. You’ll be thrown in the brig and be dishonorably discharged if you get caught.”

“We don’t even know if she’ll agree to this whole thing. You said it yourself, she would never say yes.”

“Yeah, unless maybe you’re the one who tries to persuade her.”

“Me?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want me to buy her a ring and kneel down before her or something?”

“That can work.”

“What?” Jungkook laughed.

Seowon raised an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you don’t know how she’s been crushing on you since we were kids.”

He barked out a laugh again. That he knew; it was impossible not to when a lot of friends and cousins kept on teasing you before, especially at instances Jungkook was in the very same vicinity. “We’re not kids anymore and I barely see her though.”

“Still, it ought to count to something. It raises the chances of her agreeing.”

“You’re really cool with me marrying your sister, Won?” Jungkook asked.

Seowon placed down the beer bottle he’s consuming on the counter. “Yeah. You’re a good guy. You’re not perfect, but I know you enough to know that you won’t do anything that will purposely hurt her. Besides, if this sham marriage ends up to be a real relationship and then for some reason, you fuck up and decide to break her heart—I’ll easily know what to do, where to find you, to fuck you up.”

Jungkook pressed his lips together to stifle a chuckle.

“Noted.”

****

It’s always been a big wonder to you how no matter how long it’s been since you saw each other, it still feels like no time has passed between you and Jungkook. You think that’s why you can never get over him; he always had this comforting and familiar aura that you appreciate—something that you sought for in every other person that you liked. Maybe it was impractical, maybe it was the reason you can never hold a relationship for more than two years, but unless you gain the courage to confront your feelings and tell Jungkook about it, then you constantly dispel any doubts you might have whether this was good for you or not.

You don’t want to lose him. Admitting that you harbored romantic feelings for him would just make it awkward for everyone: your brother, your family, and then his family. You don’t think you can ever trade his smile, the sound of his laughter, and all the good things about him for anything in the world. 

“Are you dating anyone?” he asks.

You choke on your drink, having just poured yourself and Jungkook a glass of water after the server arrived with the pitcher. You’re in a Japanese restaurant near the university, aware that the cuisine was a favorite for the both of you hence why it’s what you recommended when he asked where you wanted to dine. The place is packed with people from the workforce and students; you’re thankful that you don’t see any of your students within the mix.

“We’re getting straight to it, huh?” you say.

Jungkook smirks. “I’m just making sure I’m not upsetting a boyfriend by meeting you tonight.”

“Don’t worry, you’re not upsetting anyone.”

He nods in understanding. You don’t want to add more meaning to his actions for the evening but he seems glad about the information.

“How about you?” you ask back. “Are you dating anyone?”

The ends of his mouth lift a bit upwards. “Nope.”

“Why? You don’t have the time for it?”

“Precisely.”

“It must be really hard dating when you’re in the Navy then.”

“Kinda. We’re away a lot and stationed in different places most of the time. It can get really dangerous for us too and people don’t like the stress that comes with that.”

 You bob. “Does it get lonely?”

“Sometimes, but when you’re on duty, you don’t get to think about those things.” He chuckles. “Besides, I don’t know if this sounds fucked up or not—but it can get exciting. Flying a plane can be fun, you know. Not to mention that it helps when you’re surrounded by good men in your squadron.”

“You’ve always been an adrenaline junkie.”

“And you’ve always been a scaredy-cat.”

You scoff at the declaration. “No, I’m not.”

“Remember when Seowon and I forced you to ride that ship in the amusement park that sways left to right and as it goes on it falls from a higher standpoint?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

But you do, and Jungkook knows you do, it’s evident by how your expression is trying to feign innocence. That memory is your villain origin story; the whole pretext of why you refuse to ever visit the amusement park or ride an exhilarating ride again. Yet you can’t help but recall that it’s one of the rare instances wherein you got to hold Jungkook’s hand when you two were younger, as his hand was the one you were clinging for dear life when it happened while the other was too busy slapping Seowon in irritation.

He snickers, appearing like he’s replaying the scene in his head. “We should do that again with Seowon during my break.”

“Hell no.”

“I thought you weren’t a scaredy-cat?” He challenges.

“I’m not.” You give him a kittenish glare. “But I am busy. I have to send the final manuscript of this book I’m editing to the chief editor next week and it’s about to be finals week for my students as well.”

He fakes a shiver. “I don’t know how you can do two jobs like that, ____. Truly.”

“You work as a naval aviator so I’d say we’re pretty even.”

The waiter arrives with your orders not long after, and you and Jungkook carry on with your conversation, jumping from topic to topic without difficulty. You’re not certain when was the last time you saw each other like this to have so much to talk about—was it last Christmas? Or was it more recent or longer than that? Nevertheless, it feels good and you find yourself blushing multiple times throughout the night, whether it’s because of how his words can have two meanings or how his eyes are staring at you so intensely whenever you’re the one who’s talking.

You like the undivided attention, the back and forth that’s occurring as you discourse, the subtle touches one of you does when something funny arises, how your knees are touching underneath the table. You wonder what’s so different with this encounter that the energy feels so bizarre in a good way? As far as you’re concerned, you’re positive that you’re acting like you always have in his presence—lively, smiley, sarcastic—and aside from the little touches of flirting here and there, Jungkook’s acting like he always has too.

When dinner was done, Jungkook offered to drive you home. You obliged, no longer in the mood to annoy him for you were tired to make the effort. Before stepping outside the restaurant however, you excused yourself to the restroom first, checking your blood sugar with the glucose meter you brought along wherever you went. It’s a hassle but it’s necessary, largely because you’re still in the middle of saving up for the insulin pump that would help you regulate your sugar levels easier.

After administering yourself with the insulin injection you have, you spend a few more seconds inside the enclosed room. You should be past the point of feeling sorry for yourself, but it’s times like this wherein you’re with a loved one that the dejection hits and you wish that you’re in a better predicament than you are right now. You’re close to being broke, you’re overworked, you’re somehow fatigued all the fucking time—those factors aren’t soothing your worries at all. It’s a miracle how you manage to keep an optimistic mind amidst everything.

“Ready to go?” Jungkook smiles at you once you’re back at the table and you nod, clutching your bag tighter against your body and following him to his car.

He drives you to your place, turning the radio on, and letting it play while the both of you sit in silence. You’re both tired and you almost even sleep during the ride. It’s only when Jungkook gently shakes you awake that you realize that you’ve arrived in front of your apartment building.

“I’ll walk you up,” he insists as you’re unbuckling the seatbelt. 

“That’s no need, Kook.”

“Of course, it is,” he says. “I’ll walk you up. That’s nonnegotiable.”

So, you allow him.

It takes five minutes tops to reach the door leading to your apartment. As you rummage through your bag to grab your keys, Jungkook patiently stands there, occasionally glancing around the hallway and even smiling when the old lady that resided in the same floor got out of her room to throw out the trash. He receives a smile in return which you notice and grin fondly at.

“Well, this is me.” You turn to him, done unlocking your door. “I’d invite you inside but you should probably get going. It’s quite a long drive back home.”

“Yeah.” He breathes out a chuckle. “Hey, tonight was fun. It made me realize how I missed you.”

Your brain temporarily malfunctions; you force yourself to recover quickly. “Me too. I had fun tonight. Maybe we should do this again whenever you’re on a break.”

“Agreed.”

You flash him a smile. “You can go now. Goodnight.”

Jungkook nods, however doesn’t move a muscle. He’s looking at you, like really looking at you, his eyes moving from one feature to another, as if he’s memorizing your face or having a hard time arranging the words he wants to say. You guess it’s the latter, familiar with a tongue-tied Jungkook that it takes you a few good seconds before you’re demanding why he’s impersonating a mannequin.

“There’s something I want to say,” that’s what he utters and you almost snort due to your assumption being right.

“Okay…” The smile is still on your lips. “What is it?”

“Promise me you won’t get mad first.”

“Well, if you’re making me promise that then it’s probably worth being mad about.”

“It’s not as bad as you think.”

“That’s not convincing at all.”

“It’s just…” He begins and trails, biting his lower lip, “it’s… it’s why I went here. Why I went here to see and meet you, I mean.”

You unconsciously recoil at the revelation. It’s certainly a rookie mistake to believe that there was no ulterior motive in Jungkook meeting you today. You just didn’t reckon you’d actually be truly disappointed at that—at the idea that he just didn’t randomly decide to visit and be with you earlier until now.

You draw a long breath. “Well, I knew you weren’t just feeling generous and wanted to treat me to dinner out of nowhere.”

There’s a pause and then he resumes. “Just—before I say it, you have to hear me out, okay? You have to let me explain before you berate me.”

“I can’t promise that either.”

“You have to.”

“Why do I have to?”

“Because what I’m about to say is for your own sake. You know I always have your best interest at heart, don’t you?”

You wrinkle your forehead in further confusion. “Can you just get on with it? The vagueness is making me more annoyed.”

“I just don’t want you to misunderstand.”

“Misunderstand what?”

“What I—and Seowon—genuinely think is the best option.”

“Oh, and Seowon is in on this too?” You bellow. “Have you and Seowon just been conspiring behind my back the whole time?”

“Calm down.” Jungkook puts his hands on your shoulders, a chuckle inevitably escaping him. “I’m sorry for dragging it out. You should know I’m high key afraid of you, that’s why.”

“You should be.” You grumble.

Another chuckle, but he’s back to appearing anxious. You want to shout that this isn’t healthy, that you’re close to giving him a real reason to be afraid of you—yet once he blurts the confession out, you’re speechless, gawking at him and staggering backwards in complete shock. Perhaps you would have bolted as far away from him as possible if not for his solid grasp.

“What?” You hiss.

He swallows hard.

“I want you to marry me, ____.”

You don’t bolt away running. You shake off his hold on you though, and before he gets another word in, you’re hastily rushing inside your apartment and slamming the door to his face.

****

Jungkook was your first kiss.

It happened in a game of truth and dare. You were at a party of a mutual friend and when the bottle miserably pointed in Jungkook’s direction, the person who was tasked to think of his dare when it was his pick said that he dared him to do 7 minutes in heaven with you. 

He profusely refused at first, especially since Seowon was in the same party, but everybody began booing and next thing you know, Jungkook was agreeing as long as it was fine with you. When you nodded to make your consent apparent, your friends were quick to shove you both in the closet, some of them pulling Seowon back who was complaining how it wasn’t right to bully you into doing 7 minutes in heaven with Jungkook. They calmed him down once they bullied him into agreeing too.

“We don’t have to do anything,” Jungkook told you in the darkness, his breath fawning over your face. “You don’t have to feel pressured. It’s just a stupid game.”

You blushed.

Secretly, you were hoping that he’d kiss you or touch you. Who didn’t want to do anything with their crush at the age of 15? A lot can happen in 7 minutes. You were aware that sometimes people made out, went as far as third base, and although you didn’t want to go that far with Jungkook, you wanted something to happen while you were stuck in this small closet with him. There weren’t a lot of instances that put both of you in this kind of situation; you wished that you were brave enough to ask him to kiss you or do the first move yourself.

5 minutes in, Jungkook turned towards you.

“Is it true that Taehyung kissed you last week?”

You whipped your head so fast that you might have given yourself whiplash. “That’s—that’s not true. Where did you hear that?”

“During homeroom. Some girls were talking about it.”

Your cheeks burned. “Oh.”

“So, it’s not true?”

“No.” You shook your head. “I haven’t even had my first kiss yet.” You laughed weakly.

It was his turn to seem stunned. “You haven’t had your first kiss yet?”

You shook your head again, then realized he might not see you doing so. “Not yet.”

“Want me to change that?” he asked, grinning.

He said that with a boyish grin and teasing tone, but you sucked at social cues (plus, you really couldn’t see shit that much) that you started nodding.

“Okay,” you told him.

“Huh?”

“You can kiss me.”

“Oh, oh, shit—I didn’t—” He was blabbering, about to take back what he offered. “I mean, I was just joking but—”

You widen your eyes. “You were? Oh my God, I’m sorry, I thought you were—”

“No, it was my fault. That was a little out of line for me. I’m sorry.” He was laughing and you felt like burying yourself 6 feet under. “It was a stupid thing to say. But if you want me to kiss you, it’s cool.”

“It is?” Hope sparked within you.

“Yeah. It’ll just be a peck anyway.” You can tell he was smiling through his voice. “Just don’t tell Seowon because he might punch me in the face for kissing his sister.”

You cackled. “Deal.”

56 seconds before the 7 minutes were up, Jungkook leaned down to match your level and placed his lips on yours. 

****

You’re seething with rage, the embodiment of Godzilla, channeling the God of War, Ares, in your body; you harshly press Seowon’s number on your phone to call him and he answers after three rings.

“What’s up?”

“I will fucking murder you,” you snarl.

A beat. You hear shuffling. Then he answers, “you already talked with Jungkook?”

The nonchalance and calmness in his voice drives you to be more frustrated than you already are. “Yes, I have! What is wrong with you? Why would you plant that idea on his head?” You yell, not caring that your walls are thin and that your voice can probably be heard by the couple that lived next door. You’re feeling a mixture of anger, embarrassment, and every negative emotion that exists at the moment. You’re comparable to a bull who just saw the color red.

“____, it won’t be a big deal if you don’t make it to be.”

“Are you hearing yourself right now?”

“Did you even let Jungkook explain?”

“I don’t need him to spell everything out. I know why he’s asking me to marry him.”

“Then you know too that it’d be good for you.”

“Marrying him won’t be good for me.”

“Why not?”

“It just won’t!”

“You’ll get health insurance benefits that you don’t get with your current jobs. You can pay less rent once you move in at Jungkook’s place—there’s a huge chance he won’t even let you pay him while you stay there too. He’s away most of the time anyway, so staying there wouldn’t be a problem. Plus, you can start studying for a masters degree like you’ve always wanted.”

You groan. “Not like this. This is crazy.”

“The both of you can divorce once you’ve saved up a little. It really isn’t that complicated.”

“It’s a sham marriage!”

“It’s a sham marriage with Jungkook.”

“That doesn’t make it better.”

“Are you sure? Your grade school diary might disagree.”

“Oh my God, that’s fucking low of you to bring that up. You just gave me another reason to hate you.” You stomp around the living room, acting like a teenager because of your brother’s behavior. This isn’t the first time he revealed that he’s read your diary before; that doesn’t mean it’s less infuriating to be reminded that he has. “I swear, you better fucking sleeping with one eye open tonight. I’m choking you to death.”

Seowon laughs out loud. “Just marry him. He’s surprisingly amicable with the idea.”

“That’s because you’re pressuring him! I bet you and Mom devised this entire thing together.”

“Mom doesn’t know. To be fair, she’d probably have the same reaction as you. It’s all me and Jungkook.”

“Wow. You have two brains and yet none of you thought this was goddamn stupid?”

“It’s not stupid. It’s genius if you come to think of it,” he says. “Jungkook just wants to help you, dude. He wants to make sure you’ll be okay and all that shit. You’re the reason he filed for a two-week leave, did he tell you?”

Your heart does that jumping thing again. “No.”

“Well, he did. He’s on a break for two weeks because he wants to convince you to marry him and actually marry you within that time frame.”

“This is nuts.” You sigh, finally flopping down the sofa and rubbing your face with your free hand. “The both of you are nuts. How are you okay with this?”

“It’s Jungkook. I trust him. Don’t you?”

“Of course, I do, I just—” you cut yourself off and frown, “I just feel like it’s unfair for him. I’m marrying him because of military spouse benefits and what does he get?”

There’s a long pause, and you almost check your phone to see whether Seowon has already hung up on you or not.

“It’s better that Jungkook answers that question,” he tells you finally.

“Why? You can’t answer it on behalf of him?”

“Something like that.” You can imagine him shrugging. “All I know is that he’s genuinely concerned about your health and your financial status right now. So, just think about it, okay?”

“God, fuck it, fine. I’ll think about it.” You grimace.

You hang up and glance at the door.

You don’t think the conversation you just had with Seowon took that much time. The initial rush you had upon having your longtime crush propose to you is wearing off and you’re realizing that it was a dick move to literally slam the door right in Jungkook’s face earlier, leading you to stand up from your seat and look through the peephole to check if he’s still there.

He isn’t, which you sigh in relief at.

As you lean against the door and regulate your breathing, you think how funny it is that Seowon is right about one thing—and that was grade school you would have been delighted at the thought of getting married to Jungkook. He’s your dream guy; your parents loved him, his parents loved you, the both of you got along very well, and his personality and looks are everything that you’re looking for in a partner. It sucks that you live in a world where the only reason he wants to marry you is because he’s afraid you’ll die because of self-neglect. 

Your phone pings and you unlock the screen to look at the message that flashes on it.

Jungkook: hey, seowon just messaged me to say that you two already talked Jungkook: i’m sorry for jumping on you with a topic like that… Jungkook: i’m shit at confrontation lol Jungkook: also it’s the first time i’m proposing so give me some slack

You scoff at his audacity to joke about it this soon.

You: it’s okay You: i’m sorry too for what i did You: the answer is no btw

Jungkook: already??? Jungkook: let’s talk about it first

You: no need You: i don’t want to marry you

Jungkook: oof that’s harsh

You: sorry not sorry?

He doesn’t respond and you think you’re safe. Maybe Jungkook does take no for an answer and you’re confused because you’re a little disappointed that he’s not falling on his knees, begging you to marry him like what your imagination is supplying you.

However, after you took a shower and went to check your phone again, you see that Jungkook messaged you a few minutes ago in response to your last message.

Jungkook: give me 10 days and i’ll change your mind

You have the urge to go take a shower again because of how hot your body is feeling at the statement.

You: hate to break it to you but you’re not matthew mcconaughey

Jungkook: 🤣🤣🤣

****

It’s not part of Jungkook’s branding to chase a woman. Typically, women chase him; they chase him in every city and country that he gets stationed in, flirting with him and hoping that they’ll get the chance to take him home for the night for a mindblowing one-night stand. They never succeed though, for despite their pretty faces and sultry gestures, Jungkook only smiles and declines every offer, saying that he had a girl waiting back home that he loved very much.

He used to think that he only used that as an excuse because he’s not the type to hook up with every attractive girl he meets. There are times when he succumbs, when he gives into the temptation of a little fun, especially after a life threatening or highly stressful mission—but most of the time, he thinks he declines and use that pronouncement of his because his mind reverts him to the idea of you, to what would happen if he just gained the balls to ask you out.

Evidently, although asking you out and asking you to marry him are two completely different things, he’s a bit afraid that your answer will always be a hard no. It’s what you’ve been literally spelling out to him since the day he presented the idea, regardless of how he’s trying his best in swooning you or explaining how this is the perfect plan to help you gain an upper hand with your diagnosis.

“I’ll file a restraining order against you, I’m serious,” you say to him when he appears yet again outside the faculty room, waiting for you to gather your things and head home. You’re wearing a white button up shirt and pinstripe wide leg trousers, an outfit combination that he ogles at before he goes down to business.

“You wouldn’t.” He glares at you. He gestures for you to let him take your backpack, and despite what you said, you let him. “Also, what the fuck is in this thing? You’ll break your back if you keep using this.” He swings your backpack on one shoulder.

You laugh. “My laptop, its charger, a couple of notebooks, books, pens, then the outputs of my students.”

“Aren’t they supposed to submit virtually? What happened to Google Classroom?”

“I still use it, but sometimes I like to have their work printed out so I can write the comments better. How do you know Google Classroom?”

“I have a squadronmate whose kid uses it for class.”

“Ah.” You nod in understanding.

You two continue walking forward.

This has been your program for the past few days. Jungkook goes to the university you work at, he’ll wait outside, you’ll threaten him with something ridiculous, he’ll take your bag, he’ll offer to take you to dinner, you’ll decline, and then he’ll drive you home anyways. Before that routine ends, he’ll lean on your door frame and give you his best puppy eyes, asking you to marry him for the sake of your welfare, and you’ll scowl at him, insisting that you don’t need his help to survive.

“Dinner?” he asks, right on schedule.

You glance at him. “No. I want to go home and sleep for 12 hours.”

“Busy day?”

“Yep.”

“You know, if you marry me, you won’t have to work two jobs and overexert yourself.”

He doesn’t need to turn to you to know that you’re giving him a dirty look. “I won’t marry you, Jungkook.”

“Why not?”

“Because marriage doesn’t work that way.”

“It does. Billionaires do it all the time. The mafia does it too. It’s always been some kind of transaction.”

“Well, if I marry you, what do you get?”

“The assurance you’re taken care of.”

“That’s cheesy.”

You share a laugh and he grins.

“It’s true,” he says. “I’ll be fine as long as you are.”

He waits for you to quip back a reply, flickering his eyes to you when it takes longer than usual. Instead of the sneer he’s expecting, you appear to be flustered, an expression that is very recognizable for him who’s known you since forever—an expression that makes it too obvious for Jungkook that the crush you had on him that he thought has been long gone was still there. He’s been seeing it a lot lately, particularly when he’s uttering lines that sound flirtatious on purpose; he’s positive that you’ll threaten to kill him when you discover that he basks on the fact that he can still make you all flustered and cute, which encourages him to do and say anything that would elicit a reaction from you. Was it unethical to seduce you into marrying him? He might have to rethink that part too.

Reaching the parking lot, he unlocks the doors to his vehicle and places your bag inside the backseat. He watches you walk around the car, about to go to the passenger’s side, but then you wobble a bit and his attempt to get inside is instantly forgotten.

“Hey,” he strides to where you are, gazing at you as you now hold onto the hood, “you alright?”

You raise your chin up. “Kook, can you get my bag?”

Jungkook doesn’t need to be told twice. He’s swinging the door again and getting your bag from the other end of the backseat while you get on the passenger’s seat, keeping the door wide and placing your legs outside, your feet planted on the concrete.

“What do you need?” he asks, crouching in front of you and zipping the bag open.

“Glucometer.”

He halts. “What does that look like?”

“It’s in the yellow bag. There.” You point at it right when he rummages through a certain part.

He brings it out and you take it from his grasp. Your movements are sluggish but he can discern that you’re doing your best not to be too slow; he’d present to help but he knows that he might prolong what you’re doing due to his cluelessness, so he just observes, noting how you’re pricking your finger with a device and then pressing it lightly to the glucometer which shows that your blood sugar is low.

“Blue bag,” you mutter to him and he finds it faster than the last one.

It’s the insulin this time. You grab the unopened syringe, rip it out from its packet, insert it to the vial of insulin—then your hand shakes, preventing you from continuing.

“Let me do it,” he says.

You don’t fight him, you just slump against the seat as Jungkook picks up from where you left, and the moment he administers the insulin through your shoulder, a huge and long exhale escapes you.

“How are you feeling?” he whispers. He didn’t notice that he was holding his breath the entire duration of the scene.

Another sigh. “Better.”

“Does this happen a lot?”

You seem to hesitate. “Not a lot. Just when life gets a bit too hectic.”

“____—”

“Just take me home.” You don’t give him the chance to lecture you. “Please, Jungkook.”

Defeated, he nods. “Alright.”

“Thank you.”

He helps you position yourself properly on the passenger’s seat. “But we’re talking about this at your place.”

Before you can protest, he closes the door.

****

Lee Hyunwoo was the name of the guy that you brought home for Christmas Eve eight years ago. It was the first time that you did, and Jungkook hated how Hyunwoo was considerably handsome, intelligent, and kind—the exact kind of person he always imagined you deserved.

In the short time Hyunwoo spent with theirs and your family that night, everybody loved him and was already inviting him to the next gathering, all the while Jungkook avoided him at every cost, puzzled by this strong dislike he was feeling for your guest. He was annoyed at the manner in which Hyunwoo had an arm around your waist the entire evening, how you grinned up to him, eyes sparkling and all that shit. Hell, you used to look at him like that.

“Honey, can you get the mango float we have in our freezer?” Jungkook heard your mother tell you, and without thinking, he stood up from his chair and made a beeline to where you were, telling you he’d accompany you to your house.

“That’s fine,” you told him. “It’s literally next door.”

“Yeah, but it might be heavy.”

“It’s not.”

“Better safe than sorry.”

You rolled your eyes and agreed then, excusing yourself from Hyunwoo who was in an engaged conversation with Seowon. The pair were geeking out because of their mutual love for the MCU and the next film slated to be released the following year.

Upon arriving at your home, you dashed to the kitchen with Jungkook trudging behind you. He wasn’t sure what his next course of action should be now; all he wanted was some alone time with you, away from the presence of that college boyfriend of yours, but now that he had that, he couldn’t think of anything that he wanted to say or do. He wasn’t even sure why he was feeling a bit jealous—was it because of that saying? Wherein people are bound to want what they can’t have? Or was it that you only appreciate what you had when you’ve already lost it?

“How long have you and Hyunwoo been dating?” he asked, leaning against the counter as you pulled your freezer open.

“Four months, I think.”

“Four months? And you already brought him home?”

You snorted at his tone. “His family is in another country so I thought it’d be nice to invite him.”

“You must really like him then.”

“Yeah, but I’m not in love with him or anything.” You placed the mango float on the space beside Jungkook on the counter. “He’s nice, and he likes me too.”

“Does he treat you well?”

You flashed your eyes at him, amusement dancing in them. “What’s with that question?”

“What’s with it?”

“Nothing, it’s just that…” you trailed, a smirk etched on your face. “Wait a minute, are you… you can’t possibly—” Jungkook was widening his eyes, ready to deny your accusation once you questioned whether he was jealous of Hyunwoo or not— “are you pulling an overprotective brother skit on me, Kook?”

Fuck, thank God, he thought.

“I prefer ‘overprotective friend skit’,” he said.

“That doesn’t have a nice ring to it.”

“But I’m not your brother.”

“You don’t have to be, I’m just saying that you and Seowon have been acting similar since Hyunwoo and I arrived.”

“Nonsense. Seowon likes him.”

“Oh, so you don’t?”

He pressed his lips into a tight line.

“Did you just admit that you don’t like Hyunwoo?” you asked, chuckling. He was grateful that you didn’t seem to be offended by it.

“I didn’t say I didn’t like him.”

“Instead you implied it.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“You kinda did.”

He heard you laugh and he couldn’t help but allow himself to laugh as well.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized. “Maybe I’m just not used to you dating anyone. You are chronically single.”

“Can’t say you’re wrong.” You snorted and picked up from the mango float, marching back to his house and gesturing for him to follow you.

He did, no words spoken between the both of you once more. Though when you were entering their place again, with Jungkook holding the door open for you, he mentioned something he never reckoned he’d have the guts to mention out loud.

“When you open my gift,” he began, “don’t do it in front of Hyunwoo, okay?”

“Why not?” You weren’t paying attention to where you were going, intrigued by his warning.

“He might not like it. You’ll see.”

That night, at the comfort of your bedroom, Hyunwoo nowhere near but instead sleeping at the coach downstairs in your living room, you opened Jungkook’s gift and saw that it was a necklace with your birth flower as its pendant.

You smiled, rolling your eyes to yourself, and slept with that giddy look never leaving your face.

****

“Not so fast,” Jungkook grunts.

Did he think that you were going to be less difficult since he was helpful earlier? Yeah, he did. He likes to think that if it wasn’t for him, you would have taken longer in injecting yourself with insulin, so he at least wanted a thank you in the form of your willingness to have an adult conversation with him tonight. However, that clearly isn’t the case because when he walked you up to your apartment like he always did, you’re attempting to lock him out, shutting the door as fast as you can once you’re inside, thus trying to prevent him from initiating that talk he wanted the two of you to have.

“Seriously?” He successfully pries the door open and you scowl at him.

“Jungkook—”

“No, you don’t get to reason your way out of this. I’m done hearing you out. It’s your turn to listen to me.” He steps inside your apartment.

You groan, striding to the sofa and throwing your bag there. “You can’t force me to marry you.”

“Is marrying me so fucking bad that you can’t get over it for health insurance benefits that can really help you?” He demands, infuriated. 

“That’s not the issue.”

“Then what is?”

“You can get arrested!” you exclaim. “And so can I! Does that not freak you out?”

“We’ll only get arrested if we get caught.”

“I’m not willing to take the risk.”

“I’m not willing to see you die.”

You scoff out a laugh. “Who the fuck said anything about dying? I’m not dying.”

“You almost passed out on me. You almost—”

“It’s an error on my part, I admit.” You sigh. “When I get busy and preoccupied, sometimes I forget to check my sugar levels regularly throughout the day. I’m sorry.”

“And you expect to be convinced that you have everything handled?”

“God, I’m not a child. Stop treating me like I can’t do shit for myself.”

“Please, ___,” he approaches you with the most pleading expression he can muster, and he watches as your hard expression crumbles, “just accept my help. It’s really not a big deal—you won’t even see me often, so keeping up with the whole marriage ploy wouldn’t be difficult. We’ll divorce in two years, we can pretend we never got married after that.”

“You just don’t get it, don’t you?”

