#i am not known to wrap my things in blankets to keep them safe from everything

[ghouljams]

I love witch darling and Price they have my whole heart (and Liebling and Konig bc I'm a sucker for straight pairings where the woman could say "heel" and the big scary guy would listen)

I just love the idea of visible claims, beyond just the obvious sexy stuff of "marked, now you're mine." Bc the way you wrote it it's more a sign of how long they've been together, how familiar they are, how much they long to have something somewhat tangible as a reminder that they're there for each other. It's an intimacy of knowing one another

Price and Witch being so intertwined that Price meets up with the other Fae boys and is confused at why they're shuffling uncomfortably until he realises he has Witches magic all over him and not only did he not notice bc he's become so used to their presence that it's a comfort but the fact that it's there means they have become so used to his presence they automatically warded him a little bit, not intentionally or through any rituals but their intent of wanting to protect him and keep him safe (and maybe even mark him what? Who said that?) Wrapped around him like a loving embrace. For a couple who's interactions started off measured and contract-like its a real step up to the point that welcoming him is as easy as breathing. (Loving someone like breathing)

Witch goes about their day perfectly happy until they notice something in the corner of their eye and see Prices magic clinging to their doorway, a sign to ward off any unwelcome visitors. And they should be mad at him but... the last time he was here was days ago and if they confront him they have to admit to themselves and him that it took them that long to notice after days of walking past, just accepting it as normal.

Witch wrapping their hair and their thoughts aren't even on Price but somehow their ambient love of him worms it's way into the intentions (I love hair wrapping btw)

Price having a stressful day and when he gets home (does he have a home? He feels a little bit like a bum that just waits to annoy Witch) he feels himself relax. And he's confused bc yeah this is his territory so it's safe but he's never felt the tension leave his body so quickly, until he notices he conveniently sat on the floor, right near his cigar tray, at the perfect height to smell the ashes from one of Witch's cigars.

I'm going to write just little snippets for all of these.

Everything feels warmer after leaving you, lighter, safer. Price lights a cigar while his boys watch him carefully. He raises a brow at them through the fingering smoke. If one of them has something to say they'd be best advised to get it over with. Soap nudges Gaz, who shakes his head quickly and nudges Ghost, who promptly throws Gaz under the bus.

"Gaz wants to say something," Ghost announces.

"You've gotten worse," Gaz tells him with a glare, "Why do I hafta do it?"

"'Cause he won't be mad at you," Soap chimes in. Gaz groans and leans forward, his elbows on the table.

"You're toting around Witch wards," Gaz is flat out with it, Price'll give him that.

"Am I?" It's barely a question in tone, but is he? He hadn't noticed. Now that he thinks about it though, he can still feel where your hands settled on his chest, your lips on his cheek telling him to take care. Your magic wraps around him like a blanket, ambient and comforting. That explains the warmth. Cheeky little thing, he should've known you'd pull something like this. You can't help yourself.

The part that gets him though, is he hadn't noticed. He always notices foreign magic like an allergic reaction. It itches his skin, gives him headaches. Especially witch's magic, he should've felt that immediately. Oil and water, it should have done something to him, caused a reaction of some sort. Yet even his smoke seemed clingier, soft with you.

He tugs at the lingering magic, feels it purr like a particularly clingy kitten. Well, it's not hurting anyone. It can stay.

"You're as bad as Ghost, you know that?" Gaz shakes his head. Ghost glares at him.

"When did I become the fuckin' benchmark?" He asks angrily.

-

It's been sitting quietly at the edge of your magical perception for days before you actually notice it. Passing through your front door you have to stop at the unfamiliar ward. You cast your eyes about as if you could see it, but come up short. Something in the familiarity of it worms its way into your brain and directs you where to look. How silly that you hadn't noticed him put his own protections on you.

You press your hand to the worn wood of your door frame with a smile. You can feel the residual magic Price must have left, how did you miss it? It's so clear and foreign to your own wards, that you should have noticed immediately. Even the edges of your wards have grown around it like one tree absorbing another. Strange that your magic would notice before you did, but you suppose you've grown so used to Price's magic it's become almost second nature to you. You can almost feel his hand under yours, fond, affectionate, warning anything that might pass by.

You take your hand off the door frame to touch your fingers to your lips, kissing them before tapping them against Price's seal. For luck, you think.

