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mydearlybeloathed · 23 days

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𝐈 𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐈 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔 ⁴

𝐢 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐞 𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐫𝐲…

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: on the night of your promotion, you ruminate on just how far you've come, and make the harrowing realization that you've gone too far down this road. with only whispers as a guide, the deserter sets out to find the strawhat, finally done running from your problems.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: opla!luffy x gn!reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 9.7k (wow)

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: use of Y/N, gn reader, mentioned death of a mother, the crisis climaxes, alcohol like once i think, the happy ending :)

𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬: the night we met, your hands are cold

series masterlist

The party—gala, more like—was in full swing. Violins swelled and a piano forted, and somewhere out of your sight was a woman singing opera. The music would have been lovely had you been anywhere else, but here you are.

At a Marine Gala of all places. You heaved a heavy sigh, sipping at your champagne as you forced a smile, pushing back your shoulders.

The heavy gaze of your father rested on you from across the ballroom, worry lining his face at the thought that you might do something to disgrace your family name. That thought had never been more tempting, but you were nothing if not calm and collected.

So you busied yourself with being a wallflower, dwelling in the itchy fabric of your outfit. It was nice, you gave it that, a rich blue color you might have picked for yourself if you had the option, which you hadn’t. Your father chose this outfit, like he made most of your decisions these days.

He didn’t think Koby was a good influence? He had you transferred to another ship. He didn’t think you were ready for that promotion? He told your superiors just that. You hated him. You wanted to end him. You smiled at him from across the room as he raised a glass in your direction, speaking to Vice Admiral Garp in a low tone.

You downed your glass and wiped your chin, resting your eyes for a moment. Your father had risen to the rank of commodore recently, which had been a major boost to his ego. You’d been feeling the brunt of it for weeks. But maybe, things were about to change. This party was for you, after all.

The partygoers grew sparse for a moment, and as if light were shining down in a heavenly glow, there was Koby, his eyes scanning the room as he rose on his tiptoes. A wide smile split onto your face, and not even Helmeppo bobbing up behind Koby could sway it.

Uncaring of your father or proper etiquette anymore, you waved wildly and called, “Koby!”

A few strangers cast you dark looks as Koby’s bright eyes found yours. He all but raced in your direction, speed walking across the floor to maintain some level of poise. He nearly hugged you, nearly spun you around he was so happy, but settled on taking your hand and shaking it firmly.

You returned the gesture with a roll of your eyes. “Pleasure to see you, Captain Koby.”

“The pleasures all mine, for certain,” he answered, barely able to keep the mirth out of his tone and eyes.

Helmeppo caught up to his friend, looking from you to Koby before doing a double take. A little grin slid onto his lips. “Oh, Commander.”

You nearly replied when Koby swatted his arm and gestured to the medal pinned over your heart. “Captain, remember? We’re at their promotion gala.”

“It’s not just my gala,” you said, shuffling your feet. “There’s others promoted too… And don’t call me Captain.”

Koby’s eyes darkened slightly, his gaze flickering all over your face. He was disappointed to find that even more light had left your eyes since last he saw you. This world was draining you of everything beautiful about you, and he feared the day the proud yet haunted cadet he’d met swabbing the decks all those years ago would be gone for good.

“Helmeppo,” Koby said distantly. “Can you get me a glass of wine?”

Instantly the boy perked up and clapped a hand on his friend's shoulder, muttering something as he went off in search of a drink. You watched him go, tired eyes fluttering, and as soon as Helmeppo was out of sight Koby set a hand on your shoulder and began to usher you deeper into the crowds of people, well out of your father’s line of sight. “Koby—?”

“You look miserable,” he drawled, squeezing your shoulder. “C’mon. Let’s get outta here.”

“I…” You thought of several reasons why, like the consequences if your father found out, or maybe being mugged on the streets, before you grew sick and tired of this awful anxiety you’d been dealing with for years.

Letting out a determined huff, you nodded, allowing a smile to show. “Okay.”

જ⁀➴

A laugh ripped out of you at some awful joke Koby made as you walked through the night chill, heart light and shoulders relieved of that weary weight usually stacked on them. Koby bumped your shoulder. “You feelin’ better?”

You nodded despite yourself. “Yeah. A bit.”

The truth was, you never were better. You’d perfected the art of going numb, ignoring the ache of regret always looming in the back of your mind. But then, just some months ago, you’d seen stupid Red Hair Shanks, and he planted all these thoughts in your head. Just like he planted them in Luffy’s.

Your steps faltered, face falling, and you came to a halt to turn out to the sea on your left. The boardwalk of the city dropped off into deep blue waters splashing up against it. You shivered, wrapping your arms around yourself as Koby noticed you’d stopped.

He slowly inched up beside you, following you gaze. “What is it?”

You fiddled with the medal pinned to your clothes, a symbol of your new position among the Marines. “Do you think I’m a good person?”

The question caught him off guard. “Uhm, yes? I mean, of course I do.” He ducked to catch your gaze, growing increasingly worried when you simply closed your eyes. “What’s wrong?”

You hung your head and chewed at your bottom lip. “I… I’m tired, Koby.”

The bags under your eyes were evident, and so Koby nodded. “We can head back to base. I’ll tell your dad you’re sick—”

“Not just physically,” you choked out. Eyes pressed shut, you hissed out a sigh. “Mentally. I’m so tired of—of this.” You gripped your medal and ripped it off your chest, tearing a hole in your outfit. “I didn’t think I’d get this far. Now, I’m a captain. As a captain, I’m in charge of so many more people. So many more people will see me as this—awful thing that I’ve become.”

“Woah, hey.” Koby reached to take the medal from your vice grip, but you weren’t done, jerking away from him and looking right at him, eyes ablaze with years and years of thoughts better left unsaid.

“You know I never wanted this,” you nearly whispered. Your hands shook around the cold metal. “Koby… what if I can’t get out?”

For the longest time, all he did was stare at you, eyes slightly wide, and you feared you’d crossed a line. Regret pooled in your eyes as tears swelled at the corners. You half wished to return to the party, allow your father to berate you for disappearing, and continue a horrid night with your only friend angry with you.

Koby turned suddenly, expression unchanging, and trudged down the boardwalk, toward a row of buildings overlooking the sea. Hesitant, you followed, running your thumb over the back of your medal.

His pace slowed to allow you to catch up and walk beside him, your eyes stuck to the ground as you let him lead you blindly into the light of a hanging street lamp. You glanced up, gut going cold as you met eyes with Monkey D. Luffy.

You’d seen his wanted poster so many times you’d found every little detail you could, yet you still jumped out of your skin every time.

Instantly, a burn welled up in your chest, fists tight at your sides. “Why…”

“You love him, right?” Koby asked.

Dazedly, you scoffed, lost in the poster. “What kind of question is that?”

“He feels the same,” said Koby, watching you gaze at Luffy’s picture like one might gaze upon a magnificent fresco.

“You think so?” you wondered.

“I know so,” he replied with certainty.

Swallowing your tears, your eyes wandered around the wall in front of you, scanning over the several other wanted posters pinned up. Luffy’s crewmates took up much of the space, each looking so brave and fierce. Even Shanks’ poster was there, though slightly faded.

Luffy. Shanks. Even Koby. They all had something in common: that brave fire you’d always been too fearful to ignite.

Your fists started to shake. If courage was a fire, then you were a pile of wet logs, desperate for some kindling. Eyes flickering back to Luffy’s wide smile, plastered up on this wall, illuminated by lamplight, you forced down the taut coil in your gut, and exhaled.

As your eyes fell closed, every crashing wave and calling bird fell silent. You barely even heard yourself breathe. Love. You loved him. You craved to see him. A thought hit you so sharply, you didn’t believe it was your own: did you love him enough to do something reckless?

The tether tight on your soul quivered, sending shockwaves across the sea and right to the heart of a boy made of laughter. His laugh grew brighter till you swore he was right beside you, but as you opened your eyes, there was only Koby, staring at you with some concern.

“Y/N?” he spoke tentatively, causing you to force down a thick swallow.

Breathing uneven, you blinked widely at him. Yes, you answered the question. Go, it replied. “I can’t stay,” you said so quietly Koby almost didn't catch it.

But he knew. He understood. Koby reached for your hand, taking the shiny Captain’s medal from your enclosed fist, and glanced out at the ocean. When he placed the medal back in your hand, you moved instantly, rushing at the water and hurling the medal far into its arms. The splash was too far away to hear, but you felt the medal sink into the depths as another of the binds tying you down snapped.

Your blood rushed in your ears, that same exhilaration from when you’d chased down Shanks some months ago. This time though—you heaved a hefty breath, shock written all over your face—this time you were taking the first chance you got.

A laugh was dragged out of you as you raked your hands through your hair, finding Koby behind you when you whirled around. “Shit… my dad’s gonna kill me.”

Yet, the thought didn’t hold much power when you considered that Luffy used to promise he would take you far, far away from that man. Maybe… maybe you could take yourself away. To Luffy. Hopefully, he would recognize you after all this time.

And when you raisec your gaze to Koby, he was smiling, eyes squinted as he reached to grab your shoulders and tug you into him. Your arms wrapped tight around his middle, and he hugged you all the more tighter, his hand finding the back of your head. “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you more,” you murmured, dragging a watery chuckle from him.

“It’s not a competition.”

Jerking back, you scrutinized his face, swearing you would never forget him as long as you lived. Perhaps you’d see him again some day, long down the road, when he’s some big shot marine and you’re—well, you’re a pirate.

It had always been Luffy’s dream, his calling. For the longest time you had no clue if you had a dream of your own; you had one now. I’ll be brave, and Luffy will be proud. I’ll be proud. You wanted so dearly to be proud of yourself for once.

“Here.” Koby shoved a pouch of money into your hand. “Take this. Ask around for a way off the island. Y’should ditch the fancy clothes too.”

Nodding, you glanced down at your attire, deciding you’d snatch something off a clothes line and leave some beri on a windowsill. “What about you? You know my dad will suspect something.”

Koby simply shrugged it off, sporting a grin. “I’ve been with Helmeppo all night. No idea where you ran off to all of a sudden.”

Suddenly out of breath, you flattened your shaky hands against your sides, beaming up at him. This is it. My second chance. So many years of wishing and hiding had led you here. No more running, you decided.

“Tell him I said hi,” Koby murmured. He turned to look back down the street, where far off out of sight the marine gala went on through the night, unaware a deserter was gathering their nerve. “Go now. Get off the island before sunrise.”

You nodded, and despite the cold chill running all over your skin, you shoved out your hand to shake Koby’s, chin quivering. “Goodbye, Captain.”

His smile faltered, his eyes glassy as he shook your hand firmly. “See you, Y/N.”

The moment he retracted his hand you set one foot in front of the other, holding your breath as your fists closed around your pant legs. You didn’t dare to look back even once all the way through the city. Finding clothes wasn’t too much of an issue; you found a clothesline running between two buildings fairly easy, swiping what looked like a mens shirt and a pair of work pants. You snabbed a hat for good measure, and left a handful of beri in your wake.

Down to the docks you rushed, setting eyes on a quartet loading crates onto a small ship nearly the twin of the one Luffy had left Dawn Village on. You were gone before the sun ever rose above the horizon, and Koby was none the wiser as to where you had gone, and he told your livid father just that, all while Helmeppo swore up and down they lost track of you at some point during the night.

Free of your uniform, free of your title, free of your father—free of it all, you stood on the deck of that little ship, doing what you could to help, your smile unrelenting against the wind whipping against your face.

“What’re you smiling about?” asked the young son of the merchant who owned the ship.

You gave him some stupid answer about the sunrise being pretty, which it was, but you didn’t feel like explaining the euphoria you never thought you’d ever get to feel firsthand.

Luffy once tried to explain the feeling the sea gave, how he got so thrilled by the adventure being a pirate would bring. You never understood, simply nodding along to whatever he said, because he looked pretty when he smiled like that.

But you could feel it now. Deep in your chest danced a mix of nausea and excitement and dread all at once, but none of that mattered when the salt spray made your hair damp. You understood him now, and you couldn’t wait to tell him so.

You only had to find him now.

જ⁀➴

Luffy had been thinking for a while now, and it had his friends a bit worried.

Thinking about food, and the one piece, and the usual things he thought about—but mostly you. He’d been wondering a lot about when he’d find you again, and if he’d ever have the chance to get you back. So much time had passed, his grand adventure getting in the way of tracking you down, if he even could.

And sometimes, on odd days, he also wondered—what if you didn’t want to come home? That question was daunting, leaving him in a daze for a whole evening. It couldn’t be true. How could you ever want to stay there, wherever you were?

Surely, surely, you wanted to find him as much as he wanted to find you. Luffy longed to stand beside you as the sun longed to stand aside the moon. He ached to hold you close and never let you go, like he should have all that time ago.

Luffy knew you—probably better than you knew yourself. You’d done something heroic that day on the beach, dragging his grandpa down with you. But maybe… maybe if he’d done a better job at chasing away your fears, then you’d be with him now.

He hardly noticed when Robin sat beside him at the kitchen table, only blinking awake from his reverie when her shoulder pressed against his. “Luffy?”

He grinned. “What’s up?”

She shrugged. “Nothing. Just bored.” Her eyes found the sheet of paper lying before her captain, specifically the crudely drawn picture scrawled across it. “Uhm… what’s that supposed to be?”

Luffy’s eyes brightened and a smile split onto his face. “Oh!” He shoved the drawing in Robin’s direction. “Ya like it?”

Nodding, Robin wagered he’d drawn something between a stork and a windmill. “Mhmm. I like the… dynamics. What is it exactly?”

Nami walked by, mumbling reminders for the day under her breath, and she turned to smile at the pair, catching sight of the drawing. “That’s a nice drawing of Y/N, Luffy.”

“Thanks!” he beamed at her.

Robin watched a giggling Nami leave, slowly returning his gaze to Luffy. “Who’s Y/N?”

As if he needed a reminder of why he’d been upset. Luffy’s face threatened to fall before he pulled himself together and smirked. “A marine. A special marine.” His eyes settled on the drawing. “My marine.”

No further explanation provided itself, but Robin almost didn’t need one; the way Luffy’s entire being softened at the name revealed just enough. All afternoon she inquired about this marine, hearing stories from Luffy’s past that all included the missing person.

“Where are they now?” she asked when he was done, and he tilted his head. “The marine. Where are they?”

“Oh, I dunno,” Luffy shrugged as he added a few more details to his drawing. “That’s the problem, I guess.”

Robin poked his shoulder. “You don’t have a lead?”

Luffy shrugged. “Nope. Just that they’re with the marines. I always figured they’d give me a sign when they’re ready to be found.”

Though she hardly understood that logic, Robin nodded as she set a hand on his shoulder and took her leave. Luffy examined his drawing, letting out a near-depressing sigh, and wished beyond wishing that you’d send him a sign soon.

The truth of the matter was, Luffy had tried to track you down. He’d interrogated each marine he came across, getting tidbits of information about the notoriously cold Commander Y/N. But whenever he thought he’d come this close, you slipped through his fingers, always a few steps out of reach. Like you didn’t want him to catch you.

Let me find you, he begged, and the very last of the tether tying you to land broke in two, throwing you head first into the life the sea had raged for you. Haha!

Luffy jerked around, swearing he’d heard… something. But he was all alone, everyone off to their own devices. He shook out his shoulders, but nothing could rid him of the goosebumps.

જ⁀➴

You’d been somewhat well-known within the marines, but as a deserter? You were something of a celebrity.

Sure, hiding your face everywhere you went was tasking, but at least you looked nice in your wanted poster. You liked to think Koby had chosen the picture used, doing you yet another favor even as you ran for your life.

And your poster didn’t go unnoticed by any means. Nobles who’d crossed your path, fellow marines you hadn’t seen in years, they all gasped at the sight of your poster being added to their roster. A few in particular were rather noteworthy…

Nia, far too sweet for such a world (one wonders why she’s a marine), stood frozen for five whole minutes when she saw it, not sure whether to be horrified or giddy you’d finally done something about the forlorn look in your eyes. She balled up her fists, and wondered what freedom tasted like.

Vice Admiral Garp himself laughed so hard he nearly fell off his desk chair, startling the poor cadet instructed to take the poster to him. He swiped up the paper and wiped at a tear, positively thrilled. “Finally! The coward’s grown up!”

Red Hair Shanks, so tipsy he nearly missed it, before Beckman gripped his shoulder and smiled so big his cigarette nearly fell from his teeth. Shanks ripped the poster off the wall, admiring the number on your head. “Well I’ll be… They did it.”

And Monkey D. Luffy, wandering a port town with Nami’s hand on his shoulder to keep him from running off. Unsuspecting Luffy, griping that he didn’t need an escort.

Nami tightened her hold, steering him through the crowd of shoppers. “Listen, this is supposed to be a quick supply run. I can’t take any chances.”

“Nami,” he drawled, rolling his eyes. “You’re hurtin’ me! Let go. I promise I won’t get distracted.”

She shot him a skeptical glare, assessed his innocent smile, and scoffed. “Fine. But I swear—”

She released him, leading the way to a bread stall. His eyes roamed over the busy market place, the scent of fresh flowers mixing with grilled foods. Some little kids played a game with a ball in an alley they passed, and two seagulls fought over scraps on the corner. A normal little town, full of life by the look of it.

“Oof!” Luffy ran right into Nami’s back, stumbling as he righted himself. He cast her a glower, huffing, “Now who’s sidetracked. This is a quick supply run, Nami—”

“Shut up,” she snapped, lips parted and she sightlessly reached for his shirt and started to drag him along once again. He huffed and puffed until Nami stopped again, this time in front of a long wall lined with poster upon poster of wanted criminals.

She snapped in his face, silencing his complaints. Nami wasn’t sure what to say, unsure if she’s right, yet somehow confident she’s not wrong. So she simply grabbed his face and turned it toward one poster in particular; the picture was of a person around their age, standing rigid and proud in a marine get-up. Their lips were pulled into a tight grin, but their eyes were dead and blank.

“Is that…?” Nami trailed off, watching with bated breath as Luffy reached to take it down, the corners tearing from the tacks used to pin it up.

Luffy held the poster like it was glass, eyes flickering all over, checking for inconsistencies. He found none, bringing the poster closer to his face, a soft chuckle slipping past his lips.

Former Captain Y/N L/N. Wanted dead or alive for ten million beri.

He hardly believed his eyes. His sign. You’re ready.

The whole town heard his victory shout, rattling windchimes and alerting everyone around that, “THEY DID IT! They’re free!” He whirled on Nami and shook your poster in her direction. “Nami, we have to find them! How do we find them?”

“Not sure,” she said, unable to help the grin on her face. “But we will.”

Now it was Luffy doing the dragging and Nami doing the whining, all the way back to the ship, and the whole crew was witness to the blinding smile spread on their captain’s face as he brandished your wanted poster to them.

What would he do? What would he say? Luffy figured he would apologize first—for what, he didn’t really know, he just felt like he should—and then he’d yell at you for feeling like you had to stay, before attacking you in a hug sure to drag you to the ground.

And then he’d kiss you, probably, definitely. You were long overdue for one of those.

He just had to find you first.

Sanji and Zoro stood leaning on the banister around the ship’s helm, watching as Luffy rattled on about how you’d love Robin’s library, when the cook turned to the swordsman, taking out his cigarette to speak.

“So we’re bounty hunting Luffy’s lost marine?” Sanji mused with a half grin, drawing a smirk from Zoro.

He cast Sanji a look and shrugged. The cook laughed wryly and stubbed his smoke on the banister. “This should be fun.”

જ⁀➴

Within a week the rumors had spread like wildfire across the sea: ex-marine Y/N L/N was searching for Monkey D. Luffy.

“Did you hear?” said a baker to his neighbor. “That marine deserter stole Yuri’s boat!”

“I thought they looked familiar!”

And some miles off, a widow whispered among her friends. “And as they were sailing off they shouted, ‘Tell Strawhat Luffy I’m after him!’ And off they were!”

Three islands later, the people of a lonely village began to whisper as Y/N the Deserter stepped off a little sloop. Your void expression, calloused hands, and narrowed gaze were intimidating enough, but what was more nerve-wracking was your silence.

As you did on every island before, you headed right for the closest bar, and without much pretense, you asked if Strawhat Luffy had been seen in the area. Usually, the answer was a nervous twitch followed by a thoughtful silence, and then, usually, a no.

Receiving the expected answer once again, you gave a frustrated sigh and said no more, sitting solitary at the end of the bar, shooting glares at anyone who dared to look at you too long. Deep in your thoughts, you wondered if this was payback for hiding from Luffy for so long, always slipping through his fingers as he was yours now.

All this happened five more times, three of which nearly gave you hope, but Luffy was always leaving as you were arriving, always just out of reach. Each time you left a village, you left with the same message: “If you see Monkey D. Luffy! Tell him I’m looking for him!”

No one was quite sure if the Deserter Marine meant to kill the Strawhat, or meant some other kind of pirate business. Either way, your intentions were clear to those you crossed, so you can imagine one small island’s sudden excitement when shortly after your departure, in sailed Monkey D. Luffy and his crew.