“What do I not get? If you think I don’t understand something, then explain it to me—”

“I can’t marry you,” you say. You do so like it’s final, like there’s no point in arguing with you because he can never change your stand on this. As he’s pleading with his eyes to urge you to agree, you’re communicating with your eyes in a similar way that’s wishing he would just drop this. “It’s wrong.”

His eyebrows furrow. “This isn’t the time to go on your high horse and decide what’s wrong and what’s not. It’s a fraudulent marriage—of course, it’ll be wrong to some degree.”

“No, I mean…” You turn away from him, rubbing your face in exhaustion. “It’d be wrong of me to marry you. I’m taking advantage of you if I do, and I don’t like that.”

Jungkook shakes his head, frustration worsening at the childlike excuse. Surely, you weren’t that naive, were you? “You’re not. I’m not doing this against my own will. Besides, we get extra pay just for being married. If it makes you feel better, I won’t split it with you.”

“That won’t make me feel better.”

“Then what will?”

You flop down on the coach and lean back, closing your eyes. He knows he’s being a pain in the ass but he can’t just stand here and do nothing. He thinks he’s already come too far in convincing you, he isn’t going to back out now. Every single day spent together, he can feel you warming up to the idea of marrying him for health insurance. Your connection and entirety of your relationship has been off the charts recently that it’ll be harder for him not to be assured that before he leaves for his job, you’ll be taken care off.

Jungkook goes to the spot beside you, sitting down. Your knees bump together, he keeps on gazing at you, waiting for you to focus on him; a minute passes and his gaze moves to your hand that’s laying on the small space between you.

Without overthinking, he stretches out and clasps it, allowing his fingers to play with yours that finally captures your attention. The moment he glances up, he sees that you’re staring at him and he doesn’t let go, he even smiles, a quiet promise that he’s always willing to listen to whatever you want to tell him.

You hesitantly smile back. “You know,” your eyes train back to your intertwined fingers, Jungkook reveling in the warmth of your skin, gaining more confidence in acting out his feelings, “there was a time wherein I would have said yes immediately if you asked me to marry you.”

He smirks, can’t deny how hearing that inflates his ego a bit although this route in the conversation isn’t where he expected to go. “What changed?”

“For one, I grew up.”

“Ouch.”

You laugh. Then you stay quiet for a while before speaking. “Can I confess something?”

That piques his interest. “Anything.”

“But you have to promise not to make fun of me.”

“That’s impossible.” He teases. “What is it?”

You stall, readjusting your position so that you can directly face him. Jungkook doesn’t let go of your hand, he keeps it in his grasp, his thumb rubbing along the expanse of your knuckles.

“I like you, Jungkook. I really really do,” you finally say and he blinks, startled.

It shouldn’t surprise him, considering that it’s been long established that he knew of your crush already, though he doesn’t seem to have anticipated for you to boldly admit it when all these years, it’s only been some kind of unspoken understanding that neither of you downright acknowledged.

You continue speaking. “In fact, I like you so much that maybe it developed into love at some point—I’m not sure. I’m at this stage of no longer being afraid of what I feel, I think? Most of the time, I just let it occur like it’s something so natural. Like it’s a feeling that I can never get away from? Like whatever I do, there’s no way to shake you.” You chuckle half-heartedly. “Though never in a million years would I have thought that I’d confess all of this. What for anyway? I don’t want you to be burdened with what my teenage heart couldn’t rub out.”

His mind is racing; hundred thoughts, hundred scenarios, hundred experiences he’s spent with you since the day you met. Jungkook never realized how much he needed you to say that you liked him—that maybe you even loved him—until he heard it from your very mouth that you did, causing every inhibition and doubt he had to vanish. Now, he only wants to engulf you in an embrace and shout Yes, I feel the same way! Sorry for being a fucking corward and not doing this first!

He would have done all of that in a flash if it didn’t appear that you still had something to say. Based on your rather constipated posture and the hand he’s holding that’s becoming clammy, he discerns that you’re just in the first part of what you wanted to admit.

“Actually, that’s also why I can’t let myself marry you,” you say. “I know it sounds ridiculous, but I don’t know… it feels really icky somehow. I feel like I’m holding you hostage, or that I’m tricking you because of an ulterior motive, or that I’m defying the laws of the universe by having the chance to marry you. I’m not sure. I just know that I don’t want to marry you if it means I’ll only get to do so because you think you’re doing me a huge favor. I don’t want to be your charity case, Kook—I deserve to be more than that, you know? I’m not traditional or whatever but if it’s not for love, I’m not keen on getting married.” You abruptly pull away from his clutch, embarrassment washing on your features by what you stated. “Plus, two years might not be that long but what happens when you meet someone and you like her? How can you explain that you’re only married to me because I need it for my medication? It’ll just be unnecessarily messy. I don’t want to hold you back from those kinds of things. I don’t want to be a hindrance.”

That’s his cue. That’s when he knows he’s supposed to kiss you and take your breath away, to admit that he’s certain that he has loved you since that one time when he was in the Naval Academy and although the training was hard as fuck, the thought of you gave him strength and he didn’t want to see anyone as much as he wanted to see you after—that when you and Seowon visited him, that familiar urge to have you alone was all he felt the entire time, solidifying the idea that perhaps he didn’t just see you as a friend.

“You’re unbelievably dense, ___,” he murmurs, smirking at the play of events, and you glance at him, expression showing disbelief that he’s somehow treating this matter lightly.

“What?”

“Do you honestly think I go around and offer marriage to every woman out there who can benefit from being a military spouse? Do you think I’m that generous? I’m not. I wouldn’t ask anyone to marry me for the same reason if they weren’t important to me—or if I didn’t like them. I’m not that much of a saint,” he adds. “I mean, I’m taking a two-week break to convince you to marry me. I’m spending time with you every single day. I’m driving for almost an hour and a half, enduring the traffic to get from my apartment to the university you work in to do that—and you think this is because I want to be charitable?”

Silence. Your forehead wrinkles. He thinks you’re still not getting the point.

“I’m in love with you, ____,” Jungkook says.

Your breath hitches in your throat. You’re opening your mouth, then closing it, then opening it again, then pressing it into a thin line. He thinks you look cute, being taken aback like this, and he’s wishing that he’s done this sooner so that the last five days of him chasing you around like a lost puppy was spent with talking more about what’s possibly waiting for yours and his relationship next.

“Are you serious?” you ask after what seems like forever. “Or are you just saying that because you’re that desperate to have me on board with the whole fraudulent marriage thing?”

“God—” He’s inching closer to you now, laughing, watching your lips twitch at his reaction— “I’m convinced that you were born into this earth to drive me fucking crazy.”

And just like that, he no longer restrains himself from kissing you.

It takes you a few good seconds before you will yourself to move. You can’t seem to process the reality of Jungkook admitting that he was in love with you and then taking the liberty to plant his lips on yours. You’re not complaining, of course, but you are a bit overwhelmed that it literally makes you freeze, unaware of what you’re supposed to do now that your fantasies are coming into life.

However, once you feel him angle his head to the side, doing so to deepen the kiss, your reflexes kick in and you’re kissing him back, encircling your arms around his neck and leaning towards him, Jungkook sighing in what appears to be relief. He grips your hips to support you as you try to straddle him, but your movements are so clumsy that you end up sprawling against his chest instead, perched on a leg of his that provides pleasure on the spot you need him the most. He chuckles at your lack of gracefulness, gliding his lips to your cheek and down to your jaw, nipping.

“This okay?” he whispers with a palm drifting to your bottom.

You nod and Jungkook’s mouth is back on yours in an instant. He squeezes your ass, takes his time in fondling with it, cheekily slapping whenever you get brave yourself and push your tongue past his lips, before he skims his hand lower to your thigh and signals for you to mount him. Upon being properly sat on his lap, you get an immediate feel of his hard length through his jeans, prompting your imagination to run wild and induce the filthiest things he can do to you if neither of you stops.

“Holy shit,” he curses, your kisses roaming to the base of his throat where you lap and suck.

It becomes a dirty pattern for a while. The both of you will take a brief pause from making out to remove a piece of clothing or kiss every other exposed skin there is: the cheek, the jaw, the neck, the collarbones, the shoulders. Then one of you hauls the other back for another passionate kiss, hands skating everywhere on your bodies, sounds of arousal echoing inside the room; you’re starting to get lightheaded but you’re positive it’s not because of your sugar levels running low.

“I hate that it took us so long to get to this point,” he mutters.

You grin. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. I’m the man—I should have confessed long ago.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“I don’t know. ‘Was afraid to lose you, I guess.” He draws his head back and admires your blissed out expression. “But then when Seowon told me you had diabetes, I panicked and thought that I might lose you either way.”

You go back to making out, Jungkook guiding your hips in grinding on his clothed length. It’s addictive—the intimate feel of him, how he’s not shy in making sure you know how much he’s craving to be as close to you as you are to him. You think you can spend the whole night just doing this and be okay with it.

“Fuck, Kook,” you groan against his mouth, a hand descending to his stomach and to his manhood, “you’re so… so fuckin’ hard.”

You’re palming him now, tracing the erection evident under his boxers.

He lets out a grunt. “Yeah, baby, I know.”

“Do you… do you want me—” You’re breathless, not able to continue whatever it is that you want to say.

He understands you just fine though. “No.” He shakes his head. “Don’t do anything.”

You’re not sure what Jungkook means by that. How are you supposed to do nothing when you want to do everything to him? You soon comprehend what he means when he guides you to lay down on the sofa, when his lips skim lower and lower, passing your breasts, giving them the attention they deserve, until he goes lower than that and discards your underwear, kissing you in between your legs.

It’s like he’s releasing all the pent up emotions he’s been keeping all these years. His tongue and fingers are relentless, his voice is telling you that he’s eager to coax an orgasm out of you, and as he lifts himself up to return to his previous position, face hovering yours, you’re positive that he’ll get everything he wants because without a doubt you’ll give him everything he wants from you too. Hell, if he uses this opportunity to ask you to marry him again, you might answer yes straight away, no longer bearing in mind the worries you expressed to him earlier.

Although did that even matter anymore? Jungkook said he loved you. He said you drove him crazy. You never thought you’d come to see the day he’d utter those words but here you are. The man of your dreams is kissing you, pleasing you, and looking damn enthusiastic as he does all of that.

“Last chance to stop me,” Jungkook teases. His eyes are glassy and you can feel his cock nudging on your thigh.

You giggle, bringing his head closer to press another long kiss on those pink and plump lips of his. “Please never stop.”

“Never?”

“Never.”

“I’m going to take you up on that.”

“Please do.”

After this night, you’re certain that you’ll never allow yourself to be with another man aside from Jungkook. At the back of your head, you always thought that you were his, regardless if that wasn’t true or that there was no real relationship to prove that—however, at this moment, as he thrusts in and out languidly, you unquestionably know that you’re his. You belong to him now and he belongs to you; he lets you know through his love-filled gaze, his passionate kisses, and the manner wherein he moans your name.

“I love you,” he says, like he’s still in deep longing for your touch and affection.

You hum, tangling your fingers through the strands of his hair. “I love you, Kook.” You stare at his eyes. “I can’t remember a time I didn’t.”

A boyish grin erupts on his features.

Time passes by quickly. In a few more of his kisses, of the intoxicating slam of his hips, of his seductive whimpers, you’re coming beneath him, Jungkook pulling out and jerking his length until he too comes, his seed landing on the base of your tummy. You have the nerve to giggle at that, grinning at him with low-lidded eyes, and Jungkook hastily wipes his cum off your skin, attacking you with another passionate kiss that leaves you breathless.

“There’s no way you’re not marrying me after this,” he murmurs.

You teasingly graze your teeth on his bottom lip. “I’ll think about it.”

He groans. “Don’t think about it. Just say yes.”

“At least let me sleep on it, Kook.”

“Fuck—fine.” He grabs your sides and pulls you flush against his body. “Guess I’ll have to keep on convincing you until you agree.”

****

“God, why is this so difficult?” Jungkook whines, keeping you in his embrace, head tucked between your cheek and shoulder.

The air is very humid and Jungkook’s in his naval aviator uniform, which doesn’t look cool in a sense that air is properly flowing through the material. He doesn’t care though, doesn’t care that it’s sticking to his skin as he refuses to let you go, not even when you complain playfully.

“Kook, I’m fucking sweaty.”

“I don’t care.”

You laugh. 

He’s leaving to return to his duty and you’re here with him outside the base before he enters, being with him until the last possible minute because that’s how much of a good wife you are.

Yes, you and Jungkook did get married. Three days ago in fact, at the city hall’s courtroom. Neither of you invited your parents; they didn’t know about the occasion and you refused to tell them, afraid that they may be critical about yours and his choices when they discover the true reason why you’re rushing to be wed. The only people that remained to be aware of it was Seowon and his girlfriend, Winnie, who served as the witnesses, which was fine by you. In your understanding, this was just for the papers and your health, and not the real deal yet to be celebrated lavishly.

“I’ll propose to you again after a couple of years,” Jungkook promised after the ceremony. “Let’s renew our vows and I’ll give you an amazing wedding.”

You would have told him that there was no need, but who were you kidding? You did want a proper wedding with Jungkook. The previous week didn’t even feel like you were newlyweds. Yes, the both of you compacted all of the dates you could have if one of you weren’t such a chicken in five days, and yes, though the honeymoon stage was experienced and practiced—it was only because you were a new couple who after years of hiding their feelings for one another, was now finally free to express it as much as they desired.

“Call me everyday?” you ask when he finally pulls back, Jungkook pecking your lips one more time.

“Definitely.” He smiles. “Visit me whenever possible?”

“Of course.” You kiss him too.

His smile transforms into a grin. “Take care of yourself, alright? Keep me updated all the time. No sugarcoating allowed.”

“Yes, Lieutenant.”

Rolling his eyes, he gives you another kiss and engulfs you in a tight hug, lifting you off the ground that causes you to giggle.

“Okay, pack it up, love birds!” Seowon shouts.

The two of you turn to your brother who’s leaning on his car, the vehicle that was used to transport the three of you today. You’re still in the middle of moving your belongings at Jungkook’s place and Seowon was kind enough to volunteer helping, always dubious that you could do stuff on your own. Despite your reluctance, you let him assist you, mostly because you’re trying to make a conscious effort in not upsetting him again.

Let’s just say that when the judge hailed you husband and wife at the civil wedding, Seowon wasn’t thrilled to see that the kiss shared between you and Jungkook wasn’t as fake as the supposed sham marriage, leading him to the conclusion that in the middle of Jungkook’s ruse of convincing you to be his wife, something must have happened that led to your approval and that rather 18+ rated kiss. Mostly though, he’s just offended that neither of you thought of telling him that you were an official couple before the wedding.

Jungkook unwillingly places you down.

“I think I need to go,” you say.

He nods with a sigh. “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too.”

“Call you tomorrow?”

“Yes.” You affectionately caress his cheek, bringing his face down for the very very very last kiss. 

He leans into it. “Fuck, I don’t want to leave.”

“Seriously—hurry up!” Seowon shouts and you pull back.

“I will kill him,” you tell Jungkook.

“He’s your brother,” he says. “And now, my brother-in-law, so I can’t let you do that.”

“That might be your very first red flag, Jungkook, insinuating that you’re choosing my brother over me.” You cross your arms. “Tell me, if the both of us were drowning, would you save me or Seowon?”

“You,” he answers without missing a beat.

You narrow your eyes. “Is that the truth?”

“Of course. Seowon would probably undrown himself anyway and you’re shit at swimming. It’s an easy choice.”

You punch him hard on the shoulder and he feigns hurt, snickering. “For the record, I don’t think anyone can ‘undrown’ themselves—but fine, you pass the test.”

Jungkook faces Seowon’s direction and does a final salute, your brother returning it swiftly, and just like that, you and him share your last farewells. You watch as he goes through the entrance of the base and sends you a wave of goodbye; you weakly copy the gesture and stand there for a few seconds, just watching him fade from your view the further he trudges inside. You don’t think saying goodbye to him ever felt this heavy, and you blame it on the fact that after all this is the first time you’re saying goodbye to him with the assurance that he loves you too—and that alone weighs millions.

You spin on your heel and go to Seowon who’s already in the driver’s seat. As soon as you get in and wear your seat belt, he’s giving you a dirty look.

“What?” you ask.

“Please never do that in front of me again.”

His statement makes you smirk. “Why? Didn’t you want this?”

“Want what?”

“Me and Jungkook to be together.”

“When on earth did I say that?”

“You previously admitted that you were lowkey playing cupid by suggesting that Jungkook marry me for health insurance.”

A short pause. “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I have to watch you two reenact a porno every fucking time.”

“We’re not—”

“You are. Don’t deny it.” He grumbles. “God, every time I see you two, it’s like I’m Ross from that one Friends episode where he accidentally sees Monica and Chandler doing it from the window of his apartment.”

“Yeah, I remember that.” You laugh. “In my defense, you haven’t seen me and Jungkook actually do the deed so—”

“Wait, so the two of you have?”

Your expression drops. His tone is approaching older brother protectiveness territory and you’re quick to attempt diffusing the situation. “I will not dive into that. All I’m going to say is that I’m a grown adult and so is Jungkook.”

He grimaces before starting the engine. “Yeah, never dive into that. I don’t need to hear the details.”

You share a laugh and then silence fills the car.

You press your lips together, looking at him while he backs out from the parking spot. “Hey, thanks, by the way. For driving today, and for offering to help me later, and maybe for also never minding your own business.”

You recall how Seowon was the one who couldn’t stop worrying about you and finding a solution when you told your family that you had type 1 diabetes. Your parents were concerned, they pestered you for months to force you to accept financial assistance from them, but they gave up soon after. Seowon though? He never did. He persisted through every outburst you had; he tolerated your bitchiness and your dirty looks all the time. Out of everyone in your life, you always felt like regardless of how stubborn and prideful you could be, Seowon was worse—in the best way possible.

A crooked smile illuminates his face. “You’re my kid sister. It’s my job to never let you experience peace in your whole life.”

You scoff. “Well, you’re damn great at what you do.”

When you reach Jungkook’s apartment, unloading the boxes and arranging your stuff to its designated places, your heart swells in happiness as the reality sinks in that your life is heading in the right direction after months of feeling hopeless. It drives you to be more thankful to the little things, to the people who were always by your side, to your previous circumstance that although wasn’t ideal was still manageable. A lot don’t get to have that kind of privilege and you promise yourself that you’ll make an effort to find more things to be grateful about from this day forward.

“Oh, I forgot to mention,” Seowon approaches in the middle of you arranging your books on Jungkook’s near to empty shelf, “Winnie wanted to give you this. She would have handed it over herself but she’s going to be busy for the next few days.”

You take the frame from his hand and see that it’s the picture Winnie took of you and Jungkook after the ceremony. It’s in the restaurant that you ate at to celebrate the civil wedding. Jungkook was grinning at you with an arm around on the backrest of your chair, you were leaning towards him, smiling at the camera—and the absolute selling point of why this was the best picture ever taken was because of how cake icing was scattered on your faces, places on spots in an artistic manner like it was planted there on purpose for the picture and not because the both of you were being silly that instance.

You think it showcases your relationship with Jungkook marvelously. It’s playful, it’s sweet, and most of all, it demonstrates how you two are clearly great friends.

“This is so beautiful, Seowon,” you say.

You immediately send Winnie a heartfelt thank you message for the gift and continue to take a photo of the frame, sending it to Jungkook as well.

Once you hit send, you type out a message to accompany it.

You: look how cute we look 🥹

You’re certain it’ll take hours before he replies so you keep your phone again, going back to staring at the picture which is now placed on one of the shelves. It’s the sole picture frame you have with Jungkook. In fact, it’s the only picture that Jungkook has in his apartment, and you like to think that this might be the mark of the new beginning you’ll have with him. Even though your relationship wouldn’t be traditionally explored given his occupation and how he’s most likely going to be away a lot, you don’t mind.

If there’s one thing you really believe in, it’s that waiting for Jungkook—whether consciously or unconsciously—always brings out the best outcomes.

thank you for reading! as i live for positive reinforcement, feedback is always appreciated ♡

[pathologicalreid]

what goes bump in the night | s.r.

in which Spencer's struggling with violent nightmares after prison, and you find yourself on the receiving end of his tossing and turning

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst content warnings: reader gets whapped in the face. don't like don't read, please. blood, prison arc, black eye, a lot of guilt. therapy. word count: 1.89k a/n: (this wasn't a request but shout out to the anon who told me i had to repost this after i deleted it) this is some dark shit but i have to admit i do think about the possibility a lot. take care while reading my loves.

Several years in the BAU had inadvertently trained you to wake up at any slight movement or noise. While some might call it paranoia, you considered it to be a finely tuned skill.

Spencer didn’t sleep talk before prison, and even now, he only mumbled in his sleep when he was having a nightmare. Normally, he didn’t move, he just tossed his head around and begged for whoever he was seeing in his nightmare to just hold on. Tonight was different, he sounded like he was pleading for someone to leave him alone, and he was thrashing more than usual.

You knew there was a risk of waking him, but you reached out and gently shook his shoulder anyway. “Spence,” you whispered, not wanting to hurtle him out of his darkened dreamscape.

There was no response. No sign of him coming even close to waking up.

His thrashing became worse, and his mumbling became even less intelligible like something was covering his mouth in his dream. Reaching out from your side of the bed, you tried to grab his hand, hoping it would be something that he could use to ground himself. Gripping his hand, you said his name again, more forcefully this time.

The pain didn’t even register at first. The first thing you recognized was the sensation of having something stuck in your eye, a small twinge in the outer corner that sent your hands flying to the side of your face.

Oh.

With your uninjured eye, you looked up to see Spencer, awake. Breathing heavy, sure, but awake. Very slowly, his breathing slowed, but he had seemingly forgotten that he was sharing a bed with you until you felt liquid trickling from your nose and scrambled to the bathroom before you got blood all over the sheets.

His wide eyes followed your shadow through the bedroom, putting the convoluted puzzle pieces together as he came out from under his nightmare-induced fugue state only to find a different type of panic. You faintly heard him curse and rustle the sheets as you shut the bathroom door harder than you intended.

You looked at yourself in the mirror, your right eye was tearing up as a result of the impact, and your nose was trickling blood down your face. Grabbing a wad of tissues from the box on the counter, you pressed them to your nose, blinking the tears from your eyes to the sound of your heart beating through your chest.

Spencer knocked on the bathroom door, followed by a larger thud that you assumed was him leaning his head against the door. “Can I come in?”

You tried not to sniff, hating the sensation of your nose being covered, you responded, “It’s your bathroom.” Your tone was far too blasé, and Spencer was going to see through it immediately.

“That’s not what I asked,” he told you, a slight tone of desperation ringing through. You knew what he wanted to know; he was asking if you were comfortable with him being in the same room as you – if you’d feel safe with him in the same room as you.

Leaning your head back, you took as deep of a breath as your body would physically allow you before you answered, “Yeah, you can come in.”

Before you had even finished speaking, Spencer had opened the door to the bathroom, letting the light stream into the bedroom, “Fuck,” he murmured when he saw you, “Hey, don’t lean your head back. You don’t want the blood to run down your throat.”

“Okay,” your voice quavered, watching him lift his hands like he wanted to guide your head down until he realized he didn’t know what to do with his hands – he couldn’t bring himself to touch you. Leaning over the sink, you let coagulated blood fall from your mouth, watching it go down the drain before you looked up at Spencer, who watched on in horror at the mess he had created. “Can you grab more tissues?” You asked him, giving him a job to busy his idle hands.

Instantly, Spencer grabbed a handful of tissues and held them out for you, within your range of motion. Still leaning over the sink, you took the new tissues and held them to your nose, haphazardly dropping the soiled tissue in the basin beneath you. “I don’t… What-“

Cutting him off, you spoke, “Do you still have those ice packs? The first aid ones from last year,” you made a new request, giving him a job to perform so that he wouldn’t apologize to you. He’d apologize until he was blue in the face, but you still wouldn’t know how to respond.

He nodded, crouching in front of one of the cabinets and filtering through a first aid kit, hoping to produce a disposable ice pack for you to place near your eye. With the timidness of a newborn foal, Spencer set the plastic on the counter next to you.

Your boyfriend watched as you carefully peeled the tissues from your face, checking to see if the bleeding had stopped, only to quickly replace the tissue when you noticed a trickle of fresh blood making its way down your philtrum. “Aren’t you supposed to pinch it or something?”

“Yes, you can pinch the bridge of your nose to staunch the bleeding,” Spencer said, grabbing your discarded Kleenex and putting them in the garbage bin. He watched intently as you reached up your free hand to pinch your nose, “Does… does it hurt?”

Giving him a quick shake of the head, you met his eyes through the mirror, “I don’t think it’s broken,” you told him, avoiding answering most of his question.

He loosed a sigh of relief, “Thank god,” he murmured, keeping an eye on you as you wondered how terrified he must have been to invoke the name of a deity he didn’t believe in.

Once you were finally able to drop the last of the tissues in the sink, you were faced with an even worse reality. There was no way of escaping the black eye that you already had forming, the tender skin would be further marred with time. “I think it looks worse than it actually is,” you offered meekly, reaching to your side and grabbing the ice pack off of the counter. You popped the center of it before wrapping it in a towel that Spencer had set out for you.

Holding in a hiss as the towel touched your face, you allowed your eyes to wander across the rest of your body. Your shirt had drips of blood on it, but the larger issue was red encrusted all over your face. With the urgency of a sloth, Spencer took a different towel from the drawer and ran it under the tap, wringing it out before holding it up, “May I?”

“Yeah,” you breathed, thankful for your newly cleared airway as you extended your neck, giving him the access he needed to wipe the blood from your chin and neck. “Spence-“

“I’m so sorry,” he interjected, his movements faltering as he let his hand drop to your shoulder.

You shook your head, crinkling the icepack in your hand, you blinked rapidly, hoping to clear your vision. “It’s okay, I shouldn’t have grabbed you,” you told him, it was the truth. He had obviously been having a violent nightmare, and you grabbing him had likely triggered a fight or flight response.

Spencer sighed dejectedly, “I burst a blood vessel in your eye. I’m so…” his voice trailed off in the middle of his sentence, leaving you unsure whether he was going to apologize again or go off on a self-deprecating tirade. “I hit you,” he breathed, abruptly yanking his hands away from you, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have touched you.” Setting the washcloth on the counter, he put his hands up in surrender and stepped away from you.  

Leaning against the bathroom counter, you wished for an inkling – anything you could say to him that would prevent his auto-villainization. “I wish you wouldn’t say it like that. Saying you hit me sounds so…”

“Wrong? That’s because it is,” he said harshly, and you could almost see the storm of self-loathing that was brewing in his mind.

Shaking your head, you adjusted your grip on the icepack before looking up at him, “but it makes it sound like it was intentional. You didn’t hit me, you… thwapped me.”

Spencer loosed a shaky sigh, “I’m not so sure that’s better.”

“Would you prefer bonked?” You proposed, looking at him and hoping for a small smile, but being disappointed when you were met with the same haunted expression. “It was an accident,” you insisted, reaching out your unoccupied hand and taking his hand in yours, “I am fine.”

He scoffed dismissively, “I should have had a better handle on myself.”

You frowned, “You were asleep, Spence. You couldn’t have had a better handle on yourself. It wasn’t on purpose, and you’re taking care of me now,” you told him softly.

“But you’re scared of it happening again,” he challenged you.

When he had come home, you knew he had been changed. Not necessarily for the better or for worse, but he was most certainly changed. You had heard everything in bits and pieces, what had happened in Millburn, what had happened with Cat, but nothing had prepared you for the harshness of your new reality. He was capable of harming others, but that didn’t mean you thought he’d hurt you again. “You’re disappointed in yourself, but you don’t believe you get to feel that way. You’re projecting onto me,” you told him, taking your hand back.

Spencer flinched back, “Don’t profile me.”

“You, Spencer Reid, would never knowingly lay a hand on me,” you insisted, you believed it. You believed it even if he didn’t believe it himself.

The two of you sat in an angst-filled silence before he stood up straight, gently starting to usher you into the bedroom. Handing you a t-shirt from your drawer to change into, you could see his internal struggle as he grabbed a pillow from the bed and made his way toward the door.

Despondently, your shoulders slumped forward, “Where are you going?” You asked softly, hating to watch him leave your shared bedroom over this.

“I’m sleeping on the couch. I’m gonna… I’ll try to set up a meeting with my therapist in the morning. I just…” his voice trailed off as he looked at you with wide, sad eyes, “You’re okay?”

Your heart ached at his voice as you nodded, opening your arms for him and letting out a sigh of relief when he returned to you for a hug. Reaching your free hand behind him, you rubbed his back comfortingly, “We’re going to make it through this, mark my words.”

He nodded in affirmation as he pulled away, “For my own peace of mind, I’ll sleep on the couch for a while.”

You accepted it, knowing that he needed to deal with this in his own way, he closed the door behind him, effectively leaving you alone. Laying back on the pillows with your icepack still clutched to your face, you sighed, wondering how long it had been since your boyfriend felt any semblance of peace of mind.

