#tornado bead | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

taleasnewastime · 2 years

Text

What if I love you too much?

Summary: Jungkook. It’s only a name you learn after your son kicks his ball over the fence. Before that you only knew him as the hot new neighbour who mows his lawn topless. And though you have no intention of getting to know him anymore than that, inevitably you do. You don’t necessarily fall, it’s too slow for that, but you definitely develop feelings you don’t intend to feel. Because you know men like him, and you know that whatever you’re feeling, he’s probably not feeling the same. All the same, however hard you try, you can’t help yourself.

Pairing: Jungkook x reader

Genre: fluff; angst; smut; single mum reader

Word count: 20.6k

Warnings: Single mum, small fights, explicit sexual content, oral (f receiving), safe penetrative sex, reader thinks Jungkook is cheating/playing the field, angst, but also fluff, child gets injured (though not seriously), talks of cuts and a small amount of blood.

Additional Drabbles!

Authors Note: Happy Saturday! Hope you’re having a nice weekend so far :)

“Ask him to mow your lawn.”

“What? Rosie, why would I –”

“Because look at your lawn, Y/N,” she twists to look at you with a flat face before looking back out your front window with dreamy eyes. “And then look at him.”

You look at the man in question, every glistening, no-tee-shirt-on, tattooed sleeved, square inch of him. Ok, so maybe you get her point a little. Still, you’re not about agree with her.

“I can mow,” you defend yourself instead. “And my lawns not that bad.”

“But can you mow like him?”

“Anyone can mow like him. He’s literally just going up and down the grass.”

“Y/N. Please. Just look at that body.”

“I thought you wanted me to look at his mowing.”

You catch her rolling her eyes as you twist to sit properly on your sofa, no longer wanting to objectify your new neighbour. You don’t even know his name and yet you’re already ogling at the beads of sweat that roll down the many abs he’s sporting. The feminist in you is ashamed.

“Then ask for some sugar,” Rosie continues, still looking out the window. “Or bake him some cakes to properly welcome him to the street, or I don’t know ask him to look after Zac.”

“Oh yeah, because that’s the way to any man’s heart. Please can you look after my four-year-old child?”

“Alright,” Rosie huffs, finally giving in and twisting to sit by you. “I was just brainstorming.”

“Well, thanks but no thanks.”

You stand, try to focus on the reason you came into the room in the first place. Before you spotted your new neighbour mowing topless you were cleaning the mess Zac, your four-year-old son, had left before he bulldozed his way into the garden. You love your son: he’s cute, caring, behaves and will happily entertain himself when you’re busy, but he has so much energy that sometimes he’s like a little tornado. You’re always cleaning up in his leave.

“You need to introduce yourself at some point,” Rosie continues, her voice taking on a more innocent tone, but you still know her game.

“He’s my neighbour –”

“Exactly.”

“– I don’t talk to all my neighbours. We’ll probably just smile if we happen to get out our cars at the same time.”

Rosie heaves a sigh as if you’re being utterly unreasonable. “You’re impossible.”

“You make it sound like I haven’t been with a man since Henry,” you’re still cramming toys into the plastic box you keep hidden behind the sofa when you say the name of Zac’s dad so miss the annoyed look that crossed Rosie’s face.

“Remind me who again?”

You stand up straight, twist to frown at her. Really?

“And don’t say Cam. We all know that was just a glorified blow job.”

You heat, shake your head as your frown deepens. You tell her everything but sometimes wonder if you should leave certain details out.

“There was Paul,” you begin but are put off by the look Rosie gives you. Ok, maybe she’s right, Paul was the IT guy at work that took you on two dates, the furthest you got was a kiss on your doorstep. “Urm, ok, fine. Though, dating a man is still being with him. But fine, what about Aaron?”

“Arrogant Aaron. That’s one.”

You don’t comment on the nickname, though she may have a point, you have bigger things to think about, your brain churning through the last four years to find any semblance of a relationship that will get Rosie off your back.

“James. One night, but it was good.”

“We’re up to two,” she says in a tone that implies you’re not doing well and need to improve.

“Ryan,” you almost shout the name at her when it pops into your head.

“Was Ryan really after Zac?”

“Yep, I remember Zac waking up screaming right when he was about to –”

“Auntie Roo,” you’re cut off by said screaming child.

Your lips seal shut, you both go stiff, if Zac wasn’t four, you’d both look incredibly guilty. Luckily he isn’t old enough to question it. Instead he does a light jump up and down in front of Rosie, eyes wide and smile broad.

“Please can you play?” The words are a little slurred together in his rush to get them out, some of the letters still not properly forming so when you’re with strangers you have to interpret for him. Rosie is fluent in four-year-old speak and the sentence was clear enough for you both to understand.

“Shall we play out front?”

You shoot daggers at the top of her head. She only smiles.

“But, I wanna play with Baby Boe.”

“Fine,” Rosie says still chipper, she stands to her full height rolling her eyes at you. “There’s at least no mistaking he’s yours.”

You give her a sarcastic smile as she twists and follows your son into the garden, Zac babbling on about something unintelligible, Rosie humming along as if fully engaged. You watch them disappear before going back to the task at hand, shoving the last toys into the box you collapse onto the sofa, happy to have even a minute of quiet to yourself.

Closing your eyes you can hear Rosie and Zac playing house in the back garden with his toy dog, Baby Boe. But there’s also that mechanical sound from earlier. You try to ignore it, but now alone you find it hard. Sitting up straight you make sure you truly are alone before twisting and looking over the back of the sofa.

Your neighbour is still there, on the last strip of grass now. You watch as he finishes, stops the lawn mower and then sweeps a hand through his hair. It makes his abs stretch and his arms flex. It only entrances you more. Rosie is right, he’s hot as hell, but what she doesn’t realise is that you don’t need that in your life. Sex is great, and though you’ve only had a few ‘relationships’ since Zac, there have been enough for you to know that however big the payoff may be, it’s never big enough.

You guess you’ll just have to appreciate the view with this one.

You feel sweaty and tired but unfortunately your son is a bundle of never-ending energy, so here you are kicking a ball around your garden in the baking sun with Zac.

He’s giggling as you half force a smile on your face. It’s not that you’re not having a good time, you love time with your son, it’s more that you’ve been kicking this same ball around for nearing half an hour now. Anytime you’ve suggested doing something else Zac has had a near meltdown. It’s better to play along with it sometimes.

Zac hits the ball towards you, trying to get it between the section of fence you pretend to defend. You leap the wrong way letting the ball hit the fence with a bang.

“And he scores!” You cheer.

Zac screams, hands in the air he does a little running celebration, one he’s done after scoring every goal so far. It still makes you smile.

“What does that make it now, Zac?”

“One million!”

You laugh, fetching the ball and lightly kicking it in his direction.

“Come on then, let’s make it one million and one.”

Zac continues to giggle and run around the garden a little before running at the ball. You can see it’s a bad idea before he even kicks it but are too late to say anything. Zac’s foot hits the ball and it goes shooting towards you. You duck, cover your face with your hands on instinct. But the ball goes over you and the fence.

There’s a beat of silence before Zac realises what he’s done.

“Oh dear,” you say gently, already trying to do damage control.

Zac looks from the top of the fence to your face, his eyes wide with shock.

“It’s ok, we have another ball,” you say.

“But I want my ball,” his eyes are welling up, his bottom lip pouting out.

You try not to sigh and make the situation worse. Instead you go over to the house and pick up one of the other balls. It looks exactly the same, yet Zac doesn’t look impressed.

“This is your ball, Zac,” you try to fill your voice with excitement rather than annoyance. “This one is just as fun. Look.”

You bounce it on the floor before softly kicking towards him. Even you’d admit you don’t do a very convincing job at showing how great the ball is and judging by Zac’s tearful frown, he hasn’t been sold on your pitch either.

“Ok,” you sigh, Zac still looking tearful. “We can go knock next door and ask for it back, but he may not be in and then we’re not allowed to just go around and get it.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s not our house, is it?”

“But it’s my ball.”

“Yes, but we still have to ask nicely for it back, don’t we?” You don’t wait for a response to that rhetorical question, just continue to plough on. “Come on then.”

You hold your hand out and are rewarded with a smaller one placed in it. You head to your side gate, trying and failing to think about what you’re about to do and who you’re about to meet. He’s just a man. Really nothing to stress about. But having Rosie’s words in your head makes it feel like meeting him is something it’s not.

“You have to ask him Zac. So, what do you say?”

There’s a second’s pause filled with the grinding of your gate on the pavement. You look down at Zac when you’re out front and can see his brain working a mile a minute trying to work out the answer to your question.

“You say: I accidentally kicked my ball into your garden. Please can I have it back?”

“I accidentally kick my ball. Please can I have it?” He messes up the pronunciation of accidentally, it’s cute.

“Kicked it into your garden,” you correct as you approach your neighbour’s door.

“I kicked my ball in your garden. Can I have it?”

“Please,” you remind him gently before looking down at him.

He whispers the word back at you, now stood in front of the man’s door he looks a little less sure about the situation. Still, however much you’re also dreading this you’re going to do. it You need to have the confidence for both of you.

You take a breath before looking up and pressing the doorbell. There’s silence as you wait, neither you nor Zac saying anything.

Then the door’s clicking and being pulled open and then there he is. On a slight step above you, you have to look up a little to take in the wide smile he’s showing you. He’s got on a large white t-shirt, baggy black trousers and yet, even though he’s completely covered compared to when you saw him mowing his lawn and the top is not giving you even a hint of what lies beneath, you still feel flustered by his presence.

“Hello,” he says, eyes flicking between you and Zac, smile on his lips but a question in his eyes.

“Hi,” you squeak back, voice too high. “I’m Y/N and this is Zac. We’re your neighbours and uh, Zac here wants to ask you something.”

Both your eyes go down to your little boy who’s now clinging to your leg. He looks up at you unsure, his eyes quickly going to the man and then back to you. Your heart melts.

“Come on Zac,” you say in a far softer tone, your hand going to brush the back of his head. “Can you remember what we said?”

He mutters something that you can’t make out, his lips hardly moving, his eyes on the ground. Still, you look at the man to see his reaction. You’re surprised when you find him leaning in and down towards your son as if to better pick up on what he’s saying. Your heart does something funny and you have to mentally slap yourself to refocus.

“You’ve got to speak a little louder baby.”

Zac addresses you when he says, “Please can I have my ball?”

Well, at least it was louder and he used the word please. But it’s no surprise when you look at the man and he’s looking at you nonplus.

“Zac accidentally kicked his ball into your garden. We were wondering if we could go get it back?”

“Please,” Zac pipes in and while you flush the man seems to light up from within, a mixture of amusement and utter joy at your son embarrassing you.

“Yes, that’s right Zac,” you manage to keep your voice steady. “Please can we have our ball back?”

“Of course,” the man replies, looking between you both. “Why don’t I open up the side gate and you can go find it Zac?”

You look at Zac and he looks back at you unsure what to reply. You give a little nod of your head for encouragement and are rewarded with him looking back at the man and repeating your gesture.

“Give me a sec then,” the man says, standing back straight. “I need to do the bolt from the other side. Why don’t you go wait for me over there?”

You both look to where he points, the gate in question. Zac, now less nervous around the man starts without you. Glancing back at the man to be met with another smile, you swallow before following Zac.

It only takes a second for the gate to grind open. The ally is much like yours, concrete slabs leading down the side of his house to the green of his garden. The man stood in your way bends to look at Zac.

“Why don’t you go run in and have a look? See if you can find your ball in all my long grass?”

This time he needs no encouragement from you. It seems the man has gained his trust in the few minutes you’ve been in his presence. You feel him slip away from you and then watch as he runs down the ally into the garden, leaving you and the man alone. You scramble for words to fill the silence to make it less awkward, hope it doesn’t take Zac long to come back to you.

“Sorry about this,” your eyes flick to the mans which are already on you. “I promise there’s not normally balls flying over the fence.”

“Doesn’t matter if they do,” he replies with a small smile.

Ok. That’s that topic exhausted then with no sign of Zac coming back.

“You enjoying the new house?”

He flicks his head to the side to look at the house in question as if to remember before looking back at you. “Yeah, it’s a great neighbourhood. House needs a lot of work, but I’ll get there.”

“Ah, yeah. I can’t imagine Lindsey and Ron having the same interior style as you.”

“You could say it’s a bit dated for me.”

You giggle, actually laugh at the words as if they’re some amazing joke. It’s more trying to picture this man, this big, buff, man with such a pretty smile living in a house that was previously occupied by two seventy years olds that you don’t think decorated since they moved in forty years ago.

You cut the laugh off short when you realise how odd you must look. The man’s smiling back at you, a different smile to any you’ve seen so far, one you’re sure is him questioning your sanity and who he’s living next to. You cough, shift your weight from foot to foot as you peak over his shoulder praying for Zac to hurry up.

“Well, you’ve certainly managed to tame the front garden.”

“Just the floral carpets to go then,” he smiles at you, his eyes glinting with what looks like a thousand lights.

“Well, if you need a hand with anything, I’m happy to help,” you regret the words as soon as they leave your lips. You really don’t need to get tied up with your neighbour. “Though I have no DIY knowledge, so would probably be no help.”

He doesn’t look put off by your obvious U-turn. “I’ll keep you in mind.”

And you’re screwed. Honestly, is that all it takes? A good-looking guy, some smiles at you and your son and a bit of kindness? Rosie is right, it’s been way too long if a simple smile turns you on.

“Mummy.”

And just like that it’s broken. You bite back the warning of being careful running down the cement paved ally with the ball in his hands. Instead, just smile at your beaming son.

“You found it. Good job. Now come on, I’m sure,” your words slope off, only just realising you have no idea what your neighbours name is.

You look up at him and he fills in your silence with his name, “Jungkook.”

“Right. I’m sure Jungkook has things to do,” you say to Zac. “What do we say now?”

Zac goes a little timid again, squeezing the ball to his chest. “Thank you,” he mumbles before twisting and running back to your house.

“Sorry,” you wince, turning back to Jungkook. “And thank you.”

“It was nothing.”

“Well, thanks anyway,” you grow awkward and decide now is the time to follow your sons lead. “I guess I’ll see you around.”

“I’m sure you will,” he smiles back at you.

Twisting you start walking back to your house, already trying to forget everything that just happened. When you’re safe in the walls of your house you pull your phone out and type out a message to Rosie.

This is why I didn’t want to meet my neighbour.

As usual, it only takes a few seconds for her response to come – you swear she’s attached to her phone.

Tell. Me. Everything.

There’s a knock on your door. You leave Zac colouring on the kitchen table so you can go answer it. You feel relaxed until you see who’s there. Your whole body going taunt at the sight of Jungkook at your door. Mind flicking through the possible reasons for him to be here.

“Hey, I was wondering if you wanted me to mow your lawns?”

It takes you aback, you’re pretty sure you might even recoil a little from the seemingly simple question. It might take a second but you end up smiling, have to bite your lip to hide how amused you are. It’s half due to how nervous he looks on your doorstep, but more because of Rosie and your conversation from when you first saw him. He must take your beat of silence the wrong way if his increased twitchiness is anything to go by.

“I was just doing mine and thought yours needed doing,” he almost cuts himself off in his haste to clarify. “Not that it looks bad or anything. Just that it could do with a cut. Or more that it saves you the job. And as I was already out doing mine, I thought it would –”

You properly laugh now. Loud enough to cut Jungkook’s ramblings off. He looks like he’s about to throw the towel in and head home but you stop him with a wave of your hand.

“Sorry,” you continue to laugh. “It’s just … of course you can mow my lawn.”

There’s a beat and then Jungkook’s face is turning more serious, a hint of amusement in his eyes as his head cocks to the side. Oh, god. Maybe that sounded like too much of an innuendo. You stand up straight, the laughter dying on your lips.

“I just mean I won’t be offended.”

“Ok,” he says, positions swapped, him amused and you awkward. “Need anything else doing while I’m here?”

“Uh,” you look behind you into the house as if to check before looking back at him. His smile seems to have grown in those few seconds. “Nope. I think we’re all good.”

“Just the lawns then,” he grins, seeming to relax into his position in your door.

“Just the lawns,” you squeak. “Please.”

He nods but still lingers. How does someone go from a rambling nervous mess to this? Though you’ve passed each other coming and going, this is the first time the two of you have properly spoken since Zac kicked his ball over the fence. You wouldn’t have predicted it would go like this.

“Want me to do the back too?”

You almost choke. “If it’s no trouble?”

He shrugs. “As I’m here.”

“Ok,” you look behind you again, for an escape, for a reason to look away from those shining eyes and cocky smile. You’re pretty sure he’s one of these guys that realises the effect he has on people and enjoys it. “Want me to bring you out a coffee or something?”

“I’m good. I’ll just get on with it.”

“Ok, well, thank you.”

“No problem, Y/N.”

You close the door and resist the urge to collapse on the floor.

“If you kick it too hard, you’re going to have to get it,” you warn as you do another light kick of the ball in Zac’s direction.

As if in spite of your words or maybe because it’s no fun not kicking the ball hard, Zac launches the ball in your direction. Still, you laugh as you manage to leap to the side and stop the ball before it goes off down the hill behind you.

“Maybe we should go and play in the back garden?”

“No,” Zac half screams the word. “There’s horrible fences there.”

He’s referencing the time he kicked the ball over the fence and then had to go collect it. Apparently it was such a jarring experience that he doesn’t like playing there anymore, though you would have thought being able to go in the neighbours garden would be exciting for him.

“Ok, then we have to kick a little softer.”

He follows your request a few times before once again deciding playing by your rules is boring. You let it go for a bit, giggling along with Zac as you leap and try and save each of his kicks. You do a few of your own rouge kicks just so he has to run a little and it gives you a minutes piece. Award for mum of the year over here.

You’re shouting something about how great one of Zac’s kicks is when you hear a door slam. You don’t think too much of it until you hear a voice shouting out.

“Already training for the Premier League?”

You look over to the voice and are met with a beaming Jungkook slowly walking towards you, baggy trousers and just as baggy a top blowing in the breeze. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him not smiling.

“I think we still have a way to go if that’s the aim,” you joke back, looking back at Zac just in time to see him kick a ball that goes miles to your right. Luckily, it’s not a missile like some of his others, but it still feels embarrassing having to jog after the ball with Jungkook now as an audience.

By the time you have the ball back in possession and are back to where you were once stood Jungkook is only meters away. Still smiling and you catch the end of him telling Zac what a great kick he just did. He goes shy, something you always find funny as he’s always a screaming ball of energy around you and other’s he knows, you love seeing this other side of him. Still, it means you need to hold the confidence for both of you.

“Is there room for one more?”

The question takes you off guard, even though he’s made the effort to walk the short distance to be stood here.

“Uh, sure,” you say then look at Zac. “That’s ok, isn’t it Zac?”

Zac doesn’t look sure but luckily he’s currently too shy to dispute you. You also don’t give him much time to disagree with you, lightly kick the ball in Zac’s direction before he can think.

He’s gentler when he kicks it back to you, his aim surprisingly good for once. You feel a small amount of pressure when you kick the ball to Jungkook, trying to include him. It feels like when you were once in school and were laughed at for throwing the rounders ball miles off the mark. It doesn’t go badly, though Jungkook has to step a little to his left to pick it up under his feet, he expertly flicks it between his feet and then knocks it on to Zac.

Zac looks mesmerised by the simple move that you’d never be able to replicate. You can see his nerves slowly cracking with a small smile going to his lips. He still kicks the ball to you, but as the game goes on and as you and Jungkook try to change the direction a few times, Zac finally completely lets loose.

He’s giggling and doing big kicks again. He’s laughing at Jungkook doing more little tricks with the ball before he kicks it on. And he even starts to shout little bits, imitating the words the Jungkook cries out, what a save, that was close, such a good touch.

Soon enough you’re out, you’ve lost your son to your neighbour and a football. Neither of them are kicking the ball anymore, their running at each other trying to do tackles. At least Jungkook seems to realise he’s playing a four-year-old and not someone his age, his tackles are light and he always kicks the ball a little too far and is a little too slow to pick it back up letting Zac get it.

“I’ll go get us some drinks,” you say to seemingly no one. But you don’t really care because your son looks so happy.

His laughs fill up the street as you make your way back to the house and when you look back you watch as Jungkook tackles him and lifts him up into the air, easily tossing him around in the sky making Zac laugh even harder.

You may take a little longer than necessary to make the drinks.

You’re out-front playing with Zac again. Well, less playing and more sat on the curb watching Zac play. You’ve had a day at work, still need to cook yours and Zac’s dinner but you promised you’d come out and do something first. Given Zac is a ball of energy it’s better to let him get all of that out now, so he’ll go to sleep earlier. That’s always the aim anyway, sometimes it’s just not the reality.

The back garden apparently isn’t good enough for him now. After playing out front and Jungkook joining him on more than one occasion you think he secretly hopes that’s going to happen every time. He doesn’t outright ask for it, but you know your son and you can see the utter joy whenever he gets to play with your neighbour.

You watch Zac run around with one of his teddy’s, rambling on about how the dinosaur is going to get them so they have to go to the volcano.

Even if you’re not necessarily playing with Zac, you love this time spent with him. It’s always just been the two of you and though that’s been hard at times, there’s never been a moment you’ve truly regretted it. You thought you loved his dad, but that was nothing compared to what you feel for Zac.

The sound of a car pulls your attention from Zac. It’s rounding the corner onto your road, still far enough and going slow enough to not panic you, but you know Zac will be oblivious.

“Zac,” you shout, standing up. “Zac. There’s a car coming, you have to wait on that side of the road for it to pass.”

Zac looks over at you, wide-eyed as he takes in the information. You can’t deny that your heart swells a little at the fact he so obediently runs to the side of the road, even picks the side that’s closest which is opposite you.

You smile at him as the car gets closer but it stops before reaching you. You can see the confusion on Zac’s face about what he should do. The car’s stopped but it’s still so close, is he allowed to continue to play?

“It’s ok Zac,” you say just as the door to the car opens.

Zac runs along the pavement for a second, obviously still not entirely sure, but when the car door opens, he must deem that good enough to know the car’s not going to move again and runs out into the road.

You watch him for a second before glancing at who got out the car. You smile at the woman you’ve never seen before. Dressed in a nice skirt and top, you shouldn’t be surprised when she makes her way to your neighbour’s house. You look away as she goes up his drive and rings the bell; it’s none of your business who Jungkook chooses to spend his time with.

Zac obviously doesn’t feel the same.

“Jungkook,” your son shouts out the name, the k sound more like a g and the last one isn’t pronounced so it sounds more like Jun-goo then anything.

Still your neighbour looks over at the shout. His guest too. Now stood on the doorway, in the middle of greeting each other. Jungkook instantly smiles while it takes the woman a second longer. You just feel mortified.

“Zac, darling, I think he has a guest.”

“But I want to play.”

You glance over at your neighbour’s front door; both are still looking at you and though you’re sure they can hear your conversation they seem to be having their own more silent conversation. You feel hot when you look back at Zac. Though you shouldn’t feel embarrassed, you somehow do.

“He can’t play right now because –”

You’re cut off by a scream that sounds like the name Jungkook as Zac goes running in his direction. Truly mortified now you turn to jog after him, calling his name as you go. You manage to catch up to him as he reaches Jungkook’s lawn, place a hand on his shoulder to try and settle him.

“Zac,” you say firmly but as quietly as you can. Jungkook and the woman can definitely here you, you’re only a few meters away, but you’d rather they didn’t. “You don’t run away from me like that and you don’t cut me off when I’m telling you something.”

He looks wide-eyed up at you, lip pouted as if there are about to be water works soon. He’s at the age where everything he asks, he assumes he can get. No isn’t a word unless he’s saying it. And when you tell him anything other than yes, he gets stroppy. It’s a cute age, but it’s tough.

“I just want to play,” Zac mumbles.

You hold your hands out in a silent question that he accepts. Leaning down you pick him up under the arms. It’s more like lifting some weights at the gym then the baby you once had but settled onto your hip and arms cuddling your side make it all worth it. You’re about to speak words of comfort to him before apologising to Jungkook and his guest but a different voice changes that.

“It’s ok,” you look up to see Jungkook stepping towards you, the girl in his entry way looking at you over his shoulder. “I’d love to play with you too, Zac, but I can’t right now. Can I maybe play with you a different night?”

You feel Zac’s head nod against your chest where it’s lay. You run a soothing hand down his arm while you shoot Jungkook an apologetic look.

“You really don’t have to do –”

“No, I mean it. I love playing with Zac.”

You doubt the twenty something year old really enjoys playing with your four-year-old son. Especially as it has just become apparent he has a girlfriend. But the way he says it and the way he smiles; you can almost believe it.

“Well, we need to get in and cook dinner anyway don’t we, Zac.”