The restlessly bored daughter of the mayor wasted no time in rushing up to the pirate captain and explaining in long-winded detail your declaration. Luffy started to laugh almost maniacally, grinning from ear to ear as he turned to shake Zoro by his stiff shoulders.

The rumors stretched even to the marines, tirelessly searching for their escaped soldier, primarily the group led by Captain Koby, who forced down a laugh when the information reached him.

“I’m sorry,” he told his superiors. “We’ve searched for months, and honestly, we’re exhausting our resources over a deserter. I think it’s time we give it a rest.”

Slowly, your wanted poster was overshadowed by those around it, and people stopped whispering about Y/N the Deserter, who traveled from island to island, village to village, entering a spectral and leaving a spectacle.

You fought off bounty hunters and swindled food vendors, using all your money on information alone. A stolen sword on your hip and a suspicious maroon stain on the cuff of your sleeve, you looked more and more like a pirate by the hour.

Months. And nothing. No sign of him.

Nothing.

Till just now.

You weren't exactly sure if you were seeing right, squinting through the blazing sun as you slowly walked down the dock of the latest island. A ways away, pocketed away between two large vessels, was a caravel with a creative masthead; a lion, to be precise. That isn’t what stopped you in your tracks, though—emblazoned on the sail was a skull and crossbones, the typical jolly roger… accompanied by a Straw Hat.

So many days… you’d very nearly given up, the idea always at the back of your mind, wondering if all of this was foolish, if you’d made tragic mistake after tragic mistake and now you would never see your best friend and the love of your life ever again—yet here you stood, breathless, eyes locked on the ship you’d only ever dreamed of seeing.

On tentative feet, you walked down the docks, weaving in and out of busy sailors to reach that ship. The sky was cloudy and dark, and it would probably rain later that day, and still you swore a beam of sunlight was shining down upon the vessel. The Thousand Sunny.

“I’m gonna be sick,” you whispered, clutching at your gut as your skin got all clammy and cold and suffocating. “Oh, god.”

Hah! Was your mind playing tricks, or was he really so close you could hear his laughter just up on the deck of the ship. You barely realized when you stopped moving, only aware once your heart started thumping in your ears.

Your fists tightened with resolve at your sides and you surged forward, forcing step after step till you reached the gangway of the ship. Blood rushing, hands shaking, heart racing, you set one foot on the beginning of the wooden ramp, eyes raising to where the gangway opened up to the deck.

“Sanji! You changed the combination on the fridge again!”

Frozen in your tracks, you realized you’d forgotten what his voice sounded like. He sounded different now—older. Either way, you couldn’t move, listening closely as a man replied, “Yeah, I did. No clue how you cracked the first code.”

The scoff to follow was so clear you could picture the boy rolling his eyes perfectly. Your pulse thundered, drowning out every other noise, a chill passing through your blood once again. You could do this. You would do this. Luffy was right there.

“Hey.” You jerked back, wild eyes finding a man leering down at you, suspicion all over his face. One hand rested on the hilt of a sword, one of three. “What d’you want?”

Zoro’s brows met as he assessed the stranger staring blankly up at him, their jaw dropped as they searched for an answer. The stranger backed away like a frightened animal, cursed softly, and bolted deeper into the town.

“Okay…” Zoro tilted his head, wondering why he had the feeling he’d seen them before… Oh. Oh. Zoro’s eyes widened and he misstepped, nearly falling overboard as he raked a hand through his hair. “Shit—Hey! Hey, wait!”

Nami rushed to the edge of the ship in an instant, book abandoned on her chair. In seconds she zeroed in on the figure ducking into the crowds, her breath catching. It couldn’t be. It was too perfect. “That’s…”

Zoro barked a laugh. “Yeah!”

Her jaw set and she whirled on him in a flash, brows met. “You let them go?!”

“What—” He sputtered a response as she punched his bicep. “I didn’t—”

“What’s going on?”

Nami and Zoro froze, heads whipping back to face their captain as he hopped down from the helm, a pair of deer in headlights. Luffy’s head was tilted, his hat snug on his head, looking as chipper as ever. Nami tried to speak, yet her throat had run dry, only a squeak escaping.

Zoro expelled a sigh as gravity of the situation fully set in. Years and years he’d been listening to Luffy rabble on about first first-mate, his best friend, the one he’d lost to the marines. The true story of how you were separated was muddled and confusing, for sometimes it was you who’d left and sometimes it was him. You’d been as strange and elusive as the One Piece itself until the day you’re wanted poster was found, and Zoro realized you were a real person and not just some fictitious story.

You meant as much to Luffy as his dreams, and to Zoro, that was something sacred.

The words found him instantly, eyes locking with Luffy’s and voice laden with solemnity. “They’re here.”

Luffy’s face drained of color and Zoro nearly went to make sure he wouldn’t fall. “What?” he croaked.

“They’re here,” Nami gasped at last, a smile working its way up her face. Luffy turned his eyes to her, all wide and disbelieving. “We found them.”

The edges of Luffy’s lips quivered upward, gaze flickering between his friends. “I—I told you that innkeeper wasn’t lying!”

Nami rolled her eyes. “That’s what you’re focused on?”

Not even a beat went by when, “He did tell you so.”

“Yeah,” Luffy laughed. “You said we shouldn’t trust ‘em.”

She wasn’t in a fighting mood, not at a time like this, so she gritted her teeth and relented, “Fine, you told me so. Can we go? They ran off and who knows where they’ve gone.”

And just like that, Luffy snapped to attention, brows vaulted as his eyes darted to the crowded streets beyond the docks. “They ran away? Why?”

“Zoro probably scared them,” Nami grunted, swatting the broad shouldered man who huffed in reply.

“Whatever!”

The crew was rallied in ten minutes, their ranks spreading through the city in a matter of moments. Really, it was only a matter of time before they found you, at least Luffy told himself that.

But he couldn’t get it out of his mind. Why did you run away?

જ⁀➴

The only reason you stopped sprinting was the driver who shoved you aside to help his lady into her awaiting carriage. Otherwise, you might have run from one end of the island to the other, just to be safe.

Teetering on one foot then the other, you spat a curse and hunched over, clutching at the collar of your shirt as you hurried into the awning of an alley. You muttered over and over, hitting the heel of your palm to your head. Slumping against the wall, you mocked yourself, “Oh, Tell Monkey D. Luffy I’m looking for him! Did you really think you’d be able to face him? You’re so stupid!”

And now, his friend had seen you. You’d have to escape the city somehow, sail far away, and start anew. A new name would have to be decided. Hopefully Absolute Fucking Idiot the First wasn’t too common.

Right after the foolishness was the shame—how could you come this far just to sprint as fast as you could from your him? The one you would travel every sea twice to find, if only you could find the nerve.

Clawing at your arms, inhaling deep, you allowed yourself a moment of peace (it didn’t work). Dark spots crept up your vision, wide eyes blinking fast, a cold sweat forming. You needed to sit down, preferably not in a damp alleyway.

You found your way to a bar, a scene you’d grown familiar with over the years. Though your ears and eyes were peeled, you couldn’t help the sneaking feeling that man was going to find you. You assured yourself it was a stupid, that you were good at hiding, that you’d made an art of it—but what if?

What if something inside wanted Luffy’s friend to find you? To drag you back? To give you no choice but to see Luffy and know him again? On that thought, you lifted your gaze and ordered a glass of juice, because you’d rather have a clear head when that crewmate of his didn’t stop searching.

Sipping at your drink, you sat a while in thought, chin rested on your palm as you swirled the juice around with a straw, creating little whirlpools. You nearly fell asleep like that when the bell over the bar’s door jingled. You peeked out the corner of your eye, seeing a pretty woman gazing around, looking for someone.

Her long dark hair draped around her shoulders as she crossed her arms and sighed, defeated. You turned back around and drank the rest of your juice, ignoring how familiar that woman looked. It was probably nothing; probably just another pirate off one of the many wanted posters you’d been presented with.

“You’re Y/N, right?”

Every muscle in your body stiffened, all breathe lost at the mention of your name. You whipped around to find the woman a few inches away from you, her eyes now intently locked on yours.

You licked your lips as your panic swelled. A bounty hunter perhaps? “Who?”

“Y/N,” she repeated, undeterred. “The Deserter. Is that you?”

Leveling her with a glare, you stood and set a hand on your sword. “You’ve got the wrong person.”

Taking in her blank stare, you sidestepped and made to weave around her, heart racing once again, when she grabbed your tricep in a grip stronger than she looked capable of. You jerked away, but she only tightened her hand.

“Luffy’s looked for you a long time,” she whispered, shooting icicles donw your spine. “You mean a lot to him just to run off when he finally finds you.”

Slowly, you met her gaze, jaw slack as you heaved in deep breaths. “He… what?” You tried to get away, weaker this time. “Who are you?”

A grin slid easily onto her face, giving her an air of danger. “So it is you.” She extended a hand to you even as she kept you in place with her other. “Nico Robin. I’ve heard a lot about you, Captain.”

Instantly, every fiber of your being crawled, a sneer taking your face. “I’m not a captain.”

“Not anymore. Luffy was so excited when he found out.” Robin released you, grinning when you stood frozen in place. “Could we talk?”

You’re not sure how Robin got you sitting at a shadowed booth near the back of the bar, but there you were, sitting across form her as she stirred her drink. You felt stiff all over, hands folded in your lap. “Listen, I’ve been looking for him too.”

“We know,” Robin said after a sip. “We got your messages.”

Your skim warmed. “Right, uhm. I was headed for your boat—ship—Sunny…” You gaped, grasping at words that practically sprinted away from you. Were the walls closing in? Was the air getting thinner? You snatched at the first feasable sentence. “But I couldn’t...”

When you lifted your gaze, you’re not sure what you expected. Maybe for her to be angry, disappointed, amused even. But instead, she looked curious, her head tilted slightly, her eyes scanning your face.

“Why?” she asked ever so simply.

You felt very small, looking anywhere but at Robin, fiddling with your thumbs. Deflect. Deflecting is good. “Is Luffy okay? Good, I mean. Is he good? I heard him. He sounded happy.”

She didn’t answer. She only sat in silence, a brow raised. You cracked your neck from side to side, too awkward for comfort, desperate worries boiling up your throat and—

“I think… I think, sometimes, he’s still better off without me.” Your leg bounced up and down. “Like, what if I see him, and I haven’t changed at all? I’ve always been a coward. What if that’s all I’ll ever be?”

Robin watched you very closely, her heart aching as a part of her regretted being so harsh with you before. She’d only been thinking of Luffy, but still. She leaned closer and set her arms on the table, trying to catch your flickering gaze. “Hey.” She held your stare firmly. “You deserted the marines. A coward wouldn’t do that.”

“But I ran away.”

“No,” she said with a shake of her head, offering a slight smile. “You’re here with me.”

Robin never swayed in her direct attention to you, and though her gaze burned into you, something about its blaze was warm. Your mother had always been a blur on the forefront of your mind, killed in action some years after your birth. The one memory you had of her was of a scolding, when her eyes burned into you just like this.

“He looked for me?” you asked, tapering off.

Robin smiled. “Since he saw your poster a few months back. I suspect he’s been looking for clues even longer.”

“But… he’s gotten so… great. Everyone knows his name.”

“And yet…” Robin ensured she had your attention. “He never forgot yours.” She pushed aside her half-full glass and inched toward the end of the booth. “Why would he? To me, it seems like you’re the love of his life—maybe even above the sea.”

She left you dazed, not breathing nearly enough air, and you stammered as she stood to her feet. “Where are you going?”

“Back to the Sunny,” she shrugged, stretching. “Feel free to follow.”

You slipped to your feet as well. “You won’t make me?”

Now was when she looked amused. Robin’s lips quirked as she shook her head. “I can’t make you do anything. But, if you wanna prove you’re not a coward—”

She pivoted, hands in her pockets as she called over her shoulder, “—you know where to find him.”

And she was gone and quick as she appeared, out of the bar and down the street in a matter of seconds. Rattled, you leaned on the table and collected your wits from where they’d been scattered all over the ground.

You could have been standing there for three minutes or three hours—you couldn’t tell—but when you finally shook yourself back to reality you swiftly paid and set out into the street. You shielded your eyes and looked toward the sun, catching it hiding just behind the tops of the buildings on either side of the street.

A lot happened in those few moments of looking at the sun.

You were nine years old again, holding a training sword and having no idea what to do with it. Your father had shouted at you for not catching on quicker. Your mother’s grave was newly dug. You were only nine, yet expected to be so much more. You wanted—needed to be so much more.

A little boy watched on, wondering when you’d stop staring at the ground and notice him only a few feet away. After ten minutes, he grew bored and jumped off the log pile he’d been perched on.

“What’re you doing?” he asked, startling you.

You blinked widely at him. “Practicing.”

He grinned crookedly. “For a staring contest?”

“To be a marine,” you said forcefully as you thrust the little sword out pathetically. “Father says I have to be the best.”

The boy plopped down on the grass in front of you, pulling at pieces of it and sprinkling them back down. “Yeah, my grandpa says the same. Too bad for him though.”

You examined him carefully, letting your sword drop to your side as you slowly knelt beside him. “Why too bad?”

A wicked grin crossed his face. “I’m not gonna be a marine.”

“What will you be?” you asked when he didn’t go on.

“I dunno. Happy, I guess.”

“Can marines not be happy?”

“Not the ones I’ve met.”

He had you there. You puffed up your cheeks, took a quick look around, and leaned in very close to whisper, “I don’t wanna be a marine either. But that’s a secret!”

The boy nodded quickly, his smile so bright you felt warm under its shine.

You wandered down the street, head in the clouds, as a ghost of that little boy dragged you along with him, your hand trapped in his. A smaller you was stumbling to keep up, your strides too short.

“C’mon! Shanks is back!”

“Wait! Luffy, you’re too fast!”

He always let you catch up. Always. You blinked and the little boy wore a straw hat now and had a scar on his cheek. He was terrifying you, slingshotting himself across a forest. He was holding your hand and scowling up at your father, slapped across the face a moment later. He was telling you about his dreams, and how in every one, there was you.

“I’ll be captain of a mighty ship! And you’ll be my first mate, won’t you?”

And he was watching as you remained on shore, standing beside his livid grandfather, left to face the consequences on your own. Left behind of your own accord, feeling as if there was never any other choice.

“But there’s always a choice,” you whispered, and it hit you like a train; you’d been making all the wrong ones.

The street fell to the background as you lifted your gaze from the ground, finding the docks right there in front of you. Somewhere, the Thousand Sunny rested on the water, her masthead peering out as if watching for you. All you had to do was step beyond the sidewalk and onto those wooden platforms.

Feet itching to step both forward and back, you held your breath as your muscles locked up. Your world dug in its heels yet the sun continued to set, ignoring your hesitance, growing tired of waiting on you. As your fingers dug into your pants, you willed time itself to stop, just to let you think this through a bit longer.

You were denied.

“If you wanna prove you’re not a coward, you know where to find him.”

You expelled all your breath in an utterance: “I’m not a coward.”

Shaky legs carried you down the docks, past little sloops and grand vessels, around lumbering sailors and lanky merchants. The air chilled your bones as night grew closer, winds casting in from the sea. Salt air filled your lungs and pushed at your back, wrapping around you and shoving you forward still.

You walked and walked till you hit the edge of a gangway, falling forward and landing on your palms with a yelp. Heaving a sigh, you glanced up, finding the top of the ramp you’d seen earlier. No burly swordsman stood at the top. No one stood in your way.

But could you get out of your own?

Jaw set, you shoved to your feet and stomped up to the deck, steps faltering when you finally made it. How… lackluster. You released your stiff shoulders as you cast a look around, finding no reason for alarm or vigilance. No armageddon or catastrophe. Only a peaceful ship deck, drifting upon calm waves.

Not a soul stood on deck. A bucket hinted that someone had mopped recently, and a book lay closed atop a beach chair. Somewhere below deck was a shouting, but you couldn’t make it out. Whatever horrible fate you’d expected to face was nowhere to be found.

You were here, and all was well.

A small sound came from behind you, and it sounded like your name.

For once in your life you didn’t think before you whipped around, gut lurching. The boy was so close. He looked older, like you thought he would, but still very much the same. A new scar ran across his chest, revealed by the open shirt across his shoulders, but it was without a doubt Monkey D. Luffy.

His eyes pierced you, reality sinking in and crumbling you. After all the years and worries and waiting, he stood only a few feet away. The world didn’t break. The sky didn’t fall. You weren’t struck down by some mighty force of fate. Luffy didn’t look angry at all—in fact, he looked almost happy.

A small smile trembled on his lips, eyes so bright. “You came back.”

His name left your lips like a gasp as you stumbled for him on unsteady legs. You hadn’t even blinked and he was there, hands grabbing at your shoulders and running down your arms so delicately, as if you might turn to mist right then and there.

You reached for his hand and clutched it tightly, lacing together your fingers and marveling at how easily they fit—a pair unhindered by time. Your eyes flickered up from your interlocked hands to find his eyes. The softness of his features knocked the breath out of you.

You broke the bated moment, throwing your arms around him and pulling him close, your chin finding his shoulder. Luffy held you tightly with his eyes wide and his breathing heavy.

“I’m sorry,” you gasped, ducking your chin to press your forehead to his collarbone. “I’m so—I won’t ever leave. Never. Please don’t—don’t—”

“I won’t,” Luffy murmured in your ear. His rubber arms extended to wrap around the two of you twice, for only once would never be enough. “I’m sorry.”

Just as tears began to break past your lash line Luffy took you by your arms and jerked you away from him, keeping you a breath away. “You never had to stay,” he practically hissed. “Why did you think you had to stay?”

He made it hard to think when he wiped the tears off your cheeks. All you could do was lean into his hands, stammering. “I just thought you’d be better—”

“No.” He shook his head. “No. No, why would you ever think that?”

You blinked, at a loss for an answer. “I dunno. I—I’m just fucked up like that. Self-destructive and… what-not…”

Luffy didn’t let you lower your head even as your cheeks warmed his hands. His fingertips traced the apples of your cheeks, memorizing the feel of your skin. He leaned closer, catching your gaze with a reassuring smile and stroke of your face. “I won’t leave you if you won’t leave me. Ever.”

Slowly, you nodded, a burn rising in your neck. “Deal.”

He pulled you into an impossibly tighter embrace, one hand cradling the back of your head, the other around your back. You hooked your hands around his shoulders and breathed ever so gently as his hand settled on your back, soothing the tension wrought throughout your body.

You shivered, nails slightly clawing at him. Close was not close enough. “I missed you.”

“Me too… Worm.” And the moment was broken as the most unflattering laugh left you. You pushed him off with a scoff, grinning wide as his brows vaulted innocently.

“Shut up! I don’t even read anymore!”

The smile quickly slid off his face, replaced by a face so cutely quizical. “Why not?”

“I just…” You thought of how to phrase it. “I don’t have anything to read, and if I did, I still don’t have the time.”

Just a beat later he had you by the hand, determined as he started to tug you along with him. “I’ve got something to show you.”

You were dragged below deck before you could say a word, led swiftly through the dimply lit hallways. His snickers and beaming smile flooded your head and left you helpless to ask anything at all, following after him as best you could. You passed by an open door that presumably led to a kitchen, briefly spying a crew of people gathered around a table as you zipped on by.

Luffy stumbled to a stop right outside a closed door. Chest heaving, you rose a brow. Luffy grinned, squeezed your hand, and pushed inside. It was dark, voidish shapes scattered around. Luffy left your side, rushing to a lantern and igniting it, casting the room in a warm glow. Jaw falling slack, you spun around, gaze flickering this way and that.

“A library,” Luffy said needlessly, at your shoulder once again. “Like I promised.”

On every wall a floor to ceiling shelf was littered with books tall and wide and thin. Your hand brushed the many spines, the deep warm colors and soft leather and canvas covers running under your fingertips. You pinched yourself next, heart hammering in your chest as you swiveled around, blinking quickly. “Luffy…”

It was one thing to hear that he’d never forgotten… but it was a very different thing to be standing in the tangible proof that Luffy never stopped believing.

It felt as if you were seeing him for the first time all over again, all doubts cast away and dashed out. He was the same Luffy, but he was stronger, mightier than the Luffy you’d known. More determined, if it was possible. As he stood there before you with a hope laden gaze, his dream felt real.

A shiver ran down your spine; Luffy would be the Pirate King, and by God, you’d be there to witness it.

Your fear had gone somewhere you couldn’t find nor feel it, and though it left a gap in your chest, that gap was quickly being filled by a ten-fold love for this boy.

You took his hand and held it in both of yours, peering into his eyes all glassy-like. “Thank you. For not giving up.”

He grinned, asking, “Was there ever any doubt?”

You’d get into that later, perhaps with a therapist should you pass one on the seas. For now, you scoffed a laugh and pulled him closer, a hand reaching for the scruff on his neck and carding through it. He leaned into you, nose brushing yours, as he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead.

