#somehow with each passing day i realize he's more baby than i thought the previous day | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bratkook · 4 years

Text

almost. (m) jjk.

not yet, almost, right now

pairing. jungkook x reader genre. fluff, baby angst, smut word count. 6.4k warnings. two idiots!!, pining, masturbation (m. and f.), use of vibrator, accidental voyeurism?, more feelings come to light!! summary. jungkook tries to be the best wingman he could be in your new venture after your breakup. he could do it, right? note. part two of not yet, some more feelings are exposed, please don’t hate oc she is but a pendeja that doesn’t see the obvious feelings jungkook has but she has good intentions i promise<3 there will most likely be a final part,,if you guys are into it lmao okie bye

The cool summer breeze flows around you as you’re sitting under the shade, eyes focused on the chaos of runny yolk and hashbrowns that is your breakfast. Jungkook on the other hand, is focused on you. His signature yellow shades block out the sun reflecting from passing cars, concealing his eyes just enough for you to not see him blatantly staring at you while you stuff your face.

The charmed smile he has falters slightly when you look directly at him, hashbrown lingering by your lip as you repeat his name. “Sorry, what?”

Your brows come together as you smile at his zoned out state, something you had grown fond of in the years of knowing him, always enjoying the small dazed look that graced his face whenever he was lost in his thoughts. His lips push out slightly in question, curious eyes wondering just what you could have been asking him.

“I was saying that I think I’m giving up on crushes and love.” You say it so easily, mind made up as you grin at him before continuing to shovel hashbrowns into your mouth, only pausing to take a sip of your iced coffee.

Jungkook tries his best to seem unaffected, nodding along in interest as he takes a steady bite of his own food. “Really?”

“Yeah,” you sigh, taking a look around at the people surrounding you: friends having breakfast together and snapping photos, couples feeding each other food with smiles on their faces, a lone man with his dog perched on the seat across from his while he worked on his computer. You briefly wonder if all of them, even the dog, have better luck with love than you do.

“I think I’m cursed,” you continue. “All of my exes have been assholes, and I’ve always been too blind to see it until it’s over and I’m left crying over Ryan Gosling and Rachel McAdams.”

“Maybe you’re just looking for love in the wrong places,” Jungkook shrugs, internally screaming because he’s who you should be looking at if you wanted love.

Not to toot his own horn, but Jungkook liked to think he was a good guy, a great boyfriend even. His previous track record of relationships could attest to that, all of them ending on mutual terms, still friendly and civil with each other. He’s almost certain if there was a Yelp page for him it would be at least 4.5 stars with comments raving about how great he is, even little anecdotal touches about how he always gave away his hoodies or offered to cook breakfast.

He was a god damn catch, why couldn’t you see that?

“Maybe prince charming is a lot closer than you think,” he grumbles out, stabbing his omelette with a little more force than necessary, fork clanking against the plate. And when you gasp in realization he freezes, slowly looking back up at you and seeing the way your eyes widen.

“Wait, maybe you’re right!” Your hand shoots across the table, gripping onto his forearm and it sends a shock throughout him, skin tingling at your touch. “You know that coffee shop below our building? That cute barista always puts a heart next to my name. Do you think I should ask for his number?”

Jungkook blinks once, slowly twirls his fork in his hand and blinks again before staring up at the sky, mentally asking why he couldn’t just go out and say it. “Hm, I don’t think you should.“

With a defeated sigh you retract your hand, slumping back into your seat and grabbing your iced coffee once more, stirring the straw and ice around as you nod. “True. What if he feels obligated to give it to me just because he doesn’t want to get fired in case I go all Karen on his ass.”

That wasn’t why Jungkook had said not to, but sure, that works too, so he hums along.

“I bet he draws hearts on all the other girls cups too.” You huff, playfully wiping a tear under your eye with a smile.

“I’ve actually—“

“You know what I—“

You both freeze mid sentence, Jungkook’s cheeks tinted a light pink as he stutters on his words, wide eyes staring at you as if he had caught himself before you cut him off. But as you’re about to tell him to go on, he waves you off and urges you to speak first.

“I was just gonna say that maybe I should go through that wild phase people usually go through after breakups.”

He sets his silverware down on the plate and sips his water, giving you an odd look. “Wild phase? Like you wanna dye your hair red and get bangs?”

“No,” you cackle, ruffling a hand through your own hair as you picture yourself with that combination. “I should just go out and hook up with people. I feel like I’ve either been in a relationship or entirely single, so it could be fun right?”

“Uh, maybe...” he trails off, rolling his lips together in thought, not exactly fond of hearing you say that when he had felt the confession about to roll off his tongue. He takes a slow breath, trying to see this from a neutral point, the point of a supportive friend wanting to help you get over a breakup.

“How do you go about it?”

“Me?” he chokes, pointing at his chest as if there was magically some other person you could be addressing.

“Yes, you. Need I remind you, we share a wall between our beds.” You roll your eyes, but the smile on your face shows that you’re speaking of this lightly, not entirely annoyed by the fact that you had heard Jungkook during his own fair share of hook ups.

He’s not ashamed of it, but considering he never really brought up being able to hear you, he thought you’d pretend to never hear him. It wasn’t too often that he had a girl over, the number of hookups only increasing after you got with Hajoon and loosely cut ties with Jungkook. But from what you had heard—and seen thanks to your nosey self looking through peep holes once they left—it was very rarely the same girl.

So to you, Jungkook was a pro at the art of hookups.

“Right, sorry,” he grimaces, a sheepish smile on his lips as he wonders just how many times his activities kept you up at night.

“It’s fine, consider us even.” A teasing laugh follows your statement, enjoying the flustered look on his face, how his cheeks get even darker in embarrassment. Jungkook was used to the two of you talking like this, neither of you having a filter especially when it came to sexual aspects, but he hadn’t had a conversation like this since before you got with Hajoon. It would take some getting used to again.

“So, give me the tips. Where do you find people?”

Jungkook leans back into his chair, arms stretching out on either side of him, short sleeves of his black tee bunching up and revealing more of his tattoos and the rippling of his muscles. With a small laugh he rakes his hand through his fluffy hair, giving you a small smile. “Honestly? Anywhere. I’ve gotten girl’s numbers at the gym and at coffee shops, but bars are the best bet for something quick.”

“Ugh, fuck you and your pretty privilege.”

“What?” he guffaws, smiling wide and showing you his adorable smile as he laughs loudly, not caring about the attention he draws to your table. He doesn’t even realize how the table full of girls is now trying to discreetly stare at him, because his eyes are on you. You see it though, and it further proves your point. “What the hell is pretty privilege?”

Your wild hands gesture towards him, a look of disbelief on your face as you do so. “You! Of course girls line up to hand you their number, have you seen yourself? Pretty privilege,” you jab your fork at him in time with your final words, a smirk on your glossy lips.

Jungkook feels his confidence grow at your casual compliment, tongue prodding at his cheek as he stares down at his food, trying not to smile too hard. You thought he was pretty, that was a win in his book.

“C’mon,” he teases, foot gently nudging your leg underneath the table. “You could totally score someone's number. Plus there's always apps if you just wanna test the water.”

You give your plate a contemplated stare, “Sure, how hard could it be?”

Admittedly, the answer to that question was: not hard at all. You had met all your previous boyfriends in person, through mutual friends or shared classes back in college, never once dipping your toe into the world of Tinder or Bumble. Who knew all it would take was a couple of selfies and the strategic body shot to have boys circling around you like some new-age, slightly filthier version of rapunzel.

Jungkook knew though, not at all shocked by how quickly you get a match the following day when he’s at your place. His eyes are focused on the screen in front of him, helping you beat a level in your favorite game that you had been stuck on. But the second you gasp as if you’ve won the lottery, he pauses the game entirely and gives you an odd look.

“What?”

His answer comes in the form of your phone thrusted in his direction, lit up screen displaying your profile picture and the one of the boy you had just matched with. Jung Hoseok. Jungkook’s eyes narrow as he reads the name, trying to remember it in case he somehow had a friend in common that knew all the dirt on him.

He has a similar pair of yellow shades on his own head, thicker black rims around them and a charming smile on his face. Jungkook chuckles to himself. Yellow shades? How original.

“What do I say?” you question, eyes looking nervous as you wiggle the phone in his face. The small white bar beneath your match urges you to start a conversation, and coming up with the right words to say makes you overthink it all.

“Just say hi and tack on some cute emoji. It’s not that hard,” he laughs, pushing the phone back at you. Jungkook knew you could start the message off any way you wanted and this Jung Hoseok would eat it right up. How could he not, the alluring smile in your profile photo would draw anyone in.

“Okay, I did it.” Your phone is instantly locked and chucked aside in an attempt to be forgotten, choosing to grab the remote out of Jungkook’s hands for another distraction. It only lasts a brief second before you’re killed by the boss Jungkook was trying to defeat.

“Really?” Jungkook huffs, yanking the remote back into his hands, needing a distraction himself. He was still trying to wrap his head around the fact that you were searching for a fuck buddy while he sat beside you. How crazy would it be if he suggested being your fuck buddy, offered to help you through this so called wild phase you were searching for.

No. That’s not what he wants.

Would he enjoy it? Sure. But he could already imagine how much worse his heart would hurt if his feelings came to light and yours were non-existent. That is if you’d even agree to it.

“Relax, he’s probably thinking of what to reply.”

You make a noise of disagreement, fingers itching to unlock your device to see if it was true, slowly inching towards it until you finally grab it and go back onto the app. Jungkook just chuckles as he goes back to helping you with your game, not wanting to look at you as you giggle at your device. He could already imagine what this guy was telling you for you to turn into a giddy mess not even two minutes in.

He tunes it all out, eyes focused on the screen, fingers gripping the remote with a little more force than needed. His concentration helps him though, finally passing the level you’ve been stuck on for the past two weeks.

“You’re welcome,” he sighs, making a show of stretching out and sending you a smile, having it falter slightly when he sees your eyes still focused on the screen of your phone. With a frown he looks back at the television, saving the game before turning it off altogether.

Once he gets up from the couch, making his way over to the media console to store the remotes, is when you look up at him. “You’re right, this is easy!”

Jungkook doesn’t feel the usual pride that comes with being right, but the cheerful look on your face prevents him from feeling salty. Coming back towards the couch, he sits beside you once more, facing you as he rests his elbow on the back cushion to lean on. “Told you so.”

He keeps that same smile on his face as you mention how quick Hoseok was to ask you out on a date, even as you bring up the fact that this date would be at his place, and Jungkook could decipher netflix and chill any way some greasy boy tried to conceal it.

“I hope he knows I don’t want anything serious,” you mumble, chewing on your fingernail as you scroll through the messages.

Jungkook could almost laugh at how blissfully unaware you were of the piranha infested water that was the great sea of Tinder. Of course this yellow sunglass wearing wannabe version of him knows you don’t want anything serious, why else would he be so quick to invite you over with the cheeky excuse to watch movies.

All he can do is shrug as he stares at you, lips pressed together in an effort to not say something that would totally ruin everything. Instead, Jungkook does everything he can to be the best version of a wingman you could get. He tells you the ins and outs of hookups, how you should definitely not text him the minute you leave his place and tell him you had fun, don’t talk about anything super personal involving family or your work, and if he doesn’t offer to go down on you but expects a blowjob he’s a loser.

It’s solid advice that you mentally jot down, subjecting him to further questions your mind comes up with and even asking him for help on an outfit via text the night of your hangout with Jung Hoseok.

Jungkook stares at the photos for a little too long if he’s being honest. They weren’t spectacular selfies that you had taken much effort for, their sole purpose being showing off the outfit, but the way you look so focused as you snapped the shot had him zooming into your face and smiling like an idiot. When you double text him with a long line of question marks he snaps out of it, deciding on the second option you picked of mom jeans and a cropped shirt. Cute and casual, and definitely something Jungkook preferred, but he’d never tell you that.

When you finally text him a thumbs up and tell him you’re on your way out he just hearts the message before locking his device and trudging to the living room. It’s not often that he wallows in self pity, spacing those days out so far he barely remembers them. But they usually went exactly like this, ordering a large meat lovers pizza with extra cheese, drinking far too many Mike’s hard lemonade—because despite how much they made his stomach hurt they were tasty so he didn’t care—and binge watching his comfort show: Modern Family.

But even as he sulks on his couch, practically sinking into the cushions with horrible posture and a slice of pizza resting on his chest, he can’t find it in himself to chuckle at Cam and Mitch’s usual banter. He’s too busy thinking about which movie you’re currently watching, if you were watching it. Who’s Jungkook kidding though, you were totally getting your guts rearranged right now.

Taking an aggressive bite out of the crust he frowns and raises the volume up on his television, attempting to drown the mocking voice in his head calling him a loser for not admitting to his feelings. He knew this, knew he should have said something when he wanted to at breakfast, but Jungkook was afraid that if he confessed as you were talking about hooking up, that you’d see him as taking advantage of a situation instead of being genuine. I mean who wouldn’t? You say you want something casual and suddenly he’s spilling his heart out and you’re supposed to believe he’s not some pig trying to butter you up. He didn’t want to get labeled as a creepy neighbor after the good times you’ve had.

“So stupid,” he grumbles to himself as he takes another swig, the last drops of the alcohol hitting his tongue with a tangy aftertaste. As he sits up to place the empty bottle onto his coffee table his muscles ache, neck stiff from the unfortunate position it had been subjected to for the last three hours. With a small huff he’s rolling his shoulders, reaching for his discarded phone to see the time—and also check if you’d sent him some SOS text—but he finds nothing besides the bright numbers indicating that it was nearing midnight.

In true pity party day fashion, he doesn’t even bother cleaning up after his mess, just tossing the dirty dishes into the sink to be washed tomorrow when he would force himself to be in a better mood. Instead, he grabs a water and his phone and waddles into his bedroom.

The moonlight illuminates the space enough for him to keep the light switch off, undressing from his crumb covered sweats and shirt, choosing to remain in his boxers as he slipped under the cold duvet. The sheets feel fresh against his hot cheeks, flush from the alcohol, cooling him down and making his body relax.

Jungkook knows he should sleep, needing to be up early tomorrow for work, but he can’t stop his mind from wandering into dangerous territory. His buzzed brain has no qualms imagining exactly what you were doing right now, wondering if you’d be the type to act shy at a guy’s house for the first time, if you’d initiate the first move or not. Jungkook had only seen it up close once under the flash of strobe lights and the haze of alcohol, but he can still picture the soft smile on your face before you go in for a kiss, and he grumbles under his breath when he realizes that he wouldn’t be the one kissing you tonight.

What he doesn’t know, is that you wouldn’t be the one getting kissed tonight either. The Jung Hoseok you had perceived through Tinder, assuming he was all casual and DTF with his netflix and chill suggestion, had been anything but. What you thought would be a steamy night, ended up becoming a nice dinner and comedy watched, morphing into some version of game night where you discovered he was a little too competitive than you were used to. The only action you got was a kiss to your cheek as he walked you to your car and a promise for another date. A promise you would not be keeping.

So as Jungkook lays in bed while his thoughts turn into some fantasy of you moaning out his name, you shuffle into your bedroom and slip into your pajamas with a defeated sigh. You had already texted your best friend telling her what a bust tonight had been, deciding to just tell Jungkook all about it tomorrow because you knew he was most likely fast asleep now. And as you settle under your own covers, inches away from Jungkook with only a wall seperating you, you decide to just call it a night and pretend it never happened.

Just as you shut your eyes, nuzzling into your pillow, you hear the first moan come from behind the wall. A small cry of despair escapes you as you bury your face into your sheets, tugging them up and over your head to block the sound of Jungkook getting some action the same night you had been left high and dry. Of course he would, assuming you’d be getting the same treatment at your date's place, why wouldn’t he take advantage of your absence and not have to muffle his partner’s moans the way he usually did.

You’re just going to ignore it, until you hear a moan that sounds strangely like your own name. Maybe it's wishful thinking on your part, your horny brain deciding to pretend that Jungkook was calling for you instead of whoever he was with. It might be a little wrong for you to have that fantasy of your neighbor, but you aren’t blind. He’s hot, and adorably sweet, the perfect package for any girl he tried to swoon. And judging by the cries you’ve heard of lucky girls prior, you know he was good in bed.

You’re just desperate now. That’s the excuse you tell yourself as you slowly settle onto your back, feeling your body warm up when you focus on his muffled groans, desperate and needy. As your hand slowly slides down your shirt, you shut your eyes, biting down onto your lip to muffle any sound you could make when your fingers slip underneath your pants and past your underwear.

Jungkook on the other hand doesn’t care about his volume. His boxers are tugged down his thighs, knees bent as he slowly ruts into his sticky palm. His hand is tacky with the lube he had messily squirted on, thick cock glistening in the light coming in from his window. He can’t look away from it, mouth dropped open as he groans, imagining it was your hand tightly wrapped around him, your spit covering his cock instead of that strawberry flavored lube.

“Ah fuck,” he moans, shutting his eyes and throwing his head back onto his soft pillows when his thumb rubs along his slit. It continues to leak beads of precum, quickly wiped away to join the mess on his cock when his hand slides back down and squeezes along his base.

You hear that loud and clear, and when the female voice you’re expecting never follows, you realize he must be taking care of himself. It makes you feel a little less guilty now as your fingers trail along your slit, collecting the slick coating your folds before you softly circle your clit. A choked gasp fills the air at the small sensation, your body already wired after having expected to get some action tonight; it totally had nothing to do with your hot neighbor jacking off inches away from you.

With your eyes fluttering shut, you strain your ears to make out any other noise, muffling your own groans with a hand pressed against your mouth. The bed creaks lightly underneath you as you roll your hips into your hand, getting into a smooth rhythm that makes your body buzz.

Slowly, your imagination runs wild, and you wonder just what Jungkook was thinking of as he did this. Was he watching some porn as he did it, using his own filthy thoughts to push himself to ecstacy, or was this just something he needed to do to be able to sleep?

“Shit, so good,” he groans out, voice raspy, but you can sense his desperation through the drywall. It’s what has you sinking a single digit into your drenched entrance, biting down onto your lower lip when you feel the glide of your walls as you start to thrust into yourself, easing in another and mewling at the slight stretch.

Jungkook would absolutely give his left leg to know what your pussy felt like, he didn’t even care how disgusting he sounded by admitting that to himself, it was true. Blame it on the hard lemonade that made his stomach ache and his mind unfiltered, but he could almost visualize how you’d look above him, could practically feel the warmth of your core wrapped around him, dripping down his length as he fucked into you.

He knows you’re loud in bed, never being one to conceal your cries of pleasure and he would die happy to hear his name come out of your mouth as you creamed his cock. But for now, his hand would have to do.

His lids feel too heavy, jaw slack as the pleasure flows through his body. The wet squelch of his palm fills the room, mingling with his pants and groans, air growing thick around him. It’s been a while since Jungkook had jacked off, and even longer since he’d been able to do it shamelessly in bed without the fear of you hearing him, but now that he thought you were gone he can’t find it in himself to cover his mouth or groan into his pillows like he usually did.

The pent up frustration fogs up his mind, cranks the lust up to 11 until his free hand is gripping his sheets beside him, bed frame creaking as his thrusts speed up. The thuds of his headboard hitting the wall come from behind you, a choked moan blending in with it, and it has you scrambling for your bedside drawer.

The pajamas you wear get yanked off your legs and tossed aside after you grab your trusty vibrator, settling onto your back once more with huff. All it takes is a press of a button for the device to come to life, buzzing in your hand as you trail it up your thighs. A gasp escapes you when you pass it over your mound, brushing against your clit and sending a jolt of pleasure through you.

“Oh my god,” you whimper when you finally press the vibrating head directly onto your sensitive clit, legs spreading further apart as you increase the intensity. You could clearly hear the raise in Jungkook’s moans, and that's when the first irrational thought pops into your mind.

How easy would it be for you to head over to his place and deal with both of your problems. Surely Jungkook wouldn’t have an issue with you offering to suck his dick, wouldn’t mind letting you sink down onto him if it was just a friendly favor.

The little devil on your shoulder tells you it would be mutually beneficial, urging you to get up and walk to Jungkook’s with the vibrator still in your hand, but you can’t. This alone felt like enough of a dirty secret, a secret you’d have absolutely no problem keeping because although you feel slightly ashamed, you couldn’t deny how turned on you are.

The flashes of all the times you��ve heard Jungkook with other people play in your mind, the screams of his name that he tried to muffle, pleas for him to go faster, the resounding smack of his palm on flesh that always left you wide eyed when you heard it. And you start to wonder if maybe you’d be into that, the feeling of his large tattooed hand connecting with your ass, gently tapping against your cheek for you to open up for his cock.

That fantasy is like the first ember needed to start the fire inside of you, spreading uncontrollably until you’re bucking into your vibrator, teeth biting down on your lip to keep any potential moans of his name from slipping out.

“Fuck, fuck,” he chants, the same fire burning within him. Maybe your minds are linked telepathically, his thoughts gravitating to the same filthy fantasy you had. Jungkook was very much an ass man, knowing very well how good your butt looked in jeans from how often he stared at it, he could only imagine how good it would look as he fucked you from behind. Picturing the way it would bounce back from the force of his thrusts, eyes glued to the way you’d soak his cock, mimicking the tightness of your walls with a firm grip of his palm.

Jungkook can sense his orgasm approaching, leaves his chest feeling tight as he pants, legs gliding along his sheets for leverage to continue fucking into his hand. You’re not far off either, vibrator set to the highest setting you can practically feel your bones rattling, free hand slipped under your shirt as you pinch at your pebbled nipples. You’re both on the brink of falling over the edge, the same question playing in your mind: where would you want Jungkook to cum?

As his moans get breathier, whiny in a way you’d never imagine them to be, you mentally decide that you’d want him to cum inside of you, wanting to see the way his cute face would twist up in pleasure as he filled you up. Jungkook hopes you would, throwing all responsible thinking aside for that sweet moment of ecstasy and the mental picture is enough to finally push him over.

“Ah shit, baby,” he cries out in his room—thankfully having half the mind to not cry out your name as he came—eyes rolling back as his cock twitches in his palm, ribbons of cum splashing onto his stomach and chest. The warmth hits his skin, more droplets continuing to leak out as his palm milks his orgasm, stomach hiccuping and back arching from the stimulation.

The choked moan is what has your own orgasm washing over you, your palm slapping over your mouth so hard you know you’ll feel the ache later but you don’t care. A muffled gasp blends with the buzzing of your toy, thighs tensing up as your body tingles and writhes around on your sheets.

The only thing you can think of is Jungkook, the charming smile he’d give you when he listened to you rant about anything, his annoying habit of rolling up his sleeves to show off his muscles, the cute scowl on his face whenever you managed to beat him at Mario Kart, and the soft feeling of his alcohol coated lips on yours. It leaves you feeling warm as your orgasm flows through you, lying limp on the bed as you mewl at the sensitivity.

When you realize your thoughts have strayed from ‘pure sexy Jungkook fantasyland’, and switched over to ‘Jeon Jungkook your adorable neighbor’, your eyes go wide, finger immediately going to turn off the vibrator. In your haste to shut it off, you click the wrong button, changing the pulsing settings and nearly screaming when the device starts to buzz erratically against your overly sensitive clit.

With a strained gasp you yank it away from yourself, turn it off and throw it aside, horribly miscalculating the size of your bed and watching in horror as it lands on the floor with a loud thud. The complete silence from both sides makes the noise sound deafening, and all you can do is sit on your bed, half naked, and hope Jungkook is still too busy basking in his post orgasm bliss to hear the bang.

Although the blood is still pumping in his ears, he heard the thud clearly. His heart stops in his chest as he lays there, too scared to breathe in case he’d somehow make too much noise, suddenly afraid of being too loud after he had just made a show of himself. Jungkook slowly sits himself up, grimacing at the stickiness on his stomach before pressing his ear against his headboard to try to hear anything else.

All you want to do is yank the covers over yourself and go to sleep, pretend your horrendous date and your dirty thoughts about your friend never happened. The sobering mentality that comes after an orgasm settles into you, leaving you staring at the floor with a crease between your brows as you wonder what the hell came over you.

When Jungkook hears nothing else, he sighs in relief, hauling himself out of bed to grab another pair of underwear before entering his bathroom to clean up. As he stares at his own reflection in the mirror, he frowns at how pathetic he feels. The throbbing headache of his earlier drinks is already starting to kick in, body now sweaty from exertion, stomach covered in his cum.

“Such a loser,” he grumbles out, grabbing a wad of tissues to wipe away the mess on his skin before walking back out. Here he was, getting off to the thought of you, while you were out having your post-breakup wild phase.

His hands grab his phone as he reaches his nightstand, flopping back onto the bed and unlocking the device. It’s now one in the morning, and you still hadn’t text him, which either meant you were having the time of your life, or Jungkook had to track down this Jung Hoseok. The slightly protective side of him won’t allow him to sleep until he hears back from you, fingers already typing out a message and hitting send.

Jungkook 1:23am : you safe or am i gonna have to go all Liam Neeson on this guy?

When your phone vibrates on your nightstand you gasp, grabbing it before it could make any more noise. Seeing Jungkook’s name flash on the screen makes your blood run cold, already imagining what the text could be: calling you dirty for getting off on him, making fun of you, telling you to come ove—no stop that.

Finally mustering up the courage, you open it up, a small laugh spilling out as you read his message, relief flooding through you as you realize that meant he thought you were still with Hoseok.

Y/N 1:26am : oh yeah, you gonna show him your very particular set of skills? lol

Y/N 1:26am : i just got home though

Y/N 1:26am : like right now

Y/N 1:26am : still sitting in my living room

Y/N 1:27am : haha

He laughs at your string of texts, something you hear as he settles into bed. Jungkook ebbs away the small feeling of jealousy in his chest, trying to see the silver lining of this. You weren’t rushing to tell him anything about your date which meant it either went so good you wanted to keep it to yourself, or it was subpar and you wouldn’t be seeing this yellow sunglass wearing copycat again.

Jungkook 1:29am : glad you got home safe, goodnight y/n!

Sending back a goodnight text, you lock your phone and slide deeper into bed, pulling the sheets up to your chin as you stare at the ceiling. You already know the only thing you’ll be dreaming about is your cute neighbor with a bunny smile and body proportions that contradicted it. And as Jungkook lays in bed, wondering if he’ll have to push the crush aside, you’re barely coming to terms with the fact that the small glowing feeling that came with being around him might be something else.

Every single one of your interactions gets rewinded and played back like a seamless montage, remembering just how many almost moments there was between you. The way his eyes would flash down to your lips whenever you playfully argued on your couch, hands yanking the remotes from his in a game of tug of war that left you way too close in the heat of the moment. How he’d let you braid his hair anytime you found a new youtube tutorial, his starry eyes staring at you with so much adoration it made your stomach flip, brushing it off as love for a friend.

Then came the jokes from your friends, constantly teasing you about Jungkook, playfully saying they would try to sleep with him just because they liked the scowl on your face, and how quickly you tried to play it off. How the sweet old lady from the convenience store downstairs always assumed you were dating when you came in together, the low jab she sent when you walked in with Hajoon and she said she preferred you with Jungkook. That argument had been one of the ones that left him bolting out of your apartment with a nasty slam of the door, spewing nasty words at you, calling you blind for not seeing it and dumb for acting like you had no idea what he was talking about.

And for the first time, you come to the sudden realization that Hajoon was right. His deep set insecurities about Jungkook had stemmed from scraps of the truth, not just from him but from you too. The amount of times you’d find a way to slide Jungkook’s name into a conversation about anything, telling him funny stories about him, too lost in thought to see that while you were giggling as you reminisce, he was staring at you in disbelief.

The final thought that makes you want a blackhole to swallow you up, comes in the form of you, grabbing Jungkook’s face before planting a kiss on his unsuspecting lips at the club. You want to scream into your pillow as you recall it, how he had almost leaned back in to kiss you again before you had sobered him up with your dumb question rooted in revenge.

“Oh my god, I’m such a bitch.” you whimper. Subjecting Jungkook to be your wingman, jokingly telling him he should be your fake boyfriend more often, asking him for tips with hook ups. If everyone else could see it but you, he probably thought you were purposely friendzoning him.

The guilt piles on top of you as you start to piece together every moment that flew over your head, only making you bury yourself deeper into your sheets. It makes your heart twist, taking note of how Jungkook was always so quick to put a smile on his face despite how naive you were to it all, wondering if maybe it was too late to try to make something of this now. How many times could you call Jungkook ‘bro’ and treat him like you didn’t see him romantically, before he decided there was no hope for him anymore.

So as you force yourself to sleep, nerves and uncertainty weighing heavy on your mind, Jungkook snores away as he dreams of the almost moments that could have been.

#heartsforbts #btswritingcafe #btsghostie #bangtansorciere #bangtaninn #ficswithluv #btscreatorscorner #jungkook smut #jeongguk smut #bts smut #jungkook angst #jeon jungkook #bts fics #new

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peculiarpatches · 4 years

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𝙃𝙖𝙧𝙡𝙚𝙮 𝙌𝙪𝙞𝙣𝙣 𝙭 𝙁!𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧: 𝙅𝙚𝙖𝙡𝙤𝙪𝙨𝙮

This is my first time writing a Dom&Sub GXG so please be nice to me. This involves smut. Dominate Harley, submissive reader. Slapping, spanking, dirty talk, oral, fingering. I just watched Birds of Prey and thought of this halfway through, so, lmao. I hope yall like it. And remember, feedback is appreciated so please give a ‘like’ and or reblog. It’d mean the world to me. Also, if you have any suggestions, just message me and I might write them! :) lots of love. xx

｡☆✼★━━━━━━━━━━━━★✼☆｡

Harley was trying, damn it. Give her some credit, cut her some slack. Try as she may, the anger and jealousy only continued to bubble up, no matter how hard she tried to swallow it down, it kept rising in the back of her throat, eager to come out and explode everywhere. That and it might be a bit of bile, too.... as gross as that may be, more than likely, yeah, it was a mixture of both.

Harley had been drinking a lot of liquor as if the clear substance poured in the small glass shots were water rather than vodka.

Harley bit on her bottom lip so hard she could taste blood on the tip of her tongue. So, she continues.

Continues to drink until she feels every other emotion besides the bitterness feeling she was getting as she watched her best friend, (Y/N) on the dance floor. (Y/N) and Harley were like two peas in a pod, inseparable those gals were. You'd never see Harley without (Y/N) by her side, the same way with (Y/N). They were attached to each other like glue.

Expect of course, right now, they were not. Harley sat, sulking, at one of the back booths of the club, eight empty glasses pushed aside, her hands holding up her face as she pouts and huffs to nobody other than herself.

"I came here to have fun with her, not her to have fun without me," Harley whined, the pout on her face only growing bigger. Groaning, she facepalms and shook her head from side to side, feeling frustrated tears starting to build in the corner of her eyes but she blinks them away before they could reveal themselves.

Her head snaps forward, so fast she swears she gets whiplash, when she hears (Y/N)'s laughter fill the air. Her laugh always caused goose bumps to bite at her skin and a chill to run up and down her back. Harley shivered as if she were cold but that was far from reality.

In reality, Harley suddenly felt hot. It felt as if she was on fire.

Then she realizes, there's no use in trying to stop these feelings or try to push them away. They were bound to come out sooner or later. (Y/N) was hers. Nobody else's. End of story. The two have hooked up before, all of which the two were either really drunk and or had one too many pot brownies, but they have gotten together before.