There’s another small nod against you and you look between Jungkook and the girl again. You feel so incredibly awkward, though Jungkook looks a little worried if anything.

“Sorry, for ruining the start of your evening,” you say to them both, twisting and carrying Zac back to your house before you can gain a reply. You’ll distract Zac with food. Your own embarrassment might be harder to hide.

“Hey, let me help you with that.”

The weights that were your shopping bags are lifted out of your hands before you can protest. Soft, warm fingers run along yours to grasp the handles and then they’re gone. You turn to look at the man responsible.

“Jungkook, you really don’t have to,” but it’s like you’re talking to a wall, or more a back, as Jungkook has already turned and is heading to your front door.

“You get the others and it’ll be done in half the time,” he says over his shoulder.

You huff, still not exactly happy with the assumption you needed help, but you don’t audibly protest as you pick up the last remaining bag and follow Jungkook.

“You really don’t have to –”

“Just unlock the door,” Jungkook cuts you off, giving you a small smile and adding. “These bags are starting to get heavy.”

You roll your eyes as you do as asked, placing your bag on the floor before unlocking your front door and letting Jungkook in. He waits for you to come in before he follows you to the kitchen.

“You can just place them here,” you say before turning to look at him.

He’s all smiles again and you’re not sure why you’re so irked by the whole thing. You should be thanking him, but it’s more about what he’s slowly started to make you realise. Zac doesn’t have a man in his life and Jungkook creeping in even in these small ways has made you see how much that might be affecting him. Jungkook hasn’t done much, he’s played football out front with your son, he’s smiled and told him jokes in passing, he’s asked him a few simple questions about his life. And yet your son has lit up with every interaction.

It's ever since the incident the other day when Zac went running to him that got you thinking. You thought you were embarrassed because it looked like you couldn’t control your child, but since you’ve realised that it’s more because you’d started to get used to Jungkook in the same small ways as Zac and seeing him with a woman, presumably his girlfriend, made you realise that Jungkook probably doesn’t feel the same way. You’re just his neighbour and Zac’s just a cute kid. It’s not like you’re dating, or he owes you anything, but having had no help outside your family and Rosie since Zac was born has made even the small gestures massive.

You thought you were enough for Zac. You knew that you were possibly stopping him from experiencing something by staying single or not letting any of the men you’d dated briefly into Zac’s life, but you didn’t think it would matter. And yet so little from Jungkook has shown you how much it can mean.

You don’t mean to be rude or short with him, but these simple acts of kindness are starting to feel like an agenda. Like he’s out to prove that you’re not everything Zac needs.

You can make your son happy on your own. You can play ball with him and have fun and ask him questions about what he likes. You can carry bags into your house on your own; you’ve cooked and cleaned and worked and kept yours and Zac’s lives together longer than Jungkook’s been around. And yet Zac has never run to you the way he ran to Jungkook the other day.

“Zac not here today?”

“His Nan is looking after him.”

You can sense him looking down at you as you start to unpack your shopping. “That must be nice for them both.”

“Yep,” you say popping the p. “Certainly is.”

The silence elongates, tension rising in the gap. You can sense Jungkook watching you even though you don’t look at him as you start to unpack your food. You hear his feet shuffle on the lino floor and can see him leaning against the door frame out of the corner of your eye.

You should break it, should say something and stop being so childish, but you find you can’t, the longer it goes on the more it builds in your head. It’s as if every male that’s been in your life who hasn’t been interested in meeting Zac, everyone that you didn’t feel comfortable meeting Zac, every insecurity you had about stopping Zac from having the chance of a male figure in his life, has built up into Jungkook.

Still, you don’t ask him to leave, don’t say anything, just silently unpack as Jungkook watches you.

“Is everything alright?” It’s Jungkook that finally speaks.

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

“You just seem a little upset is all.”

“I’m fine.”

“Ok. Let me clarify, you seem a little upset with me,” he pauses, when you don’t reply he carries on. “Have I done something to annoy you?”

“Nothing,” you say finally looking at him.

“Just tell me Y/N,” he looks a little pissed himself now and you realise how unfair you’re being. You can think all these things and build it up in your head and realise how stupid you’re being, but to take it out on Jungkook and then not explain why; that’s not fair.

“I just don’t appreciate you coming in and treating me like I can’t lift some shopping bags on my own is all.”

“I never said you couldn’t do it alone. I offered you help.”

“Yeah, ok, it’s fine. I’m overreacting,” you say in a tone to imply the opposite.

“No, come on. That’s not everything, what is it?”

You pause, wondering how much to tell him. “I’ve been looking after myself and Zac far longer than I’ve known you.”

“I know that.”

“So you can stop coming into our lives and being Mr Perfect,” you wave your hands at his whole person at the words.

He laughs, shaking his head. “Mr Perfect?”

“Carrying my shopping in and playing with Zac and acting like you have your whole life together and we don’t.”

“I really don’t know how you got that impression. My life isn’t together. And I enjoy playing with Zac and being around you, but if you’re uncomfortable with that then I can stop.”

You sigh, mentally slap yourself as you twist and pull a chair out. Plonking yourself down you run a hand down your face. When you make eye contact with Jungkook again his face still holds annoyance, but he looks a little softer now.

“Sorry,” you start, body slumping with the all the fight leaving you. “I’m being ridiculous. You don’t make me uncomfortable playing with Zac, I guess I just realised how much he’s grown to like you and yet I hardly know you.” You pause then add with a small smile. “Though you really do look like you have your whole life together.”

Your comment seems to be enough to break the tension. Jungkook chuckles again, this time looking more genuine. He takes the couple of steps to close the distance between you and pulls a chair out so he can sit.

“Well, the first thing I can tell you is I really do not have my life together,” he doesn’t speak as loudly now you’re sat with no background clattering and the wide smile he shoots you has you looking down at your lap to hide your smile. “And you know, maybe we should get to know each other better. We’re neighbours for one, but I honestly do love Zac and if it would make you feel more comfortable then I can do a whole DBS check.”

You look at him, smile wider on your face. He seems to relax at the look, less tense now you’re no longer being annoyed with him.

“You don’t have to do a DBS check,” you assure him. “I guess it’s just been a really long day and my insecurities got the better of me. Sorry.”

“Really?”

“What? Been a long day or are you struggling to believe I have insecurities?”

His eyebrow lifts and you swear his cheeks tint pink. “Well, both I guess.”

“I arrived at work to a snotty email from someone telling me how to do my job and then I didn’t have time to buy lunch so had to have one of the crappy cafeteria sandwiches. To top it all off I had to go food shopping, arguably one of the worst chores.”

Jungkook smiles, nods and waits. You’d kind of hoped you’d be able to sweep the whole insecurities bit under the rug. Guess Jungkook is taking the whole getting to know each other seriously.

“As for insecurities,” you begin, words elongated as you grow more awkward. “I mean doesn’t everyone have them? But, uh, yeah. I mean Zac’s dad has never been in his life and I’ve never properly dated anyone since having him, or at least never thought anyone was good enough to introduce him to. And I’ve always wondered if I’m somehow stopping him from having a second parent.”

Jungkook cocks his head to the side. A small movement as if he’s deep in thought at your comment. Before he can say anything though you let out a small laugh and try to move on.

“Anyway, at least I have lots of food in the house now.”

“Zac’s not missing out on anything.”

The smile dies on your lips. The words are so deadly seriously. Like he means every word. You feel yourself heating even though he’s probably just saying it because he thinks it’s what you want to hear.

“You’re an amazing mum, Y/N. Zac isn’t missing out on anything by just having one parent.”

“Thanks,” you continue to flush. “You really don’t have to say that, but thanks anyway.”

“I don’t have to say it. But I mean it.”

“Well, ok, thanks. Moving on,” you say. “Can I get you something to drink to fully apologise?”

“I wouldn’t say no to a tea.”

You nod, getting up to turn the kettle on. You’ve got an hour of your mum looking after Zac before you’ve got to pick him up. Time you were hoping to spend on tasks you actually need to get done around the house. You can’t retract your offer though and as you settle into easy conversation you find you don’t want to.

An hour passes easily with your neighbour. Laughing and drinking your teas you find you have more in common than you’d have guessed. He’s a similar age to you, took the house on next door because it was within budget, big and something he could easily do up. You normally find that people around your age feel so different in age, are at different stage in their lives as you have so much responsibility in looking after Zac and they’ve just got themselves. But Jungkook feels different. It’s still just him and you can tell by some of the things he says that he’s considering things in his life you couldn’t, but he’s bought a house, has committed to doing it up, has a steady job he wants to progress in. He’s settled. It’s small things but you find your respect towards him grows as well as the amount you like him.

An hour later, you leave him with a wave as you head to your car and he takes the short walk back to his house.

“Oh, who’s that?”

You fight the urge to look as soon as the words leave Rosie’s mouth. You still don’t want to appear too keen around her. Though you and Jungkook have grown closer, there’s still nothing between you and you still don’t want her getting the wrong impression.

“Who’s who?” You ask, playing oblivious.

She waves you over, doesn’t even turn to look at you. She’s in much the same position as when you first spied Jungkook. Body leaning over the back of the sofa, face almost pressed against the glass of your front window. If anyone were to look at your house, her face would be front and centre and while you imagine you’d die at being caught watching your neighbours so plainly, you imagine Rosie wouldn’t care, she’d probably wave at them.

“Just come look. Some girl is going to Jungkook’s.”

“Oh right, that’s probably his girlfriend,” you say flatly, unbothered, though you still make your way over to where she’s sat to take a look yourself.

“He has a girlfriend?”

The question goes straight through you as you watch the girl in question walking up his drive. Ok, maybe it’s not his girlfriend because this girl has different coloured hair, her skin is slightly darker, she’s shorter, just as beautiful as the other girl you saw, but she is not the same person.

“Of course he has the hottest girlfriend.”

The words pang even though you shouldn’t care, you shouldn’t even be looking out the window at her, yet you find yourself leaning forward to get a better angle to try and see Jungkook’s front door. Is he there? How’s he going to greet her?

“That’s not his girlfriend,” you reply.

“What? He’s cheating on her?” Rosie’s interest peaks, if possible.

“No. I mean, I don’t know,” you try to explain, Rosie looking at you with a frown. “I don’t know if he has a girlfriend. Someone came to his house the other week and I just assumed, but that’s not her.”

Rosie hums, focus going back outside. “Well, that makes sense.”

“It does?”

“A man that hot does not just settle down. He’s a player.”

“Right,” you say flatly, trying to keep the disappointment out of your voice.

“And I mean, with a body like that, why wouldn’t he?”

“Careful not to get your drool on my window,” you say as you push yourself to stand, no longer interested in watching whatever’s happening out front.

You go back to whatever you were doing before, trying to get the image of the girl out of your mind. You shouldn’t care. But it only seems to add to everything in your mind, becomes another reason in your mind to not get too close to the man.

“Who the hell talked me into this?” You mutter to yourself as you apply the last bit of lip gloss.

Stepping back, looking at yourself in the mirror, you have to admit you scrub up nice. When you make a bit of an effort you don’t look half bad.

You’ve not been on a proper date in a couple of months. Life has been busy and it’s not been top of your list of things to do, but when someone at work said they knew someone they thought you’d get on with you reluctantly said you’d meet them. Maybe not reluctant, you’re excited to date, to have a night out with someone that isn’t Rosie, to enjoy yourself. There’s just still niggles in your mind about the whole thing.

You’ve still got half an hour before you need to leave. Your taxi booked, completely dressed and ready to go, Zac in bed, all you need now is Rosie to turn up to baby sit for a few hours.

You’ve only managed to take a single breath to try and calm yourself and have a couple of sips of the glass of wine you decided to pour yourself when your phone rings. Rosie’s name pops up on your screen and you smile as you answer it.

“Don’t tell me you’re going to be late.”

“Uh, worse, possibly.”

You sit up straight, move your glass of wine so you don’t accidentally knock it. “What do you mean possibly?”

“Ok, definitely,” Rosie sounds nervous, and you’re not surprised given the desire to kill her right about now. “But, honestly, it’s unavoidable. My car’s died and I thought I could get a taxi but the quote I got was for £50 one way and I’m not saying you’re not worth it, but, on top of it all my mum called and she’s not feeling great and I just thought I’d see if you really need me or if someone else could possibly step in, just for tonight?”

You resist the urge to wipe a hand down your face or pull at your hair; you’d just spent ages so you could look like this. But it sounds like it doesn’t even matter, the date obviously wasn’t supposed to happen. You check the clock, it’s still twenty minutes until your taxi should arrive, still forty minutes until your date.

“I’ll cancel, it’s fine, go be with your mum.”

“What? No, don’t cancel.”

“What am I supposed to do instead?”

“Can’t your mum look after Zac instead?”

“She has book club tonight.”

“Your brother?” She says, her tone already implying she doesn’t hold much hope there.

“Away on business.”

“What about someone from work?”

“Rosie. Honestly, it’s fine.”

“Jungkook,” the name throws you so off you don’t respond immediately. “What about Jungkook?”

“I can’t ask my neighbour to look after my son.”

“Why? They seem to get on great and Zac will be asleep the whole time anyway.”

“He’s probably busy.”

“But you don’t know. You should go ask before you rule him out.”

You chew at the inside of your cheek, torn. You really don’t want to ask Jungkook, but Rosie makes a good point. She seems to cotton onto the weakness and pushes.

“Please, Y/N. I feel so guilty that you might have to cancel this date because of me. I’d ask Jungkook myself, but I don’t have his number. I could find him on Facebook though, just have to hope he sees the message in time but I’m –”

“Ok,” you blurt to stop her.

“Ok? You want me to message him?”

“No,” you sigh, not believing what you’re about to say. “I’ll go round and see if he’s free.”

You can almost see the beaming smile that Rosie is surely sporting. She doesn’t let you hang around on the phone for much longer now you’ve made the decision she wanted. A quick comment to let her know how it goes and a goodbye and she’s gone.

Your eyes flick to the clock as if it’s going to hold some sort of information that’ll help you out. It doesn’t. Just tells you what you already know; you have less than fifteen minutes till your taxi arrives.

Nerves at an all time high you decide the whole thing will only take five minutes either way so Zac is ok in bed. Leaving the door open, you make the short trip from your house to Jungkook’s.

Are you really doing this?

You can hear the noise of the doorbell going around the house. It seems you are doing it.

Sweat builds on your palms. Heat seems to leave your body while gathering in your face. Your throat feels so tight that you wonder if you’ll be able to get any words out if Jungkook answers. Seconds feel like minutes and then when you hear his footsteps approaching they seem to thunder.

The door swings open. You watch in silence as his face goes from curious, to eyes wide in recognition, to a steady sweep of your body. His eyes are still wide when they meet yours but there’s something else in them now as well as a slight flush to his cheeks.

You’re too nervous to take much notice.

“Hey,” you start, but begin talking too fast for Jungkook to say anything. “So, I know this is asking a lot and I want to say straight away that if you’re busy, or if you just don’t want to then please don’t feel like you have to say yes. But I have a date tonight, hence the outfit, and my childcare has cancelled on me and I was wondering, if you’re free, if you could maybe look after Zac? All you’d have to do it is just sit downstairs and listen out for if he wakes up. Again, it’s fine if you don’t want to.”

His cheeks are still pink but there’s a smile on his face now. You honestly have no idea what he’s going to say.

“Y/N, I honestly don’t mind looking after Zac while you go on your date.”

The shock, the relief, the surprise; whatever he see’s pass your face makes a low chuckle leave his lips.

“Do I need to bring anything with me?”

“Uh, no. Not unless there’s something you need?”

His smile is gentle and kind as he looks at you. “Let me just grab my keys so I can lock up.”

You wait the few seconds it takes for him to grab his keys and then watch as he locks his door. You still feel weird as you wait for him, still nervous just in a different way now.

It’s silent as you walk side by side back to your house. You feel unable to look at Jungkook, though you can feel him glancing at you.

“You look nice by the way.”

“Oh, thanks,” your nerves seem to give Jungkook confidence.

“Where’s your date?”

“Just at The Botanist.”

“That’ll be nice. Is it a first date or ..?”

“Yep, first date,” you say as you enter your house. “So, there’s drinks in the fridge and help yourself to any food you find.”

“You might regret saying that,” Jungkook jokes but you’re struggling to find much funny with your emotions all over the place at the moment.

“And I’ll give you my number if anything goes wrong. Like I said he shouldn’t wake up but if he does you can give him some hot milk or read him a book.”

“We’ll be fine, Y/N,” Jungkook’s voice is calm as he leans against the wall and watches you shuffle around the room. “If Zac wakes up, I’m sure I’ll cope. I’m sure I’ll be able to find anything I need and work the TV. My house is literally meters away and like you said I can just call you if I need.”

You still feel almost shaky. You trust Jungkook but it’s one thing to leave him playing with your son for ten minutes out front and wholly different to leave him home alone for a few hours. Still, you trust him and know he’ll be fine.

“Just go and enjoy your date,” Jungkook continues. “Are you nervous?”

“I – yeah,” you admit. “It’s my first date in a while.”

“Well, you really do look great. You have nothing to worry about.”

“Thanks, Jungkook,” you say softly, meaning it for so many different reasons.

“It’s fine. Now, go on, get out of here.”

You do one last sweep of the room, slip your shoes on at the door and the linger for a second. Jungkook’s already made himself at home on the sofa, smile still on his face as he watches you. Your hand pauses on the door. It still feels weird to be leaving. But you give Jungkook a nod and head out the door.

Your key slips on the lock. You sway gently side to side. Closing your eyes, you take a long, slow breath. When you open your eyes, the world is still spinning.

You try the key again. Fingers fumble, it takes a second, but you manage to get the key where you need it. You turn the key, but it doesn’t go as far as you expect. Your hand goes to the handle, you pull down and tumble forward into your house.

Giggling you pull your key out of the door. Why did you think the door was locked? Of course it wasn’t locked.

You bite your lip as you right yourself and try not to slam the door closed. You need to be quiet, Zac’s asleep upstairs and you’d hate to be the reason for waking him up.

You make the mistake of trying to balance on one foot as you take your shoe off. It doesn’t last much longer than a second, you sway so hard that you have to throw your arm out to grab the wall so you don’t wipe out on the floor. You keep hold of the wall as you safely remove your shoes this time.

Shoving your bag on the table by your door you close your eyes for a second, take another breath and then will yourself to go get a glass of water before bed.

It takes you far longer than it should to realise you’re being watched. Are stumbling through your living room to your kitchen when you spot him and you jump in the air.

“Fuck,” you curse, clutching a hand to your heart. “Jungkook. What the hell?”

“Have you had a nice night?”

You huff, a noise that sounds half like a no and half like a yes. “It was ok.”

Jungkook laughs and moves on the sofa so he’s sat up straighter. “That sounds like a rave review.”

You close your eyes and throw your head back. Water forgotten you move towards Jungkook instead, plopping down on the sofa next to him. Your eyes feel heavy but you feel awake enough to talk to Jungkook for a while.

“It was good.”

“But?” Jungkook turns towards you as you lean your head back on the cushions.

“Just that it was just good.”

Jungkook hums and you turn your head on your neck to look at him. He’s closer than you thought but it doesn’t make you pull away from him, however much that wide smile makes your heart stutter.

“You must know what I mean.”

His head cocks to the side. “And why would that be?”

“Because you’re always going off on dates,” the alcohol is loosening your lips, you’d never say anything of this if you hadn’t drunk.

“How much have you had to drink?” He laughs.

“I don’t know,” you shrug. “It was two for one.”

“So that’s what made it a good night?”

You giggle, the noise escaping you with little to no warning. “No, the guy was nice too.”

“Was that opinion formed before or after the alcohol was consumed?”

This time you reach round and slap his arm as you laugh. It pushes you closer to him, the knee you have folded on the sofa pushing into his leg. Your hand lingers on his arm and he doesn’t push you away. You feel the heat coming off him and realise what you’re doing. You pull away and the heat transfers from your hand to your face.

“God, sorry, maybe I’m more drunk than I thought.”

You pull away, twist so you’re facing forward again. Now you think about it your head is really spinning. Looking after Zac tomorrow is going to be fun.

“Want me to get you some water?” Jungkook’s asking the question even as he stands to do just that.

You watch him walk away from you and disappear into the kitchen. He looks so at home.

You close your eyes again and rest your head against the back of the sofa. Water sounds good, maybe it’ll clear your head a little, because now you think about it, being drunk and loose lipped around Jungkook probably isn’t the best decision.

“Here you go.”

A pint of water is in front of you when you open your eyes. You sit up straighter, hold your hand out to take the glass and then down nearly half of it before taking sips from it instead. Jungkook is still stood in front of you, a small smile on his lips as he looks down at you.

“Better?” You nod at the question and Jungkook’s lip curls at the edge. “You ok to look after Zac like this?”

“I’m not that drunk.”

“Ok,” he says with a small laugh, as if he doesn’t quite believe you. “I’ll leave you and Zac alone then.”

He only moves a little, is only standing up straighter, but the movement coupled with the words is enough for you to panic and reach out and grab his hand. Or more grab his wrist. And because he doesn’t move you can slip your fingers lower and land on their intended target.

“Wait. Don’t go.”

His smile has slipped now, his face flat as he stares down at you. He’s not gripping your hand back. You suddenly feel a lot more sober, feel like you’ve made a mistake.

“You’ve not told me how your night was yet,” you say in a much softer tone, your hand slipping out of his.

“I haven’t heard anything from Zac. I even went to look in his room to make sure he was actually there. He’s been fast asleep while I’ve watched trash TV all night.”

You nod, feel like you’re turning into a nodding dog at this point. But you don’t know what else to say. You’ve just asked him to stay and that short, closed sentence is clearly him telling you he’s heading home.

“Well, thanks so much for looking after him.”

“It was no trouble.”

You look up at him, wait for him to move, to leave you sat here alone. But he still doesn’t. It gives you enough confidence to keep talking, or maybe the silence is just eating too much into you that you feel a need to fill it.

“Do you want me to pay you?”

His eyebrows shoot up his head and you giggle, realising what he must be thinking and go on to clarify.

“I mean for babysitting.”

“Oh, no. I was only going to be sat next door doing the same thing anyway.”

“Right,” you swallow, mind whirling. “Well, I still feel a need to pay you back some way.”

“You really don’t need to do anything.”

“But you’ve done so much for me and Zac since moving in.”

“I’ve told you before I like playing with Zac.”

“And the mowing our grass?”

“It only makes sense when I’m already doing mine.”

“What if I want to pay you back?”

“I don’t want anything from you.”

“Nothing?”

He pauses, his eyes dark as he looks down at you. The air seems to thicken and though you don’t know how, you know you’ve got him.

His eyes follow as you push yourself to stand up. He doesn’t move to give you space as you come toe to toe with him. His eyes flick around your face as yours remain steady on his. You don’t touch him straight away, but you get close enough that all you’d need to do is lean forward and you’d be against him.

The silence feels loud now, both of you holding your ground, the anticipation rising.

“Are you sure you want this?” He swallows his eyes flicking to your lips.

Subconsciously you sweep your tongue along your bottom lip and are rewarded with Jungkook unable to take his eyes off the movement.

If you were completely sober maybe you wouldn’t be so brash. If you hadn’t just been on a rubbish date, thinking about how much better it could be if only the person sat opposite you was the man currently stood in front of you, maybe you wouldn’t be this bold. If Jungkook hadn’t been so kind, so thoughtful, so good looking, maybe you wouldn’t be doing what you’re about to do, maybe you’d be thinking twice about what a mistake it could turn out to be.

You close the gap, move slowly to let Jungkook back away if he wants. But he doesn’t. When you’re close enough, he places his hands on your hips and pulls you into him.

He tastes salty, like crisps. His lips mould to yours the way your body moulds against his. Your back arches up into him, his hand goes to the small of your back and his tongue slips into your mouth.

“Are you sure about this?” Jungkook whispers again.

You don’t have time to answer, now you’ve kissed him, you want all of him. You twist both of you so that when you push yourself into him and he has to take a step back, his knees hit the sofa. His eyes are wide, full of surprise as he lowers himself backwards. You don’t let yourself be shocked, this is so unlike you, but honestly you don’t care or overthink it.

Placing a knee either side of Jungkook you straddle him, place your lips back on his as you grind down into him. His hands fall to your hips again, squeeze the flesh there every time you drag yourself over his length. You can feel him, all of him, hard and long, pushing up against his joggers and right into you.

You need him. Now.

All rational goes out the window as you push yourself up enough to try and push his trousers down. Before you can get very far, Jungkook’s hands are encompassing your wrists, stopping you. He doesn’t seem angry when you look at him, there’s only an amused smile on his lips.

“What’s the rush?”

“I –” you pause, it’s enough time for you to come back to reality and realise how desperate you must look right now. You plop yourself backwards, sit on Jungkook’s knees as his hands slip from your wrists to encompass your hands. “I don’t know. Sorry.”