You pursed your lips despite sighing at the soft touch. “You missed.”

“I did?” Luffy snickered as you rolled your eyes. He caught you off guard, darting in to kiss you slowly, drawing you in close.

“Join my crew,” he asked—stated, more like—holding so much hope in his eyes that you had to stop just to admire him. You relished in the fact that he was right inf ront of you, reaching to trace his face from his temple to his jaw, vowing to never take him for granted ever again.

The tethers and cords of your souls melded back together, as they should have remained from the very beginning. “Yes, Captain,” you replied, laughing at how his smile grew brighter.

He gripped your hands in both of his, tugging you along as he retreated for the door. “Wanna meet the others?”

You dug your heels into the floor, chuckling dryly. “You know, maybe we should hold off till tomorrow, yeah?”

Luffy paused, brows meeting, blinking slowly. “Okay, if that’s what you want…”

Purring your lips, you looked from each of his eyes to his nose to his forehead, sighing when defeat found you. “You really want me to meet them now?”

The squeeze he gave your hands, along with how the smile grew back on his face, was answer enough. Another sigh pulled at your chest as nodded. “Lead the way.”

By the end of the hour, the entire crew had come to a decision: you fit in perfectly, even if they had to (gently) jam your piece into the puzzle just to get you to converse with them. “They’re nervous,” Luffy not so silently whispered to the others, causing heat to crawl up your neck as you pinched your nose.

Gathered around on various modes of seating, you found yourself wrapped in an uncanny warmth despite the chill of the sea air. You shared a crate with Luffy, thigh to thigh, his hand playing with your fingers as he recounted story after story of his adventures with his friends.

A bittersweet smile sat on your lips, happy he was happy, wondering what could have been if you’d gone with him. Stop it. It’s in the past.

“What about you,” Robin interrupted Usopp’s next inevitable tangent, eyes zeroed in on you. “Surely you’ve got stories.”

All eyes shifted to you, and the warmth fled the moment instantly. You shook you head quickly. “Nah, nothing as interesting as yours.”

Luffy bumped your shoulder, suddenly excited. “Then tell us a boring one! I wanna know what you’ve been doing.”

Grinning softly, you stared at your feet, twindling the toes of your boots.”I don’t want to think about it.”

That surely sucked the happiness out of air, replacing it with an ominous vagueness. Luffy’s side pressed against yours, and with a sigh you quickly broke the awkward silence. “Not all of it was bad, though. I had Koby—Oh! He says hello, by the way. I did some good things too, or I hope I did. Like, this one time, my captain at the time got a call from a nearby village.”

“The call was from this girl, I think,” you recalled. “She pleaded for help. These pirates had come in and plundered everything… The call ended in a gunshot.”

You had the whole crew’s attention then, the silence almost eerie. You cleared your throat. “So we took maybe twenty marines and headed to the island. By then the pirates had hostages at the center of the town.” You pushed back your shoulders, imitating your superiors. “Surrender now, said the captain, and the leader of the pirates obviously laughed in his face. Captain Gozi—that’s his name—kept pressing in, acting so docile, even as the pirate captain pressed a gun to the head of this young boy. Gozi is a good man, but we had differing opinions on how to go about the situation.”

Nami interjected, “How did you want to solve it?”

You hesitated before admitting, “Well, I did wind up solving it, and Gozi wasn’t too happy about it.”

“What did you do?” asked Chopper, his ears flitting back against his head.

“The pirate captain kept on laughing, and when Gozi continued to try to negotiate, the pirate threw the boy down and was about to shoot—so I shot first. Right here.” You tapped your forehead. “That’s actually the reason I was promoted to captain. They made me out to be a hero.”

“Woah,” Usopp sighed.

Zoro tilted his head. “So you shoot and you use a sword?”

“I’m sort of a jack of all trades, master of none.”

Sanji shrugged. “Still better than master of one.”

Before you could say something quippy in return, a swift peck was left on your cheek, leaving a blooming warmth on your skin. You whipped around to blink wide eyed at Luffy and his lopsided smile.

“What?” you laughed.

He gently kicked your foot. “I just really love you.”

A series of coos erupted from Nami and Chopper, along with some snickers from the boys, and you sat growing increasingly flustered under the attention. You rammed your forehead into Luffy’s shoulder to hide your face, dragging a bright laugh out of him.

Minutes later, when the focus shifted away from you and toward the next elaborate tale to be strung by the Great Usopp, as he called himself, you leaned into Luffy and murmured softly. “I really love you too.”

High above, the stars shined and wove themselves through the night sky, no longer tiring themselves with transferring the love of a pair between the edges of the seas—they were together again, at long last, and the stars rested easy now that Fate had had its fun.

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @its-not-too-late-for-coffee @khaleesihavilliard @gingernut1314 @lifesurfer2475 @shuujin @maybe-a-bi-witch @bi-narystars @luciledreamz @awenthealchemist @baku-boneless

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Text

When We Wake

Masterlist here

Word count: 1,300+

Synopsis: Blissfully waking within the arms of your lover, you are both struck with the thoughts of how precious you have become to one another. Whispering confessions of adoration to one another while the other slumbers, you are both completely overcome with such deep devotion.

Themes: established relationship, sir Crocodile x reader, gn!reader - non gendered descriptors, suggested nudity, kisses, confessions of love, sir Crocodile is soft for you, romance, romantic imagery, morning kisses, lazy kisses.

Notes: @carrotsunshine wanted a lovestruck Crocodile to read when she finished work today. I had no choice, my hands were bound and I stayed up past midnight again getting it done. While Croco is not one of the regular characters to write for, I did find myself falling for him a little in this fic. @since-im-already-here suggested the song, because smol-snail is a queen. Was written on my phone.

Tag list: @sordidmusings @feral-artistry @since-im-already-here @writingmysanity @gingernut1314 @cinnbar-bun @i-am-vita

Song: Until I Found You - Stephen Sanchez, Em Beihold

Falling asleep, content within the arms of a lover is a luxury Sir Crocodile never knew he could afford. Although extremely wealthy, he deemed himself unworthy of such an exuberant opulence. For all his shortcomings in his youth, clawing with his right hand while grappling with his left hook to be within the lap of comfort all Berry could buy: this small slice of the heavens he carved for himself with you was priceless.

It was not so dissimilar for you. You had never known a love as passionate, as heated, nor as deep a connection as the one you shared with Sir Crocodile. He was your world, and you were his. These few moments together, before the world drew first breath and the symphony of birdsong would sing to welcome the dawn, you lay in complete syncronancy.

Your heartbeats would thump to the same rhythm, your lungs extend as you drew breath in the same soothing inhale before softly exhaling in unison. If one of you shifted to rotate, splayed fingertips would search in yearning to find each other's warmth within the night: shifting blankets to adjust the heat for one another accordingly.

If you fell out of rhythm together, after a night of sound, blissful slumber, and one of you woke first: the other would gaze fondly at the lover they had taken.

When Sir Crocodile awoke first, his right hand would rise from its position against your hip, slowly raking his fingers delicately along your skin. His calloused hand was coarse and rough, but his fingers were always soft and gentle for you.

Finally, as his fingers reach your shoulders, he massages your shoulder tenderly before raking his forearm over your body and tucking your slumbering form firmly secured against his chest. His eyes were half-hooded, gazing with the softest flutter of his lengthy eyelashes down at you.

“You are so precious to me, my moon,” he whispered into your hair, pressing a tender kiss softly against your hair, “A bright light that guides me through such horrors within my darkened past.” You barely stir within your sleep, unaware such deep, devoted confessions were being freely gifted from the smiling lips of your lover.

“You are the blood that swells my heart,” his breath tickled your temple as his scarred cheek nuzzled against the crown of your head, “It would be too simple a thing to kill for you, as it would be to die for you.”

Unconsciously, your body began to burrow into his chest within your slumber. A soft moan expelled itself from between your lips as you reveled in the contact of your bare skin against his own. His final confession was whispered like a prayer into your ear.

“You command my very soul, my spirit is yours to do with what you will,” he smiled as he felt you stirring within his arms, “Should you toy with me, torture me, or choose to trust me: either way, I am yours, and I will live my life for you.”

Upon hearing his words, your immediate response upon waking was to press a kiss within the hollow flesh of his jugular notch. His breath hitched, his eyes fluttering shut as a rumbled groan in bliss swelled within his chest.

“As I am yours, my beautiful Crocodile.”

Should you find yourself to be the first to rise, your breath would hitch as your eyes met with his face. Within his slumber, he managed to break away from your embrace. Lying on his back, his hair splayed down over his face, you notice the deep furrow of his brows and the soft shudder of a snarl.

Softly and cautiously, you draw up your hands over his broad chest to hover over his face. The bright lightning-sheen of his healed scar illuminated within the soft light of the morning. You slowly lean over him, your chest lying flush against his as you straddle his waist.

You splay your forearms over his chest, elbows barely reaching the shoulders of the large man as you lay your ear flush against his chest. The rapid beat of his heart began to slow, a deep, sleepy inhale of his breath sucked in through his lips and departed softly through his nose.

“You are the most precious thing to me, my beautiful Crocodile,” you confessed your deep devotion into his chest, “No gold, jewels, nor Berry could ever meet you as equal.”

Sweeping your cheek away from his chest, you brushed your nose against his chest before beginning a trail of soft and lazy kisses over his pectorals. For each kiss you planted, a confession was whispered into his skin.

“You are the greatest man I have ever known,” you pressed a deep kiss against his clavicle bone, “Your fierce devotion to me is only outmatched by my own to you.”

The swell of his chest beneath your body indicated he was beginning to stir within his deepest rest. He sighed as he raised his right arm to unconsciously pull you closer into his chest. You elevated your chin to gaze up into his dark, violet eyes that had barely split apart between the curtain of his eyelashes.

“You are my closest confidant, my most ferocious protector,” you pressed a lengthy kiss against his jaw before brushing the hair that shrouded his face from full view, “You are all mine.” His eyes were sleepily gazing down at you, feeling the shift of your body flush against his own.

“As you are all mine.”

But should you find yourselves back within that perfect synchrony, on very rare occasions, your eyelashes would flutter as the world around faded into view. The world, as both of you knew it within your souls, was within the arms of one another. The only world that mattered to you both in those fleeting moments, before obligation and commitments called to you; was only, and always, each other.

As your joint eyelids rose together, your glassy orbs found their peace within each others' gaze. You were always the first to smile, where he was always the first to reach out to pull your body against his.

It was always up for debate as to who uttered those sacred words first. The three sought after and holy words that bound you together as one life, one body, one heart, and one soul. Those simple words that had the most mighty and hardened soldiers stutter and stumble over them in their fluster.

Immediately meeting with your smiling lips, Sir Crocodile swooped down and captured them beneath his own. Always slow, the angle of his jaw would alternate with his chin extending down and rotating to depict his heated passion. The bridge of his nose brushed against your own, the rumble of his moan expelled within your mouth as yours fled into his.

Parting your lips, you sought out more contact with your body pressed firmly against your passionate lover. You hooked your arms over his neck as he braced his right arm and left forearm around your waist.

He rolled you over his chest, before using the propulsion of the swinging motion of your body to pin you beneath him. You squealed into his mouth in shocked joy, his lips never breaking their deep contact against your own. With your lover now between your legs, you clawed at his shoulders to tug him closer.

The deep furrow of his brow, and sharp inhale of breath through his nose, had you enchanted by his enthusiastic welcome to commence the day. Almost begrudgingly, he finally split contact away from your lips to smile down at your position beneath him.

Taking a moment to silently acknowledge each other, you slowly laced your hands within the ink-black strands at the back of his head just as he leaned down to press his forehead against your own. Your whispers were almost inaudible, this confession being so scared you both dare not present it to undesirable ears.

This confession was just meant for only each other, your lips brushing briefly as you both relayed your devotion in perfect, unified symphony.

“I love you.”

#one piece #x reader #sir Crocodile #sir crocodile x reader #op crocodile #one piece crocodile #crocodile fluff #sir crocodile romance #crocodile x reader #gn!reader #op x gn!reader #i think I'm in love with sir crocodile #had to soften him a little #but he's so soft for you #op sir crocodile

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enbyenvy666 · 17 days

Note

I'll do a request how about todoroki and bakugou accidentally burning their partner while sparring? Figure it's how they apologize or make up for it. Partner isn't mad though.

hope you enjoy :)

CONTENT WARNINGS - gn reader, semi-graphic depictions of burns, comfort, mild mild mild angst, accurate first aid, no beta we die like men

w/c - .8k

Todoroki

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊

It was part of your weekly routine, sparring with Shoto to hone your skills and his. It wasn’t odd to end up with a couple of bruises and scrapes, you were a pro hero and so was he, both with powerful quirks, it was an occupational hazard. There were never any serious injuries, no black eyes or anything that needed stitches.

Until one night when you tried to dodge his flaming fist and your exhausted body caused your knee to give way, falling against his arm. He reacted quickly, deactivating his quirk and helping you to the ground so you fell safely. Your shirt was singed, burning away to reveal the reddened skin underneath. You could only writhe, stuck between sucking in deep breaths and being unable to breathe out.

Shoto spat out apology after apology, wanting to hold you but afraid he would harm you again. But you reached out to him, gripping his arm as you pulled yourself upwards. Through gritted teeth, you asked him to help you to the bathroom so you could run room-temperature water over the burn. He quickly helped you to the bathroom, running the shower so you could sit in the water stream.

“I’m really sorry, love,” he whispered as he removed your shirt. The cool water over the burn eased the pain enough for you to smile softly, reaching out to cup his cheek, your thumb running over his scar.

“I’m not mad Sho, it was an accident,” you explained. “If anything I should blame myself for falling.”

“But that’s not your fault!” Shoto countered. With a grin, you leaned forward to press a chaste kiss to the tip of his nose.

“Help me wrap this up and we’ll call it even.”

Bakugo

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊

Not everyone knew that when Katsuki used his quirk frequently in a short period of time his hands got really hot to produce more sweat. During his hero work, he wore gloves so it wasn’t usually a problem and thus he forgot about it. He was training with you on one of the few nights he had free. He was training his endurance in particular, testing the longevity of his quirk by firing off explosion after explosion in quick succession until he couldn’t produce any more nitroglycerin.

You held padded blocks over your hands, protecting yourself from his onslaught of explosions. They weren’t as strong as normal as Katsuki was more focused on his stamina for the time being, but even for a moment you felt like you were going to be knocked off your feet. But he finally stopped, shaking out his hands as he felt his muscles twist into cramps.

You slipped your hand out of the padding, holding it up to high-five as you usually did to congratulate him on a job well done. And as usual, when your palms met, he could pull you in for a kiss. But when his fingers wrapped around your hand, you let out a shriek, ripping your hand out of his grip. It took a moment, but the shape of his hand and fingers showed up on your hand in a bright red.

He cursed, wiping his hand on his pants as if that would cool them faster. They were still warm when he grabbed your good hand to drag you to the kitchen, running the sink and sticking your hand under it. He was quiet, brow knitted more than normal as he glared at the water flowing from the tap. Not a word was said as he retrieved the first aid kit, gently drying your hand with paper towels before rubbing aloe vera over the burn, carefully avoiding spots where blisters started to form.

You watched his eyes flickering, tense muscles in his face twitching as he fought with himself internally. He made sure to wrap the bandages loosely in case your hand swelled, but his ginger touches were juxtaposed by how he roughly put the first aid kit away, slamming the cupboard closed afterwards. He didn’t come to you when you reached out to him as if he was punishing himself by not allowing you to comfort him. So you went to him instead, fingers weaving through the soft, blonde hair at the back of his neck to pull him down until your forehead met his.

“It’s okay, I’m not angry,” you whispered. Katsuki shut his eyes, arms slinking around your waist as he allowed himself to bask in your relaxing touch. The back of your fingers on your injured hand lightly brushed across his jaw. He grasped your hand delicately, bringing the digits to his lips to kiss tenderly. Pressing your lips to his, he felt you pulling away after, and quickly wrapped his strong arms around you to pull you back in, his chin on your shoulder.

“Just a bit longer.”

#bnha x reader #bakugo katuski x reader #bakugo x reader #shoto todoroki x reader #todoroki x reader #comfort #x gn reader

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jayflrt · 1 month

Text

𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝟕𝟖𝟔 15. ugly truths

YOUR CHILDHOOD DREAM WAS TO MARRY PARK SUNGHOON.

Even before you developed a genuine crush on him, you fantasized about marrying Sunghoon at a young age. Your parents always fawned over the young boy's appearance, and they would constantly pester you about how they wanted a handsome son-in-law like Sunghoon. You would brush their comments off back then, but a small stir in your chest dared to daydream about how wonderful of a boyfriend your best friend would be.

When he asked you out, you thought you were in the clouds. It must have been one of the best things that happened to you because you were certain that Sunghoon would meet some drop-dead gorgeous model after he was signed under Prada. You hardly entertained any talks of dating him before because you were so scared that something would burst the swell of hope in your chest.

Now that you tasted the reality of being Sunghoon's girlfriend, it was awfully bitter.

You knew that there were several consequences going into this decision; not only were your parents going to be upset, but you were possibly ruining years of friendship with both Sunghoon and Heeseung with this decision. Although you cared about the two boys deeply, you were so tired of feeling drained by your own relationship.

Plus, Heeseung had been acting weird, too. You weren't convinced as of late that he had purely platonic intentions, but it made your stomach turn every time you pondered on it for longer than a few seconds.

You knew what you were getting into. Sunghoon was so entangled and twisted up in your life that you couldn't see any comfortable way out of this relationship. You would no longer be able to listen to a Bruno Mars song without thinking about how he'd blast the music in his car and sing along with you; you would no longer be able to wake up in the morning and shake off the ceaseless anticipation of a good morning text from him; you would no longer be able to even reach for his hand under the table to give it a comforting squeeze.

After this, you wouldn't have to worry about checking menus to make sure your boyfriend liked the food at the restaurant you wanted to go to, or wait for him to show up to every date you planned, or sulk around after he shot down any couple activities you proposed.

You'd be free.

You wondered if this was going to be the last time you'd spend in Sunghoon's apartment. As your finger ran over the embroidery on one of his throw pillows, you noticed that your boyfriend was tapping his foot nervously.

He was the first to speak. "You're breaking up with me, aren't you?"

His words were like a jab to your gut, making tears pool at the corners of your eyes before you turned to blink them away. You dated him for three years just for everything to end like this. Yet, you weren't sure he could say anything to salvage your relationship; you were tired of trying to reach out to someone who wouldn't even hold out his arm.

"Yeah," you answered quietly. "I don't think I can do this anymore, Hoon. It's been so hard."

His foot started tapping faster. You felt the knot in your chest tighten.

"Okay," he mumbled. "Then... that's that, I guess."

"Seriously? That's all you can say?"

"I can't stop you from doing what you want."

"No, but you could ask," you replied, incredulity thick in your voice. "You seriously don't even wanna know why I'm trying to end things?"

"I know why you're breaking up with me," he said, raising his voice over yours. "I haven't been putting aside time for y—"

"It's not just that!"

Sunghoon immediately fell silent, and, for a few moments, the only sounds in his living room were your shallow breaths. As much as you wanted to stand up and start yelling at him, you couldn't bring yourself to be too harsh when you noticed his repetitive tapping and fidgeting.

"The night you came over after Yuna went crazy on live," you started. "I want you to be transparent with me. Was all of that just so you could tell me to stop hanging out with her?"

His lips pressed into a thin line before he answered, "Not completely."

"But you still came over because of that?"

"Yeah."

Of course, that was the answer you expected.

Still, you didn't know the full weight of the truth would shatter you into pieces all over again.

Sort of lost and disconnected, you nodded. "Okay."

Sunghoon let his head hang. You weren't sure how many minutes had passed, but he just stared straight down at the floor while his knee bounced over and over again.

Your boyfriend, whom you had trusted and given all your love to, had just admitted to using your body for his own personal gain.

And all you could say was okay.

"Sungjin found out about Yuna's video," he tried. "I left early that morning because he wanted me to defend you and Heeseung to the Order, or he'd tell Dad. I thought I was doing the right thing."

You could only stare back at him wordlessly.

"I'm sorry," Sunghoon mumbled, and it sounded distorted in your ears, like he had been a broken record droning on and you had just now realized it, but he didn't dare make eye contact with you. "I'm so sorry, Y/N."

He finally raised his head to look at you. The maddened, agonized look in his eyes made your heart twist painfully in your chest.

"Please say something," he begged.

"I just don't really know what to say."

His voice was more fragile, more broken when he said, "I don't wanna—I can't lose you."

"I think you already have."

Although there was little venom behind your words, it appeared to sting Sunghoon all the same.

"I'll tell you everything," he continued with sickening sincerity that made your ears hurt and your head spin.

Why now? Why couldn't he say all of this before? You weren't sure if it was meant to sway you in his favor, but it only made you feel more and more dreadful. You had been begging to listen to him this whole time, but he shut you out until he was about to lose you.