And as of right now, Harley was going to show (Y/N) just how better off she is with Harley by her side rather than some six feet muscular guy that (Y/N) was currently grinding up against. Harley growls as she stands up, trying her best not to fall as she exits out of the booth and pushes people out of the way before finding (Y/N). "C'mon. We're leaving. Now." Harley barked, painted fingernails curling around (Y/N)'s wrist. "Well, hey there, good lookin', might I ask what you're doing, stealing away this beaut from me? If you're jealous, don't fret, love. There's more of me to go around. Sharing is caring, ain't that right, babydoll?" Harley's blood boils at the pet name he gives to (Y/N) and before she realizes it, her fist comes in contact with his face and her leg rises up as she kicks him in the groin. "I said we're leaving." She spits.

Taking (Y/N)'s hand, Harley drags her through the whispering crowd, half of the people laughing at how a man that tall and muscular so easily dropped to the floor with one swift movement, both from the hand and leg; others taking their phones out and snapping pictures of the scene. Harley didn't care if people gave her glares as she walked past. Harley could care less. She drags (Y/N) towards the back exit door, kicking it down as she then marches down to her apartment complex which wasn't even a foot away from the club. She's practically dragging (Y/N) behind her like a rag doll but she didn't care. All she cared about was showing (Y/N) who she belonged to. Once the door was open, Harley twirls around and bends forward, picking the girl up before walking inside the small space that she called 'home'. It wasn't much but she loved it, regardless. Harley drops (Y/N) on the couch before crawling up and over her body, pinning her arms above her head. During this whole 'meltdown' (if that's what you want to call it) (Y/N) remained quiet. As quiet as a church mouse. She didn't dare utter a single word, didn't dare say anything. She was either too drunk or too scared to speak. "Babygirl," Harley's voice isn't soft and sweet, but sinister and cold. (Y/N)'s breath hitches and she shudders as Harley holds her face with the palm of her hand before backing her with it, earning a small gasp to spill out from (Y/N)'s lips.

"You are in trouble, do you understand? You and your slutty fuckin' self. Who do you think you are, grinding against another man as if you want a cock when you already have a plastic one at home? Besides, is my tongue and fingers not cutting it out for you anymore, sweetheart?" Harley's words were laced with malice and held as much venom as an Inland Taipan.

"Don't you know who you belong to? You're mine. Always was, always will be. It's about time you realize that." Her voice is loud, booming, really, it causes (Y/N)'s ears to ring from how loud her best friend was being but all of it - the anger, the bottled up jealousy and affection exploding out of her - sent a shiver down her spine. It was also making her soaked, dripping with wetness.

"F-Fuck..." it's the first thing she's said all day and a bit of Harley is thankful the girl still knows how to speak, that she didn't totally scare her off with showing her dominate side. "I'm really sorry, Harl-" "No." Harley cuts her off, pressing her fingertips to (Y/N)'s lips, smearing lipstick all over her fingers as she does so. "You know what to call me." Harley stood up, crawling off of her best friend as she points to the couch. "Lay on your stomach, ass hanging in the air. You're getting a spanking." (Y/N) feels warm and tingly all over and she's sure it's a combination of both being so turned on and drunk. Either way, like a good girl, she follows orders. "Mistress..." Her voice is weak, barely above a whisper. "I really am sorry." Her voice shook, as well as her body; every part of her was trembling and shaking. It wasn't out of fear, fuck no - she shook with nothing but excitement. Harley shakes her head, rolling her eyes as she watches how horny - how desperate - (Y/N) was. "Look at you, sprawled all out, legs separated, all for me to taste and to enjoy." Harley runs her hand over (Y/N)'s skirt, lifting the fabric up and touches the outside of her panties, loving the way the lace feels underneath the tips of her fingers. She was always a sucker for lace.

Harley pulls her panties down, slowly peeling it off of her thighs and down to her ankles. Licking her lips, Harley smiles a seductive grin, her own wetness pooling inbetween her thighs. (Y/N) was beautiful, without a doubt.

More and more, each second of each passing day, Harley found herself falling more and more in love with the girl. She loved everything about the girl. She could list off everything, tell all of it to (Y/N) but that'd take way too long and she felt as if time was running out and all Harley - really - wanted to do was taste (Y/N) on her tongue, in her mouth.

Harley guides her fingers across (Y/N)'s ass, ghostly brushing along the skin before picking her hand up and slamming it down, earning a loud whimper and yelp to come from (Y/N)'s lips. "Fuck.... more, please, mistress, give me more. I've been so bad, such a naughty little thing, I deserve it. Please." Harley grinned wickedly, giggling softly as she raises her hand again and lifts it back down. One slap followed another which followed another. (Y/N) was begging for it and Harley fucking loved every single second of it. "I know you deserve it because you're a slut, aren't you, princess? You're a filthy, dirty whore." Harley slams her hand onto (Y/N)'s ass again, rougher than the previous ones.

(Y/N) whimpers and pushes back up against Harley's hand, nodding eagerly. "Y-yes.... need to be punished. Please, punish me." (Y/N) sobs, broken little cries falling from her mouth. "That's just what you want, isn't it, baby?" Harley cooed, taking her hand off of (Y/N)'s bottom before reaching down and gazing her thumb over (Y/N)'s cute little clit.

"You want to be punished, don't you? Because you like it, right? Love it when I fuck you with a fake, plastic cock. Love the feeling of my fingers being buried deep inside your cunt. You love all of it - punishment or no punishment - because you're a fucking slut." (Y/N)'s whines are - somehow - even louder than before and she's nodding rapidly, Harley giggles at the sight because her movements remind her of a bobblehead. "Please," (Y/N) begged. "Please, fuck me. Give it to me, nice and rough, just the way I like it. Show me who I belong to, Harley.... mistress, I meant... Mistress, please... I want it. I need it. I want your fingers, your tongue, anything, please." Harley knows by the sound of her voice, (Y/N) has tears in her eyes and she's willing to be fucked just by anything at this point. "Filthy thing, you are." Harley murmurs, licking her lips before sinking to the floor. "Turn over, baby. Let's see how soaked you are." Doing as she's told, (Y/N) rolls over and sits up, back against the cushions of the couch as she displays her pussy for Harley. "Want Mistress to fuck you, huh? Fuck your tight little core until you're sore in the morning and can't walk without a limp? Want me to mark you up so everybody knows you're mine?" All (Y/N) does is nod, far too flustered for words. "Say it. I want to hear you say it." Harley growled as her fingers shove their way inside (Y/N)'s eager and dripping wet cunt. Moaning, (Y/N) nods as she throws her head back. "Mark me, Har. Make me your bitch. Fuck me like you hate me, please." Harley smiles widely as she adds another finger, happily going to do exactly that. "You're so tight, baby girl.... fucking dripping on my fingers." Harley cooed as she scissors her fingers back and forth, pushing and pulling, twisting and turning. Before (Y/N) has any time to reply, or even say anything at all, Harley's mouth is at her heat and (Y/N) groans at the sudden and unexpected gesture. Harley hums, sending vibrations all over (Y/N)'s body. This causes her hips to jerk upward, moan after moan slipping out of her mouth.

Harley swirls her tongue back and forth, inside and out, making sure her pussy wasn't going to go untouched. Every part of her womanhood, she licked and sucked on. Harley gazed up and a blush washes over her cheeks as she notices (Y/N) had already been looking down at her.

She was sparkling, loving the triumph at the mess she was making out of her dear and lovely best friend. (Y/N) could feel that white and hot tension building in the pit of her stomach. Her entire body was broken out with goose bumps and she was shaking, trembling like a leaf.

Her moans grew louder in volume, more high pitched, her nails dug into the cushion of the couch and as she closes her eyes, she's quick to reopen them due to the fact Harley had stopped what she was doing. "Hey, I was enjoying myself-" "This is a punishment, remember, doll? Now, be a good girl and eat my pussy out. You were born to be my good pussy eater, weren't you? So, get to work. Get to pleasing me; your Mistress." (Y/N) grunts, loving the foul language she spoke as she gets off the couch and falls to her knees, quick to put her mouth to good use. Above her, Harley hummed in delight, slowly rocking her hips back and forth against (Y/N)'s warm and wet mouth. "There ya go... there's my good girl." Harley purred, lids fluttering close as she enjoys the way (Y/N)'s tongue feels against her clit.

Harley hadn't known how worked up she was until a few seconds pass and just as quickly as they started, she's spilling all her fluids and juices onto (Y/N)'s face, coating her skin with her cum. "Fuck... 'm sorry about that, princess...... You just had me so worked up. Really, I've been thinkin about you all day. And I saw you with that guy and I just.... I got a little jealous, y'know?" "No reason to be," (Y/N) replied, licking off the remains of Harley's orgasm off of her lips. "I was just havin' some fun. Besides, like you said, I'm yours. Always will be, always have been. Now, enough of this mushy chick flick moment, are you going to pound me and wreck me or not?" Harley laughs and nods, taking (Y/N) up off of her feet and kisses her, not minding the taste of herself on her best friend - well, girlfriend's - lips. "Let's go then, shall we?" (Y/N) giggles loudly as Harley, as she had done before, lifts her up and carries her off to the bedroom. "We're together now though, right?" "Yes, of course, dumbass." "Just needed that confirmed." "Of course, baby, I love you. I’m sorry I had such a hard time admitting that until today... Now, open that mouth up and let me choke you with this fake cock before I dick you down with it."

#Margot Robbie #Margot Robbie x Reader #Margot Robbie x femreader #GXG #my works #Harley Quinn x femreader #Harley Quinn x reader #Harley Quinn fanfic #Harley Quinn imagines #Margot Robbie imagines #Margot Robbie fanfic #Harley Quinn #Harley Quinn x reader smut #Harley Quinn smut #GXG smut #cierra's stories

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wondernus · 3 years

Text

12: We're on a boat!

pairing: professor!seungcheol x baker!reader sm au

chapter genre: fluff

chapter warnings: cursing, mentions of food and TONS of alcohol (it’s new year’s eve)

wc: 2.1k

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“Minghao, that was disgusting,” you grimaced at the aftertaste the alcohol left in your mouth, passing your empty shot glass back to your friend. The ten of you were crowded around Seungkwan’s car in the parking lot by the dock, pregaming before heading onto the yacht for the New Year’s celebration event. Vernon and Chan dropped some of you off earlier and immediately drove away after seeing Minghao’s usually calm aura change into a rather sinister one. The World Literature professor had somehow been able to sneak a bottle of kaoliang liquor and some shot glasses in the inner pocket of his blazer and was currently getting everybody in your group to finish the entire bottle before going in.

All of you were at least three drinks in, and you didn’t know if it was the alcohol talking or the fact that you were surrounded by the people you loved, but you were having a great time. The boys were clumped together on the dancefloor, Seungkwan and DK having an intense dance battle while Wonwoo laughed and clapped from behind. The rest of the boys had their arms around each other and swayed to the beat of the music, singing at the top of their lungs. You and Hoshi were sitting at the bar within eye distance of the boys, both harboring a glass of iced water in your hands. Seungkwan’s motherly instincts immediately went into full effect after his drunk radar went off after seeing you and Hoshi try to leave your group a few times hand-in-hand to dance battle strangers around you. He decided to put you two in “time-out” for the next few minutes. However, when a familiar beat came on, Seungkwan and Seokmin started shouting for Hoshi to join them, the “time-out” rule completely forgotten. The man sitting beside you hesitated for a minute before turning to you with pleading eyes and a pout. You nodded for him to go, and he immediately jumped off of his barstool to run to the group, not before hugging you and shouting, “You know where to find us, right?” to which you shouted back it was pretty hard to lose the group when the three tallest men in the club belonged to your group. Soon the trio was screaming the lyrics to their favorite song while an all familiar “Go Soonyoung. Go Soonyoung. Go Soonyoung” filled the air. You sat and smiled at the rowdy group.

Unfortunately, the water wasn’t working because the longer you sat on the barstool, the drunker you got. You winced at the brightness of your phone screen and immediately regretted not setting your phone to night mode. Vernon was updating you on his pancake adventure with Chan and the baby. Your stomach growled at the sight of the stacks of pancakes, and you suddenly had an urge to buy the overpriced food they were selling above deck. Just then, someone tapped you on your shoulder, and you turned around to see a very familiar face you haven’t seen in a while.

“Dr. Yoon?” you were definitely drunk. There was no way he was here. Have you manifested the image of him for so long that he would literally show up when you least expected?

“Oh yn!” he was grinning while holding two paper trays filled with fries. “You want some fries?”

It turned out Dr. Yoon, who reintroduced himself as Jeonghan, lost his friend a while back while buying fries and spent the last few minutes walking around, trying to convince the random people around him to take his extra tray of fries. It never really occurred to him that people usually wouldn’t accept food from strangers, especially at clubs, until you told him. The two of you managed to drunkenly run to one of the booths at the side and snag it immediately after it cleared up. Even more so, Jeonghan spent the last few minutes catching up with you and feeding you the greasy fries while you desperately tried to sober up - your whole upper half leaned against him like he was your life support. He repeatedly reassured you and said that he found it cute, but you only felt more embarrassed. You were never going to pregame with Minghao ever again. Kaoliang liquor was dangerous.

-----

“Dude, I can’t believe we lost yn,” Seungcheol was going to have a mental breakdown, which, by the way, was definitely not a good feeling to have when drunk. He recalled sitting you and Hoshi down at the bar and keeping an eye on you two before blacking out after Minghao and Jun returned to the group with another round of shots. The next thing he knew, he was sitting on one of the sofas on the deck of the yacht, the other boys sprawled out next to him, the cold ocean breeze cool against his skin.

“Did we miss the countdown?” Jun rubbed his eyes and shoved Hoshi’s sleeping body off of his. Wonwoo shook his head letting him know that they didn’t miss the countdown.

Woozi approached the group with a grin on his face. There was a man walking alongside him who seemed to be his acquaintance. “Guys,” Woozi addressed the group, causing the men to groan and look up at him, “This is my coworker, Joshua.”

His friend waved at the group and his eyes widened in excitement after realizing who was in front of him, “Dude, you never told me you were friends with the Twitter dilfs.”

Accepting Joshua into the group was fairly easy. He also lost his friend who came with him and spent the last half hour wandering around the yacht before he bumped into Woozi who was in line for the restroom. He reassured Seungcheol that his yn friend he was continuously calling for was going to be fine because everybody in their friend group had yn’s location and what was yn going to do? Swim? Luckily, yn texted Mingyu earlier and told him that they were fine, and Seungcheol sighed in relief. The boys quickly accepted Joshua into the group after Woozi told him to buy them all a round of shots to which Joshua replied, “Who do you think I am? The next three rounds are on me,” garnering an eruption of cheers from his new friends.

Just like that, they were back on the dancefloor ten minutes before the countdown, blackouts and hangovers completely forgotten, drunker than ever. They made a last-minute plan to ditch the dancefloor and celebrate the new year on the ship's deck after being pushed by a mob of people in all directions. They were practically a fresh and unbroken set of pool balls waiting for someone to start the match at that point. The fresh air they felt was a great complement to their sweaty skin, and it was nice to not need to shout at others while the bass from the speakers constantly reverberated in their ears. There were still a few minutes left until the countdown. Seungkwan, Seokmin, and Soonyoung were still gone after previously stating that they needed to use the restroom together. In the distance, Mingyu, Jun, and Joshua, who left to take pictures, all let out a collective scream and jumped up and down in excitement.

“I can’t believe it finally happened.”

“You too? We’ve been rooting for them since the first pineapple bun.”

Before Seungcheol could turn around to look at what caused the commotion, Jihoon made a joke about daring Soonyoung to jump overboard and was immediately lectured by Wonwoo who dragged Seungcheol along with him. An announcement blared through the speakers that the countdown would start in a minute and the bakery boys yelled at the rest of the group to join them.

-----

10! Seungkwan, Seokmin, and Soonyoung managed to return to the group just in time, but not without a tray of free tequila shots from the different patrons around them. Apparently, the people around them really enjoyed their company, whether it was when they were tearing it up on the dance floor or whether it was when they were joking with those waiting in the long line for the restroom. Jun looked at the shots with so much fear in his eyes while Minghao patted him on his back.

9! Jeonghan and you also spent the last hour receiving free drinks from those around you left and right.

“People must be very generous tonight,” you thought out loud.

“Yeah, I definitely haven’t been telling them that we’re newly engaged,” Jeonghan winked at you.

The both of you were standing on the deck of the superyacht, leaning against the railing. The captain dropped the yacht's anchor a while back when the yacht reached a place where one could turn back to see the twinkling lights coming from docks and piers from the ocean. The yacht gently rocked with the waves, and you were happily wrapped in Jeonghan’s arms, your drunkness a now numb and tingly sensation. The two of you were staring at the ocean and admiring how pretty the night sky was on that particular day. You didn’t see it, but he was smiling at you like you were the greatest thing in the world – like the feeling of biting into a freshly baked chocolate chip cookie, the edges crispy and the center gooey, both the chocolate and dough melting into one.

8! Seokmin handed Seungcheol a shot.

7! Mingyu complained about there being no lime and salt.

6! Seungcheol heard a familiar laugh that made him forget about his surroundings for a split second.

5! Wonwoo put his arm around Seungcheol’s shoulder.

4! Jeonghan spun you around to face him.

3! Seokmin accidentally took his shot early.

2! Seungkwan quickly slipped his shot into the older boy’s hand and took the empty glass before the rest of the group took notice to what happened. It was fine. He was the designated driver after all.

1! The crowd erupted in cheers, and the group clinked their glasses and tilted their heads back to take their shots. Fireworks lit up the sky in a multitude of vibrant colors. Jun was busy yelling, “Chase with a smile. Chase with a smile,” at those who were complaining about the lack of lime and salt. Soonyoung was trying to hug Jihoon, who kept pushing him away until he finally gave in. It was a new year; he would allow it just once. Seungkwan was in the middle of recording a video of the group with his flash on which resulted in him accidentally blinding Seungcheol for a split second. This caused Seungcheol to turn away from the group to try to blink the dizziness away. When he finally recuperated, he couldn’t help but stare at the scene in front of him.

“Oh my god,” Seungcheol groaned, “I’m so glad we made the sexiling rule. They were literally sucking each other’s faces off. It was disgusting.”

Joshua raised his eyebrow at him. He also saw what happened. “Dude are you ok?” he questioned. “All they did was kiss once.”

The rest of the group quickly turned to see what Seungcheol was talking about and immediately burst into excitement when they realized who they were looking at. You broke away from Jeonghan and buried your face in his chest to hide in embarrassment when you recognized the group of voices calling your name. The man beside you jokingly covered you with his blazer to hide you when he realized you were flustered. It was a really cute and sweet sight, and it was custom to kiss someone on New Year’s. So why did seeing you kiss someone else make Seungcheol feel so annoyed?

the kids are going to be alright

synopsis: life as we know it (2010 film) au | when an unexpected accident leaves you and your blind date from five years ago to become caretakers of your mutual goddaughter, you are forced to learn how to navigate parenthood all while trying to balance work and social life.

a/n: join the taglist!

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taglist: @seokcalibur, @skylions-den, @semicolorn, @boowanie, @niikipuff, @serenadesvt, @tfmingyu, @jeonjungkaka, @shiningstar-byulxx, @onigiriyuki, @justasoftstan, @fr0gluver, @fairyjius, @happyvitamin, @noniesgirl, @hanniewife, @amymoonl, @melkwhore

unable to tag: @fairyjius, @hanniewife

#seventeen social media au #seventeen sm au #svt smau #scoups x reader #seungcheol x reader #scoups fluff #scoups angst #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen fake texts

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eureka-its-zico · 4 years

Text

Irrevocably Yours

Request: hey! can i request a scenario of jungkook being a rich kid who has ome of his legs is leg failure , basically can't walk without a cane , And he falls in love with a normal girl , and they end up running away , happy ending plz , also if u can , LIT IT Up with smut ' thank u ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

A/N: So. This request was sent to me a long ass time ago. I mean a LONG time ago, and I spent so much time working on it...it became too long. So I broke it up in half. Just to see if anyone actually becomes interested in how this ends. Just to see if anyone still reads anything I write. So if you end up enjoying this, please let me know and I’ll post the last of this. I have so many things buried inside my google docs that need to be set free from hibernation.

Also, I’m sorry if this isn’t any good. I’ve rewritten this a thousand times trying to fix it, and I’ve done all I can for now. I hope someone out there enjoyed this craziness. And to the original person who asked for this, if you ever see this, I’m sorry it took so long. P.s. I also took creative liberties and changed it up a little. Much love, Jenn

Jungkook x Reader

Word count: 13,756 (yeah I know, it was longer before I halved it. Sorry!)

Genre: fluffy/Smutty(later)/First Love drama sorts mess

A part of you would always remember the first day you’d met Jeon Jungkook. His presence standing in the doorway to the classroom held every single one of your classmate's attention along with yours. Jungkook silently demanded to be noticed, even though in a way he wanted no one to notice him at all. The classroom felt louder than usual, or maybe that was just how you recalled it. Maybe it's what caused the ringing in your ears when the room was swallowed up in silence. The sound of his cane hitting the stained linoleum; ticking like a time bomb with every step.

At first you couldn't see why he necessarily needed it. Jungkook was a master of hiding things. Even pain. It wasn’t until he’d reached the teachers desk, his hip moving to rest against it to ease the extra strain off his good leg, that the stories of his accident became true. Not one of you were willing to look too long at the challenge in his face. Defiance turning his soft features bitter as he glanced out across the room. Jungkook wanted to appear strong; to dare anyone to mutter even a word that he wasn’t. That he wasn’t the same person he was before the accident.

He must have been able to fool your home room teacher into forgetting. His eagerness to introduce Jungkook only caused him to accidentally come too close to his legs in passing. The teachers’ waist moved and harmlessly bump against Jungkook’s bad leg. A small movement that was enough to change Jungkook’s entire demeanor for just a second.

The whole room collectively took a breath; waiting for him to scream out in pain. To turn savage and yell or curse at the stupidity of the teacher. Jungkook did none of it. He continued to look out into the room with his chin held high.

You could see, however, through the crinkle by his eyes and how heavily he now leaned on his cane that it’s caused him a great deal of pain. A brief moment in showing what he tried to hide and if you weren’t staring so hard at him, you were sure you would’ve missed it.

An infamous legend among other schools as his face showed up on Sports articles that featured proud features of parents beaming excitedly at cameras. Taekwondo and track metal’s around his neck by the dozens. Grades to match the intensity of his athletic drive with a rumor that if he tried something for the first time, Jungkook would still be phenomenal at whatever it was.

Even without ever actually meeting him - everyone in that classroom knew who he was. Jeon Jungkook was a hard man not to hear about.

In the beginning of the year there’d been a different headline for him, however. He’d been the passenger in a friend's car that was struck by a drunk driver. The ferocity of the impact leaving the car looking like a bow. Jungkook lost a friend that night, and part of the mobility in his left leg. The driver himself died instantly and you weren't sure if that was justice enough for the two boys who’d lost so much in a matter of three seconds.

And with so much, yet so little known about him you found yourself unable to join the others in measuring up the boy in front of you.

Jungkook was taller than you thought he would be, or maybe you’d silently been hoping the universe wouldn’t be so cruel to give someone talent and every single attractive feature known to man. He’d been played up like he was a god among the rest of you feeble mortals. You figure’d girls were overacting, I mean it happens. Imagining after listening to all their swooning, you’d somehow shockingly find out he was nothing more than your average - ordinary - boy.

Jungkook was anything but ordinary.

His lean frame still retained years of training that wasn't so easily hidden, even under the layers of the school uniform. You could see the care he still placed on his outward appearance. The rising star who was still handsome, even underneath all his brooding. His school uniform strained against tight muscles in his arms and, worse, was his legs. Your cheeks heating into an embarrassed blush as his eyes landed on what seemed like your desk. It was silly to think he’d caught you gawking. Everyone was gawking at him, but even a millisecond of his gaze made your cheeks light up with embarrassment at the idea of being caught.

There was gossip of him not wanting to go back to his old school; his old life. You didn't really blame him. Why be stuck in a place where there were millions of memories of a time you had with a close friend? Of having the ability to walk down the halls without everyone looking at you like you were damaged goods.

“Everyone pay attention!” Mr. Choi shouted.

It all seemed unnecessary. Your attention was already on him whether he wanted it or not.

“I’d like to welcome our transfer student, Jeon Jungkook. I expect you all to be on your best behavior.”

“I don't need you to defend me,” he snapped.

He started moving his way down the aisle towards the only empty seat in the room: the one next to you.

You quickly turned away from him and started cleaning up your space. Jungkook got to the desk faster than you thought and dropped his backpack down on top of the desk. His long body slumped down into the seat, placing his cane next to the window seal.

“We’re going to continue with our previous lecture from yesterday. You can share with Y/N until you get your own books.”

You flipped to chapter eighteen with your many notes scattered inside. Your eyes giving him a sidelong glance before sliding the book neatly between the desks. Jungkook didn't bother to look at the pages: his gaze was locked elsewhere. Somewhere outside the window with the freedom far beyond the gates of the school.

The enter class you’d spun a hundred different sentences in your mind. Each one playing out in your head as pure idiotic or unnecessary. You just couldn’t shake the feeling that it felt wrong letting him sit there like no one cares. To be a part of the prying gazes of the class; to know his name and him not knowing yours in return. You weren't sure why you gave a shit so much, anyways, but you did.

At the sound of the bell he was the first one to hop back onto his feet. His hand instinctively taking hold of the cane to keep him propped up as he moved to situate his backpack over his shoulders. You’d followed close behind him and gathered up your things.

You didn't see him again until fifth period. His brooding presence in the back of the class hung like a dark cloud you couldn't shake. You knew you weren't necessarily the most cheerful person in the room, but even Jungkook’s sour puss attitude was making you want to throw glitter at him.

He didn't acknowledge you when you came to your usual seat at the window, and it didn't bother you. No one usually acknowledged you anyways. What did bother you was that he was sitting in your window seat. Statistics was by far your least favorite subject this year, and the one thing that kept you sane was that window seat.

“That's my spot.”

Your voice didn't hold any hint of malice. It was just definitive: you wanted your seat. Jungkook didn't look at you straight away. His eyes still daydreaming through the window and the world beyond. When he did finally look at you, you were sure the annoyance in his face was meant to send you packing. Too bad for him you’d seen worse.

“Is that look supposed to scare me? It doesn't change the fact you're in my spot.”

“I don't see your name on it.”

Your laughter turned to a scoff; cut short by your disbelief.

“What are we in middle school? If you want to get technical, it was assigned by the teacher aka my name is theoretically on that seat. So -”

You acted like he was a pet you could shoo off your bed. The hand motion earning you his brow to raise in return.

“You’d really make a cripple get up?”

“Is that what we’re calling you? A cripple? Because it looks to me like you’re still capable of doing things, oh say, a paraplegic can't.”

The anger rolled through him suddenly like storm clouds. All the possibilities of playful mischief disappeared as he regarded you with so much hate, it was as if he’d struck you.

“Oh, really? I didn't realize that they were giving away M.D titles in high schools now.”

Your mouth opened to - to what? Apologize? The sensitive part of you told you that you should. His accident hadn't been a full year yet, and here you were badgering him. Yet, you knew if you continuously babied him like everyone else it was only going to do more harm than good. Your next choice of words were cut short when your teacher walked in and asked why you were still standing.

“He’s in my spot.”

God, now who sounded like they were in middle school? Your teacher seemed to draw a blank. His gaze moving from you to Jungkook then back to you.

“Just sit down, Y/N.”

You did so with a huff. Your arms pulling your backpack you’d sat down on the desk closer to you like a pillow. Just so you could rest your chin on top of it and tried to ignore the smirk that was now on Jungkook’s face.

After you’d gone to your next class you couldn't stop thinking about your exchange. It turned your mood sour the rest of the day, and you couldn't understand why. A part of you wondering if it was because of your choice of words or the defeat that shown all too bright in his doe eyes.

The end of the day couldn't have come fast enough. You just wanted to get home and out of your uniform and maybe get a chance to go take some photos before your parents got home. You were too preoccupied with thoughts of where you wanted to go, and what coffee shop you wanted to stop at, when you collided into the back of someone else. A loud curse followed suit of the sound of a cane dropping on pavement making your eyes shut tight and your throat constrict around a groan.

“Jesus, can't you watch where you’re goi- oh, it's you. Enjoy attacking cripples, do we?”

You opened your eyes to see a less than amused smile on his face. He acted more like a judge at your hearing and whatever sentencing he was giving out, it wasn’t in your favor.

“I’m sorry I wasn't paying attention.”

You moved to pick up his cane for him when his hand angrily swatted yours away making you jump back a step.

“I don't need your charity. I can do it myself!”

“No one said you couldn’t! I was only trying to be nice.”

“Yeah, well, go and be nice somewhere else.”

He situated his weight on his good leg and bent at the knee low enough for his hand to reach out and grab his second form of support. The movement so graceful that it left you stunned, but not as much as his words did.

“You know, just because something bad happened to you, it doesn't give you the right to be an asshole. You aren't the only person to lose someone or something important. Get over yourself.”

With your hands latched underneath the straps of your backpack you stomped around him. Not caring that you left him standing stone still. His mouth slightly agape as he watched you take your exit.

During your walk home, somehow, Jungkook plagued your thoughts. Your mind unable to comprehend why you were still thinking about him. It was the first time you’d met, and yet, you couldn’t stop thinking about him. If you were being honest with yourself you knew from replaying the last thing you said to him.The look on his face saying plainly that you were an asshole.

Everyone’s pain mattered. Grief and loss wasn’t measured by anyone else’s pain but the person who experienced it, and to diminish it in any way was unfair. Regret was building inside your chest and it was all you could do to keep your feet from sprinting back in his direction.

When you got home you went directly to your room, throwing your bag on the bed, and sulked to your desk. You had more pressing matters to attend to than a boys’ possible hurt feelings. No matter how many times you tried, however, you weren’t able to write out theories on government history or explain anatomical questions.

The only thing your brain appeared to focus on was how to apologize.

You thought about Jungkook while you showered and brushed your teeth. You thought of him when you laid in bed and struggled to find a way to sleep. Your mind playing out the million different possibilities of how your apology would be taken from him. You didn't necessarily understand what it felt like to have your dreams stolen from you. To be forced to cope with a new life you hadn’t asked for and the emptiness of losing someone you loved all in one go.

If the tables were turned and it was you, wouldn’t you feel equally as bitter?

The following morning in between toaster cooked waffles and fixing your uniform in the mirror, you’d resigned to apologizing to him. No matter how much thinking of it made your teeth grind and a growl rise in your chest at the thought. You imagined him sneering and replying with smart remarks and it caused your mind to waver, but you were better than the pettiness swelling in your chest. You were okay with knowing his prickled exterior came from something you couldn't ever understand.

You made sure all the time you had while you walked to school was used up by mumbling the speech you’d made up the night before. At crosswalks practicing the best stance that didn't appear threatening, was friendly, but wouldn't be misconstrued as flirting.

That was by far the last thing you wanted to happen in his eyes. Sure, Jungkook was undeniably attractive...as much as you would've loved to laugh sarcastically in his perfectly sculpted face that his obviously very masculine features did nothing to make you weak in the knees. That you hadn’t noticed when his elbows, still clad in his jacket, moved to rest on the desk it’d caused his biceps and shoulders to equally fight for whatever was left of the fabric. Or that small scar on his cheek caught your attention when he became annoyed; his tongue poking out at the side of his jaw.

No, you hadn't been paying an embarrassing amount of attention to him at all (or at the ridiculous outline of his thigh muscles in his school uniform) with every step he took.

So, since you hadn't personally taken notice of any of physically appealing traits, why would you flirt? You were well aware of the vast difference of not only your social scale, but also of your class ranking, and looks overall. You were lightyears away from ever being able to consider being more than a female acquaintance he happened to get stuck next to at school. He wasn't the first boy who was out of your league, and Jungkook wouldn't be the last. Why it bothered you so much was a child's thought you refused to entertain.