[seventeenpins]

new rules

pairing: ex!Worst!Logan Howlett x f!reader word count: 2.7k summary: You've been broken up for long enough. It shouldn't be this hard to stay away. content/warnings: smut, angst, Logan's a disaster alcoholic, suicidal ideation, unhealthy relationships, big dick a/n: I didn't expect the Logan bug to bite me, but here I am, horny for this old man, writing a songfic in the year of our lord two thousand twenty four. Dua Lipa's "New Rules" came on shuffle and I needed to make it about our big boy. Thank you to the loml @ozarkthedog for being the best human alive and also for hyping me up, reading it thru, and telling me "it made me actually want to try to fix him" 😅

You’re in your pajamas, toothbrush in hand and moisturizer shining on your face, when the screen of your phone lights up. You wince when you see the contact name.

DO NOT PICK UP

You watch as it rings out, and you exhale when the comfort of the black screen returns.

And then it lights up again.

Just ignore it. Just ignore it.

As you’re spitting your toothpaste into the sink, the screen lights up again, DO NOT PICK UP flashing across.

It’s a bad idea. It’s always a bad idea. 

But as it lights up a fourth time, you hit accept. As you bring the phone to your ear, you already know what you’re going to say; you need to stop calling like this; have you been drinking?; this isn’t going to happen again–

And then you hear his voice. It’s just a single word, and comes out more as a croak than anything else.

“Hi, baby-”

Just like the first time. The third. The five hundredth. It makes you fucking melt, makes your body heat and your stomach flip.

“Hi Logan.”

—

“It’s been too long, sweetheart-” 

“Yeah, well-” you sigh. You know how this always goes. “I told you not to call.”

“But you answered.” 

Even over the line he sounds smug. You wish you could punch him, god, if only. But you knew from past experience that his adamantium bones and entirely unfair regenerative powers would leave him perfectly unblemished, while you nursed a broken hand.

“Sooo-,” you venture, “Is there something you need?”

It was better to play clueless, you reasoned; You weren’t gonna jump the gun. You would make him spell it out.

"Just you, hon,” his voice is low and dangerous and you think you might really hate him this time.

“You know it’s nearly midnight, don’t you? Are you ever gonna call me when you’re sober?”

You hear a noncommittal grunt on the other end.

“What do you want, Logan?”

He takes a deep breath.

“Can I come over? I’ve just been missing you. Been a rough day.”

“No.”

“Please, baby? I need you. Please?”

You close your eyes and exhale. Ten calls ago, you might have tried to hide the frustration, but you’re well beyond that now.

It’s always a bad idea. Always makes you remember the bits of him you miss desperately. Your nights together. How you still fucking love him.

“Can take care of you, princess-“ he pleads.

“I hate when you call me that. And no, you can’t. You can’t even take care of yourself, Howlett.”

He huffs a laugh. “Been doin’ alright a couple hundred years. Keepin’ myself alive.”

You don’t want to say the question neither of you will acknowledge.

Is this really living?

“Fine. You can come over.”

“I’ll be there in five.”

“Motherfucker-! Have you been on your way this whole time, Lo?”

With a snort, he ends the call.

He’s on you before you can even get the door closed behind you. His hands are cradling your head as he kisses you deeply. You were right; he tastes like cheap whiskey. And cigarettes, you realize. Fucking cigarettes. And then you remember– he’s all but abandoned his cigars, as though the pain of losing a vice was part of his penance. 

With an awkward foot you try to hook the bridge of your foot along the edge of the door, pull at it, but instead of closing it you just overbalance, tumbling further into him.

He catches you as if it was nothing, as if he were so innately steady he’d always be there to break your fall.

When he has you back on your feet, he gets right back to it, tearing at your clothing and his, pulling your top over your head, fumbling with the drawstring of your bottoms. He cups your breasts, pinching and teasing, and walks you backwards till the backs of your knees hit the foot of your bed and you tumble. 

Logan tumbles with you, his hold on you never ceasing, and now you can feel how hard he is against you.

It sends a shiver down your spine.

You’ve missed this. Fuck you’ve missed this. What kind of self-destructive dumbass judgment were you letting rule you? 

You need to gain some control back.

“Condom,” you tell him. 

He rolls his eyes.

“I’m not joking, Logan. Should still be in the top drawer.”

He exhales with a chuckle, but pulls his beater over his head and lets you get an eyeful of his toned chest before leaning over and sliding the drawer open.

Then, he rummages around, pulling back with a shit-eating grin. 

In his hand is a roll of condoms, classic fit.

“You got a little boyfriend?” he asks, and you feel your face heat.

“Shut the fuck up, Logan.”

“Now I’m not seeing the Magnum’s in here. You sure you still have them? Or are you so busy fucking dumbass boys with little pricks that you can’t even bother to pick up the phone?”

“The condoms are just in case– better to be prepared– and besides it’s none of your fucking business if I’m sleeping with anyone else!”

“You know I can’t get STIs, right?”

You do know. You remember that first conversation years ago. You grit your teeth.

“And if you’re so worried,” he continues, “I’ll buy you Plan B.”

“Move,” you tell him, and he scoots back so you can look in the drawer yourself. Much to your chagrin, he’s right. Not a single gold packet in sight.

You groan, and he laughs.

You should tell him no. Should tell him that if he wants to fuck you, he needs to go out and get some. Because it’s not even the risk of any sort of transmission, or even the risk of pregnancy that gives you pause. It’s the intimacy. The way you can hardly bear it when you can feel him dripping out of you. The love you still have for him, even after everything. 

The way you know he still needs you, too. More than you need him. But after everything he’s done, everything he’s been through, everything he’s lost– you can’t bear to be another thing he loses, not fully.

But now he’s straddling you, scooting you backwards towards the head of the bed. His cock presses heavy against your thigh, and you’re so overwhelmed by the way he’s pressing kisses along your jaw and nibbling behind your ear, you barely notice as he lifts your hips to pull your panties down. His nails scrape down your back and the angry scratches start to bloom with heat. 

You don’t realize you’re both fully naked until you feel the heat from him press against you, the slick of his weeping cockhead dragging a trail just below your navel, down down down-

He strokes himself twice and lines himself up, pressing against your opening. You wait for the feeling, for the way he always slams inside you, but he surprises you. Presses the tip in and rocks himself gently, easing you open.

After a moment (and hardly a single inch) he pulls out and sits up.

For a gut-wrenching second, you think he’s changed his mind, and how fucking dare him? He’s not the one who gets to back out of this. Fuck.

But then his cock is replaced with his hand, and he pumps himself with his left, while pressing inside of you with his right, scissoring his fingers open, pulling whine and moan and gasp out of you, coaxing you along with his filthy mouth the whole way.

“Jesus Christ,” he sighs, letting out a groan when you squirm against him, “You’re tight as the first time I fucked you. Clearly no one’s been takin’ care of this pussy, huh?”

Two fingers become three, and you’re overwhelmed with sensation, pleasure taking over any rational thought.

“That’s it, honey, open up for me. Such a shame no one’s been fuckin’ you right. Would make you feel good every damn day if you’d let me.”

He rubs against your clit in unyielding circles and pulls you right to the edge. You feel yourself dripping, thighs trembling, and tears rolling down your face, but just as you’re about to cum he stops. He guides your arms upwards and pins you down by the wrists with one rough hand and leans over, caging you against the bed. In a second beat, he knocks your legs wide, baring you fully, and he presses himself in. You’re beyond slick and the glide is exquisite. The feeling of his bare cock pressing into you makes you shudder with arousal. The wiry hairs at the base of his cock grind against you, making you shake. 

He fucks you deep and slow. The drag is exquisite. He pulls almost the whole way out, before rocking back in again, his foreskin adding to the delicious glide. With every thrust he’s burying himself so deeply you’d swear you could feel him in your belly.

“You’re openin’ up so nice, takin’ it so good,” he growls, and you feel a thrill of pleasure bloom through your body at the praise. “Been missin’ this. Miss how soft you feel around me. Have you been missin’ your old man, too?”

You don’t even register he’s asked a question till his palm is swatting your jaw. It’s not painful, it doesn’t even sting. And it does exactly what he’d hoped; it refocuses you on him.

“Wha- What?” you ask, coming back to him, whilst feeling your peak build and build and build-

“Have you been missin’ your old man, princess? 

“Fuck you, Logan.”

“Use your words.”

“Yes-”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes I’ve been missing you. Stop looking at me like that, Lo. C’mon now, fuck me like you mean it.”

You can’t deal with him being sincere right now. You need it rough and you need it mean.

It takes him a moment to pull himself away but then he does, obliging as if he can read your thoughts. He pulls out, leans back, hooks your legs over his shoulders, and makes you moan as he folds you in half. He’s pressing so much deeper now than he had only a moment ago. Any gentleness that had been there disappears immediately.

He’s panting, letting out heavy grunts as he slams into you and sweat drips down his temple. 

As he fucks you, he drives into you cruelly but you match each thrust. Every time he knocks you back, you press against him harder and heavier. Make sure it hurts, for both of you.

He’s never been a selfish lover and makes you scream on his cock, cumming three times in rapid succession, each peak that little bit higher. Each peak is a little bit harder. 

You’re boneless and spent. When he cums inside you, his claws shoot out, angrily splintering existing notches on your headboard. Blood trickles down between his knuckles. One drop lands on your lips, the perfect kiss from this mess of a man. Another drop lands on your new linen pillowcase.

At least you got those tide pens. 

You want to tell him off about the headboard–the splintered edges are ugly and ragged. But the fact you hadn’t gotten a new headboard is kind of on you. It may as well be an invitation.

You add a note to your shopping list. Plan B.

—-

You wake up alone in a dark room. The first thing you see is your bedside alarm clock, red blinking numbers telling you it’s 3:12 AM. Then, you hear a rustling in your living room.

You step out to investigate, bleary-eyed, to find Logan silhouetted in front of your liquor cabinet, bottle of amber liquid in hand. He raises the bottle and takes a swig.

Back to this-

"Go home, Logan.” You tell him, and he startles at your voice.

"Baby- I been havin’ bad dreams-” 

You cut him off. "I’ll call you a cab. You’re not staying here, trying to drink yourself to death on my sofa-”

"Sweetheart,” he cuts in, “You know it never sticks-“ 

He says it with a grin like it means nothing, and it’s mean. Makes your stomach flip.

This is the closest either of you had ever gotten to the depths of it all. You’d both been pretending for so long.

You leave the room.

A minute later, you’re back, and Logan has emptied the bottle.

"Get dressed.” You toss his shirt at him. It smacks him in the face and falls unceremoniously to the floor. “Cab’s on its way. You owe me for the whiskey.”

He nods. His movement is loose, and you can see the booze is finally affecting him. More than just making him gutsy, it’s making him sloppy. Every movement is sluggish as he redresses.

"You wanna know why?” He asks, and it comes out slurred.

You ignore him. “I’ll walk you down. Get home safe, okay?”

He nods again. Looks like he’s trying to put on a show to prove just how sincere he is.

You kick his shoes towards him, and help him with his jacket when he struggles.

A horn honks outside, and you both look to the window. When you turn your head back, though, he’s only inches away from you, whiskey-breath across your cheek, and a wearier frown than he’s ever let you see before.

"When I drink I don’t dream-,“ he tells you, “Claws don’t come out.”

Then he kisses you on the cheek, turns on his heel with an unsteady sway, and leaves your home.

You struggle for hours to fall back asleep, the bed suddenly much too big.

You ignore his calls for a week. They come through later and later. Nine PM, ten. Midnight. Two.

And then one night you get a text. 

He’s rarely one for texting, so to see the notification makes your heart speed up and your stomach flip.

DO NOT PICK UP - Attachment: 1 Video

With a single, hesitant tap, you open it.

You’re not sure what you expected. Something dramatic, maybe? Something miserable? You hope to god he’s not figured out some way to make himself an adamantium bullet. It’s a fear that’s bounced around in your head for a while now, but you’d never ask just in case he hasn’t thought of it yet himself.

Whatever it is, though, it has to be something that will make your heart ache and your head spin and–

It’s anticlimactic. Kind of.

It’s just a video of him, phone angled to show him in his steamed-up mirror.

There are dark shadows beneath his red-rimmed eyes, but besides that, he looks as perfect as ever. You can’t see below his hips, but you know Logan and you know he’s fully naked. His body hair is slick, his skin glowing from being freshly showered.

This fucking asshole knows exactly how to get you.

You hit play. 

At first, you can barely tell it’s a video. And then you see the way his arm is moving. He’s holding his phone with one hand, his other casually stroking himself just below the frame of the video.

“You gonna stop ignoring me?” he asks, his voice a throaty purr. “Quit playing games. Get your ass over here and let me take care of you.”

AND, you realize with a twinge, you text with him so rarely, you never turned off read receipts.

Three dots appear and you know that he knows you’ve seen it. 

A moment later, the text comes through.

“Ready for you, princess.”

God, if only it would take more than that.

As if overtaken by a horny ghost, you’re already slipping your panties off and putting on your favorite skirt. 

You’re at his house an hour later. 

You let him guide you. Taste you. Fuck you. Fight with you. 

You let him devour you, and let yourself fall in with him, in with the guilt and the anger and the hate and self-pity.

And fuck, it’s the love, too. It never went away.

[acid-ixx]

to you, my greatest passion (soft yandere! batfam x traumatized! reader oneshot)

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

tw: allusions to stockholm syndrome, flawed relationship (they have no concept of boundaries) and mild descriptions of injuries and torture (not by the batfam). read until the end for an author's note. happy 4k followers to me :)) uh leave comments if u like this type of analysis and want to see more. i had no direction for writing this. please don't let this flop huhu i might delete this since i don't like it

as much as i love my angst, we all need something soft at times, and moments with yan!batfam with a reader who is absolutely fucking broken from their past that the mere implication that someone could love them is enough to let them melt into whoever's chest they lay upon that night.

just, hurt/comfort. one that heals the soul in its overly possessive embrace. the same way chapped lips peck softly on your cheeks, muscled arms caress your fragile, shivering body, and legs tangle upon yours in a cacophony of warm, cozy blankets.

where as the longer time passes in the manor, the more you learn to love. to let go of the painful memories your tormenters left you. to allow past scars to heal into a mere visage of what once was streaks coated in blood. your family acts as your new abductors, yes, but how could you hold your freedom against them when it is them that comfort you from drowning through the deepest depths of your nightmares?

nightmares of the past, of the knives that break through your already gashed skin, or the ropes that burn through bruises and laceration— every time you wake up crying, with tears running down your cheeks and a pained cry; a recollection of the torture you were subject to, it is them that come running to your room not a moment after.

it's bruce's tall, domineering form that crumbles into soft, snug pillows for you. your father arms that punches criminals into prison become the shoulder you lean on. calloused fingers rub your cheeks, wiping away your tears, holding your face in his palms like you're the most fragile thing on earth— and you are. every time he looks at your dampened eyes and sniffling nose, he gets reminded of how lonely he was as a child, who lost his parent too young to the cruelty of the world, of gotham and her unyielding coldness. and when he reminisces, he begins to cage you in his arms a tad bit tighter, begins to comfort you longer and softer than he has ever done with anyone else, as if he is reassuring himself. it is with you that his vulnerability, that fear of loss becomes all too stronger. and every time you cry a bit longer, your hold on his sleeves becoming unyielding, does bruce become crueler in his pursuit of fighting crime, a lesson to himself that the people he punishes are those with hands capable enough to harm you, his precious, his pearl that glints throughout the moonlight.

whenever your father is unavailable, it's dick who runs to you, with all the intention to provide you comfort. it's him who calls you his baby bird, as he reassures you that you're no burden in his eyes every time you scream in terror as your sleep. it's him who loves to drown you in his affection, always near, always close, never far and never too much. physically, he's the most doting to a fault. tender, yet tight were his hugs. his kisses to your cheeks and your forehead always linger, as if hesitant to release itself from its rightful place. it's a testiment to how much he loves you, how he's incapable of separating himself from you. god, he loves you so much he wishes he'd just melt right into your skin, so that you actually finally realize how you're the most important thing in the world to him. you, his baby bird. if he had met you sooner, quite earlier, right after his parent's have died, then maybe he could've managed his anger better, could've learned to cope with you through the battles you both fought. it's with you that dick feel unbearably euphoric, ready to spill his love to the point where tears consume his eyes and his head laid on your chest refuses to detach itself.

jason isn't familiar with what warmth feels like, not anymore. but when he sees your hapless state, he sees a reflection of himself in that abandoned warehouse. broken, defiled, hurt. with nothing to comfort you from the cold other than the ropes that burn through your skin and the adrenaline that runs through your veins. he forgots what solace feels like, what it means, but through your shared trauma does jason learn. he learns to talk to you, with you, learns to pinpoint each and every emotion he felt at the time, what you felt inside that putrid basement. he learns to manage his grief because he doesn't want to anger himself looking at you, at just how much justice can only serve so many. the longer you talk to jason, the more he becomes softer, yet hungrier. he learns how to hold you in a way a brother learns to hold his baby sibling for the first time when conceived. he relearns the warmth he felt, like when he was finally able to be good enough to be the successor to the title of robin, when he felt you drool on his chest when you trusted him enough to sleep in his room. yet this time that feeling was accompanied with that ominous, distracting essence. one that makes jason's knuckles crack and have him prepare his guns, as he discovers that you can never truly erase the past. and even though it might take years for him to be your ideal brother, he could at least be your sole protector.

then there's tim, who never truly had the opportunity to develop that deeper sense of love he wanted to feel until he was officially adopted into the wayne family right after his parents' death. don't get him wrong, he loves his mom and dad, and so does he loves his current family— but it's obsession that drives him nonetheless. the need to prove himself, to gather information about everyone to know who they truly are; beyond that there's nothing more than shallowness, a neverending hole he can't satisfy. but with you? oh god, you. to tim, you're his everything. you devour his being whole. with you, there's always something new. the need to track every single thing about you leads him into this cycle of want and need that coagulates into desire, into drive. every time you smile, or laugh, or frown, he gains newer intel about you, one he loops into the deepest crevices of his brain at a constant, you are his constant. but staying right behind you can only do so much. and as he sits right beside you in bed, awkwardly comforting you through the ways he mirrored off from his brothers: a sloppy kiss to your knuckles, a joke cracked here and there, and wiping your eyes and nose with his sleeves; tim learns that stalking can only do so much. he learns what it feels like to be needed for emotional connection and nothing else and that only further motivates him to be perfect for you, and to be with you, his sibling, more often than to simply live right under your nose.

and damian, your baby brother, who's unsurprisingly the one who sleeps in your room, or has you sleep in his room, the most. damian tells himself he's incapable of love, of showing it or reciprocating it. but for you, he tries, and like jason, he learns. he discovers just how depraved both of you are when it comes to love. it enlightens you both and it makes damian feel a deeper sense of connection with you than anyone else. with you, he feels like a child: vulnerable, yet uncaring and free, like the true meaning of being a robin, one the soars through the skies with no grandfather or mother or league to watch your every step as their successor. all the times you cry, he silently sobs with you, holding your cheeks down to his level with scarred palms. silent, yet comforting, he'd allow his smaller form to simply become your teddy bear whilst he whispers consolations. about how strong his older sibling is, how precious you are for being comfortable with him to speak of your problems, how you're everything to damian just as he wishes to be the world for you. it makes you think you're more immature that him, it makes him grateful that he has you. even though he doesn't say it, he shows through actions just how truly important you are whenever he draws a sword towards his enemies, thinking about you and his unsaid promises.

nights where you're reminded of that solitary confinement, of the darkness that creeps into your vision and the voices that pierce through your ears. nights where you feel you've exhausted yourself of hope, where what was once warmth that hugs your heart is now that frigid, yet burning spikes that penetrates into the confidence that you'll somehow, someday, run away from that hellhole— those were nights you thought you'd never live with proper sleep. but as one or two of them holds you in their embrace whenever your nightmares consume your being, you're slowly allowing your established walls to fall apart, all for the mere implication of their love.

who would save you, if not for them? their hushed whispers of consolation, hands that wrap around your figure, and fingers that knead your cheeks provide you that deep sated comfort you always wanted. the sleeves they use to wipe away both saltine liquid and snot, to slowly silence your blubbering rambles, your inconsolable crying; it's warmer than the basement you used to be locked in as a child, with dripping faucets the only source of your water— they saved you once before, who's to say they won't save you a thousand times more?

every time you feel like crying, every time that familiar faulty tap in your eyes begins to dampen against ashen skin, it's them that asks you if you're alright. even if you grit your teeth, even if you seeth or bite or beat or punch or kick, to punish yourself, to cope through the trauma, to not feel nothing.

every time pain begins to sear through your skin, it's your grandfather, father, brothers and sisters that huddle around you and tell you 'you're safe here, in the manor, with us'.

every time they spend hours, ditching patrol nights, cooking your comfort food, reading your favorite books, watching movies for hours, ignoring your assigned sleep schedule, kissing your scarred hands gently, reverently, cuddling your form against their strong ones as a silent promise that with them, there's nothing to harm you no more— you'd feel lighter every time, a tad happier, even. slowly, but surely, melting against the confines of your adorned cage and the embrace of your loving captors.

every time they help you heal, it makes you forgive, and it makes you forget their prior kidnapping in return of building new memories with them, in a safer haven, with nobody to hurt you any longer, with nobody to bash your head against concrete walls, to punish you. you who is underserving of the circumstances bought upon you back then.

safe, a word you thought you'll never feel, a word you didn't even know existed in the crevices of your heart. but it is with them that you slowly start to associate safe with family.

the family that you've come to love and cherish in your own imperfect ways, the same way a stray dog becomes too loyal to a passerby when given bones for leftovers every day.

but you're not an animal, and you're not a pavlovian dog meant to be conditioned. no, you're their baby, their love, their treasure and their only one. the love they feed you exceeds beyond leftovers. only you can devour them wholly, the same way they cloak your world in the love that fills that neverending pit in your heart.

you're not biologically related to any of them in any way, too. yet it was all a matter of coincidence that they stumbled upon you.

but really, past is past.

then is then.

now it's just you and them.

it's you, with them.

just your family. overbearing, overprotective, overpowering.

but nothing is always over to you. their love isn't too much. how could you tell yourself it's too much? not when you were never given a basis of what is too much. how is one too much when you were never even given enough?

trust is built upon a foundation of connecting with others who can relate with you one way or another, who can see past through your flaws and mistakes— it's a bond that precedes mere acquaintanceship.

you might've met them later than everyone else, but it's you that completes them.

you're the puzzle that completes the family photographs, the goal for bruce to continue his legacy as batman and to ward off all evil, the inspiration for dick to be that aspiring hero everyone sees him to be, the reason jason begins to reform himself for your sake, the purpose for tim's endless pursuit of knowledge, the muse for damian's painting, the subject for his love he thought was no more, the ambition for steph's prolongation despite her countless of failures, the motivation for barbara to seek out all the criminals who have harmed you, the influence for cass to be stronger to protect you, the catalyst for duke to use his metahuman abilities for good, to take out those who walk in broad daylight, as if they weren't involved in your past tortures.

you're everything that they are.

their sunshine and moonlight, their companionship and loneliness, their pain and pleasure, their yin and yan.

their greatest passion.

a/n: hii guys erm. this is so sudden and also counts as a rant but yk... i feel like quitting this blog but at the same time not. it's just, i feel like writing has been more of an obligation than anything else. it doesn't help the fact that i've only been getting interaction if i were to actually produce something good. beyond that, it feels like people are expecting more of me. i get it, updates are sporadic, they appear in the blink of an eye when you least expect it, but at the same time it's just hard juggling what i want to write and what i feel like i need to write. this blog was primarily to post about my thoughts and to talk to people but lately, every time i open this app to write, i feel these plethora of thoughts and expectations telling me that if i don't do well enough then people would merely ignore whatever i post or it's just bad by standards. and yes i'm grateful for all the people supporting my writing, but at the same time i'm lead to a cycle of me losing my motivation to continue writing. ugh idk what im doing anymore help :((

tl;dr: will i stop writing? no, but at the same time i don't know. someday, i may deactivate this account out of impulse if i feel too much, or not. it depends hehe.

[squoxle]

🕸️KINKTOBER 🕷️ 2024🕸️

𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: This is all fiction. AKA not an accurate portrayal of the members. If certain themes are triggering for you, please avoid them AT ALL COST!!! You must be 18 or older to engage in the content below. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!! Happy Reading :)

ᅟᅟᅟ⌕ | 𝐌𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐬 & 𝐆𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐩𝐬 𝐅𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐝 | ⁀➴

STRAY KIDS: 「 Bangchan — Felix 」

ENHYPEN: 「 Heeseung — Jungwon 」

TOMORROW BY TOGETHER: 「 Yeonjun — Huening Kai 」

ATEEZ: 「 Yunho — Mingi 」

RIIZE: 「 Shotaro — Anton 」

ᅟᅟᅟ⌕ | 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | ⁀➴ link to main mlist

DAYS 1 THROUGH 8… Established Relationship AU

[1] • CRAZY OVER YOU, BABY enhypen ot7 ↳ Clingy Girlfriend (anon) GENRE: fluff, suggestive, smut

[2] • MATCH MY FREAK riize ot7 ↳ RIIZE BF as Kinks GENRE: smut

[3] • TAP OUT txt ot5 ↳ Edging GENRE: smut

[4] • TTYL starring Heeseung ↳ Dirty Talking GENRE: smut

[5] • CHOKEHOLD starring Changbin ↳ Asphyxiation + Rough Sex GENRE: smut

[6] • FUCK ME LIKE YOU MAD AT ME, BABY starring Jake ↳ Impact Play (anon) GENRE: smut

[7] • TRUST ME starring Yeosang ↳ Blindfold + Sensory Deprivation GENRE: smut

[8] • QUICK FUCK starring Jake and Heeseung ↳ Car Sex (anon) GENRE: smut

DAYS 9 THROUGH 15… Friends/Strangers/Enemies to Lovers

[9] • WHY DO YOU HATE ME? starring Huening Kai ↳ Dacryphilia + Bullying GENRE: smut, crack, angst

[10] • GOOD BOY starring Wonbin ↳ Sadism + Masochism GENRE: smut

[11] • YOU'RE MINE starring Hongjoong ↳ Biting + Marking + Babytrap GENRE: smut

[12] • FUCK ME LIKE THIS starring Beomgyu ↳ Virgin + Body Worship GENRE: smut

[13] • TIMEOUT!! starring Hyunjin ↳ Bullying + Rough Sex + Secret Relationship GENRE: smut

[14] • CAN'T HELP MYSELF starring Jake ↳ Voyeurism + Somnophilia + Babytrap (anon) GENRE: smut

[15] • ZIP IT UP starring Heeseung ↳ Stimulation (anon) GENRE: smut

DAYS 15 THROUGH 21… Taboo

[16] • BF X BSF starring Felix and Bangchan ↳ Cuckholding + Double Penetration + Voyeurism GENRE: smut

[17] • LOOK, DON'T TOUCH starring Sungchan, Shotaro, Sohee ↳ Voyeurism GENRE: smut

[18] • SLEEP ON IT starring Seonghwa ↳ Somnophilia + Spectrophilia GENRE: smut, incubus, black magic

[19] • LESSON ONE starring Lee Know ↳ Corruption + Professor GENRE: smut

[20] • SUCK IT starring Sunghoon ↳ Tobusexual + CNC + Blood Play GENRE: smut

[21] • TWO FOR ONE starring San and Mingi ↳ Double Penetration + Toys + Drunk Sex GENRE: smut

[22] • PUSSY PLAY starring Yeonjun ↳ Role Play + Kitty + Oral GENRE: smut

[23] • SPIN CYCLE starring Jay and Jake ↳ Exhibitionist GENRE: smut

DAYS 22 THROUGH 31… Heavy Hitters

[24] • DIE FOR YOU starring Yunho ↳ Psycho Lover + Profession Taboo + Manipulation GENRE: smut, angst, gore (@mimikittysblog - alternative ending)

[25] • FLOWER GIRL starring Jake ↳ Yandere GENRE: smut, angst, dark themes

[26] • SHOW ME HOW TO LOVE YOU starring Han ↳ Friends with Benefits GENRE: smut, angst

[27] • PAINT ME RED starring Sunghoon ↳ Yandere + Stalker (anon) GENRE: smut, angst, gore

[28] • MAKE A WISH starring Niki ↳ Friends with Benefits GENRE: suggestive, angst

[29] • TRUTH HURTS starring ??? ↳ Friends with Benefits (anon) GENRE: smut, angst

[30] • WHEN THE WORLD FALLS APART starring Jake ↳ Purge (anon) GENRE: smut, angst

[31] • I'M SORRY, DADDY enhypen ot6 ↳ Orgy + Creampie + Squirting + Toys + Multi Penetration GENRE: smut

Drop a comment letting me know if you want to be added to the taglist for the upcoming fics 🖤

@wildflowermooon

@heeseungshim

@ramyeonzprincess

[sweatervest-obsessed]

Last, Last Time

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader (she/her pronouns)

WC: ~7.3k

TW: Angst, guns, violence, mentions of domestic violence, blood, swearing, depression, kidnapping, manipulation, self-deprecating thoughts, heartbreak, arguing, the grieving process, drinking, screaming, crying, sobbing, throwing up, being under pressure, and anything else that comes with a criminal minds episode.

a/n: based on S15 E6 - first date. I love u aubrey plaza <3. Also inspired by the song Last, Last Time by Boys Go To Jupitar. writing this was a little bit of a catharsis since it's one of the first things I've been able to write. I'm sorry I've been so m.i.a., i just moved to a new country and that has been a crazy experience. But to cope with that, enjoy some gut-wrenching angst!