-

You're half way through rubbing lotion onto your arms when you notice you're feeling very pink. Not just you, your magic, your being. You check the bottle you're using, it's not any spell you're not used to, weird. You finish up with your body lotion and when the pink feeling doesn't dispel you go to check your shower to make sure you didn't mix any strange ingredients into your usual scrubs. You can't have any strange magic working on you when you see Price tomorrow or you'll have to cancel your date.

Date. You probably shouldn't call it that when you see him daily, but it feels special every time. He kisses you like it's special every time, like he'll never get another chance for it. You press your fingers to your lips with a giddy smile, feel the pink magic bubble happily.

You pick through your products with a witch's unintentional intent. Rose, rosemary, lilac, iris, weaving your little love spell into your skin and bubbling over with your happy thoughts. You'll school your emotions later, for now you're enjoying this. Besides, you don't have any clients scheduled for tomorrow, who cares if your magic is a little messy?

"Y'smell good," Price tells you when you see him, his arms around you as he presses his lips to any skin he can find. You direct his lips back to yours and feel the pink tinge him as his tongue drags against yours. His magic bleeds against yours, pulls as eagerly as his hands do until you're shivering against his chest.

You tip your head back as he kisses your throat, breathes you in with heavy intent. His beard tickles, scratchy but soft in a way that makes you think he takes meticulous care of it. His tongue drags against your pulse, his teeth sharp when they nibble your jaw.

"Y'know you don't need love spells for me, Sweatheart," He whispers in your ear and you feel heat pop over your cheeks, more embarrassed than anything else. Gods, that's what that is, isn't it?

"Date cancelled," You tell him a little breathless with him still kissing your neck. You whack his shoulders with your hands to get him off, "Price I need to wash all this off of me, you are going to make it worse."

"Fine by me," He tells you calmly, making no move to stop. You think he does this on purpose sometimes. Bastard.

-

Price kicks the door shut behind him, barely remembers to turn the lights on before he's collapsed back against his couch. The soft moonlight through the windows is less comforting and more indicative of how over-fucking-worked he is. Gaz has to start coming to court with him, take some of this load before it breaks his fucking back.

He exhales deeply, feels the billow of smoke release from his lungs. Unspent magic. It hooks itself to the walls and ceiling, hanging like kudzu vines, threatening to strangle anything that challenges its path forwards. He breathes in, feels the ash of his morning cigar swirl and spark. Soft and familiar. Yours, he smiles to himself.

You've made a sweet habit of gifting him cigars. Simple tobacco in tobacco, it shouldn't make a spell like this, but you are a wonder. He can smell your hopes while you were making this, the residual magic of your intent. "Remember me" Your ashes whisper to him, "Let me bring you peace, happiness."

It shouldn't surprise him to feel his muscles unwind, dragged down by your gentle magic. He can almost feel your fingers on his jaw tipping his head back onto the arm of the couch, your lips against his forehead imploring him to relax. How could he ever refuse your ministrations.

#I do love the idea of witch wrapping her hair or putting it in curlers #but I also know I have short haired readers #so just some nightly routine stuff #john price x oc #cod x reader #x reader #john price x reader #captain john price #john price #captain price x oc #captain price x reader #captain price cod #captain price #oc: witch #They're so disgusting I wanna gag #Anyway do you wanna take over writing for them because you fucking get it

[the1975attheirverybest]

Monsters under the bed

A/N: Promptober day 3, folks.

Prompt: Scary Movies

Warnings: None

----

"Daddy, daddy, wake up." Matty stirred in his sleep, groaning in response to his daughter's tiny, incessant fingers poking at his shoulder over and over.

"What is it baby? daddy's sleeping, can't this wait until morning?" he attempts to look at her, in the dark, one eye still closed.

she shakes her head timidly. "Daddy, I'm scared."

Matty's eyes shot wide open.

His wife, asleep beside him, seemed to awaken. she mumbled softly, "w-whats the matter?"

"Oh, nothing-" Matty pulled the duvet back over her. "you sleep, I've got her."

"you're a good husband, Matty Healy."

A guilty husband is what he was. A lying husband. Gently, he took his daughter's hand in his, tiptoeing around the room.

***

"One more story, please??" His daughter has definitely inherited his charm and big expressive eyes. And she made him weak.

"sweet girl, it's late. you need your sleep if you're gonna grow big, smart, and beautiful." Matty yawned, "and daddy is sleepy."