When you finally got to school you hurried up the steps and briskly made your way down the hall. Not stopping even after Jenny cursed after you for nudging her as you went by. As soon as you swung open the door for homeroom, your eyes landed on Jungkook’s position. His cane leaning against the desk, hands tucked inside the pockets of his uniform slacks as he leaned back against the chair.

His gaze was focused somewhere outside the window, completely blank and motionless, and you wondered if he could've been having a thought at all. He was close to being marked as unreal in your book when he blinked and turned his gaze towards you.

You hadn't realized you’d been staring until that moment. Your gaze dropping to the worn linoleum as you briskly made your way down to your desk. A mumbled, “Good morning,” falling like a bad habit from your lips while you came around the side to slid into the desk chair. Nervous hands clutching tightly to your bag as you stared straight ahead, unwilling to glance in his direction.

Somewhere between cursing your awkwardness and staring out the window like an escape hatch your teacher started the lecture. None of it to which you were paying attention too, which was probably why you heard him call your name. You jerked in your seat as he yelled it a second time. Your eyes no doubt wide from giggles that sounded around the room.

“Y/N, since you're listening, you can go ahead and answer number forty-seven in the workbook.”

Panic sent your eyes wide as you stared back at his expectant face: waiting for you to fail. You hadn't even taken your book out since you’d sat down, finally moving to do so, when you felt a light tap against your bag. It was enough to jerk your gaze away from the teacher and down to a completed book of all the problems done by Jungkook.

He cleared his throat and tucked his hands back inside the pockets of his trousers easily not understanding the severity of how his actions had left you wide-eyed in surprise. You were still taking too long, causing your teacher to prompt you with a grunt and Jungkook to casually reach out and tap the answer again. Your eyes trailing over the written answer before standing up and clearing your throat. The answer rolling off your tongue as easy as breathing; as if you didn't just steal it from a notebook.

You made a silent prayer the teacher didn't notice the sweat threatening to break at your temple. The nervous ticking of your feet tilting from spot to spot. A rush of relief escaping your lips when his response to your answer was to continue class.

You took your seat next to Jungkook; unable to acknowledge him just yet for saving you from whatever punishment your teacher would've no doubt thought of. The realization that Jungkook himself was the reason for your lack of concentration making your cheeks flush an embarrassing pink making your arms wrap protectively around your backpack.

You’d never even brought out your textbook. Never dropped your bag from your desk and no doubt Mr. Choi knew you were given the answer. You buried your mouth against the coarse nylon in a weak attempt to stifle your embarrassment.

“Thank you.”

Your eyes caught the soft tilt of his brow as it rose at the muffled words. You could make out his left shoulder leaning him down towards your huddled position, making your hands involuntarily tighten into your backpack.

“What was that?”

The husky whisper of his words weren't anything you’d heard before, and they resonated up your spine to leave you staring starry-eyed.

“Th-thank you. For giving me the answer.”

He didn't respond. His gaze fixed solely on your face until you forcibly struggled to keep from fidgeting under its weight. After what felt like a small eternity, Jungkook nodded his head and faced forward. The sudden ghost of the death of your conversation causing you to blink at his profile.

The rest of the class was spent with your focus lacking on taking notes. How could you focus with his presence commanding your attention? A small army of ants creeping along your nerves demanding to acknowledge him. It was so strong, when the bell rang you jumped up from your seat to try and escape into the freedom of the school’s hallway, only to end up with your knee connecting straight into the hardwood of the desk. Jungkook’s snort at your misfortune was enough to remind you how much of an arrogant pain in the ass he could be.

“Wow - good job doofus.”

Your head snapped back in his direction; tongue rolling in your cheek as he hopped up from his seat. A hand snaking out to grab his bag and sling it over his shoulder as the other reached for his cane. You held your head high despite how awful your knee was stinging, and stood up adjusting your bag.

“Seriously? That's all you've got? Doofus? Next time let’s try harder.”

Jungkook didn't seemed miffed by your retort, actually seeming more amused than anything, and for some reason it only bugged you more. Did you really want to get into another argument like you were in primary school with him? You discarded the thought as you tightened the strings on your backpack and decided to take the mature route and leave him behind.

The hallways mass of bodies rushing to get to their next period giving you comfort; until you remembered you shared the same economics class. Today was also a field trip to a farm to learn the process of making soy products. It would take up the last few classes of the day. You’d been excited to spend the day out of class and enjoy the rustic scenery out of town. Your only hope was that he hadn't been able to get his parental slip signed; he’d just started the day before. How could he?

When the teacher walked in and asked Jungkook for his permission slip you wanted to howl. Why was the universe so cruel? But why did you care so much?

It was a question you didn't bother to think about; you just grumbled the whole way to the bus. Your teacher standing at its entrance to put a check by your names every time one of your classmates passed him by like lined up cattle. You were the last checkmark: the last person to find an available seat. You rounded the final step and your stomach sank down into your shoes. The universe seeming to play a sick joke of musical chairs; your only options being Jungkook or Amber, the girl who actively struggled to make sure your life was a living hell.

You’d rather be eaten by dogs than even attempt to sit with her. Jungkook it was, then.

Your hand clasped tighter around the strap of your bag as you moved it farther up your shoulder. A large sigh accommodating your steps as you side-stepped down the aisle ending with you in front of his seat. His cane taking up what was left of it.

Jungkook didn't seem to register your presence or he just decided to pretend you weren't there. Either way you felt your annoyance grow as you cleared your throat to grab his attention. His chin barely leaving the perch of his fist as his head turned; gaze intimidating in a way that left your fingers pinching the fabric of yours clothes just to make sure they were still there and he hadn't stared straight through them.

“Can I help you?”

“I need a seat.”

He looked back and no doubt noticed the open spot next to Amber. Jungkook’s giving the slightest nod as he retorted, “There’s one right back there.”

“Come on, Jungkook. What do you want?”

“You're bribing me now?”

His smile was so bright, borderline adorable, and you hated how it threatened to make you retaliate with your own.

“Stop being a brat and just tell me,” you snapped instead.

Jungkook shot a quick glance back at Amber’s giggling figure. You were sure most people thought she sounded like wind chimes or something else cute and feminine, but to you it just sounded like a cat dying. When he looked back at you, Jungkook checked you out one last time. His eyes stopping at the lone earbud that sat against your chest. For a moment, you thought he was actually staring at your breasts making your cheeks burn and your gaze to look anywhere else but at his smug face.

“Let me listen to your iPod there and back on this trip, and I'll let you sit with me.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

Jungkook did a lavish hand sweep at the window. The motion reminding you of the showgirls on The Price is Right, making you believe maybe he’d somehow watched it, and one too many times.

“You get to use your imagination while you look out the window.”

“No way. Joint custody.”

“Fine. Joint custody, but I get to pick the music the whole way. If you have shitty taste the deal's off.”

He stuck out his hand for you to shake and there was a moment, a minor second, that it felt like you were making a deal with the devil. However, the sound of Amber’s laughter practically had your hand bolting into Jungkook’s. You shook it harder than was necessary before dropping it and shooing him to move.

Jungkook removed his bag and cane from the seat. Your legs giving out moments later so you could plop down in it, only to be greeted by his outstretched hand. The smile that spread across his lips shining brighter than the mischief in his eyes.

“As per our agreement: the iPod.”

He wiggles his fingers and you wanted to smack him. Your own squeezing tighter against the metal until, reluctantly, you chose your fate by placing it into his hand. Jungkook didn’t seem to mind your current look of displeasure while you watched him begin to scroll through your assorted music collection.

At least the seat was warm.

The first few seconds were somehow more awkward than you thought possible. Eyes locked in a fifty-yard stare so intense a soldier would’ve been envious. The only movement you caught of him was from your peripherals. Jungkook’s thumbs picking up speed from the leisurely way he scanned through the artists you’d offered. And no you did not, whatsoever, happen to notice the way his bottom lip would dart inside his mouth just to be held gently between his teeth. All the while his eyes focused on the task in front of him.

Nope. You weren’t paying attention to him. Not even a little bit. So how he was able to make you jump twelve inches out of your skin, while you were most definitely not embarrassing yourself by gawking over a beautiful man, was beyond you.

“Ya!” Jungkook clicked his tongue in distaste. His hand wiggling the ipod in your direction, as if it had caused some great offense. “What is this?”

Your neck tiled as you regarded him like he’d grown two heads. You were also positive if your eyebrows knitted together any harder you’d end up with a unibrow.

“Ugh, a mystical device that plays music.”

The look on Jungkook’s face faltered from frustration to annoyance. It was so sudden it ended up sending a bark of laughter in his direction. And just like that, the annoyed look was back again.

“I mean, what the hell do you have on this thing. Who is The Dead Weather? City and Colour? Joji?”

“They are artists I enjoy.”

“They’re shit.”

You rushed to try and snatch it back from him. Jungkook’s reflexes proving to be faster than your growing urge to smack him.

“Excuse me, little miss,” he began. “What do you think you’re doing?”

He used his index finger to push gently against your forehead, but with the current level of irritation, he still proved faster than you. Your failed attempt to swat his hand away meeting only empty air. Earning you a smirk of smug satisfaction.

“I’m trying to get my things back.”

“That wasn’t part of our agreement.”

You tried one last time to take him by surprise. Your right hand shot out too hard to grab at the object clasped in his large hands. The momentum carried you forward to land shoulder first against his chest. Leg nudging against his with enough force that it caused his cane to move an inch. It took everything you had to keep your head down to hide your flaming cheeks.

“And now you’re assaulting me.”

If your eyes were capable of rolling back any father you might've seen brain cells.

“I was only trying to get my property back. Since the only thing that’s coming out of you is complaining.”

“I’m not complaining,” he snapped. “You’re acting like an Indian giver.”

“Is that all you know how to do: complain?” You continued, completely ignoring him. A slight smirk now etching your lips. Jungkook’s eyes flicking down to notice your amusement at his expense. “I believe they call it, ‘trying something new.’”

His eyes narrowed on you and for a split second your pulse began to race. Sure, the agitation on his face at your teasing was obvious, but you could’ve sworn...maybe...just maybe he was smirking. Could you have possibly been able to make him smile?

“I should make you go sit with Amber.”

The smugness in his voice and the cocky smile that joined it instantly made whatever fun you were having come to a complete halt. Jungkook was so pleased with himself he had the audacity to shimmy his shoulders like he’d already won. The rolls had reversed. It was your eyes turn to throw daggers in his direction.

“Now who's the Indian giver.”

Even though he played up on what he felt like was a win, you could tell he was not as amused. His non-injured leg bounced to an incredible rhythm that he could only hear. Probably a furious count to a hundred to keep himself from saying anything else to continue your usual thrilling conversations. So when he handed over one earbud, and the iPod, but placed the other into his ear, it was fair to say it left you baffled.

You were waiting so long for him to give an explanation, but all he did was continue to stare at you. It was starting to make your pulse race again. Why did he constantly have to feel so intense? Everything about him. Not even his current state made him seem any less notable. It just didn’t seem fair.

It wasn’t until he cleared his throat did you realize you’d been staring. For god knows how damn long.

“You gonna play something or not?” he asked.

His hand motioned towards the music while his fingers adjusted the earbud he’d kept.

“I’m so confused.”

“You look it,” he retorted, causing your earlier thoughts to remember, although handsome, he was an incredible pain in the ass.

“Ten seconds ago you complained about my music. Now you want me to play it for you.”

Jungkook turned his gaze away, his body relaxing back against the hard foam of the seat. His eyes still cast outside the window as if he was trying to find some way to escape.

“Either I can spend the next couple hours listening to you talk, or “try” out some new music. If I have a choice, I’ll pick the music please and thank you.”

Oh, how you wish you could’ve shoved him out that tiny window. But as much as you hated to admit it, Jungkook was right. Music was the only reasonable escape from possibly having either of you commit murder.

It was your turn to try and get comfortable. This time your thumb scanning down the list of artists until your eyes caught sight of one he’d mentioned. Without giving him warning you pressed play. The haunting melody of Joji’s “Dancing in the Dark,” flooded the earbuds. His voice melancholic as he began to sing a sad tale of not wanting to be the hidden second option.

The song choice was enough to finally get Jungkook to look back at you. Somehow already having enough with the song choice before it’d barely even reached the chorus.

“Just listen.”

It was the only advice you could give him, and hopefully the reassurance you’d tried to ease into your tone was enough. Whether it was or not, by the time the chorus began he seemingly relaxed again into the seat. His arms moving to cross lazily against his chest. He seemed to actually be taking in the song while he watched out the window. The passing of the steel and concrete that was Seoul into the rural areas of green and forest.

The music itself was calming. It was enough to let yourself fully relax back against it and close your eyes. With your eyes closed you could easily fade out the sounds of the sporadic conversations on the bus. Even though you only had one ear bud, all you needed was to concentrate on the music to drown out the world.

It took a few seconds for you to be pulled into a Joji’s song about terrible longing and being left behind by a lover. I mean, you didn’t really know too much about the latter, but hey, a girl could daydream. His voice was seconds away from heading into the second verse of the chorus, when you heard the sound of the melody being lightly sung beside you.

The voice was beautiful. The most startling part, not the fact of its softness, or the way it swelled in perfect harmony with the song, was that it came from Jungkook. Your eyes flung open with your head snapping to gaze at his serene expression. He continued to face the window, daylight playing along the profile of his face, and his gentle voice singing perfectly in tune.

It wasn’t loud enough that anyone else could’ve heard it over the dozens of bursting conversations being spoken throughout the bus. That the only conclusion you could come up with to why he would be singing at all. He thought no one would be able to pay attention. You probably would’ve stayed gawking at him if his eyes fluttering open didn’t send you crashing back against the seat and clutching your eyes shut. You needed to pretend you hadn’t noticed. Or else he would stop. He would hide this part of himself that showed he was more than what he tried to portray.

You didn’t have to open your eyes to know he was glancing in your direction. To see his eyes gaze over you with suspicion before settling back and listening to the next track. Khalid’s intro of “Talk,” beginning to play into your earbud.

You spent the rest of the trip staying beside him, close as you could get without looking creepy, just to hear him gently sing. He breathed a gentle version of each one he knew, or came to like, and made it his own. Even being a few times were his nerves got the better of him. His voice rising ever slightly when he drew too deep into the song. He would quiet after each outburst, but to your pleasure Jungkook would start back up moments later.

After all the bickering, you could definitely say the trade was worth it. You were so taken with listening to him that when the bus came to a stop, you didn’t realize it until your earbud was yanked from your ears. Your eyes heavy from sleep fluttered open and closed a few times before they focused on Jungkook’s face.

“Ya, didn’t you hear them call us off the bus?”

Your response came in the form of slow blinks and a mouth half-hung open. You wished more for a nap than going out to explore a farm, but your limbs were screaming to be stretched. You went to answer him when, instead, Jungkook grabbed his bag, cane, and started to try and scoot over you.

“Hey! What do you think you’re doing?”

“Trying to get by! So excuse me!”

His backside rubbed against your arms and, to your horror, your chest. Without thinking, your hand lashed out to smack across his bottom causing both of you to go as still as the dead. Your heart was thundering as you looked at your hand like it’d just finished committing murder. Maybe it had. But the only person it’d murdered was you with your eyes roaming up to see a shocked Jungkook gawking down at you over his shoulder.

“Did you really just smack my ass.”

“It was an accident!”

“An accident?” He questioned.

“Self-defense!”

Jungkook tried to hide the amusement your no doubt panicking was causing him. His mouth struggling to keep the frown that was tilting ever so slightly at the top of his lips.

“If anything needed to be defended, it was my honor. Over here just smacking people’s ass’s without a warning.”

You knew by now your face looked like a fire hydrant.

“Self-defense from you dragging your ass all over me! I’m not a seat, ya know.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

This time Jungkook didn’t try to hide his smile. To your surprise, it wasn’t a malicious one that showed he enjoyed your embarrassment. No. This one decorated his face in something softer that made your heart thunder to a different rhythm entirely.

“Oh, look you guys. Shit Stain and The Cripple are flirting.”

Amber’s grating voice was one you’d grown painstakingly accustomed too. The sinister way she spoke impossibly loud just so everyone was forced to hear her. Whether they wanted to or not. You were used to her coldness and the constant way she harassed you. What you weren’t so used to, was having Jungkook as part of the punchline.

Immediately, you felt his legs tense where they touched you. The muscles ramrod straight and flexing under the skin. The lighthearted tone you’d heard seconds before in your banter was now replaced with an aloofness that made you stiffen in your seat. Jungkook’s jaw held tight as he regarded Amber as if she were no more than a pest buzzing at his ear.

“Ya, fix your nose before you bother talking to me. I can see half the planet up there.”

Amber’s eyes flashed hellfire as she glowered over her shoulders to stop the giggling that ensued. When all grew quiet enough to where she felt like she would be heard, a harsh smile spread her lips. Her legs began to take a step to move away from the two peasants who’d held enough of her attention.

“Whatever, Cripple. Try not to get your stick in any holes.”

She was passing the front of your shared seat when, suddenly, Amber’s legs gave way. A tumbling mess of shrieks, bleached hair, and her arms flapping rapidly a solid indication of her mysterious attempt at taking flight. The only thing that moved to catch her was her face. The minute the laughter began to bubble up inside you, you quickly placed a hand over your mouth. Least the she-devil hear it escape.

You took a second to inspect what could’ve possibly taken down the ice queen. Even when she wore ridiculously high heels, Amber walked with a grace you knew you’d never pull off. Not without looking like a newborn giraffe, that is. Glancing down you noticed Jungkook’s cane strategically placed right where her foot would’ve landed. The culprit in making Amber a freshly minted carpet on the bus’s floor. Somewhere on the bus you knew she was up from her tumble and huffing a few choice words. You were sure she knew, just like you did, that Jungkook was the one who’d done it. You paid no attention to her tantrum and kept a transfixed gaze on him.

He’d finished scooting the rest of the way to get to the middle of the bus and was situating his cane and shoulder bag. His hand suddenly reaching down into view and patiently waiting for you to take it.

“Come on, Y/N. Let’s go.”

You knew you looked like a fool. Your eyes mirroring the thousands of silent questions that threatened to make you ill. A part of you hoping he understood your dumbfounded look simply begged him to find some way to answer you. You’d stared starry-eyed up at him for so long you half expected the patience of Jungkook’s open hand to fall flat. Instead, he continued to surprise you. His gaze gentle, and hand openly waiting for you to take it when you were ready.

With eyes wide and mouth agape, your body rejected your stunned silence and placed a small hand in his. His own quickly enveloped yours perfectly and gave you the added support you needed to find stable footing beside him. Jungkook finally looked away from you to stare at the remaining goons.

The moment you stood beside him you became painfully aware of the noticeable height difference. Your gaze moving up inch-by-inch until your eyes were locked onto his face. The stubbornness of a hard set jaw and eyes that dared anyone to speak enough to make your heartbeat pick up in your chest. When he appeared to be finished making sure his presence was known, Jungkook’s eyes turned back to you. A silent request of reassurance to know you were alright making you answer with a quick nod.

Your cheeks blushed furiously as you struggled to look away from his gaze. No longer were you so worried about Amber; your mind trapped on a repeat of questions. Did Jungkook always smell like Calvin Klein cologne? Could it be considered weird how you felt undeniable comfort pressed up against him? Or really weird if in your head you suddenly imagined recreating this scene a million times later with you being braver beside him, instead of being the damsel in distress.

He didn’t seem at all perplexed with your case of sudden shyness. His strong legs pulling you both forward and past the horde of Amber and her lackeys without missing a step. His head held high while the other hand helped him keep his balance without using his cane. For the small world that was high school, Jungkook showed them he was still that once popular boy who was known for not taking shit from no one. A demi-god amongst mere mortals that were somehow honored by his presence.

And here you were. So close to the orbit of his sun and walking away unscathed.

Your train of rushing thoughts kept you from paying attention. It was something you soon were going to regret when he led you off the steps of the bus and onto the dirt road. Jungkook’s exit was obviously graceful while yours in comparison was a train wreck. Instead of your feet stepping off the last step and landing like a normal person, you lost your footing. Your clumsy feet sending you struggling to find a balance with the earth before you crash landed on the floor. Luckily, Jungkook’s back was there to catch you.

The momentum of your fall sent his feet skittering to correct you both before you fell into the dirt. A few choice cuss words leaving his lips and crimson flaring up on your cheeks to make the dance of falling even more entertaining. You could practically hear the cackling of the witches echoing out of the bus like a cave.

Jungkook made quick work of righting you both; his good leg furiously hoping to support the weak one. His cane dug into the earth a good inch to add some more stabilization. You let go of his hand and moved away from his side where you’d previously been planted. You weren’t worthy of being there. This boy who saw your distress and helped you. Only for you to ruin it in the process.

“Well that’s one way to ruin an exit,” he huffed.

He glanced in your direction and you could’ve sworn he was smiling. Or was that a smirk? Whatever it was, it was quickly washed away as his eyes took you in. “You okay?”

“I’m sorry!”

Your words rushed from your lips with your back snapping to bow a perfect ninety-degrees. Your hair a curtain to try and hide your embarrassment.

“Ugh...for what?”

“For bumping into you like that. I should’ve been paying attention.”

A soft laugh bounced from between his lips and you were willing to beat his face lit up like pure sunshine. You moved to stand upright just in time to see you were right. Jungkook was either oblivious to the way you were looking at him, or was simply unfazed. His shoulder hiking the backpack where it’d begun to fall as he adjusted himself to get ready to move to join the rest of the class up ahead.

“You did ruin one hell of a stylish exit.”

“I don’t know how stylish you can be stepping off of a school bus, but...thank you.”

The both of you locked eyes with one another. A large part of you hoped Jungkook was able to see the sincerity or at least hear it. Maybe he wasn’t that much of a pain in the ass after all. That soft smirk you’d grown accustomed to etched back on his lips as he took the first step towards your waiting classmates.

“No problem. Plus, I figured I owed you for letting me listen to your music.”

You felt your brow shoot up in mock surprise. Your legs falling into step beside him.

“I thought you said I had terrible taste.”

“I never said terrible,” Jungkook corrected. His eyes danced with a playfulness that lifted a smile to your lips

“You could’ve fooled me.”

“Well, it wasn’t the greatest, but thank you. I actually ended up liking most of it, at least.”

“Oh, what a sweet way of insulting my musical taste.”

“Hey! I said I liked most of it. It’s like a win-win. Kinda.”

You wanted to be snappy. Give him some more hell for always playing up on being a condescending moody jerk. In reality, walking next to Jungkook while the silence swelled around you without the awkward pressure; you knew that wasn’t all of him. He’d proven how sweet he could be at the memory of how easily you’d felt protected by a simple stretch of a hand. The look in his eyes while he waited for you to take his extended hand a plea to know you could trust him. Strangely, a part of you already felt like you could.

You snuck a look over in Jungkook’s direction, and felt a smile begin to sweep up the corners of your lips. It was a different, but nice, change to have someone come to your defense. Yeah, most of the time you wanted to throttle him for seeming like he could care less. In that moment, however, he cared enough to help. That had to mean something.

“You’re welcome.”

You hoped your words conveyed the gratitude you felt in that moment. Prayed that Jungkook could hear it. When he looked at you, you made sure to give him a quick smile before you looked away. Your eyes struggled not to look back at him; to tell him all the things that were racing through your head. It took every ounce of your will to stay focused on the group of classmates that were growing closer. Somewhere along the way, you’d hoped Jungkook would’ve replied with his usual smart ass remarks. It worried you how sad a small part of you felt at his silence.

Now, you worried maybe you were going a little nuts.

Instead, you came to the edge of the group in silence. Your ears struggling to grasp on to the middle of what your teacher gave out for instructions for the day.

So what if that insane part of you didn’t receive a smart ass remark in return for your gratitude. You were more than happy with the fact Jungkook stayed by your side. The close proximity just enough to convey what you were both feeling without unnecessary words.

______________

For the past hour the farmer -Kim Sejung - had shown the class around his vast property. The beginning of this magical tour starting with where he manufactured the tofu once it was fermented then sent down to be processed for packaging. He was a man who took immense pride in his work. The next room where the fermentation took place and, his overeager explanation, spelled out how devoted he was to his craft.

The whole entire backwards presentation was something your teacher decided became a chance for everyone to write down everything you’d been shown. A punishment you knew was coming when Kim Sejung lost half the class to their own conversations long before you’d hit the second part of his speech.

Now, anyone could be wondering why all of you were taking the longest stroll of your life out in the middle of the farm. A fair question you’d been asking yourself since you realized your shoes were completely covered in mud. You’d been trying to understand why this hadn’t been the first place Kim Sejung would’ve taken all of you. Your only guess being he just enjoyed showing the process backwards. Or maybe he was secretly a mastermind at torture. It was the only logical conclusion you could come up with at having the entire class now out in the muddy acres of his farm.

And sure, maybe your attention was being sent over your shoulder every five seconds. A certain boy with exhaustion creased in his brow making it harder for you to ignore. You were looking back so often you felt like you’d end up with whiplash at any minute. Really, it was all Jungkook’ fault for causing you to worry; becoming painfully aware with each glance at Jungkook’s struggling frame.

How Sejung -, or anyone else for that matter, hadn’t noticed he was falling further behind the group with every step left you completely perplexed. You’d gave up listening to whatever the farmer or teacher talked about or what questions they were throwing around. You could bet it had to do about soil.

If everyone else could ignore him why couldn’t you? It’s not that you hadn’t tried, cause of course you’d done exactly that. Your bottom lip now held a semi-permanent indent from your teeth. Whenever you felt that tick in your neck to look back to check on him: you bit down. When you felt like drawing attention to him by saying something: you bit down. A part of you willing to bet Jungkook would never forgive you if you did.

Your solution? It was ingenious, really.

You fell back behind every classmate. Patiently, you waited for everyone to pass you up. Your feet dragging in the muddy dirt until you were sure no one would notice when you inevitably stopped.

With a soft count of three under your breath, you came to a halt at the back of the group. Your small count continued for another round before you were comfortable with the distance it’d placed between the group, Jungkook, and yourself.

You let out a huff of satisfaction as you turned around to give Jungkook your complete attention. Your neck thanking you for the small favor. What you found, however, greeting you was far from what you’d hoped to find.

Jungkook’s current location became a solid five feet behind the group. His feet finally coming to the large puddle of mud that you and the class had easily maneuvered Jungkook had not. His struggle coming to a standstill at the muddy puddles edge. Jungkook’s face etched itself in harsh determination to no doubt allow him from moving forward. You told yourself you would stay back and wait for him.

Just wait, You kept telling yourself over and over. A broken record having nothing on what you felt capable of standing there. Your pulse bonding in your veins and feet bouncing with anxiety as he assessed his options. All you were supposed to do was hang back to walk with him. That was it. You weren’t his nanny. You knew how he felt about being pitied, and yet, when he took his first tentative step out into the mud and his cane sunk deep and his bad leg followed suit, your feet deceived you.

It appeared Mother Nature had her own way of pushing you past your reserved good intentions. Your feet sprinted forward fast enough that you were embarrassed at their quickness. The expected movement bringing Jungkook’s frustrated gaze up from his current dilemma to you.

“What are you doing here, Y/N?”

The annoyance held in his question didn’t go unnoticed by you. If it was you in his position, you’d be annoyed seeing you standing there too and not offering to help.

“I came to help you.”

The words just streamed out with your running thoughts. Your feet willing to move forward back into the mud to help him. Jungkook noticeably began to struggle to remove his foot that submerged quickly underneath.

“I didn’t ask for your help.”

“You didn’t have too, Jungkook. I want to help.”

“Let me rephrase myself.” His irritation was pure fire in his eyes as his words hurled in your direction. “I didn’t ask for it and I don’t want it.”

You wish you could say you handled his dismissal with grace. That you understood he was only being a jerk because he was embarrassed and angry at his current predicament. You really wanted to be that bigger person. Well...that most definitely wasn’t what happened.

Your eyes narrowed in on him. Your previous desire to help evaporated as you watched his leg sink deeper. His other foot soon joined the first in a poorly calculated attempt to release the other. Your arms crossed over your chest as you took in the scene before you.

“Well, Jungkook, I’m not sure if you noticed but you’re slowly heading towards being buried under that mud.”

“Thank you for that astute observation. Anything else you’d like to add?”

“Why are you being such an asshole?!” you snapped.

Your arms came loose down at your side and turned to clenched fists. You weren’t exactly sure what you expected his reaction to be. You knew Jungkook held a hatred for being pitied. Hell, you would too if it was the other way around. You knew he wasn’t helpless, but you also knew he couldn’t do everything alone. No one could. So what was so wrong with offering to help him?

You weren’t sure how you looked. Maybe crazy? Or did the desperation of not knowing how to handle the situation have you appear sad? Whatever it was Jungkook saw, it was enough to look away. His eyes dropping down to his covered feet.

The space between the two of you swelled with tension. His hair perfectly covering his face, and kept you from being able to steal any glance. It was enough to make you unsure if you should prepare yourself for a verbal battle with him or if you should simply walk away. What if you’d made a mistake thinking Jungkook would want to be bothered at all with help. Especially from you.

“God, this is embarrassing.”

His words were so light you weren’t sure at first if he’d spoken. A part of you wondering if you’d made up the sound of his voice as Jungkook’s face continued to be hidden by layers of hair. But, lord help you, you knew you weren’t imagining things. The sound of his voice is something you’d come to recognize with ease. You knew without a doubt it most definitely was him. And the sadness that reverberated from his words made your anger dissipate instantly.

“What?”

Could you have picked a stupider response? When Jungkook lifted his head up to look at you, you knew he silently agreed.

“It’s embarrassing!” His hands motioned to take in his current predicament. The hurt shown on his proud features made your heart ache to comfort him. “How pitiful can I get? It’s so damn frustrating! The cripple unable to get himself out of some stupid mud.”

“Jungkook, you are literally the least pitiful person I’ve ever met.”

“And yet, it doesn’t make me any less stuck.”

You took a step forward and began to try and edge around what you could of the puddle. You knew there was no way you weren’t getting more mud on your shoes, but the purpose was worth it.

“Why didn’t you just go around it?” Your question earned you a dead stare. One that reminded you of your mother when she felt like you’d asked the silliest question. You held your hands up in surrender and said, “Hey. It’s a fair question.”

“If I just go around it, it proves that I can’t do the simplest thing, Y/N. It proves…”

“That you aren’t like everybody else,” you finished for him.

You could’ve kicked yourself. How could you not have noticed it sooner. Jungkook just wanted to prove to himself that he could still do things like he did before his accident. Because even though he showed people bringing up his disability didn’t bother him, it did. He still hadn’t come to terms with what happened, and believed the current state of his leg deemed him less worthy.

He looked away from whatever he saw in your eyes. His own fighting not to show the sadness that threatened to spill down his cheeks.

“You aren’t like everyone else, Jungkook.” Your words tore his head back in your direction. His shoulders quickly squared up to take whatever verbal blow you were about to hurl in his direction. You were happy to convince him otherwise.

“You don’t need to prove anything to a single person. Yeah, you aren’t a hundred percent who you used to be, but it doesn’t make you any less you. You aren’t defined by a damn leg and if another human being does treat you differently because of it: fuck’em. Now, get your shit together and hand me the end of your cane.”

The both of you stared at one another for what felt like an eternity. Jungkook’s face unreadable as his eyes took you in making you squirm just the slightest bit. Whether he was looking for a hint that you were deceiving him; that something hurtful laid underneath, he wouldn’t find it. You made sure with your hand this time open and waiting for him, that he could see just how much you meant what you said.

After what felt like a baby size eternity, Jungkook answered you in a way you’d grown to expect. In one swift motion, he picked his cane out from the mud and placed it, dirty end first into your waiting hand. Your face scrunched up in disgust, as the leftover mud squished between your fingers. The action enough to break the coldness of Jungkook’s blank expression into the smirk that was all too familiar.