But this was what you came here to do—to talk to him. It wouldn't have been fair if you got your two cents out and left him in the dust. Either way, you wanted everything to come to light, anyway, so you were going to have to let him speak eventually.

"Okay," you agreed, "but I want everything you didn't tell me."

He swallowed thickly and began, "You know how my dad and brother are... all the back-and-forth over who gets Park Pharmaceuticals. Well, now that Sunjin's cleaned up his act, apparently Dad promised it to him, even though I've been preparing to inherit the company my whole life. Everything he's made me do has been for Park Pharmaceuticals, and he just took it all away from me like it's nothing.

"I mean, I've volunteered and done countless internships to prove that I have what it takes; I golf every weekend with company executives or people from the Order; I'm signed under Prada and Chopard; I attend those stupid socials every other day on top of keeping up with coursework for two majors; I know Park Pharmaceuticals like it's on the back of my hand because I've studied the organization inside-and-out and spent months shadowing at the company; I've been slogging day and night to become the man my brother failed to be—the man my father wants me to be—and I still lost to Sungjin. Nothing I do is enough, Y/N—nothing.

"My family keeps expecting me to become someone important, but they're also the ones holding me back. You're the only one who makes me feel like there's a meaning to all of this."

You sucked in a sharp breath, letting his words sink in deep until your bones felt cold and hollow. "You can't say I'm all you have after you pushed me away countless times, Sunghoon," you started. "I really wish you told me all this when I'd beg you to let me help."

"I know," he said in a soft voice, head dipped low again. "I'm sorry. I thought I was protecting you from my dad."

"Your dad? Why would I need protection from your dad?"

Sunghoon hesitated before he spoke, "He... didn't interfere with our relationship because he was banking on us getting married."

"So?" Noticing the guilty look drawn across his features, you prepared yourself for an incoming blow. "What is it?"

"Nothing."

A mumble. Eyes that refused to meet yours. It was clear as day that he was hiding something.

"What is it?" you repeated sharply.

"It doesn't matter anymore."

"If it concerns me, then I'd like to hear it."

His chest swelled from the deep breath he took. "He wanted us to get married... so that Park Pharmaceuticals could acquire your father's hospital chain."

You let it echo in your head once more, and the words swam.

If you thought this conversation was nauseating before, now it was so gut-churning that you could hardly tell if the Earth was spinning at its regular speed. You felt like you had been tugged from right behind your navel and dunked into icy water.

Someone like you, with your family's background, should have expected an outcome like this.

But you never thought Park Sunghoon would be the one to drive the knife into your back.

There was a loud ringing in your head, and you weren't exactly certain if the world was supposed to be swaying around you, but you screwed your eyes shut and asked, "Why Mercy Health? Why would a pharmaceutical company want to acquire a hospital?"

"It's 'cause medical manufacturers pay hospitals a lot of money," he explained, although he was mumbling again and it was getting on your nerves. "I guess Dad's plan is that a joint operation would make more money for both of us."

"A merger between two pharmaceutical corporations would make more sense."

"Dad's always wanted to be a revolutionary. Sales have been flatlining for pharmaceutical giants these days, so that's why he planned for something bigger. Theoretically, it's a smart plan, it's just..."

You scoffed. "You're defending him."

"I'm not—"

"You're sitting there and justifying your dad's actions as if this whole plan doesn't depend on you manipulating me!" You stood up and wedged your Dior clutch under your arm. "You didn't even think to tell me any of this before we started dating, and"—your eyes started watering and your voice was thick with emotion—"you were gonna marry me just for my family's hospital?"

"I never agreed with what my dad was doing, Y/N," he said firmly. "I never wanted you to get involved with him, so I kept it hidden from you, but my feelings for you had nothing to do with the acquisition. I'd never take Mercy Health from you."

"You should've told me before you asked me out!"

"I... thought I was doing the right thing," he replied wearily. "I didn't think it would come to this. I'm sorry."

Anger was rising in your chest. At this point, you didn't even care what you were spitting out at him because you were so infuriated.

"This is exactly your problem," you said, cold as ice, "you think you have a handle on everything, but if you were anyone but Park Sunghoon, everyone would be sick of you by now. You constantly put your company over everyone who actually cares about you. I get that you've worked your whole life for this, but there are people out there who've worked harder than you ever have, and they'll never get the opportunities that you get handed to you."

Judging by the way Sunghoon stiffened and his jaw clenched, you were sure your words had gotten to him—struck him right in his heart.

"I never once said I wasn't privileged," he muttered darkly, standing up to tower over you, "and I wouldn't mention privilege either, if I were you. We're birds of the same feather in that sense."

"I can talk about privilege all I want. You're sitting here complaining about being entitled to inherit an entire company while there are people who can only dream of that opportunity. Heeseung—"

"Don't lash out at me just because you're not motivated enough to inherit Mercy Health," he fired back. "I'm privileged, yes, but I did everything that's been expected of me since I was born. This is what I've been brought up my whole life for. Just because you're terrified of what's expected of you doesn't mean I don't deserve what I've worked for."

Motivated enough. You felt your whole body on edge at his words. How could he bring up your insecurities and anxieties over your future just to argue his point? You remembered the countless nights of you laying in Sunghoon's arms and telling him you were worried that owning Mercy Health wasn't what you wanted for your life. Worried that you could've been doing something you actually loved if you weren't pushed into a career path because of your status.

"This is the real world, Y/N," Sunghoon continued. "Maybe it's not fair that we were set for the rest of our lives as soon as we were born, but this is who we are, and you need to accept that. Face it: I'm probably the only person you're gonna fall in love with that won't have an inferiority complex around you. You're not innocent either, so don't look down on me for my father's actions as if you don't form transactional friendships yourself."

"What? I don't—"

"I remember your notebook very well," he cut you off.

Your blood ran cold.

He continued, "You can talk about our power and privilege, but don't you dare use Heeseung against me when you were the one writing about how 'expendable' he was."

You stiffened. "That—that was a really long time ago. I didn't even believe what I was writing."

"Yeah? Is it 'cause he's rich now? Now he has some worth that makes him good enough for your little circle?"

"You know that I don't think that way anymore!"

"Is that so?" But it didn't sound like a question; Sunghoon wore an impassive look on his face as his eyes bored into yours. "So you're telling me you don't constantly update that little notebook about whose family did what and who you need to get closer to?"

Years ago, back when you were a child, your father handed you a notebook with several pages of information on the children of his business partners and other wealthy families. You were instructed to either get close to certain people or stay away from others. He would draw diagrams for you, essentially ranking who was of importance and who wasn't. Naturally, as you kept having to use and update it, you created your own notes and decided for yourself who you would keep in your circle.

It was maybe a few years ago when the sight of that notebook made you feel sick. You had been categorizing everyone in your life unknowingly without realizing how messed up it was.

Sunghoon naturally was ranked high, but you were already close with him, so your father wasn't too strict about who else you got close to. That was why Heeseung was able to wriggle his way into your friend group, and although you truly valued him, you never said anything when your father had you put him down as expendable in your notebook.

And, although you deeply regretted it, the mindset of collecting information on the people around you had already been engrained into your mentality. Keeping tabs on everyone around you came far too naturally to you.

You supposed that was why you had so many barriers up in your friendships. You always held your friend group at arm's length because of the reputations you all had to uphold. Sunghoon and Heeseung were the only ones you could be yourself around, but that was before your love lives got so complicated.

But the matter at hand was breaking up with Sunghoon. After everything, you were just too exhausted and drained for more fighting.

"Heeseung may have forgiven you for that notebook," Sunghoon pressed on, "but I won't forget how anxious you made me feel back then." All I could think about was if you "

"I know it was fucked up and I'm sorry," you said, "but I seriously don't think of Heeseung—or anyone—like that. He's always been one of my best friends."

Sunghoon's anger seemed to subside, settling back under the sand. He sat back down on the couch with thinly-veiled sadness weighing him down, and he placed his elbows on his knees.

"I'm gonna leave now," you said, "unless you have anything else you wanna say."

"Don't leave yet." He was looking at the floor again. "I'll call you an Uber."

"It's a five minute walk."

"It's late; I don't care."

You sighed and went along with his request, watching as he booked the ride on his app in silence. After momentary confusion dawned on his face, Sunghoon stood up again and walked back over to pull you into a tight embrace.

After everything that he said, you were so certain that you didn't even want to look him in the eye. After feeling his arms around you, though, for what could be the last time as a couple, you ended up wrapping your arms around him and burying your face into his chest. A couple tears fell from your eyes and lingered on the fabric of his sweater.

"I'm sorry I wasn't a better boyfriend," he murmured into your hair. "I don't think our parents are gonna take this well."

You sniffled. "They won't. I don't think I'm gonna tell them yet."

"Do you think we can still be friends?"

You chewed on the idea for a moment. It was the rising hope in Sunghoon's voice that made you feel almost sorry for him.

"Not right now," you ended up saying. "We'll have to once we're in the Order, but I need some time for myself now."

"Okay."

More tears slipped down your cheeks. It was strange but you already missed him, even though you were still holding onto him. Maybe it was because once your ride was here, you knew that would be the last time you would be holding onto Park Sunghoon like this.

Neither of you said anything and just held each other tightly, hands nearly trembling in fear of letting go for the last time. When Sunghoon's phone buzzed, the both of you reluctantly separated and peered at his screen.

The Uber (which he paid a ridiculous amount for) was parked outside.

"So this is it," he said.

"This is it."

Without even thinking, you two gravitated toward each other with ease. Sunghoon held your face as if it were glass while you drew him in for a kiss with your arms wrapped around his neck. You pulled away before either of you could get carried away and gave him a sad smile.

"I'll see you later, Hoon," you said.

With longing etched deep in his eyes, Sunghoon murmured, "See you."

You felt numb during your short ride home, hardly keeping conversation with the driver. Everything that happened only sank in hours later, so you drew a hot bath and cried until you couldn't cry anymore.

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SUMMARY ▸ private investigator jay park just wants to complete his mission quietly and move on with his life. you, his new assignment who keeps consuming his thoughts, don't make that very easy for him.

TAG LIST ▸ @zdgx1 @smouches @heesdazed @teawithbucky @leep0ems @peachpie4you @niniissus @kgneptun @jaeyunluvr @hooniesuniverse @zerasari @enhalov @sophiko22 @iselltulips @hoondiors @baekhyunstruly @jays-property @woninluv @heerinnie @fakeuwus @yizhoutv @en-happiness @theothernads @y4wnjunz @dammit-jjk @en-happiness @mari-oclock @enhypens-baby @soonyoungblr @jakeslvt @taetaenic @jebetwo @fairysungx @hsgwrld @shmooooo @ineedsomezzz @mrowwww @enha-stars @isawritesss @seongclb @lockburn-castle @alyssajavenss @enczen @calumsfringe @w3bqrl @luvyev @uhsakusa @luvnicho @wildflowermooon

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mangowillow · 1 year

Text

perhaps love

pairing: jungkook x (f) reader

summary: for as long as you can remember, you have been in love with your childhood friend turned roommate, but jeon jungkook remains oblivious even when he comes to comfort and help you sleep every night.

genre/tags: fluff, friends to lovers, unrequited love, angst, hurt & comfort, mentions of drinking & insomnia

word count: 12.5 k

a/n: no matter how many times i tear this story down, it will always come back swinging. perhaps love was the very first fic i wrote for the fandom and this story means a ton.

For as long as you could remember, you had loved Jungkook with all of your heart.

But the reality is, love seemed out of reach, a far stretch. Not when Jungkook was first and foremost your best friend.

The whole apartment was surrounded by darkness, except for the pure moonlight that seeped through your bedroom window. Your room was your favorite place in the world-- away from everyone, just you and the stillness. You had really bad sleeping habits and your insomnia has gotten worse over time. You tried everything to fall asleep, including hot showers and scented candles. Nothing worked… except for Jungkook.

Jungkook usually played games into the night as his own way to unwind from the stress of being one of the most sought-after graphic artists. When he’s not holding the console, he’s nose deep into his computer or tablet, illustrating his next commission. He just submitted his drafts for his latest client’s marketing kit a few hours prior so he could afford to while away his time tonight. He walked to the kitchen to grab another can of beer when he saw your bedroom door slightly ajar. He padded his way through the hall and leaned against the doorframe, watching your peaceful expression

“Can’t sleep?”

You turned your head in the direction of the bedroom door. Jungkook’s gentle voice that echoed through the quiet of their shared apartment was his other favorite place in the world.

“It’s always hard.”

Jungkook pushed the door further and went inside. You two had been living together for almost two years and Jungkook already knew the layout of the space like the back of his hand. He set the unopened beer can on the bedside table and went under the duvet with you. It had always been this simple-- it was either Jungkook grabbed an extra beer can and share it with you or coaxed you to sleep entirely. Tonight, it was the latter. Jungkook ran a hand up and down your back.

You felt a pang inside your chest. It was barely there but still felt. Tonight was different, lonelier. You closed your eyes, thinking that maybe this was just how it had to be.

“Tell me what you need,” Jungkook muttered.

“Gguk…” you started. Jungkook hummed, ever so kind, so patient. “Can you help me sleep?”

Years of friendship made words between you comfortable and safe. Your insomnia started right around the time your dance studio was gaining more enrollees and by the end of a year, you already needed to hire a few more dancers and bigger studio space. Jungkook was there to witness all your hard work, sleepless nights trying to perfect a routine you had to teach every week. Jungkook was there to help you through the breakdowns and occasionally had to endure your spats, to which you apologized for with ramen and kimbap.

You and Jungkook go way back, but tonight it’s just the two of you and your shared present. Jungkook helped you lay down on the bed and your heart swelled . Jungkook lay on his side as he gently guided you to face him. In the calm of the night, you saw stars in Jungkook’s eyes. You willed yourself not to speak for fear of breaking the moment. Jungkook started to caress your cheek ever so lightly, eyes falling close as you reveled in the softness of how Jungkook took care of you. As Jungkook continued to comfort you, he started singing your favorite sleep song.

now playing: watch you sleep. by girl in red

Jungkook’s melodious voice rang through the room with much reverence. You both find yourselves busy in life, but you always, always come back home to each other-- and that thought makes your heart ache so much more. Tonight might be lonely, but you also treasured moments like this when you allowed yourself to surrender, to take pleasure in being with Jungkook. By the time he finished the song, you were already fighting to stay awake.

I want to be with you for longer.

“What about your game, Gguk?”

“I will play another round before I go to bed. Right now, you’re more important.” Jungkook tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “I’ll stay with you for as long as you need me to.”

“Gguk-ah.”

A smirk found its way into Jungkook’s pretty lips. He knew what was coming next.

“Can you stay?”

It felt like the whole room stilled ten times over.

“I mean… just for tonight,” you quickly added, worried you might’ve said the wrong thing too late.

Jungkook gently got up from the bed and walked out the door, leaving you to wonder if you messed up. Yeah, you did , you thought. Was it that easy to mess things up? Was Jungkook really that uninterested? As you listened to Jungkook’s footsteps, you also heard the gameplay music coming from the living room abruptly stop. A few objects were heard being moved around until Jungkook’s footsteps once again became louder.

Jungkook said nothing as he closed the door to your bedroom, his weight sinking into the other side of the bed.

Oh, he came back, your mind dumbly said.

It was always familiar, that feeling of Jungkook being too close. You wished it never had to end. Jungkook slid an arm under you and the other caged you in closer to his chest. He dropped a light kiss to the top of your head and picked up where his hands left off— grazing your spine.

“Are you cold?”

You swore you heard Jungkook smile through his words.

“No. The duvet can cover us both, I think.”

“Hmm. I’ll hold you through the night in case the duvet falls.”

Jungkook placed another feathery kiss on your forehead. A few seconds seemed to have passed with nothing but comfortable silence, two hearts beating for one another.

“Goodnight, Jungkook.”

You felt Jungkook’s hold on you grow tighter.

“Goodnight, ____.”

The morning after was both the easiest and hardest thing you had to face because it was either you woke up to Jungkook still peacefully sleeping beside you or to an already empty bedside.

This time around, Jungkook was already awake and smiling.

Smiling.

You thought it to be so endearing and cruel of him at the same time. Jungkook never watched you sleep before.

Chuckling probably because he saw your wide eyes, he asked, “Did you sleep well?”

You shifted before nodding with a small smile. “How about you?”

“Like a baby.”

You chuckled too as he yawned and stretched. You’re so beautiful like this.

“What do you want for breakfast, ___?”

“Do we still have eggs?”

Jungkook nodded, “and bacon, too.”

“Ugh, heaven on earth. I’ll have both, please.”

Jungkook smiled warmly like he was the soft morning light himself, “I’ll whip us some pancakes, too.”

You nodded, yawning a second time. You got up to brush your teeth and do the usual morning skincare routine. As you stared at yourself through the mirror, you thought about how you could feel so content living with Jungkook like this— peaceful with endless possibilities.

You realized your love for Jungkook on a rainy day when both of you were supposed to try and fly the kites you made over Gwangalli beach in Busan. You remember feeling bummed out because Jungkook put so much hard work into making those kites, only to be destroyed by a sudden downpour. You’d expected Jungkook to be upset as well, but to your surprise, Jungkook pulled you into the pouring rain to dance. He always did that. You thought he was crazy for doing so, but you went along with your fifteen-year-old friend’s absurd idea.

It was a good thing you let yourself be pulled into pouring rain by Jeon Jungkook… because from then on, your love for him just grew. Blossomed like the spring flowers on a cool afternoon.

You were pulled out from your memories when you heard a phone ring. You quickly finished combing your hair and went out of the room, feeling hopeful about breakfast.

“...hyeong, I’m not sure if this is a good idea.”

It was Jungkook speaking to someone on the other end of the line. He had his AirPods on as he waited for the bacon to turn crispy— just the way you liked it. You sat down across from Jungkook on the kitchen counter and he gave you a small smile, even though his eyebrows were furrowed.

“Okay, fine, fine, I’ll go… I’ll see you later.” Jungkook tapped the right AirPod twice, ending the call. You could tell something was off.

“Everything okay?”

Jungkook didn’t answer right away as he transferred the bacon onto a plate with paper towels. “Yeah, that was Yoongi hyeong”

“Oh great, are you guys meeting up later?” You tried to make light of the situation, but could already feel the other shoe was about to drop.

You’ve always had that lingering anxiety at the pit of your stomach whenever you were with Jungkook. It co-exists, always present as your love for him. It’s the product of a love unreciprocated.

Jungkook hummed, too concentrated on the eggs in front of him. “Hyeong set me up on a date with someone.”

“Oh…”

Jungkook kept his head down as he cooked, but you didn’t miss how he looked up briefly at you the moment the small surprise left your lips.

“That’s great, Jungkook. Isn’t it? It’s about time you tried dating again.”

The morning was already starting to crumble right before you could even get through breakfast.

“Yeah, I… I think it’d be fun. I’ll see how it goes.”

You have seen Jungkook’s fair share of dating experiences over the course of your friendship. He never brought anyone home to your apartment, but you almost always witnessed how fleeting his dates were. It wasn’t as if Jungkook didn’t like them, it’s just that he prioritized his work more than the possibility of finding love. The last one Jungkook dated was like a tornado in human form. You remembered how happy he always seemed to be after their dates. He’d tell you about how she made him want to come out of his shell more and that maybe, just maybe she could be the one. You were happy for his best friend then, you always were. But you were also heartbroken seeing your childhood love date other people, let alone look at them differently. You had only met the girl once— and you immediately understood why Jungkook liked her. Kind, charming, and passionate about art and life. An advocate for women’s rights, a cat lover.

Everything that you didn’t seem to be.

You don’t know how the relationship ended, though. That’s the thing about Jungkook— with you, he was magic and light, wild and full of compassion, but when it came to sharing his feelings, he always had a hard time expressing them. You are as patient as ever though, never pushing Jungkook to emotional places where he didn’t want to be.

You will always wait for Jungkook. But is it worth it?

“You should really get out of the house, Jungkook. Go and have fun. Your art will be waiting for you here at home,” you tried to smile as Jungkook handed you your breakfast request.

“You sound like you really want me out of the house, ____.” Jungkook teased.

You dramatically sighed, threw in a slight roll of your eyes for good measure, “I just want what’s best for you. You know that.”

“I always know, ____.”

You will always look out for him. Love him from afar. You will always choose your best friend. You could only wish that Jungkook would choose you, too.

You definitely felt like an idiot waiting up for Jungkook.

You liked to tell yourself that Jungkook’s mystery date didn’t bother you at all, but being alone in the apartment on your day off didn’t help much because you thought about the said date all day long.

Here’s the problem: You didn’t know you were so bothered.

Well, you, knew why… in a way. But you didn’t like admitting it to yourself because it becomes so much clearer. Jungkook has always been a constant in your life, a friend through thick and thin-- but that’s the issue. Jungkook is a friend.