"Please, Daddyyyy." She tugged at his sleeves.

Matty had known that letting her watch that horror film with him and the boys was a mistake, but she'd begged so much. She'd seen the popcorn and chocolate. She'd heard them all giggling together. He wasn't going to banish her from uncle George's lap, to whom she'd clung for dear life. She was too cute to say no to. She'd even successfully kept it a secret from her mother.

"okay, one more, then its bedtime for sure. Promise?"

her whole face lit up, flashing him her mother's signature smile. "Promise."

***

"Daddy, wake up, I'm still scaaredddd." she whisper-yelled into Matty;s ear. Her hot breath against his skin startled him out of his slumber.

"Holy-" he bit his tongue to keep from waking his clueless wife. "why are you still awake, baby?"

"I- I think- I think the monster from the movie is in my room."

Matty's neck whipped to the side to check that his wife was still sound asleep at the word "movie."

This was no one's fault but his.

"Al-alright, baby."

***

"So- ghosts aren't real- so they can't be in my closet, or- or under the bed?" she echoed what he'd just taken pains to teach her, adding extra sprinkles to her ice cream bowl with each spoonful. Matty had taught her that knowing is the antidote to fear. Because he wanted her to know that things are a lot less scary when you know more about them. When he'd established that rule, he'd anticipated having to explain how swings worked, and why she wouldn't just fly off in them. Ghosts, however, were a trickier concept.

"exactly." Matty decided he'd indulge in some sprinkles too. "Besides, Daddy built this house from scratch. Its new. It can't be haunted. That- umm, house in the movie? it's really old, yeah."

"Daddy?"

"Yeah, baby?"

"If ghosts aren't real, then where do we go after we die?"

He thought her question for a second, under-prepared for philosophical debates with a 5 year old at 3 AM. Ultimately, he decided it wasn't the right time for coffins underground, and flesh eating worms, and skeletons.

"after we die?" He put a spoonful of ice cream into his mouth. "we go on to live in the hearts of the people who love us. They keep us safe in their heart. We keep them company, so they're never alone. And they never forget us."

"Like your nana?" she reached over from the kitchen stool that she'd been perched on, tapping Matty's chest tattoo. "she lives in here. right?"

Matty's eyes glittered with pride. "that's right."

***

"Daddy? Daddy, wake up. Daddy I'm still scared of the fake ghost."

Matty was too exhausted to do this anymore. He scooted over in bed, lifting the blanket to make room for her. "c'mon, baby, hop in."

He turned over to his side, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her into his chest. He'd have to explain this to his wife in the morning, but for now, he would savor the opportunity to keep his baby girl safe from ghosts.

#matty healy fanfic #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy one shot #matty healy fluff #promptober75

[daryldixonsdoormat]

Only we will know what happened.

(Not a ship post)