He pulls your forward enough to kiss your lips. You can feel the smile is still there.

“Let me at least go get a condom,” he mumbles.

You let out an embarrassed huff of air, your face scrunching in mortification while Jungkook just chuckles. He moves his hands to your hips, pushes you up and then gently gets you to lay on the sofa while he stands. You look up at him, embarrassed, but still don’t want him to leave.

“I’ll only be a minute,” he says before disappearing from view.

You’re left in the silence of your own embarrassment. Lay on the sofa you keep replaying the last ten minutes over in your head. Sure, it was great, kissing Jungkook has definitely exceeded expectations so far. But what must he think of you? Pouncing on him after a failed date.

You place your hands over your face and let out a small groan, missing the noise of the front door quietly closing.

“Don’t tell me you carried on without me?”

You peel your hands off your face, look up surprised to see Jungkook back. Part of you honestly thought that was an excuse to up and run. But there he is, beaming down at you, small foil packet in hand.

“You still wanna?” His voice drifts off, unsure.

You’re still in shock. But a quick glance down shows that he isn’t lying. His trousers are still straining at the groin.

You look back at his face, suddenly feeling very hot. You nod. Jungkook smiles.

“Good,” he mutters before taking his top off. “Because you still owe me.”

You watch as he takes his trousers off, leaving him only in his boxers. And then he kneels before you. Hand on either knee, he twists you so that your feet hit the floor and you’re sat in front of him. As he toys with the hem of your dress, you dutifully lift your arms to let him know he can take it off.

His eyes are near black, focused purely on your chest and the light lace that is covering you, when your dress is on the floor.

“Were you hoping to go home with him?” His voice is as dark as his voice, a husky quality to it that has you clenching around nothing.

“No,” you say honestly, the word enough to have Jungkook drag his eyes up to yours. “I wore it to feel good.”

He nods. His eyes flicking back down to admire your body. You feel good, slightly self-conscious but you must admit that it feels nice to have Jungkook look at you with that much lust on his face.

His hands reach out, lightly run down your sides at the same rate as his eyes. He toys with your lacy pants for a second, eyes flicking up to yours before he starts to pull them down. You lift yourself up a little to help him and then they’re joining your dress on the floor.

Your breaths come out faster. Your head leaning back into your sofa as Jungkook places his hands on your knees and pushes them apart.

How is this happening?

You can’t believe this is happening.

You can’t pull your eyes away from the sight of Jungkook’s head moving towards you. You swear you’ve had a wet dream about it. And now it’s happening.

His tongue is just as delicate as his fingers as he swipes it through your folds. His hands hold firm on your knees as you try to clamp them together around his head. You can feel his smile as his lips go to your clit, his tongue drawing patterns of the bundles of nerves.

When he deems it safe to, one of his hands moves from your knee and with his lips still on your clit, he begins to push into your entrance.

Your hand flies to his head, pushing him further into you while fisting the strands of hair on his head. You moan at the ceiling and push your hips further into Jungkook.

It feels amazing. He feels amazing.

When he pushes another finger into you the coil in your stomach only grows tighter. You moan out again and then realise that the two of you aren’t alone in this house.

“We’ve got to be quiet. Zac’s upstairs,” your voice is breathy, almost husky.

There’s a mumbled noise against your skin, hopefully in recognition of what you’ve said. And despite your words it’s you that’s the noisiest. You can’t help it, however hard you try Jungkook’s lips around your clit and his fingers inside you make it impossible.

You can feel his lips turn into a smile when you let out a particularly loud noise. You wouldn’t care if it wasn’t for the fact that Jungkook pulls away from you. His fingers still in you, his face looking up at you with a certain smugness.

“How we going to get you to be quiet then?”

As if to prove his point you moan out when his fingers push deeply into you. He chuckles, you frown at him. Hands reaching up, you have to push yourself off the sofa a little to wrap them around his neck to pull him up off the floor and into you.

“Like this,” you say before attaching your lips to his.

This time when you moan out it’s swallowed by Jungkook’s mouth.

He expertly works you both sideways, fingers still in you as he manoeuvres you to lay down on the sofa with him hovering over you.

His hand doesn’t become enough. There’s pleasure there still, but you want more, you want all of him. He didn’t go all the way back to his for a condom for nothing.

Placing a hand on his shoulder you get him to pull away from you. “Where’s the condom?”

It takes a second for him to understand, but then he’s doing a scramble to find it. He finds it between the layers of your dress. As you tear it open, he pushes his boxers down. You try not to be intimidated by his size, because as he rolls down himself that’s all you can think.

He is fucking massive.

Jungkook looks smug when you look back at him, as if he’s seen where you were looking and read what you were thinking. You roll your eyes as you pull him back down to kiss you.

“Just shove it in already,” you mumble against his lips, earning a chuckle from him.

He reaches between your bodies, runs his tip through your folds and pushes just the tip inside you. You moan and arch up into him. It already feels like a lot.

“Sure you can handle it?” He jokes, confirming he knew what you were thinking earlier.

You think he probably has a point. But the desire to prove him wrong, or at least wipe the smug smile off his face, is larger. Wrapping your legs around him, you push him down deeper into you as you push your hips up. He must only move a couple of inches, but it’s enough. This time it’s him, not you, that lets a moan out and you don’t have to encourage him to sink the rest of the way in.

There’s a small pause in movement. Your breaths the only noise in the room. You realise you still have your bra on when you feel Jungkook’s chest move along yours. But then he’s placing his lips against yours and delicately kissing you. Softly and slowly, he begins to move.

It’s not the rough, heavy sex you’d imagined. He doesn’t toss you around, or man handle you. He’s slow as he pulls out and though there’s power behind each thrust in, it’s still not rough. A thought flicks through your mind, it’s more like making love than having sex. The thought there one second and then gone when Jungkook thrusts back into you.

It feels good. His lips still on yours, his thrusts building up that feeling inside you, the small moans he keeps letting out only driving you closer to oblivion.

It doesn’t take long. It’s no surprise. Even if his body didn’t look the way it did, his cock is big enough that he wouldn’t need to have much skill to make anyone feel good. But, as if to make it completely unfair, he knows what he’s doing, knows exactly how fast to go, exactly how deep to push into you, knows where to touch and where to kiss to drive you completely insane.

When you come, you come hard. You become a mess in his arms. He swallows every one of your moans as he thrusts a couple more times and then you feel him twitching in you, his own moans rumbling through his chest.

Still inside you, he rolls you so you can lay side by side. You should go to the loo, should put some clothes on or something. But when Jungkook reaches up to pull a blanket off the back of the sofa over the top of you, you find it hard to even keep your eyes open.

You were hoping Jungkook would be gone before Zac woke up, but when you hear the small feet thundering down the stairs all you can think is how happy you are you both have clothes on.

Zac jumps off the last three steps, a habit you tried to stop early but probably only encouraged him. He runs nearly as far as the kitchen before he realises there’s someone other than you sat on the sofa. He’s too surprised to say anything straight away, his eyes wide as they stare straight at Jungkook.

“Have you brushed your teeth?” You draw his eyes to you. He pauses then with a guilty look nods. “Have you?” You get another less delayed nod. “Come here then.”

He doesn’t move, he knows he’s been caught out. You raise an eyebrow at him and he tries his hardest to hide his smile but fails.

“Go and clean your teeth and I’ll make you breakfast. What do you want?”

His eyes flick to Jungkook before settling back on you. “Why’s Jungkook here?”

Your heart stops before starting at a more rapid pace. “He just slept here last night.”

“You had a sleepover?” He looks hurt as if you purposefully left him out.

“No, well, yes, but it was nothing Zac.” You can feel the way Jungkook tenses next to you, and you know if you were to look at him, he’d be stifling a laugh. “Just go brush your teeth.”

He pauses a second longer, eyes continue to flicking between you but one look at your stern face has him moving back to the stairs.

“And what do you want for breakfast?” You shout after him.

“A ham sandwich, crisps and sausage roll.”

“That’s lunch,” you shout but don’t get a response.

Zac fully out of view now, Jungkook lets out his laugh. When you turn to point your frown at him, you’re met with his face a lot closer than you’d thought. Without much thought he leans in and places his lips against yours. When you stiffen and try to look over your shoulder to double check you really are alone, Jungkook’s hand goes to your head to stop you.

“It’s fine,” he whispers before pressing one last kiss on your lips and drawing away.

You remain stiff even as Jungkook removes himself to a safe distance. It’s just that you’re not used to this. Sure, the morning after stuff is awkward but it’s more that Jungkook looks so relaxed in what should be an incredibly awkward situation.

“You going to go make that ham sandwich?” He smiles at you.

“You going to head off?” You counter.

He raises an eyebrow. “Do I not also get breakfast?”

“Do you want breakfast.”

“Uh, yeah?” He chuckles as if it’s obvious.

You could ask him to leave you guess, but after a moments pause you figure there’s really no reason. Your main worry was Zac seeing him here, but that’s happened now anyway. There really isn’t any reason to force him to leave.

Standing up, you head to the kitchen, Jungkook following in your wake.

“Scrambled eggs on toast?” You ask, already getting the ingredients out, heading to the counter with them.

Jungkook comes up behind you when you’re cracking one of the eggs. His body presses into your back and he leans round to place his head on your shoulder so he can watch what you’re doing. When you twist to ask what he’s doing he only sees it as an opportunity to kiss you.

“Jungkook?” You ask, pulling away.

“What?” He chuckles, staying where he is.

“Zac could walk in any second.”

“I’ll hear him coming down the stairs, it’s fine.”

You’re not as sure and while it’s one thing for Zac to see Jungkook here early, it’s wholly different for him to see him all over you like this. Jungkook seems to get the idea and with a smile and another quick kiss he peels himself off you.

You would never have thought Jungkook the clingy type. But then you wouldn’t have guessed he’d have been so soft with you last night too, so maybe you just have to realise all your assumptions about the man are probably wrong.

Feeling flustered you focus back on your eggs. And when you hear Zac’s feet running down the stairs you realise how unprepared you are for this breakfast.

“Have you washed your hands?” You say over your shoulder.

“What’s Jungkook doing here?”

“I’ve already told you that. Have you washed your hands?”

One glance over your shoulder tells you enough. They’re the words you say before every meal and every time you get the same guilty look. Before you can tell him to go and wash them though, Jungkook’s speaking.

“I haven’t done mine either. Maybe you could show me where the sink is?”

You catch the small nod Zac does before he’s zooming off. Eyes still on the door you miss the fact that Jungkook walks over to you before following Zac and can only freeze when he presses a light kiss to your cheek.

“See, I’ve got this,” he says cockily before disappearing after Zac.

You remain frozen for a few more seconds before realising the eggs are catching and you still need to butter the toast.

Though you’ve managed the whole, looking after a toddler while also doing one hundred other things, it’s not wasted on you how much of a help Jungkook is. He occupies the time it takes for you to get breakfast ready and then helps Zac lay the table for you. He keeps up an easy conversation over the food. And then, when you start to clear up he easily takes Zac out of the way and entertains him for a bit before coming back to help you.

They’re small things, stuff you wouldn’t have even picked up on before Zac was around. But you can’t deny that his easy smiles, coupled with watching him wipe down the table really gets you going. You really are a mum.

“Oh shit,” you moan, body creeping up the bed.

Jungkook only grunts in return, his hands tightening on your hips to stop you from moving away from him. With the way he’s slamming himself into you, it doesn’t help and you continue to move up the bed.

He slows to a stop, leaning down into you so his chest is against you, face above yours and cock fully in you. His hair is slightly damp from all the effort he’s put in. You’d feel slightly bad if it weren’t for the fact he’s been making you feel extremely good and that he looks incredibly hot with damp hair. He also doesn’t seem to be complaining about the fact you’ve just been laying on your back the entire time.

“Mum’s going to be round soon with Zac,” you manage to get the words out just before he presses his lips to yours.

Slipping his tongue into your mouth, he moves his hips in the same slow but deep rhythm. You try to grind your hips up into his, deepening how far he goes into you with every thrust.

“We’ve got time,” Jungkook mutters back, his lips moving from your mouth to press around your face. “I just need you a different way if I’m going to come any time soon.”

“Mhumm?” You moan, eyes closed, head tilted back to let Jungkook have access to your neck. “How’d you want me?”

He hums, teeth nibbling a little bit of skin as his hips push a final time into you. “On your hands and knees.”

He looks up at you, trying to gage your reaction but when you clench around him, he gets the idea. You hum a little when he pulls out and when he’s given you enough space you turn onto your front. Wait patiently, exactly how Jungkook wants you.

His hand runs down the arch of your back, stopping only to feel the globe of your ass. He lets out a satisfied hum before you feel his cock tapping you.

You arch back and up into him and you hear a little satisfied chuckle as his hand moves to your hip. He keeps you where you are as he runs his tip through your folds.

“I’m not going to last long when I get in you,” he warns.

“Neither.”

“Ok,” he breaths, stopping when he’s at your entrance.

His hands tighten on your hips and he lets out a low whine as he pushes into you. He feels so different from this angle, somehow bigger than he felt before. The first few thrusts are slow, you both are getting used to the feel of it. But when you fall onto your elbows, half exhaustion, half because your hands were starting to ache, he hits a particular spot in you that has you moaning into the sheets.

“Oh yeah?” Jungkook asks and you can only let out a gurgled noise in response.

It’s enough. His thrusts grow faster and every time they hit that spot. His balls slap against you, only adding more pleasure. The whole thing is enough to do as you both warned. You come first, hard and out of nowhere. And the feeling of you clamping down is enough to get Jungkook to follow close behind.

Collapsing on your front, Jungkook pulls out of you and gets rid of the condom before lying next to you.

“I should really sort myself out before mum gets here,” you say, though don’t move.

“We’ve got time.”

“Yeah, no offense, but you also need to be gone before she gets here.”

He chuckles, the noise causing a smile to appear on your lips. “I’ll jump the fence if I need to. Stop worrying.”

You roll onto your side and Jungkook flops his head so he can look at you.

“She’ll be able to smell that you’ve been here,” you say and Jungkook grimaces as if weirded out by the comment. “I know. But nothing gets past her.”

Jungkook rolls onto his side. “Well, I can stay and meet her if you want?”

You don’t know why the thought terrifies you so much, but it does. You don’t even know why Jungkook’s offering, but he seems so sincere about it, as if it’s a perfectly normal thing to offer. Surely, it’s too early to be thinking about meeting each other’s parents?

“I can just say you need help putting some shelves up.”

“She’ll make some comment about that being an innuendo,” you roll onto your back.

“Well come on then,” you feel the bed dip and move and when you look back over at Jungkook he’s already standing. “Let me at least help you clean up the evidence.”

There’s a wide smile on his face as he starts to pull on the clothes you all but threw on the floor earlier. He doesn’t look bothered by any of this and while you worried this was only about the sex for him, with all the little things he’s doing, he’s slowly convincing you that maybe it’s not.

“But you better hurry,” he teases when you continue to lay staring at him. “She’s going to be here any minute.”

He does a poor imitation of your voice and when you throw a pillow at him he only chuckles as he catches it. It hits you square in the face when he tosses it back. By the time you’re sat up and moving Jungkook is already out of the room and beginning to tackle the mess you’ve been putting off.

You continue to sleep together whenever you can find the time without Zac being around. But when there isn’t any, Jungkook is still there.

He plays with Zac outside so you can have some peace while you prepare dinner. He washes the dishes up when he occasionally stays for food so you can go and get Zac ready for bed. He buys you bunches of flowers and little boxes of chocolates. He does things around the house, mows the lawn, stops the cupboard squeaking and makes it so the shower doesn’t leak water out of one side.

He seeps into your life in every way and though you’re cautious, you completely let him in.

You convince yourself it’s nothing serious, mainly because you never discuss what the two of you are. But it’s fun and you live in the moment, enjoy the sex as well as the help you’re getting around the house.

However, you look at it though, you know you’re doing what you said you wouldn’t. You’re letting Jungkook in. Not just into your life, but into Zac’s too. Somehow you can’t seem to feel bad about it.

You don’t notice him until you round your car to check that Zac is strapped in. It’s barely 7am, not a time you’re used to seeing Jungkook but the movement at his door has you glancing up. You do a double take as you come to a stop by Zac’s door.

There’s a girl looking like she’s just stepped out of his house, she’s close enough to Jungkook to look like they’re about to embrace or make out or maybe both. He’s stood just in his pants looking down at her, you’re too far away and the girl is blocking your view to work out the expression on his face. Or maybe it’s the cool feel of embarrassment that stops you looking too hard.

Still, you can’t pull your eyes away from the scene. As the girl is talking and Jungkook is listening, neither notice you staring.

It’s not the same girl you’ve noticed at his before, no, this is someone you’ve never seen. You’re not sure if that makes it better or worse. What you do know, is how big an idiot you are. Because of course while you were growing to like him, while you were letting him further into your life, he only saw what you had as something else, a bit of fun, a convenience.

It’s your own fault for not talking to him about it. Your own fault for reading into it more than you should have. You’d known who Jungkook was, what he was like, the sort of man he was and yet you’d still been blinded by his words and smiles. You stupidly thought that you were different. One of those stupid girls that thought you’d be the one to change him.

And there he is, after a night with someone else and he doesn’t even care that he’s flaunting it on his front doorstep.

“Mummy, why aren’t you trapping me?”

Zac speaks loudly enough to not just draw your attention but your neighbours too. You catch Jungkook’s eyes dart towards you just before you twist to your son. You don’t correct his wording, you just want to be out of this situation, don’t want your embarrassment to be witnessed by anyone else.

You duck down to Zac’s level and pull the belt over him and his car chair. Satisfied he’s strapped in you stand. Your traitorous eyes can’t help but flick to your neighbour’s door, however hard your brain is screaming not to look.

The girl is a step further away from the door now, her head looking between you and Jungkook. Jungkook’s gaze is firmly on you. It looks like he’s about to open his mouth and shout something at you. That or take off in a run in your direction.

Springing into action, blood coursing through you, you leap into the drivers seat, buckle yourself in and take off in reverse.

You can hear your heartbeat in your ears as you start down the road. Though you know nothing is going to happen there’s thoughts of Jungkook opening your door or banging on your window. None of that happens. When you flick your eyes in the rear-view mirror, he’s not even left his doorstep.

Your heart falls into the bottom of your stomach.

“I know what I saw Rosie.”

“Well talk me through it one more time.”

You sigh, look down at the tea in your hands before flicking your eyes to your son. Zac is still playing with the little girl who approached him fifteen minutes ago and is happily getting bossed around in a game with her. It’s sweet to see the bundle of energy that is your son be so placid sometimes. It’s also great to be at one of your favourite coffee shops, kids play area and all with your best friend moments after the most embarrassing time of your life. Though you don’t want to relive every detail of what happened in the car before coming here, it’s kind of nice to hash it out with Rosie.

“There was a girl, all dressed up as if she’d had to put on the clothes she was out in last night, stood on Jungkook’s doorstep while he stood basically naked saying goodbye.”

Rosie hums, her head bobbing up and down in thought. “Yep. I’ve got to admit I’m struggling to see any good angles.”

“That’s because there are no good angles,” you whine.

“Well, I’m guessing the nearly naked bit was good.”

The glare you shoot at her has her sitting straighter in her chair, her hands almost raising in defence.

“Yep. Agreed. Definitely one of the worst bits. Ok.”

You sigh, eyes flicking once again to Zac.

“And what the hell am I supposed to tell Zac?” It’s the first time you’ve thought about it, because although this is your issues, it’s also going to affect Zac. “I can just ignore Jungkook, but Zac will still ask questions and while I’d dive away from him in public Zac won’t do the same.”

“Right,” Rosie says with the air of a woman with no children, therefore lacking all understanding of your predicament. “Well, my first thoughts in all of this, and please don’t kill me when I say this. But, why don’t you talk to Jungkook first?”

“Why would I do that?” You ask flatly.

“Because you clearly have no idea what you were looking at this morning.”

“What gave you that impression? I’ve very obviously stated just how much I saw.”

“Yes, and while I admit it didn’t look great, neither of us can fully explain it. The only person who can happens to live only a short trip from your house.”

“Not going to happen,” you say, taking a sip of your tea and looking away from her. It does nothing to convince her to change the topic.

“You’re both adults. Maybe what you thought you saw wasn’t exactly what it was,” when you continue to not look convinced, she sighs. “Fine, give him a piece of your mind, walk away from him and avoid him like the plague. But what if you’re building this up to be something it really isn’t?”

“I know Jungkook, and I know what that was.”

“From what you’ve told me about him, I really don’t believe it for a second.”

Your ice-cold glare does nothing, she just levels her gaze right back at you. In the end it’s you who give in first.

“I’m not going around to his only to have what I already know laid out so plainly for me. You don’t understand how mortifying it was this morning.”

Rosie’s eyes turn softer, a glint of pity seeping into them. When she speaks her tone is softer and her body starts to lean in towards you.

“I get it. But I also get the impression that Jungkook would never do that to you or Zac.”

The mention of your son’s name makes your heart pound. You look over at him, he looks so happy sat on the floor piling blocks high with the little girl. It makes your heart hurt to imagine him asking after Jungkook and you having to tell him that he can’t see him anymore. The laughs and giggles that always came out of him when Jungkook is around. The manly figure in his life gone like that. This is why you didn’t want to get close to him. This is why you didn’t want anything to happen. Because although you’re hurting right now, you know it’ll feel nothing in comparison to breaking it to your son.

“Will you just think about it at least?” Rosie asks, dragging your eyes back to her.

You sigh and then nod. “I’ll think about it.”

You think about it all of two seconds and know you will never be knocking on Jungkook’s door, nor will you be hanging around outside long enough for him to catch you. No, you will be doing exactly as Rosie suggested and avoiding him like the plague.

This is why you never wanted to get involved with him. Because you knew what would happen in the end, you knew what type of man he was. And why you may have accepted that in the past, gone with the man for a bit of fun. Now, things have changed, it’s not just you that you have to think about.

You spend the time alone thinking it through. The more time you have, the more certain you are. Jungkook was a mistake. But now you know that you can move on as best you can. He doesn’t want you, that’s fine, you can accept that and do your best to pick up whatever pieces of Zac that break.

Surprisingly, for nearly a week, it works.

Unsurprisingly, when there’s an unexpected knock at your door Saturday evening when Zac is in bed, it’s Jungkook.

You know it’s going to be him before you open the door, or at least have a strong feeling it is. Your face is already set in a grimace, so luckily it’s not a delivery man or an unsuspecting stranger. You open the door enough for Jungkook to see you, but only enough that your body is blocking any view inside.

“Hey.”

You raise an eyebrow at the word. Has he really come here after a week and the first word he says is hey? You can almost see the cold sweat breaking out across his forehead, but to his credit Jungkook remains calm.

“So, I was thinking it’s been a while since we last saw each other and I was wondering how you are?”

“Are you shitting me right now?”

You have half a mind to slam the door in his face and as if reading that thought Jungkook sticks a hand out and props it on the door. He doesn’t push it open, he doesn’t apply any pressure, he just rests it there so he can stop you closing him out.

“Can I come in so we can talk about this?”

“What’s there to talk about?”

It’s Jungkook’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “Given this reaction, there is clearly lots to talk about Y/N.”

“And if I don’t want to talk?”

He closes his eyes. You’re not sure if he’s praying or taking a second to calm himself down. Either way, when he opens them and looks at you, they seem darker, more intense, like he has more purpose now.

“Right, if you want to do it here, let’s do it here,” he says and doesn’t give you time to interrupt. “I know you saw me last week with Clare. I know what it looked like and I know what you thought. Maybe I’ve been utterly shit in not coming sooner but I wanted to give you space to figure things out on your own; I realise now that was a mistake.”

You’re so thrown by the last comment you don’t speak in the small pause. Should you be offended? Jungkook carries on, as if satisfied you’re listening to him.

“Clare is an ex of sorts, and she came over early, before I had chance to get dressed, and that’s what you saw. Nothing else. Nothing more.”

You don’t know how to feel. You don’t know whether to believe him. Because although he sounds like he’s telling the truth, he also sounds like he really wants you to believe him and for whatever reason you’re not sure why he’d cared so much about what you think.

“You always answer the door in your pants?”

It’s clearly not the words he was hoping for, but he still gives you an answer. “When I’ve just woken up, yes.”

“And she didn’t stay the night?”

The question, although spoken with a little less bite, a little less certainty, seems to be more what Jungkook was expecting. Though you’ve given him little reason to relax, his shoulders look less tense, his weight leans forwards so the door creaks open a touch. You try to hold your ground as your traitorous heart pounds in your chest.

“No one has stayed the night since I’ve been with you.”

Your eyes flick around his face trying to read the truth there. You can’t spot the lie, though you still don’t fully believe it.