“Oh my god! You would do that.”

The amusement on his face was enough to tell you he’d most definitely done it on purpose. Of course, you’d already known that. You didn’t need his raised eyebrow or that devilish smirk to inform you of that.

“Oh, so you think you know me now.”

“I know enough to know, without a doubt, this is something you’d do. Brat.”

You saved the last word for good measure and it was met with a bark of surprise laughter. His reaction was not something you’d expected, but a welcomed one as his face instantly lit up brighter than you’d ever seen. Jungkook’s laughter and smile was genuine and good god, was it breathtakingly adorable.

Who knew calling him a brat led to so many heart stopping possibilities? Like no longer having a permanent scowl.

“Alright smart ass, how about we settle this for when I’m not stuck in the mud.”

“You got yourself a deal. Only if you stop pouting.”

“I was not pouting!”

It was your turn to laugh wholeheartedly while your other hand moved to secure itself to his cane. There was no way you’d be letting it slip free from you. Mud or no mud.

“Tomato potato: pouting is pouting.”

Jungkook’s head tilted to the side. His brain noticeably trying to comprehend what it was you just said.

“That makes absolutely no sense.”

“It makes perfect sense, Jungkook now grab a hold of yo-“

Honestly, you should’ve seen this coming. He’d already given you a muddy end of a cane. It was the perfect foreshadowing moment that was leading up to this, and yet, somehow you were surprised when he pulled with full force. You figured he was strong - not freakishly. Not enough to send you flying face first toward the large mud puddle with the sound of a squeaking bird of surprise that you could only assume was yourself.

The only thing that kept you from going face first was a split second decision to ruin just the lower half of your outfit.

The impact with the mud was squishy and came with the weirdest sound effects that reminded you of pushing your hand into a container of slim. God, was it squishy. An immediate, “Ewww,” dragging out from your lips as your hands lifted up from where they’d been buried. Your eyes taking in the full extent of your lower half now resembles the Swamp Thing.

Jungkook’s laughter brought you back to reality and flinging what was left of the mud on your hands in his direction. It only earned you another bark of laughter.

“What in the hell was that for?!”

“Now whose pouting?” He teased.

You wanted to hit him but you knew you couldn’t reach. So you settled for flinging another round of mud.

“Are you kidding me? You pulled me in here cause I said you were pouting!”

“Yup.”

“Unbelievable. You’re a child.”

“I thought you said brat?”

“That too! Ugh! Jungkook! You’re such a pain in the ass. I’m not helping you anymore.”

You moved to try and pull up one leg and found it way more difficult than you’d imagined. Seriously, was this shit superglue? No matter how many times you struggled to pull up either leg it wouldn’t budge; producing an agitated groan to seep from your body.

You wanted to murder him.

When you glanced up at him at least Jungkook had the decency to appear worried.

“Do you need help? I didn’t think it’d be so hard for you to pull yourself up.”

“Oh, so you’re worried about me not being able to pull myself up, but not about me covered in mud.”

The shrug Jungkook gave as an answer made you want to throttle him. You wanted to tell him to shove his help up his ass. Realistically, however, you knew there was no way you were getting unstuck without getting dirtier from crawling around. For a second time, his hand appeared, like magic, in front of you.

Your eyes trailed up his hand to that devilish grin of his and found your earlier agitation disintegrate. What you hated the most, was how his eyes lit up to match his smile. This warm version of Jungkook wasn’t someone you were used to. You’d seen the cocky jock who knew he was good at everything. Experienced the real asshole Jungkook that made you want to rip out chunks of hair. But this side of him...was worth a heartache or two.

Without another thought you reached out and took his hand and allowed him to start lifting you up. It wasn’t until you were half way you came up with your own plan. A devilish grin of your own spreading your lips wide as the idea grew into something worth doing .

Jungkook had a moment to be confused before your free hand shot out and took fierce hold of his forearm. You made sure it was locked in place before your body went completely limp, and sent his body into an unbalanced mess.

“The fu-!”

Jungkook’s descent, at first, made you feel like you’d accomplished a victory. One you didn’t get to relish in for long. Jungkook may not have been able to finish his earlier sentence, but you easily made up for it. A softened, “Fuck!” came pressed from your chest as he landed sideways on top of you. The angle reminded you of an awkward pair of scissors: if one part of the scissors was ridiculously muscled for a student.

You’d had little time to move your hands up to brace yourself against his weight. The air from your lungs whooshing out in laughter with your body struggling to recover from underneath him. And no, no you weren’t painfully aware that your hands could feel every well lined muscle under the fabric of his t-shirt. And no, you were not blushing. Not even a little.

You were sure when Jungkook lifted his head up to look in your direction, he’d see the sinful glee you took in your awkward positioning. Instead, your lungs erupted into laughter. One side of his face perfectly smeared with mud making one eye remain closed and his right doing most of the work. He looked ridiculous...and cute.

“You think this is funny?”

“I think-I think it’s the best thing I’m going to see all day.”

It took a few tries to speak through your laughter, but when you finally got the words out you couldn’t have been more proud. Jungkook on the other hand, seemed to struggle to keep the annoyance on his face. The first sign of a smile cracking into the mud that began to dry on his face.

Jungkook moved to prop himself up - the action giving you the room you needed to wiggle out from underneath him. You were about to call it a success, a retort to an unspoken comment he’d yet to make. All of it came crashing down, however, when Jungkook’s mud covered hand rose from the depths and placed a long streak down your nose with his thumb giving an artistic sweep across your cheek.

The marks he gave reminded you of those old western movies you’d seen. Warpaint covered faces of men getting ready to square off to defend their home from invaders. The thought seemed to match perfectly with the beat of your heart thundering like a drum inside your chest.

It wasn’t just because Jungkook touched you - on purpose - in a playful way. It had nothing to do with the fact his muddy hand was currently resting against your cheek. Or from the denial that it brought out a spark of mischievous happiness to ignite inside you as your mouth fell open to expose the sound of laughter. No, your heart pounded against your chest purely for the look that passed behind chocolate eyes and the soft smile that followed close behind.

So, sure. In that instance it could’ve just been a plan old look. You weren’t a hundred percent sure it wasn’t more than just a look though, either. There was that one boy in first grade, however, who did give you an aggressive teeth-clacking peck on the lips during recess, but this was completely different.

And because you were so uncertain of what it all meant, your only reaction was to lift your hand up from beside you and slam it palm first against his face.

Jungkook’s face lit up in shock and you couldn’t stop the eruption of laughter that spilled from your lips. It was an immediate rush of joy at seeing his handsome face marked by your small muddy handprint that streaked itself across the plains of his face. Normally, you’d be mortified: waiting patiently to be scolded and made to feel small. Instead, the shock wore off his face in an instant. Jungkook’s eyes lighting up with childlike excitement as a giddy, “Oh yeah?” rushed between his lips.

You didn’t have a chance to wonder what he meant before he reached into the mud and brought up a snowball version of the earth.

“Oh, no you don’t!”

Your eyes went wide and frantic giggles exploded free as your body struggled in vain to get out from under him. The previous joy of being pinned by his weight dissipating when that large mud ball found its new home smeared on top of your head.

“Jungkook-ah!”

His own laughter rose up around you as your body began to move in earnest to get out from under him. When you finally realized it was pointless, another bright idea overtook you. If Jungkook noticed the renewed mischievous glint in your eye, he didn’t show it.

He continued to smile obliviously down at you until the two fist fulls of mud you’d taken in both hands came crashing down on top of his head. It didn’t matter that your face caught some of the aftermath: the face he made was priceless.

You didn’t get a chance to enjoy your tiny victory before the two of you were a mess of arms and limbs rolling feverishly around; the two of you playfully wrestling for dominance. The mixture of your laughter rising up until you weren’t sure where Jungkook’s ended and yours began. By the end of it, you were both resembling the pigs you’d seen earlier on the farm. Bodies fully covered in wet earth and lounging beside each other in exhaustion. Every few moments random fits of giggles overtaking the two of you until you realized you both needed to get back.

This time, instead of the two of you refusing help from the other, you eagerly took it. The both of you worked together to reach the edge of the mud pit and, without further incident, pulled each other out.

The walk back to the main barn was done in silence. In other circumstances, you would’ve been consumed with a need to fill it. The impending weight of anxiety would’ve flared across your skin until you would’ve blurted out anything. Small talk was never one of your strong suits, but a comfortable banter had somehow formed between the two of you. You knew if you started talking, Jungkook would respond. It was still a fifty-fifty on whether or not it would be a smart ass response or a real one, but a response nonetheless.

You didn’t try to start a conversation. You chose to enjoy the reassurance that he was beside you. Your mind running through what exactly just happened and how you both ended up looking like bad impression art. You’d spent so much time stealing glances in his direction that you could’ve sworn you caught him doing the same. But who were you kidding. No one had stolen glances at you since middle school, and that was only to steal the answers off tests.

There was no way Jeon Jungkook would be the one to break that trend. No matter how flattering the thought. So when you felt that knowable itch of being watched you found yourself surprised that Jungkook was indeed staring at you.

“Are you cold?”

Jungkook’s question jolted you from your train of thought and sent you reeling into another. He was closer to you now. Close like you’d been while sitting on the bus with your shoulders brushing with every movement. Every bump helplessly sending you lightly banging into the other.

On the bus you could easily play it off as something out of your control. But now? Now there was no good explanation that you could find to why Jungkook decided to walk so closely beside you. There was no way to explain away the way his gaze drew across your face like he’d save it to memory.

“Well I am covered in freezing mud water.”

You’d tried for sarcasm but your voice barely carried over a whisper. It made Jungkook’s head subconsciously dip lower just to hear you. The devilish smirk he was infamous for spread like wildfire across his lips.

“I would offer you my jacket, since it’s the gentlemanly thing to do, but you see some crazy person pushed me into the mud.”

A scoff escaped you as your hand playfully whipped out to slap his shoulder.

“Ya, Jungkook! You? A gentleman? That’s funny. What is also funny is the fact you got yourself stuck in the mud first. I just came to rescue you.”

“Rescue me?” He asked with an eyebrow coyly cocked.

“I’m like your knight in shining armor.”

A throaty laugh came from between his lips; sending his head back exposing his face to the sun. You were mesmerized watching him as the sun kissed down across his face and weren’t at all ashamed at being caught watching as he brought his attention back to you. A smile of your own growing to match the one he wore along with your mind fluttering in wonder of how he was even real.

“If you’re my knight, Y/N I’m in a lot of trouble.”

You feigned hurt but couldn’t hide the grin happily splayed on your face and, crazy thing was, you didn’t want to. It felt impossible that the two of you were so giddy with each other. A strange familiarity brewed heavily between you to the point it felt like the two of you joked like this for years.

Jungkook’s own smile enough to warm the chill that began to creep up your arms to expose goosebumps on your skin. The two of you fell into a shroud of companionable silence and continued to make your way back to the main entrance of the farm. Your heart skipping a helpless beat every time you feel Jungkook’s fingers graze across yours. Your mind hopelessly wanting to believe maybe, just maybe, he was tempted to reach out and hold it.

You came back to the main farm and found your teacher and classmates impatiently waiting. The immediate shock your teacher showed at your appearance seemed to grow more intense until he came storming over: hysterical at your current condition.

“What on earth have the two of you been doing?!”

“They’ve been rolling around with pigs.”

You knew that tart voice anywhere and wasn’t surprised it was Amber that spoke. What did surprise you was how much you didn’t care with Jungkook standing like an equally filthy calm current by your side.

“We’re sorry, seonsaegnim,” Jungkook began coolly with a bow. When he realized you were still standing a hand shot out to the back of your head to bring it down. You quickly slapped it away but kept yourself in a bow. “We got lost from the group and found ourselves stuck in a giant mud pit.”

“It seems to me like you were playing in it,” the farmer chuckled. “I could hose them off before they get back on the bus.”

His offer left heat rising to your cheeks. The sound of a sea of giggles making your stomach ache in embarrassment. You used the curtain of your hair to hide and hoped they’d come up with a different suggestion, but with a small shrug of his shoulder, Jungkook brought your heated attention back to him. A soft smile cracking the now dry handprint you’d left across his cheek.

It was ridiculous. You both looked ridiculous, and yet, he was still handsome. You probably looked like a troll.

“Hey Knight in shining armor,” he whispered. “It seems we get to take a bath together.”

The sun couldn’t be anywhere near as hot as your face felt. The heat spread from red cheeks and down your neck until the butterflies in your stomach were out of control. Jungkook knew what he had done. He could see it plainly on your face and he loved it.

You, on the other hand, wanted to hit him.

And just like divine intervention your teacher did it for you. His curled up pamphlet struck down on top of Jungkook’s head, but it only made his smile grow impossibly larger.

“Ya! I don’t think so! We’ll have you go one at a time to clean up. I’ll look for something for you both to change into.”

Jungkook went first to be hosed down. The farmer actually allowed him to have his privacy so he could get into his more...private areas in peace. The clothes that were found for both of you to wear were old gym clothes thrown in a box in the storage bay at the bottom of the bus. You imagined they must have been thrown there for a reason. The colors were sad and faded down to a color that resembled the mud you’d fallen in. An even sadder rim of yellow wrapped around the sleeves the only hope of color in the terrible outfit you were now forced to wear. At least it was warm with the added bonus Jungkook somehow ended up with the shortest shorts in the box.

After the two of you dried off and changed you were shepherded onto the bus. The place that held Amber and her minions now vacant due to the teacher demanding you sit exactly in the far back in their spot. He must have imagined it would be like putting two naughty kids in time out. The only effect it really had was giving you the chance to breathe and enjoy the solitude.

Jungkook dug around for your earbuds inside your bag. Finally finding the small container and lifting it open. His fingers pulling out the left and surprising you by placing it gently in your ear. Your face must have shown this but Jungkook paid you no mind. He was busy placing the other bud into his ear; flipping the case shut and throwing it back inside to forever be lost until you practically tipped out your bag to locate it again. Oh well. A problem for another time.

“Put on something for the ride home, Y/N. I trust you to be dj again.”

You wanted to tease him. To joke about putting on the YMCA or Macarena . The only thing that stopped you was the relaxed features of Jungkook’s face. The lazy way his neck rested back against the seat and his head languidly gazing in your direction. You tried to squish back all the butterflies that look gave you and a hushed, “Alright. Lady Marmalade it is,” embarrassingly came from between your lips.

Your eyes were too focused on your music list. You didn’t allow them to look as he chuckled beside you. The sound light and rough all at once - demanding you give it attention.

“Don’t make me regret it,” he joked.

You kept scrolling until you found Deans’ “D (Half Moon)”. The soft piano and tone of his voice quickly filled the ear buds and by the soft hum of the voice beside you, you knew you’d pick a good one.

You allowed yourself to relax beside him. Your right hand placing the playlist down between the two of you. Your body was so relaxed you didn’t think about moving your hand anywhere else. Your eyes falling comfortably closed as you continue to listen to the acoustics of the song and the even softer, and equally pleasurable, song of Jungkook singing along.

When his left hand found its way down beside yours, you didn’t question his reasoning. The music held between the two of you and maybe he wanted to change the playlist. You let your mind continue to think that even after his finger gingerly grazed yours and found a home beside them. Both of your hands stayed this way the entire ride back to campus. Neither of you moved to change positions; lost to the sounds of the melodies of the playlist.

#jeon jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook fanfiction #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts fluff #bts smut #jungkook fluff #kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #requested fic #bts #jeon jungkook #jungkook #kpop

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snelbz · 4 years

Text

A Battlefield’s Miracle {Nessian}

A/N: This story is based post ACOSF. It will 100% contain spoilers for A Court of Silver Flames. Do not read forward if you have not finished the book yet! Written, as always, with @tacmc.

It wasn’t supposed to be this way. There couldn’t have been a worse time or inopportune moment for a miracle.

When war did indeed break out with the remaining fae realms, ready to take up whatever lands were weaker their own, Nesta was one of the first to step up, much to Cassian’s utter dismay and terror.

And his disgustingly overwhelming pride.

She’d been making strides with the female Illyrians, thanks to re-emergence of the Valkyrie ranks. She, Gwyn and Emerie were infamous for their success in the Blood Rite, Nesta more so even if she wasn’t labeled a true Carynthian. Her stand at the Pass of Enalius was regarded as something straight from the legends, something rivaling Enalius’ stand itself.

Most of the women couldn’t fly, thanks to the archaic clipping of their wings, but thanks to their innate sense of battle, having grown up seeing their fathers, brothers, and cousins train, they were naturals.

They were the Valkyrie reborn, a swift, deadly legion of foot soldiers, who could kill just as well as any airborne soldier.

At Nesta’s request, Rhys and Cassian allowed them to protect the mortal lands from the incoming storm of battle. A small Illyrian legion was with them, but not to oversee or protect them. They were backup, only joining the fight if the majority of the Valkyrie were to fall.

It had been nearly three months of near daily battles when they received word of an incoming assault, larger than one they’d seen yet. To battle with as few soldiers as they had would be suicide. The full power of the Illyrian Legion would be arriving any day to ensure the protection of the mortal lands, and the continued strength of the Valkyrie. Feyre had winnowed into the camp to tell her, but Nesta could only focus on one piece of information as her sister hurriedly informed her of the plan, and of the onslaught they’d soon be facing: her mate would be here within the hour, the remainder of the Night Court’s aerial forces only a day or so behind.

It had been months since she’d seen him, though they checked in on each other regularly through the bond, mentally checking the other for injuries after a harsh battle. The mating bond was a sensual, tangible thing, something Nesta was increasingly thankful for the longer she stayed away from her mate and husband.

She felt a shift in the camp the second his feet touched down in the frozen lands, turning and rushing from the war tent she’d taken as her base of operations, leaving Feyre in the middle of a sentence, but not caring that she was ignoring her High Lady.

She found him as quickly as he found her, meeting in a small clearing, filled with tents. She was sure there were others around, whether Valkyrie or Illyrian, watching their reunion. Nesta needed him, in every sense of the word, but after she threw her arms around him she found herself pulling back to look him over. She was terrified there was something she had missed after his last battle, and it seemed he was doing the same.

“You’re okay,” she breathed, gazing up into his handsome face.

He nodded, leaning down to rest his forehead against hers. “So are you.”

Neither of them were asking a question, just needing the confirmation.

They disappeared soon after, falling into the nearest tent to make their overwhelming feelings known to one another. The emotions that escaped them in the following half hour only prepared them for battle more.

A battle that they faced together.

Just over a month later, once Cassian had left and Nesta was leading her sisters into yet another battle, the first wave of nausea came.

She powered through, ignoring the roiling in her stomach, chalking it up to nerves as she cut through the line of fae soldiers.

But it happened again, day after day. And eventually, leaning over a bucket as she emptied the contents of her stomach, she couldn’t ignore the truth anymore.

Nesta was pregnant.

She hadn’t even realized Gwyn and Emerie had entered her tent, having heard her getting sick. Her head was cradled in her hands and she cursed herself for being so reckless. All those months apart from Cassian, she’d quit taking her contraceptive tonic. There was no reason to, and it only slowed her down on the battlefield. But a quick and hasty joining, as perfect as it had been, was all it had taken.

“Nesta?”

Her head snapped up, finding her sisters, not by blood, but by bond, watching her. It was Emerie who had spoken her name, but Gwyn’s teal eyes had gone wide. She could scent it. Somehow, over the smell of bile in the bucket before her and the blood soaked battlefield, Gwyn had immediately sensed the change in Nesta’s scent and body.

“You’re pregnant,” she breathed and Emerie’s eyes widened as she too caught the scent.

Nesta wasn’t sure what to say, terrified to confirm or deny the life growing inside her.

A message was sent to Velaris and within minutes, Feyre and Madja had winnowed into the camps.

It took the healer less than a few minutes to confirm the small life within her.

“You’re coming back to Velaris,” Feyre said, as Madja washed her hands and went to tend to the badly wounded from the previous battle.

“No,” Nesta protested, donning her leathers, as she did every day. “I’m leading my sisters.”

“Gwen and Emerie can take the lead,” Feyre protested. “They are just as skilled and know what they’re doing-.”

“I can’t just leave them-.”

“You’re pregnant!” Feyre yelled, and the look of pure panic on her youngest sister’s face had Nesta stopping in her tracks. The High Lady of the Night Court’s voice turned into a broken whisper as she begged, “Please, think this through.”

Nesta’s jaw hardened as she lifted her chin, doing everything she could to keep herself from shaking her head. “Do you expect Cassian to come back to Velaris? To sit idly while our troops battle to protect Prythian?”

“I expect him to do his duty,” Feyre said, her tone firm. “Just as I expect you to do yours.”

Her words were clear.

Nesta’s duty - not as a soldier, but as a mother.

She shook her head, her eyes remaining on her sister’s. “He’ll miss it.”

It. Everything. All of it. Her pregnancy, the child growing inside of her, possibly even the birth of their child.

The gut-wrenching thought was overwhelming.

Nesta fell back against the bed, sitting and letting her head fall into her hands, her nerves shot. She needed to talk to Cassian, needed to sort it out.

“Nesta.”

Her eyes shot to Feyre’s, the eyes identical to her own. Except her youngest sister’s eyes held fear. Fear for her safety, the safety of her unborn niece or nephew.

With a sigh, Nesta let her eyes fall shut and nodded. She dragged a hand down her face, and said, “I need to meet with Gwyn and Em. I need to plan with them, figure out how to rework the front line-.”

“They can handle it.”

The voice came from behind her and she turned to find Azriel stepping through the tent.

Nesta’s eyes softened as she took in her friend, one of the warriors who had trained her into who she was today.

“They had the same training you did,” he said, coming to stand next to her sister. “I’ll stay here for a couple weeks, but you can’t stay. It’s not safe for you. Or for the baby.”

Nesta lifted a brow.

Azriel shrugged, crossing his arms. “If you think I’m letting you stay here during this-.”

“Since when do you order me around, Shadowsinger?” Nesta asked, meaning it as a joke, but finding it hard to dismiss the tension from her tone.

Azriel could tell.

He could always tell. His eyes softened, although his frame remained rigid. “As soon as Cassian arrives, I’ll winnow him to you.”

We’re in the middle of a gods-damned war! Nesta wanted to scream. And yet, she was conflicted. She knew what she had to do, knew what this new duty entailed, knew what her next step would be, even if she didn’t fully like the idea.

She never backed down from battle, from war, from anything.

But she would not endanger her child, no matter how guilty it made her feel.

With a resigned sigh, Nesta nodded and reached her hand out towards her sister. Before Feyre took her hand, she looked at Azriel, unable to stop the tear that had finally slid down her cheek. “Tell them I’m sorry,” she breathed.

His smile was gentle, but even she had a hard time believing him as he said, “You have no reason to be.”

With that she was winnowed away, back to Velaris, as far from the small camp on the mortal lands as she could be. Far from her soul-bonded sisters, and fellow warriors. Far from the raging battles she’d grown to know as a part of her.

As soon as Cassian touched down in the ramshackle camp, he knew something wasn’t right. None of the Valkyrie would look at him and the bond… It was near silent.

He hurried for her tent, not even remembering what the summons he’d received had said, not that he’d read it all too carefully. He’d been asked to get to the mortal realm as fast as he could and after leaving his tent, he found the first Fae he knew that could winnow.

It had only been minutes since that small note had appeared from Rhysand, and he burst into the tent and found not his mate, but his brother.

“What the fuck is going on, Az?”

His voice held none of the joking tone it usually did when he spoke with the shadowsinger, but-.

He could scent her, she’d been here only a few moments before. But something was…off.

Words barely audible, a deathly quiet, terrified whisper, he breathed, “Where is Nesta?”

Without a word, Azriel held out his scarred hand.

Cassian took it and then they were tumbling through space and time and he had no idea where they were going to end up.

Where was Nesta? Where was his mate?

When they appeared in the atrium of the river house, Cassian looked around. “I don’t understand.”

“Your mate is waiting for you,” Azriel replied, gesturing towards their room, and it was then Cassian noted the hint of a smile on his face.

And like that, he was gone, disappearing into shadows and mist as if he hadn’t even been standing before him.

The house was quiet and Cassian took the stairs two at a time, hurrying down the long hallway until he approached their closed bedroom door.

He debated on knocking, not sure what he’d find on the other side, but with a shaking hand, he turned the knob and stepped inside.

Nesta was inside the attached bathroom, wearing the pants of her leathers, though the intricate jacket was draped across the end of the bed. She wore a thin, white shirt, which showed off her toned arms. He couldn’t see any discernible wounds on her, but was still hesitant as he took a step into the bathroom.

She’d been so lost in her own thoughts that she hadn’t heard him come in, but suddenly, he appeared in the mirror behind her, and the force of her emotions hit her all at once.

She was in his arms instantly, breathing in his scent with an eagerness she hadn’t felt since their last encounter. Neither of them said a word as their clothes hit the floor, but the second Cassian’s lips met her neck, all of his, his primal instincts faded and he swept back into reality the moment he found himself focusing on her scent.

The change in it.

His chest heaved as he pulled back and met her tearful gaze.

“How long have you known?” he asked, quietly.

She shook her head, slowly. The soft chuckle was involuntary. “Not even an hour.”

“That’s why you’re here,” he said, quietly.

It wasn’t a question, but Nesta nodded, even as she ignored the urge to roll her eyes. “High Lady’s orders.”

Lifting her up in his arms, he carried her to the bed, his carnal instincts long forgotten, and he laid down next to her. Cassian’s hand hovered over her stomach, a small, barely discernible bump there, hardly able to believe what was in front of him.

“The battle against Rask’s forces,” he said, voice quiet. “You hadn’t been taking your tonic?”

Sniffling, she shook her head and gently pressed his hand the rest of the way to her skin, to her belly. “It hadn’t been on my mind,” she admitted.

Cassian was quiet for a moment before he huffed a laugh, his fingers moving in a slow, clockwise rotation over her abdomen. “A baby.”

Nesta nodded, watching him. “It’s not a good time.”

“Is there ever a good time?” Cassian muttered, looking up at her. “The reality of our world doesn’t grant us much peace.”

“Is it even fair to bring a child into this world?” Nesta whispered.

Cassian’s eyes softened, although they held no judgement. “I thought you wanted children.”

“I did,” she said, then followed it quickly with, “I do. It’s just… We’re in the middle of war, Cass.”

“War will end,” he promised, his eyes growing soft. “Soon.”

She closed her eyes, gently pressing her forehead against his, and the two of them laid there, quietly basking in the happiness of the little miracle they’d created. Of the child they would soon bring into this world.

Cassian couldn’t stay long, only able to stay the night and have breakfast with his family. Azriel was still monitoring the front at the mortal lands, but the rest of his family was there. There was no shield to be put up to mask Nesta’s scent, so the second Elain walked into the vast dining room and found her eldest sister, she froze. And as soon as she scented the change, she was in motion. Her arms were around Nesta in a flash, the sound coming from her reminiscent of a mix of a sob and laugh.

But as soon as breakfast had been cleared away, after Nyx had woken from his nap, Rhysand and Cassian stepped out into the lush yard. With a final surge of love and pride down the bond, they vanished into the air, back to the Illyrian front.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Breathe.”

Nesta shot her youngest sister and High Lady a look of pure hatred. Feyre only rolled her eyes and held her sister’s hand a little bit tighter.

“What the fuck do you think I’m doing?” Nesta hissed, although her entire body was rigid and clenched.

Labor was no joke. Nesta had watched her mother birth two more children after her, and even though she was too young to remember, she never forgot the horrid screams that came from her mother’s bedroom.

Nuala, Cerridwen, and Elain all hovered around the bed, keeping Nesta as comfortable as possible until Madja arrived.

And until her mate arrived.

Since she’d found out, it had been the longest nine months of her life, only seeing Cassian in small moments when he could leave the bloodshed of battle. Once it was apparent her water had broken, Rhys had winnowed to the location he’d known Cassian’s camp had been last, only to find it hastily packed and abandoned. The sounds of battle weren’t far off, but Rhys could sense the death without moving closer.

He’d tried to mentally reach Cassian, but found his shields were locked in place, as he often did during a bloody battle. Azriel, however, was by his side in an instant. “What is it?”

He could smell the blood of both mortal men and the fae on his brother, not daring to look into his mind to see who all he’d had to cut down in battle. “Nesta’s in labor.”

A sharp swallow was the only reaction Azriel allowed his High Lord to see. He said, “He won’t leave the battle, you know that.”

He would, Rhys thought, if he used his power, his title of High Lord to command him. But he would never do that, especially asking him to abandon his post during a battle. Rhys only nodded. “I know. Just… As soon as it dies down, as soon as he comes back to himself, get him to Velaris.”

Azriel nodded, his orders received, and he was gone, a misting, swirling shadow folding back into the fray.

It was hours before the violence subsided, hours before Cassian finally removed his helmet, surveying the carnage and death that surrounded him. He felt Azriel’s presence, rather than saw him appear, and turned to his brother, expecting a report of who all had been lost.

The look on his face told him otherwise.

“What.”

He still wasn’t fully back to himself yet, though he tried. He still wore the mask of the Commander, the male who had slaughtered so many, to protect his people, Enalius reborn.

Azriel’s words were quiet, but urgent. “It’s time.”

Cassian blinked, not understanding what his brother was saying.

And then he dropped his shields and everything from the other end of the bond slammed into him with a force so strong her face physically staggered back a step.

Labor.

Nesta was in labor.

His child was about to enter the world and he’d been so lost in his battle lust that he’d blocked her out.

“How long?” He asked, eyes going wide.

Azriel shook his head. “I’m not sure. At least four hours.”

Swallowing hard, Cassian looked around at the death and destruction around him. He looked down at the blood and gore that coated his hands and his leathers. He couldn’t abandon his troops after a battle, but his mate…

His child…

There was no question.

Azriel extended his hand and Cassian took it, and a second later, there was nothing but shadows left behind.

*****************

“Nesta, you’re going to have to start pushing,” Elain said, gently, brushing the loose, sweaty strands of hair off of Nesta’s forehead.

“No,” she gritted out, her teeth clenched together. “I can’t. Not until-.” Another wave of blinding pain passed through her and the scream that tore from her was pure agony. Once she could think again, speak again, she breathed, “Not until Cassian is here.”

“That’s not in your control, I’m afraid,” Madja chimed in from the foot of the bed. “Baby will come when baby comes, and baby is ready.”

“Not unless I say so,” Nesta spat, just before another scream flew from her throat. “Fuck!”

“Baby’s coming,” Madja said, remaining perfectly calm as she put herself into position. With Nesta’s hand in Elain’s, and her other in Feyre’s, she had no choice but to push.

Madja was right.

Baby wasn’t waiting.

There was a thundering on the stairs, and heavy footsteps approached the door before it flew open.

A sob tore from Nesta as Cassian appeared in the doorway, his eyes wide, taking in the scene before him.

“Nes,” he breathed, taking a few steps towards her, but Feyre stepped in front of him.

“You can’t be in here,” she said, firmly.

His eyes narrowed. “Like hell, I can’t.”

“The High Lady is correct,” Madja chimed in, turning back to glance at him. “You are…covered in filth, and Lady Nesta cannot chance an infection.”

“He’s my mate,” she breathed, panting slightly from the pain, the urge to push.

“He’s covered in blood, Nesta,” Feyre said, turning back to look at her.

“We do not have time to wait for him to bathe and return,” Madja said, looking under the blanket draped across Nesta’s lap, to provide what modesty she could. “The baby is ready, my lady. It’s time.”

A firm hand wrapped around Cassian’s arm and began to tug him towards the door. He turned to find Rhysand when he was out in the hall and the door was shut on a phantom wind.

It was only a few seconds before he heard a sob and a yell full of anguish and suffering.

The sound made him want to vomit.

“Bath is ready,” Rhysand said, his hand still around Cassian’s arm. “Bathe, go back. Until then, she’s in good hands.”