You heard faint footsteps becoming louder until someone was punching the code to unlock the door— Jungkook was home. You quickly glanced at the clock. It was only 9 pm. He’s home early, isn’t he? What does coming home early or late from a date even mean ? You shook your head rapidly, willing the ridiculous questions away when the familiar melody of the door successfully unlocking rang through the room, and in came Jungkook. You repositioned yourself at lightning speed, pretended to watch TV, and only looked up when Jungkook came into view.

“Hey. How did your date go?” Your eyes flitted back to the screen in front of you, feigning indifference.

Jungkook plopped next to you on the couch and stretched his legs, “T’was good.”

Turning your body to face Jungkook you asked, “How good is good?”

Jungkook chuckled as he intertwined his fingers behind his neck. He didn’t pry his eyes away from the TV, which was showing a variety show about refrigerators.

“We had dinner. Mia was a nice girl, very polite.”

Ah, so the name was Mia. You slowly nodded before tilting your head to the side, revealing a small smirk, “did you have fun at least?”

“I guess it was alright. You know how awkward blind dates make me feel.”

“What makes them awkward again?”

“I’m not sure exactly… It's like I just don’t know how to act around them, let alone know what to say. It’s— I’m not even sure if she had a good time, to be honest.”

“Well, I’m sure he had a good time,” you turned your attention back to the TV but muted the volume. Why was there a face towel inside one of the refrigerators?

“What makes you so sure, ____?”

You shrugged, “You’re pretty amazing Jungkook. Funny, smart, very attuned to others. I think you just don’t see it because, you know, it’s you.”

Jungkook pursed his lips. The momentary silence between you wasn’t uncomfortable.

“Why are you still up, ____?” Jungkook suddenly murmured. He was still facing the TV, but he had his eyes closed.

You suddenly felt a need to fiddle with the hem of your shirt. When you didn’t respond, Jungkook opened his eyes and turned to face you. “Do you need help sleeping, ____?”

“I really shouldn’t ask for too much, Jungkook. It must be uncomfortable not sleeping in your own bed.”

Jungkook gently flicked a finger at your forehead. You feigned hurt.

“Silly. Come on, let’s get ready for bed. It’s getting late and you have an early class tomorrow, right?” You didn’t even know he remembered your schedule. You let Jungkook pull you by the wrist, leading the way to your bedroom.

Like coming home, you slotted yourself comfortably in between Jungkook’s waiting arms as you both lay in bed. Jungkook rested his chin on top of your head and breathed in your soft, powdery scent. You instantly felt Jungkook relax, all tension starting to ebb away, but maybe it was all just in your head.

“I’m sorry, Jungkook. I just… I don’t know, I have a long day tomorrow and I need to sleep.”

Jungkook adjusted himself in a way to give you some wiggle room but still held you close. “You don’t have to apologize. I completely understand how pressured you must feel, especially because the dance studio is going through big transitions.”

In your mind, you were thinking of all the ways you and Jungkook just clicked . But there’s that tiny part of you that feels that maybe this arrangement wasn’t the most ideal because for all you knew, Mia might just be a really great girl and Jungkook just needed time to warm up to her. Having Jungkook this close was your dream-- a dream you’ve always kept safe in the recesses of your mind. Now that it’s actually happening— and that it’s been happening for a while now— you crave this closeness more and more and yet, you also feel guilty because you needed to run in the opposite direction. Before things got too painful.

“I can hear you thinking.”

Your body went stiff so Jungkook pulled you much closer as he ran a hand through your hair. He looked at you, eyes soft and half-lidded, your faces too close you felt like something else was going to happen.

But nothing ever happened. Of course.

He held your gaze a bit longer and you wanted to tell him the truth. Tell him to look at you just this once. But words failed you once more.

“Thank you, Gguk.”

Not a lot of words need to be exchanged. You have been friends for so long that almost all your movements and emotions, no matter how subtle, were easily discernible. You know when Jungkook is having one of his creative blocks because he becomes irritable. Jungkook knows that you can sometimes be too hard on yourself when it comes to dancing, so he cooks your favorite bibimbap as a way to ease his stress. You and Jungkook just know how to comfort one another.

“My silly darling,” He never called you that before, but you could almost hear Jungkook smile as he uttered it. “I want to be here.”

If your heart suddenly stopped, you hoped Jungkook didn’t notice. I want to be here, he said. With a languid smile on your tired face, you succumbed to the pull of sleep, hoping your dreams about Jungkook would never end.

“You already picked the last movie, ____.”

“Fine, we can watch one of yours.”

Jungkook’s bunny smile reappeared and your heart grew ten times its size. After eating dinner, you both decided to watch a movie. After all, it was a Friday night and neither of you had the energy to spend it outside with other people. You watched as Jungkook flicked through the movie choices until he finally settled on a Marvel movie.

You were already halfway through the movie when the doorbell rang. You and Jungkook looked at each other, both of you surprised because you weren’t expecting anyone at this late hour. As you shrugged your shoulders, Jungkook got up to answer the door.

You decided to pause the movie because you didn’t want Jungkook to miss anything, but doing so made it clear that the sudden visitor was actually Yoongi.

The location of the door wasn’t too far off from where you were sitting. You didn’t mean to eavesdrop either, but you couldn’t help but wonder why Jungkook didn't let Yoongi in.

“Mia told me about your date. I don’t understand, Jungkook, you both said you had a great time, so what’s the problem?”

Oh, they were talking about Jungkook’s date. At this hour?

“I don’t know, hyeong. I guess it never occurred to me to call her so quickly after a first date. Did you come all the way here just to ask that?” Jungkook was a fairly mellow person. Almost never irritable with anyone but himself, just very patient even when you could see how other people were already pushing his buttons.

“I think Mia really likes you, Gguk-ah. You should call her. I also came by to bring you back some of your art supples because you left them at the studio yesterday.”

You heard plastic rustling. Jungkook didn’t answer right away, not until his voice lowered, almost sounding like he was pleading.

“Let me think about it, hyeong. Please?”

Yoongi sounded a bit exasperated, “Fine. How’s ____?”

“She’s fine. We were actually watching a movie,” Jungkook was back to his usual tone of voice, but clipper.

“Oh, that’s nice…”

“Would you like to join us? We still have a beer in the fridge, I think.”

“No, I just… I was just about to go home and thought I’d stop by to give you your things because I already had them in the car, but uh— yeah. Maybe some other time.”

It didn’t register with you right away that Jungkook had Mia’s number. Whether Jungkook asked for it or the other way around, they still exchanged numbers. There was a chance of a second date. You didn’t notice the lump forming in your throat as you came to realize again that Jungkook wasn’t yours. You had no right to think this way about Jungkook and his love life. He lives his own life, free to date anyone, anytime.

You weren’t supposed to hear this conversation either. The feeling of impending dread slowly crept up on you. All you knew was that whatever you were feeling right now is something that shouldn’t even be happening.

You were pulled out of your thoughts when you saw Jungkook return from the corner of his eye. You suddenly lost all strength to continue the movie. Without even thinking, you pulled yourself up to your feet with the intention of going back to your room. Maybe sleep would do something to dull the ache.

But then you remembered you had a hard time doing that, too.

Jungkook opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out. You held out hope for a minute there— hope that maybe Jungkook would tell you he was sorry, but then again, what would he be sorry for? He shouldn’t feel sorry for anything, especially not your feelings.

The sadness was starting to fester through your bones again. You had to get out of the living room, away from the one person who could make you feel better. Wordlessly, you let your feet take you to the bedroom and quietly shut the door.

Jungkook never tried to pry nor force you to explain anything to him. He was always the understanding one, always the one who gave you your space when you needed it, even when you were being cold to him.

That’s the thing with Jungkook— he knew exactly when to be there for you. Except for this time around, not even Jungkook’s presence can heal an unknown emptiness that you don’t even recognize yourself.

Nine-year-old you never really liked the first few hours after school because that meant you had to stay and wait until your mom picked you up. School grounds can get pretty lonely, especially when all the other kids have already gone home. Young as you were, you found it funny that both you and your mom ended up closing shop every day— you closing school grounds, while your mom closed the register at the grocery store where she worked.

What nine-year-old you hated the most was when you had to wait after school while it rained because you couldn’t walk around the courtyard and play.

You hugged your knees as you rocked yourself back and forth watching the rain splatter on the cold, hard ground. Of all days, you forgot to bring a jacket and you were starting to shiver. It was only four o’clock in the afternoon. Your mom wouldn’t arrive until six.

Just after you let out a big sigh, a boy came running in your direction carrying an umbrella. Strange. No one but you usually stayed at school this late.

When the boy reached the stairs and closed his umbrella, he shook off excess water from his already wet hair, causing a few droplets to splatter all over your face.

“Oops, sorry about that.”

The boy gave you his widest smile as he continued to catch his breath from running too fast. You usually saw this boy walk along the school hallways, always surrounded by his friends. You were also clubmates in dance.

“My name’s Jungkook. We go to dance club together.”

“I know...” You replied as you rested your chin on top of your knees again.

“You dance really well, I wish I could be as graceful as you… anyway, what are you still doing here?”

“I’m waiting for my mom. She usually picks me up, but she has to finish her job at the store first.”

“Oh, okay. How long do you still have to wait for her?”

“Probably a few more hours,” you didn’t mean for your tone to be somber, but you couldn’t help it.

As much as you love your parents, sometimes it can get quite lonely.

“That might take forever!” Jungkook’s eyes grew wide but you found it amusing. Most people would just say ‘oh’ and move on. Or maybe pity you.

“It’s no big deal, I’m used to it already.”

“Well, do you want to grab something to eat first?”

While you knew Jungkook meant no harm, you still wondered why he was offering all of a sudden. What was he even doing here?

“I don’t think—”

“My driver Mr. Hong-sik is parked right outside near a hotteok stand. Let’s go buy some!”

You hesitated because you weren’t supposed to leave the school grounds until an adult came to pick you up but at the same time, you were really hungry.

“What do you say?”

“Do you promise that we will go back here after buying?”

Jungkook was already nodding, his smile growing wide again upon hearing the possibility of you giving in to the idea of hot hotteok.

“Yes, of course. Mr. Hong-sik will take care of us, don’t worry. Besides—” Jungkook opened his umbrella, droplets of rain splattered across your face again, “—this umbrella is big enough to fit us both.”

“Okay, let’s go.”

It would only be years later when Jungkook admitted to you that he had known for a while how you spent your days alone after school and that he wanted to keep you company.

When you were seventeen and Jungkook fifteen, the school dance team won an award. You both celebrated by eating ramen and ice cream at your mother’s grocery store.

When you and Jungkook went to college, you decided to share a room together because you both got into SNU. Over the years mishaps had happened, you both cringed at each other’s disaster dates, and cried when you had your hearts broken by careless people. Through the highs and lows of life and love, you and Jungkook were a team.

Now that you are twenty-six and Jungkook twenty-four, you continue to conquer the world together.

Except that you never expected to slowly fall for the boy who accidentally splattered water on your face twice and shared his umbrella.

“Yah— stop eating all of the danmuji!” Taehyung playfully snapped as he chewed on his jajangmyeon.

“I already told you to order extra, but of course, you didn’t listen again,” you replied, happily chewing on the kimchi.

“I totally forgot, okay? Let me breathe,” Taehyung pouted. “It’s not every day when little kids come into the studio and wreak havoc during hip hop class.” You chuckled at your best friend’s whining and placed a piece of danmuji on top of his noodles. Taehyung looked to you and mumbled his thanks.

You were sitting with your legs sprawled out on the dance floor of the dance studio. Both of you just finished your separate intensive classes and were fueling up for the next set this afternoon.

“I heard Jungkook went out on a date,” Taehyung isn’t really one for dilly-dallying. Always straight to the point.

“Yoongi told you, huh?”

“Of course. The man could never hide secrets from me. Not in our household.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Jungkook did go on a date,” you didn’t like where the conversation was going, but you couldn’t bring yourself to stop Taehyung from asking further either. A part of you wanted to talk about it with someone.

“And how do you feel about that?” Taehyung shoved a piece of kimchi onto his mouth and waited for your answer.

You started to re-arrange the toppings on your plate, trying to avoid eye contact all of a sudden, “what do you mean?”

“I know you, ____. You can’t hide from me.”

You chuckled at your best friend’s blunt nature. It’s one of the things you liked most about him because you were the opposite— always caring, understanding, nice. You put others first before yourself because that’s who you are— the reliable friend. You know Taehyung means well and is just looking out for you, too.

“Do I have to answer your question?”

“You don’t have to, but I can tell it’s bothering you. You didn’t even notice that I took the last piece of chicken just now—”

“YAH!”

Taehyung snickered, “But seriously, you’re quiet than usual. Does he still help you sleep?”

“He does.”

“And he hasn’t said anything beyond that?”

“What is he supposed to say?”

Taehyung shrugged, “You tell me.”

“We’re friends, Taehyung. There’s nothing else to say” You let your shoulders sag. You’re surprised at yourself that you’ve been holding the tension in.

“After everything—” Taehyung paused and bit his bottom lip, trying to carefully choose what to say next, “Did it ever occur to you that maybe the reason why he volunteers to help you sleep is that he likes you too?”

“Stop putting ideas into my head.”

“I’m not, but I do want to point out what you can’t see, ____. I’m your best friend— Jungkook is, too, but with us it’s different. I don’t feel the urge to jump you every so often, ah!---” Taehyung earned a playful smack from you, “Look, all I’m saying is… you and Jungkook have been friends for a really long time so why don’t you just talk to him?”

You started to argue, “It’s not that easy. It might ruin our friendship.”

“But how else are you going to get past this?”

“Take my feelings to the grave,” you expressed glumly.

“So dramatic. And very, very difficult for you to bear all on your own.”

“I’m scared, Taehyung. What if things become awkward?”

“Will Jungkook really let it come to that? He’s your best friend. If he says he doesn’t feel the same way, the more important thing here is you. You and your heart— because at least in knowing, you can finally move forward. Date other people without the what ifs.”

You seemed to mull over Taehyung’s words.

“I’m not forcing you to ask him. At the end of the day, you get to decide. I just want you to be happy, ____. Always.”

“I know, Taehyung-ie. Thank you.”

You came home that night to Jungkook passed out from exhaustion on their couch. He still had his eyeglasses on, his apple pencil caught in between his fingers. His iPad was on top of the coffee table and you assumed that Jungkook rushed yet again another commission for a client. It was still early— 8 o’ clock. You wondered if Jungkook had already eaten. You draped a blanket over him and adjusted his head on one of the pillows into a more comfortable position. The movement slightly jostled Jungkook awake. With half-lidded eyes, he gave you a sleepy smile.

“Hi ____, you’re home.”

“Hmm, I am.”

“How was class today?”

“Excellent. Did you get to finish that commission?”

Jungkook yawned, “Barely... ”

You reluctantly caressed Jungkook hair, fingers gently rubbing his scalp. As soon as you did, his eyes fell closed.

“Have you eaten, Gguk-ah?”

“Not yet. I was waiting for you.”

“You didn’t have to. What if I came home really late? You can’t miss your meals.”

“You’re here now, aren’t you?”

You chuckled as he mumbled, “Brat. I’ll whip us up some kimchi kimbap and ramen. How does that sound?”

“I’d love that, thank you.”

“You can sleep more. I’ll wake you up when dinner’s ready.”

“I can help you—”

“Stay put. I’ll be quick, okay?”

Jungkook nodded as he watched you disappear into the kitchen. You prepared all the supplies needed to make dinner and as soon as you started chopping the kimchi for the kimbap, you heard Jungkook’s soft snores.

Suddenly, all of your fears ebbed away. Emotions were a funny thing— the fondness you had for Jungkook overtook your whole being everytime you looked at him. Sometimes you want to feel angry at how Jungkook seemed oblivious, but then again… he isn’t really a mind-reader. You have always been affectionate with each other and you wondered where people drew the line between friendship and love. What happens when one catches feelings? What happens to both of you if a confession was the way to settle things once and for all? The stakes were too high— confessing your feelings for Jungkook might make him pull away. What happens to the friendship built over the years? If you were lucky, maybe Jungkook might love you, too.

You were in a bind and you didn’t like that.

Jungkook slept on the living room couch, tired from the day’s work. You both make meals for each other. You sleep together on the same bed. Shouldn’t life with Jungkook be this easy?

And obvious?

After twenty minutes, dinner was ready. You woke Jungkook up and he devoured the simple dinner over stories of your classes and his ideas for the client’s project.

This friendship is simple. Light. It is a life well lived between two childhood friends that began with a shared an umbrella and hotteok. You wished it was always this uncomplicated.

Jungkook helped you sleep again that night. Not a lot of words were shared because you were honestly exhausted and just when you thought you didn’t need cuddles, Jungkook went into your room and laid on your bed, not uttering a single word. He only wrapped his arms around you and breathed in your cotton scent.

“You’re always helping me, Jungkook.”

“Is it working? Are you sleeping well?”

“I am, thanks to you.”

“I’m glad. I’m really glad, ____.”

All is right in this world, all is well with us this way, you thought before you gave in to the pull of sleep for another night.

You woke up to the sunlight and an empty bed. Muffled sounds could be heard from outside the bedroom.

“Mia’s kind of annoyed that she gave you his number but you still haven’t called her”

“I know.”

“Is this about ____? Is that why you haven’t—”

“I don’t know, hyeong, it’s too early to have this conversation.”

Yoongi came into view as soon as you reached the kitchen. His back was turned to you and it seemed like he was cooking pancakes. Jungkook was sitting on the stool by the counter and had his back to you.

“Oh, good morning, ____,” Yoongi chimed.

“Good morning.”

Jungkook poured you a glass of orange juice, “Slept well?”

You didn’t have your words yet so you just nodded. Even with Yoongi busy with the stove, you felt the tension that made itself known so suddenly around the kitchen.

And for some reason, Jungkook decided to throw out the trash, leaving you and Yoongi alone for a while.

“How are you, ____” Yoongi asked as he gave you a serving of pancakes, egg, and bacon. The last thing you expected was to wake up to breakfast prepared by a visitor sprinkled with passive confrontation.

You sipped his orange juice again before replying, “I’m doing well. Dance classes are picking up.”

“I’m glad… and Jungkook?”

“What do you mean?”

“How is Jungkook… and you?”

It was way too early for this conversation.

“I need you to be a bit more specific about what you really want to ask me, Yoongi.”

Yoongi was met with an almost deafening silence. You knew that apart from him, Jungkook confided in Yoongi the most. He knew most of Jungkook’s dating escapades and with that, his heart aches too. Yoongi is Jungkook’s fiercest protector, you are well-aware. You understand how he tends to be confrontational especially when it came to Jungkook’s feelings.

Because they go way back.

In all honesty, you were terrified of Yoongi knowing about how Jungkook had been helping you sleep, but you didn’t know why you were scared. Yoongi is your friend too, after all.

Maybe because you wanted to keep such intimate moments with Jungkook for yourself. Something that was yours, and yours alone. Unfortunately, you had a gut feeling Yoongi knows a lot more than he’s letting on.

“Jungkook just started dating again, ____.”

“I’m all too aware. I don’t think I’m going to be a problem.”

“It might be if Jungkook helps you sleep every night.”

And there it is.

“We’re just friends, Yoongi. I’m not expecting anything from him.” You felt your heart sink to your feet, trampled on. Yoongi knew.

But why was frustration rising up in the back of your throat?

“Are you sure you’re not expecting anything?”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Tension, tension, tension. You hated it.

“You had your chance once, ____, and you walked away. It’s not fair for you to do this to Jungkook again.”

And there it is. The word again .

You swallowed the lump in your throat, lightly tapping the glass of juice with your fingers, willing for the tears to retreat back to where they came from. You cannot afford to cry in front of Yoongi. Or Jungkook. It was too goddamn early.

You did not sign up to have your memories, your insecurities, and your reality laid bare on the kitchen counter.

“It doesn’t matter how I feel. Jungkook is my friend. He always will be.”

Vulnerability wasn’t your strongest suit. You weren't your emotions’ best soldier, either. You wanted to yell at Yoongi, shout at him for even implying that you were getting in the way of Jungkook and his dating life.

“Jungkook cannot date freely if he always has to think about coming home to help you sleep,” Yoongi’s words cut like a knife, making you wince. “You know he deserves better than that. You deserve better than that.”

You have very blunt and straightforward friends, and although they keep you grounded, sometimes you hate how they can casually talk to you about your feelings. Sometimes you think they forget that your sunny disposition can also be sometimes moored by rain and storms.

“I’m sorry, ____. That was too much, I—”

“No, Yoongi, it’s okay,” tears have already fallen and you hastily wiped them away, “You’re right, it was my fault. I’m the one who got us into this mess. I’m the one who has the sleeping problem, I’ll— I’ll figure something out, maybe get checked or something…” You kept your eyes glued to the untouched food in front of you. Throat burning, fresh tears threatening to fall once more.

Yoongi’s words stung— but he’s also right. The pain of the unspoken truth you try so hard to push down every day come rising to the surface and you are powerless to stop it.

Yoongi opened his mouth to say something, but immediately closed it the moment he looked over your shoulder. Your stomach churned because your worst fears weren’t done with you yet— Jungkook was standing by the door.