“She didn’t even come inside,” he carries on. “In fact, she was at my door all of ten minutes before she left. If you hadn’t driven off, you would have seen that.”

“Ok.”

“Ok?” He frowns. “That’s all you have to say?”

“Yes. You’ve explained, so, ok.”

Jungkook remains, frown between his eyes, hand still on your door. And you stare right back at him, feet planted, door not swinging open.

“I don’t understand,” he admits, voice soft.

“Right, because you expected me to jump back into your arms?” The silence tells you the answer you already knew. This man’s ego is way too big. “I guess I just realised who you are and why we don’t work together. What happened between us was a mistake and I’m sorry if you’ve been pushing girls aside for whatever reason, but you don’t have to anymore.”

Jungkook continues to look confused. It only makes you drive the message home a little stronger.

“We were never going to work. You’re you and I’m me and while we had fun, that’s all it was ever going to be. I guess I just remembered who you are and why I can’t afford to have you around me and Zac.”

Jungkook’s hand slips from the door and the look of hurt on his face almost makes you regret the words. But it’s true, isn’t it? You’re not sure what he was coming here to say, that he wanted to carry on sleeping with you for a bit longer? That you were convenient living next door and he didn’t want to give that up just yet? Aren’t the words you just said what he would have been telling you weeks down the line when you and your son were no doubt in too deep?

No. It was better you told him how it was now. It was better you ripped off the plaster. It was better you ended this now before Jungkook broke your heart. Because although you’re hurting now, although you want to drag him inside and let his explanation be enough, you know that it’ll only be worse later.

Jungkook’s hand now free from your door you see your chance.

“I’ll still see you around though,” the words feel bitter as they leave your lips and your tone lacks any conviction. “I’m still happy to lend you sugar like any other neighbour.”

Jungkook doesn’t speak, his eyes focused on something in the near distance, he looks like he’s trying to solve a puzzle or an over complex maths equation.

You swallow as his eyes finally move to yours. The frown is still there but they look dark and not in the same way they did earlier. No, the look in them now makes your stomach coil. He looks like he’s figured something out. You can’t tell if that’s a good or a bad thing.

You don’t give yourself long enough to figure it out. You need to be out of this situation. You need Jungkook off your doorstep. You need to make sure he doesn’t say anything to change you’re easily swayed mind.

“I’ll see you around,” you squeak and then you slam the door closed in his face.

You lean into the door as your chest rises and falls. You did it, though you doubted yourself, you told him what you’d been thinking the last week, that although you didn’t really want him out of your life, it was better he was out of it.

You don’t hear his footsteps. You don’t see his shadow move away from your door. You remain leaning on your door for a minute after closing it but you’re unaware of Jungkook leaving either. Heart in your throat, you twist and walk away, hoping that’s the last you hear from the man but knowing it won’t be.

It starts with flowers. A big bloom that gets delivered first thing in the morning. They get shoved in your hands and the woman is walking away before you can tell them they must have got the wrong address. Your names on the card though, and when you prize it open you know who they’re from even though it’s got no signature.

You never let me finish. Let me take you out for dinner?

You bite the inside of your cheek, send a glare at your neighbour’s brick wall.

You still put them in water. You still cut their stems and arrange them and then place the large vase on your countertop. It would be a waste to throw them away. But you don’t attempt to reply to the question on the card. That, you throw away.

It takes Jungkook a few hours to text you, chasing for an answer.

Jungkook: Did you get my flowers?

Y/N: They’re yours? I thought they must have come to the wrong house.

Jungkook: Is that why you put them in that pretty vase and up on display? What did you think about the note that came with it?

Y/N: It’s in the bin where it belongs.

Jungkook: Let me take you out for dinner.

Y/N: I’m busy.

Jungkook: I never even gave you a date or time.

Y/N: I struggle getting a babysitter for Zac as it is.

Jungkook: Then let me cook for you. He can sleep while we talk.

Y/N: I really am busy Jungkook.

Jungkook: Think about it. I just want to talk.

Sure, you think, I’ll think about it. The same length of time you thought about whether you’d go and talk to him before. All of two seconds.

No, you’re not going to have dinner with him. You don’t particularly want to talk to him ever again.

Maybe it’s childish given he’s your neighbour. What he did wasn’t awful, it’s more that you know if you give him even an inch then he’ll take a mile and you’ll just let him back in. You liked having him around, you liked the help, you liked being able to talk to someone your age, you liked someone looking after you. But it’s not just about you.

You’re bound to see him around and that doesn’t mean you won’t give him a neighbourly hello and nod. That will be it. No opening up about your life. No asking to babysit. No late night drinks. No kissing on the sofa. No anything more.

You can’t even think about it. You may be pretending to be hard and over it, but Jungkook had successfully wormed his way into your life and if it wasn’t for Zac, you’d more than happily curl up in your bed and mope for a few days.

You’ve successfully been played. And it feels shit.

“Mummy,” you look over at Zac. “You’ve been sat of that sofa forever.”

He never fails to put a smile on your face. And just like you were thinking before, he successfully gets you out of your slump. You could sulk all you want in private, but with Zac around you have to set an example.

You don’t go to Jungkook’s for dinner, instead make some half-arsed excuse as to why you can’t go. He must know you’re still pushing him away and at least this time he lets you. You get a simple reply to your text rejecting his invitation. No offers to rearranged. No accusations or callouts for your excuse. No attempt to carry on the conversation. Just an understanding message.

You’re not sure why but you feel a little disappointed. Even though it’s what you were hoping for.

It doesn’t take long for the next attack to come. This time it’s not flowers or offers of dinners but is instead small acts of kindness. Your lawn mowed without having to ask. Your bins emptied and cleaned. Your car cleaned. All things Jungkook’s done in the past and if you didn’t know him you’d find slightly creepy, but instead find endearing.

You hate that you feel that way.

His texts don’t start immediately. But when they start, they come in steady streams. There’s no pressure in any of them and while you hardly reply to any of them, they’re still said in the same tone, sweet and light. They all say pretty much the same thing, that he wants to meet to talk. But you’re not ready and you don’t want to. No matter what he says it won’t change who he is and it won’t change the fact that you’ll like slip again and you can’t afford to be with someone like that.

You see him in passing, him leaving while you’re arriving home. Again, he never pressures you into talking but always smile and waves at you.

You start to feel a little awkward. You know what he’s doing, guilt tripping you into giving in; you just don’t understand why he’s doing it. Surely he should have given up by now, surely if you’re just someone to sleep with this isn’t worth it.

You’re sat on your front garden watching Zac cycle around when you hear his front door open. You don’t look his way, but you tense with expectation. Zac hasn’t noticed Jungkook yet, he’s still happily going in the circle you’d allowed him to, from pavement pausing to checking the silent road for a car, crossing to the other side and going around. He’s babbling about something, shouting about being chased by a dinosaur as he whizzes around.

There are three footsteps before they go silent. And you prepare for whatever he’s about to say.

It’s been close to two weeks now and while he’s been doing small but thoughtful gestures, you have successfully put off talking to him. You’ve passed him in the street a couple of time, but every time have managed with a nod and a hello, the greeting you’d wished was normal for the two of you.

He doesn’t say anything this time though, just stands wherever it is he’s stopped. You fight the urge to look at him, foot tapping on the floor as you fight to keep your eyes on Zac.

Your restrain is only so strong. When you look over your shoulder he’s already staring right at you.

Your heart stutters. Your foot stops it’s tapping. He doesn’t look angry or sad, in fact there’s a small smile on his lips. His attire is much the same as you always see, an oversize shirt with sleeves that go to his elbow, letting you see his arm full of tattoos and skinny black jeans. He’s stood on his side of the drive; you can’t even accuse him of trespassing. The only thing you could possibly tell him is that he’s being creepy. But even that would be a lie.

“Hey,” his smile widens now you’re looking at him.

You don’t reply, can barely manage a smile. Every time before now you’ve been on your way in or out. You had an excuse for a quick escape. Now, sat on your front garden, you feel trapped.

“You alright?”

And yet, Jungkook still isn’t pushing you. However big a dick he’s been or might be, he’s never forced you to speak to him. Maybe you’re the one being a bigger dick. Maybe speaking to him won’t be as bad as you think. Maybe you’ll actually like whatever it is he wants to tell you.

Just as you open your mouth to reply, Zac beats you to it.

“Jungkook!”

You wince at the name screamed across the street. It’s not the volume that causes your reaction but the pure joy in which the name is said.

You’re still focused on Jungkook’s face, trying to conceal your reaction as he looks over at Zac with a wider smile when you hear it.

A crash. Metal scraping along tarmac. Silence for a second and then a scream, the noise so much louder than the name he shouted mere seconds ago.

Eyes wide, heart pounding, your head whips away from Jungkook in the direction of the noise. Zac must have turned too soon, distracted by the sight of Jungkook he’d lost control of his bike and left the pavement too soon, only to crash and fall off the curb.

You shoot to your feet, your focus solely on your crying son who has a bike now on top of him and is calling out for you. Time seems to slow. Your feet don’t move fast enough. Zac is too far away. And even though you run faster than you ever have, you still don’t make it before Jungkook. He’s pulling the bike off your son, trying to sooth him when you get there.

You swallow the tightness in your throat, the fear creeping up your chest, as you look at your scraped up son.

“Mummy,” he wails, eyes landing on you, tears streaming down his face as blood oozes in the cuts on his palms and knees.

You reach out for him, but again, Jungkook is too fast. He lifts Zac into his arms as if he weighs nothing and then he's ever so carefully handing him over.

“It’s ok, baby,” you hold him to your chest, hand soothing his head. “You’re ok. It’s just a little cut.”

But it’s more than that. It’s the shock of the accident, it’s more than a little cut and for you, it’s the fear that it could have been a lot worse. What if a car was coming down the road when it happened? What if he’d landed differently? What if he’d hit his head? You shouldn’t have been so focused on Jungkook. You shouldn’t have let Zac cycle around all on his own, he’s still so young. You should have –

“Come on,” a warm, steady hand squeezes your shoulder. “Let’s get you two inside and cleaned up.”

You look at Jungkook, your own tears welling in your eyes. As if sensing your rising panic, Jungkook’s expression changes and the hand on your shoulder moves to your lower back. He adds a small amount of pressure and is steering you in the direction of your house.

You let him guide you. Your feet, your body, everything but Zac in your arms and Jungkook’s hand on your back cease to exist. Mind racing about what you need to do you don’t realise Jungkook’s led you into your living room until his hand leaves your back. Eyes snapping to his already retreating body, he says nothing.

Panic still rooted in you; it takes you a second to react.

You need to calm Zac down. You need to clean his wounds. You need wipes, plasters and a blanket and hot bottle of milk. You need to –

“You need to calm down,” Jungkook says lightly as he comes back. “You can’t help anyone in this state.”

Hand back on your shoulder he guides you once again, this time until the back of your knees hit the sofa and then you’re sat. You look over Zac’s shoulder to see Jungkook kneeling before you, supplies in his arms. He has a hard look on his face, one that tells you to pull yourself together. You give him a small nod as you twist Zac around to face Jungkook, his arms tighten around your neck and your heart breaks a little.

“We’re ok, aren’t we Zac?” Jungkook says lightly. “Let’s have a look at that cut.”

You swallow as you watch Jungkook’s hand and eyes go to Zac’s cut knee. He waits a second and then lets out a loud, exaggerated gasp. Zac’s head pulls out of the crook in your neck to look at Jungkook and his wide eyes. Tears are still falling down his face, but the reaction has stopped the sobs.

“Oh Zac,” Jungkook says in another dramatic tone. You know he’s joking, you just worry that Zac doesn’t know that and Jungkook’s going to do the opposite of what he’s hoping. “I think you might survive. You know why?”

Zac’s little head shakes and you can only watch as Jungkook completely takes control of the situation.

“Because you’re being so brave. I mean look at you, I don’t know anyone braver,” Jungkook’s eyes dart up to you, a small smile now playing on his face at whatever look he’s seen on your face. “Don’t you agree, mummy?”

It takes you a second, mind scrambled, but you squeeze your hands on Zac’s shoulders. “So brave.”

“See,” Jungkook says. “Now, shall we have a look at cleaning you up? You have to be extra brave for me though, and if you promise me you will, then maybe after we can have some chocolate ice cream.”

Zac head nods and Jungkook smiles widely at him. You watch as Jungkook mutters how amazing your son is being while he cleans him up, he even makes him giggle at one point.

You stroke your hand over his head and try not to let your mind spiral. Jungkook is being so good and while you have no doubt that he would never let anything that may be happening between you get between him and Zac, it’s something wholly different to see. You’re not sure what you would have done had he not been there. And while you could pin some of the blame on him, not a single part of you wants to.

You’ve treated him like crap. Ignored him when all he wanted to do was talk. And yet he’s still here, acting as if everything is ok. That doesn’t seem like something the guy you’ve been imagining in your head would do. You’ve been way too harsh.

When Zac’s all cleaned up, you do as promised. While you help him change into cleaner, less cut, clothes, Jungkook finds him some ice cream. By the time he’s all tucked up watching Moana, there’s a bit more life in his face.

You don’t say anything as you leave him to it and head to the kitchen, and you don’t say anything when Jungkook follows you. Silently you flick the kettle and pull two mugs towards you.

“Can we talk?”

It’s what he’s been asking for days, in that same unexpecting tone. You’re in no doubt that if you said you didn’t want to talk, however hard Jungkook may find that, he’d still respect your wishes.

You make him wait a little longer now. Put a tea bag in each mug before pouring the just boiled water over them. When you twist Jungkook’s leaning against your counter, the portrait of indifference, though his eyes tell a different story as they bore into you.

“What do you want to say Jungkook?” You still have to force the words out.

He seems to relax while tense all at the same time. He takes a step towards you and looks as if he’d take another before thinking better and stopping. It’s as if now, finally given the chance, he’s not quite sure what to say. Or maybe he just doesn’t know where to start.

“I’ve already been through the whole what you saw wasn’t what it looked like thing. But you never let me carry on,” he pauses, as if expecting you to stop him again now. When you don’t, he carries on. “The reason I wanted to clear things up is because I don’t want you thinking of me that way or thinking that I was for some reason using you or Zac. I really like you Y/N. It wasn’t just a fling for me, I thought you got that?”

Clearly you didn’t. You’d hoped, sure, but the minute there was even the smallest of hints to say any different, you’d jumped on it. Jungkook seems to read that even though you don’t say anything.

“Why is that so hard for you to believe?”

You shrug feeling awkward, but Jungkook waits for you to say it verbally. “Well, because I’m me and I have a son and a really messy life.”

Jungkook’s lips twitches at the edges. “You know I love Zac too, right?”

“Playing in the street is something wholly different to going out with his mum.”

“You make it sound like I’m a kid too,” he laughs. “But of course I get that.”

“He’s not always happy and playful.”

“I think we just established that.”

“Yeah, but he’s hard work and needy and rowdy.”

“Where’s the downside here?”

“Jungkook,” you warn but he just laughs and takes another step towards you, now close enough to grasp your hands and lift them between your bodies.

“I honestly get it. You two are a package deal. That doesn’t put me off.”

You struggle, look at your hands laced together. You don’t pull away from him, but you also don’t fall into his arms. Something is still hold you back.

“What is it?” Jungkook encourages.

You take a breath and then look up into his eyes. “What if you don’t always feel that way? What if one day you decide it is too hard and isn’t worth it and just leave?”

He detangles one of his hands with yours so he can reach up to cup your cheek. His eyes look so soft now, though his features look hard and set with whatever thoughts he’s thinking.

“I would never just leave you two,” he says, thumb moving over your jaw. “Listen, I can’t promise anything about the future, maybe we won’t work and if we don’t I wouldn’t just up and leave you and Zac – I live next door, I wouldn’t be able to get very far,” he tries to lighten the mood and when you let out a small laugh, he looks happy that he succeeded. “But what if we did work? What if this is it? What if we’re meant to be together? Won’t you at least give it a try?”

You can see the hope swimming in his eyes, can see the desire and the truth behind every word he’s spoken. He really means it. He wants to be with you and he doesn’t care that you’re a single mum with an over enthusiastic child, that hasn’t put him off.

And you know he’s right. You’re pushing him away on what if’s and though you may not work out, should that be enough to stop you from having happiness in the here and now?

Jungkook patiently waits the few seconds for you to mull it over, but really you’ve been a sucker all along. You wouldn’t have been able to deny him for much longer, no matter what happened.

“Ok,” you finally say and watch as Jungkook’s whole face lights up.

“Ok?” He repeats, unbelieving.

You giggle and before you can confirm it a second time his lips are on you. Hard and heavy and a whole lot of teeth, it’s not the sexiest kiss you’ve ever had but it’s definitely in your top five, even given the fact it only lasts a second.

Jungkook stays close, his hand still on your jaw, his nose nearly brushing yours, a wide toothy grin on his lips.

“Can I take you out for that meal now then?”

You can’t supress your smile even as you roll your eyes. “I’ll look for a babysitter.”

“No,” he stops you. “I want Zac to come too.”

Your heart stutters, breath caught in your chest. It’s the three of you now and Jungkook already knows how important that is to you.

You lean in to kiss him again before mumbling against his lips. “Ok.”

#btswritingcafe #jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfic #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook imagine #Jungkook oneshot #jungkook fic

7K notes · View notes

suzukiblu · 5 months

Text

Day thirty of fic NaNoWriMo, obligatory sugar daddy Tim/sugar baby Kon AU. And yes I DID win NaNoWriMo, thank you for asking. ❤ This is the last day of NaNo, obviously, so I'm gonna take a little bit of a break from this fic due to being just sliiiiightly burned out from writing 1k+ a day in it for the past month and all, but I intend to start editing it and posting chapters of it on AO3 in the next week or two, so it'll be both easily bookmark/subscribe-able and updating on there soon!

They go through all the boxes, Tim suffers a bit for it, and Kon laughs and makes him suffer more, the bastard. It’s fun, though, even if now Tim would really prefer to never stick his hand in another box ever again in his life.

The last box Kon directs him to is full of layers of distinctly cashmere-esque fabrics, and Kon smiles a little and ducks his head again. Tim is disgruntled, but charmed.

They wander through the exhibits, and Tim feels pretty good about his activity-picking when he realizes Kon’s stopping to look at all of them and actually seems interested in all of them. They have to circle back a couple of times so Kon isn’t doing anything too super-powered in front of other guests, but they do hit all of them. Some of them are more interesting than others, in Tim’s opinion, but Kon still tries them all. Tim wouldn’t complain even if he were bored out of his mind, though, given how invested Kon gets in sorting and mixing the tables full of colored glass beads and making waves and whirlpools in the water fixtures and manipulating the kaleidoscopes and chimes and everything else.

Kon spends the least amount of time with the auditory and olfactory stations, though he’s happy to try all the little hors d'oeuvres that Tim assumes are supposed to be covering “taste” for the exhibit. Visual he seems generally curious about, but definitely tactile wins. Like–far and away, does tactile win. They spend twice as much time at the tactile stations Kon is least interested in as they do any two of the others. Tim doesn’t mention it in case it’s not on purpose. He still doesn’t want to make Kon feel self-conscious or anything.

Anyway, the tactile parts of the exhibit were the whole reason he picked this as a date activity, so what, is he going to be bothered by having made the correct deduction or assumption or whatever? Not freaking likely. Actually if anything he’s going to need to privately gloat to himself about this later. Bask in it a bit.

Also take some notes for future dates and things to buy Kon and whatever else.

More cashmere, to start. A lot more.

Tim sneaks a few more pictures of Kon as they walk from station to station. Kon laughs at him every time he catches him and takes one of him too, which is incredibly flustering. Tim cons him into a few selfies in self-defense, which turns out to be a terrible idea because it still involves him ending up in pictures and, worse, involves him ending up in pictures with Kon, who takes the excuse to press in close and kiss his cheek and just be all kinds of appallingly adorable, the asshole.

Kon uses the first picture he took as Tim’s contact picture and makes one of their shared selfies his phone background. Tim is mildly mortified but also desperately wants to earn lockscreen status, which is a terrible idea because what if Kon ever takes his phone out around the team or Red Tornado or, god forbid, Bruce?

Tim should definitely make sure Kon doesn’t put him on his lockscreen.

. . . but like, if he did . . .

There’s a clay station. Kon stays at that one the longest, making weird little abstract shapes and surprisingly accurate miniature versions of the sculptures tucked away in the corners of the gallery with TTK. Tim hadn’t even noticed him looking at any of the sculptures, but in retrospect he never actually needed to “look” at them, did he? And on that note, Tim guesses the accuracy shouldn’t be any kind of surprising either–Kon must have a really good sense of spatial awareness, if nothing else, and of how things “should” be shaped.

By the time they get through the last station of the exhibit, they’ve been at the museum almost twice as long as Tim’s most optimistic estimates had allowed for and he’s had to sneak off to the “bathroom” for five minutes to push their reservation back an hour. Tim has absolutely zero intention of rushing Kon, especially if he’s having a good time, so it just makes more sense to reschedule than to put him on a schedule.

Though he did have to actually make sure to go into the bathroom to do it, since Kon might’ve noticed him not heading that direction. Tim doubts Kon’s paying attention to what anyone’s doing in the bathroom, for obvious reasons, but he still probably would’ve noticed the date he was briefly concerned might be a supervillain just ducking around a corner to make a phone call ten yards away, no matter how Bat-stealthy said date was about it. Like, that seems like a stupid thing to expect him not to notice.

They stop by the gift shop on their way out–well, Tim detours Kon to it with subtle herding, anyway–and Tim manages to convince Kon to pick out a couple of things. He ends up with a couple of sort of fidget toy-type puzzles and a little three-pack of little tubs of a clay-like play sand in bright colors, which Tim thinks is probably meant to function as some kind of stim toy and was probably something specifically sourced to go with the event, and Tim “accidentally” throws in a couple of fancy candy bars from the front register. Again: Kon needs calories that weren’t directly sourced from cafeteria food from a definitely-not-OSHA-compliant cloning lab.

Maybe Tim can send Kon a fruit basket or ten while he’s still stuck at Cadmus. Those probably come in tropical themes.

Alternately, maybe he can just kidnap Kon outright and trap him in a nice new cul-de-sac until he gets used to it. He could get him actual groceries, then. Lots of them. Fruit and vegetables and entire spreads of “things that weren’t made in an OSHA-noncompliant cafeteria”. That’d be nice.

Also he could send that Hawaiian food truck by on the daily, if they were up for it.

They share the candy bars on the walk to the restaurant–meaning, Tim takes two perfunctory bites of each and tricks Kon into eating the rest with basically zero effort–and it’s . . . nice, honestly, just walking around together. Just being together. Not that this is new knowledge, after the mall, but it’s still novel enough that Tim can’t help indulging in and enjoying the experience. They don’t usually get much time alone together, much less time that isn’t spent either fighting supervillains or dealing with emergencies. So–it’s nice, yeah.

Tim likes it, he means.

They make their adjusted reservation, and Kon peers around the restaurant awkwardly as they’re led to their table. Tim resolves to do whatever it takes to get him to relax, up to and including embarrassing himself in some way or another. He’s probably going to do that anyway, given how most of these meet-ups have been going.

“Does it qualify for ‘nice’ enough so far?” he asks once they’re seated, and Kon blushes, then flashes him a grin.

“It’s okay, I guess,” he says, then bites his lip with a brief flicker of insecurity as he glances down at the menu–specifically the prices on the menu. “Um . . . are you sure you wanna spend this much on me, though . . . ?”

“I want to spend my entire trust fund on you,” Tim says matter-of-factly, and Kon lets out a weird little laugh and ducks his head again. It works a little better this time, since he has the menu to hide behind right now.

“I already like you, man,” he says, which is still inexplicable but not something Tim is actually gonna argue with. “You don’t have to keep buying me stuff.”

“I like buying you stuff,” Tim says. “I’m gonna keep doing it as long as you’ll let me.” And after that, he’ll figure out a way to sneak doing it.

“Just because you like it?” Kon says, glancing at him over the top of the menu.

“Because I like you,” Tim says. “I mean, no offense to the hostess, but I wouldn’t enjoy buying her dinner this much.”

Kon bites his lip, then ducks his head again. His face is red. Tim feels the urge to kiss him again. He probably should’ve found time to do that on the walk over or something. Or as soon as he first saw him. Or just at any point so far tonight, because the urge is getting seriously distracting now.

“So when you said you wanted to go somewhere after this too . . .” Kon trails off, flushing darker.

“There’s a late show at the planetarium about the sun’s role in our solar system and the life cycle of stars,” Tim says. It might be too loose an association, but . . . “I thought you might be interested in checking it out.”

Kon stares at him for a moment, then turns absolutely crimson and hides behind his menu entirely.