“I’m missing it,” Cassian breathed, but before he could form a cohesive thought, he was being shoved into a tub full of warm water.

Nuala and Cerridwen had stripped him down and were scrubbing his skin raw in a matter of seconds. Cassian couldn’t focus, though, could hardly feel as they cleansed the blood and gore and carnage from his skin.

All he could focus on was Nesta’s screaming from upstairs.

Cassian helped them scrub his massive frame, and between the three of them they washed the remains of battle from the Commander until the lukewarm bath water turned pink from the blood of his enemies and his fallen comrades.

As soon as he was clean, the wraiths vanished, allowing him to dry off and redress himself, a tunic and pants left on the counter of the bathroom. Every scream from his wife had him flinching, every cry and overwhelming wave of pain reaching him down the bond now that his shields had been fully dropped.

But suddenly, the screams stopped. Suddenly, love and adoration was all he could feel from Nesta, and he threw open the door and was hurrying up the stairs again, his bare feet padding against the carpet.

The door was slightly open, cracked just a hair, and he could hear quiet murmuring from inside. Hesitantly, he reached out and pushed the door open.

He froze, his body growing completely still as he took in the sight before him. Nesta laid in the bed, her chest heaving, silent tears streaming down her cheeks. Elain and Feyre were both smiling, crying themselves, as they looked to the foot of the bed, where Madja was holding the smallest of babes.

A baby.

Nesta’s baby.

His baby.

The gentlest of cries filled the silence.

Madja chuckled, softly, as she cut the umbilical cord and laid the baby on the softest of towels to clean her up.

Her.

He had a daughter.

“Cass?”

Cassian’s eyes drifted to Nesta and his vision blurred.

He didn’t consciously tell his body to move, didn’t remember asking his feet to carry him across the room, but before he knew it, he was kneeling by the bed, pressing his forehead against hers.

“You did so good, sweetheart,” he whispered, the tears already streaming down his cheeks. “You did so, so good.”

“Lord Cassian.”

He pressed a kiss to Nesta’s forehead, but moved back, allowing Madja to lay the small bundle in Nesta’s arms. Her tiny wings were loosely tucked inside the blanket she was wrapped in.

Nesta’s eyes filled with tears again as she looked down at the precious baby in her arms. “She’s beautiful.”

Silently, Nesta’s sisters and the healer left them alone, to spend a few moments last as a family.

The tiny baby began to fuss and Nesta softly brushed a finger along her cheek, gently shushing her.

She calmed immediately.

“She looks like you,” Cassian whispered, staring at his daughter in awe. “Has your nose. Your lips.”

“Your skin,” Nesta breathed. “And that unruly, curly hair of yours.”

Cassian huffed a laugh. True enough, little tufts of dark curls covered her head. “She’s perfect.”

Nesta didn’t reply. She simply swept her thumb over their daughter’s soft cheek.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here,” Cassian said, at last. “I… I’m sorry I missed it, that I wasn’t here for you.”

“You’re here now,” she murmured, looking up at him. “You’re here and that’s all that matters.”

With a soft smile, Cassian wiped a wayward tear from her cheek and pressed his lips to hers.

Beaming up at him, Nesta whispered, “Hold her.”

He froze up a little, only having held Nyx a handful times when he was a baby. Babies were fragile and he was…

Well, there was a reason both Nesta and Amren had always called him a brute.

“It’s okay,” Nesta breathed, sensing his hesitation.

He nodded and sat down on the bed next to her. She transferred the tiny bundle to him and her eyes opened almost as soon as she settled in his arms.

Eyes like the storm gazed up at him and Cassian had never felt so much love in his heart.

He swallowed roughly, brushing a gentle thumb across her cheek. He looked up at Nesta. “Have you thought of a name?”

She smiled, fondly, softly. “Brenna.”

“Brenna,” Cassian repeated. “I like Brenna.”

“I’ve been holding onto that name for a while,” Nesta said, quietly.

Cassian chuckled. “I can tell. There was no hesitation.”

Nesta smiled as her head fell against Cassian’s shoulder. She looked down at her daughter. “Brenna felt right.”

After pressing a kiss to the top of Nesta’s head, Cassian gazed down at their daughter. “She’s… she’s perfect.”

“She is,” Nesta replied, a gentle yawn breaking through her words.

Cassian scooted closer on the bed, careful not to jostle their daughter who had settled back into a deep sleep of her own. He wrapped an arm around Nesta’s shoulders, and she wrapped herself around him as best she could.

In that moment, Cassian couldn’t imagine anything else mattering in this world. No lands, no wars, no hidden troves beneath the sea. In his arms, his wife and his daughter, were the most precious treasures he had ever received.

#a court of silver flames #nessian #acosf spoilers #nesta archeron #cassian #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas

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f1nalboys · 4 years

Note

greetings! your writing is so good! i was wondering if i could request some angst HCs of how billy, stu, and brahms would handle a breakup with their s/o? im in an angsty mood lmao. if this is a lot no worries!

hi there, thank you so much for the request! sorry for the long wait, i’ve been a bit sick recently lol, but i really hope you enjoy this! i had a lot of fun writing it honestly!

WARNINGS: mention of death, implied torture 0_0

BILLY:

the two of you had been arguing more and more with each passing day. the stress from school, his...extracurricular activities, and life in general, were getting to him, and he needed an outlet for his frustrations and unfortunately turned to you

he didn't notice the distance it was putting between you two; you had fought before and made up, why would this time be any different? he only realized how much he fucked up when he came back to the house and discovered that you were packing your bags

he’d question you, anger bubbling up more than he’d care to admit because he loved you and you were just going to walk out on him?

and then you started crying

he lets you leave, stammering out an apology, unsure of what to feel and what to do. if you didn't know about the killing, he’d be leaning towards trying to forget about you, but if you knew? there was no leaving.

he wouldn't want to hurt you; the mere idea would be like a punch to the gut, but he knew better than to have someone out there with that knowledge

he’d try and get back together, apologizing and promising to change, but if you denied his advances you should be expecting a phone call

regardless of what happens though, he would feel like shit. the memories of his mom leaving would replay over and over again in his mind; two of the most important people in his life had left him

he's blaming himself. there's no way he wouldn't be, and the guilt would only heighten if he had to kill you because your face draining of life as you realized that the person you had loved was the one under the mask would stay with him forever

he turns into himself, shutting Stu out and going out to hunt alone

he didn't need to sink the knife into the victim in front of him to know that he wouldn't ever feel quite as normal as he had with you

STU:

he seriously assumes you're joking when it happens

“Good one, baby! Come on, we’re missing the movie”

his heart completely breaks when you tell him you're serious. He starts tearing up, asking you what he did, and begging you not to go, that he loved you, that he needed you.

he’d be with billy, sobbing. talking about how hurt he was, how angry, sad, and frustrated he was.

He wouldn't be as lively in school as he normally is and people would notice, whispering about how you had broken his heart in a way they had never seen before

Every time he saw you in class or in the hallways he would get this stabbing feeling in his gut, almost feeling the way you would cling to his shirt as you hugged him, almost smelling your shampoo as he did when he would place a kiss to the top of your head

Regardless of if you know about the killing, he is going to try and win you back in any way possible. He knows all of your favorite things and would surprise you with them, a handwritten note included, and if that didn't work he would just try something else

The only time he would get angry is if you told him to leave you alone, telling him that you and he would never get back together ever. He’d start seeing red, especially if you were around other guys, his mind immediately going to the idea that you had broken up with him so you're able to fuck someone else

It’s at this point he would consider the idea of killing you. We all saw what happened to Casey Becker, and if he decided you needed to go, you wouldn't last the weekend

and he’d make sure you saw his face, saw the pain you put him through and you would feel it too. it wouldn't be quick and easy. he’d relish in it

he’d be distraught after, coming to terms with the fact that he had killed you and billy would have to calm him down, telling him he did what he needed to do

you’d slowly become an afterthought in his mind, popping up once in a while but the good feelings you had once invoked in him were replaced with anger

BRAHMS:

he would be confused, asking you why you were avoiding him, why you were packing your things

if you told him the truth, that you and he were over with, your death would be swift

he’d either strangle you, feeling your body go limp under him, or he’d stab you, getting it done quickly

but if you lied and he later found out the truth?

he would make sure it lasted

no one was in the house with the two of you and there was no point in you screaming for help. he would take him time, completely taken over by his anger

“You’re a liar.”

after it was done, he would sit in the room and stare at your body, his mind trying to make him understand what happened

he’s killed before, all of his previous nannies, and he had loved most of them

but you were the one who had gotten through to him, loved him for who he was, helped him break down the barriers he had built up through the years

and you had wanted to leave

any progress you had made with him would be undone and honestly, he’d probably regress even more

if somehow, miraculously, he let you survive and leave, he would never forgive you

his anger would fester in him and every time he thought of you he’d get a bitter taste in his mouth

his parents would tell him you didn't deserve him, that he was special and one day one of the nannies would understand that

he’d cry himself to sleep often, wondering if a persons heart could actually break in two

#character x reader #scream 1996 #the boy 2016 #brahms heelshire #stu macher #billy loomis #billy and stu #ghostface #request #slasher headcanons #slasher imagines #s1mping4slashers answers #s1mping4slashers works #s1mping4slashers writing

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autumnslance · 3 years

Text

FFXIV Write 2021 #5: Freebie - Passion (Aberrant pt 2) NSFW

((Since some of y’all are thirsty and let’s face it I am deep in this backstory))

Corran fumbled with the door to their room, managing to get it open without dropping Emelia. “Don’t slam it!” She admonished as he kicked it closed behind them.

It was only a few steps to their bed, to drop her on the mattress and follow her down, kissing her once more. Gods, the shape of her mouth fit perfectly against his, and her taste was more delectable than his favorite meal.

She broke the kiss, preventing him from chasing her with a hand against his chest. “Lock the door,” she panted.

Corran grunted in frustration, but got up to do as she bid. As much as he hated pausing now, it was better than possibly being walked in on by their small son; the lock would keep him at bay for a brief time.

Corran yanked his shirt off as he crossed the room, the night air doing little to cool the fever in his skin. He threw the lock and turned back to the bed, eyes already adjusted to the dim light, his breath caught by the sight of her.

“Stop,” he ordered as she finished removing her dress, leaving her in her flimsy petticoat and chemise. Emelia blinked at him, head tilted in her usual quizzical expression while letting the dress fall to the ground. Corran stalked forward, unlacing his breeches. “I want to undress you myself,” he told her, his voice pitched low. He was gratified to see her shiver in response, waiting while he removed his boots so he could drop his pants, left only in his smalls. He saw the tip of her tongue flick over her lips as her gaze took in his arousal through the thin fabric.

Corran fell on her again, mouth finding hers once more, tongue plunging between her lips. He made his way down her neck as he untied and unhooked her remaining clothes, freeing her shoulders to kiss along them. Emelia’s cool hands smoothed over his back and sides, and she made sweet little sounds of pleasure as his lips and teeth raked over familiar sensitive places. “You feel hot as an oven,” she murmured. “Are you all right, love?”

“More than,” Corran replied, freeing her breasts. He cupped and squeezed one, her head falling back as he nipped the stiffened nipple of the other. They weren’t large breasts, but perfect for being held, or taken into his mouth. The shape and feel of them had changed after being used to feed their child, but Corran couldn’t recall anymore how they used to be and he liked them just fine now.

He pushed her clothes down her slender torso and over her hips, which she lifted for him. He pressed kisses to her ribs, her stomach, her sides. His tongue traced along her stretch marks, teasing the sensitive places they led to. She had been so worried about the effects carrying and bearing a child had on her form, but Corran thought the lines and altered shape of her abdomen lovely--further reminders of the love and life they had created together.

Her fingers raked through his hair as he found the waist of her smalls and pulled them down along with her petticoat. He had not quite freed her legs but his impatience won out, helping her kick off the tangle of fabric as he nipped at her inner thighs and over her hips. A needy whine came from her and destroyed what was left of his resolve, his mouth covering her sex.

Emelia arced beneath him, a small cry passing her lips. He grinned against her softness, relishing the scent and taste of her desire as he laved his tongue along her wet folds. He thrust his tongue into her as deep as he could, knowing it wasn’t enough for her but gods he loved how she tasted, how she spread her legs further, inviting him closer and deeper. He made his way up to the sensitive nub at the crown and covered it entirely, sucking and licking at it. She practically wailed, one hand gripping the sheets, the other his scalp. He knew exactly how much pressure to use, how to use his tongue in long strokes to push her swiftly to the brink.

“Gods, Corran, I—” she was writhing in his grasp, breath catching. He hummed an affirmation against her, unrelenting. Usually he liked to draw this out, taking his time while slowly ratcheting up her tension, ensuring she was ready to take him in, but tonight he needed to drink from her and hear her scream for him.

She did, calling his name while her hips bucked as much as he would allow, the heady scent of her release filling his nose, her taste filling his mouth, finally overpowering the aftertaste of Avengret’s blood as he pressed his tongue into Emelia again. He looked up, breathing heavily, watching her. Her midnight hair pooled around her head on the skewed pillows, chest heaving, golden-brown skin slick and shining with sweat as her sparkling dark eyes returned his gaze.

“Perfect,” he growled, rising up to kiss her again, her arms and a leg eagerly wrapping around him as she responded with equal fervor, working his smalls down his legs to free and stroke his throbbing cock.

“Gods, Em,” he moaned, her touch making him dizzy. “Soon as you’re ready—”

“Take me, Cor,” she urged, guiding him. “I need you inside.”

He needed no further encouragement, shifting position and thrusting into her, hilting himself in one swift motion. She gasped, nails digging into his shoulders. Corran groaned against the curve of her neck; she felt so damned good, wet heat tight around him, soft muscles fluttering and clenching along his length.

“Oh, gods,” she exclaimed as he drew back and thrust again, setting a quick, hard pace. He lifted himself, arms straight with elbows locked, watching her, knowing just the right angles to keep pressure on her clit while also dragging himself over that sweet spot inside her. Emelia’s head tossed, face scrunching, breath coming in gulps and gasps with each rough stroke and her body’s own responses, rocking to meet his every motion. Her nails left scratches down his arms as their bodies slapped wetly against each other, the bed frame creaking and squealing and slamming against the wall.

Her hips stuttered, internal muscles clenching and fluttering wildly as her breath came shorter, her tension building. Corran grinned, sweat dripping from him to splash on the pillows and her. “Th-that’s it,” he managed. “Come, Em; lemme hear you.”

“Cor—!” She lost coherence as she cried out, lifting toward him, her release pulsing around him as he continued his hard pace, falling to his elbows as he did not, could not, let up, his own tension building until the rush of blood in his head nearly drowned out all other sound. She gripped the nape of his neck and his back now, her nails digging into his skin and cutting through the haze of sensation. He reached down and hooked his arm under her leg, opening her further, taking him deeper as he needed more of her, more, more…

There!

He shouted her name, vaguely aware he had pushed her from the previous orgasm to yet another peak as he spilled inside her, Emelia crying out again and clinging to him for dear life as she shook like a leaf, body still jumping against his as they both slowly came down.

Corran rolled and fell to the side, pulling her tight to him, stroking her hair and back, burying his face in the crook of her neck again, idly licking the bruising bite mark he had left there, claiming his mate. He was heaving for air and sweating like the sinner he was, but the raging firestorm in his veins had abated, the Song merely a faint echo in his head and drowned out by the little sounds his wife made as they recovered.

“L-let me up,” she finally said, still shaky.

He growled and held her closer.

“I need to clean up,” she insisted, finally extricating herself while Corran pouted. She could barely stand, wobbling as she snagged her robe and unlocked the door to make her way to the wash.

Corran lay on his back, arms splayed, staring at nothing, head blessedly free from the earlier buzzing, empty of thought beyond the growing awareness of the aftermath of their lovemaking. He eventually forced himself up to pull the soaked coverlet off the bed--they hadn’t even gotten underneath it to the sheets--leaving it in a ball in the corner to be dealt with in the morning. He filled a glass from the pitcher she kept on the nightstand, drinking it swiftly and pouring another to drink at a more normal pace.

By the time Emelia returned, their discarded clothing had been picked up and hung on the correct pegs along the wall to also be dealt with on the morrow while Corran lay among the turned down sheets.

She slid into bed next to him, hands remaining a cooling balm as they ran over his chest. “Zaine’s still sleeping, somehow,” she said. “Though we were loud enough to rouse the dead.”

“Didn’t hear you complaining,” he teased, pulling her close once more.

“Certainly not,” she answered, looking down at him. “Though I am curious what brought that on.”

For a wild second he thought of telling her, but dismissed the notion before it even finished forming. He brushed strands of damp hair away from her face and smiled. He would continue to keep her as far from his people’s war as possible; he had decided that from the beginning. “Can’t a man want to swive his beautiful wife he adores with all his heart now and again?”

She laughed, that easy blush blooming on her cheeks once more. “I suppose he can; I know I enjoyed it. Although,” she yawned and settled against him, using his chest as a pillow.

“Although?”

“We were reckless; I’ll have to track myself for the next moon.”

His heart paused for a moment as he realized what she meant. While she often took a medicine to regulate her cycles, he usually wore a skin, or finished outside of her to be on the safe side. That...had not happened tonight, and he wondered how much of that was the dragon’s influence versus his simple, instinctual need for his beloved after the day’s events.

“It wouldn’t be a bad thing,” he said, not realizing immediately he had said it out loud, but then she tilted her head up.

“You want another baby?” She asked, tentative.

Could he maintain his responsibility to the cause, reaffirmed just this day? Probably, though it would be difficult. He had waited long enough, while life itself, he was finding, did not. “Do you?”

She hummed a little, snuggling in again. “It could be nice,” she replied. “I think Zaine would like a brother or sister.”

“Well,” Corran said, licking his suddenly dry lips. “If tonight doesn’t do it, I suppose we’ll just have to try again.” He tilted her chin up to kiss her one more time--gods, he really did love kissing her--and smiled. “Assuming you’re agreeable.”

“I’m sure you’ll convince me,” she replied, lips brushing his as they spoke. They laughed together, and he continued to stroke her back as she settled back down to using him as a pillow.

It took time for Corran to fall asleep, aware of Emelia’s steady breathing and her soft form alongside him, cooling the remaining heat in his blood. When he finally did close his eyes, he dreamed of her laughter while dragon wings beat through the sky.

---

(Direct sequel to Aberrant, Day 2 prompt for the FFXIVWrite2021)

#FFXIVWrite2021 #Final Fantasy XIV #Lyn Writing #Backstory #Corran Striker #Emelia Striker #sometimes I write smut #Lemons

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helnjk · 4 years

Text

Lost In The Night - D.M.

Draco Malfoy x fem!gryffindor!reader

Requested: yes

Ello! Hope your not too busy. If you could, could you write a prompt #42 and a prompt#46 together as in, in one story.. If you could that would be lovely and if you can't no worries! ♥️;

Hey if your requests are open could you do a prompt #42 & promot#46 for draco. Much appreciated!

“what the hell were you thinking?” “who hurt you?”

Word count: 2.2k

Warnings: Umbridge & her quill, blood, slight angst but with a happy ending!

Summary: Somehow, Umbridge finds a way to ruin everything. Luckily, Draco is there to pick up the pieces and hold you tight.

Prompts are in bold

---

Being in Gryffindor was great. Being a Gryffindor dating a Slytherin, not as great. Being a Gryffindor secretly dating a Slytherin who just so happened to be Draco Malfoy, a little complicated.

You couldn't pinpoint the exact moment you fell in love with Draco, but he chipped away at your armor little by little until he held your heart firmly in his hands.

You could tell that something was different about him around third year, he was less of an entitled prick and actually managed not to bother your housemates much that year. It seemed like he finally managed to get it in his head that he wasn’t any better than the rest of you, despite his pure bloodline.

It was fourth year that you had started actually paying some more attention to him. Your eyes automatically finding him whenever you were in the same room together. He noticed too, sending you discreet smirks that caused a flutter in your stomach. One day in Potions he decided to sit by you instead of his usual seat and you merely raised an eyebrow at him. That was when the note passing began.

Hogsmeade this weekend? He wrote down on a scrap piece of parchment beside his ingredients, pretending to take down notes on what was brewing in his cauldron.

You asking me out on a date, Malfoy? You wrote back, managing to slip it back to him while Snape had his back turned.

Possibly. Was his only reply.

It’s gonna take much more than that for me to say yes.

Neither of you could continue passing this note between yourselves as your attentions turned back to the complicated potions were brewing and Snape had begun making his rounds around the room.

It wasn’t unusual after that for you to find scraps of parchment shoved into your books or between your notes, all containing Draco’s distinct handwriting. The contents of the notes were never the same, sometimes he would tell you about his day, other times he would write down clever little jokes or interesting food combinations for you to try out. Soon, you had found yourself eagerly waiting for these little messages and tidbits of information about the blonde haired boy.

The Astronomy tower is my favorite place in the whole castle. It’s nice to just sit there and be with my thoughts.

The Giant Squid is a girl. Don’t ask how I know.

Next time you’re down in the kitchens, ask the house elves for some vanilla ice cream and a plate of fresh chips.

It wasn’t long before you finally agreed to go on that date to Hogsmeade.

After that, your feelings for Draco bloomed quite quickly. Discrete study sessions in the library lasted long into the night, little gifts would appear in your bag or on your bed when you would have a rough day, subtle touches were shared whenever you had class together. You two were never seen publicly displaying any kind of affection though, which made it seem like you guys weren’t exactly dating.

You were fine with that kind of set up, preferring to keep your love life private and away from prying eyes. It also helped filter out the gossip about you and the questions you knew your friends would ask if they knew. They thought your friendship with Draco was a little off-putting, but chose not to say anything because they saw how he was different from your first few years in Hogwarts.

Fifth year was a little more tricky to deal with since Umbridge was around and stomping around like she owned the place.

Tensions were high as she constantly berated and belittled Harry, calling him a liar and embarrassing him in front of everyone in class. You were friends with him, Ron, and Hermione and of course you knew the truth. It made your blood boil that she thought she could treat him, or any other student for that matter, like that.

Draco, on the other hand, chose to keep quiet and keep out of Umbridge’s way. He didn’t want to get on her bad side, understandably, since his father was so closely involved in the Ministry.

“The more you keep your head down, the better love,” He would say as you complained to him about how awful she could be to Harry during your study sessions at the library, “I know for a fact that she wouldn’t hesitate to make you use that damn quill too if you gave her any reason. I don’t want you going through that.”

For the most part, you listened to his advice.

One day, however, you were just so over everything Umbridge had to say. She had gotten a dig in at Harry and his “lies” one too many times during class and you had just lost it.

“Oh shut up,” You snapped out loud.

Hermione’s head snapped to yours as quickly as you had said it, eyes wide in panic. Even Harry, who was trying his hardest not to retaliate because of his already sore and cut hand, gave you a look that said don’t bother.

“Excuse me?” The toad dressed in pink sent you a sarcastic smile, “What did you just say?”

You felt Hermione grip your arm as if to say please don’t. You shook her off.

“I said, shut up.” You spoke clearly, “You have no right to be ridiculing, and frankly humiliating, someone who is just a student and a minor, especially when you’re in a position of authority.”

The whole room was silent. Usually those who got on Umbridge’s bad side were those who chose not to follow her stupid educational degrees, or who spoke of Voldemort’s return. No one had ever called her out so publicly and straight to her face.

“Detention for the rest of the week, Miss Y/L/N. For speaking out of turn,” Was all Umbridge said.

You rolled your eyes but stayed silent, heart hammering in your chest when the realization of what exactly detention with her meant. A puff of breath escaped your lips and your mind wandered for the rest of the period, none of your friends bothering to ask if you were okay, clearly seeing that you weren’t in the right headspace.

The first few days of detention, you didn’t tell Draco where you were going, just saying that you were busy those nights and couldn’t really spend as much time with him as you liked. He was skeptical, but understood nonetheless. Every night before you two split ways, you going to Umbridge’s office and him heading for the dungeons, he would gently kiss you on the lips and whisper a soft I love you.

Those little reassurances were what helped you power through every sting of the words “I will not speak out of turn” on the back of your hand. As each detention wore on, though, you could feel your strength wavering.

On Friday night, the last night of your detention, you walked into Umbridge’s office and every breath you took shook from nerves. Your hand hadn’t healed from the previous night and it was more than painful. It pulsed as you waited for her to give you the go signal to start writing, and four hours later, it was red and raw. Blood dripped down from the edges of the words that no doubt left a scar and you couldn’t help the tears as they escaped the corners of your eyes.

The moment you stepped through the threshold of her office and into the silent corridor, a sob escaped your lips. You couldn’t bear to go back to Gryffindor tower yet but it was way past curfew and you couldn’t be seen wandering around the corridors. That meant that you found yourself in an empty alcove, trying to contain your tears and murmur quick healing spells on your hand.

You felt like such a baby, letting that foul woman get the better of you, but there was no mistaking the damage she did on you, both physically and mentally.

“Y/N?” You heard someone whisper. You nearly jumped out of your skin, quickly wiping your eyes with your good hand and strategically hiding the other as you saw Draco at the end of the hallway.

“Draco,” You breathed, “What’re you doing out so late?”

“Prefect duties, it’s my turn to patrol tonight,” He said simply, “I could ask you the same thing, are you alright?”

A beat passed as you debated on what your answer should be.

“No, not really.” You replied weakly, knowing that he would see right past any form of lie or distraction you could create, eyes glancing at your bloodied hand.

He was quick to take notice too, “Who hurt you?” He said before rushed forward, gently cradling your injured hand in his.

“You can take a guess,” You muttered as his eyes scanned over the words etched onto the back of your hand.

“Oh darling,” He murmured, making his way into the alcove and gathering you up into his arms, “How did this happen? Why didn’t you tell me?”

You sighed into his chest, “You should’ve heard her! She was going on and on about how malicious and not right in the head she thought Harry was. I couldn’t just sit there and let her talk about him like that. You know that he’s telling the truth, he shouldn’t be singled out and punished for that! I called her out on it and she gave me detention the whole week.”

“What the hell were you thinking?” He asked more harshly than he intended and you felt like a toddler being scolded, “I told you that keeping your head down wouldn’t land you in situations like this.”

You knew he meant well and that he was just thinking of your happiness and safety, but with the rush of emotions running through you tonight, you didn’t want to be treated like a child. All you wanted was to be comforted and you had foolishly thought that Draco could give that to you.

“Oh sod off, Draco,” You huffed, pulling away from him and wincing as you lent on your injured hand, “I didn’t ask for a lecture, I’ve had my fill of that for today I would think.”

Tears had started to form in your eyes again as your frustration grew at your boyfriend. It had been a long night and this was not how you had seen it going when you spotted him down the hallway. You were about to move and make your way back to Gryffindor tower when you felt his hand softly grip your wrist.

“Hey, I’m sorry I snapped.” He said, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you back to his chest, “I just don’t like knowing that you got hurt when it could’ve been avoided.”

“I know,” You mumbled, still slightly put off at the boy whose arms enveloped you and whose scent was already calming you down.

Before you knew it, he was standing and sending you one of his trademark soft smiles that never failed to melt your heart.

“C’mon, you’re staying with me tonight.” He said, taking your uninjured hand in his and tugging slightly to get you to start moving.

“What if Umbridge catches us?” You asked, fear creeping in at the thought of more detentions being doled out to you. The thought of Draco having to go through it too made your stomach churn.

“She won’t.” He said confidently, “And if she does, I’m a prefect and she’s favors Slytherin anyway, I can tell her that I’m escorting you back to your dorm.”

The two of you walked silently hand-in-hand all the way to the slab of wall that indicated the Slytherin dorms. Draco gave you a large jumper to put on once you got to his dorm, as he went about getting ready for bed. The familiar scent of his cologne was enough to help you relax as you sank into the soft mattress and closed your eyes. Soon you felt the bed dip and Draco once again wrapped his arms around your waist.

A contented sigh escaped your lips as he peppered soft kisses along your neck and shoulder.

“I love you,” He mumbled against your shoulder, “You know that right?”

Turning to face him, you sent him a soft smile, “Yeah. I love you too.”

For a while, Draco was content leaning down and pecking your lips every so often. No words were spoken and none were needed as both of you basked in the presence of the other. After a while, your stomach grumbled as you hadn’t had much to eat before your detention with Umbridge. The nerves were too much for you to stomach anything substantial.

Draco shifted away slightly and asked, “Do you want me to go grab you something from the kitchens? I’m sure the house elves would be happy to whip something up for you.”

You only shuffled closer to him, letting his warmth wash over you, “I’m alright, I’d rather be with you anyway.”

He gave out a soft hum and pressed a kiss to your forehead, letting you know that he heard you. It wasn’t long until you drifted off to sleep in his arms.

#draco malfoy #draco malfoy imagines #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy fic #draco malfoy fics #draco malfoy x reader

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enjennie · 3 years

Text

Bottom’s Up

synopsis: the dreamies during a night of drinking somehow end up talking about their exes, revealing the different types of relationships and exes they have or had.

a/n: this has been long been in my drafts so Jisung was still a minor here, thus I didn’t give him any drinks lmao. Enjoy! btw, I’m still deciding if I should make Haechan’s backstory for this, or if the markHyuck one should do…

[10:37]

The boys have arrived, piling into Chenle’s condominium that was set up just to have their long awaited guys night. They planned this weeks prior, promising each other that after their finals they’d set aside time to drink away their thoughts and release any stress they have that built up.

By 10:50 bottles have been popped and cups have been poured, the boys sat in the balcony to feel the cool air of the city night.

“You guys really aren’t sharing?” Jisung watches as the older boys raise their glasses in celebration.

“You wait a few more months, sir,” Mark sets his glass down and pats the younger boy on the shoulder. Guy nights wouldn’t be complete without Jisung, even if he wasn’t allowed to drink yet. He never minded sitting in the living room, playing with Chenle’s console with Jaemin and then later on laughing at his older friends’ shenanigans once the alcohol hit them.

Renjun isn’t quite the drinker, but Haechan made him a bet and unfortunately, he lost. Being an art major wasn’t easy, he knew he had a few more things to finish before his semester ended but with that, Renjun drank to forget.

Besides his plates, he had nothing else to worry about. He’d been getting emails from companies waiting for him to graduate, a family happy to support him, but surprisingly, the boy lacked in the love department.

His previous relationships, only being flings and one night stands, none of them really ever stayed after the cuddles. Except… a particular someone.

On the opposite side of him sat Jeno, who was watching his friends in amusement. Now, Jeno has a high alcohol tolerance. Although he becomes chatty, and starts to excessively clean his surroundings, he takes care of his friends well. Usually he’s the one who tucks them into bed or prevents anything like drunk driving and some other stupid shit to happen.

Jeno the architectural major was the responsible friend in a night out. The single friend who starts playing the guitar to set the mood when 2am rolls in. And, the single friend with the broken heart, which hasn’t quite mended yet even after three years.

Haechan on the other hand, is a messy drunk but handles his alcohol well until the 2nd bottle. The boy has a lot going on in his mind, and was the first to initiate the plan to drink.

His phone rings, but Haechan dismisses it, tapping the red decline button and watching as the screen faded into black. Mark follows his eyes and hesitantly brings it up.

“Aren’t you going to talk to her?”

Haechan only shakes his head before taking another swig. Everyone knows well enough about Haechan and his girlfriend’s on and off relationship. They break up, make up, fight and the cycle repeats.

Mark’s adam’s apple bobs as he asks another question. “Why don’t you just break up? Y’know… for good?”

The boys around them seem to have noticed the tension that built up and had their eyes fixed on the pair.

“I don’t know, man,” Haechan is too drunk to think about Mark’s question. Too drunk to realize how Mark completely sold himself off to be in love with him with that one question. It wasn’t a big secret, especially since Mark has done a poor job in hiding it, but apparently not bad enough for Haechan to see. Everyone knew, except for the clueless boy.