Spencer Masterlist

“Spencer I won’t—I can’t keep doing this. I’m sick of arguing in circles.” 

“Y/n…”

“I-I feel like you take me for fucking granted Spencer. All I do is work and then come home and wait for you to actually be able to, I don’t know, sleep in the same bed as me for more than four hours.”

The look in his eyes almost took you out but your heart had already been broken long, long before this argument. If anything, you were starting to feel this sense of freedom as you broke his heart. 

“Please. Y/n. Just–I don’t—Just give me a few days to convince Hotch to let me have some time off and we can work on this please.” 

“Wait for the potential of us?” 

Spencer’s jaw loosened. You couldn’t read beyond the initial layer of pain and confusion, which made your chest ache since not too long ago you could have been able to find everything you needed in his expression.

“God Spencer this can’t be fucking news to you. We’ve been drifting apart for months now.” 

“I know, I know. You have been so patient with me and I’ve just been….there was that whole thing with Cat and then….I-I was trying so hard y/n…”

“No, first there was that whole thing with Maeve.”

“That’s not fair—”

“Oh that’s not fair? Really? You’re going to tell me the entire Maeve thing isn’t fair to you?”

“I’m sorry.”

You sighed and closed your eyes. “I’m not saying you weren’t trying but come one Spencer. There’s no need to deny this shit anymore. I hate it when you lie to me about these kinds of things.” 

Spencer’s hand came up to his face and it dragged down, aging him significantly with the fatigue written all over his face. 

“So you’re just going to pack up everything, break my heart, and leave? Were you even going to say goodbye, or was I going to come home to an empty home. A note or....” 

“I-I don’t know Spencer. I just don’t…” 

The tears were starting to creep in, and you had to place the box down before you lost it.

“This isn’t easy for me either…” Your chest heaved. 

The both of you stood in silence, tension simmering surrounding the both of you like heat on a summer’s eve. Neither of you could really look at one another, but it felt wrong to look at anything else. Something was missing but you couldn’t say it outloud. You knew you would always love Spencer Reid but this time it was not enough. 

“I’m tired of arguing Spencer.” 

Your eyes met his. You felt Spencer’s arms around you before you could even feel the tears hit your cheeks. Your arms immediately went to his neck, so familiar. No longer home. 

Spencer’s voice muttered into your ear. “Don’t cry Jolie. It’ll be okay..” 

About three years ago, Spencer had decided that he didn’t like that you had nicknames for him, and he had none for you. He spent weeks workshopping different ones : Sugar, Honey, Pumpkin, Sweetheart, Darlin, Pookie, Lover, Sunny (like sunshine), Sunshine—it was a wild few weeks trying to figure out who he was talking to. Then one day, offhandedly, he was trying to tell you about this french film he had been watching, and trying to get Emily to watch with him. 

He called you ‘tres jolie’, and blushing you had asked him what it meant. He told you it meant pretty. 

And it stuck. 

Now? It stung. 

All you could do was squeeze tightly onto him, not ready to let go.

“You’re so pretty when you’re lying through your teeth.” You whispered after a few moments, pulling away out of his arms. 

“I.” You swallow and step back, out of his reach. “Maybe I’ll...” 

Spencer just looked up at the ceiling, trying to hold in the tears that were streaming down his face. 

You grabbed the last box on the counter and your keys, and walked out, for the last time. 

You awoke in your bed, eyes adjusting to the complete darkness the blackout curtains provided you. 

Another fucking night thinking about your decision those four years ago, and how your life may have gotten better because of it. 

Moving to get up from the bed, you decided to leave the curtains closed for now, feeling as if you could melt from the sun touching you. 

You turned on the bathroom light and started your morning routine. Wash face. Take meds. Brush teeth. Fix hair—

Somewhere in that process, you got lost, and just stared at yourself in the mirror. You weren’t sure for how long. All you could do was replay the last four years. 

Did you make the right choice? You were happy, you had your dream job. 

Maybe it was true what they say, you can only have a career or love, but not both—

The only thing taking you out of this spiral was the ringer on your phone going off. 

This caused some hesitation because your phone’s ringer was always off––the loud noise startling you. There were only a few people who had that emergency bypass, and none of them had called you in four years. 

You peaked out of the bathroom and saw the name light up on your phone. 

Emily Prentiss

______________________________________________________________

The door to the round room opened up and in walked Spencer Reid. “Catch me up.” 

Prentiss clicked the remote, and the TV lit up with a picture of a woman smirking facing the camera while holding a gun up to another one next to her. “Early this morning, Garcia got an email from an anonymous server.”

The second woman was tied up, mouth slightly open, and eyes filled with tears, while a man on the other side just had his eyes closed, tired. . 

Spencer just stared at the photo. 

Rossi nodded at the picture. “She's not obscuring her face, telling us she's got nothing to hide.”

He never pulled focus away from the screen, mouth dry at the thought of what today was going to be. “Any ideas on the unsub?”

“No.” Prentiss sighed. “Only the unsub's demand. That we release Catherine Adams in 24 hours.  I'm having her transferred here for questioning, but we have no illusions. This is just a game to her. We know that. The question is, do we want to play it or not?”

______________________________________________________________

Receiving a call from the FBI was not entirely new to you, since you had been engaged to one of their agents, but receiving one now? Weird. Off brand. Something was deeply wrong from them to have to give you a call. 

You hesitantly pick up the phone. “Hello?”

“Hey Y/n, it’s Emily Prentiss—“

“I know who you are, Emily. It’s been a couple years, not millions.” 

Emily hummed a brief laugh, and you could hear other voices behind her, unable to make out anything. 

“I know this is hard to ask of you, but would you stay on the phone with me and come in?” 

“What?” 

“I need you to stay very calm Y/n, but I need you to stay on the line with me, leave your apartment as soon as you can, and get to the BAU.” 

“Oh my god I totally forgot. It might take me an hour to get there with all this bullshit traffic, could we push the reservation an hour? Would they be willing to do that?” 

Your entire tone changed, having remembered what Spencer had told you all those years ago about if people were listening into your apartment, if they bugged your car—all paranoia that didn’t pay off then, might be paying off now. 

You were sure you could hear Emily sigh, and it sounded a little upset at the fact that you knew what to do–you knew how to handle a dangerous situation, which made her question everything in her life. 

Quickly you pulled on a pair of jeans and threw a sweatshirt over your pajama top and grabbed your keys off of the counter. 

You left your apartment, waved to one of your neighbors, and hopped into your car, still on the line, just trying not to panic. Maybe something went wrong, maybe Spencer wasn’t okay, maybe he had died—you refused to even acknowledge that thought and decided it was something else entirely. 

It was a very tense hour of driving, that was only about forty minutes since you knew how to drive above the speed limit. 

You realized that it was past midday, and you had taken full advantage of the weekend. So at least you had a decent amount of sleep under your belt for what felt like the beginning of an extraneous night. 

As you pulled into the parking garage, Emily Prentiss and someone you had never met before were standing there waiting for you. You placed your car in park, hopped out and walked up to them–only hanging up as soon as you were out of the car. 

Both of them had such grim looks on their faces, but at least they were trying to pretend like the situation wasn’t as bad as it appeared to your face. 

Emily engulfed you in a hug. “Missed you Y/n. It’s been too long.” 

“Well Em, next time I end an engagement with someone I’ll consider your feelings first.” You squeezed him back, dryly laughing at your own joke. At least it caused Emily to snort. 

“Y/n this is SSA Luke Alvez. Luke, this is Y/n Y/l/n.”

“It’s nice to meet you.” He gave a small smile and nodded at you.

“I wish it were under different circumstances.” You nodded back and looked over at Emily.

“Let’s head inside?” 

The three of you moved inside. 

Sure, you hadn’t been here in a while, but you knew your way around the BAU Bullpen if your life depended on it, which was ironic since that was what this feels like. 

As soon as you were safely in their round table room, Luke shut the door, and stood by it, Emily coming and sitting down next to you. 

“What do you know about Cat Adams?” 

That bitch. 

______________________________________________________________

“I would like to go on a date. With you.” 

Spencer stared at her, face stoic as ever. “A date?”

“Yes. I want to look pretty. And I want to have fun.” She looked him up and down. “And I won't even get physical, ok? Unless you want me to.”

Spencer sat down across from her. “Come here. Closer.”

Cat leaned in, a small smile on her face, absolutely intoxicated by being so close to him.

“The only date that I'll be there for is the one where they stick a needle in your vein.”

Cat scoffed. “You're just going to let her father and sister die? I don't think so.”

“I never said it was a father and daughter. You're already slipping.” He stood up from the table. “We'll find them. We always do.”

Cat leaned back and crossed her arms. “Not tonight. Tonight I win.”

His resolution had yet to change, “The score between me and you is two to zero. By tomorrow morning, it'll be a clean sweep. Enjoy eternal nothingness. It's a metaphor for your life.” 

And with that, the door slammed shut behind him.

______________________________________________________________

Both the profilers watched a series of emotions run rampant across your face, before you settled on a somewhat displeased smile. “A lot.” 

They exchanged a look, and you didn’t have the energy to pretend like you didn’t know what it was. 

“Don’t start with me you two. I know profiling. I know what you’re doing. Ask me the questions you want to ask. Don’t try and trick me into giving the answers you want.” 

Alvez bit his tongue and looked away, trying to hide a small smile that appeared on his lips. 

Emily, on the other hand, hid her smile a bit better than him, but part of being previously engaged to a profiler meant you picked up on some of their tricks too. 

She nodded and pulled a file from across the table. “I’m assuming you know the basics since she, uh, is obsessed with Spencer.”

“Glad to see he still has that going for him.” You muttered and looked into the file. 

Emily shot Luke a look when he let out a huff or air, trying his damndest not to laugh. 

“What is the last thing you know about her?” 

You recounted the days leading up to the restaurant, and then the few days after, decidedly stopping short of the engagement breaking off a week later. 

They shared another look, and you didn’t enjoy whatever it was that had moved across their faces. 

“What? What happened?” 

“Y/n..”

“No Emily, I drove from DC to here, I deserve to know what happened. without some weird sugarcoating, alright?” 

Emily then begins to explain to you the past four years of Reid’s life. Cat pretending she was pregnant with his kid in prison, kidnapping his mother, framing him for murder in Mexico, going to prison—

“Spencer went to prison and none of you thought to call me….”

“We didn’t think you’d–” 

“I’m a fucking criminal defense attorney in DC Emily. Of course I’d want to know if he was arrested, especially internationally. I know that law better than all of you. If someone I knew was kidnapped, I’d call you immediately. Faster than the cops.” 

Both of them went silent. 

“So is he out?” 

They nodded slowly, silently. 

“How long was he in there.”

Nothing. 

“I asked. How. Long.”

Luke spoke up. “Three months.” 

“Jesus christ.” You stood up and started to pace around the room, taking the time you needed to calm down. 

Why didn’t Spencer call you—well you knew why Spencer wouldn’t call you. 

“Okay so he’s out.” You said finally. “Why am I here?” 

“Cat’s execution is coming up, and we….we found out that she’s convinced someone to kidnap some….people…close to Reid, and we knew you’d be on that list for him.” 

Your eyebrows went up at people but said nothing of it. Just as you went to say something else, JJ knocked on the door, another blonde woman behind her. 

They entered and JJ gave you a small, yet genuine smile. 

You returned it, but quickly shifted your gaze onto the woman behind. 

Your whole body shifted slightly, into a place of defense, locking your emotions down. You knew all the profilers were watching it happen in real time, which is why Emily walked over and stood next to you, a hand appearing on the small of your back as a comfort.

“Would someone like to tell me what is going on here?” The blonde woman spoke up, arms crossed.

At least Spencer’s taste in partners with attitude hadn’t changed. 

______________________________________________________________

“Victimology is off.”

“How so?” Prentiss looked up at him as he walked into the room. 

“Father and daughter. She’s never done that before.” 

Lewis spoke up. “She usually kills men that remind her of her father. Children–even adult children, are off limits. Do we have an ID yet.” 

Prentiss, Rossi, Garcia, and JJ all looked over at Reid, and he just pulled a hand down his face. “It’s. It’s Issac and Noelle Y/l/n.” 

“Y/l/n…as is Y/n Y/l/n.” Tara looked up surprised at Spencer. 

Reid nodded slowly, just staring at the picture on the projector.

While Luke spoke up. “Who is Y/n Y/l/n.” 

“An old friend.” Rossi quickly interjected, before any more explanation had to be said. It was clear both Alvez and Simmons, that whoever this was, was an extremely touchy subject for Reid. 

Tara, who had only known you for a little while, looked back at the picture. 

Rossie spoke up. “What do we know about the partner who’s helping her?” 

“It’s got to be someone from her prison.” Simmons spoke up. “She hasn’t had contact with anyone else.” 

______________________________________________________________

After all of that, you found yourself back in a place you left four years ago. It looked almost the same as when you had first moved in, but there was less of it. 

Almost as if he was having trouble covering places where things used to be.

There were almost no photos on the walls, since you had taken half of them, and were in the rest. 

Calling someone you once loved a stranger feels wrong. 

Max, as you had learned her name, was just sitting on the couch in your spot . She was looking around as you and Rossi stood by the kitchen counter. 

“Cat had a cellmate named Juliette Weaver. We believe the two were working together, as a way for Cat to get something against Spencer, and as payment, Cat would get Juliette’s ex.”

You nodded. “How does this affect me?” 

“She took your father and sister.” 

Your back straightened and immediately brought out your phone, to call your sister, but Rossi just grabbed your wrist (gently) and shook his head. “If she finds out you know, then it’s all over. She’s doing this on purpose. She knows about you and Reid, but she knows that dragging you into all of this will hurt him more than anything else.” 

His voice had gone low and quiet, so that the girl on the couch couldn’t hear. 

“So why is she here?” You whispered back. 

“Because we don’t want anyone in danger.” 

You closed your eyes and nodded. “I need a cup of tea.” 

Rossi let go of your wrist, and you walked into the kitchen, mostly eyes closed from the stress of the situation. 

The apartment was silent, the others watching as you grabbed a kettle, and started to make tea. It was like second nature to you as you turned the stovetop on, grabbed a mug from the cabinet (careful to not grab one of his favorites), and grabbed some tea from the cabinet. 

It didn’t dawn on you that you were drinking your favorite type of tea until the second sip, while the entire apartment was still silent. 

The pity from Rossi's look was palpable. 

“Don’t even start.” 

He shrugged and stayed silent. 

Until his walkie went off and he looked at Max. “It’s time. Let’s go.” 

Rossi looked back at you and gave you a quick hug, squeezing you tightly. “You’ve got this kid. Remember everything we talked about.” 

You nodded and gave them both a strained smile as they left the apartment, leaving you all alone in this place you once called home, alone. 

Never once, since you left, did you think you would ever be back here. You didn’t even realize you were drinking from one of your own mugs until it was just you. The irony of it was not lost on you, and you sat down in your spot on the couch. 

Well first you sat in Spencer’s seat but it felt too weird, so you shifted back into your spot on the couch. 

______________________________________________________________

“Juliette staked out in Reid’s life. Found out he was dating someone, but then must have discovered his ex-fiancée.” Simmons sighed. “He was probably so focused on Max, he didn’t even realize that someone was digging into his history, following them around.”

Prentiss nodded as they walked and talked. “But if Juliette was able to find Max, that meant she was easily able to find Y/n and her family. It means she must have access to all of her publicly available information. “

“Well at least we found their hidden agenda.” 

“No. We found Cat’s hidden agenda. Juliette doesn’t care about Reid. There’s something we’re missing here. Do a deep dive with Garcia.” 

Simmons nodded at Prentis. “On it.” 

“I’ll go to Reid's apartment and monitor onsite. Is there a trap and trace on his landline?” 

“Garcia’s almost set up.” Simmons walked away from Prentiss, and down towards Penelope’s office. 

“Well this went from bad to worse.” Tara walked up to Emily. 

Emily sighed in agreement. 

Lewis spoke up. “Female narcissists destroy their competition.Y/n  really shouldn’t be in there.” 

Emily just nodded and the two of them headed out of the bullpen. “Walk with me.” 

Tara kept stride with her as they pushed through the doors. Rossi was just getting off the phone with someone and turned to look at the two women approaching him and JJ. 

JJ spoke up when Rossi was finished. “So, the hospital just released the dad– Issac Y/l/n. He's on his way here now.

Rossi scoffed. “Question is, why let him go at all?”

“Matt's on that.” Emily gestures in the direction of Garcia’s office. “Juliette Weaver's real agenda should tell us where she's taking Y/n’s younger sister.”

Lewis spoke next. “I still think the play here is to get Cat and Juliette to contact each other, but I have no idea how.”

Prentiss crossed her arms. “I have a plan, but first we have to talk about Y/n.” 

______________________________________________________________

Just then, you heard the click of the door, and stood up, watching as the door swung open. 

And there he was. 

This was the first time you had seen Spencer in four years. 

And here he was, kissing Catherine Adams. 

The woman you could give partial credit to for ending your relationship. 

After a moment Spencer looked up, and took several steps away from Cat. His eyes were wide and locked on yours. 

It took a lot of self-restraint to not punch the lights out of Cat, and to stand still arms crossed. 

“Y/n?” Spencer’s voice broke a little bit. 

You never would say that Spencer was unattractive. In fact, it would be a lie if you ever said it. But something about the past four years aged him like a fine wine. 

His hair was a bit longer, he had some scruff—his baby face had melted away and standing in front of you was a man who thought you knew everything about, but was now a stranger. 

You didn’t answer him, watching as he took you in, standing in his apartment, for the first time since…

“What are you doing here?” 

You looked over at Cat, who had the most devious smirk on her face. 

Remember what Prentiss had said to you. 

“You know why I’m here.” 

Cat nodded and the two of them moved into the apartment, the door closing behind them. 

Spencer just stood ten feet away from you, eyes never leaving you, and you watched him right back. 

Cat, on the other hand, was walking around, examining the apartment. You could see her take notice of the tea you had made yourself on the counter. You could see the hatred from the corner of your eyes. The two of you were starting to piss her off. 

She spoke up, after a few moments of silence. “Did it make you mad that I was kissing your Fiancé?” 

You shook your head. “No.”

Your focus had fully turned to Cat, but you swore you swore you could hear Spencer take a sharp inhale as you spoke your next words.

“Well, he's not my fiancé and I kind of have some other things on my mind.”

Cat didn’t scare you, but there was just something so off-putting about her. “Like what?” 

“Are you gonna hurt Noelle?”

Cat shrugged. “Not if I don't have to, no. Honestly, if she follows instructions, she might even learn from this whole experience.”

You scoffed. “What does that mean?”

Cat just started fiddling with the chess set on the dresser. 

“Spencer, what does she mean?” You turned to look back at him, his name feeling so good on your tongue. 

Spencer, who really hadn’t stopped looking at you and sighed. “I think…She means that Noelle isn’t learning from her, but from Juliette.” 

You sat down in your spot on the couch, arms crossed. You were on the full defense. 

Spencer noticed where you sat and had to look down to conceal any notions of a smile on his face. 

Cat watched him before turning and looking at you, some more disdain on her face than before. 

“Normally, Spencie and I, we spend our time together playing games, but tonight, I've brought you all here to make a point. You are doing so much better.” 

Spencer spoke up. “With you?”

“I'm not talking to you.” Cat snapped at him before she turned to you. “I'm talking to you. Because, girlfriend, you need to know the truth about your fiancé.” 

“He's not my finacé.” You were unsure about how many more times you could say that outloud. 

“No kidding. When’s the last time you spoke? Right…” Cat walked over to the center of the room, right in front of the couch. “Here?” 

Your head whipped around to Spencer. “You told her about that?”

Spencer was pleading with his eyes. “I had to say a lot of things tonight.”

Cat’s voice caused your head to snap back to her. “Yes, he has. He said that you never compared to me, that, um... That no matter what, he will never get me out of his mind, unlike you. Unlike that girlfriend.” 

You tried not to wince at the mention of that girl Maxine out in one of the trucks.

Spencer sat down next to you. “Everything I said—I was lying to save your family.”

Cat scoffed. “Did our kiss look like a lie?” 

“No.” you just looked down at your hands. 

“Thank you. See, now we're getting to the heart of the matter.” Cat started mocking Spencer. “You see, everyone thinks that Dr. Spencer Reid is... Is just this nice, bookish, uh, genius who, uh, always saves the day and has all the answers. And has zero mommy issues, right? But, um... I know the real him.” 

“Oh, yeah? Who's the real me, Cat?” 

“The real Spencer Reid throws women against walls. And hisses that he's going to kill them.” 

Spencer stood up, squaring off against her.  “That was a very different situation.”

“No, it wasn't.” Cat was holding the smirk back this time, making your gut wretch. 

“Spencer…What is she talking about?” You looked from the psychopath in front of you, to the man you realized you might have never really known beside you.

“You tell her. She's not gonna believe it coming from me.” She huffed. 

Reid turned and looked at you. “Two years ago, Cat had her partner kidnap my mother. Just like tonight. She got under my skin and…”

Your chest hurts. “And you threw her against a wall?” 

Cat’s smirk was breaking through whatever resolve she had. “Don't skimp on the details, Spencie. She deserves to know everything.”

Every single time she said Spencie you swore a shock went up your spine. 

Spencer looked down at his hands, and then over at you. His voice had gotten quieter. “She was pregnant at the time and I knew that when I hurt her.” 

“And?” She stood there expectantly, waiting for Spencer to finish. When he didn’t, her face suddenly became solemn. “The next day... I miscarried. The end.”

Spencer looked at her. “That's not true.” 

“It is most certainly true. Check my medical records.” 

“That doesn't mean I-I would…”

Cat held up her hand to him. “Stop. Look.”

Spencer looked over at you, just sitting on the couch, trying to process everything that was going through your head. 

After thinking about everything you had gone through, especially with Spencer. “I thought you were better than that Spence.” 

It was the first time you had used a nickname for him in years. And he was hearing it for the first time while you were stuck in a standoff between himself and Cat Adams, your sister being god knows where. 

Spencer’s voice cracked. “I'm sorry.” 

Cat squatted down in front of you, a sick smile on her lips. She was enjoying this. She truly enjoyed watching his life crumble to bits. “Notice how your Spencie is apologizing to you and not me.”

You clenched your hands. “He’s not mine…”

Spencer just looked over at you. 

Cat nodded. “That's good. Because men are all the same. Aren't they, Jolie?” 

Spencer’s eyes lit up with an emotion you rarely saw from him when you were together. “Don't call her that.”

And you couldn’t blame him. The word ran you through like a spear and you were sure if you looked behind you, the blade would be through the couch. You tried so hard to not let either of the two people near you see how much it messed with you. Luckily for you, Cat was too busy pushing Spencer’s buttons to see the way her words won against you. 

Cat hissed at him. “What, are you gonna throw me against a wall and choke me, or do you only do that to pregnant women?” 

You finally spoke up. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because I want you to see it.” She gestured to Spencer. “I want you to see that he is...no better than he was before, or any man after. They’re all the same.” 

“Stop.”

Cat squatted down in front of you. “I can see it on your face. What's his name?” 

You stared back at her. “It's none of your business.”

That damned smirk of hers returned. “It is exactly my business. In fact, it's my specialty. I mean, I could have Juliette and baby sister go over there if you want. They could take care of him.” 

Reid looked over at you. “Say yes. Give her what she wants.” 

“Hmm. See, he wants you to get me to make a little phone call so they can trace it.” She moved away from you both and sat down in the lounging chair across from you. “They're so good, the FBI.”

You jumped up and started pacing, a spitting image of four years ago. “What is wrong with the two of you? What is this sick, twisted thing that you have? Listen, I just want to save my sister. Will you please just tell me what I have to do to do that?” 

“Tell me his name. Tell me the story. That's it. And then if they can let Juliette exit stage right, then I promise you I will let her go.”

You looked between Cat and Spencer before walking over to the kitchen, and hanging up the phone. After staring down at the decision you had just made, you walked back over and took your phone out. “Here.  Use this. Use my phone. They can't trace it.”

She just watched you. “You'd be surprised.”

“I don't even need a call. Just... just a photo.” You held the phone out to her. “Something to prove to me that she's still alive. Please”. 

Cat just looked up at your face. “Story first.”

“Y/n. Please.” Spencer turned to you, hoping you’d look back at him. “I have been here with her before. She called the number and told the partner to kill my mom.”

“It is so tricky, isn't it? I mean, who are you gonna trust? The lying, cheating, violent psychopath... Or me?”

You looked down at the ground, refusing to look over at Spencer. “His…His name was Mike Davis. We dated for two years. I met him a month after we…we split.”

Cat’s attention on you felt as if there were a million bees stinging your body all at different intervals, pain coursing through your body. “Good. When did it end?” 

“Last year.” 

“Was he good in bed?” 

Spencer stood up. “Shut up.” 

Cat was enjoying this. She was enjoying watching you make Spencer uncomfortable. She was enjoying hurting him in every masochistic way she could. “What? You have to know where you stand.”

“He was good…” You looked back at Cat. “Good at, um, separating me from my friends and my family. Enough that the first time he punched me in the face, I didn't have anywhere to go. And my first response wasn't "get out." It wasn't "go to hell." It was "I'm sorry, Mike." That's when he knew he had me.”

There was a glint in Spencer’s eyes, and you could swear they were tears, but you couldn’t tell from rage or sorrow. 

Cat continued to probe. “How many hospital visits were there?” 

You showed her a small scar on the inside of your elbow. “None. No, he... He knew how to hurt me just enough to hide it all, I guess.”  

“But you found the strength to leave. What did you do?” 

“ I planned and I... I waited.”

Cat’s eyes lit up. “Waited for what? “

“I live here in D.C.” You looked between Spencer and Cat. “but I'm also a resident in Virginia. It takes 60 days for the permit to clear.”

Spencer’s eyes widened. “Y/n, stop talking. Stop talking right now.”

Cat shushed him. “No, don't stop. Here. Give me the phone. Look, I'm gonna enter the text. Stick the landing and I'll hit "send."

You handed her the phone and she quickly typed out a message, her thumb hovering over send. 

Fiddling with your ring finger, you started to speak again. Slowly. Concisely. “When I was ready, I picked a fight. Loud enough for the neighbors to hear. And he came at me with his fist just cocked back, so I pulled my Glock 19 out of my purse. I shot him.”

Spencer tried to interject. “It was self-defense. He was attacking you—”

“That's what I told 911 as he was struggling to breathe on his kitchen floor. That's why the police never charged me. I’m a lawyer, I know how to plead.” You closed your eyes. “But I... after I hung up, I... I shot him two more times.” 

Cat was glowing, spinning around to face Spencer. “Wow, you really have a type, don't you? Quite a dilemma, too. She just admitted to murder.” 

Spencer was in disbelief. “She'll beat it.” . 

“Probably. But whatever feelings she might have still had for you, and whatever Maxine might have seen in you—-it’s all gone.” 

The phone in your hand buzzed.

“Oh, wow. Look at that. Your sister. Alive and well. You're welcome.” 

Your face hardened up, and you stood up straighter. Walking away from the two of them, you opened the door. “I got it.” 

She took the phone from your hand and you turned back to the two of them. There was no emotion behind your eyes as you looked back at Spencer. 

Cat smirked and looked up at Spencer. “I win.” 

______________________________________________________________

The prison transport was quiet, with the two guards sitting across from Spencer and Cat. It had been silent for about twenty minutes, but then, Cat spoke up. 

“Do you know why I did this? Why I really did this?” 

Spencer looked down at his hands. “You wanted to prove I'm a monster just like you.”

“No... Silly. I just wanted to see you again. I just wanted to make sure that you would never forget about me.” She sighed. “'Cause when they do put that needle in my arm, I just want there to be even the slightest chance that... Maybe you're still thinking about me…”

Spencer stiffened as she placed her head on his shoulder. “You didn't have to terrorize 3 innocent people. You could've just written a letter.” 

“Would you have written me back?” 

When Spencer didn’t respond, Cat knew her answer. 

“Bye, Spencie. I really enjoyed our date.” She smiled at him desperately, getting dragged out of the vehicle by the guards to the prison. 

______________________________________________________________

The elevator door opened and Spencer walked out of it, his whole body reeked of defeat, and he barely looked at Emily as she spoke.  “We need to debrief.” 