“Okay,” he manages, his voice a little cracked. Tim’s pretty sure he could’ve said he’d rented them a hotel room and gotten a less embarrassed reaction. So . . . that’s a thing.

Okay.

“I really do want to spend the money on you,” he says. “Apartment and all.”

“An apartment,” Kon says, glancing over the top of his menu at him again. “And bills and groceries and an . . . allowance.”

“Yes,” Tim says. No point in beating around the bush, he figures. It’s all things he’s already told Kon anyway.

“And not just because I saved your life,” Kon says.

“Not just because you saved my life,” Tim agrees. “I just want to give you those things. Or anything you want, really. Which–well, what would you want?”

“Um,” Kon says, just barely lowering his menu as his eyes skate away. “Well . . . could we like . . . keep hanging out outside the theoretical apartment and stuff? If we did . . . that?"

Tim feels something absolutely giddy and absolutely painful in his chest, hearing that question. Just–what does Kon think, that he just wants to toss a lease at him and never see him again? Or just only come over to . . . actually, wait, maybe Kon does think–ugh. Ugh. Fuck, that is not what he’s trying to make Kon worry about here.

“Yes,” Tim says firmly. “As much as you want.”

“Mm,” Kon says, biting his lip again. His face is still red. Tim wants to give him every single thing the world hasn’t given him, which he knows for a fact is a truly fucked-up and probably borderline-insurmountable amount of things.

But he still wants to give it all to him anyway, and then think up a few more things besides.

#timkon #tim drake #kon el #conner kent #dc robin #superboy #young justice #young just us #rinfic #long post #wip: obligatory sugar baby kon

345 notes · View notes

goddess-aelin · 7 months

Text

Little Falcon

For day 22 of Rowaelin Month: Magic/Shifting lessons with the kids

@rowaelinscourt

Masterlist

Word count: 1k

Warnings: none!

Aelin was going to kill him, she truly was. She usually was a forgiving soul, one of the kindest people he knew despite her penchant for violence and general mischief. But for this, she would kill him.

Because he committed probably the worst act he could have ever committed. Worse than killing a man. Worse than forgetting Aelin’s birthday. Worse than eating his wife’s chocolate hazelnut cake. No, Rowan lost their daughter. Alma was almost four years old, her blonde, shining hair always a beacon and her quiet, yet temperamental disposition a mirror of her mother’s. It seemed that she had also inherited her mother’s ability to sneak around. Because she wasn’t here. She wasn’t anywhere.

He’d been searching the castle for almost an hour, hoping to find the little trickster before Aelin was done with her meeting. He began in Alma’s room, hoping that her golden hair would be sticking out from her covers or her tiny toes from under her bed. No such luck was found. He made his way around the royal family’s wing of the castle with the same circumstances. He quietly asked the staff members if they had seen her, all to a resounding “no” and a look of disapproval that he lost Alma.

He was about to shift into hawk form to do a fly-by of the castle grounds but before he could, he heard footsteps coming up the stairs to their wing. Alma. Relieved, he rounded the corner, shouting her name and about to give the little girl a stern talking to when he stopped in his tracks. Aelin was standing in front of him, one brow raised and a knowing look on her face.

“Why were you calling Alma’s name?”

Rowan let out a nervous chuckle. “Well, you see…” He knew Aelin could probably see the sweat beading on his forehead. “Alma and I, we were….we were playing hide and seek! Yeah. And she’s just so good at hiding that I can’t find her.”

Aelin rolled her eyes. “You’re a terrible liar, Buzzard. Just tell me you lost our daughter so we can go find her.”

He deflated at that. “Fine. I lost our daughter. Happy now?”

“Not particularly, no.” Aelin sighed. “I was gone for less than two hours, Rowan. How did this happen?”

“Errin needed to be changed so I stepped out of her room for a minute. A single minute, Aelin. And the next thing I knew, she was gone.” Panic laced his voice and he knew that he was about five seconds from completely losing his shit. It was a miracle he had kept it together this long, to be quite honest.

“I put Errin in his crib for a nap–don’t worry, one of the nursemaids is in there with him–and I came back and she was just gone. I didn’t even hear her little feet scamper by or anything. I don’t understand it.” Tears were finally forming in his eyes as the realization that he lost their daughter set in.

Slender arms wrapped around his middle, embracing him tightly. “It’s okay, Buzzard. We’ll find her, okay? We’ll look together and we’ll find her.” Even if Aelin was putting on a brave front, he knew she was probably panicking as much as he was. “Besides, she has the bravery of both of her parents so I’m sure she’s totally fine.” Aelin gave him a small smile and pulled him by the hand toward her room.

Gradually, they overturned every cushion, ripped every blanket from her bed, and opened everyy door and drawer but still no Alma. Rowan tugged on his hair, hoping to relieve some of the tension that was building in the pit of his stomach again. Aelin was slowly putting everything back to where it was so he figured he’d go and make another round of their bedroom.

Aelin’s voice halted him about halfway down the hall. “Uh, hey, Buzzard?”

He doesn’t think he ever ran so fast in his life. With panicked eyes, he burst into the room like a tornado. Aelin was standing calmly in the center of the room, looking up at the small curtain rod that hung over Alma’s bed.

“Look there,” she pointed toward the ceiling where a small bird was perched on the curtain rod. A suspiciously golden-looking falcon stared back at him and chirped. The tiny falcon flapped its wings, getting enough air to rise up from its perch and glide down to land on Rowan’s shoulder.

Aelin’s voice was breathless when she spoke, “Is that–”

Rowan nodded. “I think it is.” Rowan brought a single finger up to gently pet the bird’s head, it’s color too close to Alma’s blonde waves for it to be a coincidence.

As his finger stopped its motion, a bright light flashed and then there was a familiar weight in his arms. He was shocked into silence as he beheld Alma sitting in his arms, smiling.

“I was hidin’ Daddy!”

Slowly, so as not to startle her, Rowan brought her into the tightest embrace he could manage without crushing her little bones. “I can see that,” he choked out. When he looked up at Aelin, she had a hand over her mouth, eyes wide. She gave him a look that seemed to say, Well, shit.

“Alma, how long have you been able to do that? Turn into a bird?”

“I not just any bird, Daddy! I’s a falcon! Uncle Fen said so!”

“Uncle Fen knew about this?” Alma nodded enthusiastically.

“Yeah! He said I should sup’rise you.”

Rowan smiled tightly at his daughter. “Consider me surprised, little falcon.”

His daughter put her tiny hands over her mouth and giggled. The sight made his cold heart melt. But quickly, the severity of the situation overtook him.

“You have to let me know when you’re going to shift, okay? I want to teach you how to fly safely so you don’t hurt yourself.”

“Daddy, you’re bein’ a Buzzard. Jus’ like Mommy always says.”

Rowan’s mouth hung open. Aelin’s cackle could be heard throughout the castle as she doubled over in hysterics.

Eventually, Aelin’s laughter died down and she met his eyes through her tears. I’ll get you back for that, Fireheart.

Mmhm, sure. Not before you murder Fenrys though, right?

Rowan gave a curt nod and pulled his giggling little falcon back into his arms. She placed a tiny hand over the tattoo on his face.

“Daddy, I can’t wait to fly with you! It’s gonna be so much fun.” And with that, she snuggled into his arms once more.

Maybe murdering Fenrys could wait a few more minutes.

A/N: I absolutely loved writing this one and I was squealing from cuteness while doing so 🥹

Tagging:

@cretaceous-therapod @morganofthewildfire @tomtenadia @live-the-fangirl-life @charlizeed @violet-mermaid7 @euphoric-melancholyy @kritical24 @rubyriveraqueen @dealfea @wellofnothing @ayaashryver @moonknight-spector @leiawritesstories @whoever-you-choose-to-love @holdthefrickup @heirofflowers @thecrispypotatochip @shanias-world @rowanaelinn @bruiseonthefaceofhumanity @hanging-from-a-cliff @fantacysoup @swankii-art-teacher @thegreyj @fromthelibraryofemilyj @westofmoon @lovely-dove-zee @books4eva04 @cookiemonsterwholovesbooks @backtobl4ck @dreamer-133 @elentiyawhitethorn @writtenonreceipts @shyvioletcat @aelinchocolatelover @captain-of-the-gwynriel-ship @athena127 @tothestarsandwhateverend @highqueenofelfhame

#rowaelin #rowaelin fanfic #rowaelinmonth2023 #rowaelin month #rowaelin fanfiction #rowaelin fic #throne of glass #throne of glass fanfiction #rowan whitethorn #aelin galathynius #my fics #my fic

115 notes · View notes

rubbercasing · 11 days

Text

adelaide under moonlight

cw: some gore and viscera

the night is quiet at 3 AM. in the Michigan cold of the week past Martian ides not even the peepers chirp in the waxing moonlit bright. at this hour there is but one car in the road.

in a red shitbeater truck half rusted at the undersides from winter salt and aged abuse, a young woman sits at the wheel. her leather flight jacket, a scratched up she/her pin and "a better world is possible" pin tagged to a pocket, tucks a greasy black fastfood uniform close to her uncomfortably sweaty skin, the once warm moisture drawn clammy with the chill air. the heater hasn't warmed yet.

a nametag beneath the jacket reads "Adelaide".

she's distracted, admittedly. she self-consciously thumbs at a bit of hardly noticable stubble on her chin. the drive home is always long at this hour. her attention, usually rapt to the narrow two lane highway (as well as it can be when exhausted) is instead drawn away to the phone in her hand, its Bluetooth on and connected to a speaker in the passenger seat; the console of the truck still ran a tape deck she didnt have casettes for.

she doesn't notice the deer. not until it's too late, of course. her training as a driver quickly echoes bullhorn-like through her skull: don't swerve, brake. she slams the pedal as hard as she can, keeping the wheel steady. she braces for impact.

impact never arrives. adelaide watches as her truck rapidly disassembles piece by piece, it's hood shooting away as if possessed by the hand of God - but it doesn't end there, for each part in front follows like a wave outward: the radiator grill tears assunder, fan blades shred, a battery is reduced to its component lead and acid and casing respectively, a piston comes free from the engine, then another and another, until the front cabin and front chassis are stripped bare like a carcass in the desert sun.

but it continues. the frame, the wheels, the glass, all torn away with the cold grace of a tornado's breeze. it crumbles to unfine dust, all of it in pieces at once, but to the poor girl in the driver's seat the once is many moments, cycles of eternity in terror transfixed over brown eyes. the steering wheel, the driver's console, the tape deck, flies away like birds fleeing catastrophic weather. the first pieces of debris make impact with the road, skidding with unholy screeches and pings of ricochet.

but it continues. after the steering column the wave of destruction consumes adelaide. her hands shred apart bone by bone, muscle and tendon unhooking from sinew; and then greater as bone unhooks from marrow, vein unhooks from interstitial matrix, arteries unhook from capilaries, joints unseat and separate. her sinew sprays apart in neat lines, meat lines, their strands unweaving less like the total body disruption of a grenade and more like a careful undoing of fabric stitches. she screams but it is cut short as her teeth unslot from her jaw with sickening noise, tongue unsticks from the bottom of her mouth, and aveoli are split into bubbles of cellular interface. blood, at last, begins to splatter against what remains to splatter against. the rest becomes fine mist.

adelaide's eyes lock with the deer's cold black beads as they are torn from her sockets. the moonlit night goes black. all is truly quiet.

gasping.

She wakes up gasping, already running. Her lungs ache for air as if they have never before, loud body shaking pants echoing in the night air around her.

the ground feels rough and graveled beneath Her paws, Her body lunging in long strides forward as She flees the horrible screech of sirens and flaring lights. it's cold; the frost aches and chills against Her fur, matted and bloody with shards of glass and metal. the scared beast skitters off the highway black into dew-tippled green, leaving a trail of red dripping from Her shaggy coat as She runs, runs as fast as the wordless thought in Her mind can carry Her, through fields and forward through forests as fences flatten under her stride. run, gotta run, gotta run away. the frightened limb numbing adrenaline of flight or fight carries Her long into the moonlight, even as behind the gargantuan, sinewy beast, a coterie of ambulances and firetrucks pull up to the flaming wreckage of a red pickup truck circa 1995 pulled apart so meticulously as to not be even recognizable as a truck, even while a deer near by eats from the lowest boughs of a maple.

the night is quiet at 3 AM. in the Michigan cold of the week past Martian ides not even the peepers chirp in the waxing moonlit bright. at this hour there is but one car in the road - scattered and disassembled, surrounded by parked emergency vehicles.

#werewolf #writing #my art :3 #transformation

19 notes · View notes

silvr-skreen · 12 days

Text

I wanted to do my own designs, notes about them under the cut

Lady Doppler:

her hair is intended to resemble a cloud (changes based on active weather effect) and the braids have blue beads which represent raindrops)

i tried to go for a slightly more cohesive color palette

belt buckle is a sun, and the frills below it resemble an umbrella

the bottom of her dress is intended to look like clouds (these do not change based on the active weather effect)

Pierre Pressure:

I tried to exaggerate the diamond shape of his head as well as add more red to his design

changed the stripes on his shirt to hypnotic swirls to emphasize his power

gave him coattails and an ascot

the beret is supposed to have an exclamation point as the little pomf bc it looked cool/mimes don't talk and exclamation points indicate volume

Behemoth:

i dont know why but the fact he had a face annoyed me for some reason so i removed it sorry buddy.

tried to emphasize the shoulders by adding larger rocks than the rest of him.

flames on the lower arms to VAGUELY resemble metro man's costume fringe/bc it looked cool

his face is actually intended to resemble the concept art for the tornado titan from Hercules 1997 (it functions almost like a vacuum he can suck stuff into the lava whirlpool)

Nighty Knight:

his colors are intended to be strictly black/silver/purple (+ very small amounts of blue)

this is due to the backstory i imagine him with

he's got one of those knight visor/mouthpiece covers

i didn't vibe with the very colorful insignia so i changed it slightly to match the rest of his colors

i dented+scratched the armor to signify he's been in fights before

in this one i headcanon him AS a sentient suit of armor (it makes sense with my general headcanons about the world the show/movie takes place in dw)

i gave him claws bc it is epic

#my art #megamind vs the doom syndicate #megamind fanart #doom syndicate #lady doppler #pierre pressure #behemoth #lord nighty knight #nighty knight #design headcanons #if people want i can kind of break down how i see the worldbuilding and also how i imagine the movie/show to operate

13 notes · View notes

yisony07 · 11 months

Note

love ur stories! could u do one about a guy who discovers that the mask he finds can give him powers to turn his girlfriend into a giant hunk?

Thanks so much! I'm glad you like them. Hope you like this one as well:

Nicholas was organizing his house while his girlfriend, Jennifer, was taking a long bath. There had been a party at his house the night before and it was his turn to pick up and clean everything. He picked up the trash, washed the dishes, and dusted the table. He was sweating, and he waited for Jennifer to come out to wash the sweat off himself with a relaxing bath. The house belonged to Nicholas, although Jennifer visited him often enough to consider moving in with him.

As he was taking out the garbage bags, a fleeting thought regarding his life passed through his mind. During the last few months he has not had much romantic sexual activity with his girlfriend; he didn't deny that he wanted her, he loved her, but the spark seemed to fade from them. To add insult to injury, during the party, even though he didn't do anything immoral, he realized that he had a taste for other men more than women; he loved his girlfriend, but he didn't think that would be enough.

He reached the trash can near the sidewalk, put the bags in, and turned to face home, but as he took the first step, he tripped and fell to the ground. Getting up and checking what made him fall, he found a very peculiar wooden mask, which Nicholas didn't instantly recognize.

"How strange, I'm sure one of the guests kept it, I'd better take it with me to see…", he said to himself, took the mask and returned to his house, straight to his room. "Jennifer, babe! Are you done?" he asked as he entered.

"Not yet, love," she replied from the bathroom. "But almost there, just a few more minutes."

"Alright!" said Nicholas, who sat on the edge of the bed with the mask in hand, a few beads of sweat falling on the sheets.

It had a peculiar design, almost taken from a mythological ritual. Did it really have magical powers? Obviously not, it was just a mask. In case the owner didn't show up, Nicholas thought, it could be used as decoration. He took his cell phone to take a picture to ask about its owner, but his cell phone failed to detect the touch and Nicholas ended up doing an Internet search, and the information he read caught his attention:

The mask, supposedly created by Loki long ago, is said that it's capable of granting the bearer powers, being even capable of altering reality based on the darkest desires of whoever wears it.

"Interesting," Nicholas whispered. At that moment the voice of his girlfriend reached his ears; she began to sing at a high volume, and an idea crossed Nicholas's mind, "Couldn't her voice be more masculine?"

Suddenly, a faint green glow caught his attention. It came from the mask. Fascinated by that inexplicable light, he didn't notice that the color of his eyes had glowed green and red, nor that he was pulling the mask closer and closer to his face until, slap, the mask jumped onto his face and it began to move.

"WHAT TH…?!" Nicholas yelled ecstatically, not knowing what to do when he didn't understand what was happening. He only felt an electric sensation run through his body as the mask spread his wood, which little by little took on a rubbery consistency, around his head.

Nicholas tried to remove his mask. He gripped the edges and began to tug and tug and tug at the mask, though some of his skin seemed attached, causing him pain badly.

The mask resisted being removed, so the green electrical discharge around Nicholas's body increased, activating erogenous zones, causing Nicholas to relinquish his grasp in favor of pleasure. The mask returned to his head with force, and from the momentum his body fell to the bed, where the mask ended up covering his entire head. Suddenly, Nicholas began to spin in a tornado around the room.

Jennifer's voice trailed off. She had finished her things in the bathroom, and while she was bathing she heard a noise like gusts of wind from the other side of the door. She covered herself with the towels and opened the door, finding a lot of greenish gas dissipating, and as she did so, she saw a new figure.

"OH BABY THE WORLD'S ON FIRE?!" the figure yelled as he flexed his muscles. "NO, IT'S ME, 'CAUSE I'M SO HOT!!"

"Nicholas?"she asked, recognizing some features of him, but that body, that confidence, everything about him was foreign to her.

"NICK'S THE NAME BY NOW, BABE!" he declared, laughed and, blushing and with a smile, reached out her big arms, took her and carried her to the bed, making the towels fall off and she was naked, surprised at what was happening. "YOU KNOW, DEAR, I'VE BEEN THINKING AND I THINK I'D RATHER COCKS THAN PUSSY, BUT I HAVE A SOLUTION THAT FITS US BETTER!"

Before Jennifer could absorb those words, Nick took her body, tangled her completely with his powers until she looked like a mummy and forcefully untangled her, her body spinning around the room.

She saw everything blurry, she only paid attention to her body. She felt how her breasts hardened, her body mass grew in comparison, as if she had trained for years, how her back grew wider and her facial features thicker; how in what used to be her vagina a member grew bigger and bigger until it formed and how her mind, her consciousness seemed to think differently. Suddenly, her body stopped spinning, stopping at the edge of the bed.

"Fuck…" he now whispered, "Nick! Jason's the name, I'm so fucking horny…".

"WILL BE A PLEASURE," Nick ripped his boyfriend's clothes off, dumped him on the bed and Nick shoved Jason's cock into his ass. "NOW WE'RE BETTER, SO LET'S BEGIN, SHALL WE?!"

And the couple plunged into carnal pleasure (at the level of their love) for a lifetime. Goodbye to Nicholas and Jennifer and welcome to Nick and Jason.

#loki mask transformation #he-mask #the mask #the mask transformation #themask #male tf #male transformation #gay transformation #female to male

63 notes · View notes

jamisonwritestf2trash · 6 months

Note

part 2!!!!! :3

--------->

It's been 3 days since Scout ran away. In those 3 days, Spy has gone through 6 packs of cigarettes and 5 bottles of wine. Demoman drank with him to make sure Spy wouldn't do anything stupid while drunk.

The other mercs went out to look for Scout, with Engi and Sniper driving out to look in farther areas. Only Medic and Demo stayed behind to moniter Spy.

Spy just feels horrible.

He wants to go back in time and undo everything. Undo his mistake of leaving 26 years before. Scout seemed more upset that Spy had broken his mother's heart, but Spy could tell that Scout is just as heartbroken and angry.

And to make things worse, Scout's Ma was being flown to the base because Scout had gone missing. And Miss Pauling, doing her job, told the truth. That Spy was Scout's dad.

Scout's mother's name is Heather. A beautiful name, Spy had always thought, for a beautiful woman. But Heather was not only beautiful; she was kind-hearted, easy-going, and fun-loving.

She'll be here any moment. And Spy doesn't want to face her. Scout's wrath was barely managable. Heather's wrath is like a tornado.

"She's heah, lad." Demo puts a hand on Spy's shoulder. Spy lowers his cigarette.

"I'll be there in a minute." He replies, staring at the empty fireplace. Demo nods and leaves.

Truth be told, Spy does want to see her. His head says no, but his heart says yes. So, with a grand sigh and a final brush of his suit, he heads to the garage.

Heather is just as lovely as she was when he first met her 27 years ago in Boston. Her black hair, swept neatly into her classic hairstyle, her slightly smudged makeup... it's all still just as perfect. Spy stands in the doorway, still cloaked.

Heather's crying. Medic and Engi try to console her, but she pushes them away.

"I need to talk to him-- Where is he?" She cries, looking around.

Spy sighs, then uncloaks and enters the room. Engi looks up at him, and his mouth turns into a thin line. Medic just looks tired, and Demo shakes his head. All of them, even Spy, are expecting Heather to kill Spy. And he's fine with that.

He stops walking when Heather starts walking up to him. She doesn't hit him. She just looks him up and down with her hands clutched together over her chest.

"We meet again, mon petit chou-fleur." Spy whispers. Heather sighs, tilting her head, before reaching up and putting one hand on Spy's cheek gingerly.

"What happened to you, Jacques?" She whispers. "You used to be such a fine young man... what happened in all our lost time? You look so tired and ill..." Heather stares at him, tears beading in her eyes, before pulling him into a very unexpected hug.

Spy doesn't know how to react. He had expected anger but all he got was grief and love.

He doesn't deserve it. But she is giving it to him and he cannot bear to break her heart again.

So he returns the hug.

"I'm sorry." Is all he can say. Over and over, he says it to her, the ego he had built for himself shattering with just those two words. And she forgives him.

If only Scout had inherited his mother's kindness.

I love it anon!

@h0ly-tea @frostbite-yinny

#tf2 #tf2 scout #tf2 spy #spydad #tf2 scouts mom

42 notes · View notes

initiallytasteless · 1 year

Text

John ‘ Soap ‘ Mactavish x Reader

Just some cute fluff and bonding time with Soap.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

The car ride to base was quiet, hot, and hellish. The summer months had rolled in a couples weeks ago and the heat wasn’t making anyone’s mood better, mines especially.

Training was so much worse than it was before, I constantly felt like passing out even after drinking water thrice or more. What’s worse was that the car’s air conditioner was busted up and needed to be fixed. There’s was no tools for me to fix and our only option was rolling the windows down which rolled more hot dusty air.

I felt like melting into the borrowed jeep’s leather seats. Leather fucking seats, who decided it was a good idea to place them in cars. The beads of sweat rolled down from my forehead.

“ Are we almost there Soap? “ I whined squinting my eyes from the heats blinding rays.

“ Yeah, yeah where almost there… just a couple more miles “ He replied eyes facing the road.

A couple more miles? Yeah, fuck that.

I can’t handle anymore more miles as there was no cold wind and we are wearing heavy gear. I tiredly looked over to Soap even though it was hot, he looked normal as if the heat hadn’t affected him.

I’m not sure why, but that angered me. Now, I’m angrier because I’m angry at something that I can’t have.

Soap must’ve noticed because he was now focused on me and not the road: his eyes would glance back and forth til he settled on me.

“ Are you- “.

“ Shut up “ I hissed.

He looked taken aback at my sudden attitude ( which shouldn’t be surprising ). I decided to unstick myself from the seats to readjust into something more comfortable.

“ Look I’m just worried about you “ Soap explained as he glanced over at him.

“ Instead of talking drive faster so we can get out of this shitty ass heat “ I complained trying to take off the gear. “ Jesus christ it feels like the devils ass in this shit ass car “.

I spewed endless vulgar complains till we arrived to base. I hopped out of the car and slammed it and stomped off to my room ignoring everyone on the way.

I threw every heavy useless shit that stuck to me like glue almost gave me a heat stroke.

“ Stupid military gear. Stupid, stupid with your stupid- “ I grumbled flopping onto my bed and kicked off the sheets.

I couldn’t even shower as it was too hot to even walk 10 feet away from my bed. The beads of sweat continuously rolled down my body and onto my poor mattress.

There was a faint knock on the door, “ Hey (Y/n), it’s me “.

I was too hot and tired to even respond and though I didn’t reply Soap knew he was allowed open the door. His eyes scanned around the messy quarters: blankets and pillows scattered along with tactical gear and small weaponry.