Jaemin was too busy babysitting Chenle, who was having his first drink tonight, to even have shots of his own. He didn’t like drinking, anyway, and used Chenle as an excuse to keep sober.

Jaemin the medical student naturally tells his friends to lay off the alcohol, as it can damage their liver. He can only do so much though, as the others tend to be hard-headed and stubborn.

“I can handle myself!” Chenle protests, reaching for his glass which Jaemin took away. “You’re supposed to drink, eat a lot then drink again,” Jaemin explains. “You’ve only taken drinks so far, you’ll be knocked out in an hour if you keep this up,” He tells Chenle.

Of course, Jaemin knew his way around drinking. He just didn’t enjoy it, doesn’t like the bitter taste of it. Didn’t like how it made him think of his past either. Jaemin’s cup remains half full, and he uses this tactic to not get refills.

It keeps him away from his phone, sober enough to know better than to drunk text her. Even if her presence was all he yearned for at a night like this.

Jaemin x Reader – By My Side

[COMING SOON]

[12:03]

As the night gets deeper, so do the conversations between the close friends. Just like Jaemin predicted, Chenle had his head down on the table already, passed out.

“Jeno, you know what to do,” Jaemin nodded his head, signaling the boy beside him. Jeno gave him his smile, which now looked more drowsy and silly because of his tipsy state.

Jeno lifts Chenle easily, with Jaemin assisting him, leaving the three boys on the table.

“I want ____. Where is she?” Chenle had his eyes closed, mumbling to his friends. Jaemin and Jeno exchanged looks and laughed at the younger.

Poor boy, had a ton of expectations to meet he couldn’t even date around.

Chenle’s main priority had to be his family, and their business. He couldn’t afford any distractions, but to him, she was more than that. She was his driving force, and it hurt the boy to be keeping her a secret. Only the boys knew about his secret relationship, if word got out that Zhong Chenle the son of the most well-respected corporate business owner was dating, it would be the entirety of Shanghai talking about it.

As much as he wanted nothing more than to show the world and tell everyone who he’s in love with, he knew she wasn’t ready to face it all and step into that kind of light yet.

Chenle x Reader – In The Limelight

While the two boys took Chenle into his room, it left the three boys and Haechan’s buzzing phone out in the cold night air that the terrace provided.

“What happened this time?” Renjun asks, in line with the phone that’s close to annoying the hell out of him if it doesn’t stop vibrating the entire table. Haechan had his head down, and he lets out a laugh. Humorless, just cold.

“I don’t get her. She wants me, then the next second she doesn’t,”

When the boy lifts his head, it’s made obvious of all the pain he’s been hiding. His eyes, teary and sullen. Renjun couldn’t help but laugh at his friend’s face, clapping his hands and throwing his head back in laughter. “Aw, c’mon man! It’s only 12am,”

This, however, doesn’t humor Mark the same way. Seeing Haechan in pain was like a bullet through his heart. He gave the boy a pat on the back and watches as his head fall once again. Mark swears he saw a tear fall too.

“I’m not just an object you can set aside, then use when needed,” Haechan continues to wail. Although he was already drunk, Mark felt that Haechan’s words were the most sober when he wasn’t.

As for Mark, the literature major didn’t care much about alcohol. However, it did get his creative juices flowing. Most of Mark’s best written pieces were done when he couldn’t even remember writing them.

During blurry nights intoxicated in alcohol, Mark’s thoughts flow easily through him and onto the sheets of paper that lie around his room. Sometimes, he’ll drink on a school night to get an essay finished for it’s due date the next day.

But seeing as he had no pending things to write, Mark drank for the sake of trying to numb himself somehow. Although it didn’t work well when the person he’s trying to get his mind off of is sat right beside him, thinking of someone else.

Mark x Haechan – Always, I’ll Care

[COMING SOON]

[1:13 am]

When Jaemin and Jeno came back, Jeno was already carrying a guitar. He strums it softly to a random tune he came up with on the spot. Haechan, of course, was singing along. Throwing in words like ‘baby’ and murmuring a few words about love. By now, Renjun’s cheeks were pink and a few hiccups had already escaped him.

“Do you remember that girl Jeno dated second semester of senior year?” he says, out of the blue.

The boys need not ask who, as they all knew who Renjun was referring to. The group of boys burst into fits of laughter and the guitar takes an abrupt stop as its player shoots his friends a nasty look for bringing up his past unprovoked.

“You were smitten, bro,” Mark smacks Jeno’s shoulder as he giggles.

Jeno daggers his eyes to Renjun, who has his head thrown back, laughing.

“How about you, huh? What was her name? _____-“ Jeno begins his avengement by mentioning the name he knew would get back at Renjun. He gets cut off shortly.

“I’ll stop you right there, sir,” Renjun places a hand over Jeno’s mouth before he could speak the name.

“C’mon, how many years has that been though?” Jeno asks after getting the boy’s hand off of his mouth.

“Two, and what about it?” Renjun defensively counters, surprising the other boys.

“He knows! Wow, do you keep count?” Jaemin chuckles, amusement all over his face.

“Shut up, ____ ,” Renjun points a finger at the male, mentioning the name of Jaemin’s past lover. Jaemin’s jaw drops and he crosses his arms,

“That was low,” The corner of his lips tugged into a smile nonetheless.

“C’mon, guys. It’s not like we’re releasing bad omens talking about our exes,” Haechan tugs on Renjun to sit him back down.

“Easy for you to say, you’ve only had one ex and she’s your girlfriend,” Renjun huffs. No one dared to speak the name of Renjun’s ex around him aside from people who have balls like Jeno, Jaemin, Haechan and Mark.

It wasn’t because he was bitter about her. But try as he might, there was a feeling within him that says she’s the one. Or she was. And Renjun was stuck, thinking about all the what if’s. Even after 2 years.

Renjun x Reader – To Be So Lonely [COMING SOON]

“I see things are getting heated over here,” Jisung stood by the door to the balcony now, with a sly smirk on his face.

“Ah right, let’s talk about mister lover boy over here,” Jeno motioned to the younger boy, who surprisingly is the only one to have a love life at the moment.

Jisung was courting the student body president. He could not, however, get her to answer him, but the boy never gives up.

“You must have some balls to hit on your senior,” Jaemin comments. The student body president was in fact two years older than Jisung, but the boy was determined.

Jisung x Reader – Like A Fool

[COMING SOON]

“At least one of us is progressing in terms of love,” Renjun sighed.

“Jeno’s doing well though, isn’t he? Lots of girls always after him,” Jisung gestures to the male beside him who’d started playing the guitar once again.

“I don’t think that counts as doing well,” Jeno mutters, absentmindedly.

“Oh yeah? And how does having half the school pine over you not count as doing well?” Jaemin lightly nudges his friend.

“Because the one I love, is in someone else’s arms right now,”

And cue the exaggerated crying and wailing of his friends, who’d given him sympathetic pats on the back.

Jeno x Reader – We Find Love

[COMING SOON]

“Oh, man,” grumbled Haechan, clearly already very intoxicated. He placed his head between his hands to try and stop his world from spinning. “I got to go to her, I have to say sorry,”

The boys all averted their eyes to the boy who looks to be having his spiritual awakening.

Mark’s heart dropped upon hearing Haechan’s words. He looked down at his hands and sighed. It wouldn’t be the first time Haechan had a sudden realization and wanted to be in his girlfriend’s arms right then and there.

It usually happened when he was smashed drunk, after the 7th or 8th cup. Asking his mates to take him home and running into the arms of his girl.

Mark didn’t know why he wasn’t used to it at this point. It isn’t and never will be him.

“No way,” Jaemin tutted. “You gathered us all here to drink and bothered us for weeks then you’ll flake midway? I don’t think so,” The other boys agreed.

Renjun stretched his arms and fell back onto the chair he sat on. “What’s with the sudden change of atmosphere anyway? It’s like we did release bad omens when we spoke about our exes,”

“You just had to bring ____ up!” Jeno threw a fry at his friend, who was the first to mention his ex and start the discussion. Renjun caught the fry in his mouth, surprising the boys and himself.

“Let’s just drink up,” Renjun raises his glass in the air, although it’s half empty.

“Nice try, here have a refill. We’re all taking equal shots,” Mark had risen and was now reaching for the bottle of beer to pour his friend’s glass.

“To… I don’t know- fuck! To getting fucked up!” Haechan yelled, raising his glass in the air.

The rest of the boys do the same, clinking glasses together and downing it mercilessly to their livers.

Relationships come and go, but the dreamies are always here to stay.

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narrators-journal · 3 years

Text

Welcome home

I hope this sequelette was enjoyable! It was a lot of fun to write, even if it was kinda difficult.

Previous part: here

first part: here

The rest of the night was a blur. In the chaos of Illumi confronting you, you had been too scatter-brained from fear to inform him that you were having 'practice contractions', and you definitely weren't in any sort of mindset to tell him you might be near labor, however, the stoic assassin always had a plan for things, and had accounted for you potentially going into early labor at any point. So, after your declaration, he picked you up and rushed you over to the van he had waiting. In your distressed state, everything whizzed by after that. You were vaguely aware of what the Zoldyck family doctor told you to do, but aside from when you were moved from the van to a secondary location, you couldn't seem to focus at all under the maelstrom of panic and pain. Time, your situation, all forms of possible consequence, none of it mattered anymore as you clung to your fiance-to-be's hand and followed every order the doctor gave. At some point though, you must've passed out from the pain, because in what felt like the blink of an eye, you were waking up.

Slowly, you blinked the world back into focus, your head slowly beginning to stop swimming from pain and hysteria, allowing you to gradually realize that you were laying in a hospital bed in some random, dark room that you didn't recognize. Was I out so long that I'm already back at the estate? You asked yourself, lifting your head a bit to try and discern exactly where you were through the hazy, groggy feeling clouding your mind. Upon closer inspection of your surroundings, you weren't in Illumi's family home. From what you could see by the dim light of the lamp in the corner, the room was too small and the furniture was too cheap, so you must be in some random, hopefully, abandoned home. "Where...am I." you croaked, though you weren't realy expecting an answer, so it startled you to hear Illumi respond. "You were nearly eight months pregnant, so I made sure there was a safe, private place for you to possibly give birth before I went to collect you. Good thing I did, I'd have hated for you to be forced to have our son in that van." he mused from his seat in the arm chair next to the corner lamp, and when you looked over at him, your brain zeroed in on the little bundle he held instead of focusing on the danger or the dread you could feel creeping across your skin, both of which were dampened by the powerful, and sudden, urge to hold your baby. It was a shockingly powerful burst of feeling, but some part of you desperately wanted to hold your infant child. It was only when you moved your arms to reach out for your child that you registered the soft clatter of the cuff on your wrist, securing you to the metal sides of the bed, and for a moment, that somewhat reminded you that something wasn't quite right here. However, that thought was near-instantly swept away by your spacey, baby-focused thoughts. "Wha...why am I handcuffed??" Both the thought and your words came out as more disappointed than startled, like they probably should've sounded, since you were still rather out of it, but then the memories of your entire predicament set in at long last. It finally began to set in that you'd been caught by the assassin who'd snatched you up, the one who'd been the center of your paranoia for the past few months. Just as you were about to panic though, Illumi grabbed your chin and made you look into his hypnotic eyes, "Can you please just calm down?" he asked, slightly annoyed, but he still had an authoritative edge that washed away the majority of your anxieties for the time being before he released your face and gave over your baby to let you hold the little bundle of blue while he slept with barely a whine at being jostled. You stared at him for a moment as your partner's powers ebbed, just letting it soak in that this was your baby. "You were out for at least a full day, so I had the doctor look him over and fed him from a bottle, but it would be best if you breastfed. He'll be healthier that way." Illumi hummed, the annoyance from before gone from his words, though his voice still snapped you out of your motherly trance as he brought the armchair over to your bed and sat beside you. When he did, you looked over at him to try and glean any possible foreshadowing of your expected punishment, but, instead, for this small moment, with that soft, happy expression on his face and the way he just laid his head on his arm against the metal sides of your bed to watch your son sleep in your arms, you found that you could almost believe that he hadn't likely broken into your home, stalked you, and kidnapped you. Then the moment was broken and things got a bit awkward when you realized he was looking back into your (e/c) eyes with his own dark ones, though this time his gaze lacked that trance-enducing power he'd put behind it before, and you'd been staring at him. "Is something wrong?" He asked quietly, blinking slowly as if you were a cat he was trying to win the trust of. You just shook your head in response, "I just...I don't know how to feel right now," you confessed, looking back at the infant in your arms and tightening your hold on him a bit while his father sighed, "I'd expect you to be happy," he hummed, "and I want to let you be happy and bask in the joy of our child being born and healthy, but..." he pushed himself into a proper sitting position and his voice returned to it's usual cold temperature as he continued, "You very much need to be talked to about your behavior before that." And with that, your stomach dropped. You could almost feel that other shoe finally drop with his words as the anchor, pushing the excitement to the backburner. Instead of remaining in that slightly dopey, tired moment of joy, you switched to a far more protective, guarded mode and gave him a cautious, dirty look as a result while holding your child closer to yourself. "You shouldn't have run away like that. If you had stayed at home, like I'd wanted you to, you wouldn't have had to put our child at risk by working as a maid like you did." he scolded, and your blood ran cold at the mention of your job, "W-wait, how long have you known where I was?? Did...did you hurt anyone I've worked for?" you asked, and amidst your fearful worries over your helpful boss you found a sense of hostility you'd never used against him, "I knew where you were after about a week, and not to worry, I didn't hurt the woman who helped you. You can thank mother for the fact you weren't brought back while I was in such a foul mood." he replied curtly, and while you could tell he was curbing his own hostility, you somehow felt more anger than fear at it, "She talked me out of bringing you back, and father advised against bringing you back until you were almost through with your pregnancy as to lower the distress you'd go through. If it were up to me alone, I wouldn't have needed to plan for any premature labors, you'd be pissed and upset, but safe and healthy at home." he continued, "As if staying somewhere I felt like a fucking prisoner would've made my pregnancy last longer?! Are you forgetting how scary and deranged you became when I told you I was pregnant?? How about when you kidnapped me?" "I didn't kidnap you, I moved you home so you would be in less danger, unless you would've preferred Hisoka return?" he snapped, but you didn't back down just yet, "You're just glazing over the fact that I didn't want any of this! I didn't want to be scooped up and taken to some fancy ass prison, or rushed into marriage just because I was having a baby!" You snapped back, feeling a mix of angry, scared, and generally just upset tears fill your eyes as you glared at Illumi. The only thing that forced you to stop was when the child nestled against you squirmed and began to fuss. For a long moment, you didn't look at the assassin beside your hospital bed, and neither of you spoke while the infant fell back asleep. When Illumi did finally speak, he wasn't cold, or angry, he just sounded upset. "I'm...so confused." he sighed, running a pale hand through his dark hair, "I don't know what else I was supposed to do, leave you there? In a plain house with no guards and not be there for my kid?" he asked, looking to you to explain things. So, with a sniffle and a sigh, you tried your best to help the emotionally stunted man. "Look. I'm not going to hold it against you that you insisted on getting married, but you scared me really badly when you reacted the way you did when I suggested other things. Do you realize how terrifying you are? Because you don't seem to." you pointed out, and he just listened, "That's my biggest issue. You saved me from likely running into that other man again, but you also became a threat of your own. How can I just accept the fact that you moved me to a place that i can't escape from? That, plus how aggressive you became, I fear you're going to hurt me, so I don't want to go back." You explained, returning to not looking at him as you spoke. After a long period of silence, he sighed, finally speaking again, "Well...I can't go back and fix the way I reacted and scared you." he said, and it was likely the best you'd get apology-wise, "and I can't let you off for running away and scaring me like you did. Don't give me that look, I'm an assassin, not a monster." He gave you a dirty look when you gave a tiny laugh at that last part, but you did stop eyeing him in disbelief, so he went on, "What I can do, is adjust the punishment to not be as scary. However, that comes with a condition." when he finished, you once again briefly tightened your grip on your son. "I'm not giving up my baby." you said firmly, and Illumi only snorted, "No, but you will be going through each birth without pain medication." He said darkly, and your eyes widened before you grimaced a bit, knowing exactly who to thank for that 'compromise'. "It was either that, or my punishment, which was to break your legs." he offered, laughing a bit when you swiftly accepted the first option. After that, Illumi seemed to relax again, laying his head back on his arm against your bed's railing and just watching your son sleep. You however, had to wait for your heart to slow down and your panic to subside before you could ask another question, "so...if painful births are my punishment for this...what's the condition?" Illumi's eyes moved to look at you, but he didn't lift his head as he coolly told you, "On the condition that you treat me like you did before the pregnancy," You thought a bit at that proposition, than nodded, "Alright. A-as long as you don't become abusive or scare me like you did, I can do that." at that he hummed again, finally moving to give your cheek a kiss, than he spoke again. "Also, if you ever run away, or do anything to put our children or yourself at risk," his voice suddenly became dark, "I get to break. Every. unnecessary. bone. in. your. body." It was a cruel hiss of a threat that sent a tsunami of dread down your spine, but after a moment of weighing your options, really debating whether you could survive in a world with him hunting you down, you nodded. As long as you didn't do anything to warrant that, you'd be okay. However, you did have one final question eating at you. "Um...what'll-what'll happen to our son?" your voice was quiet, and you quietly plead for Illumi not to confirm your worst fear, but he only gave you a knowing look, "You know what will happen, not even I can stop my family from training him to follow my footsteps, but, I can make you a similar promise to the one father made to mother." he offered, resting his cheek on top of your head affectionately while laying his hand over yours on your son. "If you let the first one become an assassin, the others won't have to be." With that, you swallowed back your regret, and agreed.

#illumi x reader #sequel #x reader #hxh #hunter x hunter #sequelette #outrunning karma #fanfiction #quotev

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tiffdawg · 4 years

Text

The Light of Stars | Chapter Eleven: Disillusionment

Gif: @bestintheparsec

The Light of Stars

Pairing: Din Djarin/ The Mandalorian x Reader (fem; no y/n)

Word Count: 5.5k

Rating: M | Warnings: the typical angst and a little smooching, mild language. No spoilers for season two!

Story Summary: In pursuit of the Child’s people, the mysterious Jedi, Din Djarin and his foundling find hope in a woman who shares the kid’s strange powers. Newly partnered with the Mandalorian, you are trained in the ways of the Force, but you’re no Jedi. You’re just trying to find your place in the galaxy.

A/N: Hi! It's been a while – much longer than I ever intended and for that I apologize. I want to say thank you to you all for reading my story and sticking with me. And to everyone who left comments on previous chapters, you have all my love for ever. I really do cherish each and everyone. You all inspire me to keep writing! Anyway, I'll stop rambling and let you read the latest installment of Jetii, Din, and Baby's (mis)adventures. This chapter is officially the beginning of the end!

Read on AO3

TLOS Masterlist | My Masterlist

… . …

Chapter Eleven: Disillusionment

The last few days were a blur as you cut across the galaxy at lightspeed. Time ceased to exist even as it passed you by, but it was uneventful in the best possible way as you spent what precious time you had left with the Mandalorian and his foundling quietly existing together.

You passed most of your time in the main cabin conversing with Mando. You always talked about your pasts. Never the future. But you considered yourself lucky to have that time with him. He spoke mostly of his youth with the Mandalorians and his early forays into bounty hunting, but occasionally he’d grace you with a story from his childhood. When he’d confessed that he hadn’t so much as said his parents' names aloud in decades but still found it within himself to share a treasured memory of them, you’d reached across the small space separating you to twine your fingers with his gloved ones as best you could. The words seemed to come a little easier after that. His life had been so full of sadness that you wondered if the last few weeks together had been an anomaly even with the chaos you’d brought into his life.

Down in the hull after tasteless meals of reconstituted food, you’d spent long hours reading texts from the Jedi holocron aloud to Mando while he disassembled, cleaned, and reassembled every blaster in his weapons locker twice-over. Other times he insisted on continuing your flying lessons but there wasn’t much to do as the ship sailed through hyperspace. During the infrequent fuel stops on lonely planets, you’d stretch your legs and find a quiet place to practice with the kid in consolation for long days spent trapped inside the ship.

That day, you’d landed on Mygeeto, a cold, frigid planet a few sectors from your final destination. Mando and the kid seemed unfazed by the icy winds, but you’d had to dig out your old parka just to walk to the closet cantina while the ship refueled. It was also a decently populated planet, big on mining and banking and a hub of trade. You were on the outskirts of a smaller spaceport, but it wasn’t somewhere you wanted to linger.

The docking bay was crowded with a steady rush of people coming and going earlier that morning. Now, when you stepped into the small, outdated docking bay ahead of the Mandalorian but behind the Child’s hovering carrier, it was deserted. Instantly, your eyes went to the fueling gear still hooked up to the Razor Crest. A quick glance around the bay told you the lone mechanic was nowhere to be seen. Most likely off working on one of the other starships. That meant the three of you were stuck on that icy, crystalline planet for at least a little while longer.

That meant trouble.

“Mando–”

“I know,” he sighed. “I made them back at the cantina. They aren’t with the guild, but they’re definitely hunters.”

“Were you just hoping they wouldn’t follow us back to the ship?”

“I wanted to get you two back to the Crest.” He entered a code on his vambrace and canceled the ship’s security protocols. After the ramp lowered, he closed the baby’s carrier and sent it into the hull of the ship.

“There are six of them,” you said, raising a brow at him, “and they’re right behind us.”

“Not a problem, sweetheart.” He placed a hand on the blaster holstered at his hip.

“Gods, you're cocky sometimes,” you retorted. Still, you extracted your lightsaber from your satchel before tossing the bag into the ship. It pained you to think that neither the baby nor Mando would be safe until that ex-Imp was taken care of for good. And even then, you worried about who else might know about the baby. You could only wish that wasn’t fated to be their only existence together. With his visor trained on you, his helmet tilted to the side. You shrugged as you took your place beside him.

“Don’t think I can handle it on my own?”

“I know you could, but you don’t have to,” you assured him. You glanced at him out of the corner of your eyes and found him watching you.

“I–”

Whatever he was going to say next was cut off by a noise coming from just beyond the entrance. Both of your heads snapped in that direction, alert and ready for a fight.

When the first blaster shot rang out, Mando returned it with one of his own.

“How many of them are there?” you shouted over the blast that rocked the Razor Crest. You’d mistakenly assumed you’d escaped after you’d fended off the six bounty hunters at the docking bay. The gunship fired back at Mando’s command.

“Down to two,” he answered as he hit a series of switches in rapid fire. He pulled the yoke and the ship took a nosedive through empty space. “Told you that spaceport was too big.”

“You didn’t say that.”

“I thought it.

Another hit set off one of the alarms. “Mando!”

“We’re almost to the hyperlane. Once we hit lightspeed, they can’t track us. Just hold on!”

You sighed in relief at the familiar streaks of blue light of hyperspace. Mando’s seat swiveled to face you and the Child. “You alright?” he asked the kid. He chirped happily in response. “I figured.” He turned to you, elbows resting on his knees as he leaned forward in his chair. “How about you?”

“I’m fine,” you assured him. You might’ve been a little rattled, but you’d seen worse. “We’re those the Moff’s men? How’d they track us to Mygeeto?”

“They didn’t.” A beat passed as you waited for him to explain. “They were already here. They’re amateurs. Gideon probably distributed fobs throughout the galaxy.”

While you’d gotten a decent glimpse of it on Vrogas Vas, you were beginning to see the severity of his situation. The Empire might’ve fallen years ago, but this former Imp had not. He had the resources and the reach to find the Mandalorian and the Child. And you didn’t like the thought of him taking on the Moff alone. “Mando, can you do something for me?”

“Anything,” he responded quickly.

You hesitated, doubting he would think that in a moment. “Will you send a holo to your tribe before you leave for Nevarro.” He straightened up at that, ready to protest. “You’re going to need all of the help you can get.”

“I can’t ask them to put the covert at risk for me. Not again.”

“So you know they would come for you?”

“Yes,” he answered, voice straining around the word.

“Do you think they hold what happened against you? Do you truly believe that any one of them regrets their choice?” He didn’t say anything, but you knew your assumption was right. And you knew his guilt was misplaced. They wouldn’t have welcomed him back, called him their brother, if that was the case. “You have to forgive yourself, Mando.” You unbuckled your safety restraints and kneeled before him. With a hand on the either curved cheek of his helmet, you forced him to look at you. You leveled him with a serious look, but he was unflinching, as still as ever. “Do you want to know what I think?”

“What?”

“They’re Mandalorians. They would want to fight with you. For you. How do you not see that?”

Wrapping his hands around your wrists, he pulled your hands away from his helmet. “I can’t do that for you.”

“Can’t or won’t?” you snapped before you stood and left the cabin.

… . …

Drawing his eyes away from the streaks of light bending around the Razor Crest, Din found you still in your seat next to him and the Child carefully cradled to your chest. With matching expressions – eyes closed and lips slightly parted – you both slept peacefully. Din had half a mind to wake you and send you both to your room. Even that makeshift bunk had to be more comfortable than the contorted position you’d maneuvered yourself into in your chair. But as the baby moved in your grasp to snuggle further into you, tiny clawed hands gripping the front of your tunic even as he drooled on it, he hesitated to disturb the scene before him.

Somehow, in the span of a few weeks, Din’s entire universe had narrowed to the two of you. His foundling, of course, was already his primary focus in life. And then you showed up and without even meaning to, the three of you had become a family.

Din had a family.

The realization struck him hard and fast, but quickly faded into something familiar. Something some part of him already knew because of course you were his family.

A soft smile pulled at the corner of Din’s mouth as the two of you dozed, bathed in blue starlight, until he realized that he wasn’t the only one who was going to miss you. The kid had grown fond of you, to say the absolute least. When he wasn’t toddling after Din or causing trouble, he was attached to your hip. But your days together were numbered.

He didn’t have time to dwell on that reality. He was suddenly pulled from deep within his own mind by the quiet beep of an incoming holo. With the flick of a single switch, Greef Karga’s figure, in miniature and cast in static blue light, appeared on the console.

Karga’s booming voice filled the silent cabin. “I’ve been trying to reach you for days, Mando.”

“I’ve been out of range.”

“While I’m sure your new quest has taken you to the furthest reaches of this galaxy, there are more pressing matters at hand here on Nevarro. Would you care to tell me why Moff Gideon, the man you supposedly killed, is amassing stormtroopers outside my city?” he asked pointedly. “Word is he’s looking for you.”

“I’m aware,” Din sighed. “I’ll be there in a few days. I have something I need to take care of first.”

“Something or someone?” Karga mused lowly with a deep chuckle. Din followed his line of sight. Next to him, you’d woken and leaned forward in your seat just enough for the holocam to pick up your image. You watched the guild leader with interest. “Who might this stunning creature be?”

“End of the week,” Din said curtly before switching off the holo.

“Who was that?” you asked. You spoke softly, mindful of the baby in your hold. Your tired gaze lingered on the spot where Karga’s figure stood a moment ago before drifting to Din.

“No one.”

“Right,” you said with a gentle roll of your eyes. “I heard you mention Nevarro.”

“He’s an old associate.”

“A friend?” you supplied, brows lifting with the question.

“Sometimes.”

“Well, I imagine that means something coming from you.” There was a glint of humor in your eyes but faded into something more serious as you leveled him with a stern look. “Are you sure we shouldn’t go there first?” you asked, not for the first time. “You know I’m good in a fight.”

A small huff of a laugh escaped him. You could hold your own, of that he had no doubt. And the thought of having you with him for a few extra days was nothing short of tempting. Still, something told him that was how things were meant to happen. That was the original deal the two of you struck up, after all, and the course was already set. The Crest was less than a day out from the Lah’mu sector. It would be easier on his own heart to stick to it. Surprisingly, your argument from the day before had faded into the background. He’d come to expect more of a fight from you, but you’d rejoined him in the cockpit that morning as if nothing had happened.

He decided it was best not to prompt another argument. He stood and held out a hand to you. “It’s been a long day. You should go to bed.”

You placed your hand in his and let him pull you to your feet before you gently handed the still-sleeping baby to him. “You should too.”

The kid didn’t so much as stir as Din placed him in his makeshift hammock above his cot. He started to remove his armor, stowing the Beskar for a few hours of much needed reprieve. Lost deep in his own tired mind, he didn’t hear you emerge from the ship’s small refresher.

“What’s that?”

“What?”

“That.” He glanced over his shoulder at you just in time to see you gesturing toward the compartment.

“Exactly what it looks like.” That time he heard you move closer to him as you peered around his form.

“You’ve been sleeping here?” you asked incredulously. “I thought there was another bunkroom.”

“No,” Din answered flatly. He couldn’t see why that was an issue – especially at the late hour but the scowl on your face as you moved between him and the compartment told him that you expected a better explanation. “Technically there aren’t any bunkrooms on the Crest. Yours was extra carbonite storage for backlog. I converted it recently because the kid kept trying to crawl in here with me and there’s not exactly enough space for two. I wasn’t taking on any quarries so I figured it would work temporarily.”

“And you gave it to me?”

“Yes.”

“Why would you do that?”

“It’s nothing,” he said, hoping to brush it off.

“Mando,” you sighed, sounding stuck somewhere between exasperation and gratitude. You pursed your lips as you looked back at the cot. “This the sorriest excuse for a bed I’ve ever seen. I’m not letting you sleep here.”

“Where would you have me sleep?” he asked, not bothering to hide the amusement in his voice.

“In your bed,” you replied, crossing your arms over your chest. You could be so stubborn when you wanted. Almost as stubborn as him.

“And you?” he asked.

“I’ll be there too.” There was a hint of a mischievous smile playing on your lips.

“Last time–”

Your voice dropped to a whisper, but it was enough to make him forget the rest of his sentence. “I miss having you in my bed.”

A chill shot down his spine and settled low inside him as he watched you scale the ladder that led to your room and left him to follow. Just before you disappeared, you threw a playful insult back at him. “Di’kut.”

His chest deflated as a deep sigh fell from his lips. “Let me guess who taught you that,” he called after you, rolling his eyes at your receding figure. He sealed the small compartment and followed you up.

“You had your chance to teach me nice things in Mando’a,” you retorted. “Now I can insult you seven ways to Scarif!”

“Great,” he muttered with a light laugh.

“To be fair,” you offered when he finally walked into your small bunkroom, “Paz called me an idiot too.”

Din froze at the threshold as a cold fear rushed over him. “He told you his name?” he hissed.

“Yeah.” You said it almost lightly, but Din heard the slight edge undercutting your words. He knew you understood the significance of the act. He could see it in the way you teased your bottom lip between your teeth. “I didn’t ask. He just told me. He said it was okay,” you tried to clarify. “It’s not like I expect you–”

“Do you want to know?” he replied quickly despite not knowing if he was prepared to give it if you said yes. While there were a few select people who knew his name now, he had never shared it with anyone himself. If Vizsla could share his name with someone outside the covert, then so could he. Right?

“Of course I do. I want to know all of you,” you started slowly. You stepped closer to him, gently resting your hands on his last piece of armor. Your eyes followed the path of your fingers as you traced the mended edge of his cuirass. “But I only want what pieces of yourself you want to share with me. I would never ask.”

“I know you wouldn’t. You never ask for anything.”

“I asked you to come to bed with me,” you teased, trying to divert the conversation.

“No. You told me.” You smiled almost shyly and made to move away, but Din reached for your hands and held you in place. “Ask me for something. I’ll give it to you.” You eyed him for a long moment as you considered his request. He could see the thoughts racing in your mind. “Ask me for anything,” he repeated.

“Anything?”

“Yes.”

“I want you to promise me something.”

“A promise?” His brows furrowed behind the visor.