“I think it’s time for you to leave, Yoongi hyeong.” The only time you heard apparent hostility in Jungkook’s voice was years ago when someone attempted to jump you at a party. Jungkook is always kind, but when irritation, let alone animosity, takes over, he becomes a completely different person.

All you knew was that Jungkook and his girlfriend in tornado form are over.

The music blaring from the speakers were too loud, everyone was all over the place— Jungkook, Yoongi, Taehyung. It was Jungkook’s idea to get wasted at a club. You didn’t always agree with Jungkook’s coping mechanisms, because you knew he was a terrible drinker— someone who couldn’t hold his liquor well.

But he was heartbroken and what do good friends do? Let them cry and wallow.

But right now, it was time to go home. You called a cab for Yoongi and Taehyung, while you and Jungkook got into another. It was a good decision that you didn’t bring your own car. You wouldn’t have any other choice but to drag Jungkook’s drunk ass to the passenger seat and you weren’t sure you could manage that.

You were thankful that Jungkook could still manage to walk, even if he needed to be physically supported by you. You both fumbled for a bit as you closed your apartment door behind you.

“Alright, you big baby, take off your shoes.”

Jungkook did as he was told, but you could tell his body was about to give up on him so you hastily walked him to the bedroom.

You heaved a big sigh after Jungkook collapsed into the mattress. You could hear Jungkook’s breathing slowly steady itself and you honestly thought he was asleep.

“Are you dead?”

When Jungkook didn’t move, a playful smirk painted your lips and you shook your head. You leaned in closer to fluff Jungkook’s pillow, when his head suddenly turned to face you.

With eyes half-lidded, you thought Jungkook looked beautiful underneath the sliver of moonlight shining through the bedroom window. He reeked of alcohol and smoke, but you didn’t mind. You couldn’t help but hold his gaze.

Hesitant fingers reached up to trace the skin on your cheek. Jungkook blinked once as he ran gently ran his fingers from the corner of your eye to your chin.

Jungkook’s voice was so soft, you almost didn't hear him ask, “Why don’t you like me, ____?”

“What are you talking about, of course I like you.”

Jungkook shook his head, “That’s not what I meant…”

Your heart was beating wildly in your chest. You reminded yourself that Jungkook was intoxicated. He wouldn’t remember this tomorrow. He might not even know what he is doing or saying right now.

“Why can’t you love me, ____?” Jungkook swallowed the lump forming in his throat, “because I have loved you for so long and you won’t even look at me.”

You wanted to cry, but you didn’t exactly know why, “That’s not true, Jungkook.”

“Then prove it, ____.”

“I don’t know how.”

Jungkook, in a way, helped you. With eyes focused on your lips, he slowly lifted his head to graze your mouth with his own. When he finally kissed you, your head was spinning that you had to use your arm for support to keep you up.

Jungkook mustered up all of his remaining strength to sit up on the bed to kiss you properly. He cupped your face with his hand and you did the same. Under the same moonlight, you and Jungkook started to take that one step closer to finally acknowledging what has been there all along.

But in your head, you didn’t know what you want.

Lips separated, letting the both of you breathe. Jungkook touched his forehead against yours before his lips planted a light, lingering kiss there.

Your heart sank even deeper and you fought the tears that were about to come.

Because even though you really loved Jungkook, you and he were at the right place at the wrong time.

The next morning, you and Jungkook weren’t the type to dance around each other. He did remember what happened last night.

“I need to know, ____. I need to know what you want.”

“I’m sorry, Jungkook.”

Jungkook nodded, but you didn’t miss the flash of sadness that passed through his once hopeful eyes.

“Are we still friends at least?”

It took all of you to nod your head in agreement. It was better this way.

“Of course we are.”

“Then that’s all I want, ____.”

Just as Yoongi closed the door behind him and it was just you and Jungkook in the now tense atmosphere of the apartment, confusion flooded you. Dread soon followed upon realizing what had just happened.

You were holding Jungkook back and it’s all your fault. All because you still couldn’t decide what you really want.

When Jungkook finally locked eyes with you, his gentle gaze made your heart flutter. You don’t deserve it, you thought. But you were allured by it-- so easy to get lost in the sea of Jungkook’s beautiful, observant brown eyes, like they were meant to see right through you, heart and soul. Your face slowly morphed into a pain Jungkook didn’t recognize, a sadness he hasn’t seen before. Your bottom lip began to quiver and before you knew it, you full-on sobbed into your hands. Just as quickly as the collapse of everything began, Jungkook was swift on his feet, taking you into his arms.

Jungkook embraces you tightly, his breathing controlled in an effort to curb your sobs. You could hear Jungkook’s heartbeat and it was an odd source of comfort despite the distress you were actively feeling. You felt Jungkook’s large hand stroke your hair in slow motion, chin resting on top of your head as if trying to silently tell you don’t cry.

Being with Jungkook felt like drowning and coming up for air all at the same time— your constant, but also your poison. Yoongi was right, Jungkook deserves to be happy after you blew your chance to tell him how you really felt.

You loved Jungkook, but you had to let him go because he doesn’t deserve to be with someone who cannot make up her mind. When you said no to him a year ago, you thought it was the best for the both of you— Jungkook was hurting and he kissed you because he was drunk and in pain. Not because he loves you. You thought that maybe after some time had passed, what happened that night would just be a distant memory between two friends who had a momentary lapse of judgment.

You have to let him go because it’s the right thing to do, the only way to save the friendship you built over the years. You once saved it, you cannot mess up again. It was selfish, yet so selfless.

When you finally calmed down a little bit more and your breathing slowed, Jungkook loosened his grip. You immediately felt the distance once more, but it was as if Jungkook heard your thoughts because he only pulled away to wipe your tears with his thumbs. Jungkook’s hands cupped your face for a while longer, staring into your teary eyes. Jungkook mumbled an apology as he pressed his forehead with yours. As he closed his eyes, you received a glimpse of Jungkook’s sadness without words.

Loving Jungkook isn’t supposed to be painful.

Jungkook had to meet a new client so that meant he needed to leave the apartment. You could tell it was difficult for him to leave you all alone in the apartment, but Jungkook only asked if you were going to be okay.

You struggled to leave home that day, but you had to because if you didn’t get out and teach dance, you would continue to drown in your own suffering. You both left the apartment with nothing but your unspoken words and broken hearts.

Jungkook would find himself running late for his meeting and he arrived home to what he thought was a dark, empty apartment. Trodding down the hall to your room, he was mildly surprised to see the door was slightly ajar. Lying on the bed was you. Sleeping.

Jungkook quietly entered the room and knelt down by the side of the bed. Staring at you, with the moonlight shining down on your face, you looked serene— a stark contrast to the chaos that transpired earlier that day. Your lips were slightly parted and Jungkook found himself smiling at the sight. He gently ran his knuckles down your cheek. He did that for a while, just intentionally watching and helping you sleep even more peacefully in the gentlest way. Jungkook was thankful that you didn’t seem to be aware that you weren't alone.

You kept your eyes closed as you reveled in the softness of Jungkook’s touch. You initially thought you were dreaming of Jungkook kneeling beside you because after all, the sleep gummies seemed to knock you out enough to fall asleep without him this time. But you realized it wasn’t a dream.

Jungkook came home.

The ache in your heart returned, but at the same time, you wished this moment of Jungkook comforting you never ended. Because at least you could have Jungkook like this.

“Will you stay still, ____? I’m not done yet.”

You pouted as you watched Jungkook draw a bowl of ramen on your leg cast. You injured yourself while attempting to do a tourner for an after-school ballet class. You and Jungkook were now in university and renting an apartment together. Your leg rested on Jungkook’s lap while you both sat on the living room couch. Jungkook slightly had his tongue out while he colored in the ribbons and you scoffed.

“Are you done now?”

“You don’t rush art.”

“Yeah but I’m hungry and I think my leg is asleep.”

Jungkook smirked, “Your leg being in a cast doesn’t really have a choice given the circumstances, what did you expect?” You smacked him with a pillow, “You asshole, give me my leg back.”

“Ow! Nuh uh. I’m almost done.”

You huffed, feigning annoyance. But you were actually endeared with Jungkook’s enthusiasm to draw a different object on your leg cast every week. The moment you got out of the hospital and after Jungkook fed you some jjampong, he carried you to the same living room couch and drew the yellow umbrella he used the day you bought hotteok. The following week, it was a sketch of a person dancing ballet which Jungkook referred to as, “the loveliest ballet dancer in the universe.” This week, it was ballet shoes hanging on one side of the backrest of a chair.

“There, done!” Jungkook slightly pulled away to admire his work then he turned and gave you his dorkiest smile. You could never ask for more.

Weeks passed as you and Jungkook fell into usual routine. You can no longer recall since when you started having a hard time communicating feelings. It wasn’t like you and Jungkook fought a lot because you almost never do. But there’s always that elephant in the room that neither of you choose to address even though it’s already staring back at you both.

On Jungkook’s birthday, Taehyung decided it would be good for you all to spend your time at a club after having dinner. From the get-go, the people in attendance were the birthday boy, Taehyung, Yoongi, you, and Mia.

Needless to say, you were awkward and in pain the entire time.

It was your first time to actually see Jungkook pay attention to someone else in a romantic way. Although he and Mia have yet to put a label on anything, they continued to date, much to your misery.

At the birthday dinner, you tried your best not to look at Jungkook and Mia the whole time, but by some strange magnetic force, everytime you unconsciously looked at Jungkook, his eyes found you.

Come to think of it, Mia was the clingy one the whole night. But maybe you were just misinterpreting things. When Taehyung suggested they go to a club, you internally groaned. Not only was this a repeat performance of what you did wrong a year ago, but it was also like salt being rubbed on a wound that never completely healed well.

“Fuck it, let’s get wasted,” you thought. You weren’t about to let your misery ruin a fun night.

So much for that, though. You couldn’t even pay attention to your drink because Mia was already trying to get too close to Jungkook. The whole time, Jungkook’s expressions were unreadable. One of his many stupid traits, you sarcastically thought.

You don't know exactly what happened after— Jungkook went to the bar to order more drinks for the table, followed not too long by Mia. She was relentless in flirting with Jungkook who seemed stoic and indifferent and awkward. Mia must have been really bad at reading people. Still, she didn’t give up that easily because she dragged Jungkook to the middle of the dance floor and tried to get him to dance.

Maybe you just wanted to see what you wanted to, but if you really were in the right frame of mind, you swore you saw Jungkook finally give in and dance with her.

Jungkook was having fun with someone else on his birthday. This is what he deserves— to be happy and free. Jungkook doesn’t have to sacrifice his time just to help you sleep every night.

You felt like you were about to throw up. The room started spinning and suddenly all you could hear were muffled sounds of the music bass. Before you knew it, you were making your way to the exit. You needed to get out. You faintly heard Taehyung calling out to you, asking what was wrong but the tightness in your chest demanded much of your attention.

When you reached the exit, you pushed the door all the way with all your might and started to walk. You were relieved for once that you weren’t able to drink a drop because you needed a clear head to get home safely. The club was a short distance from the apartment and all you wanted to do was lie in bed and cry yourself to sleep.

It has been weeks. Weeks of skirting around Jungkook, acting like nothing was amiss. It worked for a while, but you knew it would backfire eventually.

You didn’t think this plan of ignoring feelings would fail you so soon. You thought you were stronger.

Your hands were shaking so badly that you struggled to enter the correct passcode to the door: 090197.

You cursed at the irony.

Not bothering to turn on the lights, you stumbled in the dark and took off your heels. You went straight to your room and collapsed on the bed. You let the tears stain his pillow. This isn’t new to you now— crying. It somehow helped you sleep, anyway. Right now, you don't care if you cried your eyes raw. You were hurt, in pain, and you didn’t know what to do.

Nights felt like an eternity for an insomniac like you. Your thoughts were your biggest enemy in the dead of night and most of the time you are powerless to control them. You shouldn’t have allowed Jungkook to help you in the first place. Otherwise, you wouldn’t find yourself in this predicament. You’ve already kept your distance before, why did you fail again now? You should’ve known your place, the order in this world. You were Jungkook’s best friend, and you decided that for the both of you that day you told him you were sorry.

Ruminating thoughts can be a bitch because it makes you oblivious to your surroundings in real time.

You suddenly felt the other side of the bed dip. You heard sheets rustle and felt a different kind of warmth-- the kind that only your best friend could give.

Jungkook wrapped his arms around you and breathed in your scent. In the silence of your room, Jungkook, once again, came home to you.

Both of you didn’t speak for a long while, just listening to each other’s rhythm. You felt your bottom lip quiver— you were on the verge of crying again and as you started to sit up and perhaps leave, you felt Jungkook tighten his grip as he clasped his fingers together, securing you in place.

“Please don’t cry.”

You swallowed and tried to reply, but your voice cracked instead, “Why are you here, Jungkook?”

“I want to stay here with you.”

“It’s your birthday.”

“Yes, it is.”

“Then why?”

“Like I said, I want to stay here with you.”

Like wildfire, your heart swelled even when your brain told you not to fall for Jungkook’s words. That you were only reading too much into things, “What about—”

“I told them I wanted to go home because you already did. I turned around to look for you because I heard the barista said there were french fries, but you weren’t at the table anymore.”

Tears started to stream down your face and you were grateful you weren't facing Jungkook.

“I hate being the reason why you always cry, ____. I have done absolutely nothing to make things better for you and I keep making you feel sad.” Jungkook’s voice was laced with tight emotion and it was something you were hearing for the first time. Jungkook buried himself deeper in the crook of your neck.

“It hurts so much, Jungkook.”

Lifting his head, Jungkook moved in closer to whisper in your ear, “I know. I know. I’m so sorry.”

You breathed a deep sigh as you willed away the tears. Right on cue, Jungkook gently turned your body to face him. “That’s better,” Jungkook gently smiled, pushing strands of hair away from your face.

With Jungkook’s right arm under your head and his left engulfing you in an embrace, you curled into Jungkook’s chest. No matter what pain you may be feeling, it all dissipates once you’re with Jungkook.

“I am so sorry, ____. I’m sorry I keep running away.”

You let a small smile take over his lips, “No, Jungkook. You don’t have to apologize. All of this is my fault”

“It’s not… it’s not your fault. It’s mine,” you saw Jungkook swallow. You looked over Jungkook’s shoulder, at the clock situated on top of the side table. Thirty minutes left until Jungkook's birthday ends.

“It’s still your birthday. You shouldn’t be spending it apologizing for something you didn’t do.”

“I am enjoying my birthday because I haven’t lost you yet. And it is my fault, stop fighting me.” Jungkook smiled. “Have I ever told you how beautiful you are? Especially under moonlit skies.”

“I don’t think so. Not yet.”

“Then allow me to tell you now. You’re beautiful. The most beautiful person inside out and I am so lucky to have you. Thank you for not leaving me.”

You scooted closer to Jungkook, trying to fill in all the spaces in between.

It was almost a whisper and you almost didn’t hear it, “Sleep well my silly, beautiful darling,” your eyes flutter close as you felt Jungkook give you a kiss on your temple— a reassuring one, this time.

“Hey.”

You jumped at the sound of Jungkook’s unusually low voice. “Shit,” you mumbled, earning a pretty smile from Jungkook. “How long have you been standing there?”

The smile didn’t leave Jungkook’s face as he apologized and said with all honesty, “A while.”

You have been spending more late nights in the studio since you and Taehyung started offering additional classes. You held a beginner’s ballet class for children after school hours and you felt you had to spend more time thinking about their routines. Kids need structure, lest their attention becomes too difficult to get a hold of. Jungkook, being the sweetest, always stayed up to wait for you to get home and eat dinner together.

This time around, Jungkook decided to pick you up from the studio.

You took in the sight of Jungkook who was leaning against the door frame, wearing a cream oversized sweater and white pants. Even in the dimly lit room, Jungkook’s handsome face was radiant.

Seeing him feels like coming home.

Jungkook walked up to you with his hands in his pockets, “I always get caught up in your world whenever I watch you dance. That hasn’t changed.” He was suddenly standing so close to you that you had to clear his throat. Yet you didn’t pull away, either.

“Time passes when that world is not working in my favor,” you said as you rolled your shoulders backward.

“Is this the ballet class for the kids?”

You hummed in response, “One would think it’s easy enough to make a routine for little kids when really, going back to basics sometimes is the hardest thing.”

“What did you use to tell me?” Jungkook asked warmly, all innocence and love, but you recognized that tone of his.

“Jungkook—”

“Help me remember, ____. How did we do it back then? When we couldn’t figure out a new routine,” you heard the heels of Jungkook’s white chelsea boots clatter against the wooden floor as he stepped away a bit from you.

You were taken back to your days in the dance club with Jungkook, the two of you in a smaller studio after school practicing for competitions. You and Jungkook were the group’s best dancers and that also meant you were almost always tasked to come up with new choreography. You recalled how you and Jungkook used to practice no matter how long it took.

Right now, at this very moment, as Jungkook gently urges you to remind you of those days, you appreciated what he was trying to do.

“I’d always tell you, ‘I’m tired, I don’t want to do this anymore,’”

“Hm, and how did I respond?” Jungkook’s eyes never left your face and his voice was so low, that it sent shivers up your spine.

“You’d tell me we didn’t have to do the things other people ask us to dance… not right now.” you breathed as Jungkook’s face inched closer to yours, so close that you could already hear Jungkook’s heartbeat.

“And then?”

“We’d dance. For ourselves, together.”

Just as the words escaped your lips, Jungkook slightly pulled away to take his phone out of his pocket, scroll through a playlist, the very same playlist Jungkook uses whenever you both lounge around on a Sunday morning. He found the song he was looking for and pressed play.

Jungkook put his phone back in his pocket and whispered, “We dance. For ourselves, together.” He wrapped an arm around your waist while his other hand trailed down to hold your own, intertwining both sets of fingers. Falling, you easily melted into Jungkook, your worries about the ballet routines already forgotten.

With bodies pressed close, you felt your heart plummet to a deep dive into your stomach, leaving butterflies as it burst into a million pretty pieces. Jungkook was never one for sweet words, always choosing to convey his thoughts and feelings through his art. He had given you plenty of his work over the years, drawn on crumpled tissue papers or on the back of receipts. Always in all honesty quietly telling you he was there for you no matter what.

And through dance, he was the same— loving, thoughtful, yours.

“It has been a while since you last danced, right?”

Jungkook leans his forehead into yours, his eyes focused on the floor. He hums his response as he starts to lead the dance.

“It has been a while since I last danced with you,” Jungkook whispered. “Dance with me so I remember, my love.”

You close your eyes, resting your chin on Jungkook’s shoulder, “Remember what, Jungkook?”

“Help me remember everything good about you and me.”

And although Jungkook couldn’t see it, you smile as you tilt your head to the side. You let Jungkook lead the both of you to the melody of the music for a good few minutes until you fell into a slow, swaying rhythm.

“I missed dancing with you like this,” you swore you felt Jungkook tighten his hold around your middle a little bit more. Jungkook dropped a kiss to your bare shoulder and said with all reverence, “I miss you, ____.”

He misses you, not missed. You never wanted to let him go.

You didn’t want to stop touching Jungkook so as you continued to allow your feet to be led by him, you ran a trail using your hand from Jungkook’s shoulders, landing on his chest. Jungkook ran his own hand at the expanse of your back, waiting, waiting.

“And I miss you too,” you said with a smile. Jungkook cupped your face and ran a thumb to your cheekbone. Never leaving your eyes, he responded, “It’s always a pleasure to dance with you, ____.”

“I always seem more eager to dance when I’m with you,” you said.

And I always love dancing with you.

“That’s because we know each other’s moves well. We’re in sync no matter how long it’s been.”

Tentatively, you respond, “Maybe we should do it again… more often, this time.”

“I wouldn’t mind that at all. I’ll dance with you forever.”

You and Jungkook went home that night and slept once more in each other’s arms. You noticed a change this time. You felt peaceful, more hopeful. Jungkook didn’t say anything definitive, still, but maybe his heart did.

And you fell into a quiet sleep as soon as Jungkook kissed your temple. This time, his kiss was more intentional, more heartfelt, like he never wants to let you go.

Not again.

You woke up the next morning still reeling from the dance you shared with Jungkook. Always the romantic, you thought as you shook your head. Usually, Jungkook was already up and about before you even opened one eye, but life continues to surprise you.

Jungkook was sitting on the bed, drawing on his iPad. You couldn’t believe it at first— you rubbed sleep out of your eyes and looked at your own phone for the time. It was 8 o’clock and Jungkook was drawing.

The minute you moved, Jungkook was attentive. He stopped drawing as he turned to you to mumble a good morning.

“Good morning to you, too. What are you doing so early in the morning?”

“Oh, I woke up earlier—”

Cutting him off, you teased, “You always do.”

Jungkook chuckled, the crinkles in around his eyes so evident, so endearing, “Yeah. Um… I just— the morning light through the window was just so beautiful and I had to draw it.”