The world will crumble when its secrets are revealed, it's an undeniable truth. First, the government will fumble with its discretion over everyone and the rebels will rejoice. Rejoice in the fact that their freedom is finally granted to them after decades of patience. District 12 was known for coal mines, it made total sense for Snow to burn it to the ground. Seeing the ash in the mines is nothing compared to the ash of your home, your life, your companions. Ash is soft a powdery, it's ready to drift off into the wind, to be forgotten for eternity. You cant preserve the ash of hundreds, I know it will all vanish when the wind picks up. Secondly, the world will crumble when there is no hope: hope is what keeps everyone alive. It's kept me alive for the 2-3 years i've been connected to the capital. My hope will keep me alive for more years to come because the capital will never leave me. The horror of the capital will plague my life: like a serum injected into my veins. The capital will pick me apart piece for a piece until I don't know who I am, I feel the last chunk chip away at the ruins. I could imagine my hope crumbling into the floor and turning into a concentrated ash much like the rest of my life. I will never know what is slipping through my fingers when I pick up the ash, I’ll watch it blow away, past the victor's village and past the meadow. Past our meadow. If I could keep one thing in this lifetime it would be him. The courageous, giving, responding, selfless man that saved my life over and over again. Peeta didn't kill; it wasn't in his nature. But he saves, he saves me from night terrors, he saves me from self-doubt, he saves me from myself. Peeta trails behind me picking up the chunks I lose and does the impossible, he preserves the ash of my cracking hope. My breath shudders and picks up quickly, a horrifying nightmare of what my life once was. My chest constricts rapidly and I palm my chest frantically looking around for an escape. The ground begins to shake and more ash vanishes from in front of me. Tears sting my waterline; they beg to fall down my face at a steady pace. The ground shakes with meaning from side to side, the floor cracks right down the middle taking me with it. “Shh shh, you’re okay. You’re with me”, he whispers into my ear holding me tightly. I calm slightly hearing his voice but my breath is still labored and my disobedient tears finally fall. The sound of me inhaling in high pitch shows my discomfort, my fear which is a struggle to decipher is real. This isn't how it goes; not normally; I should be okay now. I should be back to steady breathing and back into my reality but I see the ash with every blink. Peeta is quick to panic now too, sitting up throwing the blankets off our warm bodies. My lungs are constricting against my chest and I hear a piercing ring in my ears. My hands cup around my ears out of instinct to block the parade of noise over taking my senses. Peeta pulls on my shoulder and lays me on my back also putting his hands over my ears: right on top of mine. Peeta lays his body weight on top of my chest, demonstrating deep breaths for me to follow. We are face to face, our foreheads touching much like the rest of our bodies. My breathing slows after what feels like forever and its just quiet…our hands still cupping my ears. Peeta slips his hands off of mine when he hears my heart beat settle, I take my now shaky hands off my own ears and look down at my lover. He looks at me without a second to spare, the pressure from my body is removed and he sits up against the bed post with his arms open. I crawl into his arms feeling safe. “Do you want to talk about it?”, He asks sweetley rubbing up and down my arm soothingly. I bury my face into the crook of his neck, wrapping my arms securely around his body, “Not yet”. He doesn't push it, Peeta whispers out a light ‘okay’ and lays his head onto mine, holding me securely. Time passes slowly, we are both just laying with each other waiting for movement. “Are you hungry? I can make us some food”, Peeta asks only slightly worried about how much time they have spent in bed. I grip his shirt tightly scared that he will move and leave me by myself; but I know Peeta cant bring himself to do that. I shake my head no curling up even more into his embrace, “Baby you have to eat. This is the second time you've missed breakfast”, he muttered into my hair. I know what he is saying is true, I have to stay healthy, we agreed it was the best thing to do. Keep a routine, its extremely important to take care of the people he loves, this is no expectation. But when im with him the world stills and my memories still and no longer are at the forefront of my mind. Maybe I can skip breakfast one more time. “Lets just lay here a little longer”, I move my head to look at him, “Please?” I ask hopefully. For a moment I think I got my way because Peeta stayed silent and looked at me with patience and love. Then my body is being moved into a sitting position alongside Peeta. “Sorry Honey we can’t today”, he hold my face with both hands staring into my eyes. We lean in and our lips touch softly and we part with a quiet smack. 

#Peeta Mellark #the hunger games peeta #peeta mellark x reader #peeta supremacy #peeta x reader #peeta mellark x you #peeta mellark angst #peeta mellark x y/n #peeta mellark fluff #THG Peeta

[brezchez]

The difference between a want and a need

A/N:

Sooo LoZ brainrot is fierce atm. And with my exams coming up I thought what better way to practice for English language than writing a story!

The idea was that Zelda and Link are presented as opposites through their personalities and attitudes: Zelda is argumentative and fairly irrational whilst Link is compliant and composed. So it is more or less based on their canon personality traits in the original game which I deemed were complete opposites when I first played it.

Idk if I showed that as clearly in this fic but regardless I hope you enjoy it anyway.

That all being said, please enjoy :)

--------

The Great Hall - Hyrule Castle

“But Father, I do not need him!” Zelda fumed. Her father, as always, was being unnecessarily stubborn over a matter that shouldn’t have happened. The idea of having a personal knight assigned to her was simply absurd and ridiculous. She didn’t need an escort; she was sixteen, not six.

“No, Zelda. It has been decided. The dangers in Hyrule are growing out of hand. Therefore, it is essential that you be watched over and supervised in order to keep you safe, at all times,” the King replied. His demeanour was annoyingly calm, as if he didn’t understand Zelda’s anger, or even elected to ignore it entirely.

“I am not a child anymore. I am almost of age-”

“Which is all the more reason for you to be kept an eye on!” her father interrupted, this time with a more insistent tone.