“ Jesus lass, you gotta clean your room it looks like a tornado blew through “ Soap observed as he moved the items aside.

He took a seat near the girl on her bed as she stomach side down star fished possession. He touched her soaked back from all of the sweat it collected. He recoiled his hand back and sighed shaking his head.

The bed shook slightly as he got up and stretched, “ I prepared a nice cool path for you to take, come on then doesn’t it sound nice? “.

There was no response even a muffled one from the ( probably and possibly dead ) girl. He looked down at her worriedly.

Was she dead or sleep from the heat?

He nudged her gently which resulted to her reignited burning anger.

“ What do you want? Your annoying me just by standing there and waking me up from this horrid hellish heat the satan decided to rip out “ The (h/c) caterwauled as she slowly flipped over angrily looking at the ceiling though it was meant for her captain.

He laughed at her which resulted to her pouting. Soap has found it cute unbeknownst to the sleepy girl.

“ I’m not to sure if you heard me (Y/n), but I prepared a cool bath for you since I am currently seeing intense amount of sweat you are producing “ Soap laughed at his own joke.

I replied with a grunt and slowly lifted my arms out towards him indicating I wanted to be carried. Soap oblige happily picking me up and taking me to the cold bath’s location.

We walked down a couple of halls and turned into his room where it was much cleaner than mines— a couple clothes here and there, but nonetheless cleaner than mines. I lazily get off of him as I stripped my sticky clothes away not caring if he stared as I felt the coolness of the tub calling out to me. I threw the clothes in the corner and hopped in.

My burning skin was now relieved from the heat and I felt myself sinking further down. Soap let out a small amused chuckle, it felt like heaven to my ears.

“ I feel so much better now thanks to you Cap “ I praised. Just before Soap could leave I called out to him.

“ Why don’t you join me “ I suggested looking at him. “ I’m pretty sure you’re hot in that gear that you’ve never taken off and that long sleeves you’ve decided to wear “.

John raises an amused brow, “ You sure you just don’t want to see me naked? “.

“ Why don’t you come and find out? “ I teased the corner of lips curled my eyes squinting slightly.

I looked away for a second to give John a chance to change— to which he does— and sat behind me groaning happily.

I leaned back as my back touched his chest. I looked over my shoulder smiling slyly, “ Doesn’t that feel good cap? “.

“ Feels better now you’re here with me pretty girl “ He smirks his arms snaked around my wisst.

I felt butterflies fluttering in my stomach, he just knew what to say to get my flustered and riled up.

He places a gently kiss onto my temple letting out a hummer melody.

#john mactavish #soap x reader #cod mw22 #john mactavish x reader #codmw2022 #modern warfare #fanfic

218 notes · View notes

bellofthemeadow · 10 months

Text

The Road Ahead - ch 7 | Frankie Morales x female reader

Series Masterlist

Previous Chapter

For most of your married life, you dedicated yourself to waiting for Frankie. After each deployment, you patiently awaited his return, longing for the moment when he would be by your side again. During those nights when nightmares consumed his thoughts, you yearned for him to open up to you, hoping that he would find solace in sharing his pain. And as his addiction spiraled out of control, you held onto the hope that he would recognize his problem and seek help. However, despite your countless protests and pleas, you now find yourself waiting for him once more as he ventures off to Colombia, engaged in God knows what.

But this time is different. Determined, you make a solemn promise to yourself: You will never wait for Frankie again.

Rating: M for Mature (18 + no minors allowed)

Word Count: 9K (Again, I have no excuses)

Warning: Applicable for the entire fic / PTSD, drug use and addiction, postpartum depression, abusive familial relationships, self-hatred, unhealthy coping mechanism, explicit sexual content, violence, mentions of suicidal thoughts, super angsty

Chapter Summary: What is left of you and Frankie and is it possible to rebuild after everything that has happened between you two?

Notes: Hey everyone, thank you again to everyone who liked, commented or reblogged the earlier chapters of this series it means the world to me that you all enjoy this! I also wanted to apologized because this took way longer to write than I anticipated, and I wasn't able to have it ready by Sunday like I thought. This is kind of bittersweet as it is almost the end of this story, only the epilogue will be left after this. I wasn't sure which direction to take with it, but I hope you will all enjoy where I've taken Frankie and his cielo. Love you all so much <3 <3 <3

One Day at a Time

Frankie follows two steps behind his mother, his arms full of paper grocery bags, while Alma opens the door of the old yellowish one-story home where Frankie grew up. "Por favor, coloca los comestibles en el mostrador," she requests. "Sí, mamá," Frankie replies. He puts the groceries down and wipes the beads of sweat from his forehead. The Floridian humidity has been killing him today.

Alma flutters back into the room like the 72-year-old tornado she is, this time with her arms full of seedlings, and she passes Frankie. "Y coloca la pizza congelada en el congelador," she instructs. "Sí, sí, no te preocupes, yo lo tengo." Frankie knows he was being short with his mother; his words were more biting than they should have been, especially since Alma allowed him to come back home after his stint in rehab. Shame creeps up his neck at his dry tone when his mother turns toward him. "Mamá…" However, Alma doesn't say anything. She approaches Frankie, softly grabs him by the shoulder, bringing him down to her level, and engulfs him in a tight hug that still makes him feel like a little boy after all these years. "Lo siento, Francisco. I don’t mean to boss you around Mijo. You know how mamas are." "Lo siento, Mamá. I didn’t mean to snap at you." Mother and son embrace in the middle of the kitchen, the full light of the afternoon sun illuminating the kitchen.

“Tell me what’s on your mind mijo. Are you not going to see Estrelita this afternoon? That always cheer you up.”

“Si. Once I put the groceries away, I am picking her up from Mrs. Hu and we’ll spend the rest of the day together.”

“And what about her mother?” Frankie lets out a sigh.

"We're going for lunch tomorrow. It's her first day off in a while, and honestly, the first day she won't be working an 11-hour shift. This new job is really working her to the bones.”

Since Frankie left rehab five days ago, he hadn't been able to see you. And it was eating at him, consuming him from the inside. He had already missed you so much these past few months, but now those added days were plain torture. You had talked briefly over the phone on the first night Frankie was back in his childhood home to arrange how he could see Ella in the upcoming days. The initial conversation had been awkward, to say the least. You had tentatively asked Frankie how he was feeling now that he was back, how rehab went, did he feel any different from before. Frankie had tried to be as forthcoming as possible, but he knows that over the phone he probably sounded like the stilted mess he felt like. But he tried, without the comfort of the routine rehab had provided, he was feeling anxious and tired. Rehab had gone as well as it could, although he was lonely and missed his family. You had taken a breath upon hearing his answer. He didn't feel that different, except for developing a newfound love for licorice as a by-product of sobriety. You had laughed at that, a breathy and airy laugh, as if you had been holding it in during the entire four months he was away. Frankie was overjoyed to hear he could still make you laugh, and he was tempted to do a victory dance in his old bedroom, between the posters of Top Gun and a young Winona Ryder.

After a moment had passed, a comfortable silence settled between you both, and Frankie had asked how you and Estrella were doing. Your voice sounded tired and sad over the phone. Frankie could picture you sitting on the edge of the bed, chewing on your bottom lip. Apparently, Ella was doing as well as a seven-month-old could be, although you were certain she was missing her daddy (Frankie's heart clenched at that thought). On the other hand, you were currently overwhelmed. You apologized for not being able to be there when he left rehab, and Frankie could hear the guilt seeping through your words. He was quick to reassure you, saying, "Don't worry about that, it wasn't much fun waiting for me to be cleared. It took almost two hours, it's not important." Your voice echoed in a quiet whisper that Frankie almost didn't catch: "It's important to me." Unsure of how to respond, he settled on humming softly.

You continued, explaining the reason for your absence. Apparently, the library at Florida University, while state-of-the-art, wasn't immune to flooding. You had spent the last three days knee-deep in water, trying to salvage the book collection, and you had been working almost eleven-hour days. You referred to it as a "nice little welcome gift." You told Frankie that by next week, you would finally be able to return to a normal work schedule, and you could see each other then. In the meantime, you assured Frankie that he could see Ella anytime and that you would clear it with Mrs. Hu to allow Ella to go with him. Although Frankie would have much preferred coming home to you and Ella, he understood why it was better for everyone involved that he stayed with his mother for a little bit. “Take care to not take it personally, it’s not against you personally. It’s important now to go at your wife’s pace. Take the time to show her how far you’ve gone, and allow time for you both to rebuild the trust that was broken” his therapist had said.

Nonetheless, Frankie was heartbroken upon learning that he wouldn't be able to see you for a couple more days. He had so much to tell you, so much to share, and so much to apologize for. But he could hear the exhaustion and stress in your voice. A baby, a new job, and a flood all at once? Frankie knew he would have needed more than cocaine to get through all of that. So instead, he murmured encouragement, "Don't worry about me, I'll take Ella during the day and spend some quality time with her. Gotta make sure she didn’t forget me, you know." The joke didn't land, and only a sniffle answered him. "I'll see you next week, take care of yourself, all right?" Frankie attempted to finish the conversation with his usual "I love you" but the line disconnected before he could get a word in edgewise.

Frankie flopped onto his bed, his eyes landing on the helicopter model on his bedside table, and he took a deep breath. He repeated the counting exercise, 1-2-3-3-2-1, five times. Grounding himself. It wasn't fair that you couldn't be there for the conversation he had dreamed of and meticulously rehearsed for the past three weeks, but life wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that you were married to a cocaine addict either, but what could one do? Frankie would wait for you, and for now, he would make sure to see Ella every day, creating memories with her and catching up on everything he had missed. Maybe at some point down the line, she would also crawl with him as she had done with you and Benny.

So, in the meantime, Frankie was back home with his mother. He tried to take on most of the household chores so as to contribute as much as he could. At the same time, he spent a lot of his evenings browsing online, searching for ways to appeal his suspension. He came across a recommendation for a lawyer who had served in the military back in 2002 and seemed willing to help him on that front. Will apparently knew the guy and according to him, he was legit. So, for the first time in a while, it looked like things were starting to look up for him.

Otherwise, Frankie devoted his afternoon to spending time with his little Estrelita. Without fail, every day at 1 pm, he would drive back to your home and knock on Mrs. Hu's door. This daily ritual was something he held onto tightly, never willing to miss a single visit. The anticipation would build as he waited for the door to swing open, and a rush of excitement and joy would flood his heart each time he caught a glimpse of Ella. However, no moment could ever compare to the overwhelming surge of emotions that nearly toppled him when he first laid eyes on Ella when he finally passed the two large doors of the Rehab facility 5 days ago.

Although you couldn't be there in person, you were adamant that Ella should be there to welcome Frankie back. So, you enlisted Will's help to bring Ella and make it a special moment. You provided Will with a detailed list of instructions, ensuring everything would be taken care of. In preparation, you gave him enough bottled milk to last at least two days, just in case, and a bag filled with Ella's favourite plush toys. You made sure Will was comfortable and capable of changing Ella if necessary, and he approached the task with the precision and efficiency of the military man he once was.

When Frankie swung open the wide entrance doors, his eyes were immediately drawn to Pope, who was making exaggerated arm movements, and Benny, who was jumping up and down like an excited child, holding a large sign that read "Kick the habit" adorned with an excessive amount of glitter. Although deeply touched by his brothers' enthusiastic welcome, it was the sight of Will, holding little Estrelita in his arms, that truly overwhelmed him. Frankie dropped his bags and sprinted towards them without hesitation. Scooping Ella into his arms, he held her delicately and pressed his tear-streaked face close to hers, unable to contain his emotions. Ella, for her part, displayed remarkable patience and giggled at the man holding her, tugging at his unruly brown curls and cooing happily. Frankie nestled his nose atop Ella's soft, damp head, his heart overflowing with a mixture of joy, longing, and remorse. He fought back the tears threatening to escape, determined to be strong for his precious Estrelita. After a few moments of simply holding her close, he found his voice, albeit choked with emotion, and whispered brokenly, "Papa missed you so much, Estrelita. My little princesa, papa is never going to leave you again. Te amo, Ella. Papa and mama love you so much."

As Frankie poured his heartfelt words into the air, a subtle shift occurred within Ella. Her eyes, previously filled with amusement, now glimmered with a glint of recognition. She seemed to respond to the familiar voice that had serenaded her during those long months, a voice that carried enchanting stories and was always brimming with love. Papa's voice was like a warm embrace that had the power to banish any lurking monsters from her world. It brought her solace and comfort, reminding her that she was cherished beyond measure.

Frankie found himself unable and unwilling to let go of Ella, holding her tightly for a solid 15 minutes before she started to fuss. Coming to the rescue, Will rummaged in the enormous pink bag you had packed for him and produced a bottle of milk, passing it to Frankie. Frankie sat down on the steps in front of the rehab center and fed Ella, cherishing this long-awaited moment of closeness after four months apart. The rest of the boys gathered around, expressing their sheer happiness at seeing their old friend, bombarding him with a flurry of questions. Did he feel better? Did he see God in there? Were the nurses hot? On a scale of 1 to 10, how much did he want cocaine now? Despite the barrage of inquiries, Frankie couldn't divert his attention from the little miracle nestled in his arms. In that moment, nothing else existed except his Estrellita.

Then came the time to head home. Frankie's heart was brimming with a mix of emotions as he prepared to leave the rehab center, his precious Estrelita nestled securely in his arms. As they walked towards the car, Pope couldn't contain his joy any longer, and with a hearty slap on Frankie's back, he exclaimed, "Fish, so glad to see you've ditched that half-dead corpse look. Cocaine was definitely not your colour." Frankie, caught off guard by the sudden impact, instinctively pushed Pope's arm back with the one that wasn't cradling Ella. An amused smile played on his lips as he retorted, "Pendejo,"

"Hey, no swearing in front of the baby," Benny exclaimed with a touch of melodrama, pretending to cover Ella's ears. Her ear-piercing giggle filled the air, bringing a smile to everyone's faces. Frankie narrowed his eyes, and before he could give Benny a piece of his mind, Will stepped in, playfully knocking Benny on the head. "Come on, you know the baby doesn't speak Spanish, so it doesn't count, right, Fish?" he said. "Right.” Frankie levelled a hard stare at Benny, “I’m not planning on making a habit of swearing in front of my baby," Frankie assured.

Benny finally sensed that something was amiss, he took a deep breath and kicked his shoe against a rock, sending it flying toward the row of cars. "I was just saying..." he grumbled. Frankie took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and silently counted to himself. Opening his eyes again, he was greeted by Ella's sleepy face. He smiled before gently tracing the contours of her small face with his finger. "Thank you for everything. I don’t know how I could ever repay you for all you have done," Frankie vulnerably said, his voice filled with heartfelt gratitude.

And then Frankie was home. Well, not his true “Home." Not the home you both built and where you both made memories. The home where you started a family together. It wasn't the sanctuary where he felt the most happiness. But for now, his childhood bedroom with dated 90’s posters and marine carpeting would have to suffice. Until tomorrow that is when he would finally get to see you again. As Frankie meticulously arranged the last of the groceries in their designated spots, he instinctively reached for his phone and noticed a message notification from you. With a sense of anticipation, he double taps the message, eager to consume your words as if he had been starved from you and every morsel you were 0willing to give him would bring him back to life.

"Hey, hope your day went well. Just wanted to confirm that tomorrow at 10 am was still good for you? I have time for a small break, so I wanted to make sure Mrs. Hu is still available to take care of Ella on Saturday.”

Frankie's heart skipped a beat as he read your message, his eyes scanning each word with a mix of excitement and longing. In an instant, his fingers danced across the screen, his response punctuated by an urgency to reassure you of his commitment. "Still all good, and don't worry, I'm on my way to pick up Ella right now. I'll personally confirm with Mrs. Hu, so you don't have to take time off your break. Knowing you, I know you haven’t eaten anything today. Make sure you do please, mi cielo.”

As Frankie anxiously awaited your reply, stressing that he had been too forward, maybe he should apologize. The three familiar bubbles appeared, signalling your typing. His pulse quickened, his mind racing with thoughts of what you might be saying. The bubbles vanished and reappeared, teasing him with their fleeting presence. Finally, your message materialized on the screen, bringing a strange mix of relief and dread. "Perfect, thank you, Frankie. I appreciate it. Give a good smooch to Ella from me. See you tomorrow.”

Frankie's eyes lingered on your message, his mind briefly wandering to the unspoken words that you might have wanted to say to him. Did him using your nickname bother you? Did you not want Frankie to check on you anymore? Had he overstepped boundaries, slipping back too quickly into the role of the husband when maybe you weren't ready or didn't want that anymore? Tomorrow could be the day when you would let him down gently, he thought. Knowing you, you would handle it with kindness, expressing how your love for him had changed, making it clear that co-parenting was the extent of what you were willing to offer now. He wouldn’t blame you for it.

Frankie felt it in the blink of an eye—the overwhelming urge that surged through his entire being. It was like a bolt of electricity coursing through his veins, threatening to consume him. He closed his eyes tightly, took a deep breath, and silently counted to himself. 1.2.3, 3.2.1. Yet, the tension remained, refusing to be easily dismissed. He needed to ground himself, to anchor his spiralling thoughts. Five things he could smell, five things he could see, five things he could feel—Frankie went through the exercise, trying to find solace in the present moment. It provided only temporary relief.

Feeling the weight of his unease, he instinctively made his way to the top drawer of the kitchen. Opening it with a hint of roughness, he reached for an unopened bag of licorice. Grabbing a handful, he popped three pieces into his mouth, savouring the strong anise flavour as it traversed down his throat, almost burning in its intensity. It provided a fleeting sense of comfort, easing the edges of his turmoil.

Glancing at the time, Frankie realized it was almost 1 pm. He couldn't afford to delay any longer if he wanted to maintain Ella's well-established routine. You had always emphasized the importance of routine for babies since the moment you found out about the pregnancy, and Frankie wasn't about to fuck that up. So today he would spend time with Ella, give her all the love he possibly can. Then tonight, when everyone sleeps, Frankie knows he’ll dream of you, as he has for the past 4 months.

__________________________________________________________

The next day, 9h35 am

You sit in a cozy booth tucked away in the corner of a charming diner. From the moment you entered, you could feel that distinctive "Instagram vibe" floating in the air. It was clear that every aspect of the place had been meticulously arranged to appear mismatched, deliberately striving for an eclectic aesthetic to preserve the nostalgia of the old-fashioned diner. Yes, you thought to yourself, gentrification was at work here. Even a grand flower wall greeted visitors at the entrance, complete with a petite park bench—a perfect spot for capturing that perfect profile picture.

This wasn't the usual scene you and Frankie frequented. He was always camera-shy, and you weren't particularly inclined toward social media. Nonetheless, you sought out this neutral ground, guided by the Google reviews that promised private booths—a perfect setting for the long-overdue discussion with your husband.

You scan the surroundings, taking in the vintage posters and old photographs adorning the walls. The mismatched furniture and worn-out booths in shades of blues and oranges catch your attention, loud but not too overwhelming. It's like magic, this hipster vibe, you think. You try to catch a glimpse of the menu on the blackboard near the counter, but since you requested the quietest booth, sacrificing the view makes sense.

You always order the same thing anyway: a large latte with almond milk if they have it, with a touch of hazelnut. Frankie, on the other hand, goes for a black Americano with five shots of espresso, like the maniac he is. He would often playfully tease you about your choice, mocking that it wasn't "real coffee" if it needed to be drowned in milk and sugar. In response, you would scrunch your nose, adopting a faux haughty tone, and retort, "I don’t take food advice from someone who considers beer as its own food group” Like clockwork, Frankie would seize you, pulling you close, and plant a passionate kiss on your lips, whispering, "Sweet, just like you, my love."

A rush of nostalgia washes over you as you close your eyes, relishing the memory. Glancing at your watch, you note the time: 9:40. Knowing Frankie's punctuality, he would be arriving any moment now. In your shared understanding, being 15 minutes early was on time, being on time was considered late, and the mere thought of being late was inconceivable.

As you anxiously fold napkins into little origami birds, the distinct voice of your husband reaches your ears, engaging in conversation with the barista at the counter. "One Americano, five shots, and one large latte with almond milk and three pumps of hazelnut," he orders. Your head twists instinctively in the direction of the sound, and in that moment, your eyes lock with Frankie's. It's as if time had stalled, and Frankie, looking like his namesake, is like a fish out of water. The sight of you completely disorients him, leaving him breathless as if the wind has been knocked out of his lungs. Or rather, the water from his gills.

You fare no better. Seeing Frankie like this, looking so good—better than you've seen him in some time—sends a shot straight to your heart. You're happy to see him looking so well, but at the same time, a twinge inside whispers meanly in your ears, "You couldn't help him get himself here. You don't deserve Frankie like this; he deserves better than the scraps you can offer. He'd only stay for Ella, anyway." The voices are harsh, leaving you on unsteady ground.

You look down at the table, trying to silence the voice. "He remembers my coffee order. That ought to mean something," you think to yourself. The voice let’s out a cruel chuckle as if to say, "Sure, keep telling yourself that." Now, it resembles your mother's voice, and you shake your head to rid yourself of the thought. You don't want to have a complete meltdown in the coffee shop on the very first day you get to see your husband again. You already feel bad enough that you couldn't be there when he left rehab. "What kind of wife am I?" Your heart breaks. "A shitty one," your mother's voice answers with fake saccharine sweetness.

After composing yourself, you raise your eyes again toward Frankie, who seems frozen in front of you. The torment of seeing him so close, yet still out of reach after four long months, feels like a form of exquisite torture. Your hands weakly wave in his direction, accompanied by a shy smile. Shyness—an unfamiliar feeling when it comes to Frankie; in fact, it's quite the opposite of the easiness that marked even the beginning of your relationship. Frankie always felt like your home, and to feel so uncomfortable with yourself is a feeling you are rather unused to having with your husband.

After enduring a couple of excruciating minutes, Frankie finally approaches you, skillfully balancing a tray with your two drinks and two muffins. A smile escapes your lips, appreciating Frankie's thoughtfulness once again. He places the tray on the table with a resounding thump, causing the dark liquid of his Americano to threaten an escape from the oversized mug. Frankie's face flushes with a cute red hue as he stammers awkwardly, "I got you your usual coffee. I figured you wouldn't stop loving hazelnut in your coffee in 4 months." Regret etches itself onto his face, and he continues, "Not that there would be anything wrong with that. You can change your mind. You can get what you..." His words trail off as self-doubt seeps in, "I should have asked. I shouldn't have just assumed. I can go back and order something else..."

"Frankie!" The sound of your voice interrupts his rambling. "Hazelnut is great, as I always tell you. It's the..." Before you can finish your sentence, Frankie jumps in, completing it with a small smile, "Superior nut."

"I also got a blueberry and a carrot muffin. You can take whichever you want," he offers. You return the smile, playfully teasing, "I know for a fact you want that blueberry muffin, Francisco Morales." You look back at Frankie with a wide grin, continuing, "It’s almost as if you knew that carrot is my favourite, so I’d leave blueberry for you." Frankie’s answer is his signature sheepish smile as he plucks the blueberry one from the tray and dugs into his muffin. You do the same, meticulously separating the top of the muffin from its bottom and creating little nibbles of carrot goodness.

After a beat, you kindly offer, "You look good, Frankie. Really good, actually. I'm genuinely glad to see you looking so well." Frankie's smile widens to the point where it could blind you. "Thank you," he says with gratitude. "I've been working really hard, but I think it paid off you know. I do feel better.” Frankie stops, chewing his lips as if he thinking what to say next, “I won't lie to you; rehab was really hard, one of the hardest things I’ve done. And it's still challenging, there are days that seem insurmountable. But at least now, I understand what I was doing wrong— not seeking help, being stubborn, thinking I could handle everything on my own." As he speaks, he places his hand on top of yours, which rests on the side of the table. "Not talking to you will always be my biggest regret.”

Your breath hitches in your throat, and you feel your palm growing clammy under his touch. Yet, you resist the urge to pull away, aware that it might be the wiser choice. Frankie has just opened the door to start talking about everything that has transpired in the last couple of months and everything that lies ahead in the coming years. But you're uncertain if you're ready for that conversation. Once you start talking, it becomes undeniably real. The decisions you make today will shape the future for you, Frankie, and Ella. The weight of that responsibility bears down on you, leaving you feeling both anxious and overwhelmed. The room becomes smaller and smaller as if the walls are closing down on you.

You withdraw your hand, trying to alleviate the pressure and make a show of grabbing your coffee, taking a big gulp to buy yourself a moment of respite. Frankie's expression turns disappointed, but you're unsure of what to do next. The silence hangs in the air, heavy with unspoken words and unaddressed emotions.