“You drew a sunrise at 8 o’clock?”

You rolled your eyes as Jungkook said matter-of-factly, “Actually, 6 o’clock… but no, I didn’t draw the sunrise, not exactly.”

“Then what did you draw?”

Instead of responding, Jungkook gave you his iPad. You realized Jungkook drew you. Jungkook used digital watercolor brushes to paint a picture of you sleeping with your bedroom window behind you. Sunlight accentuated the side of your face, expression tranquil.

“It’s not finished yet, I need to fill in some of the—“

“It’s beautiful, Jungkook.”

“You always say that, ____.”

“Because your works are beautiful. Every single one of them,” you couldn’t stop admiring Jungkook’s work. You felt your throat constrict once more, emotions starting to take over. This isn’t the first time Jungkook drew you, but it’s definitely the first time you felt something different after seeing his art— a love that continues to blossom, a love for Jungkook that never withered. For the past few weeks, you felt like you were slowly coming to terms with you and him being just best friends, but after last night, you were starting to backslide.

You will always love Jungkook no matter what— you know that now. Maybe not in the way you want, but Jungkook will continue to have a special hold on your heart that no one else can replace.

“Thank you for this, Gguk-ah. Can we print and frame this? When you’re done, that is.”

“Of course, ____. I’m glad you like it.”

One of the things you and Jungkook appreciate about the apartment is the silence because it’s never an awkward one. In silence, you’re both comfortable— awkward and pain and everything else in between. In the shared space, you and Jungkook are free to love one another.

In silence, you also hear each other’s hunger. You giggled as Jungkook turned beet red. After all these years of living together, Jungkook still tended to be embarrassed around you. One of the many adorable Jeon Jungkook traits that you love.

“That’s my cue to make breakfast.”

You stood up and ran a hand through your hair before pocketing your phone. Jungkook didn’t move an inch. You didn’t think much of it, but just as you were about to walk out the door, Jungkook called out to you and scrambled to his feet.

Mornings with Jungkook more often than not are calm, but when you saw Jungkook walk up the short distance to where you were standing, his gaze so strong, your heart began to race. Because you were standing too close to each other, you felt Jungkook take a deep breath before uttering the words you never thought you’d hear from him.

“Don’t leave me.”

At first, you thought you heard wrong. A few seconds later your brain told you that maybe it was Jungkook’s way of saying that he wanted you both to stay in bed a little while longer because after all, it was a Sunday.

But then a third thought came to you, the most dreaded one— what if?

“S-say that again.”

It was physically impossible for Jungkook to get even closer to you. The wide smile drawn on his face made all the difference.

“Don’t leave me.”

Like a bucket of cold water doused on you, you couldn’t believe what Jungkook was really trying to tell you. Your childhood best friend, the man of your dreams. The one person who will move mountains for you without being asked is trying to tell you something you longed to hear.

“Say that again… o-one more time.”

Tears threatened to flow from your sparkling eyes and Jungkook was quick to hold you small face in his hands, “____. Please… don’t ever leave me.”

You struggled not to cry so much upon finally understanding what Jungkook was really trying to say. You wanted to respond to Jungkook’s plea, but all that came out was a sob. Jungkook peppered your face with soft kisses down to your jaw. You found yourself holding on to Jungkook, grip like a vice. You don't want to let him go. You will never.

Not again.

You tried your best to properly respond this time, “Don’t worry, Gguk. I will never, ever leave you.” You ran your knuckles down Jungkook’s face, “I was just going to make us breakfast because you’re hungry.”

Jungkook laughed at how you could still manage to make an intimate moment so endearing. He held your wrist and kissed the palm of your hand before leaning in to finally kiss you full on your lips. His kiss was tentative at first until he decided to be bolder, silently asking you to let him in. You readily gave Jungkook access to kiss you even deeper. Like wildfire, heat spreads throughout your body— this is what it feels like to kiss Jungkook without reservation. This is what it feels like to kiss your best friend, no holds barred.

Overwhelmed with affection, you felt yourself being lifted by Jungkook and your legs automatically cling to his waist. The position gave him an even better angle to kiss the person he has longed for almost all his life, “How long, Jungkook? How long have you really liked me?”

You didn’t think Jungkook would immediately understand what you were trying to ask, “Since that day I asked you to dance with me under the rain.”

Jungkook saw the look of recognition in your eyes. He knew you knew what he was referring to. “I have always been in love with you, ____. I just… I was so scared of you rejecting me that I thought it was best if I kept my feelings to myself. I tried dating other people because I thought maybe that would help me get to know others better.”

And as if Jungkook could read your mind, he kissed your forehead before talking again.

“I don’t regret kissing you that night… I was drunk, but I was sober enough to know and remember what I said. We broke up because she told me I was always distracted. I always thought of you everywhere we went. She told me I never really moved on… that I still call out your name even when I was with someone else. When you told me no then, I knew it was my fault for not thinking things through. It was my mistake that I didn’t communicate with you better, ____. I’m sorry.”

You didn’t have a lot of words to respond with, not after that speech from Jungkook so you only asked ever so meekly, “And Mia?”

“I told her we were better off as friends. She took it quite well than I expected. I think deep down, she knew too.”

“Knew what?”

“That I was undeniably, irrevocably in love with you.”

“Do you really have to use big adjectives?”

Jungkook shrugged and chuckled, “Makes for good conversation. I’m trying to communicate better, remember?”

It was your turn to chuckle and lean your forehead against his.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to get here, ____. I put you through so much pain and I just let it happen.”

You shook your head, wanting to let Jungkook know this wasn’t all on him.

“If anything, you have always made me so happy, Jungkook. I don’t get to show you how much all the time.”

“Can we start over?” Jungkook looked at you, full of hope.

“I would love that.”

“I love you, ____.”

My best friend in this entire world, whom I love.

“I love you, too, Jungkook.”

My best friend in this entire world, who loves me back.

Your hotteok was already paid for by Jungkook before you even had the chance to pay for it yourself. “It’s all taken care of,” Jungkook said.

Both of you were already hungry from running so you decided to eat right there under the hotteok stand. You could see a black car parked across the street and assumed that it must be Mr. Hong-sik. You both ate in silence for a while, listening to the pitter-patter of the rain until you felt Jungkook tugging your sleeve.

“What’s wrong?”

“Come on, ____”

“Where are we going?”

“There!”

You looked to where Jungkook was pointing with his finger. There was nothing there but the school.

“You want to go back to where we came from?”

“Not really. School is boring,” Jungkook mused and before you knew it, you were being pulled in the middle of pouring rain.

“What are you doing, Jungkook? We are going to get wet!”

“We already are, ____! Come on!”

You both had to shout over the steady noise of the rain. You realized Jungkook wasn’t kidding— he was really under the rain, in the middle of the school’s wide, open space, waiting for you to join him.

“You are insane, Jeon Jungkook!” you shouted, but he just grinned that much harder. He took both your hands and led you to jump and dance in the rain.

“Maybe I am, but it’s fun to dance in the rain with someone else!”

You felt so glad to be living the same time with someone as Jungkook after that day.

The day you will forever be grateful for.

#jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook imagine #jungkook scenarios #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #bts jungkook #bts au #mwillow: perhaps love #bts fanfiction

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deepouterspacecandy · 12 days

Text

Next of Kin

The pregnant reader requests are so sweet, I swear I'm not ignoring them. All of your messages and requests have been great and they mean a lot to me. I'm under the weather right now so I apologize big time for the slow updates and responses. I hope this drabble scratches the itch until I'm back. 18+ only.

What if Abby's girlfriend is the pregnant one in TLOU2?

Oh, there will be no more running from the infected or putting yourself in harm’s way. This comes to an end immediately.

She’ll be reluctant to let you lift anything, even when it’s safe to do so and even when you’re capable. Abby knows it drives you nuts, and it’s the one thing she doesn’t compromise on.

However, not all her doting bothers you.

Your heart swells with tenderness for Abby as she reaches out to grasp your elbow while you climb the stairs and drops to her knees to tie your shoes when bending becomes more challenging. Her duty is to make sure you get the nutrients you require, and she tirelessly hunts for any pregnancy related books she can find.

When Manny tells her that orgasms can trigger labour, she blushes furiously and groans at him to knock it off.

“It’s not like that,” she mumbles.

It is like that. Abby is deeply in love with you.

I don’t think she takes you back to the Stadium, though. I imagine she quietly settles beside you, observing your peaceful slumber, while wrestling with the weight of her actions as the renowned Scar hunter. Memories of her dad resurfacing to remind her of the dreams and aspirations he held for her. As she defects from the WLF, a small crew of soldiers joins her, eager to fight for a new cause.

In the beginning, she might feel too self-conscious to sing to your belly, but once your baby bump becomes more noticeable, she will seize any opportunity to touch and connect with you, as long as you are comfortable with it.

She is hell bent on finding a community with a medical team.

I see Abby as the girl who is by your side for every ultrasound.

The moment she experiences the baby kick, her eyes meet yours in disbelief, as if she’s overwhelmed by the extraordinary gift bestowed upon her by the world. When she lays eyes on the growing life inside you, her role as your protector becomes an eternal vow.

It’s not often that she cries, but if she misses an appointment because her assignments run late or there is an unexpected problem, it would be one of those few occasions. Trying to hide her emotions from her squad, she will steal a glance at her watch and clench her teeth, struggling to keep her lip from quivering.

The next time she cries will be the night your son is born, and she cradles him in her arms for the first time.

Abby surprises you by building a crib with her own two hands, meticulously sanding, and staining the wood. The day she finally confesses her love out loud, you can’t help but notice the pine chips tangled in her hair and the dust that coats her threadbare shirt.

“You’re a mess,” you say, brushing the remnants of her project from her shoulders and watching the particles float gently to the carpet. “I can’t believe you did this for us. It’s beautiful, Abby.”

“I want to be a part of this,” she says, breath catching in her throat as she lifts your hands to her chest. “I want to be yours.”

“You already are,” you murmur.

Although the labour theory that Manny suggested scared her to death, the minute she notices your libido is returning in full force, she goes all in, making the subsequent sexual experience fun and romantic.

She finds beauty in the soft curves and stretch marks that adorn your body, especially when you cannot see it yourself.

Is she a little obsessed with the way you looked during pregnancy? I don’t know, you’ll have to ask her, but she sure as shit adores your body as it is now.

Below the surface, Abigail Anderson may be gentle-natured, but nobody fucks with her son and wife.

#abby the last of us #abby tlou #abby x fem!reader #abby x reader #abby x you #tlou abby #lesbian #abby anderson

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somekindofpoet · 1 year

Text

La Petite Mort - T'en Va Pas

Summary: Reader works until she's numb enough to clock out, Lorraine brings her back around

Word Count: 4.1K

Warnings: +18 NSFW, smut, language

A/N: Thank you @deep-fried-egg for keeping my French straight, you a real one for that. Let me know what you guys want to see next!

LPM Part I LPM Part II LPM Part III LPM Part V LPM Part VI

The sound of gentle snuffling rouses you from your sleep, the early morning sun breaking the horizon creeping into the clearing. You crack your eyes open, and you wake with laughter on your lips as you see CB looking down at you, his mouth rustling over your chest, looking for treats. You push his nose away, pulling a jolly rancher from your pocket, unwrapping it, and giving it to him. Satisfied with your offering, he shuffles off.

As soon as he’s out of your line of sight, you remember why you’re sleeping in the grass under the open sky. Your sleepy laughter is replaced by a dull ache in your chest, your stomach sinking. Lorraine hadn’t spent the night with you. Your last conversation with her constricts your body, and all you want is for the feeling to go away.

You sit up, your back damp from the grass you’d slept in. You never moved back onto your sleeping bag after Lorraine vacated it, unable to bear the possibility of her smell lingering there. You sigh, scratch your head, try to enjoy the morning view of the pond.

A thin fog rolls over the water, breaking up as it floats to the bank. Dew clings to the grass and strands of your hair. The air is fresh, crisp, and clean with the start of a new day. The remnants of your fire smoldered under a layer of ash, the smell of burning wood soaking into any fabric it could reach. With the cicadas singing in the trees, you can tell the day is going to be gorgeous. You close your eyes and take a deep breath, stretching your arms over your head. When you open them, the scenery is just as peaceful, but it’s at odds with the feeling in your chest.

Keeping yourself painfully busy would be the only way to avoid the emotions threatening to overwhelm you. The Days were leaving for a trip to see family out west, so you’d have the ranch to yourself for a few days. You plan to work until your hands bleed or until you don’t feel sick to your stomach.

With that in mind, you crawl over to your sleeping bag, pull on your boots and haul yourself to your feet. Kick dirt onto the hot coals, smothering it. You put your fingers to your lips and whistle, calling CB to you as you pick up his saddle blanket. He trots over, shaking his body out when he sees the blanket, knowing he’s going to work. You scratch his head and kiss the velvet patch on his nose.

“You’re the best, buddy. Let’s get some work done, hey?”

He drops his head and pushes gently into your chest. You hug him, closing your eyes and breathing in the sweet smell of alfalfa in his hair. You’re grateful for his company; even when you’re spiraling into melancholy, he provides you some comfort.

CB was gifted to you by the Days, back when your father worked for them. You were ten, and seeing the tiny foal in the barn for the first time is one of your most cherished memories.

“What’re you gonna call ‘im?” Mr. Day had asked you, a loving smile under his dark mustache.

Your eyes had gone so wide you were surprised they didn’t fall out of your head.

“I get to name him?!”

He laughed, his hand on your shoulder, “You get to name him, and you get to take care of him. For his whole life. He’s yours.”

Your father had swelled with pride, grinning ear to ear behind you. Lorraine had bustled in, not wanting to miss playing with the newest addition to her family ranch, her excitement for you sweet and reserved.

You looked to her for advice, “What should I call him?”

Her tiny face lit up, thrilled to be included in the process, “You should call him. Hmm,” she tapped her chin, taking her task very seriously, “Oh, I know! Call him his favorite food!”

Your fathers chuckled in the background, content to let the two of you work through this naming without their assistance.

“Bacon!” You shouted, throwing your hands in the air.

Lorraine giggled, “Horses don’t like bacon, silly. They like carrots.”

You smiled, bashful at your outburst, “Bacon is my favorite food.”

“Why don’t you call him Carrot Bacon?” She suggested, very pleased with herself for the idea.

You nodded, excited to have come to a decision. You walked over to his pen, patted him on the nose.

“Carrot Bacon, you’re mine forever.”

——

You rode CB into the barn, pulling hay out of a stack to give him his breakfast. His water trough was already filled, Mr. Day must have done it before they left that morning. You leave your horse to eat and make your way out to your truck to change your clothes, grateful you’d had the foresight to pack.

When you get there, a note is stuck under your windshield wipers. It’s in Mrs. Day’s slanted cursive.

‘Y/n, we headed out early, didn’t want to bother your beauty rest. Thank you for watching the ranch while we’re out. Left you dinner in the fridge. Coffee is fresh in the pot. Don’t work yourself too hard.’

The note makes you smile wistfully. They knew you too well. You glance up at the house, knowing you’d be camping in the clearing while they were gone. You liked their house well enough, but everything would remind you of the person you were desperately trying not to think of.

Despite that notion, you do brave the kitchen for a mug of coffee. You take it outside, sit in the deck chair and enjoy it, allowing the morning to pass in the lazy, peaceful ways mornings do. When the coffee is gone and the sun has burned through the mist and dew, you return to the barn to retrieve CB.

On the ride out to the back pasture, you kick him into a gallop, running him hard away from the barn. Your horse was not barn sour. Who you were trying to prove that to was lost on you, but you did it anyway. You enjoyed the adrenaline, the wind rushing past your face, letting CB take his head and open up his full gait. You make it to the pasture in record time, slowing him to a trot as you near the broken fences.

You slide off his back and pull your tools from the saddle bag, ready to immerse yourself in manual labor. The sun burns at its full strength, high in the sky, beating down on you as you work. You lose yourself in it, focused on the task at hand. It’s tranquil, even if it’s exhausting. You’d rather put your body through the wringer than let your mind wander.

Hours pass, but they’re lost on you. Your shirt is soaked through with sweat, your water supply running low. You persevere, hell-bent on finishing the job and avoiding yourself for as long as possible. When you do finally tie off the last post, the sun has set into the horizon, the last rays of light trickling out.

You sigh, sink down to the dirt with the post at your back. You’re so tired you can’t even think about anything other than water and sleep. Mission accomplished in more ways than one. CB approaches you, curious as to why he hasn’t been fed his dinner yet. You nod at him, pulling yourself up.

“Yeah, you’re right, bud. Let’s go back to the house.”

You drag yourself into your saddle, slumping over on his neck. He starts the journey back to where he knows he gets to rest, his steps a little faster than usual. You roll your eyes at him and sit up, letting him trot. Maybe he’s a little barn sour.

By the time the house is in view, CB is hurrying along, and you allow it because you think you might be dying of thirst. Before you can go inside, you take care of him. Hosing him down and brushing him, then feeding him his dinner in his stall. You’re unsure of the time, but the moon is out, lighting the ranch in a silver glow. There’s no way you’re camping out tonight, avoiding your thoughts be damned.

You nearly fall into the kitchen, kicking your boots off at the door. You don’t bother with the lights as you turn the sink on as cold as it will go and drink from the tap. You stick your head under the water, letting it run over your hair and down your neck. You’re making a mess, but you’ll clean it up before the Days get back. Right now, you just need water.

A soft shuffling sound behind you catches your attention, and a quiet, sleep-heavy voice, “Y/n?”

You switch the tap off and turn slowly. Lorraine is in the doorway, bleary-eyed in a small nightgown. You’re so tired, you almost convince yourself you’re dreaming.

“Come here.” She says, softly.

Still not convinced you’re awake, you make your way to her, your feet heavy and slow. Follow her to her bedroom, close the door. She reaches for you, her hands gentle and unhurried. She pulls your shirt over your head, follows with the rest of your clothes, until you’re stark naked, in a daze. She slips out of her nightgown, and your heart skips a beat. You missed her.

The sheer immensity of the feeling pushes aside any reservation you might have about being with her. RJ is nowhere near close to the front of your mind. Not when she pulls you down to kiss her for the first time in two days, not when your hands find their way home over her ribs, or when she pulls you into her bed. You missed her so much.

Had you been less tired, more aware, the thought may have frightened you. That you could miss her this much when she was right in front of you. But now, with her under your body, all you can feel is relief. She quenches your thirst better than water, oxygen is richer in her presence, even the moonlight shines brighter through her bedroom window.

She kisses you leisurely, her lips on yours calming you and comforting you. Her hands wander, deliberately feeling every piece of your body while you sink into her.

“I’m all yours,” she whispers when she pulls her lips from yours, and you’re completely lost in her.

You don’t even think to question her, don’t bother to argue that she was not, in fact, all yours. But in the moment, she is. And you can’t help yourself but venerate her. Your body is still heavy, sluggish, but the more primal parts of you are wide awake now. You lick at her neck, press your lips to her skin, inch your way down to her chest. Kiss her sternum, your hands covering her breasts and squeezing tenderly.

The soft whimper that leaves her lips drives you further down her body, your destination clear. As much as you want to dive into her, you take your time to cherish every single inch of her, kissing each rib on her left side as you descend. You can’t decide at this point if you’re doing this for her, or for yourself. Committing every freckle, every scar, every mark on her to your memory. In case you never get to kiss them again.

It’s somber and sweet, the dichotomy of your feelings for this moment. You brush the weight of your heart aside, kissing her thighs instead. She opens her legs further without question, giving you space to settle in. You slide your arms under her thighs, wrap your hands around her hips, press a kiss to the inside of her knee.

Her hand pushes your hair away from your eyes, she watches you with eager eyes. You give her what she wants. What you want. With your mouth on her, you completely forget your troubles. Any worry is gone from your mind when you dip your tongue inside of her, and she whines, her fingers tightening in your hair. Her body is familiar to you now. You know what she wants, what she likes, what will make her shake. Pleasing her is pleasing yourself, so you waste no more time.

You drag your tongue up to her clit, and she moans above you, her body responding immediately. You take it slow, not giving her immediate satisfaction, making her whimper and shift under your tongue. If this lasts for the rest of your life, it’ll end too soon. You wrap your lips around her, sucking gently, then alternate with your tongue in flat passes over her. She’s trying to be patient, you can tell, but her writhing and squirming tells you she’s nearly had enough.

You slide your hands up her body, and to your surprise, she takes one of them and interlaces your fingers together, squeezing. Your eyes travel up to hers, she’s desperate and needy, and you can’t hold out on her any longer. You suck harder, pick up your pace. She unravels around you, her thighs squeezing your ears, her fingers crushing yours. When she falls limp, her legs dropping to your sides, you crawl up her body, your fingers slipping between her legs as you kiss her nipple.

You push into her slowly, savoring how she feels, the smell of her, the taste. As you curl your fingers, you swirl your tongue around her nipple, and her nails dig into your shoulder. You relish in it, the stinging on your skin and her soft moaning, her breast in your mouth, your fingers working in her, wet and tight.