Zelda almost audibly scoffed at her own stupidity to believe that she could have had a chance at winning in this feud. She should’ve known by now that arguing with her father was futile; no matter what he always got his way and she was fully aware of that after 10 years of consistent on-and-off conflicts.

Crossing her arms, the princess looked away from her father and muttered, “Sounds more like the habits of a Yiga spy to me,” under her breath.

At this, the King’s glare hardened at her.

“I will not tolerate this attitude, Zelda," he said. His voice was calm but stern, and tinted with an assertive anger that stilled Zelda’s thoughts. “Not as your father and certainly not as your king.”

Silence blanketed them like ice over a lake as his words sank in. Hands falling to her sides, Zelda bowed her head in submission and, begrudgingly, accepted defeat, as she always did.

“I apologise, Father,” she answered, trying to conceal her frustrations as best she could.

The King simply hummed. It was unclear whether he accepted her apology or merely tolerated it.

“He will be accompanying you starting from tomorrow, everywhere you go. Apart from your quarters, where he will instead be waiting and guarding outside your door. He will never leave your side and you will do no such thing to abandon him.”

The whole situation was almost laughable; it was ridiculous, Zelda thought. But before she could get a word in, her father said, “Is that understood, Zelda?”

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

“Of course.”

There was little more she could do when he finally dismissed her.

– – – – –

1 week later:

The Ancient Columns - Tabantha

The ancient relics of the Skeikah and the ancestors from 10,000 years ago never ceased to amaze Zelda. To think that they were actually designed by people! She was sure she would never truly be able to wrap her head around the complexity of every monument or artefact they would come across.

Looking up at the wondrous structure, she slowly stepped forward, marvelling continuously at its idiosyncratic architecture and design before reaching a sort of pedestal.

Curiously, she tried placing what had been named as the ‘Sheikah slate’ against a central glowing blue symbol. But nothing happened.

The princess deduced that it must have been designed to be exclusively accessed by the sword’s chosen one, which disheartened her slightly, as she was eager to discover what was inside. But no matter, designs could always be worked around… at least she hoped.

As if in cue, the faint sound of galloping hooves was suddenly heard approaching. Zelda turned around who it was, and as she identified the horse’s rider her initial confusion turned to frustration.

It was him.

Gripping the slate a little tighter in her hands, Zelda glared at her knight annoyedly. She had already told him to leave her and wait for her at the bottom of the hill that led to the columns, hoping that it would buy her at least a little privacy and time to herself.

But no.

He just had to be her guardian angel, didn’t he?

For the past week, he had been following her constantly, wherever she went. When her father said he would never leave her side, he had meant it. It didn’t help either that her new knight barely said a word to her as well. She wasn’t sure why and she didn’t feel it was necessary to ask him for a reason, so she assumed it was because he disliked her. Wasn’t that always the one reason why people wouldn’t talk to each other?

“I thought I made it clear that I am not in need of an escort,” Zelda said, walking towards him and making little effort to hide her irritation.

The knight didn’t answer and merely stared at her.

Zelda sighed exhaustively. “It seems I am the only one with a mind of my own,” the princess retorted, then continued to order him to return to her father as she had done countless times before. She didn’t care how pointless it was to refuse his service, she did not need him!

However, the knight seemed to ignore her demands, like he always did, and as she started to walk back down the hill, he infuriatingly began to follow her again.

Zelda sighed once more, before angrily shouting, “And stop following me!”

Her blurt seemed to surprise the knight, as he halted his movements and stared at her – his eyes betraying the slightest hint of surprise. Zelda held his gaze, hoping her words would start to sink in in his stubborn mind, but she was surprised to see his eyebrows start to furrow slightly instead.

“You know why I can’t do that, your Highness,” he answered, calmly but firmly.

“And why is that?” Zelda argued, crossing her arms and tilting her head expectantly.

“The King gave me strict instructions and I must follow through with them. So, I’m sorry but I won’t stop following you. I can't."

Zelda was taken aback by his audacity. The nerve of him!

“Are you defying an order from your princess?” she asked, taking a step closer to him.

“I don’t need to follow your orders. Only the King’s,” he replied, his attitude calm and composed. Zelda stared at his expression, unsure of what she was searching for in it. But whatever it was, it was concealed annoyingly well.