Spencer just walked right past her, and into the bullpen. His expression changed when he saw you on one side talking to Tara, and Max on the other, looking up at him right as he walked in. 

“Spencer, are you okay?” 

Her voice caught your ear, and immediately you looked up to see her walk over and embrace him in a hug. 

He smiled at her, and grateful returned the hug before muttering that he would be back, and explain everything.

You were never going to get back together with Spencer, but watching it in real time was like unlacing an old wound. 

Spencer walked over to you, and you stood up as he approached. 

“Uh, Tara, would you mind giving us…”

She nodded at him and walked away. 

Both of you went to speak, trying to say something to the other. 

“I should explain all of this.” 

Spencer shook his head. “You don’t have to explain any of that Y/n—it doesn’t.” 

You cut him off. “It was fake—most of it. I didn’t kill anyone, Spence. I was just lying to her to get her to send the text from my phone. It was all…It was made up.” 

He just nodded, staring at you really. 

You gave him a soft smile, and gently placed a hand on his shoulder. Both of you could feel the pulse between it, making you remove your hand and take a small step back. 

“Thank you for saving my sister and father.” 

Spencer watched your resolve fully formed, masking whatever you were feeling. He hated watching it happen to him, watching as you placed whatever feelings you had back into somewhere he couldn’t find. 

Garcia walked over and placed a hand on Spencer’s shoulder. “I just need you both to know, Cat Adams had a miscarriage, but it was months after whatever encounter you had. It’s not your fault. We looked at her records.” She was speaking low for you both, yet both of you let out a quiet sigh of relief. 

“They filled me in on everything that happened between both of you in the past couple years, and they asked me if I would be willing to…help them beat her.” 

Spencer looked up at you, and unlike yourself, every single emotion Spencer was feeling was racing across his face. 

He didn’t like that you knew about everything that had gone down. He was so happy you were okay. He was a little impressed by the way you beat Cat at her own game. He was upset that you put yourself in danger. 

“They gave me an ear piece and everything.” 

Spencer shook his head. “You’re not trained—that’s extremely dangerous of you.” 

You sighed and nodded. “Unfortunately Spencer, this is…this was the life I was used to when we were together. I knew the stakes. I mean the briefings I had with Hotch after you relapsed…” 

Spencer just clammed up and stood a bit straighter. “ I never knew..”

“It was like that on purpose. I didn’t want you to think that you were a burden or too much or—I was doing it for the potential of…” You cut yourself of, flinching at the parallels between this and your previous final conversation. 

You looked over at Garcia. “I need my bag Pen.” You whispered, taking a step away from Spencer. “I shouldn’t…I finished my job. My family is safe…” 

She had a rueful look on her face, but she nodded and took your arm, walking you back over to the desk where your stuff was. 

He looked up at Emily and walked over to her. “I’m…uh. I’m gonna go walk her out and then I’ll be right back.” 

Emily gave him the saddest smile, and just nodded. She knew that nothing she could say could make it any better. 

You grabbed your coat, and your bag, and the two of you walked to the elevator in silence, riding it all the way down to the parking garage, where your car was still there from this afternoon, all of those hours ago. 

You looked over at Spencer, tears in your eyes, having not said anything to him. 

As soon as he met your eyes, you dropped your bag, and Spencer wrapped his arms around you tightly, just holding you and resting his head on yours; trying to give you the comfort that he was rarely able to give you. 

Sobbing into his arms, you just tightly wrapped your arms around his torso and just held onto him tightly. Trying to decompress, trying to truly understand everything that had happened in the past twelve hours. 

It was Spencer who spoke first. 

“I’m so so sorry Y/n.” He whispered. “I never meant any of this to happen to you, and for you to get dragged back here and—” 

You shook your head slightly, but didn’t move from where you were. Neither of you did. 

“It’s what she wanted, Spence, and unfortunately for us, this was always bound to happen.” You whispered. 

The hug felt so good, but something about it was just so different. 

It’s not the way it used to be. 

“I need to go Spencer.” 

He nodded, and this time you moved away from him. His hand came up and wiped away one of the remaining tears on your cheek. 

You closed your eyes, and took a deep breath. 

“Oh fuck, why is this so fucking hard four years later.” You laughed, trying to regain any sort of composure. 

“Y/n…”

You took another step away from him and shook your head. 

“We can’t—I’m not.” You tried so hard to find the right words without bursting into tears again. “Spencer. I cannot put myself back to where I was four years ago. I can’t do it. And yes things have changed, but maybe that is for the better. Maybe you were always meant to be my maybe, and not my always.” 

You took another breath, but kept going. “You are amazing, and funny, and so smart Spence. But this…we ran our course. It didn’t work then, and I don’t know if I have it in me to try again just for it to fail.” 

“Y/n please.” 

“I will always love you but this…It’s time to…It’s time to stop. I have to go back to my life, and you go back upstairs to yours, with Prentiss and Rossi and Penelope and…Max.” 

Both of you winced as you said her name, but you took a step forward, moving to kiss him on the cheek. 

Spencer gently grabbed you face, giving you enough time to back out. 

You didn’t. 

His lips locked with yours, his thumb rubbing against your cheek as the two of you shared one more moment, just for the two of you. 

But it had to end. 

You couldn’t go back to the anxiety, the arguing, the petty disagreements. It wasn’t good for you. It was good for either of you. 

Stepping away again, you gently kissed his cheek, and started to slowly walk to your car. 

Right as you got to your car, you turned around and made eye contact with him one last time before the elevator doors closed, both of you with the most gut wrenching smile slightly plastered across your faces. 

You mouthed goodbye, unable to speak it out loud, and he nodded, tears filling his eyes as he whispered it back to you. 

The doors shut. 

You were all alone in this hollow parking garage. 

Your heart was aching, burning. 

But there was a sigh of relief, that came with the doors closing, and saying goodbye for the last, last time. 

[daydreamerwoah]

Love Through It All Pt. 14

tw: mentions of cheating, mentions of divorce; hurt; angst; anger; rollercoaster of emotion; sadness; arguing; crying; mentions of therapy/counseling; kidnapping; violence; guns; injury; death

Please read Part 1 for my author notes for the beginning of this story if this is your first time here.

For the sake of the story.... let's just pretend that 141 and Laswell worked their magic and Price, Kyle, and Johnny made it just in time lmao! I know that's not how it works in real life :)

You jumped when you heard a loud BANG go off. But it wasn't the sound of Jax's gun that made you jump. It sounded more muffled - more distant - like it was on the other side of the door and down the hallway. You opened your eyes, releasing the breath that you were holding, seeing Simon very much still alive and looking directly at you.

However, the other four men inside of the room turned to the face the door with their guns pointed. Andrei said something in Russian before the two guards walked up to the door. There was a brief pause, as Andrei walked up behind them before one of the men opened it and they left the room.

God, you were fucking scared.

When the sound of multiple gunshots rang outside of the room, you wished you could have been able to cover your ears, the loud popping noises felt like it was deafening you. Surely, you wouldn't be able to hear after that.

In a moment of panic, Jax marched over and stood beside you, pointing his gun at the side of your head. Simon continued to look at you, the chaos not even phasing him. At least on the outside... on the inside, he was worried. Half secretly thanking whatever god there was that Johnny saw the damn text, but half nervous about whose shots were going off.

Then there was silence. Ghostly silence.

The only thing that could be heard were your small sniffles and Jax's heavy breathing. The anticipation of who was about to walk through that door had both you and Simon's pulse racing. But when three sets of footsteps quickly walked in, and you saw three men you instantly recognized, you wanted to let out a scream of happiness. And by the look on your face, Simon knew exactly who walked in, as his back had been facing the door this entire time.

"Let 'em go," Price commanded, his weapon pointed to Jax.

A menacing chuckle left Jax's mouth, "I will shoot her," he said, pushing the barrel of the gun against your temple, making you whimper.

"Let my wife go Jax," Simon said, making the man narrow his eyes at him.

"No," he growled, "You're going to suffer just like we did! All of you! I will kill every single one of you!"

"Then let's talk 'bout it," Johnny chimed in.

Jax threw his head back a little as he laughed, "Talk about it?.. we're done talking. Your nation should have talked about it four years ago! But now..... now you will pay," he quickly glanced at you, holding that evil smirk as always.

The moment his finger tried to pull the trigger, a shot rang out. John's perfect aim successfully pierced a bullet through Jax's head, instantly killing him as his body fell backward to the ground. Simon's body relaxed before Johnny rushed to his friend, cutting the ropes and freeing him, while Kyle ran over to you, doing the same as well as pulling the duct tape off of your mouth.

"You okay?" He asked. But you barely could nod your head.

Your body felt like mush and static at the same time, with the flow of blood finally making its way back into your hands and feet. But that wasn't the only feeling that you had. The second that Simon was kneeling down in front of you, you lurched out of the chair into his arms. You thought you had cried so much that you couldn't produce any more tears, but when his arms wrapped around your waist, you felt so many emotions. The one that topped them all was love.

"I got you, sweetheart. I got you," He said into the crook of your neck.

You couldn't even respond, the only noise coming from you was the slight wailing of cries. It was all too much. And it came crashing down all at once. But you knew one thing... you and Simon made it out alive.

************************************************************************

141 stood in the conference room while Laswell was displayed on the monitor. It was.. strange - talking about a mission that involved you. At least it was for your husband.

Never in a million years did Simon want to talk about such things like death and evilness when it came to you... but there he was, leaning on the wall with his arms crossed over his chest as Laswell explained everything; the truth.

Jax - whose real name was Leonid - had disguised himself as a British soldier in order to obtain access on base. His main goal was to use Pvt Williams as a means to get personal information on certain individuals... including 141. He had no intention of bringing you into the situation.. even when he sent you the videos. He was a young soldier - a pawn in the bigger picture - and at first, he didn't really want to get any civilians involved. (He had somewhat of a heart at least... or he wasn't as much of a killer as he seemed) That was something they had yet to figure out. But it made sense as to why he tried getting you to leave Simon by approaching you with some bullshit story that day.

But when his superior, Andrei, found out that things were taking a little bit longer than planned, he took over the operation, deciding to kidnap you. The only thing Jax almost begged to do was at least make Simon suffer for cheating on you.

But why did all of this happen? Why did they do this?

Because four years earlier, 141 captured their leader. Their commander.

Vladimir Makarov.

They wanted revenge.

"Nolan escaped. He's still out there Laswell," Kyle said.

When the three of them sneaked their way into the building and came in contact with Andrei and the guards, shots rang out, but somehow Andrei Nolan had escaped through the chaos. He was still out there.... and they needed to plan what was going to happen next.

"For now, we need to make sure everythin' is secure," Price said before turning to Simon, "How's Y/n doin'?" He asked.

He nodded, "Fine."

You were, for the most part. After you and Simon were rescued, you were taken to the hospital on base to make sure everything was okay. You kept telling Simon you really didn't need to go, but he insisted you got checked out. Because of the bruising on your wrists and ankles, they decided to keep you overnight for observation. It was ridiculous and you wanted to leave, but with your husband right by your side, it made things easier.

And by your side, he would stay until Price called him for debriefing. He didn't want to leave... he almost told the guys to come to the hospital, but you persuaded him to go and that you'd be fine. So he left.... reluctantly so. But before he did, he made sure the nurses kept an eye on your door. No one was allowed to go in except him or the doctor.

"Talk to her 'bout the plans yeah? Don't wanna risk us losing her again," Price continued.

Again, Simon nodded before leaving and heading right back to the hospital; to you. When he walked into the room, your eyes were closed. The quiet noise from the TV let him know you probably had been watching it before drifting off to sleep. He sat down in the chair next to the bed as he looked at you, eyes glancing down at your wrist. The purple bruises causing a tightening feeling in his stomach.

You were never supposed to be hurt. By him. By Jax. By no one in the world. You were pure - heart and all. Yet you had gone through more pain than he ever imagined. He didn't think he could live with himself if you had been killed.

With a soft sigh, your eyes fluttered open as you looked up at the ceiling, waking up from your dreamless nap. Your eyes shifted and met those of your husbands, a small smile forming on your lips that made his heart lunge out for you.

"Hey," you whispered, "How'd it go?"

His hand reached out to you and grabbed yours softly, his thumb rubbing the knuckles of your hand in comfort, "Fine."

You hummed, eyes grazing over his balaclava. You briefly remembered about the first time you met him. The balaclava intimating you in a curious way.. you were so curious about him; about his life But never were you afraid of him. He tried so hard to keep you at arm's length, even when he was falling for you. And you kept tearing down the shields he wanted so hard to remain between you two.

Nothing could have prepared you for what would happen seven years later. After he proposed. After the wedding. It was difficult to think about it.

"I'm sorry," he lowly said, making your eyes meet his again.

Softly shaking your head, "It's okay Si-"

"No. It's not," He swallowed the lump in his throat, "I ruined everythin'. I hurt you... in more ways than I ever thought I would. I don't deserve you."

His eyes began to water at seeing how yours were starting to. A moment went by as you stared at each other. You didn't know what he was thinking, but you knew how you felt.

"I love you," you said, making his eyebrows furrow a little. It wasn't that he didn't want to hear you say it. He just knew he didn't deserve your love anymore... yet there you were, giving it to him. "I love you so fucking much, Simon. And I always will," You said, making his eyes soften.

"You deserve better than me," He said.

A tear rolled down your cheek as you thought about what you both had become, "But I want to be with you."

It was hard hearing you say that for him. He knew every muscle in his body was telling him to let you go; to bring you peace and happiness. But hearing you say that you wanted to be with him made his stomach flip.

"I promise I'll do whatever you want. I'll make this right sweetheart," He said, his own tear falling from his eye before it disappeared into the cotton material of the balaclava, "I love you."

That small smile turned into a bigger one as you nodded, making a smile form on his own lips - one that you could even see with the crinkle of his eyes. He continued to hold your hand, the two of you sitting in silence and gazing into each other's tearful eyes.

You didn't know what the future would hold for your marriage. You didn't know if things would turn out the opposite of what you just told him. But one thing was for certain... you loved that man with all of you. And that's all that mattered - to love through it all.

THE END.

Well..... that's it for "Love Through It All"... (at least the initial plot). I would like to continue this on as Andrei got away so we don't know what happened after that do we? lol! If you're interested in it, let me know. I also may continue this on over on my AO3 account (I do plan to post this over there as well). And eventually I also may do some edits to the story and change a few things but I'm not sure yet :)I did have some people ask about doing an alternate ending where reader leaves Simon, so sometime this week I do plan to start writing that and post it. I just want to make sure I'm not changing too much to the plot. If you all think I may have left some things out and you want to ask questions about any "behind the scenes" on something in the story, feel free to ask away or message me!

This has been a joy to write and share with you all! I usually start stories and then get bad writer's block to the point where I never finish them, so I'm so glad you all took this journey with me!

I do have two other stories on my AO3 that I started, so I plan to continue them (possibly starting next week I will post a new chapter).

I love you all so much! Take care <3

Taglist: @kalypsoox @fruitymoonbeams-blogz @kylies-love-letter @xrosegoldwolfx @linaaaaa654 @jessicab1991 @darkravenqueen98 @yazyazali @thychuvaluswife @chloeforde @cownini @ssc7514

[2blockseast]

nights like this (logan howlett x gn reader)

summary: plagued by memories of his ex-lover, logan seeks out their counterpart for comfort. author's note: hey y'all, i hope you're all doing well! i've been simmering on this one for awhile but uni has gotten in the way so it took some time to finish. i'm sorry if the ending feels abrupt... i again blame uni for stealing mental energy from me, lol. anyways, i hope you enjoy! please feel free to send requests. i appreciate you all, stay safe! writing is purposefully in all lowercase; mildly proofread. tags: worst!logan, readers gender not mentioned, human reader (both universes), angst, comfort, happy ending word count: 2,275

nights like this

it was another sleepless night for logan. he was laying on the couch in wade’s apartment, staring at the ceiling and begrudgingly focusing on the deep ache in his chest. he felt weighted down both emotionally and physically, and despite his attempts to think of something positive, his mind kept drawing him back into the depths of his own despair. 

he was replaying every horrible thing that he had ever done, the memory of his murderous rampage at the forefront. his memories were horrifyingly vivid, with his the memory of the slaughter being so strong he swore he could smell blood. he could almost feel the slick of the blood against his hands, and he remembered how he had felt the fire within him rage on at the feeling. the ache in his chest only intensified at these memories, and logan began to feel his eyes welling with tears as his mind became further crowded with guilt.

he found himself thinking of you. it was nights like this when he needed your love most. the only mildly positive thing about his ability to recall memories so vividly was that he could remember every little thing about you. he thought about how your skin had felt, how you had smelled, the perfect curve of your jaw, your unwavering kindness, and your beautiful eyes that he had loved to lose himself in. he could feel his chest beginning to ache so much it hurt, but he continued to chase his memory of you despite the discomfort. 

logan had always loved you. in his universe, you had been his sun, moon, and stars. not a moment went by that he didn’t think of you. he would follow you around like a lost puppy, doing anything he possibly could to make you feel loved and appreciated. despite his longstanding rough demeanor, you had found a way to soften him. everyone in the x-mansion loved you in your own right, but they loved your positive impact on logan more. you knew how to read his soul and you encouraged him to be kinder to himself, which, in turn, made him kinder to everyone else. you made him a better man. 

but as much as he loved you, and no matter how much he seemed to improve, he had always loved one thing more: hating himself.

when the x-men had been slaughtered, logan’s anger had surfaced in a way nobody had ever thought possible. he didn’t know what to do with all his misery, so he turned it into rage. the nation had watched his murderous rampage through their televisions, and the worldwide fear of mutants only intensified. if people didn’t feel safe before, they certainly didn’t now. 

you had tried to call him a million times when you saw the news, pleading with him to come to your apartment, begging him to come see you, assuring you everything would be okay if he came home. you knew that the brutality of the x-men’s murders had shaken him to his core and that this anger– this rage– was nothing more than a secondary emotion. you promised him that you would take care of him, that you could get through this pain together– he just had to come home to you. 

logan had seen your myriad of calls. he had read your hundreds of frantic– then loving– then desperate– then comforting– then begging texts. he had thought about calling you, but he knew he would never be able to bring himself to do it. he had sat in the woods, covered in blood, longing to crawl into your bed. he felt jagged, and he ached for your softness. but your opposing personalities were what pained him so deeply. he had committed a horrible crime, and no matter how much he wanted to believe that you meant it when you said you could make everything okay, he knew that you couldn’t. he would have to accept that he had ruined everything. 

in his heart, logan knew that you could ease some of his pain. he knew that seeing you, even for a moment, would bring him some relief. he knew you couldn’t make everything okay, but you would at least bring him some semblance of joy in the wake of his grief. but he also knew that he didn’t deserve it. logan had never thought himself deserving of you in the first place, but now he knew that he definitely wasn’t. not only did he not deserve you, but you didn’t deserve him. you didn’t deserve to be responsible for such a monster of a man.

he had messaged you: “i’m sorry, i can’t do this. i hope things work out for you. i’m sorry” before blocking your number. 

even now, all these years later, after saving the multiverse and finding himself again, he longed for you. he wished he could go back to your apartment and apologize a hundred times over. he would get down on his knees and beg for your forgiveness. he would smile like a schoolboy as he told you about all the great things he had done, how he had redeemed himself. he imagined you holding his face in your hands, gently stroking his stubble as you comforted him. he imagined you telling him that everything was okay, that you had waited for him all these years, that you still had the same books on your shelves, that your bedroom was still decorated the same and you still wore the same fragrance. 

logan was aching for your touch more than he ever had. he considered going to wade for comfort, which he quickly realized was a horrible idea. the only thing that could make him feel better was you. 

logan didn’t know how he felt about the idea that came to him then. 

he thought about wade’s version of you and how you had met when they had just returned from their multiverse-saving adventure. he remembered how his heart skipped a beat when he saw you again, as beautiful as ever. logan had been pining over you since then, but part of him felt guilty for it. he didn’t know if you had ever known earth-10005’s version of logan– the “best” logan, as some might say– but he guessed that you didn’t considering how happy you seemed. you had always been kind to logan, but he couldn’t help but feel that you were slightly disappointed that the version of the wolverine that wade brought back home wasn’t as amazing as the anchor being that had died. 

after your first few interactions, you seemed to start avoiding him. he hoped he hadn’t done something to upset you or drive you away, but wade had told him that you had always been a bit reserved, especially around new people. “just like i remember”, he found himself thinking. his version of you had been reserved before you two had started dating, and he hoped that maybe the same thing was happening now.

he knew that he wasn’t this world’s logan, and you weren’t his world’s you, but he wanted to wrap himself in your arms nonetheless. he considered going to your apartment just to see you, even if just for a second. he didn’t know if it would make him feel better or worse and he felt bad for even thinking about burdening this untainted version of you with his issues, but he couldn’t help himself. he groggily got up from the couch, throwing on sweatpants and a shirt before heading to see you.

—

unsurprisingly, you were surprised to see logan in your doorway so late at night. 

“hey, logan,” you said groggily, a bit flustered. “are you okay?”

he looked at your face in the dim light of your apartment, taking it all in.

“yeah, yeah. i’m good,” he stopped, feeling himself hesitate. he wondered if this was a total douchebag move, waking you up in the middle of the night for his own comfort. deciding he had nothing to lose but sleep, he asked, “can i come inside?”.

you stepped aside, still half-asleep. he came in, looking around as he took his shoes off. his heart warmed at the fact that everything was more-or-less decorated the same. you had the same books, the same houseplants, the same coffee table. he couldn’t stop himself from wondering if you could also have the same feelings for him, considering how similar you were to the you that he had fucked up. 

“is something wrong?” you asked, snapping him out of his thoughts.

“no, nothing's wrong,” he said. “i just needed to… i needed someone”.

flattered that logan had come to you for comfort, you said: “oh, well i hope i can be that someone for you”.

“you always were” he thinks to himself.

“but,” you start, looking a bit dejected. “i have to work tomorrow and i really need to sleep”.

“oh,” logan says, feeling bad that he’s stealing sleep from you. “i don’t need anything special, just being here helps”.

“oh, that makes me happy!” you reply. “how about we just rest together?”

his heart warmed at the thought. seeing the faint blush on his cheeks and feeling his excitement, you giggle and start walking to your bedroom. logan follows, feeling his heart begin to glow at the chance to be close to you. 

throwing back the covers, you settle into your bed. logan looked around your room, decorated just how he remembered. your bed was still snug in the corner of the room, the same desk by the window, the same faint smell of your favorite fragrance lingering in the air. logan felt like he was about to start crying at how happy it made him. he had been in your room a million times, and he could replay every memory you two had shared together here. even though logan had technically lived at the x-mansion, you had always referred to the apartment as as your guys’ home, as if you owned it together. logan had always loved that what was yours was also his. he noticed now that the only things missing from this room were his flannels you had “borrowed”, as well as the photos of the two of you posted on the walls. 

you yawned, patting the space beside you on the bed. 

“are you coming?” you asked.

logan looked at you, laying in your bed in your sleepwear, looking at him expectantly. he nodded, slipping into bed beside you.

you lifted your arm, inviting him to rest his head on your chest, and logan’s heart skipped a beat. you had always been kind to him, but you had never been affectionate like this. he wondered if you were being so inviting because you genuinely liked him or if you were just too tired to be closed off. either way, he nestled himself beside you, pulling up the covers.

you rested your hand on top of his head, slowly breathing in and out. he could hear your heartbeat, gentle and consistent. he closed his eyes, soaking up the purity of this moment.

“i know you need to sleep,” he said, breathing out. “but can i ask you a question?”

you giggled, chest rising. “sure, logan”

“did you ever know this world’s wolverine?”

you stopped for a moment, looking at the ceiling contemplatively. 

“no, i didn’t,” you replied. “it would have been cool, though. why do you ask?”

“just curious,” he said. he couldn’t tell if knowing that made him feel better or worse– at least you couldn’t compare him to the honorable anchor being that had passed.

“did you ever know your world’s me?” you giggled. logan could tell you meant it as a joke, you didn’t expect him to have ever known you. 

“funnily enough, i did” he replied, squeezing his eyes shut in anticipation. his heart rate increased and he hoped this wouldn’t ruin the moment– he didn’t want you thinking he was only there to pretend you were his version of you. he liked both versions of you, and he wasn’t in your bed to live in the world as he wanted it to be. he knew you were your own unique person, even if you were similar to the you he had loved.

“oh,” you said, surprised. monotone, you added: “that’s cool.” 

logan tensed again. he couldn’t tell if you had replied monotone because you were too tired to be expressive or if you were preparing yourself to kick him out.

“what was i like?” you asked, surprising him. your fingers began running through his hair and he leaned into the familiar sensation.

“you were awesome, just like you are now,” he breathed out. “you lived in this same apartment… at least when i knew you”

“why did you stop knowing me?”

logan thought for a second.

“i did some bad stuff… cut you off. i hadn’t seen you in, i don’t know, five years?”

“oh,” you said quietly. your breath hitched as you worked up the confidence to say: “i don’t know if this is weird, but… what were we?”

logan’s breath hitched. “lovers, i guess”

you hummed. “i bet we were nice”

logan let out a low, pained laugh. “we were really nice”

“y’know,” you started after a long silence, hesitating. “i think we could be nice now, too”

logan froze, surprised. “y'think?”

“yeah,” you said, smiling. “i think that with time, we could be very, very nice… if you’re up to try”

“i would love to try,”  logan smiled. “i would try with you a million times”

you hummed, content with his answer. “i think i would like that”

logan relaxed, settling into your side. he breathed a sigh of relief, reveling in the warm feeling of your affection. he drifted to sleep, the memories that plagued him replaced with the new, softer memory of getting to love you once again.

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

You Call It Madness But I Call It Love

Chapter 26: I Hate You, I Love You

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV, Soldier Boy POV

Summary: When the reader left Payback 40 years ago after a falling out with her childhood best friend she never looked back, but when two men show up to her apartment and start asking her questions about the past, the reader begins to think those things can’t stay hidden and starts to question what’s real and what’s fantasy.  This is a re-telling of The Boys Season 3, where the reader is a supe who's known Soldier Boy since 1927. The chapters will fluctuate between past and present. This is chapter twenty-six of my "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love" series. (I'm so bad at summaries please forgive me!)

Word Count: 8.3K

Warnings:  I'm gonna label this one 18+ because it's Soldier Boy. , Angst, Cursing, Sexual References, Family Problems- A LOT of family problems, Past Trauma, Death Mentioned, Self Deprecating Thoughts, Blood mentioned. Soldier Boy might be, is, really, absolutely, completely a little OOC. Soldier Boy is really all you need as a warning.

Note: This is told from the Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. Reader is described as "curvy" occasionally. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal Monologue is in first person and is in italics

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

A/n: I know that this isn't the final battle, but I wrote most of the battle and the chapter was so long (it was over 13K and I wasn't close to ready) that I needed to break it up. So now this is just a wonderful helping of angst in which the reader and Ben do the thing that they do best… fight with each other and then make up.

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READER POV

The silence that follows Homelander's disappearance with Lou and Rosemary's pursuit after him is deafening. It feels like hours have passed, but it's only been seconds. You feel cold and hot, nothing and everything. Fear, anger, anxiety, and terror all congeal into an ice cold ball in the pit of your stomach. Rubble is covering the thick shag carpet on the bedroom floor, the air filled with flecks of dust and drywall from Homelander's departure. You weren't thinking about how Legend would react though, couldn't think of anything else except the fearful look on Lou's face when Homelander grabbed her and refused to release her.

The thought that Lou was trapped with someone like him broke you. The fear that came with the thought was almost mind-numbing, because Homelander was dangerous and now that Ben and you had told him that you didn't want anything to do with him, there were no other bargaining chips. Homelander couldn't be placated because you had crushed the glimmer of hope in his eyes by telling him that he wasn't your son and that he was monster. You knew that Homelander was smart enough that he wouldn't believe you now if you promised him family, not when he had Lou and probably had Rosemary.

Rosemary had minimal training when it came to fighting, yes you'd made sure that she knew the basics of self-defense, but she'd never fought another supe before. She was never interested in that sort of thing. And it wasn't always about using your powers when it came to fighting another supe, it was about tactics and knowing the weaknesses of your opponent. In a fight with someone like Homelander, you couldn't just rely on your abilities, you had to understand what you were up against and see the little ticks that he tried to hide. You'd watched stronger supes fall because they relied too heavily on their abilities, and you worried that Rosemary would be the same way. That she would be filled with a blind rage because Homelander had Lou and that he would use her anger and frustration to his advantage.

Tears were streaming down your face and you were still struggling in Ben's grip, where his arms were wrapped around you, holding you back from chasing after them. And the longer he holds you, as more seconds tick by, everything else goes and you're left with something else.

To say that you were angry was an understatement, you were livid. You hated that Ben had done this to you again. That once again Ben was acting like you weren't a supe, like you weren't powerful, and like you needed to be locked away from the world in a glass cabinet. You were sick of it.