She’s pulling at you, breathing labored as you pick up your rhythm, and you greet her at her lips again, kissing her hungrily. Her hands are around your face, her tongue in your mouth, and she won’t let you go. You stay, kiss her with everything that’s in you, tell her how important she is to you, how you feel about her with your tongue on her teeth and your lips dancing with hers.

Her breathing picks up, and her body tightens, her hands leaving your face to hold you close to her. She pulls you to press your chest into hers, letting her feel more of your weight on her. She lets you leave her lips in favor of gasping, so you go back to her neck, sucking at that spot that gave her goosebumps. Her orgasm is short, breathy, and hard. She can’t move as much with your body on hers, so she grips your back instead, squeezing you as she cums.

She relaxes, and a sudden fear overcomes you that it’s done. The sense of finality makes you shake. You can’t be done. You push yourself up on your elbows and gaze down at her, trying not to let her see the fear in your eyes.

“Roll over,” you whisper, kissing her collarbone and sitting up to give her space to obey.

She tilts her head, her brows furrowed, but she trusts you, so she rolls. You leave one leg between hers and kiss the small of her back, making her shiver. She pushes up onto her elbows to look back at you, but you shake your head and move up to kiss her. You pull away and look into her eyes, reassuring her without words. She accepts, and your hand runs up the back of her thigh.

You dip your fingers between her legs again, blind but knowing where to go. You circle her clit as you start to leave kisses up her spine. You begin your exploration of her again, truly taking in all of her. This time you kiss every rib on her right side and every inch of her spine. She groans into the pillow as you leave her clit to push inside of her again, with more force than before.

Using the weight of your body, you thrust into her, moving your hips in tandem to push harder. What were once soft, sultry sighs turn into shameless moans, her fingers gripping the cotton sheets near her head. You brush her hair over her shoulder to kiss the back of her neck, over to her jaw, as she turns her head to meet you. You’re full tilt, rocking her body up with every thrust, and her mouth hangs open, not even trying to quiet herself.

She pushes herself up on one arm, turning to find you, and you kiss her hard, abandoning the tenderness from earlier, becoming desperate. She turns her head away from you, resting her forehead on her arm. You press a kiss to her shoulder, then to her back between her shoulder blades, and she’s hurtling off the edge. Pushing her hips back into you, one of her hands coming back to hold your hip, her other gripping the pillow. With one final push, she collapses, with you close behind.

She’s gasping, trying to catch her breath, her eyes closed. You press a kiss to her cheekbone and fall over on your back next to her. You know you’ll have to wait for her to come around, and it’ll take especially long after that. She reaches out for you, curling around you as she pants, clinging to your side. You run your nails gently along her back, closing your eyes as you wait for her to recover.

You’re very nearly asleep when she hums into your collarbone, “I’ve missed you.”

It jerks you awake, and you’re finally reminded of why you should have been apprehensive tonight. You shouldn’t be doing this. You know it, and it’s only clear now that your lust filled haze has settled. She can feel you tense under her and sighs, already knowing where your thoughts had gone.

“Can we just have this moment, right now, and not think about it?” She mumbles, her voice tight.

You sigh, rub your eyes, “I’ve missed you too.”

You can’t hide the sadness in your voice as you say it, and she nuzzles in further to you, squeezing your ribs. Your mind is made up in that moment. If you can’t have this, if this is the last time, you have to leave. You have to run for the hills and never look back, or you’ll be swallowed up by this smothering heartache.

You gulp, “Raine.”

“Mhm?”

“I’m leaving.”

She squeezes you tighter, “Not tonight, okay?”

Your turn and kiss the top of her head, leaving your nose in her hair, your eyes closed tight. She doesn’t have to know. She’ll be okay.

——

You wake the next morning before sunrise and find the bed empty. Lorraine’s side is cold; she’s been gone for a while. You think maybe it’s for the best, you’ll pack CB up and start driving, and all of this will be like a fever dream.

You roll out of bed and pull on your clothes, trying to stay quiet in case she’s asleep in another room. Make your way through the house, pull on your boots in the kitchen. The water from the night before has dried, no mess for you to clean up. It seems fitting because the mess around you is nearly suffocating.

You make your way outside as the sun is beginning to rise and take a long look at the ranch. Why you ever wanted to leave before is lost on you, you loved it here. But now you have to leave, and the fact sits in your gut like a stone.

You climb into your truck and drive around to your trailer, turning off the engine and sliding out to make your way around to the hitch. Your hands fumble with a task that should have been easy, your fingers trembling as you lock the ball in place.

Inside the barn, you find CB’s tack and haul it to the trailer, loading it up before you come back for him. You frown when you get to his stall, finding it empty. You know you locked him up last night, so where was he?

You make your way outside, turning around the side of the barn, scratching your head. The cattle in the pasture lift their heads, watching you with bored eyes. As you round the back of the barn, you find him. He’s in the paddock, grazing with Pearl. Lorraine is sitting on the fence, watching them. Your heart clenches at the sight. You’ll have to say goodbye now.

Lorraine turns as you approach, her face peaceful. She smiles at you, but it doesn’t reach her eyes, and in that moment, you know she knows. She had understood what you meant.

“Thought he should get some exercise before you load him up,” she tells you, her voice shaky.

You close your eyes, take a deep breath, “Thank you.”

She nods and looks back out at the paddock, “You don’t have to leave.”

“I do.”

She turns back to you, chewing her lip, “You don’t.”

You press your fingers to your lips and whistle, calling CB to you as your answer. He lifts his head and finds you, trotting over to the gate. You skip a lead over his ears and open the gate, walking him away from the paddock.

Lorraine jumps off the fence and jogs to your side, “Where will you go?”

You shrug, trying your damndest not to look down at her. You hook the lead to the side of the trailer and brush past her, climbing inside to make sure everything is set for him. She hovers at the back, unsure of what to do, or what to say.

As you’re cinching down the saddle on its hook, you hear a car pull into the drive and turn back to Lorraine. She’s leaning around the side, trying to see who it is. You can see her knuckles turn white as she squeezes the trailer door, and you know who it must be. Her hand disappears as she walks toward the new arrival. You shake your head and finish the saddle. You can hear RJ’s voice outside, and your jaw clenches. So much for a clean break. Now you’ll be driving away with a sour taste in your mouth to accompany the heartbreak.

You climb out of the trailer, and what you find surprises you. Lorraine is shaking her head, and RJ’s hands are on his hips, irritation clear as day on his face.

“Let’s just go, I have to finish this film, and then we can do whatever you want. Get in the van.”

He catches sight of you, and you can see his jaw flex. He looks back to Lorraine, but her eyes followed his when he looked at you, and now she’s turned toward you. She takes a step in your direction, and you tilt your head, trying to work out what is going on in her mind.

“Lorraine,” RJ says, his voice low.

She turns back to him, and you nod, understanding now. You take CB’s lead and load him into the trailer, closing the gate behind him. When you come back around, she’s facing you again, standing halfway between you and RJ. Her lip is going to bleed if she keeps biting it. You want to tell her, but think better of it. She turns back to RJ. Takes a step. You start walking toward the truck door, and she turns to you.

“Come on, Raine, let’s go. Right now.”

She turns back to him, and you’re only a few feet from your door. You risk a glance at her, and she’s watching you. RJ is fuming behind her, his impatience getting the better of him. You shake your head and reach for the door handle, but her hand is on your arm. You turn and look down. Her eyes are wide, and her lip trembles.

RJ throws his hands up, “I have to go, Lorraine.”

You brush her hair behind her ear and nod, telling her it’s okay. She shakes her head no, leans up on her toes, and kisses you.

“Don’t go.”

#lorraine day #lpm #lorraine day x reader #jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x reader

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musicforastylesrestaurant · 10 months

Text

London Experiences.

masterlist || ask me anything <3

blurb masterlist is here.

authors note - don’t ask me why this idea randomly came into my head because even i don’t have a reason 🤷‍♀️

word count - 2.7k

in which, whilst walking around the streets of london with your fiancé harry and two year old daughter mila whose currently getting her molars growing in, things appear to be going swell until a fan asks for a photo and your little one has to be disturbed.

Having a day off between shows always meant that during that day you got to relax and have a chill day.

But that wasn’t possible when you had a two-year-old who couldn’t stay at home and cuddle on the sofa, no, she always had to do something, whether that was colouring, playing with her toys or acting cheeky towards you and her father.

A couple of nights ago, your two year old Mila had been showing signs of teething, which meant that her molars would soon be growing in, that meant sleepless nights would soon be flowing through your London townhouse.

And the first sleepless night took place last night although it wasn’t until early evening that she started feeling the growing pains.

It really picked up last night when Harry was on stage, and you were sitting in his dressing room, trying to soothe the painful cries of your little one.

You sit nervously in your fiancé dressing room at Wembley, the sound of his electrifying performance of Kiwi echoing faintly through the walls. The room is filled with the faint scent of excitement and the remnants of his cologne.

Mila, sits in your lap, tears streaming down her rosy cheeks. Her teething pains have taken hold, and no matter what you do, her cries seem to intensify.

You try to comfort her, rocking her gently and singing soft lullabies.

“Shhh, sweetheart, it's okay. Mama's here," you whisper, your voice filled with love and concern. But Mila's tiny face scrunches up even more, her cries reaching new heights. It breaks your heart to see her in such distress.

Mila's cries grow louder, and through her tears, she manages to utter a few words.

“Gums... hurt," she sniffles, her voice filled with pain.

Desperate to ease her discomfort, you remember the frozen teething toy you placed in the mini fridge earlier. You gently place Mila on the sofa, assuring her you'll be back in a moment. Rushing to the fridge, you retrieve the cold toy, hoping it will bring her some relief.

Returning to the sofa, you find Mila still crying, her big teary eyes searching for you. You quickly hand her the teething toy, the coldness soothing her tender gums. She clutches it tightly, her cries lessening slightly. You sigh with a mix of relief and exhaustion, sitting back down on the sofa, cradling your daughter in your arms.

Time seems to blur as Mila's cries persist. The adrenaline that propelled Harry through his performance gradually dissipates as he enters the dressing room, his face still flushed with the euphoria of the stage.

He freezes in his tracks when he sees the two of you, his brows furrowing in concern.

He strides over, his steps purposeful yet gentle.

"What's the matter, love?" he asks, his voice filled with worry. His presence alone brings a sense of calm, and Mila's watery eyes lock onto him. She stretches her tiny arms out towards him, her silent plea for comfort.

You smile weakly at Harry, grateful for his arrival. "She's been teething all night. Her gums are really bothering her," you explain, your voice filled with exhaustion and a touch of frustration.

Harry's gaze softens as he sits down next to you on the sofa. "Hey, little one," he coos, his voice like honey. Mila's tears slowly subside as she reaches for him, her tiny fingers grasping his sequin jacket. Harry adjusts his position, making room for her on his lap.

He takes the frozen teething toy from Mila's hands and examines it.

"Do your gums hurt, sweetheart?" he asks, his voice filled with concern.

Mila nods, her eyes still shimmering with tears. "Hurts," she mumbles, her voice small and vulnerable.

Harry's heart melts at her words, and he cradles her gently. "I know it hurts, darling. But Daddy's here now, and I'm going to make it better, okay?" he whispers, his voice filled with reassurance.

As Mila begins to suckle on the toy, her cries become intermittent, her pain slowly fading away. Harry continues to rock her back and forth, his soothing touch and loving presence bringing her the solace she craves.

"You're such a good dad, Harry," you say softly, your eyes welling up with tears of gratitude. "She always calms down when you're around."

A total daddy girl.

Whenever Mila was sick, she always seeked the comfort of her father, she always needed to be near him, as according to her two year old brain she gave the best cuddles and always requested to be with him and sometimes you could join in on the cuddle as well.

Harry's eyes meet yours, a-tender smile tugging at his lips.

“She knows I'll always be here for her, just like I'll always be here for you," he whispers, his voice filled with unwavering devotion.

You lean into Harry's side, feeling the weight of his love and support. The room falls into a comfortable silence as Mila snuggles against her father, finding solace in his presence.

After a while, Harry breaks the silence, his voice soft and filled with affection. "You're such a strong girl, m’l’angel. Daddy is so proud of you," he murmurs, gently stroking her hair.

Mila looks up at Harry, her eyes still watery but now filled with a glimmer of contentment. "Love dada," she says in her sweet, innocent voice.

Harry's heart swells with love as he replies, "I love you too, my little angel. Always and forever."

The teething hadn’t stopped there either.

All through the night you and Harry were up tending for her needs at your London townhouse, so much so that it got to around two in the morning and her pitiful sobs hadn’t eased so Harry scooped her up from her crib and brought her into your room and into the bed where the three of you snuggled up and tried to get as much sleep as you possibly could.

Gosh darn her teeth for letting her molars make an appearance.

It was a good thing that Harry didn’t have a show that evening because that means you didn’t have to do much during the day.

That was until Mila woke up from her slumber this morning and requested that she wanted to walk around London like you usually did when Harry had to be at Wembley early.

So here the three of you were, As you stroll hand in hand with your fiancé, down the enchanting streets of London, a sense of joy fills the air. The city pulses with energy, its rich history blending harmoniously with the vibrant present.

To cover up the bags that covered both your eyes and the ones of your lover, you both wore a pair of sunglasses, and the whole family wore a different coloured pleasing hoodie that Mila had chosen for you.

Whilst Harry wore a vibrant green, you had been told to wear a custom light blue hoodie, and then Mila chose for herself to wear a red one.

Harry cradles your two-year-old daughter in his arms, her tiny frame nestled against his chest as she peacefully slumbers. It was her idea to come on the walk, not that you and Harry were complaining because you liked going on family walks around the city you were in, and although London had been your home for the last few years you still got excited walking round its streets.

Her sleep had been far too affected last night for her to be able to stay awake during the day, so after your lunch in a small cage, she request Harry carry her and that was when her eyes closed and her soft breaths create a gentle rhythm, a sweet lullaby amidst the bustling sounds of the city.

You push the empty stroller along the cobblestone streets, its wheels gliding effortlessly over the pavement. The sun casts a warm glow, casting golden rays upon your path, illuminating the love that surrounds your little family.

"So, love, what do you think we should do for the rest of the day?" he asks, his voice laced with anticipation. "We've got this rare opportunity to explore, and I want to make the most of it."

You ponder for a moment, knowing that Harry's presence draws attention wherever he goes. “Well, how about we go for a wander? Maybe Mila will sleep a bit longer, and we can enjoy the city without interruptions."

Harry grins, his dimples deepening. "That sounds perfect. A leisurely stroll with you and our little snoozing beauty. Let's see where the day takes us.”

As you walk hand in hand, the warm sun envelops you both in a gentle embrace. You remark on the pleasant weather, how it seems to smile upon your special day together.

"Quite lucky with the weather today, aren't we?" you remark, casting a glance at Harry's attire—a casual hoodie that shields his iconic features.

You could tell that he was getting a bit sweaty due to the shine his nose currently inhabited.

He chuckles, running a hand through his unruly curls. "Ah, yes, the trusty hoodie. A necessary accessory for me when I want to go incognito."

You playfully nudge his side, a teasing smile on your lips. "Hiding from the paparazzi, are we? I guess it's the price of fame, huh?"

Harry grins, his green eyes twinkling. "Well, a little anonymity never hurt anyone. Plus, it lets me enjoy moments like this without attracting too much attention."

As you amble through the streets, you engage in light-hearted banter, pointing out interesting shops and admiring the architectural wonders of the city. Harry shares stories of past adventures and playful anecdotes from his career, his animated gestures drawing laughter from both of you.

From time to time, you steal glances at one another, your love for Harry growing with every step. The world around you seems to fade away, leaving just the two of you, hand in hand, exploring the hidden corners of London.

As you wander, the hours pass in a blissful haze. The bustling city feels like your own private haven, and your daughter continues to sleep soundly, undisturbed by the vibrant energy around her.

Harry leans in closer, his voice filled with contentment. "You know, love, days like these make me appreciate the beauty of simplicity. Just us, our daughter, and the world at our feet."

You nod, a soft smile gracing your lips. "Absolutely, Harry. It's these precious moments that remind us of what truly matters—love, family, and the joy of being together."

As you continue your leisurely walk through the bustling streets of London, a fan suddenly recognizes Harry and excitedly approaches the three of you.

You notice Harry's hesitance, knowing his desire to protect your daughter's privacy. Mila slumbers peacefully in his arms, unaware of the moment unfolding around her.

The fan's face lights up, a mix of joy and anticipation. "Harry, I'm such a huge fan! Could I please take a photo with you?"

There was always one.

Harry's gaze flickers to Mila, concern etched across his features. He glances at you, silently conveying his reservations. You understand his worry but also empathize with the fan's excitement.

Gently, you attempt to take Mila from Harry's arms, hoping to offer him the freedom to take the photo. However, as she wakes up and realizes she's no longer cradled against her father, she begins to cry, reaching out for him.

"Shh, sweetie," you whisper, your voice filled with reassurance. "Daddy just needs to take a quick photo, and then he'll be right back with us."

Mila's eyes well up with tears as she stretches her tiny arms back towards Harry. It breaks your heart to see her upset, but you know that sometimes, moments like these require compromise.

Harry's expression reflects his internal struggle. He wants to comfort Mila, to ensure her happiness, but he also understands the significance of connecting with his fans.

Kneeling down beside Mila, Harry gently brushes his fingers against her cheek. "It's okay, angel. Daddy will be right here. Just one quick photo, and then we'll be back together, I promise."

You take a deep breath, understanding the weight of the situation. "Mila, sweetheart, Daddy loves you so much. He wants to make everyone happy, just like he makes us happy. Can you be brave for a little while longer?"

Mila's cries begin to subside, and she looks at you with tear-filled eyes. Her small fingers reach out to touch Harry's face, as if seeking his reassurance. You exchange a glance with Harry, silently conveying the depth of your shared love and understanding.

With a hesitant nod, Harry turns back to the fan, who has been patiently waiting. A warm smile graces his lips as he poses for the photo, the fan beaming with delight. The moment is captured, a memory forever etched in their hearts.

As the fan thanks Harry and bids farewell, he returns to your side, scooping Mila back into his arms. She clings to him, her cries gradually fading away.

"You did so well, angel," Harry whispers, pressing a tender kiss to Mila's forehead. "I'm so proud of you."

You wrap your arm around Harry, offering support and comfort. The trio resumes their walk, Mila finding solace in the warmth of her father's embrace.

When the fan departes, you notice that Harry's usual radiant smile is somewhat subdued. His thoughts are consumed by Mila, his primary concern being her well-being. The encounter with the fan requesting a photo weighs heavily on his mind.

As fate would have it, the fan, oblivious to Harry's internal struggle, approaches once again, this time sheepishly asking if they can retake the photo. Excitement shines in their eyes, unaware of the impact their previous request had on Mila.

Harry's brows furrow slightly, his patience wearing thin. He takes a deep breath, his voice tinged with a hint of agitation. "I'm sorry, but I don't think we can take another photo. My daughter is still quite upset, and I don't really want to upset her again."

The fan's enthusiasm falters, a mix of disappointment and understanding crossing their face. They quickly apologised, realising the unintended consequences of their request.

You place a reassuring hand on Harry's arm, silently communicating your support. It's clear to you that his priority lies in protecting Mila's well-being, even if it means disappointing a fan.

Harry turns to the fan, his voice filled with sincerity. "I appreciate your understanding. It's just important for me to prioritise my daughter's comfort. Thank you for being considerate."

The fan, humbled by Harry's response, nods appreciatively. "Of course, I completely understand. Family always comes first. Thank you for taking the time to talk to me."

With a warm smile, Harry bids the fan farewell, his focus now fully directed towards Mila. As the fan walks away, you feel a mixture of relief and pride in Harry's unwavering commitment to his daughter's happiness.

As you continue your journey through the streets, the weight of the encounter gradually lifts, replaced by a renewed sense of peace. Harry's smile slowly returns, genuine and heartfelt, as he immerses himself in the joy of simply being together with you and Mila.

You intertwine your fingers with Harry's, offering him reassurance and gratitude for his unwavering dedication to your family. Together, you create an unbreakable bond, built on love, trust, and the unwavering protection of the precious moments you share.

As the day winds down and the sun begins to set, casting a warm glow across the city, you find yourselves seeking solace in a nearby park. Harry sits on a bench, Mila cradled in his arms, while you settle beside him.

Mila's teary eyes gradually dry, and she gazes up at her father, a sense of adoration and security radiating from her. Harry's attention is fully devoted to her, and a soft smile graces his lips as he brushes his thumb against her cheek.

In this tranquil moment, amidst the soft rustle of leaves and the distant hum of the city, you realise that the true measure of a father's love lies not in the number of photos taken or the adoration of fans, but in the quiet, intimate moments where he selflessly puts his child's happiness above all else. And in that realisation , your love for Harry deepens, knowing that he will always protect and cherish your family with unwavering devotion.

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