She wouldn’t be able to win this fight. But of course not, she never could. Not with her father, not with her knight, not with anyone. Even with her position as princess, the only thing she could do was to sit and submit. She had power in her kingdom, but what good was it if she couldn’t do anything with it?

Zelda gave a final defiant glare at her knight, then groaned frustratedly and continued to walk down the hill – her knight and his horse close behind.

– – – – –

Kara Kara Bazaar - Gerudo Desert

The sands blazed beneath her feet as Zelda sprinted through the dunes. Her eyes frantically darted left and right seeing nothing but a blur of muted yellows and the occasional flash of red.

Zelda looked behind her for a split second, searching for her knight who had suddenly disappeared. She couldn’t see him.

But she had no time to wonder where he was. Not when she was being chased down by the Yiga.

Sand grains in the air flew into her eyes, but the princess continued to run. She couldn’t stop. She could feel the adrenaline being pumped through her blood, fighting to keep her moving as fast as she could.

Suddenly, two Yiga assassins appeared out of nowhere, blocking her path. Zelda tried turning back, but there was another waiting for her.

Her breathing shallowed. Her heart raced. Her legs buckled beneath her, plummeting her to the ground. Zelda shuffled back as the Yiga assassin neared her, but the sound of vicious sickles being drawn behind her froze her in place.

She was trapped.

Zelda looked between all three of them, terrified of who would strike first. Fear and dread enveloped her as the Yiga member to her right twirled their sickle – the blade glimmering with murderous intent under the burning sun.

They approached her, and raised their blade.

Zelda squeezed her eyes shut and readied herself for the pain as it came crashing down.

CRK-SHING!

But no blade pierced her.

Zelda warily opened her eyes and caught sight of a vicious sickle falling beside her in the sand. Then, she noticed a familiar hue of blue beside her.

It was him. Link.

The princess gazed at her knight, who stood strong and defiant against the remaining two assassins. His cerulean blue eyes were firm and courageous, showing nothing but a determination to protect her; a notion that warmed Zelda inside. Despite all her bitterness, all her resentment towards him, Link continued to stay by her. Anyone else for sure would have left afted becoming too fed up with her stubbornness, but Link stayed. His loyalty never faltered.

And that was something truly admirable about him.

Her knight gestured his head, telling her to get to a safer spot, which she obeyed too with no hesitation.

Seeing her move, a Yiga member lunged towards the princess, but Link swiftly halted their advancements. And as the second attempted to do the same, he stopped them just as efficiently. The three were quickly engaged in a fight - the sharp sounds of metal clashing and clanging ringing throughout the dunes as blades met barrier.

Link easily gained the upper hand. There was no hesitation in his movements. No wavering uncertainty. No fear. Every swing of his legendary sword was done with purpose, with intent, as if his fighting patterns were each carefully planned which resulted in flawless execution.

The same could be said for his use of his shield, which was traditionally a defensive asset in a soldier's arsenal. Yet somehow, he had managed to utilise it as an offensive tact. Through the use of "parrying" as Zelda once heard Urbosa call it.

The princess watched her knight from her safe place behind a rock, seeing his fluid movements that displayed an element of grace as well as aggression.

Some might have said that he looked like a work of art in that moment. (And Zelda would have been one of them.)

Finally, Link disposed of the last Yiga assassin, drawing out his blade from their chest and kicking their lifeless corpse to the ground, allowing the sands to pull them under and fuse them in time with Mother Nature. Sheathing his sword, he looked around, searching for the princess. He caught the glimpse of her golden locks behind a rock and ran to her.

"Your Highness," Link said, kneeling in front of her. "Are you hurt?" he asked, concern laced his voice. Zelda smiled reassuringly.

"I am safe and unharmed," she said as she met his eyes and watched the worry in them melt away like the snows of winter under a warming sun.

"Thank Hylia." She heard him mutter under his breath, relieved. Biting her lip, Zelda looked away for a moment before meeting her knight's gaze again.

"Thank you," she said softly, "For saving me."

Link's eyes widened in surprise; he wasn't used to gratitude, especially one coming from the princess, who had originally been detesting him for weeks and voicing her hatred profusely. However, it seemed that she heard his thoughts, as she continued…

"I know I have not been the most gracious and kindest soul to you these past few weeks," she began. Link listened intently. "But I realise that I may have been taking you for granted. It seems that you play a much bigger role than I had initially assumed. For that I am… sorry."