“Do you remember our last conversation that morning at the covert? Because I haven’t forgotten it.” Neither had Din. He nodded once and you squeezed his hands. “No matter what answers we find on Lah’mu, no matter where your journey takes you and your son next, no matter how many years or decades it’s been since we parted,” you took a deep breath as your voice wavered, “I want you to promise me that you will pursue a life that makes you happy. The both of you. Whatever that may be.”

Din had no response to that. He’d given you permission to ask him for anything and for some godsforsaken reason you asked for his happiness. He was struck, hardly for the first time, by just how much good there was in you. That you could possibly care about him that way even amidst your own turmoil. He would’ve preferred you ask him to call his tribe members for help. “Sweetheart–” he tried to admonish.

“Promise me, you stubborn Mandalorian,” you demanded with a new fire in your eyes. “You said you would give me anything. That’s what I want. If I can’t— If I can’t be there with you, I at least want to know in my heart that wherever you are, you are happy.” When he didn’t say anything, you pleaded. “Please, Mando.”

Lifting a hand to the back of your head, he drew you closer to him and gently pressed his helmet to your forehead, kissing you in the only way he could in that moment. “I promise,” Din swore even though that didn’t change the fact that there was only one way he ended up happy.

“Thank you,” you sighed as if he’d given you something you needed. Without parting, your fingers dipped beneath the edge of his cuirass. “May I?” He nodded against you and you pulled just enough to deactivate the magnetic hold. Others had tried to take his armor off in the past, usually by force, but with you it felt like a barrier. Something keeping him from what he really wanted.

As Din laid in the too-small bunk with you, your words echoed in his mind. If I can’t be there with you, I at least want to know in my heart that wherever you are, you are happy. With every quiet moment that passed, each one somehow longer than the next, he seemed to move closer to you, and you to him, until you met somewhere in the middle. His forehead knocked against yours again and as your breath ghosted across his face, he fought his overwhelming desire to kiss you. Really kiss you. To show you just how much your care for him affected him. But he remembered what happened the last time you’d tried something like that. It ended with you crying into his chest as he held you through the long night.

He asked anyway. “Can I kiss you?” he rasped.

“I thought you just did, Mandalorian,” you teased.

He rolled you over onto your back, caging you in as he leaned on his elbows to hover above you. “You’re going to be the death of me,” he rasped.

Before you could offer some smart retort, he slotted his mouth over yours. Despite his eagerness, he felt clumsy and unpracticed. Considering he’d never kissed anyone before you, he absolutely was. You were the only one he’d ever wanted like this. Based on the breathy little noises you made for him, you didn’t seem to mind his inexperience.

He pressed the weight of his body into yours, pinning you beneath him, until there was no space between you. You were molded to him and him to you in a way that felt natural. It felt right. He was growing accustomed to it even as he knew he shouldn’t. But those moments with you, unmasked and exposed, were too enticing.

Din never said he was a good man.

… . …

In the light of an early morning, you ran through an open field surrounded by a forest of tall evergreens. Soft wild grass cushioned each stride as you sprinted toward the tree line, chasing the fresh, spicy scent. Behind you, someone pursued you at full speed.

No. That wasn’t right.

You glanced over your shoulder only to find not one but two young children sprinting after you, squealing and smiling. Your heart practically burst at the sight of their unbridled joy and a laugh of your own bubbled past your lips. You slowed your pace, giving in to them easily, and two sets of arms wrapped around your legs. You knelt in the dewy grass, rewarding them with snug hugs and kisses on their chubby cheeks, and earning yourself another jubilant round of laughter from them both.

Together, they begged you to chase them next, and unable to deny them anything, you readily agreed. You stood, shooing them off to get a head start. But they wouldn’t run away just yet. Not when they were too distracted by something behind you. Another pair of arms, only much stronger, wrapped around you.

The kids ran off, shouting catch us, dad! A low rumble reverberated through your back as the man behind you laughed at the children’s wild antics. Your eyes fell closed as you leaned into him, deciding you’d follow the children in a moment. Right then all you wanted was to savor his embrace. It felt like the closest thing to home you’d ever known.

You turned your head as if to look over your shoulder and a pair of lips met yours. Even after the kiss ended, you didn’t part. The feel of his smile hovering against your lips was almost as intoxicating as his kiss.

“Good morning, Din,” you sighed.

You startled awake with a sharp inhale.

Disoriented and scared, you tried to make sense of what you’d just seen. That dream felt real. Too real. Considering the turn your life had taken in the past few weeks, you had no idea what it was. A remnant of your vision. An offering from the Force. Or just your imagination playing tricks on you. It seems like the closer you get to Lah’mu, the more the Force saw fit to taunt you with that other future.

Your eyes searched the pitch-black room for some sort of sign as to where you were, but you couldn’t see anything. Instead, you felt an arm around your waist, holding you securely.

Mando’s arm.

You were still on the Razor Crest, tucked away in your shared bunk that was too small for the both of you, and he was fast asleep behind you, warm and solid. You felt him shift behind you, lifting his head from his pillow to look down at you in the dark.

“Are you okay?” he asked hoarsely. Even in sleep that man missed nothing. Mando’s hold on you tightened, pulling you back against his chest.

“Yeah,” you assured him. “Just a dream.”

“Another nightmare?”

“No. Not quite. Just...” You screwed your eyes shut and tried to banish the lingering images, or rather sensations, of that other man from your mind. Mando’s voice cut through your daze as he called your name, drawing you back into the present. “Just strange. It almost felt like another vision.”

“Of your future on Lah’mu?”

“I don’t think so.”

Din shifted closer. “Your other future?”

“Yes,” you offered meekly.

“What do you dream of? With him?” The question hurt and you said nothing for a long time. The more time you spent with Mando and the baby, the more certain you were that you’d made the right choice. A life on Lah’mu as a lonely Jedi master was more appealing than a future with a stranger you could never love. Not when your heart belonged to the man lying next to you. Seeing him amongst his people had only reinforced your conclusion that Mando was not the man in your vision. It was not the way. His way. But you supposed that didn’t matter and you were only making yourself upset for no reason by reminding yourself of the fact. You’d chosen your path. “You can tell me,” he prompted again.

You shook your head and craned your neck to face him even though he couldn’t see you. You were so close your noses brushed, but he made no move to part. “No, I don’t think I can.”

A tension hung between you as you waited for his response. “The offer stands,” he finally replied.

“And I appreciate that.” But all you really wanted was to put that dream out of your mind and forget about it entirely. The man next to you provided the perfect distraction.

You closed that last bit of space between you, letting your mouths meet in a slow, lingering kiss. His soft, slightly chapped lips matched with yours with aching tenderness. Just like that, with him, you felt safe from all the uncertainties your future held. You decided you could indulge in it just a little while longer. Continue what he’d started the night before.

“Good morning, Mando,” you sighed around a lazy smile when you finally parted.

“Good morning, cyar’ika.”

He sounded happier, and your grin pulled taut and you turned in his arms. Holding his face with your hands, your lips melded with his again. He didn’t start at your touch anymore. He sought it out. With a hand gripping your hip, he pressed you closer.

“I could stay right here,” you murmured your confession against his lips in between hungry kisses, “forever.”

“Fuck, so could I,” he admitted. You slipped your tongue into his mouth as his lips parted around his words, earning a broken, desperate moan from him.

He let you roll him into his back, and you moved so that you were on top of him, a knee pressing into the thin mattress on either side of him. Your hungry mouths slotted together once more.

You longed to feel his skin against yours again and as his hands slid lower, you thought he was going to free you from your tunic. But then his hands traveled further, past the hemline, over your hips and just kept going until he squeezed the swell of your backside, fingers digging into your fabric covered flesh, and ground your hips down against him. Against something hard.

“Oh fuck,” you gasped into his mouth. He chuckled darkly against your cheek as he did it again. That had no right to feel that good. You’d had your suspicions, but knowing he wanted you like that was a whole new thrill. “Eager this morning?” you asked as you searched for breath.

“You started it,” he said low and teasing while nipping at your bottom lip.

“Let me kiss you while I can.” He stilled his movements beneath you. You’d meant it as a joke, but it hurt. You pulled away and rested your head against his chest, letting out a long, slow exhalation as that all-consuming melancholy that seeped into the stolen moment. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“It’s fine,” he ground out. It wasn’t fine. You could hear it in his voice. Even as he moved you off of him with the gentlest touch, you felt the distance growing between you once more. He slipped out of the bunk and you listened to him search for his helmet in the dark, but you sensed him hesitate and he turned back to you, cupping your face between his hands and pressing his lips to yours. There was something about this kiss that felt different. There was a desperate sort of passion that sends adrenaline coursing through your veins. You return it with equal fervor, pouring all your love for him into that kiss.

“What was that for?” you asked when he finally parted from you.

“I never know.”

“Know what?”

When he spoke next, his voice came to you filtered through the modulator. “I never know when it will be our last.”

The truth of his words tore through you, leaving you feeling cold as you packed your things and emptied the converted bunkroom of all traces of you.

After descending the Razor Crest’s ramp, your boots hit the soft grass first, sinking slightly into the black soil that covered the planet. A cool, misty air kissed your skin as you stepped away from the safety of the ship. Your eyes scanned the green valley, landing on the small settlement that dotted the landscape.

You felt Mando approach. He stopped a half step behind you, but his presence felt heavy, almost overwhelming, as you tried to focus. Still, you knew he’d wait for your call.

“She’s here,” you announced quietly, voice barely audible over the crashing waves. You peered back at him over your shoulder, finding his dark visor already trained on you. His helmet tilted slightly. Your heart swelled with affection at the familiar, inquisitive movement. You were well beyond chastising yourself for the sentiment, even if it hurt. “And I think she’s close.” You tore your eyes away from him, ignoring the way the words seemed to get stuck in your throat. Finding your former master had been your goal for years. Now, for the first time in nearly a decade, the two of you were on the same planet. Yet you felt no joy at that momentous fact.

You felt a steady hand rest between your shoulder blades. “I’m right behind you, cyar’ika. Lead the way.”

After a few hours of trekking along the base of the rolling hills at the direction of one talkative settler, you found a lone woman meditating in a grassy field. She faced away from you, but the lavender hair styled in a low chignon and dark flowing robes told you exactly who she was.

“Wait here,” you directed without ever taking your eyes off of her. A familiar hand wrapped around yours, stalling you. “It’ll be okay, Mando, but you have to let go.”

You took another step forward and your hand slipped out of his. When you stopped a few paces away, you hesitated. Even after all the years you’d spent searching for your former master, you never figured out what you wanted to say.

Before you could so much as open your mouth, a flash of violet light cut across your vision. Reacting on instinct, you reached for your lightsaber, blocking the attack at the last moment.

Falling back a step, you grounded yourself before meeting her next strike. A clash of blue and purple plasma sputtered before you. Over the cross of your sabers, you saw her calculating amber eyes flick to the side as she lifted a hand. Daring a glance back, you saw Mando frozen in place, blaster drawn and ready to fire.

The force behind your next attack sent Zarichi reeling.

“You hurt them,” you said through gritted teeth in between parries, “and I’ll strike you down where you stand.”

“You don’t have it in you,” she scoffed.

“You don’t know what I’m capable of.”

“I taught you everything.” Her next drive, three strong blows you narrowly managed to counter, landed you flat on your back with her saber at your neck. The slightest move would’ve singed your skin. “And you’re out of practice, padawan.”

Before she could so much disengage her lightsaber, she was thrown across the field by some unseen force. You watched her tumble to the ground in a heap before snapping your head to the kid. He stood next to his father, hand outstretched and eyes closed. “Damn,” you breathed.

Zarichi stood and dusted herself off, eyes locked on the baby at Mando’s side. “How curious,” she assed, with a hint of a laugh. Without another word, she set off back toward the settlement. Sighing, you fell back against the grass.

With the baby clutched to his chest and a hand on his hip, Mando appeared above you. “That’s your master?” He didn’t sound amused.

“What’d you expect?” you asked with a shrug. “She’s a Jedi.”

... . ...

Thank you for reading!

Forever Tags: @leo-moon @readsalot73 @frietiemeloen @huliabitch @jerusomeeno @benedrylcumbersnatch @b0n-chann @scapricciatello @liadamerondjarin @pedropasscals @paintballkid711 @mistermiraclee @cryptkeepersoul @honeyand-roses

The Light of Stars Tags: @roxypeanut @mrsparknuts @evidenceofzoe @holographic-carmen @wickedfrsgrl @buckysalefty @justabeautiful-letdown

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian fanfiction #fic: the light of stars

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fellintotartarus · 4 years

Text

my brown-haired boy (3)

Summary: Reader has to navigate the difficult reality of having a crush on Spencer and trying to raise a kid with him. 6.5k words

A/N: This is it! Thank you so much for the support on the previous 2 parts and I really hope you guys enjoy this last part.

Warnings: explicit discussions of sex, angst, curse words, alcohol consumption.

part 1 | part 2

The first time Spencer asked you if Max could stay with him for the weekend, you nearly passed out on the spot.

“Y/N?” Spencer asked.

You blinked. There was no reason for him not to be able to, right? So why the hell did it make you so nervous?

“Um… yes,” you said hesitantly.

Spencer eyed you warily.

“Are you sure?”

You exhaled sharply, nodded, and said, “Yes.”

Spencer’s eyes lit up and he thanked you before running off somewhere, presumably to gush to someone or make plans.

It was November, four months since Spencer had met Max. They took to each other impossibly, Max always asking after Spencer and vice versa. On more than one occasion, you’d had to call Spencer over in the middle of the night to calm Max after a nightmare.

And then there was the issue of the palpable tension between the two of you. Nothing could just be what it was. Every phone call had to end with a longing sigh, every glance with a burning passion. You found your gaze lingering on his lithe arms when his sleeves were rolled up, on his jawline as he examined a crime board, on his hands (god, his hands) as they flicked over a page.

It had bled obviously into your work life, too, where, entirely too often, you had to be snapped out of a stupor by one of the girls.

You hadn’t told anyone, though. Your first and foremost responsibility was to Max, and you hardly wanted anyone thinking that you were going to jeopardize that.

Right now though, it was Thursday and you were wrapping up a case in Grand Rapids and you desperately wanted to be home with your son, who you had incidentally just handed over to his father.

The team had taken the news in stride. It was still incredibly strange to them (justifiably so, honestly), so they tended to avoid the topic so as to not accidentally bring up anything sensitive. This mistake had already been made once (your cheeks burned at the memory of Derek asking why you and Spencer showed up to work together so often) and everyone was quick to learn from that experience.

Your phone rang and you looked down to see your mother’s contact light up the screen. You excused yourself from the conference room and quickly answered.

“Hey, mom.”

“Hi, darling. Max wants to say goodnight,” she said, sighing and sounding slightly apologetic.

“No worries, mom, we’re in a lull anyways. Put him on, would you?” you appeased her.

“Mommy!” came a shrill squeal from the line.

“Hi, mouse,” you lilted. “Goodnight, baby. Sleep tight. I’ll be home tomorrow.”

“Is daddy there?” Max asked impatiently.

“I- yes. He’s right here,” you said, slightly taken aback, and walked back into the conference room. You walked up to Spencer and unceremoniously handed him the phone, shrugging when he looked at you inquisitively. He stood up and started out of the room, putting the phone up to his ear as he walked.

JJ glanced over at you and said, “What was that about?”

You frowned. “He didn’t even say anything, just ‘Is daddy there?’” You ripped at the corner of the page in the case files you were working on. JJ smiled sympathetically. “Henry went through the same thing. Honestly, he still prefers one of us on and off.”

You shook your head. “But I--” you sighed. “I don’t know.”

Spencer came back into the room a few minutes later, smiling apologetically and handing you back your phone

“What was that about?” you asked, trying to sound casual.

Spencer laughed softly. “He just wanted to tell me about that thing that happened at school.”

You looked at him expectantly. “Wh- well, what happened?” you asked.

Spencer looked at you confusedly and said, “He didn’t--” but he was interrupted by Hotch, who came in with a new directive in the case.

You were visibly sullen the rest of the day. JJ assured you it was normal, but you couldn’t help but think that Max was taking to Spencer more than he ever liked you.

You were short with Spencer, too, even though you knew it was through no fault of his own that Max asked for him instead of you.

Sensing your worry, Hotch came up next to you at the precinct’s coffee machine.

“It’s just because he sees Reid as more of a friend than anything. Trust me, as soon as he has to tell him to go to bed or eat his vegetables, you’ll have equal footing again,” he said with a small smile.

You reciprocated, nodding your head with a small, “Thanks,” desperately hoping he was right.

The case wrapped up rather quickly, and you found yourself avoiding Spencer on the jet home the next day. You could feel his eyes burning into the back of your neck and could see JJ, who sat across from you, exchanging nervous looks with him over your shoulder.

“Hey,” you interrupted her conspicuous staring contest. “Spence has Max for the weekend. Girls’ night?”

JJ’s eyes lit up (and you only later thought to realize it had been completely mischievous) and smiled.

“Sounds amazing.”

You grinned in response and your phone dinged.

Pen Garcia

Did someone say girls’ night at Y/N’s?!!

You stared at your phone, mouth agape.

Pen Garcia

I have an alert system any time anyone on the plane says girls’ night.

You blinked in disbelief.

“So it seems that Pen spies on us and is overwhelmingly ready for girls’ night.”

JJ nodded. “Oh yeah, that old thing. It scared the shit out of me the first time.”

You laughed, “You can say that again.”

The plane landed sooner than you would have liked, and you turned to Spencer as you were both getting off the jet and said curtly, “I’ll drop him off at six.”

His eyes caught yours and for a second you completely forgot you were feeling resentful toward him.

You hated it. It was like time froze and the only thing you could think of or focus on was him. It was pretty easily tunnel vision, and every time, your breath caught in your throat and your cheeks heated to an impossible pink. Each time, it became somehow easier and harder to snap out of it. The better you got at it, the less you wanted to. You tore your gaze from his and walked side by side back into headquarters.

Spencer looked slightly concerned for you. He walked a little faster to be slightly ahead of you and turned his head a little, the expression on his face clearly asking if you were okay.

You nodded softly, pulling him to the side. “Six, okay? And Spencer, you’re his dad. This can’t just be a fun sleepover.”

Spencer looked slightly confused, but agreed. “Y/N, I know that. Don’t worry.”

You smiled and thanked him before walking off to your car and driving home.

As soon as you put your key in the lock, you heard the little footsteps thundering toward the door. You managed to catch your son in a hug while kicking the door shut behind you.

“Hi, mouse!” you smiled and kissed his chubby cheek. “You’re gonna spend the weekend at Daddy’s. Does that sound okay?”

To say Max’s face lit up would be an understatement. He squealed excitedly, jumped up and down, and said, “Yeaaahhh!” in a way only a 5 year old could.

You giggled, said, “Okay, mouse, go get your toys packed up,” and walked over to the dresser in his room to pack a weekend bag.

You sighed, thinking of the way Max was clearly more excited to spend time with Spencer than with you. You thought of what JJ said, that Henry went through it, too. You hated to think it, but it was different. Henry grew up with both Will and JJ. You were Max’s only parent up until 4 months ago, you had raised him by yourself, and it was so painful to see someone who only showed up those 4 months ago take over your son’s life so easily.

You mentally scolded yourself. There was quite literally no way Spencer would have gotten involved sooner. Not only that, but you were the one who decided to involve him in the first place. You couldn’t think like this.

But everything about Spencer was infuriating. He was absolutely perfect around your kid, he was devastatingly attractive, and he didn’t fucking know it. He still acted as though Max wasn’t completely infatuated with him, he licked his lips and scrunched his eyebrows with such little care it almost seemed on purpose, and you were sick of it. You wanted to be able to make it through a day without having to exist so consciously around him, where you could just breathe and stop worrying about him being right there.

You shut the dresser just a little too harshly, snapping you out of your conflicting mess of festering emotions. Sighing, you finished packing Max’s things and led him to the car.

Spencer, for some god-awful reason, lived in DC proper, making your drive to his house overwhelmingly unbearable. The drive wasn’t long, but the traffic was awful and you wanted to poke your eyes out by the time you pulled up to his apartment.

Getting Max out of his booster seat and walking him up the stairs, you said, “Alright, Max, I’ll pick you up on Sunday, okay?”

Spencer was waiting at the open door and Max ran to him. You were suddenly choked up, feeling like the day a few months prior when you left Max at school for the first time.

After Spencer finished greeting Max and managed to pry him off of his legs, he said, “Say goodbye to Mommy, Maxie,” seeming almost worried that Max wouldn’t be enthusiastic about it.

Thankfully, however, Max walked over to you and gave you a squeeze and kiss on the cheek before saying, “Bye, mommy!”

“Bye, baby,” you said, breathing a sigh of relief. You nodded goodbye to Spencer before heading back down the stairs.

On your way back home, you sent a text to the girls’ night group that Pen added you to the day you started at the BAU.

You

Mine at 9?

You received affirmative texts from all the women before you even pulled into your driveway.

The next two hours were filled with tidying (your mom, like a saint, did a lot of the cleaning when she stayed, so all that was left to you was picking up and wiping down the occasional counter), picking up an exorbitant amount of booze, and, even though you were staying in, picking out an outfit that didn’t scream I’ve been a single mom for five years.

You let yourself dwell on your perpetual problem longer than you probably should have. Every time you thought of Spencer, your heart hurt. You didn’t know why you couldn’t just put these feelings aside and let it be a normal co-parenting/coworker relationship (as if there was such a thing).

You were snapped out of your thoughts (that seemed to happen quite a bit these days) by excited knocks at your door.

You put on your best face and opened the door to the three women standing on your front porch. Upon seeing you, all three of them cheered and pushed their way into your house.

“I have the movie picked. Tonight we will be watching After because it is the worst movie ever created based on the worst book ever written based on the most popular One Direction fanfiction ever, and I will have you know that I kept up with that fanfiction while it was being released and the movie does it zero justice,” Penelope said in one breath. “Not that there was any justice for it to be given in the first place,” she shrugged.

The other three of you were nearly in tears as she rambled, already indoctrinated on her severe opinions on the movie/book/fanfiction.

After one shot and one drink each, you hit play on the movie and let it play in the background.

“You know, Pen, I still remember in high school when you got caught writing lesbian Harry Potter smut on a library computer,” you said, inhibitions obviously already lowered.

Emily’s mouth fell completely open. “Penelope… please tell me this is true.”

Penelope looked completely betrayed, cheeks red and eyes wide. “Y/N, high school is off the table. Or did you want me to tell them about that one time I found you with your hand down your pants with a copy of Twilight?”

Screeching laughter echoed throughout the small house while your face burned red and you slapped a hand over Penelope’s mouth.

“Truce, okay, truce!” you yelled over the noise, laughing yourself and trying to calm everyone down.

After a few more drinks that left you all pretty incapacitated, the conversation strayed naturally to your sex lives. Because that was something you had as a single mother of a five-year-old.

JJ began, “Hottest sex Will and I ever had was at this fancy hotel room in New York before we had Henry. I tied him up and--”

Emily interrupted, “Woah, okay, that’s definitely enough detail.”

“Well, what about you?” Penelope said, poking Emily in the cheek.

Emily leaned back into the cushions and stared at the ceiling before saying, “It was with this girl back in the Academy. We were new recruits, so there was just something so hot and new and fun about handcuffs. Honestly nothing has topped that feeling since. I mean, there’s been better sex, sure, but nothing as all around good as that.”

Penelope went next. “I’m honestly surprised Kevin and I dated as long as we did, because the sex, even if it was adventurous, was wildly mediocre. Just aggressively okay. But the best sex would probably have to be with this old hacker I worked with. He was so rough and somehow caring at the same time? Anyways, him.”

Everyone looked at you expectantly and suddenly you could vividly feel every drop of alcohol in your system. The ceiling spun dangerously and you felt yourself opening your mouth and speaking before you could stop yourself.

“He soft dommed me. Told me shit like ‘good girl’ and ‘you take it so nice’ and held his hand around my throat and made me finish like four times. It was ridiculously good.” you sighed, only barely registering that you told them more about their coworker of several years than they would want to know.

Penelope said, “Oh god, that sounds nice.”

You sighed. “It was so nice. Haven’t had any since, though.”

“And what was the context of this?” Emily said, surprisingly coherent for the number of drinks she had.

“Oh, it was the one-night stand with Spence in Vegas,” you said as if they should have known.

SIlence. And then, “Oh, I take it back. I take it back,” from Pen.

Emily sat straight up. “Wait, you’re telling me Spencer, our Spencer, is a dom?”

You shrugged, nonplussed. “Maybe not as a rule, but for sure that night.”

JJ held her hand up to stop any more conversation. “No. I am done with this conversation. That man is my little brother and I cannot hear this.”

“Agreed,” from Penelope.

“Whatever. It’s not like I told you guys I accidentally maybe fell in love with him,” you chuckled, almost to yourself.

The air in the room sobered quickly.

Pen scooted over to you. “Baby. What?”

You looked over at her. “Oh, it’s not like it’s a big deal. He likes me back. We kissed. Once--” you held up one finger emphatically as if to prove your point (god you were drunk). “Only once. And it was just to get it out, you know? ‘Cause we can’t get involved like that. Not with Max.”

You giggled. “And it only hurts a little, right? Because Max likes him better than me now, but I raised Max by myself for five years and I think I deserve a little more credit than that! So Spencer is all of the sudden this perfect dad but there’s so much tension and I don’t know how much more I can take.”

A few tears slipped down your eyes and you broke into sniffles, all three of the girls quickly shuffling next to you and taking you in their arms. You leaned into Penelope’s ample chest and looked up at her through tears.

“Pen, these make a fantastic pillow.”

All of you laughed a little before JJ spoke. “Y/N, I know you think you’re doing right by Max by not being with Spencer. I know it. But, babes, if you let this tension continue, nothing good will come of it.”

Emily nodded. “I know both of you well enough to say that even if a relationship failed, you two are way too invested in Max to let anything come between that.”

You shook your head. “I know you guys just want me to be happy. But growing up without a dad sucks. And I don't want to put Max at the tiniest risk he could lose that now that he has it.”

At that moment, someone on screen said something incredibly stupid and the three of you burst into hesitant giggles, lightening the mood ever so slightly.

JJ pulled you up and said, “Come on, let’s get you ready for bed,” to which you nodded and smiled lazily.

“Thank you,” you whispered, nuzzling into her. She pulled the sheets back and wrestled you out of your pants before tipping you unceremoniously into your bed.

“Oh, Y/N. Thank me when this is resolved.” she sighed, pulling the sheets up to your chin as you fell asleep.

Sunday, you overslept and were in a massive rush to get Max from Spencer’s on time. You barely had time to shove a piece of toast in your mouth before jumping in your car and taking off nearly an hour behind schedule.

By the time you parked at Spencer’s apartment, it was definitely an hour past when you were supposed to pick him up.

You practically sprinted up the stairs and knocked frantically at his door.

As soon as the door opened, you pushed in, explaining yourself at the speed of light.

“I’m so sorry, Spencer, I slept in and lost track of time--”

“Woah, Y/N,” Spencer interrupted, grabbing your hand. “Have you checked your phone? Your mom came and got him to take him to the zoo.”

You gasped. “Oh my god I forgot about that. She texted me last night right before I passed out and--”

“Y/N, don’t worry about it. Seriously.” Spencer assuaged you.

You nodded, taking a breath, and noticed your hand in his. You felt your nerves come to life, every single groove of his hand being mapped by yours. You gulped, your eyes flicking up to his.

The air in the room was incredibly thick, and you could almost feel his pulse. God, it was ridiculous how much tension there was. It seemed like something straight out of a romance novel or--

His eyes dropped to your lips and your breath hitched. You felt your eyes fluttering closed and his breath ghosting your face before you pulled away suddenly.

“Spencer,” you whispered, tears playing at the corner of your eyes. “You know we can’t.”

His forehead dropped to yours and he closed his eyes, sighing. “I know.”

“There’s no good solution here, is there?” you asked.

Spencer chuckled emptily. “I don’t suppose there is.”

You pulled away slowly and completely, smiling softly, not really meaning it, and stepped out the door.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” you said.

“See you tomorrow,” he replied.

And that’s how you ended up with JJ on your couch, the both of you sharing an obscenely large tub of ice cream.

“I just don’t know what to do anymore,” you sighed dejectedly.

JJ stabbed her spoon into the ice cream and left it there, taking your face in her hands and saying, “Y/N, it’s not healthy for anyone in this situation to keep repressing these feelings. You’re both too professional and respectful to let anything get in the way of Max.”

“I don’t understand why I can’t just let it go! It’s just a stupid crush and I’m letting get in the way of everything!” you ranted, letting out an exasperated groan.

JJ rubbed your back and said, “You know it’s more than that, Y/N. And that kind of thing is not something you just get rid of.”

“Just tell me what to do, Jayje,” you whined.

She chuckled. “Y/N, you know what I think you should do. But if you’re serious about getting over it, you have to stop acting like there’s something there. Stop putting yourself in situations that perpetuate your feelings.”

You responded by groaning again, this time into a pillow.

“Why does this have to be so hard?” you asked softly, turning your head over to JJ.

She just gave you a sympathetic look in return, saying “I know, babe,” and continuing to rub your back.

True to JJ’s advice, you stopped avoiding Spencer like there was anything wrong. Hotch had been right about Max equalizing once he realized Spencer was not just a friend, so at least you didn’t have to worry about that anymore. It was hard, but you managed to stop catching Spencer’s eye illicitly, the lingering touches and gazes.

If you were honest, it made it entirely worse than before. You felt like you were living a lie, especially since Spencer practically looked like a kicked puppy at the realization that you were detaching yourself.

You came up to him in the office one early December afternoon and said, “We should start planning Max’s birthday party.”

Spencer looked up at you. “Oh, there’s a ‘we’ now, is there?”

You looked at him confusedly. “Spencer, what the hell are you talking about?”

He pulled you into the copy room and flicked the lock. “So I’m just Max’s dad now, huh? Nothing else?” he said, coming dangerously close to you.

You squared up against him and said, “Spencer, nothing can happen between us and it would be stupid to keep up the Pride and Prejudice-style longing! It was a one-night stand and we are coworkers,” you nearly yelled. “Or have you forgotten the FBI fraternization rules, SSA Dr. Reid?”

“I’m not the one who shamelessly leaned in for a kiss three separate times, now was I?” he responded, just as harsh.

“That was both of us and you know it, Dr. Reid.�� you said, your voice low.

“You’re punishing me for something that isn’t even remotely my fault! If you hadn’t begged a stranger to sleep with you, we wouldn’t be in this situation!” Spencer yelled.

“So now we’re playing the slut card, huh? Are you really suggesting my son is causing the problems right now? Let’s get one thing straight, Spencer if I hadn’t begged you to sleep with me you wouldn’t have a son. You wouldn't have the son that I raised for five years by myself! You don’t get to act like a bitch baby just because you can’t get in my pants again.” you snarled.

“You know that’s not what’s happening here. And you can hardly pin the blame on me, Y/N, you know full well there was no way of us getting in touch!”

“It was a mistake involving you in this.”

“It was a mistake fucking you!”

“How dare you fucking say that? You know what that means. You can’t get involved in my kid’s life for 4 months and then decide you don’t want anything to do with us! Fuck, you, Reid, fuck you.” You stalked out of the copy room, face stony, and sat at your desk, not noticing every single pair of eyes in the bullpen trained on you.

Your phone buzzed.

Pen Garcia

Y/N, I heard that all the way from the hallway.

Pen Garcia

Do you want to grab lunch and talk about it?

You sighed, looking around the room and seeing how everyone was purposefully avoiding your gaze. You were too numb to even cry. Every single moment you had at the BAU had been tied to Spencer and Max and it had culminated to this one awful tipping point.