Because you understood that Ben loved you, that he wished to protect you and that he feared losing you, but you refused to allow him to walk on eggshells around you and put you in a glass bubble because of his insecurities.

Yes Ben had told you that he saw your strength in the past, that he saw how powerful you were, and only wished for you to need him, but you were done with this. He didn't have any right to do it. And yes, he was the man you loved, but he was not your master. Perhaps that's what made all this worse for you, that Ben said how much he loved you and that he saw your power, but every time things went South he did shit like this.

"Ben, let me go." You growl, turning your head to look over your shoulder.

"No. Not until you promise not to go after them." Ben's eyes are narrowed. He knew that if you promised him, you wouldn't do it, that you cared too much about what a promise represented to break one.

It was true, which was why you weren't going to promise him shit.

"I won't promise that."

"Then I guess I'm not letting you go." He says it casually, but the look in his eyes is meant to convey that he is just as upset with this turn of events as you are.

"Oh I think you fucking will." Your teeth clench together and as you say it, you turn your palms face down in front of you and break his hold. Having Homelander's strength made it easier to face Ben. In the past the two of you had sparred together in training. Back then you didn't think too much about it, but now you understood that he did it to make sure you knew how to protect yourself when he wasn't there, that he worried about you more than he wanted to say and that was the only way he could prepare you without telling you how much you meant to him.

Ben stumbles back a step, his eyes flashing with anger and you’re sure that he can see the same emotions written on your face.

“What the fuck is your problem?” You snarl at him.

“My problem?” Ben sputters.

“Yes!”

“What the fuck are you talking about? If anything it’s you that’s having a problem-“

“Oh I’m sorry Benjamin. Am I being difficult?" You press a hand to your chest feigning remorse. "Forgive me for having a fucking problem when our granddaughter has just been KIDNAPPED by a psychopath. And our daughter is going to face him alone!"

"She's not alone-"

"Wrong. She is alone, because you wouldn't let me help her."

"I told you that I didn't want you to fight him alone. I told you that we would do this together-"

"I wouldn't have been alone if you'd stop being so damn overprotective!" You snap, stomping over to the chest of drawers, searching through them angrily for something to wear. It was difficult not to rip the handle off the front in your anger. You were still wearing your sweatpants and an oversized paint splattered t-shirt, and the last thing you wanted was to face Homelander looking like that.

Why can't he just understand that I am powerful too? Why can’t he let me go for once? Why does he keep doing this?

You hated that he was acting like you couldn't handle yourself, especially after he had seen you destroy Legend's backyard single handedly the other day with your mind. You were so sick of being underestimated. First Vought, then Stan, and now Ben, and you didn't want to be seen that way anymore. You were powerful and damnit you weren't going to "sit" and "stay" because some man ordered you to.

"I am not being overprotective!" Ben's voice is a low growl. "The other day I told you that I didn't want you to do this by yourself, that I didn't want you to do any of this alone. That I'm here-"

"Well congratulations Ben! Our daughter is doing exactly that right now, facing fucking Homelander alone, because you couldn't just let me go." You grab the end of your shirt and take it off, shucking it to the floor before you begin to put on the tight long sleeved black t-shirt. "You always do this."

"Do what?"

"Underestimate me!" You take off the sweatpants and quickly step into the dark jeans. By now your eyes were flashing bright purple and you could feel the thrum of your abilities under your skin, begging to be released. The energy was growing with each passing second, the lights in the room flickered and you could feel an unnatural breeze rustling the curtains that were hanging from the windows, coming from you.

"I do not fucking underestimate you. I know how powerful you are-"

"Well you have a funny way of showing it." You spit turning around to face him again.

Ben is also getting dressed. His sweatpants have been replaced with the bottom portion of his supe suit, his knife, pistol, and top half of his suit is laying on the unmade bed. "We have already talked about why I have a problem with you doing shit like that alone." His words are almost a growl, but you can hear an emotion on the edge of them that isn't anger. It was worry.

You knew what he was referring to, when he told you that he hated watching you die because it made him feel like he'd failed to protect you, that every time you were hurt, Ben struggled with that.

You knew how he felt.

The other day at Herogasm when Homelander had him by the throat all you saw was red. You didn't want to witness Ben's last moments just as he had witnessed yours multiple times. But it didn’t mean that you held Ben back from doing what he needed to do. You saw his strength and supported him. All you wanted was for him to support you.

A part of you deep down registered that he acted like this to protect you, that he didn't want to lose you as much as you didn't want to lose him. And as happy as you were that Ben was finally getting comfortable showing and talking about his emotions in front of you, you still wished that he would let you be strong for yourself. You had to be strong without him for forty years, protecting Rosemary and Lou.

Does he really think that Stan and Countess are the only people who I've killed in the past forty years? That there haven't been other people and supes that figured it out? Did Homelander really think that Stormfront's death was a suicide? 

"You let me face the twins!" You shout.

"Those incestuous fucks couldn't handle you when they were full powered, let alone when they were dried out." Ben states pulling his shirt over his head.

"I don't understand why Homelander is any different." You cross the room to grab the long dark green leaver overcoat, the same one that Ben had scraped the blood and bits of flesh off when you returned to Legend's after you killed Stan. "You saw me handle him the other day-"

"Because he is different!" Ben practically stabs his knife down into it's holster on his belt.

"Oh really?" You tap your lip as if deep in thought. "Huh. Because I remember you calling him a pussy when you were thinking about killing him. When you told me that Butcher asked you to."

"He is." Ben's eyes are blazing now.

Your sarcasm always did that to him, and it did tend to rear it's ugly head in the most inopportune moments. In all the years you'd known him, Ben never really did like it when you got like that.

The room was quickly heating with the force of Ben’s anger, a slight glow radiating out from his chest, but Ben was keeping it under control. At least for now.

"Oh, so he is a pussy, but not when I have to fight him?"

"Yes." He seethes through clenched teeth.

"I hate to break this to you Benjamin, but of the two of us, I'm the one who has fought him and kicked his fucking ass." You spit back at him, sick of his attitude.

Ben crosses the room in two heavy strides so that he's standing over you, his hands on his hips. "The only reason why you fucking fought him, was because you felt the need to step in when I had him handled."

"Did you have him handled? Could have fooled me. When someone has you by the throat I find it hard to say that you have a handle on the situation!" You mirror his stance, refusing to back down.

"Don't fucking do that."

"Do what?"

"Be sarcastic! You know that I hate it."

"That's just too damn bad!" You snap. "I'm not your dog Benjamin  you cannot tell me what to do."

"I do not treat you like a damn dog. I will say that you're being bitchy." His teeth are grinding together, so hard that you can audibly hear it.

"Well excuse the fuck out of me! I think I'm allowed to be bitchy," You seethe the word. "Because you're acting like a sexist dick!"

"I am not-"

"Yes you are." You poke your finger into his chest. "And I don’t want you to come with me."

"Like fucking hell I'm going to sit here and wait around for you to come back."

"I don't want you to come with me because I don't want to spend the whole fucking time worried that you're going to get in my fucking way and prevent me from doing what I have to do."

"I do not get in your way." Ben roars.

"Yes you do." Your eyes narrow. "And I don't need some "big strong man" to do things for me!" You make air quotes around 'big strong man' to emphasize the point, but Ben was not getting it.

This was one of the worst fights you'd ever had with him, you knew that. The two of you had many over the years, Legend was not lying when he told Butcher that, but this one was quickly nearing the same magnitude as the fight the two of you had the night of the premiere. This was more than just the two of you going through the motions of being frustrated with one another and more than the two of you shouting over a little problem, this was about Ben's continuous need to hold you back and keep you out of harms way like you weren't a supe and perfectly capable of doing thing by yourself.

"All I do is try to protect you." His eyes are dark now, not a trace of green in them, looking more like darkened pits. When Ben was really angry you'd seen them go that dark before, only the night of the premiere had you seen them like that when he looked at you, all the other times you'd seen that look when he felt the need to put someone in their place, to beat them into submission.

"I don't need you to protect me!" It comes out in one breath, uttered in an exasperated tone, because again Ben just didn't understand.

Ben stops. "You don't need me?" The words aren't in the same harsh tone that he used before, it's softer, and the anger in his eyes shifts to something else for just a moment.

You could feel regret swirling in your chest, because you did need Ben. You needed him more than life itself, didn't want to spend a moment away from him. You hadn't meant to say it like that. And you know that it was something Ben struggled with, the idea that you didn't need him anymore or never did need him.

"No. Ben, I do fucking need you, but I don't need you to protect me all the time." You emphasize with a sigh. "I've changed. I'm not the same person I was in Philadelphia. I'm not the same little girl. I've been taking care of myself and Rosemary and Lou for years. I needed to change and so I did."

Ben still looks like he can't fully understand what you're trying to say.

"Ben do you really think that Stan is the only person that I've killed in the past forty years?"

Ben blinks surprised.

"There have been others. People who asked too many questions. Supes that just didn't believe the lie that Stan and I made up." You sigh. You weren't ashamed of that, weren't ashamed of the things you had to do to keep your daughter and your granddaughter safe. "You think that every death leaves a scar, but not always." You murmur remembering the fight with Stormfront, the one you never talked about. When she showed up on your doorstep and threatened you and Rosemary. And the others who threatened you, tried to blackmail you because they didn't fear you the way they should have. Stormfront had expected the same woman she knew from the past, but you weren't her anymore.

"What do you mean there have been others?" Ben's expression hardens, malice swimming in his eyes when he realizes that other people have hurt you.

Flashes of the past come creeping up, years you spent with Ben and the cold ones that you'd spent without him stumbling around like someone trying to find light when they were buried underground. And you did love him, but you hated that he did this, because every time he did it made you feel small, it made you feel again like he didn't see you or comprehend who you were.

"They don't matter now." You sigh. "But I am not something to be possessed. I am not someone who’s going to hang on your arm make you look good and laugh at all your jokes. I am not something to be controlled or shielded from the world. If I wanted to just be a trophy or a doll for someone to use any way they wished I would have stayed and married Howard. But I didn’t. I came with you, but I never imagined that you would treat me that way. I never imagined that you would treat me like he did.”

Ben looks stunned. He should. In all the years you’d known him you’d never compared him to Howard like that. It was a low blow and you knew it, but you were pissed. It hurt you to say the words, hurt you to open up that wound all over again, but it was the truth. You didn't lie to Ben and you weren't going to start now.

The words ring through the air between the two of you, the space between your bodies suddenly miles apart even though you were standing in the same room. It was the first time you'd ever felt that distance with him, not since the night he came to your apartment the night that he almost killed Noir and after the two of you talked you cried in the shower frustrated and angry with yourself because you couldn't tell him how you felt and upset that he didn't love you the way you loved him. And now you were just as frustrated and angry with him.

Ben opens his mouth to answer you, the look in his eyes heartbreaking.

"What the fuck happened in here?" Butcher shouts stumbling down the stairs and into the room. He looks disheveled, like he just rolled out of bed.

"Homelander." Your gaze leaves Ben. "He took Lou, Rosemary went after him."

"He took Lou?" Hughie sputters from behind Butcher, fear flitting through his eyes.

It was the same fear that had begun to trickle back in after the fight you just had, but the things that Ben and you had yelled at one another were still there, soaking through the air like a foul odor and seeping in to your heart. You weren't sure if it meant that you could come back from it or not.

"Yeah." Ben grunts.

"Then lets go get her." Butcher says. "Come on." He gestures with his hand and begins to trek up the stairs with Hughie in tow, leaving Ben and you in the bedroom alone once more.

But this time you can't say anything, can't bring yourself to apologize because you're still so damn mad, and so instead you follow after Butcher, without giving Ben a backwards glance.

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SOLDIER BOY POV

The car smoothly followed the long stretch of highway under Butcher’s hand, the trees along the road flashing by in a green blur, but it still didn’t seem like it was going fast enough.

It had taken Butcher and Hughie ten minutes to get ready after they stumbled downstairs to where Ben and you were and now the four of you were on the road and driving to New York. Hughie and Butcher were in the front seat while Ben and you sat in the back, but unlike the other day when you drove to Herogasm together, you were sitting on the other side of the car, arms crossed over your chest staring out the window, and not touching him at all.

Ben's jaw clenched when he remembered the day you drove together to Herogasm, when he held your hand and you leaned into his shoulder, reveling in the fact that you wanted him there with you.

And he wasn't sure that you still did. As much as he hated to admit it, that scared him. He didn't know where he should be if he wasn't with you. Everything else felt wrong. To be without you was like being without the sun, living in the deepest darkest cave and refusing to see the light.

That being said, Ben knew you were pissed, he was too.

Watching Homelander take Lou all but ripped him in half. He hated that the pussy had used a fucking child as a shield and hated that he had gotten away with it. Ben felt his body tense when he remembered the fear in Lou's eyes and a jolt of white hot rage burns through him at the thought that Homelander was hurting her.

Ben cared about Lou as much as he cared about you. She loved him and always made him feel welcome, and even though Rosemary never did, he was worried about her too. Maybe it was because he saw how much it hurt you for them to go, for Homelander to take Lou and for Rosemary to race after him. He knew that was your worst fear, but that didn't stop Ben from holding you back, for refusing to let you go alone to a place that Ben couldn't follow.

He'd never resented his abilities before, but he suddenly wished that he could fly. He would have soared after Homelander, after Rosemary, and after you if you had followed behind them.  That was why he had held you back though, because he couldn’t and he was scared.

The word felt like a curse to think, but it was true. Ben knew that it was fear coursing through his veins in those few moments when he realized that you were going to go after Homelander and he wouldn't be able to follow. He didn’t want you to face him alone, didn’t want to watch you die again.  After all these years, each time you died he feared that it would be the last, he feared that it would be the time it stuck and that he would be left all alone. He didn't want to live in a world without you, he'd done that for forty years and he was done with that.

Ben believed that it was his job to be there for you and after forty years of him being away, he wanted to be there to help you and take care of you. He was ready to make up for the lost time and he had told you how he felt the other day when you destroyed Legend's backyard, that he wanted the two of you to do this together.

That was before today.

Ben's hands are curled into fists on his lap as he forces himself to look out his own side of the car, refusing to look at you. If you could do the silent treatment he could too. Of all the fights the two of you had in the past, Ben knew this one was worse or at least it was as bad as when he fucked up, fucked Countess and then pushed you away when all he wanted was to bring you closer.

Honestly, you'd never compared him to Howard before. Ben could still remember the words you uttered to him the night of your birthday before you allowed him to take you to bed:

"Don't be jealous of Howard. He meant nothing to me. No one means as much to me as you do Ben."

Ben remembered the way you'd smiled up at him when you said it cheeks slightly flushed, lips red from when he kissed you.  He remembered the way he felt like he'd swallowed pure sunshine, because that was what you always did to him. You always made him feel like he was the only person in the world that was allowed to see the real you. He knew that you loved him, knew that he loved you more than life itself, but what you'd yelled him before Butcher came downstairs made him feel like taking a two by four to the chest. It hurt him.

He hated what you said to him, that you compared him to that asshole from back home. Ben wished for nothing more than to wipe the memories of that man from your mind. When you were younger sometimes Ben would see Howard and you sitting in the park or getting lunch. He remembered the way that you never seemed to smile as wide, how small you looked, how Howard liked you better in the gowns that your mother chose for you, how Howard liked you silent, and how Howard preferred your body covered in heavy coats even though it was the middle of summer.

That particular thing always pissed Ben off, because he knew how you struggled with that, struggled with the way you looked and Ben hated that someone else who stated they loved you made you feel small and ugly, when you were the most beautiful woman that Ben had ever seen in his life.

Ben hated Howard with a passion for that exact reason, because Howard did try to control you. He chose what you wore, complained about what you ate, discouraged your art, and did other unspeakable things that you had told Ben over the years. Things that made Ben want to go back to Philadelphia and end Howard’s bloodline.

But sometimes on the nights when Ben was away at boarding school and he couldn't sleep he would think of Howard and you. Ben would never admit this to anyone, but he would compare himself to Howard, try to find the little differences that Ben thought made you like Howard, the differences that Ben thought about doing himself to make you love him the way he loved you. It always made him feel like a fucking pussy though. His father probably would have beat him within an inch of his life if his father knew that Ben was comparing himself to another man. It was something that Ben's father ingrained in him, that Ben's was from a strong, proud, family that never did that. And that a real man knew that he was better than everyone else, and if anyone tried to challenge that then it was best settled in the ring.

Ben sighed. He was trying hard to weed out the toxic things his father told him. You helped immensely with that, by letting Ben know that he didn’t have to be strong all the time and didn’t need to keep everything inside, that he didn't have to hide what he was feeling from you.

He loved that about you, that he felt like he never had to hide who he really was, that you saw all the parts of him he locked away for so long from everyone else and didn't care. And in exchange he got to see all the wonderful things about you and he didn't want to trade that for the world.

Even though he was angry with everything the two of you shouted, he still loved you.

You were just so damn stubborn all the time and never wanted to see things the way I do and-

Ben gritted his teeth together as another wave of annoyance came over him. He really did hate how stubborn you were. Probably because you were just as stubborn as he was and that meant the two of you were often at a stalemate.

Ben glanced over to where you were looking out the window. You were frowning, arms crossed tightly over your chest, leaning back against the cloth seats.

The awkward silence in the car was palpable and Ben knew that Hughie and Butcher were also trying not to notice the tension in the backseat. There was a song playing on the radio that Ben didn't recognize, but Hughie kept bobbing his head along to the music while Butcher's hands tighten on the wheel.

Ben's eyes flick back to where you are staring out the window. He wanted desperately to know what you were thinking. Honestly he'd rather the two of you be yelling at one another than you give him the silent treatment. At least then he had some semblance of what was going on in your head. Ben knew you better than anyone, which meant that he was usually good at reading you, but not now.

Even Ben could admit to himself that you'd changed some, you were a little harder than you had been when he knew you, but it didn't make him love you any less. He had been shocked at your revelation that you'd killed other people. Ben was trying to ignore what you'd said about not all deaths leaving scars.

He'd been present for most of the ones that had happened in the past, but he wondered how many others there had been, and what other powers you had maybe acquired. That  was the thing about you, you weren't one to brag, never seemed to need to use as many powers to take someone down.

Your arms tighten around your body and Ben watches a single tear roll down your cheek.

Fuck. He thinks to himself. He really didn't want to be the reason why you're crying. He had been the main reason for so long and he hated that, he hated making you cry and hated when you cried in general. If you weren't so mad at him he would have unbuckled your seat belt and pulled you over onto his lap so he could hold you close and make you feel better, but he wasn't sure you wanted that, still wanted him.

The thought that you didn't made him feel like he was sinking into the sea, that the sun was slowly being sucked away while he's dragged under into the depths. Ben didn't know who he was without you, didn't know where he would go, and certainly didn't know what his purpose was if he wasn't in your life.

Before he can stop himself he reaches out to touch your arm, but you flinch away from him, still looking out the window and not turning to him.

Ben fights the urge to make you talk to him, and drops his hand back down to his thigh, curling it into a fist again. Ben felt something in his chest that was unfamiliar when you didn't let him touch you. He wasn't sure if it was fear or anger or frustration but it was there, simmering underneath the skin.

It reminded him too much of when he came back you didn't let him touch you, didn't want him anywhere near you. He didn't want to admit how much he relied on that, you touching him, not just sexually. The little touches you gave him on the back of his hand to comfort him when you knew he was anxious, or the brace of your hand against his shoulder or back when he was sitting down to reassure him that you were with him and that you weren't going anywhere or the moments you adjusted his collar when it was facing the wrong way, or smoothed a wrinkle at the front of his shirt or even just running your fingers through his hair the way you knew he liked, Ben lived for them, for all those little moments.

No one else had ever tried to touch him that way before, with comfort and love.

Even when you were children, the hugs you gave him when you saw him made everything else seem colorless in comparison. When he came back to you and you refused to let him touch you he was afraid you never would again and when you began to touch him again he felt like he’d ascended to another plane, but now your refusal for him to touch your elbow or even take your hand worried him.

He did not believe that he could survive without something as simple as that.

But all of that just solidified the one thing that Ben knew deep down, had known since the moment he realized how much you meant to him, that you were his one weakness, his fatal flaw, the one thing in his life that he couldn’t live without. He didn’t want to imagine that world existed because he couldn't survive without you.

That was why he didn't want you to fight Homelander alone. It wasn't because he didn't see how strong you were, it was that he was so afraid that he was going to lose you that he couldn't control himself.

He hated admitting that even to you, but now he knew he had to, because he knew his pride wasn't worth losing you.

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READER POV

After the most awkward car ride in history, you were ready to get out and kick some ass. Despite Butcher's accelerated driving it had taken five hours to get back to the city from Legend's due to traffic and the whole time you were especially aware of Ben's presence. His brooding was practically audible from the other side of the car where he sulked and refused to look at you. You figured that just as he did the silent treatment you could too, but it didn't make it any easier.

Frankly nothing made any of this easy.

You were frustrated by this turn of events, that Homelander had done the one thing that you feared more than anything else in the world, the one thing that you had tried to prevent from happening your entire life, but he had.

But as upset as you were and worried about Lou and Rosemary, you were upset with yourself over what you had said to Ben. You hadn't meant to mention Howard, it was a low blow and you knew how much he hated the time you spent with Howard. You knew that Ben struggled with the thought that you possibly loved Howard more than you loved him and the  possibility that you regretted spending your life with Ben rather than him. And you knew that it hurt him as much as the moments you watched him with other women over the years.

You didn't want Howard, never wanted Howard, never felt anything for him, and for Ben you felt everything. Sometimes you were afraid to show Ben just how much you felt for him, feared that it would make him push you away when he realized just how much you needed him. In the forty years you spent away from him you tried to convince yourself that you didn't, but having him back was like everything coming back in color from black and white. But at the same time you were still a little angry, angry with him for holding you back when you knew you could have taken Homelander down yourself.

Because in your heart you knew that was what Howard did to you. Not that he held you back from fighting a psychopathic supe, but that Howard never saw you more as a possession, a jewel in a crown adorned on his lofty head, nothing more than something to parade around Philadelphia. That's why it was so different for you when you were with Ben, because Ben saw you, he never covered you up with heavy cloaks, he never discouraged your love of art, he never bored you or made you feel like your opinion wasn't important. Ben made you feel alive, and Howard? Howard made you feel like the empty husk of what you used to be.

You press your lips together in a tight line as Butcher pulls up the seat so you can get out of the backseat and set foot on solid ground. Hughie had been left behind at a gas station, and yes you hated that Butcher had done that, but at the same time you were relieved. You didn't want him to get hurt. You still believed that Hughie was different than you, not that he was innocent, but he wasn't jaded or hardened the way you had to be to survive.

Your gaze lifts to look up at the towering skyscraper that rises from the earth like a proud oak tree on a hill. Vought tower looks the same way it always has, bold and haughty like the men who founded the company all those years ago. The setting sun glints off the glass windows like the last glimmer of summer, something to be grasped before the cold of winter comes to take it all away.

You'd stood here looking up at the building before, watched the lights turn off and on, watched the people go in and out of the building, and had crossed the threshold a handful of times. The final time was to deliver last rights to your good friend Liberty.

She, like a few others, hadn't believed your story and had shown up to speak with you. But unlike the others, her methods of finding out if you were still you was to try to kill you. She had succeeded and then left stating that she would "be back to catch up." When you'd gone to Vought to find her, you hadn't been expecting her to look the way she did, half burned and laying in a hospital bed. You didn't know why she looked that way. It had been odd to stand there over her, odd to remember the person she used to be, proud and powerful and then look at the broken body that laid there. Her death had been a necessary evil, the only time you ever stepped foot in Vought Tower in the last forty years, but if it was to protect your family it was worth it to you.

Your frown grows the longer you stand there underneath the ominous glow that emanates from inside, anxiety prickling along your skin like the spines of a cactus. You couldn't remember the last time you felt this way, just that you didn't want to feel this way ever again. The building was a symbol of everything you hated, and you vowed deep down to destroy Vought and send it to hell where it belonged and make those who were responsible for Vought's success pay.

You think about the other day in Legend's backyard, when Ben pulled you back from the darkened pit and back into the light, when Ben told you that he didn't want you to do it alone, that he wanted to be there for you, and when he promised you again that he wasn't leaving and that he wanted you to give him all your burdens.

Yes he wants to be there for me, I get it, I GET IT. You sigh in frustration. I understand that he loves me and that he wants to protect me, but I wish he would just-

"Y/n?" Ben says from behind you. His voice is quiet, reserved, but you know that he's probably just as upset as you are.

You turn and glance up at him. Ben hadn't tried to touch you since you shifted away from him in the car. It hurt you to do that to him, to pull away from his touch when all you wanted was for him to comfort you. The night he came back to you, you hadn't lied when you said that he might have been the one who hurt you, but he was the only person you wanted to comfort you. That was the hard thing about loving him and him being your best friend. It was difficult to draw the line in the sand, to separate the two.

The feeling was normal. It was the same one you had when he broke your heart. You had hated him then too, but he was still the only person you had and the longer you stayed in bed running over the years you spent with him, the more you wished that he was with you. The only person that you wanted to comfort you and care for you even after everything that he had done and yelled at you at the premiere, was Ben.

Sometimes it scared you how much you relied on his touch, how much you needed just a comforting hand on your arm, or for him to tuck your hair behind your ear or for him to kiss you or for him to hold you while you slept. You didn't realize how much you needed it, how much you craved it until he came back and you allowed him to touch you again.

In the car you had been trying not to cry, but everything was building, your frustration with Ben over the conversation the two of you had, fear over what would happen to Lou and Rosemary, and red hot anger directed at Homelander. A single tear had slipped and when Ben had tried to comfort you, you pulled away from him.

Fuck.

You hadn't wanted to. You'd wanted to curl up against him and let him make you feel better, but you were still angry with him for holding you back.

The words you yelled at him momentarily ring in your ears. It wasn't just that you compared him to Howard, it was you told him you didn't need him to protect you. But you knew Ben better than anyone and you knew that he was probably circling the drain and thinking that you basically told him that you "didn't need him" when you did.

"Yeah?" You clear your throat. It was difficult to look at him, not when you were so close to just breaking down and telling him that you were sorry. You knew that you needed to be focused on what was about to happen, but you couldn't, not when things were like this between the two of you. You hated fighting with him.

Ben's gaze drifts to where Butcher is staring expectantly at you.

"Give us a minute." Ben says to him.

"Why?"

"Just give us a fucking minute." Ben snaps, obviously annoyed, but you knew that he was probably upset about the fight the two of you had and he was projecting that anger onto Butcher.

"Fine. I’ll clear the lobby. Don’t take too long." Butcher frowns, but turns and stalks up the front steps of the building.

You turn back to look at him, unable to stop the sarcastic comment from building. Because yes, you wanted to forgive him, but at the same time you were still frustrated with him. "What? Are you gonna lock me in the car? Or are you going to tell me again how you don’t want me to fight him?"

"No." Ben growls.

"Then why-"

"Because I don’t want it to be like this." Anger lurks on the edge of his words, but at the same time you can hear something else in his voice, something that sounds a little broken. And it makes your heart clench in you chest.

"You don’t want what to be like this?" You ask confused.

"I don’t want us to go in there angry at each other." He continues.

"Why not?"

"Because I-" Ben stops, his jaw tightening for a moment, before he sighs. "I hate it when you’re mad at me. When you don't let me-" He swallows and you watch his eyes drop to your hand for a moment and you understand what he's saying.

That he hates it when you don't let him touch you. You hated it too.

"You think I like being mad at you?" You whisper, fingers itching to touch his cheek, to push back the dark hair that has fallen forward into his eyes.

"No." He breathes.

You stand there for a moment, letting the silence fill the space between you. The sounds of the city rising around you, the sound of traffic, vendors downtown, and the smell of the pretzel stand around the corner are everywhere. There aren't as many people on the streets now, but you know that it's only a matter of time before someone recognizes Ben in his uniform.

You sigh as you look up at him. Despite the uniform there's a vulnerability in his eyes that you can't shake and you understand how much it must have hurt him too.

“I don’t like it when you’re mad at me either.” You reply.

"I don’t like being mad at you." Ben exhales heavily. "And I don't want it to be like this before we go in. If something happens I-" He stops talking. "I don't want our last conversation to be like that."

"What do you mean you don't want our last conversation to be like that?" This time you can't help, but take his hand and Ben physically relaxes as you do, squeezing your hand back just as tightly.

"If this doesn't work out, if-" His jaw locks and he drops his eyes from yours. "I can't lose you."

"Ben." You whisper and this time you can't help but hug him, pull him close to comfort him. Your arms go up around the back of his neck, burying your face into the hollow of his throat. "You're not going to lose me. Everything is going to be fine." Ben's body immediately curves around you, arms holding you against him so tight it's almost painful, like he thinks you'll never allow him to do this ever again.