If someone had told Link that the same princess he had been assigned to look after 4 weeks ago would be apologising to him now, he would have called that person barking mad. Yet here he was, hearing a heartfelt apology straight from her.

Link couldn't help the slight curve on his lips as he replied, "You're forgiven your Highness. And you're welcome."

Zelda exhaled relievedly and smiled softly.

Perhaps she did need him after all.

--------

Pt. 2?

#legend of zelda #loz #breath of the wild #botw #loz botw #botw link #botw zelda #link #zelda #zelink #zelink fanfiction #loz fanfic #botw fanfiction #fanfic

[gothickyle]

‘BLUE NIGHTS’

LEVI ACKERMAN X FEM! READER

fluff comfort, trauma mention

Wc: 750

It’s been a while since I’ve written something Bc of school so this is really bad, sorry

—-----------------------

While taking a bath, I heard the front door open. I knew it was my husband when he shouted “HONEY I'M HOME!” He says that every single time and it always brings a smile to my face. Years of being in abusive and uncomfortable relationships and finally finding myself in a healthy relationship is something I am very proud of.

Levi opened the bathroom door and found me there. “That smells nice, are you using the bath bomb you bought last week?” He gave me a kiss on the cheek and I replied with “Yeah, it's a birthday cake flavor. If you're hungry, I made pasta. I left you a plate of it in the microwave.”

“Alright, thank you for making it for me, your cooking is the best baby.”

And with that, I fell into a dark pit of black.

For the past few days, I keep having flashbacks of my past. I was abused by my step dad in many forms which developed my many abusive relationships in my early 20s.I was so lost that when i met my husband, Levi, at the time, I thought he was just gonna be like the others.

In my life I've been judged for everything. My looks,education,relationships,mental health, etc. Most of it was from my mother who never believed when I told her what her husband did to me. I tried to forgive my mother for not believing me and i wanted to have a good relationship with her.

When it was time to introduce Levi to my mother, she judged. She told me I looked like a fool because he was just gonna use me like all the other men and he's way too good for me because he has a lot of money and comes from a successful and well known family.

When it came to meeting his mother, I was so scared. Thinking I wasn’t good enough. I was proven wrong though. I consider her my mom and when we got married, she walked me down the aisle and everything.

I remember when I met Levi, my whole life changed. He knows about my past and childhood and he's helped me heal. My life is going so well right now that it feels so good and now I feel like something might happen. My thoughts keep making me more insecure like I was before.

I feel like I'm suffocating and I don't wanna ruin things.

—-----------

I was on the bed after an hour of taking my bath. I was waiting for Levi to come. He was eating and watching tv at this time. He works so hard that I feel like I just sit around and do nothing. He told me that if I want to work after we got married that's fine but he makes a lot of money and said that I don't need to have a job because he will always take care of me.

I don’t mind that but I feel like people judge me. I think that's my biggest problem

While being in my delusional mind, I felt an arm wrap around my arm. ”What’s that pretty head of yours thinking about? Did you not hear me calling you baby?”

“Sorry, I've just been out of it these past few days.” Levi and I were getting more comfy on the bed and he wrapped the blanket on us.

“I've noticed, are you feeling okay? Do you wanna tell me something?”

There's a lot of things I wanna say. I don't wanna say them because I feel like I am too much.

“I know how you get when you're feeling bad, just tell me. Everything is gonna be okay.”

I felt the tears come out my eyes and Levi moved me over so he could see my face. I told him about everything and all of my bad ideas went away. He knows how to comfort me and how to bring me down. It’s like he was meant to save me from this cruel world. He made a promise to me to always keep me safe and i definatiny feel it. I need to learn how to love myself and to stop thinking everyone is judging me. Even if they are, why should I care? It's my life and it's been perfect since I met my husband. The night was so calming to us and we enjoyed every second of it.

#fanfic #x reader #headcanon #he is the loml #stuff for you #attack on titan #aot x reader #captain levi x reader #levi arckerman #levi angst #levi headcanons #levi x hange #levi smut #levi x reader #levi aot #levi attack on titan #levi ackerman x reader #captain levi #levi x you #aot fandom #aot lemon #it’s been a long long time #I’ve been away #anime gif #mine 😈 #erwin smith

[ladycatofwinterfell]

😻❤

This is technically two snippets but it’s the same story so you’re getting both

1.

“We could be wed.”