"I saw the new plush toy when I picked up Ella from Mrs. Hu yesterday. She seemed to love the unicorn. Thank you," you offer, attempting to break the tension. Frankie's smile flickers back, albeit weaker this time. "I wasn't sure if it was okay, but I wanted to get her something nice. I've missed her so much.”

"You're Ella's father, Frankie. Of course, it's okay for you to buy her things. She loves you," you reassure him, trying to offer some comfort amidst the complexity of your feelings. "I love her too. And I love you, mi cielo. I'm so, so sorry about everything. There aren't enough lifetimes for me to show you how deeply sorry I am for all that I’ve done. For everything that I didn’t do. But I am so sorry, and I intend to make up for it every day for the rest of our lives," Frankie earnestly declares.

You chew on your lip, your thoughts racing as you struggle to find the right words. It's time to confront the truth, to express the raw emotions that have been swirling within you. "I don't need you to make up for it, Frankie. I needed you to... I wanted... I don't know how to say it," you confess, your voice raw and vulnerable.

Frankie's expression shifts, a mixture of guilt and bitterness. "You needed your husband not to be a major fuck-up. You don't have to pretend, I know," he admits, his voice laced with a hint of self-disgust. "I'm trying so hard, mi cielo. I want to be the man you need me to be. I want to be the husband you deserve. The father Ella deserves.” “Frankie…”

"No, please, mi cielo, please. I need to say this," Frankie implores, his voice filled with urgency. He takes a deep breath, gathering his thoughts before continuing, "I've been doing a lot of talking in group therapy, but I've also been listening. I was trying to understand where I went wrong if there was something I could have done different. And there were many things, but I've realized that the drugs, they weren't the actual problem. They were more like a symptom of the real problem; my therapist helped me understand that they were more like a physical manifestation of what was wrong deep inside me. Taking drugs was my way of externalizing all the pain and turmoil that I was feeling i within. In a twisted way, I never truly believed that I deserved you or Ella, and maybe a part of me wanted to sabotage the good things in my life. I don't know. I don't want to lie to you and tell you that I'm completely cured, that I won't ever feel the urge to do reckless things when life becomes overwhelming. But I don't want to be that man anymore. I want to change.”

Frankie's words hang in the air, heavy with honesty and vulnerability. He looks into your eyes, his gaze filled with a mix of remorse and hope.

"I want to tell you why I feel this way," Frankie continues, his voice filled with conviction. "I want to share with you what I’ve gone through, I see how unfair I was to you by shutting you out of this large part of me. I want to open it to you and show you everything, the good, the bad the ugly. I mean, only if you still see yourself doing so sown the line.

You could see the sincerity etched on his face, the genuine desire to make amends and rebuild what was broken. His words resonated deep within you, stirring a mix of emotions.

"I know, Frankie. It's just... It's just that," you said, exhaling audibly and averting your gaze to the side, trying to collect your thoughts. "You know it's not that simple." As you settled your eyes back on Frankie, his face displayed a mix of understanding and devastation, realizing the weight of your words.

"So much has happened, and I don't want to rush into anything," you continued, your voice tinged with hesitation. "Perhaps we could keep the current dynamic, for now, allowing things to unfold a bit more slowly. With work calming down maybe we could take small steps towards building a stronger trust, maybe we could have dinner together as a trio a few times a week? I still want you to spend time with Ella as much as you want, but I also need to sort out my own thoughts and emotions before moving forward.”

A deep sigh escapes your lips as you continue, your voice trembling with vulnerability. "I know it might seem selfish, Frankie, but you really hurt me." Unable to contain your emotions any longer, a sob escaped, your resolve weakened by the pain. "You hurt me deeply, and now, I'm left questioning whether I can truly trust you." The tears wells up, despite your best efforts to hold them back, betraying the depth of your hurt and confusion.

Frankie's leg begins to bounce restlessly as he absorbs your words. "Mi cielo..." he murmurs softly, his voice filled with a mix of concern and longing.

"Look, Frankie, I'm not saying that I don't want us to find our way back to each other," you start, trying to articulate your thoughts as clearly as possible. "I just... I don't know what I want. I thought I would have it all figured out by the time you left the center, but it feels like I'm still as lost as the day I found you on that couch after you got busted. It's like I've been living in this constant haze, and now that you're here and you want to open up and work on us and our family, I can't help but feel overwhelmed with fear. So, so scared."

Your voice trembles with vulnerability as you continue, bearing your deepest concerns. "I'm afraid that history will repeat itself. I'm scared of ending up like my mother—bitter, angry, and becoming a bad mom to Ella. The thought terrifies me." Taking a deep breath, you fight to steady your racing heart. "Frankie, I don't know exactly what I want right now, but I do know that I want to do what's best for Ella. She deserves a loving and stable environment, and I need to ensure I can provide that."

Frankie looks down at his hand, his fingers fidgeting nervously, and swallows with difficulty. His Adam's apple bobbing harshly against his skin. "I... I understand," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. Closing his eyes momentarily, he musters the courage to ask the question that weighs heavily on his mind.

"Can I... Can I ask you something?" Frankie's voice wavers as he seeks your permission. "Of course, you can ask me anything," you reply, your tone filled with reassurance.

"Thanks, it's part of my new 'communication policy.' I'm trying to make my wants heard and all that," Frankie says, passing his hand across the nape of his neck in a nervous gesture. "If something comes up at home... you... Are you going to call me to fix it? I mean, you could call me at like 3 am, and I would rush home, you know that right?"

Looking at Frankie, a mix of uncertainty and bewilderment on your face, you respond, "Yes, of course, Frankie. I will always call you if something comes up. Why are you asking that?" Frankie's expression shifts to one of shame, and a vibrant shade of pink tinged the tip of his nose.

"I just... argh! You're going to think it's so stupid. It's just... I saw the video," Frankie confesses, his voice laden with vulnerability. Perplex, you ask, "What video?"

Unsure if you could be any more confused, Frankie explains, "The video with Ella and Benny. Will told me that Ben was there to fix the fan in the bathroom. And he was there the first time Ella crawled. It's stupid, I know. Benny is like a brother, and I know you wouldn't do anything to hurt me like that. But I felt so insecure and inadequate when I saw the video. I was in rehab, unable to help myself, while Benny was being the man of the house for you and Ella, and..."

Feeling a surge of empathy and understanding, you reach out to him, placing your hand on top of his and squeezing tightly. "Whatever happens, Frankie, you are Estrella's father, and nothing will ever change that. There is no one else that Ella loves more than her papa, you know." As you speak, Frankie let out a small scoff, doubting the truth of your words.

"No, no, no. It's true. I wouldn't lie to you about that," you affirm, looking into his eyes with sincerity. "Do you know why Ella started to crawl that day? It's because of you, Frankie." His gaze fills with uncertainty, Frankie asks, "What do you mean? I wasn't even there."

"No, you weren't physically there, but I played the voice recording you made every day for Ella. And while I was helping Benny remove the old fan, I guess the recording stopped. Ella just wanted to hear more stories from her papa. She was crawling toward you, Frankie."

Frankie's emotions overflow at your words, and he can’t contain his response any longer. "I can't... I thought... My god, what did I think?!" His voice cracks with anguish as tears stream down his face, making him appear years younger, vulnerable like a child seeking reassurance. "I would never think that you... It's just me, I am the problem, and... Ella was crawling because of me?"

You nod, your voice filled with tenderness. "Yeah, she was. Because she loves you, Frankie. You never have to worry about that."

Frankie's tears continue to flow, but there was a glimmer of relief in his eyes. "It's all I've ever wanted, being worthy of her, being worthy of you and your love," he confessed, baring his heart.

"Frankie..." you began, but he interrupts, "You don't have to say anything. It's okay," Frankie reassures you, a small smile gracing his face. "I'm just so glad I got to see you today, to talk. It was a long time coming."

"Yeah," you admit, your own smile forming. "I like this “open communication Frankie”. Do you know if he is planning on hanging around?”

Frankie lets out a laugh, the sound carrying a sense of newfound hope. "Oh yeah, him and “emotionally healing Frankie” are planning on settling down around here for a long time."

Your smile widens, warmth spreading through your heart. "I'm so glad you're better, and I am so glad you are home, Frankie."

"Me too, mi cielo. Me too."

________________________________________________________

That same night

As you settle in the comfort of your bed, a soft glow from the bedside lamp casting a warm ambiance, your eyes fix on Ella peacefully slumbering in the crib stationed at the foot of your bed. The events of earlier in the day dance vividly in your mind, refusing to release their grip on your thoughts.

The memory of Frankie's face haunts you—the subtle but unmistakable disappointment he tried to conceal when you mustered the courage to confess that you needed more time. The weight of that moment bears down on you, leaving you unsure. You can’t help but question yourself, wondering how much pain your hesitations were causing him. How much pain it was causing you. The flood of confusion and doubt was starting to overwhelm you.

As you lay there, the rhythmic rise and fall of Ella's chest serving as a soothing lullaby, you realize that love was a delicate dance. It required patience, understanding, and forgiveness. And in that dance, you and Frankie had stumbled, fumbling through the steps, yet you always found the strength to hold each other up. Were you holding him right now though? Was your dance so out of step that you couldn’t catch each other anymore?

You groan and roll over in bed, hoping that sleep would bring you some clarity. However, as soon as you close your eyes, you open them again and see the clock glaring back at you, displaying the time as 9:45 pm. Instantly filled with urgency, you leap out of bed like a woman possessed, making sure not to wake baby Ella. You hurry over to the small desk on the other side of the room, where you keep important papers. Frankie had also used this desk as a workspace sometimes when he didn’t want to bother you while you were making dinner. You could almost see him, sitting on the small chair, dwarfing the desk with his large frame and checking with various weather stations around the county if flying would be possible in the upcoming days. Those were the good days, you think to yourself, simple yet you would give anything to go back to them. You reach the desk in less than 3 strides, and you hastily pull open the top drawer. You retrieve Frankie's letter that had been sitting there, untouched, for the past four months. You had been avoiding it, trying not to think about it, but now the pull was too strong. Clutching the letter close to your chest, your hands trembling, you bring it back to bed. You turn on the bedside lamp, setting it to its lowest brightness, casting a soft golden glow in the room—enough light for you to read but not disturb Ella's sleep.

You stared at the envelope as if it had the power to scorch your fingertips, fully aware that its contents very well could. Gritting your teeth, you tear through the envelope, taking out the piece of paper adorned with Frankie's handwriting. It lay before you, an expansive canvas etched with the raw emotions of his pen. Inhaling deeply, you brace yourself and commence reading, finally ready to confront whatever lay within those written words.

Mi Cielo,

I'm trembling as I pen these words to you. Tomorrow, I am finally taking your advice from months ago and I am going to check myself into rehab. It has become evident that one truth remains steadfast in our marriage: you are always right, mi corazón.

Depending on when you read this, I might be in rehab or have already completed my time away from you. Perhaps I am even at your side right now! Reading these words together with you, cringing behind your shoulder. If that is the case, let me warn my future self: you had better treat her well, pendejo. Do not repeat the same foolish mistakes I made.

You burst into laughter, the sound echoing in the room, at the same time Ella’s squeal rings out from her crib. Holding your breath momentarily, you listen for any more sounds, but the silence reassures you. Letting out a sigh of relief, you turn your attention back to Frankie's letter.

During these past five days since I left our home, I have been replaying our life together in my mind. Every time, I am confronted with how much I fell short of being the person you deserved. If I could turn back time to those moments when you looked at me with your caring eyes, asking if something was wrong and how you could help, I would be honest with you. I would not hide the nightmares that haunt me, the overwhelming feeling I get from the sound of a garbage truck, or the fact that I am not okay when I pretend to be. Mi Cielo, I am sorry to admit that you have married a weak man, and for that, I apologize.

Apologies are just the beginning; words alone cannot fix everything. That is why I am going to rehab—to become the man you and Ella deserve, and because I want to improve myself too. I have realized that I have forgotten what it truly means to be alive. For too long, I have merely existed, following orders and going through the motions of life. Now that I have the freedom to make my own choices, it is as if I have forgotten how to do so. I need to learn and grow. I am scared, mi cielo. The thought of being away from you and our little Estrellita makes me feel sick. But I know it is the right thing to do, even if it tears me apart to leave you and our baby.

I will put in the work, and when I return to you, my love, you will never be alone again. I will be there by your side, committed to building the life we once dreamed of. Do you remember those letters you sent me while I was overseas? You painted a picture of calm evenings in our backyard, summer getaways to a lakeside chalet with our friends, and long lazy weekends in bed—a simple and perfect life. That is what I desire, mi cielo.

I lost my way because I could not face the man I had become, a man I did not want to be for you. Despite my intentions to spare you from pain, I ended up causing you so much hurt—the very thing I swore I would never do. I became lost, but now I am determined to find my path again. And when I rediscover my true self, I will catch up to you, embracing you in my arms, and we will walk the rest of our lives together. Side by side.

No matter what lies ahead, mi cielo, know that you are my everything.

Te amo, mi cielo, and I will see you sooner than you think. The day I see you again, I plan to shower you with love until my last breath. Every passing moment intensifies the yearning within me to hold you in my arms once more, to show you the man I have discovered within myself. I love you and will keep on loving you from afar.

Yours forever,

Frankie

Your body trembles involuntarily, tears cascading down and staining the letter in your grasp. Emotions surge through you, overwhelming and dizzying. The relentless question echoes in your mind: Why must everything be so tangled and convoluted? In your heart, you know the truth—you love Frankie, and he loves you. It was the one thing that has always remained steadfast, this bond between you and Frankie that has weathered many storms and endured even more hardships, but which remains there to this day. Maybe it is more delicate today, more tattered, and fragile, but it exists still, the letter and Frankie’s efforts are proof of that. You can feel it in your bones. Shouldn't that love be sufficient? It could be, you think. You sprint out of bed and leave the bedroom, grabbing your phone that was resting on the table next to your bed.

Urgently, you bolt out of bed and hastily exit the bedroom, snatching your phone from the nearby table. As you hurriedly make your way to the kitchen, your fingers dial a familiar number, and you anxiously await the response on the other end. Finally, a voice answers, "Hello?"

"Hey, Will. I'm sorry to disturb you at this late hour," you say, your words tinged with nervous excitement. "Do you think you could come over and watch Ella for an hour or two? There's something I need to take care of and it can’t wait for the morning."

_______________________________________________

Frankie pours a splash of soy milk into his bowl filled with honey-nut Cheerios. Soy milk isn't his preferred choice due to its texture, but his mother has fully embraced the diary-free way of life apparently. He isn't particularly fond of Cheerios either; it's been years since he last had them. Yet, he hopes that eating something familiar will bring a sense of comfort and help ease his frayed nerves.

Frankie lets out a weary sigh, realizing the need to stop dwelling on what transpired between you both earlier. As he had anticipated, you handled the situation with kindness, even offering apologies when there was no need. His therapist's words echoed in his mind—you needed time, and that was perfectly all right. He knows that not everything could always align with his timeline. The important thing was that he would still have the opportunity to see you and spend time with Ella. Nothing was truly lost, at least not yet.

With a renewed sense of determination, Frankie reminds himself to stay positive and walk alongside you on this journey you are undertaking. Pushing for a hasty decision would only impede both of you in the long run. Today, Frankie recognizes the significance of establishing his own boundaries and he must now respect yours. He's committed to doing so, honouring your need for space and allowing the necessary time for decisions to be made. Together, you'll navigate this path, supporting one another every step of the way.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

Frankie hastily finishes the last spoonful of Cheerios, his gaze shifting towards the oven clock: 10:25? It seems late for someone to be arriving at the house. Especially unannounced. Aware that his mother is already asleep due to her early morning work schedule, Frankie hesitates to disturb her. Could he have forgotten something with Pope or Will? Maybe Benny needed to talk to him; he had been neglecting their friendship since his return from rehab, and he needed to make amends for that. He reminds himself that his own insecurities shouldn't hinder the love he holds for his old friend. Frankie makes his way to the front of the house and opens the door, “A bit late for knocking on people’s ….”

However, the words catch in his throat as Frankie beholds the sight before him. There you stand, clad in his oversized shirt that engulfs you in a sea of fabric, paired with small black shorts. It tugs at his heartstrings. "Mi cielo... What are you doing here? Is everything alright, did something happen? Where is Ella?" he exclaims, a mixture of surprise and concern etching across his face.

“Ella is with Will, at home.” you answer “With Will?! But why…”

"I read your letter," you say with apprehension. Frankie can feel his heart racing, pounding in his chest, as he braces himself for your words. "Mi cielo, that letter..."

"No, please. Now, I want to talk. Please let me, Frankie," you interrupt, pleading for your chance to speak. Frankie nods fervently, allowing you to continue.

"For so long, I've been consumed with worry for you, Frankie. I saw that you were suffering, but I couldn't reach you because you never let me in. It made me so angry and hurt. And I know it may sound selfish, but your struggles with addiction felt like a reflection of my failure as a wife. But now I understand that it's not the case. I could never have helped you unless you wanted to help yourself. And you have, Frankie, and I am incredibly proud of you.”

Your voice quivers with emotion as you confess all the thoughts that have lived in your mind these past months. "I know that our paths have been diverging for a while, but I still love you. I will always love you. There hasn't been anyone else I've loved as deeply as I love you, Frankie. Since that night at the bar, I knew you were the one for me. And I know it can’t be that easy, even if I want it to be. If love could cure all wounds, we wouldn’t be there right now. And I know that I don’t want things to go back to how it was before because it wasn’t right for us. The non-talking, the avoidance, the walking on eggshells. It can’t go on like before Frankie, if we do this, I want us to grow together, I want us to be on this journey together, as long as you promise to be with me, with all your being then I want to be with you. I want us to try together, to really try - the both of us.”

"Those four months without you, Frankie were like living in my own personal hell. I can't bear the thought of spending any more time apart than necessary," you express, your voice trembling with raw emotion. "I'm not ready for you to come back and sleep in our room just yet, but what if we set up a bed in the nursery? We can take it slow, see how it feels, and go from there. The important thing is that we do it together. You always tell me that I am your sky, and Ella is your precious little star, but, Frankie, you are my sun. Despite the clouds that have overshadowed us, I need to have my sun back in my life.”

You take a deep breath, your eyes locking with Frankie's. A broad grin spreads across his face, and he gently says, "Come here, mi cielo." Without hesitation, you launch yourself into his open arms, seeking solace in his warm embrace. Soft sobs escape your lips as Frankie holds you tightly, nuzzling the top of your head. It feels like a long-awaited reunion, a return to the safety and love that only his embrace can provide. In this moment, you realize how deeply you missed him and how irreplaceable he is in your life.

"I'll sleep on the floor in the bathroom, mi cielo, if that means I get to be with you and Ella again," Frankie says earnestly, his words filled with devotion.

You let out a snort, snuggling even closer to him. "No need to be dramatic, the nursery will be more than enough," you reply, a mix of amusement and relief washing over you. Frankie smiles, his lips pressing against your hair as he hums softly.

"We'll take it one day at a time, all right?" you suggest, your voice filled with a blend of hope and love, as you lean into Frankie's embrace.

"Yes, mi Cielo, one day at a time," Frankie affirms softly, his voice tinged with tenderness. His arms encircle you tighter, refusing to let you slip away. In that moment, you can feel the strength of his commitment, his quiet dedication to rebuilding what was broken. To mend the love of your little family.

As you both stand there, wrapped in each other's arms, the weight of the moment crashes on you. It's not about going back to how things were before; it's about forging a new path together. The hardships you've faced have reshaped both of you, moulding you into stronger individuals. Now, it's time to rebuild your love, piece by piece.

One day at a time, you will rebuild, and hand in hand, you will mend the broken pieces of yourselves back together again. In your heart, you know that it will be enough because together you are the better part of yourselves. For what is the sky without its sun? The sun's gentle rays bring warmth and beauty, and Frankie was always able to illuminate your life, filling it with love, joy, and meaning. And what is the sun without its sky? Just as the sky embraces the sun, you, like the sky, are Frankie's shelter and support. Your love and presence create the foundation for his warmth, his reason to illuminate the world. Together, you know that you can weather any storm and chase all the clouds away.

You love Frankie and he loves you, and for tonight as he holds you close in his arms that you have missed so much, that is enough. The rest will come one day at a time.

Epilogue

45 notes · View notes

fortheloveofarchons · 1 month

Text

Xiao turned into a bird and Aether takes care of him

C.W.

- Kiss and make up - Potion making - Xiao | Alatus being a birb - Hu Tao, Zhongli, Paimon and Verr Goldet mentioned in this chapter

The letter that Aether had received back in Wangshu Inn seemed like an urgent letter, with only a few sentences written on the paper.

I have heard that you are currently back in Liyue. It is of great timing for you to come to the Wangsheng Funeral Parlour immediately. As for the issue at hand… I’m afraid it’s about Xiao.

“Aether! Slow down!” Paimon flies from behind, trying to catch up with him. “Paimon can’t fly that fast…”

Aether ran as fast as he could, sweat beading out of his forehead, his legs slowly getting tired. Yet, his mind persists. The moment Aether runs up to the red bridge in Chihu Rock, he sees the familiar building with golden-red pillars and green roof tiles.

Along with a familiar lady with the plum blossom hat and the man with dark brown hair.

“Mr Zhongli! Director Hu Tao!” Aether chokes out his words, his hands holding onto his knees to steady himself. Raising his head, he sees that Hu Tao’s expression remained unchanging: A gleeful smile on her face.

As for Zhongli, his geo-coloured eyes flicker to worry.

“What happened–” Aether asks on an exhale. “Where’s Xiao? Is everything okay?”

“About that…” Zhongli points to Hu Tao’s hat. Aether turns to her, his eyes narrowing as he attempts to decipher the cryptic message. Hu Tao’s eyebrows rose along with her smile, and she took her hat off, flipping it upside down for Aether to witness.

With a raised eyebrow, Aether takes a step forward, only for his eyes to become wide.

A round-bodied bird, whose feathers are adorned in shades of teal, with the familiar purple diamond mark on its forehead.

“Xiao?!” Aether immediately grabs the hat with his hands, watching as the little bird is resting peacefully inside Hu Tao’s hat.

Paimon takes a look from behind, only to cover their mouth in shock. “Wh– What happened?!”

“Again, about that…” Zhongli lets out a sigh, rubbing his forehead in frustration. “Do you remember when you and Paimon conducted an alchemical business selling different kinds of potions?”

“Oh yeah!” Paimon replies, nodding their head enthusiastically. Their head could only recall the amount of mora they have earned. “We sold a lot of potions, and we learned a lot of things!”

“Then, do you remember when Director Hu Tao had made a bulk order on the ingredients?”

Paimon scratches their head, trying to understand the meaning behind this question.

Aether steps in and replies on Paimon’s behalf instead. “She ordered a large batch of a variety… but…”

Aether’s mouth fell open as the gears clicked in his head.

“D– Don’t tell me…” Aether turns to her, his lips becoming slack as his terror grows. “Did you try to make your own potions and use them on Xiao?!”

“Hey, hey~” Hu Tao closes her eyes as waves her arms defensively. “For the record, I was trying to be experimental for my business. Business is slow these days, so I thought if I try to conduct a few harmless potions it would be beneficial for my work! And– I could gain more customers!”

“Director…” Aether’s entire body became impossibly still, his hands clutching onto the under brim of Hu Tao’s hat. “Your business is about conducting funerals!”

“Aiya~~ I was trying to sell some healing potions for them!” Hu Tao clenches her fists, shaking her hands in protest. “I know my business tactics have been off, so I wanted to try something called… reverse psychology! If I were to sell these healing potions, this would make my clients feel safe when they think about Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, and perhaps I could repair my relationship with Doctor Baizhu with these potions as a peace offering.”

An imaginary black and white thread forms into a convoluted tornado in Aether's mind, trying his best to understand how that would really work if the healing potions came from a business that deals with death.

“I…”

Zhongli makes a subtle cough, covering his mouth. “Point being, it appears that after the consumption of Hu Tao’s potion, Adeptus Xiao had temporarily transformed into a little bird.”

Aether’s golden eyes glint with hope from hearing that word.

“Temporarily?” Aether asks, taking a step forward to Zhongli. “You mean… Can he be saved?”

“It would take time, but yes.”

Zhongli stretches his arm out to the interactable wooden board, a sign for the two of them to chat privately. Giving a short nod in return, the two of them walk over to the board while Paimon bombards Hu Tao with more questions.

“Although I was an archon back then, I had to ask Madame Ping and Cloud Retainer for advice before you came.” Zhongli folds his arm, a signature move by the man who used to be the Geo Archon. “They’ve said that since the potion is pretty much harmless, Xiao would be able to revert back to his original self by today.”