You quickly scratched out a note to Spencer (look I’m not going to stop you from seeing Max but it doesn’t sound like something you want anymore. text pen if you want to help with the party. don’t talk to me unless it’s about work or Max.) and left it at his desk.

You walked up the stairs to Hotch’s office and poked your head in. He seemed to be waiting for you.

“That sounded bad.”

You sighed. “Yeah. I don’t know. I expected too much of him, I guess.”

You paused and looked at Hotch. He seemed sympathetic (or as sympathetic as he was allowed to be toward a subordinate that just disrupted the entire floor).

Finally he spoke up. “Why don’t you head out for the rest of the day?”

You swallowed and nodded. “Thanks, Hotch.”

You to Pen Garcia

Please.

The next week passed very uncomfortably. You and Spencer were just civil enough at work to not need a reprimand, but not enough that you didn’t make everyone aware that you two were very much still at odds.

He picked up Max for the odd sleepover with minimal interaction and Max could tell something was wrong. He didn’t say anything, but every time you or he brought up Daddy, the tightness in your face and voice was a dead giveaway, even for a five-year-old.

Everyone on the team tried multiple times to get you guys to make up, but there wasn’t even enough passion in the animosity. You would just stare at him and walk off.

It was fucking awful. Just when you were getting used to having someone around--someone in any capacity--he fucking ruined it. Sometimes, when you were trying to fall asleep, you’d lay in your bed and replay his words in your head.

It was a mistake fucking you.

You’d let the tears roll down your temples into your hair and ears as you imagined a world in which you hadn’t done just that. You imagined a world in which you were new to the BAU, no baggage, no complications, just your outstanding application and a new job. You imagined a world in which Spencer wasn’t this person ridden with so many memories and unfortunate connections.

But, god, for him to say that knowing that meant Max not existing? That’s where you took issue. You desperately wanted to move on and forget about it but that was proving impossible. Everything reminded you of him and what happened. But the worst part was that you still had feelings for him.

Before, you would glance at him and feel wistful, thinking of what could be but what couldn’t be. Now, it felt like someone twisting a knife in you. You’d see him, you’d wake up in the morning and think of him, and for a glorious second, it was all pure. A simple crush. Then it came crashing down. The things he said, the way he acted around you, and you would just collapse inside.

Spencer had come up to you a few times, but you were unclear on his intentions. For a second, it seemed like he was going to let you have it again, but then he’d see your face and his expression would soften and he’d walk away.

On more than one occasion, you had seen or overheard another member of the team going in on him. Apparently the contents of the argument were well known because you had yelled so loud. They all seemed to passively side with you, which meant Spencer must have really fucked up because they had known him for years and you for months. Derek pulled him aside and told him he was way out of line, Hotch demanded he make amends, and Emily just glared.

You took only a small comfort in the fact that the team had your back, because that didn’t change the fact that you and Spencer were not speaking. The day of Max’s party was quickly approaching and you were already exhausted thinking of all the pretending you would have to do. Your mom knew very little as to why things were tense and knew not to ask. It seemed that problems with baby daddies ran in the family now.

Max’s birthday was December 9th and the day you finally broke was December 7th.

The team was in the conference room working on a group consult. Preliminary deductions were made, leaving everyone in silence, glancing over the case files for more information. You glanced up a few seats over to see Spencer looking at you with so much emotion. You couldn’t place it, but you had absolutely had it.

“Dr. Reid, do you need me to transfer? Because I can’t do this anymore and I’m begging you to stop being such a fucking ass,” you seethed quietly, just loud enough for everyone else in the room to hear.

Hotch started to object, but you felt the tears welling in your eyes, so you calmly pushed away from the table and excused yourself to the bathroom, Penelope following closely behind you.

As soon as you pushed the door open, a sob escaped your throat, echoing throughout the bathroom. Penelope quickly pulled you in her arms as you broke down into tears.

“I just don’t know what to do, Pen, I can’t take this anymore,” you gasped through sobs.

Penelope, being the empath she was, cried with you, holding you close and rubbing your back. “Baby, I know. I know it’s hard. But believe me, you’re so strong. You’re the one that had a kid by yourself at 23 and you’re right, Spencer is a complete ass right now. It’s not your fault, baby, it really isn’t.”

“What am I supposed to do? This is my dream job, Pen, it would kill me to transfer but I just can’t take this anymore. And even if I transfer, I can’t just keep him from Max, Max loves him so much,” you cried. “Please, Penelope. I don’t know what to do.”

A knock on the door rang out.

“Y/N? Are you in there?” It was Spencer’s voice.

Penelope looked down at you in her arms. “Do you want to talk to him?”

You sniffed, collecting yourself slightly before nodding. “Yeah. I’d better.”

Penelope smiled softly. “I’ll be here if you need me.”

You gave her a watery smile in return. “The bathroom?”

“You underestimate my resolve,” she responded.

You shook your head affectionately, walking slowly toward the door. “I could never, Pen.”

You pulled the door open to see a fraught Spencer on the other side. He looked genuinely worried and upset, which caught you slightly off guard. He nodded toward the now empty conference room and turned to start in that direction. You followed closely behind him.

Once inside, he turned to face you again. “Y/N I’m so sorry.”

You waited for him to continue.

“I’ve never regretted anything more. I shouldn’t have said what I said, it was so… wrong of me. There’s no way on Earth I could ever regret Max, ever, Y/N, you have to understand that. I majorly crossed a line. There is literally no excuse for what I said,” he rambled, quiet tears slipping down his cheeks as he talked.

“Spencer. I can’t just forget it.” you whispered. “If this is what it’s going to be like every time we fight, I’m not going to be able to handle it. I care about you a lot and it hurts too much.”

You sat in one of the numerous chairs and continued, “And I was mean, too, Spencer. I hurt your feelings. I’m sorry. It wasn’t a mistake involving you. It was just a mistake ignoring these feelings and pretending they would go away. And then acting like children about it,” you added, chuckling dryly.

Spencer was quiet for a moment, taking a seat next to you. “I really want to make this work. Us,” he said, taking your hand. “This week has been hell, Y/N.”

“It has, hasn’t it,” you replied.

“Spencer, promise me, promise me that we won’t keep stuff from each other and let things explode like this. We’re in each other’s lives for good now, whether we like it or not.” you said firmly.

“Never again,” Spencer smiled.

The day of Max’s party rolled around and you were awoken by a very rambunctious (now) six-year-old practically jumping on your ribs.

“Oh, god, mouse,” you groaned. “Stop that, you’re hurting me.”

Max was very quick to settle after you spoke and he nuzzled in next to you and said, “Sorry, mommy, I’m just so excited!”

You laughed, still blinking sleep out of your eyes. “Happy birthday, mouse.”

Max shot up and said, “Thank you!” before getting up and running god knows where.

The rest of the morning was filled with preparations. Penelope came over with Derek and a full car, but wouldn’t let you outside to see anything she had brought.

Derek greeted you with a hug. “How’re you doing?”

You beamed. “A lot better.”

And it was true. You and Spencer spent the rest of the afternoon (or, really, as much as you could of it) talking. It was productive and you were genuinely hopeful. You started to think that maybe a relationship wouldn’t be as damaging as you had made it out to be.

Derek smiled and said, “Glad to hear it, Y/N.”

While Derek and Penelope set up in the backyard, you got Max ready for his party. He insisted on wearing all his favorite clothes that he had worn earlier in the week, so you had to do a load of laundry so he could wear them.

Max came meandering into the laundry room while you were putting the wet clothes in the dryer.

“Are you still mad at daddy?” he asked.

You turned to him, alarmed. “What makes you think I was mad at daddy?”

Max shrugged. “I don’t know. It was obvious.”

You sighed, contemplating what to say.

“Daddy and I had a fight, mouse. And I was mad at him for a little while, but we talked about it and apologized to each other, which is what you do when you hurt someone’s feelings, right?”

Max nodded.

“Well, we apologized to each other and now we aren’t mad at each other anymore,” you said, tossing the last of the clothes into the dryer.

“Yay!” Max exclaimed. “So you’re kissing now?”

“Wh- What?” you asked, extremely startled by the question.

“Mommies and daddies kiss,” Max explained simply.

You knelt on the ground next to him. “Yeah, mouse, some do. But Spencer and I aren’t like that. We don’t know each other very well, and normally, you only kiss people you know well.”

Max looked slightly dejected. “Okay.”

You poked him in the tummy and said, “Let’s go see how the set up for the party is going.”

Max perked up and followed you outside.

You stopped in your tracks at the sight in front of you. “Penelope. Oh my god. You’ve outdone yourself.”

The backyard was absolutely decked in decorations. Streamers hung from tree to tree, tables were set up with different kids’ games, and the goodie bags were concerningly large.

“Only the best for my Maxie!” Pen said, walking over to the both of you. You smiled and wrapped her in a hug. “Though Derek did most of the heavy lifting,” she laughed.

“Now hurry up and get ready, both of you. Your friends will be here soon!” she continued, shooing you inside.

True to Penelope’s word, as soon as you got Max dressed, his friends started pouring into the backyard. Other moms praised you on your decorating skills, which Penelope practically bullied you into taking the credit for (“single moms get enough shit as it is”).

As it was a BAU tradition to attend kids’ parties for reasons you didn’t quite understand but were entirely grateful for, the team began showing up shortly after the kids. Hotch got there first with Jack in tow, who took off for the games as soon as he saw them, while Hotch greeted you with a small hug. JJ showed up with Henry and exactly the same thing happened. Emily showed up sporting a bag that clinked too much for your liking and she winked at your questioning eyebrow. Your mom and sister were absolutely floored by the decorations when they showed, giving Penelope big hugs.

Finally, Spencer walked through the gate, and Max ran up to him at the speed of light. Spencer caught him and spun him through the air, singing Happy Birthday in a truly awful singing voice. His eye caught yours and you smiled from ear to ear.

After he dealt with Max, he walked over to you and wrapped you in a tight hug, saying, “I’m glad we’re okay,” into your ear.

You pulled away, watching all the kids run around your backyard with glee. “You know, Max noticed. He asked if I was done being mad at you this morning.”

Spencer laughed. “He’s a smart kid. I guess we’ll just have to never do that again.” “Agreed,” you chuckled. You thought for a second before adding, “He also asked if we’re kissing now. Because that’s what happy mommies and daddies do.”

Spencer glanced over at you. “Yeah?”

You bit your lip, rocking on your toes. “Yeah.”

You made eye contact that shocked you down to your toes. “It would be a big deal, Y/N. I understand that.”

You looked around before subtly grabbing his hand. “I think it’s worth it. I really like you, Spencer. You’re my kid’s dad. There obviously has to be something there with that. I want this.”

Spencer didn’t respond, just took your face in his hands and gently pulled it towards his. Your lips met and the world felt right again. You felt as sure of this as when you left Chicago for the BAU, as sure as when you’d made the decision to keep Max, as sure as when you’d first stepped into the hotel room with Spencer.

The kiss was short due to there being so many kids around, but you were still left breathless. You smiled at Spencer as your forehead rested against his. A voice to your left snapped you two out of your reverie.

“Yay, mommy and daddy kissed!” Max yelled.

Your cheeks burned and you nearly hid your face in your hands, but Spencer grabbed them, laughed and said, “Yeah, Maxie, we did,” and you just smiled.

And 12 years later, at Max’s high school graduation, you nearly hid your face in your hands when the tears started pouring down your face, but Spencer grabbed them, kissed them, and said, “Thank you.”

taglist:

@agenthotchner @mrs-dr-reid @rexorangecouny @mollygetssherlockcoffee @ellvswriting @blameitonthenight21

#criminal minds #criminal minds fic #spencer x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fic #bau fic #my brown haired boy

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joheunsaram · 4 years

Text

To Make A Power Couple - 06 (knj)

Chapter 6: Garlic Pasta and I Miss You-s

THIS IS A REPOST SINCE I LOST ACCESS TO MY OLD ACCOUNT. PLEASE FOLLOW THIS BLOG FOR UPDATES ON THIS SERIES.

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Summary- Namjoon visits his parents and Yoongi and Y/N bond over their past.

word count- 4.5k

pairing- idol!namjoon x ceo!reader

rating- R

genre- series, fluff, angst, action, slightly smutty, strangers2lovers

warnings- drinking, talk of mental health and panic attacks, violence, blood, stalker

a.n- sorry for this chapter being late! i had major burn out this last few weeks but I finally got it out. Tell me what you think!

taglist - @beach-bitch-bitch-beach, @sscheherazadee, @rjsmochii , @jinjccns , @joyful-jimin @sideblogger @agustdpeach @diamonddia-mond

—

“I hate you Kim Namjoon! Get out!”

Namjoon looks at you with an amused smile as he drops his bags at the door of your bedroom. You’re sitting in your bed, your comforter fully around you, even on top of your head, as you loudly blow your nose, some show blaring on the television. Even though he feels bad about passing on his cold to you, he can’t help but find your red nose and whining adorable. The past few months since Namjoon returned from tour had been few of the best you’d had in Korea. Although you both still had remarkably busy schedules, you had found a routine of spending time together at least once a week, usually ending your Saturdays together to spend as much of the Sunday together as possible. It didn’t matter how you spent your time, whether it was spent going out on dates or sitting silently reading or cuddling, all that mattered was that you were together.

“Aw baby, I’m sorry!” He sat on the edge of the bed, wrapping his arms around your burittoed body. He kissed all over your face obnoxiously, much to your chagrin as you groaned and tried to get him off you, worried to get your snot on him. “Okay. Tell you what. I’ll cancel going to my parents and stay here to take care of you!” He punctuated that with another kiss on your lips. Hey, he’d already suffered through this cold, might as well take advantage of being able to be near you now.

“No! Shut up! You’re not cancelling.” Since things were slower at work, the company had decided to give Namjoon and the boys the week off. He had spent the first day with you, going to the most recent Ji Hye Yeom exhibit yesterday, and was going to go visit his family for the next four days. When Namjoon told you he was planning to spend the majority of his vacation with his parents, he was bracing himself for a negative reaction, a learned response from his previous relationship. His ex would always hate that he would visit his family for extended periods when he got time off and wouldn’t prioritize his relationship with her. He was surprised and relieved to hear you not only excited that he was visiting family but encouraging him to spend more time, upping his initial ask of two days to four. He liked that you always encouraged him to call his mom when he was on tour, as did his mom, so much so that she had started to say ‘my beautiful daughter’ whenever she referred to you in front of him.

Namjoon stood up as he watched you rant about the importance of visiting family, one arm out from your duvet heaven as you waved it about to emphasize your points. He almost giggled at how endearing you looked sniffling through your tirade, hair a mess and voice a little hoarse. Taking off his jeans to get comfortable, he chuckled at your wide eyes and dramatic gasp.

“No! We’re not having sex right now you maniac!” You whine as you lie down with the covers over your head. Namjoon gets into bed, pulling the comforter from over you to sneak inside, his arms snaking around your grumbling form to pull him to his chest. Although you complained, you snuggled into him, feeling the safe comfort that only Namjoon provided you.

“I just wanna nap with you before I leave.” He kissed the top of your head as he tangled your legs with his. You poked your head up from where it was hiding in his chest to look up at his smiling face as he cupped your cheek to place a chaste kiss on your lips. Caressing the skin once he leans away, he looks at you adoringly. “Sorry for getting you sick, baby.”

———————————-

“Your boyfriend is a tyrant. Please never get sick again.” Yoongi took off his beanie and mask and shook his head to fluff his hair as you went through your phone to finish placing the order for takeout. After talking to Namjoon about how you had spent all of yesterday recovering, and even facetiming to ensure him that you were fit enough to be working again, he still didn’t believe you, forcing the only member of his band that was in Seoul during his vacation to make sure you were truly alright. You would be annoyed if your heart didn’t skip a beat at his overt concern. You were glad to spend time with Yoongi - he was pretty similar to you and you both had been slacking on hanging out lately. A few months ago you had decided to host a whiskey exchange where you would share bottles of your favourite liquor together, only for it to fall apart after two hangouts due to your busy schedules and Yoongi’s new relationship. It was nice to be in his company again, his mellow energy a great contrast to your usually loud friends.

“What did he say?” You question, laughing. Yoongi had called Namjoon many funny nicknames before but hearing him call him a tyrant made you laugh, picturing your boyfriend getting stern and demanding someone pay you a visit.

“You wanna see?” Yoongi chuckled as he pulled his phone out, navigating to the group chat and handing it to you. You couldn’t help but smile as you read Namjoon pleading to the group to check in on you, asking if anyone was around. Yoongi said he was around but refused only to relent once the other boys pressured him and Namjoon pulled in a favour Yoongi owed him from 2015.

“Ooof. Honestly, it’s not that bad. Good to know Jungkook would literally kill for me though, and that you hate to hang out with me.” You threw an ice cube at him from where you were putting them in your glasses.

“He wouldn’t. He’s just a suck up.” He dodged your attack, sticking his tongue out in triumph. “And you know I had to make Namjoon suffer a bit.”

Rolling your eyes at him as he smirked, you watched him pull out his bottle from his backpack. Your Craigellachie 16 no match for his Glenfiddich 30, you chastised him for buying such an expensive bottle for just the exchange. However, you were not going to say no to a glass of that and the two of you sat in a comfortable silence as you enjoyed your drinks. You were the first to break the silence.

“How’s your bae?”

“Oh haven’t you heard? Bae is no more! Broke my heart and left me to suffer.” Yoongi scowled as he dramatically grabbed his chest, before downing his drink. If you didn’t know any better you would’ve thought he was joking but his usual deadpan was missing.

“Shit… I’m sorry Yoongs.” You looked at him softly, making him scoff.

“It’s fine. Going to get a sick album out of this.” Yoongi waved you off, as he reached in his backpack again to bring out three bottles of soju. “Let’s get drunk!”

“That’s… one way of looking at things. You want to talk about it?” You knew he didn’t want to talk about it, it was probably still fresh and you didn’t want to impose but you wanted to give him the opportunity to share if he wanted to.

“Nah it’s fine. It was the usual anyways. ‘You’re always busy.’ ‘Why won’t you share your feelings with me?’ ‘Do you love me more or your career?’ I say good riddance.” He scoffed once again as he poured himself some more whiskey, sipping it blissfully.

“Well good to know you’re not hiding your pain.” You narrowed your eyes at him, but decided to get drunk with him anyways, taking up his offer to refill your glass. You had an extremely light day at work tomorrow with it being Friday and all, plus you knew that once Yoongi got drunk he would tell you how he was feeling. He was a very talkative drunk.

“Oh you know it. I’m nothing if not in touch with my feelings!”

Soon you and Yoongi were wasted, sitting on opposite ends of your couch as the television played the ‘important videos’ playlist on Youtube, laughing maniacally at each random short video that popped up. The food you had ordered was sitting on the coffee table, half eaten and getting cold. Having not heard Yoongi’s giggle in a while you looked away from the screen to see him staring into space, a slight frown on his lips.

“Dude. You good?” You poked him with your foot to break him out of his thoughts.

“Yeah. Sorry just realized I’m single again. Fuck.” He looked at you with wide eyes, as if he had just had an epiphany. You frowned at him, sad that he was feeling this way. In the past six months, you had come to learn that although Yoongi often talked about how much he loved being alone, in reality he put a lot of pressure on himself to find someone to be with.

“You know you’re worth more than a relationship, right?” You placed your hand on his, smiling reassuringly.

“Don’t go all Dr. Phil on me. I’m not that sad. It was like two months but it felt nice to call someone mine, you know?” He rolled his eyes at your concern, but held your hand tighter as he finished his sentence, averting his gaze with a melancholic look. He looked at you again sighing. “How did you get over your last breakup?”

“Um… not healthily. I almost sold my company.”

And so for the next hour, you told Yoongi of how messed up your previous relationship had made you. You don’t think you had talked about it in depth about your breakup with Beomseok for years now, but somehow drunk off extremely expensive whiskey and extremely cheap soju it felt natural to share the details about your most toxic relationship with Yoongi. Beomseok and you met when you were initially still in Canada, visiting Seoul in hopes of expanding. You were busy and he tried to help you as you adjusted to a new country, but as your relationship grew so did his tendency to ensure you relied on him. As hard as it was to admit to Yoongi, Beomseok had made you dependent on him, so much so that when he left you after two years of you accommodating him, you broke down. You started having terrible anxiety, using alcohol and cigarettes to take the edge off. Panic attacks became the norm so much so that you had contemplated leaving your position. You couldn’t see your friends, worked from home, and just buried yourself away. It took half a year of self destructive behaviour and for you to wake up in a bed with someone you didn’t remember to knock some sense into you and get yourself into therapy. Yoongi then talked about his own relationship issues, the two of you bonding over your struggles with mental health and shitty coping mechanisms. It was weird to think that Yoongi hadn’t been one of your close friends before this night.

It was around two in the morning by the time Yoongi left and you felt the emotions of the night catch up to you. You hadn’t thought about Beomseok in years, and thinking about him made you feel extremely sad for past you. You didn’t deserve how he treated you and you wished you could go back in time and shake some sense into yourself, and save the heartbreak. Lying in bed, drunk and emotional, you mourned for your old self and her faith in the world. However, looking at your phone you saw the photo of you and Namjoon - him standing behind you with his arm on your shoulder as he pretends to take a bite off your cheek as you grimace - and you were reminded that you were in a much better place now with a much better man. To say you looked forward to Namjoon returning tomorrow would be an understatement.

———————————-

Namjoon: I’m back!!! Namjoon: I miss you!!! Namjoon: Come over!!! Namjoon: I’m cooking for you!!! Y/N: Um… should I call poison control now or later? Namjoon: I’m back after almost a week and this is the welcome I get? Y/N: Babeeeee you know I love you! Namjoon: Prove it. Eat the pasta I’m making Y/N: Did anyone at least help you cook it? Namjoon: IT’S GOING TO BE GOOD. COME OVER. Y/N: Ok ok. No need to yell… Namjoon: Good. See you in an hour? Namjoon: I’m at the dorms btw Y/N: See you soon jooooooonie Y/N: I miss you too btw Namjoon: I love you too btw

You punched the code to the dorm and were greeted by a very excited Moni as you entered. The white dog jumping up at your legs, his tail wagging wildly behind him. You bent down in the entryway to give him a few scratches behind his ears, cooing and calling him a good boy.

“All this love for Moni, what about Joonie? I’m a good boy too!” You heard Namjoon shout out as you made your way through the large living room towards the kitchen, Moni playfully following.

“Aww is my good boy jealous?” You set your eyes on your boyfriend huddled over a cutting board, concentrating hard on cutting what seemed to be garlic, his jaw set. Namjoon was dressed in a blue overalls under which he wore a black sweater, the hood atop his head, the hair of which was now back to his natural dark brown, his nose scrunched as he attempted to keep his glasses from slipping. You don’t know if it was not seeing him for a while or the fact that he looked so cuddly, but you felt butterflies, your stomach somersaulting. You hadn’t felt them since the beginning of your relationship, and you were a bit unnerved that he still had that effect on you six months later.

“Holy shit. You look like a hot minion!” You almost yelled as you walked towards him, startling him enough to look at you with wide eyes under his black rimmed glasses and yelp.

“Don’t scare me like that! I almost cut my hand off!” He tried to glare at you but was soon smiling widely as you ducked under his arm to stand directly in front of him between the counter, putting your arms around his neck as you pulled him into a kiss. It felt amazing to have his plush lips against yours again, his familiar scent enveloping your senses till it felt like you were drunk off of him.

“I missed you,” you whispered against his lips. Your hands found your elbows as you pulled him in closer and deepened the kiss, making him moan, his tongue massaging yours as his hands went to your hips, pulling you to him. Before you could lose all your senses you felt a sharp poke on your lower back, and you reluctantly pulled away to look behind you.

“Joonie! You’re still holding the knife!” You said in alarm as his eyes widened again and he dropped it on the counter immediately before looking at you sheepishly and apologizing. “Control yourself. I don’t want to spend the night in the hospital!”

“Then stop distracting me! Go sit there and watch me make you the best pasta of your life.” He smirked and his eyes followed as you moved around the island to sit at the stool, bending down to pet Moni as he settled at your feet. Namjoon knew he was a terrible cook, but he had spent the time at home perfecting this recipe, subjecting his mom to the first few horrible tries, till he figured it out. It was a simple five ingredient dish but it was the first he’d learn and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want to impress you. You always cooked for him, from experimental recipes you had found online to traditional Korean food that was second best only to his mom’s, and though he was always happy to do the dishes, he wanted your reunion to be special. He cooked almost quietly, blushing slightly at your words and looks of encouragement, plating it like restaurants would before placing it on the dining table and sitting next to you with a bottle of wine, anticipating your reaction.

“What the fuck? You can cook!” you exclaim as you dig in for another bite. Namjoon lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding as he grinned at his success, finally digging into his meal. “I love the garlic. But damn, is this your way of telling me you don’t wanna kiss tonight?”

“Baby, I find even your gross morning breath irresistible, a little garlic’s not gonna stop me.” he laughed and you scowled at him, nudging him with your shoulder, as he leaned over to peck your lips. You weren’t trying to placate Namjoon, this pasta was absolutely delicious, the right amount of seasoning and everything. It warmed your heart that despite his firestarter tendencies he went through the effort to make you a home cooked meal.

As you ate, you talked about your days apart. You recovered from your cold within a day and had been back at work, and even though he scolded you for going back too fast Namjoon loved the way your eyes lit up when you talked about how you had managed to renew a contract with a client today, switching the period from their usual 1 year to 5 years. You had been working on this for a whole month, taking it upon yourself to attend meetings with not only the directors of this company but even the interns. He squealed with you at your success, high-fiving you and finding your excitement extremely adorable. You also talked about how after two bottles of soju Yoongi had finally admitted you were now his closest female friend and he agreed that you both should now tease him about it relentlessly.

Namjoon told you about how excited everyone was to have him home for that extended period of time, and how healing it was to be around them after the cacophony of tour. Apparently his sister had recently started learning how to make loom bracelets and he showed off the purple one on his wrist, telling you about how he had a matching one for you in his bag. Namjoon looked refreshed and you were glad you convinced him to spend the extra time home. He had also managed to bring back another bonsai tree to add to his collection, taking the time to explain how in a few years he could potentially tap the mini maple for some syrup. The image of your clumsy boyfriend trying to tap a tiny tree made you laugh. As the conversation continued and you both finished your food, you saw his mood dip a little. You silently lean forward cupping his face, as he nuzzles into your touch.

“My beautiful, hardworking boy. What’s wrong?” You coo with a soft smile on your face as your thumbs stroked his cheekbones and he pouts exaggeratedly before his hands go around your waist pulling you into his lap.

“I missed you.” He whispers as he nuzzles his face in your chest, his arms tightening around you. Namjoon felt cocooned in your sweet floral vanilla scent, and even though he’d been home just this morning, this felt like home too - just being in your embrace. He felt his heart swell with adoration as you stroked his hair slowly, whispering affirmations into his ear, slowly forgetting his worries about not spending enough time with you.

Usually when you both met after being apart, it was all desperation to get naked, but for the first time this felt much more intimate. He could hear your heartbeat and it soothed him. He suddenly envisioned both of you old and weathered in each other’s arms and he couldn’t fight the grin that made it on his face. He showered you in kisses, moving from your chest to your neck to your jaw and finally to your lips, where he stayed, kissing you firmly as his arms wind tighter around your waist. You lost yourself in his touch, wanting nothing more to be consumed by him as you tugged lightly at his hair, swallowing his moans. Before things could escalate you get startled by a loud thud.

“Wow! Right where we eat!” Jimin clicked his tongue in disapproval, as you both sheepishly stared at him.

“Noona!” Jungkook exclaimed as he came over to Namjoon and you, dragging you into a hug as he kissed the top of both of your heads. The two men seemed overly excited, and as Namjoon explained to you how he thought he was alone in the dorms tonight since no one has been around in weeks, the two interrupted to say that they had come to start a movie marathon, hoping to stay up all night since they had the day off tomorrow to marathon the Batman franchise as they had a bet going on as which one was the best.

“Do you guys want to join us?” Jimin asked politely as he munched on leftover pasta on the table. You excitedly opened your mouth to speak but before you could get a word out, Namjoon looked at you sternly.

“Nope.” He refused the boys as he looked at you, leaning in close to whisper in your ear before he nipped at it. “Baby, ignore your obsession with Batman. I want my dessert.” His voice was a few octaves lower than usual and his words made you shiver, a blush creeping up your face as a nervous giggle escaped your lips. Maybe you could skip rewatching these old movies, just once.

Bidding a quick goodbye to the boys and ignoring their smirks, you both made your way to Namjoon’s room. As soon as you were out of sight, Namjoon pulled you into another kiss, slotting your lower lip between his, making your heart race as he walked you down the hallway towards his room. You almost tripped over his bags haphazardly strewn in front of his door.

“Sorry, didn’t have time to go to my room yet.” He chuckled against your lips as his grip on your hips stabilized you. You giggled as you turned around to open his door, his lips on your neck instantaneously as he rubbed his growing bulge against your butt. His touch had you breathless as you moved in his room, Moni following closely behind you. Removing himself from you he picked up his dog and moved him outside murmuring an apology to the whining canine as he shut the door.

Without wasting any time, he pinned you against the door, your makeout session getting heavy. Your eyes were screwed shut as you mewled, his lips along your neck igniting a fire in you. Your hands moved from his hair to the buckles of his overalls, snapping them off as they fell to the ground unceremoniously. “Oh look! Easy access!” you exclaimed as he smiled against your skin.

His lips met yours again, his hands kneading the flesh of your sides under your shirt. You could kiss him like this forever, the way his tongue explores your mouth as if he doesn’t already know every crevice of your body, as if he’s worshipping you. His kiss slows down, turning from a sloppy fiery heat to intentional moves made to make you moan as he moves you towards the bed, dropping you to the middle as soon as your knees hit the back of the bed. He stands above you removing his shirt with one hand as you move backwards and soon he’s slotting himself between you.

“Fuck I love you.” He whispers as he kisses your cheek, moving towards your ear. You moan loudly as he grinds against you. Your hands run over his back, feeling the muscles as he continues to kiss your neck, biting it before soothing it with wide licks of his tongue. You used to be embarrassed by the marks he left behind but somehow as time passed you craved them. Jiyoung had even nicknamed him your vampire, and you’d be lying if that didn’t make you giddy.

Realizing you were still fully dressed you pushed at his chest, making him lie next to you as you straddled him, one of your knees almost slipping off the edge of the bed. You giggle at your clumsiness as he holds your hips to steady you and you slowly unbutton your shirt. As your skin becomes visible he runs his hands up your stomach to your chest, squeezing each breast as he reaches your neck before pulling your face to his.

“Mhmm… my pretty girl.” He almost growls as he pulls you into another heated kiss, his hands cupping your face as you grind on him. Suddenly you feel a tug at your hair, making you moan into his mouth, breaking the kiss. Before you know it you are on the floor, laughing at your clumsiness as you see his confused face, eyes still closed, lips puckered.

However, your laughter dies as you hear a loud screech. That’s when you feel that your hair was still being tugged as you looked up to see a tall, bulky woman, probably in her late thirties calling you a slut. Before you can even register what is happening you feel a sharp pain across your face as you realize you’ve just been punched. You taste the iron before you notice drops of bright red on your chest.

You cup your nose with one hand as you hear chaos ensue. Namjoon yelling your name as Moni barks loudly outside the room. You are aware that you are still lying on the floor but your eyes refuse to open as you hear scuffling before the door being slammed and Jungkook’s voice.

Everything’s a blur and you hear a loud blood curdling scream. Before you can register that that noise came from your mouth you hear your arm snap just as the most pain you have ever felt in your life turns your arm numb. You don’t remember much after, only grunts and shouts of your name. The last thing you hear is Namjoon’s voice calling your name repeatedly as he holds your head.

——

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