"I'm not strong enough for that y/n-" He whispers it so low that you're not sure he meant for you to hear it. "I can't-"

"Shh." You breathe, moving your hands into his hair, smoothing down the unruly strands at the back of his head. "I promise you're not going to lose me." You pull back to look him in the eye. "But I want you to treat me like an equal, like you see my power-“

“I do.”

“No you don’t, because if you did you wouldn’t hold me back all the time.”

“I’m trying not to, but-“ Ben sighs leaning forward into you. “You said it’s your job to take care of me, well it’s my job to protect you.” His expression hardens. “And I failed before.”

“What happened to me was not your fault.”

“I should have been there. I shouldn't have left you for a second-"

“Just like I should have been there in Nicaragua." You whisper back, with a sorrowful sigh. "Just like I should have asked more questions, should have made sure that you were really gone. Then you wouldn’t have had to be in that lab, you wouldn't have been alone-"

“That’s not your fault.” Ben's forehead is against yours now. "Please don't feel bad about that."

“It doesn’t matter if it was my fault or not. I should have been there for you. I will forever feel guilty that I didn’t come for you sooner and that you had to endure that for forty years.” You drop your eyes to his chest.

“Then I’ll forever feel guilty for the way I treated you.” Ben replies.

"I don't want you to." Your gaze rises to his once more, locking with his deep green eyes.

It was true. You could still remember what he said to you, remember what he did, but he was here now and he was doing everything right to make you forget. He was being so different and working so hard to make up for the past that you didn't feel the prick of pain with the memories that you used to.

"And I don't want you to feel guilty about what happened to me." Ben murmurs, raising his hand to cup your cheek. "Those years don't matter to me. The only thing that matters to me is being here with you. And I don't want to miss another second because I did something stupid again."

"And I don't want you to feel guilty about what you did to me anymore. Because you're making me forget, you're doing everything you can to be different, and you're making me fall in love with you all over again." You whisper, leaning in to his hand where his thumb traces gently over your cheekbone. "And I don't care what the past held as long as I have a future with you, as long as you're here with me I don't care about anything else."

Ben smiles when he kisses you, the shape of his lips imprinting against yours, and making you lose yourself in loving him the same way that you had all those years ago. "I love you sweetheart."

"I love you too." You smile just as wide, fingers tangling in his dark hair. "And I'm sorry. I shouldn't have compared you to Howard. You're not like him Ben. You are my everything and Howard was nothing."

He nods. "I'm sorry too. I didn't mean to hold you back I just wanted to make sure you were safe."

"I know. I want to keep you safe too." You nudge your nose against his, breathing in the same air for a few moments.

He is still smiling softly. "Why are we like this?"

"Like what?"

"We always find something to fight about and I-"

“I kinda like it.”  You shrug.

“What?”

“Not that I like that you’re mad at me or being mad at you, I just think that we like to keep it interesting." You snort. "I think that if we didn't have a healthy amount of fighting we would just be so boring and-"

Ben kisses you again to shut you up, but it doesn't work.

"Plus, I like to think that the make-up is worth it after." You whisper against his lips with a smirk.

You watch Ben's eyes darken, with your comment. "Well, sweetheart, I'd say that we've got about forty years to make-up for." His hand on your waist tightens, moving his lips to your ear. "And I look forward to every single second." Ben's voice is rough and he bites your earlobe, sending a shiver down your spine that for a moment clears your worry about Homelander.

"I love you." You smile, kissing him like it's the last thing you'll ever do, like it's the greatest good you'll ever amount to.

"I love you too." Ben replies kissing you like it's the last time he'll be able to and trying not to think that it could be.

********************************************

A/N: A lot of delicious angst before the final fight! I have written most of the fight already, but I am hoping to finish out the next chapter by the end of the week... if the writer's block isn't blocking. 😂😭 I hope y'all liked this one. I see only maybe 2 chapters left officially in the series, but we will see how everything wraps up.

As always thank you so much for reading! I am so happy that so many people love this fic as much as I do. Let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist! :)

Taglist:

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[chleem]

Flashing lights #1

Series; actor Drew x actress reader

Summary: Drew gets involved in the worst scandal of his career. One way to solve it? Proving to the whole world that he’s the sweetest lover to exist. Who better to help than the one person he can’t stand? You, an A class actress with an alcohol addiction. So, will Drew clear up his reputation, or leave with a bigger mess to clean up?

Genre: fake dating, enemies to lovers(?, slow burn, angst, smut,

Warning: mentions of alcohol, swearing, mentions of k!lling oneself, mentions of rape & sa, mentions of drug usage, smoking & vaping,

⋆.˚ please dont copy my work, if inspired please tag me

⋆.˚ this is entirely fictional, if uncomfortable then don't read

♡⸝⸝ chapter two out soon! index

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Late February 2024

Is that five, or six bottles in front of you? 

Your vision is burry, head feeling twisted, and your limbs feel as if they weight a hundred kilograms each. “Shit,” you curse, your hands reaching over to your bag. 

In attempt to reach it without standing up, you fall, and you laugh. Alcohol was able to make that fall feel painless. Getting up however, felt like the hardest task ever, but you manage, and you rummage through your bag for your pack of cigarettes. 

You find it; but no cigarettes to be found in it. 

“Fuck!” You yell, throwing your empty pack across the trailer. Good thing your makeup staffs gone, and no one to see your about-to-erupt tantrum. Reaching for your phone, you call your manager, Laura, only for it to go straight to voicemail. Wow. What are managers even for? 

Gotta do everything by yourself. You throw your phone onto the couch, and walk out of your trailer. You didn’t care whether anyone saw you; you just cared about getting a smoke. 

The afternoon sun is blinding to you, the effects of alcohol making it even more unbearable. Is there a convenience store around? Fuck, maybe you should just ask the staff for a smoke. 

You keep walking along the other trailers, feeling some eyes on you. Well, usually at a filming set everyone is busy with their own business, but you’re Y/n. You grab attention by simply breathing. Others might love it, but growing up in showbiz, you just wish to get away from it. Even if just for a second, you would love to be an invisible person. 

You keep walking, hoping to spot anyone with a cigarette in their hands. But your legs beg to stop, and you feel extra dizzy when you bump into a hard…wall? Well, it was hard, but soft at the same time. 

Warm hands wrap around your waist just as you’re ready to fall onto the ground. Even your drunken state knows that you should be clinging onto something if you’re about to fall, and in this case, you were holding onto the person’s biceps. 

You look up, feeling as if this person was 200 centimeters. Shit. He’s tall. 

His hat is low, but you could see blue circles staring down at you, and although his face was attractive, his expression was mean. As if wanting to murder you. Well, he probably does, since a stranger fell into him. 

“You-“

His cologne hits you, and the urge to throw up hits. 

Vomit splatters on his entire shirt, and just like that, you pass out, still in his arms. 

——

Woah. Even getting up slowly triggers the muscles in your brain. 

You blink a few times, adjusting to the lights in your trailer. What time was it? Did you already finish filming? A million questions enter your head as you look around you, and you notice the five large empty liquor bottles on the table. 

Right. No memory whatsoever. 

A wet towel is on your forehead. Weird, you think, as you throw it to the side. 

But then you hear the trailer’s bathroom door open, and you immediately feel uneasy. Who the fuck could be in here other than you? 

The stranger walks out, and he’s half naked. 

And attractive. 

But he’s half naked! 

You quickly check yourself, and yes, you’re still in your clothes. 

“Who… who the fuck are you?” You say, feeling really unsafe right now. You had no gun, no weapon of any kind, and you were terrified. This stranger was extremely fit and tall, and he was standing just a few feet away from you. 

He’s staring at you with his blue eyes, and honestly, you can’t tell what he’s thinking. Is he gonna kill you? Rape you? 

“You have no idea who I am?”

“Yes, you fucking creep. Get out of my trailer before I yell,” you threaten. 

His eyebrows furrow as if you were in the wrong, and he crosses his arms, leaning against your vanity across from you. Woah. His arms. It looks very delicious-

What. “Seriously. Get the fuck out,” you point over to your trailer door. 

He throws his head back, an annoyed groan escaping him. 

What’s his problem? You think, eyebrows furrowed. Okay. That uneasiness, has transformed into anger. “Fuck- get the fuck out, your weirdo. I’m…you know what, I’m calling the fucking cops.”

You look around for your phone, but see it charging on the vanity beside him. 

“Drew Starkey,” he finally says, and you look at him, confusingly. Never in your life have you ever heard that name. Were you even suppose to remember or know this person? He groans again, not even hiding his annoyance at you. “Wow. You’re such a bitch, you know that?”

The audacity- “you’re in my fucking trailer right now. You’re in the faults here. You can’t come in half naked, and act annoyed at me. You fucking cunt-“

The door to your trailer opens, and you squint at the light coming in. 

It was your manager Laura, and she’s holding a bottle of water, a pack of cigarettes, and a folded t-shirt. 

“Laura! A fucking pervert in my trailer-“

“Here you go, Drew. Again, so sorry,” Laura ignores you, handing the man, who apparently, is called Drew, the clean t-shirt. The name he just told you, it was his name? Why did he act so offended earlier, when he said it? Is he like some kind of, celebrity? Impossible; you've met almost all the top actors in showbiz, you would've known him.

“What the fuck,” you voice out, chuckling to get the anger and confusion out of you. You watch as the stranger puts the shirt on, enjoying the way his muscles flex and relaxes is… kind of arousing. But you pull away, feeling embarrassed and egoistic to admit you’re attracted to this rude stranger. 

Laura comes near you, placing the cigarettes and water on the table and sniffs you. “Yeah, you’re still a bit tipsy,” she comments, before grabbing perfume and mints from your bag and sitting down. “Can you still film?”

“What time is it?” You ask, while grabbing the pack and lighting a cigarette up. You breathe it in, and smoke out, immediately feeling more relaxed and in your element. 

“4:20.”

“What time was I suppose to be there?” You giggle, breathing in your cigarette. Oh, it felt so good to smoke. All the energy booster you needed. 

“2:30,” Laura says, sighing. 

“Oh shit,” you laugh, putting the cigarette between your lips. You forcefully spray the perfume on you, knowing the cigarette is probably going to cover the smell anyways. You take another blow of the cigarette, before putting it into Laura’s mouth. She groans angrily at you, and you just chuckle, looking over to the stranger now. He’s not shirtless anymore, and has a hat on. He’s staring at you, with a mean expression now. “What are you still doing here?” You rudely state. 

“Y/n, he’s gonna be here for a long time,” Laura replies instead, and you turn around to her. You look at her with furrowed eyebrows, confused by what she meant. Laura also stares at you with an amused expression. “What, you guys didn't talk?”

You frustratedly throw your arms around and stomp your foot. “What am I supposed to talk about to a half naked guy in my trailer? Laura, use your fucking brain.” 

You turn around and the stranger is now sitting on the couch. You ignore him, turning back to Laura. “Is he my new manager or something? Laura, who the fuck is this?”

“Drew Starkey. You honestly don’t remember him?”

“Am I suppose to?” You reply, reaching for the pack of cigarettes, hoping to bring it with you to set. But ‘Drew’ stops you, his hand, which is surprisingly very warm, wraps around your wrist to stop you. You glare at him, telling him with your eyes to get his hands off you. But he doesn’t. So you verbally express it to him. “Get your fucking hand off me or I’ll chop it off for you.”

“You can’t even walk in a straight line, Y/n.”

Annoyed, you yell, “Get your fucking hand off me."

He does, but he quickly grabs the pack out of your reach, stuffing it into his pocket. Wow. What a jackass. And who is he to care? To take away your stuff? You pray that he gets explosive diarrhea the whole day tomorrow. This asshole deserves it. 

“Whatever,” you say, walking over to the door of your trailer. And he’s right, because you trip over yourself on the way there. You laugh under your breath out of frustration and embarrassment, and turn back around, pointing at ‘Drew’ and looking at Laura. “Get this jackass out my trailer. I don’t care what he is, he better be out of my sight.”

You don’t even bother hearing what her response is, and you leave towards your set. Now, you’re in a worse mood than before. All thanks to the stranger named Drew.

——

Everyone knew you were a good actor. You’re one of the best. And to make it even more astonishing, you’re only 25 years old. Meaning, your acting could get better. But it’s already the best of the best. Maybe its your pure gift, or maybe because you’ve been doing this since you were 13. Either way, you were a fucking good actor. 

The director specifically appointed you to star in his film, which is about the world coming to an end. Director Ravens was quite famous in showbiz, so who were you to decline? Besides, your co-star was Hugh Jackman, a brilliant actor, who you've also grown to admire while filming. 

Your character was a girl in her twenties, who had fallen in love with a stranger despite knowing that the world was getting destroyed within a week. A tragic love story, yet it was beautiful. 

This scene, is your solo one. Your character finds out her brother is dead, and cries with feelings of sadness, regret, and happiness. It’s a scene that would be hard to portray, but you do it well. 

Although you were almost three hours late to set, you make up for it with your acting. One take and the director informs you that it's perfect. And no one disagrees, and the complaints about your tardiness disappears, once they rewatch the scene. You must still be tipsy, because you swear you saw some of the staff shed a tear. 

You don’t offer to watch or reshot the scene, since you wanted to be out of here as soon as possible. But director Ravens insists on another one, hoping to get it from another angle. And you do as he pleases, since, well, he’s the director. 

Wow. One of the most important scenes in the movie only took you twenty minutes to film. 

Director Ravens gives you a break before the next scene, and you walk off before he wants to give you compliments. You didn’t need to hear what you already knew. 

But as you walk over to your seat, someone already occupies it. Drew. 

“You’re still here?” You scoff, crossing your arms. 

You want to rip his blue eyes out to get him to stop staring at you. Why does he like to stare at you so much? 

He pulls a random chair close to him, perhaps wanting you to sit. “Wow. So you can remember faces.”

“Yeah, if they’re as ugly as you,” you lie, because, his face is so damn attractive, that you can’t forget it even if you wanted to. You sit down on the chair, looking ahead of you. “I thought I said I want you out of my sight?”

“You can’t decide that,” he replies. “Who are you to order me around?”

“And who are you to sit in my chair? If anything, you should be kissing my ass right now.”

“Why should I?”

“You’re seriously asking me that?” You scoff. “Look around; that’s what everyone else is doing.”

On cue, a staff member hands you a bottle of water, and you take it without saying thanks. 

“And they’re fucking idiots,” Drew says, and you turn to look at him. He’s still staring at you! Crazy. 

“Shut up. As if you didn’t enjoy the show,” you say, referring to your acting just then.

“I did.”

You scrunch your nose in disgust, “good thing you’re not an actor. You’re horrible at lying.”

“I am.”

‘’What? A liar?”

“No; I’m an actor.”

The fuck? Suddenly, a different staff member interrupts the conversation, a girl holding her phone out to the both of you.

“Can I take a selfie with you?” She shyly asks. 

Of course it’s directed to you, so you simply reject her. “Sorry, but-“

“Yeah, sure.”

Your jaw is probably on the floor right now. The girl wasn’t asking you; she was asking Drew. He stands up and takes a selfie with her, and then hugs her goodbye. 

So… he’s famous? No way, because you’ve never heard of him you entire life. Probably a newbie that got famous by luck. 

You look away from him once he sits down, embarrassed to even face him. You just thought he was some staff member that the company had assigned to serve you. But he’s actually an actor? 

“You were saying?” His deep voice interrupts your thoughts, and you feel your ears go red. Holy shit. You need a smoke real bad right now. Fuck that, you need some liquor in you right this instant. 

Director Ravens saves you, yelling that its time for the next scene. So, you hurry and throw the water bottle at Drew, who catches it as though he’s not surprised at all. 

And he smirks, lifting his hat a bit as if to get a better look up at you. “What’s this for?”

Flustered, you walk off without another look back, partly embarrassed and angry. And you busy yourself with getting into the emotions of the character, and soon, Drew is forgotten as if he never existed. 

-------------------------------

word count: 2.3k

ִ ࣪𖤐 a/n: so...what's your impression of y/n so far?

hope you enjoyed chapter one, i had a blast writing this...although, chapter four was the funniest one yet. btw, i am not joking when i wrote slow burn in the warnings, so pls be patient! and i setted this story to start in february, to match the time of real life events. other than that, rest are fictional!

[siriuslystyle1989]

Illicit Affairs

Eris Vanserra x Rhys!sister reader

warnings: Angst, Rhys being annoying :(

masterlist

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"We're all going to Rita's tonight, if you want to join." Mor spoke to her cousin, motioning to the inner circle.

"I would love to, but I'm visiting a friend tonight." Y/n replied her voice laced with false apology that was so convincing it even surprised herself.

"I swear you're always visiting someone Y/n" Cassian spoke, chewing loudly on his toast as Nesta scowled at her mate.

He leant forward and smirked at her knowingly.

"Ew stop." Y/n grimaced "It's nothing like that just a few friends I've got back in contact with recently."

"Hmmmm." Cassian was not convinced.

"Anyway, I've got to go, I'll see you all in a few days."

And with that, Y/n left. Her leather boots clicking on the cobblestone streets as she winnowed away.

............................................................................................................................

The girl arrived in front of the large doors of the forest house, breathing in a sigh of relief at the comforting atmosphere.

She raised her hand to knock but it met nothing as the door swung open to reveal her mate.

Eris Vanserra.

The redheaded male looked down at her with a smirk and spoke, voice smooth and sultry.

"Hello my fawn."

Y/n moved towards Eris, swinging her arms around his middle, snuggling her face into his chest as he kissed her hair.

"I missed you." She murmured, trying to pull him impossibly closer to her.

Eris let out a low chuckle, as he moved them further into the house.

Falling down onto the sofa, Eris dragged Y/n on top of him, resting her head on his chest snuggling down.

Kissing the top of her head, Eris stroked her hair seemingly in a comfortable bliss.

"Eris." Y/n spoke up, breaking the comfortable silence.

"Yes my love?" He replied, concern lacing his tone.

"I'm afraid my family have become... suspicious of me." She bit her lip and looked up at him with worry.

Eris sighed and continued stroking her hair.

"Whatever you want to do, I will back you. If you want to tell them, tell them, if you don't, don't. The decision is yours sweetheart." He stated.

"I just- I just don't know how much longer I can keep this from them all, especially Rhys." Y/n felt her eyes well up with tears.

Eris' heart broke at the sight as he pulled his mate closer to him, kissing her tears away.

"So there's your answer baby, tell them."

Y/n nodded, anxious thoughts consuming her mind as her head fell into the crook of Eris' neck.

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Leaving Eris was always hard but the pair had to carry on as normal. Eris not wanting his father to know about Y/n and Y/n not particularly wanting her family to know about Eris, it was something they had to get used to.

They found ways of communicating: sending emotions through the bond, meeting up whenever they could, writing letters to each other.

This is how Y/n found herself on a Tuesday morning, reading through the copious amounts of love letters her mate had sent, over a cup of morning tea.

Unfortunately this was short lived as a harsh knock was heard on her door, followed by the sound of it opening.

"It's just me." Her brother's voice bounded off the walls before she even had time to consider hiding the letters.

"Hi Rhys."

"Hey Y/n/n" He spoke with a smile, pulling the girl into a hug.

"I just came to check up on you, I feel like I haven't seen you in-" His words paused and Y/n felt her heart drop into oblivion.

"Who are all these letters from?"

"Rhys, they're- they're private!" She tried to grab the letters as he picked one up.

Clear as day.

'from your mate, Eris.'

"What the fuck Y/n."

"Rhys just- just let me explain- please" She attempted to reason with her brother as anger flamed his eyes.

"What is there to explain Y/n! After what he did to Mor..." He spat, his face laced with disgust.

"You never tried to hear his side of the story Rhysand. Maybe he's not as bad as you think he is-" Y/n spoke, trying to get her brother to look her in the eye.

"Who are you. Genuinely I don't even know you." Rhys muttered looking down to the floor, shaking his head and pulling at his hair.

"Rhys- please- just listen-"

"It's him or us." He finally looked her in the eye.

"W- what?" Y/n replied, fresh tears rolling down her cheeks.

"It's him or us. Your family or him. Your title or him."

"Rhys, don't make me choose you can't-"

"Oh I can." Rhysand replied, eyes wild with anger.

Y/n looked down, eyes scanning the letters on the table. She couldn't begin to imagine a life without Eris.

"Him."

Shock fell to Rhysand's features

"You are no sister of mine." He muttered as he barged out of her home, leaving the door swinging wide open.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Eris lay his head back on the sofa, one of his hounds making its way up to put its head on his lap.

KNOCK

The sound made the hound jump up and start whining. Eris looked down concerned and began making his way to the door.

As it opened with a creak, Eris was met with the tear stained face of his mate.

"Y/n/n, my love what happened."

"Rhys knows, he saw the letters." She spoke in between sobs falling into his arms.

"Shhhh" Eris cooed, stroking her back to calm the girl down "Its okay sweetheart, everything will be just fine."

They moved into the house, Y/n letting out a wet laugh as Eris' hounds fussed over her.

"Okay fawn." Eris spoke, sitting her on his lap. "Tell me what happened."

"Rhys came into my house, and saw the letters." Y/n shakily begun as her mate nodded, holding her hand coaxing her to go on.

"And he told me I had to choose you or my family. And when I said I'd choose you, he told me- he told me I was no sister of his." At this she let out a small sob and turned to look Eris in the eye.

"You chose me?" he spoke up.

"Of course I chose you." Y/n laughed through a sob.

"Y/n. I promise this will sort itself out, Rhysand will come around. You're his sister, he just needs time to process it." He kissed her face gently, pulling her closer.

"I love you." She sighed into him, feeling the most at ease she had all day.

"I love you too, whatever happens I swear to you, I'll always be here."

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: I am SO sorry for my absence school is killing me. Anyway SUE ME im obsessed with Eris

[librababe99]

Can I please request Jason Todd being jealous of reader and Dick who are close (in age and as friends)? Their ease and dynamic with each other brings out all of Jason’s insecurities as he has a crush on reader.

Anon, I absolutely LOVE this request and finally was able to finish something I think you might just like! 🥰

Title: In the Shadows of a Grayson

Tags: Jason Todd x Gn!Reader, friends to lovers, angst with happy ending wc: 1.4K

Jason Todd wasn’t the brooding type, at least not anymore. Well, maybe he was—but he didn’t like admitting it. He had come a long way since his days as the vengeful Red Hood, as the outcast Robin. But certain feelings were harder to shake than others, especially when it came to you.

You and Dick had been friends for as long as Jason could remember. You were close in age, shared interests, and had that easy, effortless rapport that made everyone in the Batfamily smile. To Jason, it was like watching the sun and moon, two celestial bodies that were just meant to be in sync. He hated it, if he was being honest with himself. Every time you laughed at one of Dick’s jokes, every time you gave him that affectionate look, Jason’s chest tightened.

Not because he disliked Dick. No, Jason respected his older brother more than he’d ever admit. He’d take a bullet for him without hesitation, but seeing the two of you together—seeing you with Dick—it hurt. It was like a reminder of everything Jason wasn’t. Dick was charming, confident, and always knew the right thing to say. Jason was the opposite: rough around the edges, quiet, with his words always coming out too harsh or too clumsy. He never knew how to talk to you the way Dick could.

And the worst part? You were perfect for Dick. At least that’s how it seemed in Jason’s eyes. The way you two talked about old movies, the way you could spend hours discussing literature or some obscure bit of history that left everyone else in the room confused—Jason could never keep up with any of that. It wasn’t his world, not really.

So, he stood on the sidelines, watching, brooding, nursing a crush that had taken root so deeply it hurt.

"Jason?" Your voice snapped him out of his thoughts. He had been leaning against the balcony of the Wayne Manor, the Gotham skyline stretching out in front of him. The cold air did little to ease the heat rising in his chest when he turned and saw you walking up to him, your face lit up in that way that made his heart race.

He shoved his hands into his jacket pockets, trying to act casual. “Hey,” he muttered, not quite meeting your eyes. “What are you doing out here?”

You shrugged, stepping closer to lean on the railing beside him. “Needed some fresh air. Dick’s telling another one of his ‘first day as Robin’ stories, and I think I’ve heard it about a hundred times by now.”

Jason huffed out a laugh, though it was more bitter than he intended. “Yeah, he loves those, doesn’t he?”

“Are you okay?” you asked, a little too gently for Jason’s liking. You had that look on your face, the one that said you knew something was bothering him. You were good at that—at reading people, at reading him.

“I’m fine,” he lied, turning his gaze back to the skyline. “Just… thinking.”

You were quiet for a moment, and Jason felt your eyes on him. It was unnerving in the best and worst ways. He didn’t deserve your attention like this, not when his insides were twisted up with jealousy. You deserved someone like Dick—someone better.

“Jason…” You hesitated, as if searching for the right words. “You’ve been distant lately. I feel like… I don’t know. Like we haven’t talked in weeks.”

Jason clenched his jaw. Of course you noticed. You always did. He hadn’t been able to look you in the eye for days now, especially not when you were around Dick. It was too much, and he was too afraid that his emotions would slip out if he let his guard down even for a second.

“I’ve been busy,” he said, hoping that would be enough.

But you didn’t back down. You never did when it came to him.

“I miss talking to you, Jay,” you said softly, your voice carrying a sincerity that made his chest ache. “It feels like you’re avoiding me.”

Jason’s hands balled into fists inside his pockets. You weren’t supposed to miss him. You weren’t supposed to care this much. You were supposed to be with Dick, where you belonged, not out here worrying about him.

“I’m not avoiding you,” he grumbled, though he knew it was a lie. “I’ve just got a lot on my mind.”

“About what?”

His pulse quickened. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t tell you. The words were stuck in his throat, a bitter tangle of frustration, self-doubt, and longing. He couldn’t compete with Dick. He wasn’t what you needed.

“Look,” Jason sighed, straightening up and turning to face you, his eyes finally locking onto yours. “Why aren’t you with Dick right now? He’s your best friend, right? You’ve known him forever. Why aren’t you inside with him?”

You frowned, confusion crossing your face. “Jason, what are you talking about?”

“You and Dick,” Jason forced out, the words bitter on his tongue. “You’ve always had each other’s backs. You’ve got the same interests, the same everything. You’re perfect for each other. So why the hell are you out here with me?”

Your eyes widened, realization dawning on your face, and Jason hated how vulnerable he felt in that moment, how exposed his insecurities were laid out in front of you.

“Jason… no.” You shook your head, taking a step closer to him. “I’m not—Dick and I, we’re just friends. We’ve always been friends. That’s it.”

Jason blinked, his mind racing to keep up with what you were saying. “But you’re always with him. You two are so close…”

“Because we’re friends,” you repeated, your tone gentle but firm. “That’s all. I’ve never had feelings for Dick. Not like that.”

Jason stared at you, his heart pounding in his chest. He wanted to believe you, but the nagging doubts in his mind wouldn’t let go. “Then why… why me?”

A small, soft smile tugged at your lips, and you reached out, placing a hand on his arm. “Because you’re the one I care about, Jason. I like you. Not Dick. Not anyone else. You.”

Jason’s breath caught in his throat, and for a moment, he couldn’t speak. You liked him? After all this time, all the late nights he spent torturing himself over you and Dick, you had liked him?

“I’ve been waiting for you to see it,” you continued, your voice quiet but sincere. “But you always keep your distance, like you don’t think you deserve it. But Jason… you do.”

Jason swallowed hard, his emotions threatening to overwhelm him. He didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to handle the sudden flood of relief and disbelief and hope that surged through him. You cared about him. You liked him.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” he asked, his voice rough, as if the words were dragged out of him.

You smiled softly, shrugging. “I didn’t want to push you. I thought you’d tell me when you were ready. And… I was kind of hoping you’d notice on your own.”

Jason let out a shaky breath, his mind still trying to catch up to everything that had just happened. He had spent so long convinced that you belonged to someone else, that he had blinded himself to the truth right in front of him.

Tentatively, Jason reached up and cupped your face, his thumb brushing gently against your cheek. “I’m an idiot,” he muttered, his voice thick with emotion.

You laughed softly, leaning into his touch. “Maybe a little,” you teased, your eyes shining with affection. “But I like you anyway.”

Jason couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips, the weight in his chest finally lifting. He had spent so long hiding his feelings, afraid of rejection, afraid of not being enough. But standing here with you, looking into your eyes, he felt something he hadn’t in a long time: hope.

Without another word, Jason leaned down and kissed you, the lingering doubts and insecurities melting away in the warmth of your touch. You kissed him back with a quiet intensity that made his heart race, and for the first time in a long time, Jason let himself believe that maybe—just maybe—he could be enough.

When you finally pulled away, you rested your forehead against his, your breath warm against his skin. “See?” you whispered. “You’re the one I want, Jason. No one else.”

Jason closed his eyes, holding you close, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he allowed himself to breathe.

Maybe he wasn’t perfect, and maybe he wasn’t always the easiest person to love, but as long as you were by his side, he knew he’d be okay.

And that was enough.

[mattsturnioloz]

Then I lost you: Pt 4.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3.

Summary: Matt's career as a youtuber takes a toll on his 4 year relationship with his girlfriend, putting it on hold. Will it ever be the same again?