“Then… Why summon me here?” Aether asks. Just then, the bird wakes up from his nap, and blinks at Aether. Once, twice, thrice, then immediately flies up, making chirping noises before he rests on Aether’s soft hair. Aether couldn’t help but let out a laugh, his heart now in a steady beat from Zhongli’s reassuring words and Xiao’s activeness.

“I need you to take care of him for today. Director Hu Tao and I had to deal with the sticky mess that she made in her office.” Zhongli’s head turns to stare at the two of them, with Paimon’s bickering and Hu Tao’s argumentative verses, it certainly raises a few eyebrows from the passersby. “It would take a while, and I trust that you are careful and delicate with animals.”

“Uh… Yes, very delicate.”

A sweat drops down from Aether’s chin, thinking back to all those times when he slaughtered some Sumpter Beasts with his blade for some raw meat, freezing fishes with his cyro elemental powers so he could make some grilled fish, and killing the pack of pigeons that resides on the bridge at Mondstadt.

That petrified look on Timmy’s face was priceless.

“Moreover, since this concerns the guardian yaksha, it's best to solve this issue for those that are close to him.” Zhongli gazes softly at Aether’s eyes. “And you, dear traveller, are one of them in Xiao’s heart.”

Aether’s cheeks were already pink from running, but Zhongli’s sentence pierced into Aether’s heart, making his face bright red like a Jueyen Chili.

“Is that so..?” Aether fans his face with his hand.

“I suppose it’s about time we should take our leave.” Zhongli walks over to Hu Tao and Paimon, giving one more glance to Aether. “When Xiao returns back to normal, inform us.”

“I will!” Aether makes a salute pose like those Favonius knights back in Mondstadt. Zhongli lets out a deep chuckle in return, and turns to Hu Tao.

“Director, shall we head inside to clean up the mess?”

“Let’s!” Hu Tao turns to Aether, her hand raising for her hat. Aether then returns the hat to her, and Hu Tao neatly puts it back on, but not before she adjusts the position on it. She lets out a hum in satisfaction once it settles neatly on her head.

“Mhm~! Take care of this silly little adeptus for me, will you?” Hu Tao gives him a wink before she bids farewell with a wave.

“Alright…” Aether turns around, but not before he hears a little bit of a conversation between Hu Tao and Zhongli.

“...It’s just a potion to make him a lil’ bit tired for him…”

“...It’s still wrong, Director…”

Tired? Tired from what? Aether ponders the question, but shakes his head in resignation. Meanwhile, Paimon flies next to him, looking up at Xiao resting on his head, then down at Aether, who is giving them a criminal offensive side eye.

“Don’t ask too much.” Aether folds his arms defensively. “Zhongli just wanted me to take care of him for a while.”

He then walks off with Xiao the little bird, while Paimon is scratching their head in confusion.

“Uh… Paimon hasn’t even said anything yet…”

Full chapter down below!

15 notes · View notes

thebulletproofbangtanboys · 1 year

Text

Like a Royal (Prince!Taehyung x Psychic!Reader) Soulmate!AU

Summary: Only those led by fate are meant to show up at Reader's doorstep. When Prince Taehyung shows up looking for a lost item, it's simple to say that the universe played a part in this unexpected love affair.

Word count: 5.1k

Genre: Smut, Fluff

Warnings: spanking, ass grabbing, oral (female receiving), unprotected sex, sex with a practical stranger

Royal festivals were never your thing. Neither were royal balls, royal coronations, royal christenings, or anything "royal" for that matter. There were reasons why you lived on the very outskirts of the kingdom. No, not the outskirts of the major village surrounding the castle. You were on theoutskirts. Your house and business were in a small, cottage-like structure in the woods about two miles from the closest building in the village. It was quiet and peaceful this far from the hub. The only time you had to deal with any other human was when fate allowed it, and you got a customer. They would stay for an hour at most and leave happy or distraught.

You didn't really have "friends." Sure, every once a while, you would talk to the nereids and dryads, but you would not necessarily call them your friends, mere acquaintances at most. You weren't exactly anti-social, either. You just needed the calmness of the forest to focus on your meditations and readings. You really couldn't do that with the constant hustle and bustle of people walking around and talking right outside of your door. Sure, being in the city would have helped with business, but you weren't in it for the money. You were in it to help the people who truly needed it, not those who wanted to know how to swindle another person out of money for their own gluttonous gains or how to make a potion so some young, perky girl would fall in love with a sleaze. If a person truly needed your help, fate would send them your way, and they would end up on your doorstep one way or another.

Another reason why the city bothered you so much was because nature walks would be rare and far between. You swore that you needed one at least once a week, rain or shine, if not more. It was how you were able to truly connect to nature. The way your bare feet would feel with exposed earth squishing between your toes was so calming yet exhilarating that you swore you could become one with Mother Nature. The smell of the trees and grass and dirt was especially intoxicating, even more so if a rain storm had just passed through. Gods, you loved the aftermath of a rain storm more than anything else in the world. The way the sunshine would bounce off of the small beads of water on the leaves, casting rainbows, was absolutely gorgeous to you. You would become so mesmerized by the colorful kaleidoscope that on most occasions, you would need to brace yourself against a tree to keep from falling over onto the ground.

Simply put, you would not be able to survive in the city. It was just not the place for you. That's why you decided to stake claim to the cottage in the woods.

One morning in your little cottage, you woke up to the pale yellow sun creeping through your pastel purple curtains, warming your face. You smiled to yourself as you shielded your now open eyes. The sound of birds twittering along with small Fae chattering away loudly came from right outside your slightly cracked window. Due to the open window, you could also smell the remnants of rain. Your smile widened as this was perfect walking weather.

You threw your quilt off of your body and onto the floor. You didn't want to waste a single second more in the house. In a tornado of fabric, you tripped into a soft, blue and silver long sleeved dress. You didn't even wait to put shoes on before you were out the door. In all honesty, you had forgotten about them. It had been a few weeks since this weather had made an appearance. The birds and Fae that had been sitting in your bushes shot off into the sky, startled by your slamming open the wooden back door. You called out an apology before childishly running off to your typical walking trail.

You slowed as reached a good distant in the thick woods. You paused for a moment and closed your eyes and tilted your head back. Thin rays of yellow sun dotted your face, and your face warmed where the sun hit. It made your face feel weird with the mixture of cool and warm. However, it was that weird feeling that made you love this weather the most.

You took in a deep breath and let the cool, damp air hit your lungs. The air was so damp that your lungs constricted, causing you to cough. You placed your hand on your chest in mere hopes that it would help, but alas, it didn't. As you lifted your head back up, your eyes caught something shiny in the distant, more shiny than the sun-shining raindrops on the leaves. After your cough had settled, you walked over to where you saw the shine.

Hidden in some grass right off of the dirt trail lay a magnificent ring. Curious, you picked the ring up. It was heavy, definitely made of pure metal and gem and assuredly expensive. In the center was a large, purple gem, a musgravite. You held it up to a sunbeam and marveled at how the ring sparkled despite the small bits of dirt that remained. The band was silver and was engraved with intricate designs. It was clearly made by a skilled craftsman.

Upon further inspection, you found what you thought to be a scratch on the inside of the band, but instead, it was a singular letter. A "V." You scrunched your eyebrows in confusion. V? Why would the letter V be on the inside of a ring? Unless...it was the owner's name!

Forgetting all about the walk, you sprinted back to your cottage. Rocks dug into the soles of your feet painfully, but you simply ignored them. You needed to find out who the owner of this ring was and get it back to them as soon as possible. Once you reached your cottage, you slammed open the front door, scaring the birds and Fae that had moved there after you had scared them earlier. The birds flew off to a nearby tree, and the Fae cursed at you before following suit. You ignored them and entered the shop part of your house.

This was where you conducted your business. The walls donned all different types of tapestries: constellations, zodiacs, tarot cards, and suns and moons. Tarot cards were tossed onto a small table that was covered by a deep purple and black cloth. Centered in the table was your crystal ball. On the other side of the room was a smaller table that held your incense tray and a cup of all of your incense and a box of matches. You plucked an incense stick out of the cup, placed it in the tray, lit the match, and held the match up to the end of the incense. You shifted your feet back and forth impatiently as you waited for the incense to take the flame. Once the tip was a bright, almost white, orange, you quickly strode over to the other table.

You plopped down in your plush, yet uncomfortable, seat and placed the ring on the table. You took a deep breath, trying to keep your breathing even. Spells weren't as effective if your blood pressure and heart rate were up. You cringed thinking about what happened the last time. You shook it off and let out a long breath. You then closed your eyes, keeping one hand over the ring and one over the crystal ball and started the incantation. With your eyes still closed, you waited for an image to pop in your head like one usually did, but it never came. You opened your eyes, confused. The spell should have worked. Maybe you were still too anxious.

You slowly breathed in and out for a minute or so more before attempting to do the spell again. Eyes closed once more, you still only saw the inside of your eyelids. There was no image to be found. You were sure you were using the right spell. It was the main one you used when you had customers. You were 100% sure you were correct with it, so why didn't it work?

Later that week, you were sitting at a creek some ways down your walking trail. Nereids and dryads sat around you in awe and wonder as you showed them the ring you had found just a few days prior. Fae you had never seen before had started showing up and creeping behind trees, bushes, and rocks. Even some of the fish were curious as they nipped away at your water-dipped toes.

"(Y/N), where did you find it?"

"Did you find out who it belongs to?"

"Are you going to sell it? I'm sure you could make a lot of money from it."

These were just some of the questions you received from the many Fae. Overwhelmed by all of the questions being presented to you at once, you didn't know where to start. Just as you were about to answer one, you would be asked by another. You basically sat there opening and closing your mouth like a fish.

Fortunately, a nereid by the name of Sila shouted over the rest to silence them. Sila was the closest thing you had to a friend out here in the forest. Everyone seemed to listen to her. She was the unofficial leader, you gathered. You thanked her before going on to speak.

"I was just taking a walk one day to come down here when I saw something sparkly. I went over to it and found this. There's a letter engraved on the inside of the band. A 'V.' I figured it might have been a name or something, so I went back to the cottage to try to find the owner. I tried the spell several times, but I couldn't find the owner. Pawning it just doesn't feel right, honestly."

"But what about all the money?" a younger nereid asked, flipping her long, dark hair over a shoulder and exposing a milky white breast.

You looked down at the ring and shrugged. "Money just doesn't appeal to me like it does most people. Besides, this ring probably means a lot to someone. They're probably looking for it, and if they are, fate will most likely swing them by my shop."

"Wait," Sila said. "You mentioned that the spell you used to find the owner didn't work, right?"

"Exactly," you responded.

"Are you sure it was the correct spell?"

You scrunched your eyebrows in confusion. "Of course, I do. I've used the spell plenty of times with customers. It's probably my most used spell, actually."

Sila's face lit up, and she kicked her feet in the water happily, making large splashes. When she calmed, she turned back to you and squealed. "(Y/N), do you know what this means?" You gave her a confused look. "When you use the spell to find someone or something, and the spell doesn't work, it means that your soulmate is involved somehow." At the sound of the news, the rest of the Fae became quickly excited.

"What? No. There's no way." You shook your head in disbelief. Soulmates? Was there even such a thing? Sure, you were a psychic, and you've read about soulmates before. However, who is to say that psychics weren't skeptical about some things as well?

"Of course, there is! Why else would you have thought that the spell hadn't have worked?"

Maybe Sila was right. You knew that spell better than you knew yourself. You could recite it forwards and backwards in any situation. However, there could have been other explanations for the spell not working...right?

"Look," Sila said, crossing her arms over her bare chest. "Let me come back to your place with you and try out the spell myself and see if it works or not."

You sighed. Sila was not one to usually take no for an answer, so you knew there was no getting out of this. You gave a simple nod, and the two of you were in your shop twenty minutes later.

Sila had her eyes closed with one hand over the ring and one over the crystal ball, just as you had been a few days ago. She recited the spell, and a few moments later, she began to speak.

"I see a man. He has blond hair, not bright blond. It's more of like a straw color like mine. He looks kind of fancy looking. A Lord or even a prince maybe? For some reason, the name Taehyung is popping out. Maybe that's his name?"

You stopped her. "Sila, there is no way that mysoulmate is a fuckingLordorprince. You're out of your mind."

"Then why am I seeing what I'm seeing?" she asked as she opened her eyes.

"I don't know!" You threw your hands up into the air in frustration. You huffed and ran a hand through your hair.

Sila stood up. "Look. Just think it over or something. If fate is truly meant to intervene or have you meet him in this way, let it happen. If it doesn't happen, then I don't know." She shrugged. "I've got to get back home." You nodded to her and bit on your index finger lightly as you thought. Sila went to the door and turned around as she opened it. "All I'm saying is think it over."

Over the course of the next few weeks, you tried not to think about any of it, but it was the one thing that clouded your mind. It clouded your mind so much that you barely left the house, even on those perfect weather days. You had few customers over the course of those weeks, but you tended to them all absentmindedly. You didn't even remember doing a majority of the spells or even what the people looked like.

One day, you were sitting at the table with the crystal ball and tarot cards, just analyzing the ring again as if you hadn't already memorized every little thing about it. As usual, your mind was clouded with thoughts. At first, you didn't even hear the knock on the door. When the knock became louder and more persistent, you were stripped from your thoughts and jumped in surprise. You quickly got up, slipped the ring into your dress pocket, and went over to the door.

"May I help y-" You stopped yourself when you opened the door and saw the person in front of you.

This customer was male. He had straw blonde hair with naturally tannish skin. A few freckles dashed his elegant features. He was tall and handsome and...He was dressed quite fancily in velvety and silky purple clothing. Holy shit. He was the man that Sila had described when she was here. She never mentioned that he was quite this handsome, though.

"You should probably close your pretty little mouth. Don't want to catch any flies," a deep, gruff voice said.

It took you a second to realize that the voice had come from the man in front of you and that you were staring at him. You closed your mouth and cleared your throat. You took a breath and tried your words once again.

"How can I help you?" you asked.

"You're a psychic, right?" There came that deep voice again. It was intoxicating to you, and he had only spoken a few sentences.

"Yes, of course."

"Good. That means that you can help me find what I'm looking for."

He lost something. Another check mark off of the list for soulmate guy.

"Oh? What is this item you are looking for? Perhaps, I can help."

"A ring," he stated clearly.

Your heart skipped a beat, and your breathing hitched. You swallowed thickly as your throat had just suddenly run dry.

"A-a ring you say? Perhaps you could describe this ring. Knowing as many details as possible helps me find the item faster and easier." You tried to keep your composure, but you were failing. You could only pray that this man didn't notice.

The man put a finger to his chin as he thought for a moment. After all, it had been about a month since he had seen the ring last. He would have seen it sooner, but he had only found out about you a few days ago.

"Well," he started. "The ring is made of pure silver. It's made for that of a man. A size 9.5 if you want to get specific. In the center is a purple gem, a musgravite, so not a simple, cheap gem."

"Does it happen to have a letter engraved into it?" Your throat felt thicker, anxious for the answer.

"Yes! It does! A V! So, have you seen it?"

You felt all of the blood drain from your face, and your vision became spotty for a moment.

"I need to sit down," you muttered as you walked over to the table and placed yourself in one of the uncomfortable chairs.

"A-are you alright?" the man asked, noticing your changed demeanor.

You shakily reached into your pocket and pulled out the ring before placing it on the table. The man came closer to the table and looked down.

"That's my ring," he said not a moment later, astonished. "How-"

"I found it in the forest, right off of the walking trail. I tried looking for the owner, but I couldn't," you meekly said, a hand covering your mouth as you tried to control the butterflies in your stomach.

"But I thought you were a psychic."

"I am. However, answer me this. Is your name Taehyung?"

You slowly looked up at the man. His face had now paled as yours had done just a few minutes before.

"No one has called me that in years. Psychic or not, how did you know that?" His voice had raised a little, not out of anger or of fear but of confusion.

You breathed in deeply, formulating your next words. "The reason why I couldn't find you to deliver this ring was because, apparently, if a psychic's vision is blurred on something, that means that their soulmate is involved. I didn't believe it, at least not until now."

"Then, how did you know?"

"An acquaintance of mine helped me out. She found you and told me everything."

"How do I know if you're telling the truth? How do I know if you're not lying?" Taehyung crossed his arms across his chest.

You shakily got up from your seat and walked over to a bookshelf. Shortly after Sila had told you about the whole soulmate business, she came by your place and gave you a thin hardback book labelledSoulmates: How to Tell if They are the One or Just a Waste of Your Time. You pulled it off of the shelf and turned to a page you had looked over plenty of times. You were still slightly skeptic about it all, but things were turning with each new piece of evidence being brought to the surface.

"It says here that if soulmates are to kiss and make love, an instant and unbreakable connection is supposed to take hold. One of-"

"Hold on a second," Taehyung interjected. "I barely know you, and you start coming at me with this soulmate stuff a-a-and making love? This is crazy."

"Believe me, I know. That's what I thought, too, until everything Sila had said about the situation has come true." You sighed. "Look. I know this is ludicrous and outrageous, but what hurt is there in trying? Either you get a one night stand and never have to think about it again, or you get a soulmate for the rest of your life. Besides, how else would I have known your name?"

Taehyung stood there for a moment before stepping towards you. He took your face in his hands and crashed his lips onto yours. You instantly melted into it. It was the best kiss you ever had, and the way his lips conformed to yours just felt perfect and...right. You wrapped your arms around his neck, and he snaked his arms around your waist.

Your hands trailed up his neck to the nape and through his soft locks. There, you grabbed a fistful of hair and pulled, exposing his neck, which you lightly bit. A small noise came from Taehyung's mouth, making you smile softly to yourself. You then latched your mouth to his neck and sucked like a thirsty newborn vampire. Shallow, quick breath sounds passed through Taehyung's lips as he rode in the small but definite ecstasy.

However, he quickly came to his senses and pulled a fistful of your own hair, growling in response. A tiny bit of fear mixed with a lot of pleasure glistened in your eyes.

"Don't worry, my dear. I won't hurt you... Much that is. I do have to show someone here who the boss truly is," he whispered roughly into your ear before attacking your own neck.

Loud moans came from your mouth as he instantly found the sweet spot right under your jaw. You clawed desperately at the royal fabric this handsome man donned. With how much lust and wanting you were feeling, you didn't even care if you tore his expensive clothing. He lived such a lavish life that he could probably buy an entire wardrobe filled with clothing such as what he was wearing a million times over and barely make a dent in his pocketful of money. Without another thought, disregarding the buttons on his blouse, you tore the shirt right off of his shoulders. Buttons popped off, scattering across the room, and bouncing off of various objects.

Suddenly, the backs of your legs hit up against a solid surface. You looked behind you to see your bookshelf, and you turned towards Taehyung. A smirk dazzled his light pink lips, and mischief danced sinfully in his piercing eyes. He put his lips lightly back to yours, and it quickly became heated once more.

Your nails scraped down his back. His hands grabbed a hold of your hips and pulled them towards his own. Taehyung's knee slid between yours. With that knee, he moved one of yours away from the other, spreading your legs in the process. At the same time, Taehyung moved his thigh to your core, causing some slight friction and, ultimately, pleasure. You broke from the influx of kisses and hid your face in the crook of Taehyung's neck as the intensity kept building. You rocked your hips, essentially riding his thick, muscular thigh. Small mewls of pleasure made their way to Taehyung's ears between tiny nibbles of his neck.

The sound of Taehyung's deep chuckle almost sent you over. He was amused to say in the least. To see you coming undone, and he had barely done a thing, barely even touched you. You were doing it all yourself by simple thoughts and actions.

"Someone's eager," he whispered in your ear, sending chills down your spine.

You said nothing as you focused on the pleasure between your thighs. You were stopped just short of reaching that much needed climax as Taehyung moved his thigh away from you. You whimpered in retaliation and gave him a pleading look.

"You really think I was going to let you get off without tasting you first?" He smirked as your face went flush with a deep crimson. Your face heated to such a level you thought it would catch fire.

Before you could fully recover from his words, you felt him lift your dress and tug at the waistband of your undergarments. You slid your hands down to meet his and guide the obstructing clothing off of your body. He wasted no time in tossing them to the side and sneaking back under the hem of your dress.

You felt him place his hands on the insides of your knees to try to spread them apart, but you were nervous and tried to keep them closed. However, Prince Taehyung was having none of that. He peeked out from under the skirt and gave you a reassuring look. You decided to forget your nerves for just a second and let him do as he saw fit.

Next thing you knew, you felt light kisses on the insides of your thighs as he alternated between them. The further up he got, the more on edge you became. However, this time, it was more excitement than it was nervousness. He then gave a sudden, yet gentle, bite on your inner thigh right next to your core. You gasped in surprise. That gasp quickly turned into a moan as V placed his lips to your core and began to flick his tongue over your bundle of nerves.

It felt light and sweet at first, but the more he continued, the more intense it became. Your ears and feet began to feel hot with ecstasy. You grabbed the back of his head through the fabric of your skirt and pushed him closer to you. He noticed you were getting closer to your climax and kept the same rhythm but became a little more intense with pressure - not enough to change the ecstasy you were feeling but rather to let you know that he understood your unspoken words.

He reached his hand up closer to you and inserted finger inside. You tilted your head against the bookcase, and your eyes rolled into the back of your head. As he inserted the second finger, you bit your lip, trying to contain any noises that may escape. The combination of his fingers moving against your G-spot and his mouth on your clit sent the heat to the pit of your stomach where you felt that knot tightening. It became tighter and tighter as Taehyung continued his magic.

Your moans loudly filled the air as that knot snapped into one of the best highs you ever had. Your legs shook so badly you thought you were going to fall to the floor in an orgasmic mess. A shiver sent itself down your spine as Taehyung gave you one last lick and came out from underneath your skirt. He popped his fingers into his mouth, savoring the taste of you.

Taehyung slowly stood up and pressed his body against yours. You could feel his hard length against your leg. You could feel that it was big in both girth and length. You thought fervently on how your body was going to be able to take it without getting absolutely wrecked. Your thoughts were briefly broken by soft lips planting on your own. You could taste yourself on your lips, and your erotic feelings and thoughts came crashing back in.

You kissed him back with equal ferocity, leading into a heavy make out session. Your tongues laced together in passion as clothes were slowly falling off of one another. Before you knew it, the two of you were naked and breathing heavily from the lack of oxygen.

The two of you looked longingly into each other's eyes. You noticed Taehyung's were filled with want, need, and lust. The next thing you knew, you were turned around with your back to him and your body up against the bookcase. He took a hold of your hips and pulled them towards him.

You could feel his length up against your ass. From what you could tell, it was of a larger size - not quite the biggest you've ever had, but pretty damn close. Your core pulsed with seductive longing. You pressed yourself closer to Taehyung and wiggled your ass a little to get his attention. You felt a sudden sting land on your right ass cheek followed by a firm grasp. Taehyung placed his chin on your shoulder as he massaged your ass tenderly.

"You ready, doll?" he whispered in your ear.

You gave a curt nod, and he grabbed a hold of his length and placed himself between your folds. However, instead of entering, he just teased you. You whined in protest and tried lowering yourself down onto him. All you received was another slap to your ass.

"Meanie," you muttered.

"Oh, I'll show you who's a 'meanie,' love."

You gasped as he suddenly slammed into you, hitting your cervix perfectly. A load moan escaped your lips as he thrust into you over and over. Your legs trembled beneath you. The only thing keeping you from collapsing to the floor was the tight grip Taehyung had on your hips. You swore he was going to leave fingerprint bruises.

The feeling of excitement and ecstasy filled your whole body, starting from the pit of your stomach and spreading outwards. Your fingers tingled, and your face was numb. As the pleasure in you built, your vision became fuzzy around the edges, and your head became fuzzy.

Taehyung's large hand wrapped itself around your throat for some more grounding, and his grunts mixed with your moans. He slowly became sloppy as he himself grew closer to his climax. The knot in your lower stomach returned and quickly unraveled itself, causing you to seep your juices on to Taehyung's dick. He followed shortly after, cumming deeply into you.

As the two of you came down from your highs, you panted, relishing in the feelings that had just overcame you. It was a truly exhilarating feeling. You shakily turned around to face Taehyung who had a slight glisten to him. He, too, was panting, but a smirk donned his face. You smirked back, loving the look on his face.

"Well," he said between breaths. "That was..."

"Perfect?"

"Indeed."

Your body felt different. It was not exactly a physical feeling, but it was more of a spiritual feeling. You felt closer to Taehyung, to his soul. Maybe the book and Sila were right. Maybe soulmates really were a thing. All you knew was that something was different, and this man brought the most comfortable feeling to your mind, body, and soul.

#taehyung x reader #kim taehyung #bts taehyung #taehyung x reader smut #soulmate au #prince taehyung #prince!taehyung #rainbow smut series #part 6 rainbow smut series #psychic reader #psychic!reader #purple #fantasy #bts smut

135 notes · View notes