Warnings: angst, unresolved angst, crying, talk about intercourse, make out, fluff!!

Pairings: Y/n x Matt Sturniolo

A/N: (Felt like writing chapter 4 cause I need to know what happens😭 also I recommend listening to the song while reading🙂)

“You know deep down it’s for the best y/n.” Matt says to me, gently taking my hands in his, a few tears rolling down his cheeks. I feel a deep pang in my heart but I wipe my tears. I nod, hugging him. We share a long heartfelt hug, and it only gets tighter each second.

“I love you.” I silently cry. “I love you more baby..” Matt says, softly hugging me closer, his arms around my torso. This very same night we cuddle eachother close, not knowing if it’s gonna be the last time.

———- ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ———-

The next morning I wake up still cuddled up with Matt, my heart heavy. It’s soon, but I know I should house hunt right now. Because if I don’t leave soon, I don’t think I ever will. I sit up taking myself out of matt’s arms gently, not wanting to wake up, but he stirs awake anyway and yanks me down pulling me closer. It hurts so bad but this feels so good.

I spend the next week house hunting, not finding anything that feels like home yet. No where is home if Matt isn’t with me. Matt is my home.

Matt and I still act like a couple, because we know this won’t be for much longer, and it felt like how it used to be, when we first got together. Innocent and sweet. It hurts to know we’re letting this go. I feel like we just gave up on what we have too soon. I don’t want to let it all go.

Matt comes with me to check out a house and when we walk in, we instantly feel like this is the one for me. It was small and cozy, which I love since it’s only gonna be me. Only me.

I sign the papers and buy the house, with a smile on my face, but it fades once I remember the circumstances. My things are still at my old Matt’s place, already all packed up.

We walk into Matt’s room which once was mine too, after loading all my boxes of belongings into the u-haul. It feels empty and I take a look at his face and all I see is dread and tears rolling down his cheeks.

“Matt..” I almost whisper. I grab his hand pulling him closer to bring him into a hug, and he breaks into sobs. I’ve never heard matt cry, not like this. Tears roll down my cheeks as we hug again.

“P-please- Please don’t go yet.. i just want- need one more night with you..please-” He chokes out, stuttering and sobbing. “Okay.. I would love that..” I say softly, sniffing while cupping his face, lifting it so that I can look at him with a smile and I kiss his salty teary lips.

It was time for bed and I decide to shower. I go to the bathroom and I get undressed before getting in and letting the water run over my body. I hear the bathroom door open and I open the curtain, finding Matt undressing himself to join me.

Before I could even say anything he opens the curtain wider and gets in, kissing me sweetly and softly. We shower together while showering eachother with love.

When we finish, Matt turns the shower faucet off then helps me out the shower. Once we’re out he dries my hair and naked body with the towel before doing the same to himself.

We brush our teeth, still just in towels and when we finish Matt gently grabs my chin, turning my head to face him and he kisses me. It gets deeper by the second but no faster. It was lust-filled but in the sweetest way.

He lifts me up by my thighs gripping them and takes me to the room, closing the door and gently putting me on the bed before crawling on top of me and slowly removing the towel, kissing me passionately once again. He makes his way to my neck slowly, taking his time, being gentle.

We make slow but sweet passionate love all night, and tears were shed during it, but after we cuddled eachother close and held on tight because now we knew for sure that this was our last night together. We fall asleep in eachother’s arms, not ready to let go.

———- ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ———-

Matt’s Pov:

I wake up in the morning with y/n’s arms and legs tied around me and it hits me that this is our last day together, which also happens to mark our 5 year anniversary..

I want to take back what I said. What I said about us not working. I regret it. But I know it’s too late and the damage is already done.

I don’t know what i’m gonna do without her. She’s my light, and I can’t believe I’m this stupid enough to be letting someone like her go. I love her and I can’t imagine my life without her.

She was supposed to be my wife. The mother of my children. The one who I was supposed to grow old with. The one who I would be telling stories with to our kids about how we met and fell in love. I messed it up, and now I can’t take it back, but i’ve hurt her enough.

I feel y/n start to stir awake and I brush her hair out of her face, looking down at her with a loose genuine smile. “Good morning baby..” I say leaning down towards her face to give her a sweet kiss on the tip of her nose then on the corner of her lips.

“Good morning..” She smiles with grogginess in her eyes. Her smile pulling at my heartstrings. “Happy 5 year anniversary, my love.” I say kissing her lips this time. Her smile fades and her face is in a frown. Her eyes well up which makes mine too. “I know.. I know..” I hold her close as we cry together as I occasionally kiss her forehead. I wipe her tears before kissing her forehead one last time and we get up and get dressed up for the day.

We make breakfast while messing around and laughing together, and I couldn’t help but hang onto our love that’s still here and after breakfast I feel so much affection towards her.

“Hey, why don’t I take you out for dinner tonight?” I ask her pulling her closer by the waist. “Why not?” She agrees with a big smile on her face. I lean down to peck her lips softly. “Perfect, i’ll take you home so that you can get ready then i’ll be back to pick you up” I say enthusiastically. She nods and leans up, standing up on her tip toes to give me a kiss.

I grab my keys and I lead her to the car to take her home. We get in and on the drive there we listen to music and talk about whatever we felt like talking about.

Once we get there, she grabs her purse from between her legs and she give me a kiss. “See you later..” She says with a small but sweet smile. “See you later baby..” I say, giving her a warm smile. She walks off to her front door and she opens it, going inside and shutting the door behind her, I start the car and I drive back home. I was determined to make this the best last date. Just for her.

1,250 words.

A/N: (thought this was gonna be the last part but I got exhausted and didn’t wanna wait to post it so part 5 is coming out tomorrow and is gonna be the last part!! I got so emotional making this part omgggg, writing angst is not for the weakkkk😭)

Taglist: @watercolorskyy @starzinasblog @imwetforyourmom @urfavstromboli @sturniqloo @star-yawnznn @h3arts4harry

[coffeeshades]

credits to the gif maker!

LOVE IS COMPLICATED - PART IX

summary: the trials and tribulations of falling in love or two idiots who can't get their shit together.

pairing: pedro pascal x actress/singer!reader.

word count: 2.9k

warnings: 18+ (minors dni). fluff. angst. cursing, age gap, mentions of alcohol and depression. feelings of hopelessness, anxiety. no use of y/n, if i missed something please let me know!

a/n: here it goes. happy reading <3

masterlist!

January 26, 2023

Los Angeles, California

The ceiling isn’t even interesting, but it’s better than everything else right now. You’ve spent too many nights staring at the same spot above you, trying not to think, trying not to feel, but the thoughts always come creeping back. Anxiety’s a funny thing—how it picks and chooses moments to make your life its playground, especially when there’s nothing left to distract you.

You think about your depression diagnosis from a year ago. It feels like a dirty word, one that sticks to the inside of your throat whenever you try to talk about it.

Shame has a way of making you feel unworthy, like there’s a crack inside you that everyone can see. And Pedro…well, he was part of that too. Not because he’d judge you; no, you know he wouldn’t. That’s what makes it worse. He’d understand, and you know it. But it was that very understanding, that softness, that made you feel even less deserving of him. It was easier to push him away, tell yourself that he was better off without you, without your darkness looming overhead.

It was stupid. You knew it was stupid. But knowing didn’t make it any easier. For a long time, you felt like shit. The medication and therapy helped, though. You feel better now, mostly. At least enough to move through the days without the weight of the world pressing down on your chest.

On nights like this, when the city outside your window hums with life, you find yourself longing for him. Wanting him with a kind of ache that doesn’t make sense anymore. Not after a year of silence.

Okay, not complete silence.

There were the text messages, the likes, the little online interactions that served as placeholders for the real thing. But the last time you actually heard his voice was on your birthday. He called, and it was brief. Polite. He sounded tired, maybe distant. You’d called him on his birthday, too, but he didn’t pick up. A few hours later, a text: “Sorry! Really busy over here, even on my birthday. Thanks for the birthday wishes. See you soon.”

Except “See you soon” never came. It was nothing more than etiquette.

Sarah came over a few weeks later. You were sitting on your couch, mindlessly flipping through a book, when she dropped the news. “They broke up,” she’d said, leaning against the counter like it wasn’t a bomb that just exploded in your chest. “Pedro and Julia. Months ago.”

Why didn’t he tell me?

That conversation replayed in your head for days. Maybe he hadn’t told you because you weren’t that person for him anymore. The one he turned to when things went wrong. Life just went on without him in it. The strange became familiar, and here you were, on a Saturday night, staring at nothing.

You push off the sofa, grab your phone from the coffee table, and start scrolling through social media. It’s the only thing that takes the edge off, numbing the ache for a little while. But even that was a trap because almost every post you see is about him.

Pedro was everywhere, and you couldn’t escape him.

The world had caught on to how wonderful he was, and now they all wanted a piece of him. The headlines, the photos, the fan posts—everyone seemed to wonder what it would be like to love him, to touch him. The universe was taunting you with his presence, a constant reminder of what you’d had and what you’d lost. Every time you saw his face, you felt a pang of regret, sharp and unforgiving.

February 4, 2023

New York, NY

The invitation had come a week earlier, but not from him. His sister, Lux, had sent the text. “It would be nice if you came,” she’d written, and your heart had swelled in your chest.

“I’ll try,” you’d replied, though you knew as soon as you sent it that you would go. The next thing you knew, you were on a plane to New York, staring out the window, wondering what you were doing. You hadn’t seen him in person in over a year, and you didn’t even know if he wanted to see you. What if time had passed you by? What if everything between you had faded into the background, nothing more than a memory?

The night of the show arrived, and you were a wreck. A bundle of nerves, second-guessing everything. You sat in the audience, people asking for pictures here and there, and you smiled, happily obliging. But when Pedro took the stage, your heart stopped. He was nervous during the monologue, you could tell, but he quickly settled into the rhythm.

His breathing evened out, and he was so…perfect. He talked about his family, about his mother, and you felt the lump in your throat rise when he got emotional. He was always funny in the sketches, but especially when he almost broke character to laugh. You couldn’t stop watching him.

And you hoped—no, you prayed—that maybe he’d see you through the crowd.

When the show ended, people started to disperse, and there he was, surrounded by his family, by friends, all buzzing with pride and excitement. You hung back, watching as Lux tried to get everyone lined up for a photo. “Who’s gonna take it?” someone asked, and you stepped forward before you could think twice.

“I can do it,” you said, and Lux’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Oh my god, you came!” She rushed over, wrapping her arms around you, and you hugged her back, feeling a sudden warmth in your chest.

Nico and Pedro’s nephews followed, pulling you into their hugs as well. For a moment, it felt like old times, like maybe things hadn’t changed at all. But then Pedro turned, his gaze catching yours, and time stopped.

You stood there, staring at each other, and the world spun and stilled all at once. His eyes lit up, soft and warm, like they always had. He looked like he wanted to say something, but neither of you moved.

Five seconds. Maybe less. But it felt like forever.

You smiled, and so did he, a quiet acknowledgment passing between you. Lux handed you her phone, and you took the picture, watching them all gather together, laughing and chatting. You could feel Pedro’s eyes on you the whole time.

After the photo, he walked over, his eyes locking onto yours again.

“How…what are you…?”

“Your sister invited me,” you replied quickly.

“Of course she did,” he said, glancing back at Lux with a smile.

“Congratulations, you were incredible,” you said, the words tumbling out faster than you intended. “I’m so happy for you.”

He looked at you like you were the most precious thing in the world, like you were the moon and the stars. Your heart raced, and you could feel it thumping against your ribs. He smiled, a half-smile, and his voice softened. “Thank you. I think I butchered a couple of lines, but…"

“No, no,” you insisted, shaking your head. “You were perfect. It was perfect.”

He looked like he wanted to say more, his eyes doing that thing they always did when he was holding something back. But then he cleared his throat, looking flustered. “I have to go get changed and say goodbye to a few people, but come to the afterparty, okay? Oscar and Sarah will be there.”

As if you needed a reason other than him.

“Yeah, of course,” you said, trying to sound casual.

He took a step closer, his big brown eyes fixed on you. “Thank you for being here.”

You smiled, trying to keep your composure. “Always.”

And then he turned and disappeared backstage.

•••

Later, at the afterparty, you felt like a ghost, drifting between conversations. You caught up with Oscar and Sarah, the comfort of their hugs bringing unexpected tears to your eyes. It felt good, to be surrounded by people who loved you unconditionally. But you couldn’t help yourself; you kept looking for Pedro. From across the room, your eyes would meet, and the significance of everything unsaid hung between you.

Twenty minutes passed like that. Stolen glances, quiet tension. Until you saw him slip outside to the rooftop, away from the crowd.

Without thinking, you followed him.

He stood there, looking out over the city, his broad back to you, the skyline of New York glowing in the distance. For a moment, you thought about turning around, about going back inside. But then you stepped forward, standing beside him.

“This city,” you started, “is so beautiful from up here. Makes you forget about all the bad things—like the rats and the traffic.”

He laughed—that booming, wheezing kind of laugh you loved so much—and you smiled.

Pedro smiled at you—that same familiar smile that hadn’t changed in all these years. His eyebrows lifted playfully, and for a moment, it felt like no time had passed at all. But as you looked closer, you saw it—he had changed, and yet the essence of him remained.

His hair was longer now, curling just at the ends in a way that made you want to reach out and touch it. His beard, fuller than before, had streaks of gray decorating his jawline and his hair. The lines around his eyes had deepened, like stories waiting to be told, crinkling when he smiled, as if life had both weathered and softened him.

He turned to look at you. “Hi again.”

“Hi."

“You look good,” he said, the compliment slipping from his lips with ease.

You chuckled softly. “Thanks, so do you, Mr. Popular.”

He clicked his tongue, amused. “What can I say?”

The rooftop was hushed, only the chatter and music from the party drifting up from where you stood. The world below a distant hum, leaving just the two of you bathed in the soft glow of green and gold light from the city. The air was cool but not cold, wrapping around you both in a way that felt intimate, protective.

How Deep Is Your Love started playing, and you looked towards the party, a small smile playing on your lips. As if he could read your mind, he chuckled and said, "How fitting. What are the odds?"

For the first time in what felt like forever, you were under Pedro’s gaze—not the chaotic, feverish attention you were used to, with cameras flashing and crowds screaming your name, but something deeper. His attention had always been different. It was quiet, but focused, like a steady hand on your shoulder, grounding you without a word.

For a moment, you couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe. The pull between you too strong, a tether stretched thin by years of disconnect but never broken. You felt it—the weight of all that had gone unsaid pressing against your chest. You had to say it. Now, before you lost the courage.

“I was debating whether or not to do this here,” you began, your voice low but steady, “today of all days, but I feel like the right time will never come for us, so I’ll just say it.”

Pedro’s eyes searched yours with anticipation, perhaps fear or hope, watching you with that unwavering focus that made your heart race.

In that moment, you realized, you didn't know where to start.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, the words catching in your throat. “I disappeared like that, and I know I hurt you. I was... I was dealing with so much, and I wanted to tell you, but I couldn’t move. Some days were harder than others, and I felt so ashamed. So lost. So sad.”

The word sad hung between you, fragile yet heavy. You could see it in his face—how your words cut him deeply. His lips parted, and you saw the pain flicker in his eyes, the understanding that only he could offer.

“Baby,” he said, the word tender, rich with affection. He took a step closer, his presence overwhelming yet calming all at once. His hand moved to your hair, fingers brushing it aside before resting gently on the side of your head. The touch was so familiar, so comforting, you closed your eyes for a moment, letting the warmth of it wash over you.

“No,” Pedro said softly, his voice breaking just a little. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for not doing more. For not being there when you needed me. I’m a fucking coward.”

You opened your eyes, meeting his gaze. “I pushed you away because I thought… I thought you were happy with her.” Your voice cracked, but you pushed through the pain. “And before that, I pushed you away because I thought you just didn't want me. I figured it was better to let you be.”

He let out a breath, stepping even closer, his forehead nearly touching yours. “I got with her because I couldn’t escape you,” he confessed, the words raw and full of regret. “You were always there, in my head, in my heart. I thought if I could be with someone else, maybe… maybe I’d forget you, but I couldn’t.”

You felt the tears sting at the back of your eyes. The truth of it, the weight of his words, felt like a key turning in a lock that had long been rusted shut. You wanted to say more, to tell him everything, but before you could, Pedro’s hand slipped to your cheek, his thumb brushing the corner of your mouth.

“I was afraid that you'd be the only person I ever actually wanted. And now I'm afraid that my one and only chance at happiness has passed me by.” He whispered, his voice low and intense. “And I…I think about kissing you more than I think about anything else, literally in the world. It’s my go-to thought when my mind has a minute to spare.”

You could barely breathe. The air between you felt charged, electrified by everything he was admitting, by the love you had both buried for so long. “I was so scared,” he continued, his eyes glistening. “So scared of fucking up our friendship, scared of what people might say, and scared of losing you because… I’ve never known what to do with pain, mi amor. All I’ve ever done is hide from it. But I don’t want to do that anymore.”

You reached up, covering his hand with yours.

He closed his eyes for a moment, as if your touch was too much, too overwhelming. Then, slowly, he opened them again, his gaze locking onto yours with such intensity it made your heart ache. “I was such an idiot,” he said, his voice rough with emotion. “I thought I could live without you, but the truth is, I’ve never been able to. Not for a single day.”

You smiled, your own tears finally spilling over. “Well, that makes two of us.”

"You're my favorite person to talk to," he said, "even when we're fighting."

There was a beat, a single breath in which the world seemed to pause, and then he kissed you. It wasn’t a tentative kiss, shy, or unsure—it was everything. Every moment, every longing look, every stolen glance over the years poured into this one, perfect moment. His lips were soft but demanding, his hands slipping into your hair as he pulled you closer. You knew people could be watching from afar, but you melted into him, because nothing else mattered right now.

When you finally pulled back, foreheads pressed together, both of you gasping for air like you'd been drowning and only just found the surface. His forehead rested against yours, his breath shaky, and in that moment, you saw it all—the vulnerability, the fear, the anger, and beneath it all, the raw, unrelenting love.

Pedro’s voice was thick with emotion as he spoke, “I hate myself for waiting this long.” His hands slid down to your shoulders, gripping them with a desperation that made your heart twist. “I watched you disappear, and I told myself it wasn’t my place. But it was. It always was.”

His eyes bore into yours, deep pools of brown that always saw you, even when you didn’t want to be seen. His hands turned and pushed you slowly to the railing, and you could feel the cold biting into your back even through the thick layers of your jacket.

“I hated myself too,” you admitted, the words spilling out in a rush, messy and imperfect, but true. “I thought about you every day. And I hated myself for it because I couldn’t let go. I tried, God. I tried with everything I had to move on, but it was always you. It was always you, Pedro.”

His lips trembled, and you saw the tears in his eyes—the same tears that were stinging yours. He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head.

“We wasted so much time.”

You nodded, your own heart breaking at the realization. All the years you had spent avoiding each other, convincing yourselves it was for the best, when deep down, you knew the truth.

You had been running—both of you—from something that had always been there.

“I know,” you said softly, reaching up to cup his face, your thumb brushing against the scruff on his jaw. “But we’re here now. I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere."

He nodded, a slow, deliberate movement. “I love you,” he said, the words a soft confession.

You smiled, face wet with tears, your heart finally free of the burden it had carried for so long.

“I know."

a/n: aaaahh finally!!! these idiots got it right it only took like 20 years lol.

an extra final chapter is coming very soon. i had so much fun writing this. i started writing this silly little fic right after a breakup because i was feeling lonely and it was the best way for me to not feel like that sooo i wanted to thank everyone who read, liked, reblogged or commented, it means the world to me that someone else enjoys something that takes so much of my time. love you all so much!!!

[myslutwritings]

Hi, i was wondering how the uppermoons react to the reader aka the love of their life crying herself to sleep after a huge argument, like they walk into their shared bedroom to find the reader laying on the bed with tear stained cheeks flushed face mouth slightly open, i know i know it's way too angst-y but i love being comforted when i cry and i am a cry baby so... Pretty please🥺

wowie😂 y’all seem to dig the crybaby reader headcanons so here’s some angst my lovelies!!

➤ Uppermoons comforting reader after an argument.

pairing/featuring: crybaby!reader x the three uppermoons! content warning: lots of angst, douma has emotions, OOC!uppermoons, semi-nsfw, smaller reader, size difference, crybaby!reader.

— note: sorry if this comes off as cheesy! this is pure fluff headcanons for those who are sad and find comfort in our three lovely demons! so i wanted to go all out😅 so the uppermoons aren’t going to be THAT in character. [not proof read btw]

KOKUSHIBO <3

Kokushibo (the uppermoon one) and you got into one extremely heated and serious argument that day..

Is argument even the right word at this rate? more like a fight.

Like so bad you guys were screaming at each other the same way toxic parents who weren’t ever in love would fight. 🥲

The fight was so severe to the point where kokushibo just upped and left you alone for hours. He didn’t desire to fight that night and was exhausted from your constant screaming.

However..

Returns later that night to apologize since the fight was his fault only to find you crying in y’all’s shared bedroom..

Gods.. what has he done?!

Okay now he feels even worse. this is going to be troublesome considering he already has a hard time being intimate and expressing his feelings.

After all, koku here is very avoidant. but he’s not trying to be.

You immediately stop crying once you feel his presence. How long has he been standing there?

you want to tell to go away

you want to tell him you hate him (you don’t)

you want to say you love him

you want to say so many things

But nothing comes out.. you just can’t speak properly due to the utter anguish you’re in over the fight..

you’ve always been the biggest crybaby, a sensitive soul.

Kokushibo has always reassured you that he loved that about you. as if you’re the purest and most beautiful flower. an angel sent from the gods themselves.

Finally, you muster up the courage to speak

But right before you blurt out anything Kokushibo gathers you up on his arms and cradles you on his lap.

The gesture makes you eyes water more and you just end up sobbing into his shoulder muttering: “i’m sorry” over and over again.

some phrases you’ll hear from Kokushibo while crying are;

“i’m deeply sorry, my love. my intention was to never make you shed this many tears. That’s the last thing i want to do..”

“Please, no more tears, my dearest petal. I can’t stand witnessing you in such a state of misery. I’m so sorry for leaving you alone.. it’s my fault and i should’ve tried to communicate with you instead of leaving you alone like that.. you’re my one and only and i’ll never do something this foolish ever again.”

Koku isn’t the very best at communication nor is he the talking type but when it comes to you he’ll go out of his way to talk to you all night long until you feel better! <3

The both of you end up cuddling all night.

He plays with your soft hair and keeps an eye on you as you rest.

Even if you fall sleep he still won’t leave. He’s going to hold you in his protective embrace while you sleep me until you wake.

DOUMA <3

Oh my! his poor sweet lotus crying to themselves after an argument? now, this won’t stand..

Now let’s skip the part where he feels emotions for you.

Anyway-

Douma is not really an argumentative kind of guy..

i mean, sure, he’ll joke around with lord-akaza but that’s all for great fun! :D

And lets not forget the numerous times muzan has chastised him or when he had to listen to his long-rants about how worthless he and his superiors are for not being able to seek out the blue spider lily.

So, when you two break out into an argument.. he doesn’t yell back. he kinda disregards your feelings and accuses you of being silly and just teases you for it.

I mean, you are being over-dramatic, right?

Honestly, he’s not used to it when you yell and break down afterwards..

Douma’s never seen you so upset before! :(

Okay, he may know how to ‘comfort’ people but we all know that’s a façade.

Deadass doesn’t know what to do. it’s different because with you he actually cares (more than you know.)

Is torn between giving you space and just forcing you into his embrace and babying you until you stop crying like how he does with his disciples.

Douma is clingy. he’s always been very clingy and touchy. this rainbow-eyed man is glued to you 24/7. 🥹

As predicted, his clingyness gets the better of him and he follows you like a lost puppy once you runaway in tears.

He didn’t mean for this to happen nor to make you so upset.

You’re crying on your futon and he stands there for a good second witnessing you in distress. he’s still feeling hesitant.

He isn’t used to these emotions bubbling up into his gut right now.. and doesn’t like it one bit! he needs it to vanish as fast as possible.

Douma ignores your protests while he gathers you up into his strong arms and lays you across his lap bridal-style.

Kisses your tears away and gives you love bites since he has a habit of doing that. usually it makes you giggle when he does that but this time you only recoil from his touch.

“Aw, don’t pull away from me!”

**cue the pouting**

Douma will legitimately comfort you this time instead of putting on that act he does with his followers.

Some phrases you’ll hear from douma are:

“Hush now, my darling! it’ll be okay! i- i didn’t mean to upset you, honest! i can’t let you go.. i can’t leave you alone when you’re crying like this..”

“Hey, hey! shh.. it’s okay sweetie! i’m here for you! let’s wipe those tears off your pretty face, hm? oh, you’re beautiful no matter what even if you’re crying but i would much rather you smile for me! can you do that for me, dear?~”

“I love you so much, [name]! I promise i didn’t mean to make you upset.. it won’t happen again! please just try to communicate with me more so we won’t fight like this again!Of course i’ll do the same in return.. these emotions i felt today were something i never want to experience gain!”

Much like kokushibo. Douma isn’t the best communicator either.

Sure, the man may be a yapping machine but it takes him a hot minute to realize his wrong-doings and talk it out with you!

By the way he’ll probably tease you after this night so be prepared.

Probably would initiate sex to make you relax since you’re so damn tense but will understand if you decline. 

AKAZA <3

Good lord, he’s the MOST emotional and sympathetic out of everyone.

Akaza tends to yell a lot, he suffers from anger issues and can be passive aggressive so it’s quite easy to get him riled up.

This fight in particular was worse than usual.

Like wayyyy worse.

Akaza actually hates, hates, HATES, HATES, fighting with you.

So he’s on the verge of tears himself and angry with himself for being so weak to argue with you back instead of being the bigger and stronger person in this situation.

More importantly, he made you cry, he’s most disappointed in himself for that.

Akaza isn’t too clingy, on very rare occasions he is though.

Akaza has attachmemt issues but doesn’t show it that often (that’s my headcanon for him)

So bro’s attachment issues are literally SPIRALING in this moment.

Calls out for you when you runaway but you don’t turn back and that’s what he knows he’s fucked up.

Will do ANYTHING to make you forgive him and to stop crying.

Wants to respect you but he knows he’ll go apeshit if he leaves you alone so he takes a hot minute before running after you.

He’ll knock on your door. f you don’t answer he’ll just waltz right in like he owns the place.

Starts yapping as soon as the door swings open.

Poor thing, he’s flipping out. 😭

“Baby!! please don’t cry!! shit.. i’m sorry!”

You look at him

Is he.. tearing up?

You feel guilty for overwhelming him but you’re also still mad at him.. you can’t bring yourself to apply him with the reassurance and comfort he craves in that moment even though you want to..

Akaza will get more needy if you ignore him and crawl into bed with you to spoon you from behind. His hands swiftly snake around your waist and you feel your back flush against his bare chest as he buries his face into the crook of your neck.

He’s mumbling “i’m sorry, pretty girl..” under his shuddering breath.

He is NOT letting you go until morning.

Akaza will pepper feather-like kisses upon your neck from behind and squeeze your waist while whispering comforting words into your ear.

He’s really not letting you go until you forgive him. 😞

Phrases you’ll hear from Akaza after an argument:

“Come here, honey.. i’m really sorry. believe me, i didn’t mean anything i said. i was a damn idiot!”

“Sweetheart, i love you so so much it hurts.. you mean the fucking world to me! i would kill for you, i would even die for you.. you bring out this special part of me in which i feel like myself.. only YOU have the power to do that. i would never leave you or let anything bad happen to you, honest!”

He embraces you and will probably end up turning you around so you can face him.

he appreciates it when you look into his eyes when he’s talking to you about something important.

You making eye-contact with him sends him onto cloud nine 😩

Akaza just wants to see your pretty face! 💗💗

Even if you take your time forgiving Akaza he will understand and never love you any less.

[kantyji]

Omg! Your Alhaitham texts were so adorable!! Can you do another part please? If not can you do wriothesley’s version?

ㅤㅤㅤㅤCALLER TUNE [𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 . . .]

‎‎‎‎ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ‎‎ㅤㅤWRIOTHESLEY IS NOW ONLINE !

Synopsis: Who knew the frat boy on campus has a love for tea....and something someone else? Warnings: gender neutral reader, unestablished relationship, modern university!au, frat boy! wriothesley, non-frat! reader, wriothesley likes reader but they are indifferent/play it off, semi-slow burn, informal texting style (which may make wriothesley sound out of character, sorry!), indirect confession, usage of "doll" as a nickname Notes: This is part of my newest event, Caller Tune - make sure to join in on the fun by reading more about how you can participate here <3 ─── Click here for the masterlist!

A formal apology for my heart-wrenching Wriothesley angst, I hope this is a good enough fic! I loved writing this dynamic, thank you for requesting anon~

ㅤㅤㅤCALLER TUNE [𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 . . .]