His door had barely opened, but when it did she was met by a very surprised Ned.

“Excuse me” he said.

“We could be wed. It would be a powerful alliance, it would end the fighting for our hands in marriage, we are both young, we can make strong and healthy children.”

She had woken in the middle of the night with nothing else on her mind. She had thought of it briefly a few times during his two weeks at Riverrun, but it had passed just as quickly as it had come to her each time. Though as she jerked away that night she had known that she had to at least put the question forward. It would put an end to their struggles, they were of similar mind.

“You are asking for us to wed?”

She reached for one of his hands, took it in the both of hers. His hands were always so warm, that time was no exception.

“I am, Ned. Tell me no if you believe it to be foolish, but I see a solution in this.”

There was desperation in her voice, she could hear it, but she couldn’t care. He had made her desperate for something other than a lonely life. He had to understand.

“Many issues would come with it” Ned said.

He raised his free hand and traced his fingers down her cheek.

“Nothing that we cannot sort out together.”

“In that you’re right.”

Ned leaned towards her and pressed a kiss to her forehead. The movement was so soft that it took her breath away. There was a gentleness about the frozen lord of the north that she hadn’t expected when he arrived there.

“Let us speak more of it on the morrow” he mumbled.

“You can always say no. This must not mean anything” she said softly, letting her hands trail up his arm.

It was no small decision, after all. It would change the course of their lives, the future of their houses. It was stupid to make such a decision with haste.

“I’m not saying no, I’m saying we should speak more of it on the morrow.”

Would it come to that they decided against it she would fall back into her pain, she was more than aware of that. She had entertained her fantasies with him for no more than a couple of weeks and still it had become so real. It was madness.

“I don’t want to lose you” she said. “You sat in the chair next to mine, I can sit in the chair next to yours.”

“We would see each other rarely.”

“But it would be each other we saw.”

2.

A rain so light that it was barely noticeable fell from a sky covered in thick clouds. Catelyn did her best to cover the babe in her arms from it but it was a pointless struggle. Small drops of water found his face and tickled his nose. Still he didn’t squirm. He was fast asleep, didn’t seem to notice the rain.

Her little son, her strong boy. How she had laboured to bring him into the world and how happy she was for it. Red of hair and blue of eye, he had her features. At first she had planned to leave him in his cradle while she received the guests, but it had not seemed right.

Lord Stark said nothing as he rode into the courtyard, merely looked at her. And through the mist of rain she could not see what went on behind his eyes. She dared not smile, only looked back at him.

It was strangely silent as he sat off his horse. His following came behind him, but none of them said a thing and neither did anyone that had stood there waiting for them.

“Lady Tully” he greeted her as he approached.

She bowed her head towards him.

“Lord Stark.”

Then he turned his eyes towards the boy in her arms. He came close enough to see the little face that was hidden behind the blankets wrapped around her son to keep him safe from the rain.

“He has your hair” he noted, letting a finger run down the sleeping boy’s cheek.

There was a wonder in his voice, he sounded almost breathless as he said it. She knew his wonder, she had also felt it.

“He does” she said.

“My heir.”

If it was rain or if his eyes were tearing she didn’t know, all she knew was her own smile as she handed Ned their son. He held the boy ever so carefully, as if he was afraid of hurting him. The little life in his arms, so unlike himself.

“Our heir” she reminded him.

“For now.”

She couldn’t help but smile at his certainty of that they would have more children.

#2022 snippets

[baekuras]

@shadowy-dumbo-octopus​

I actually didn't buy mine on etsy but ebay (faster at the time for about the same money...but it arrived this year and not next year), but I am pretty sure it was available on etsy as well

I chose one of the smaller, cheaper ones (because rip money) with my eye more on the shipping costs since there is....literally nothing in germany to buy from in such cases so.....shipping

Mine is about 3cms by3cms and some mm big/wide but I have seen some going near or beyond 4cms (wasn't worth the 20€increase for me though so I can't speak for that ones quality or if it's a noteable size difference (at work i do work in small sizes to the milimeters so I definitely notice any small change but still...20extra bucks from what I could gather at the time was not something i wanted to pay for...yet...absolutely yet i know me)

To me only the handmade ones stand out as with the rest you can see...its the same producer so...just go with what's proven to work there since the price doesn't vary much either way

Also I didn't even look at any of the silver made ones, I do not have the money for silver and it also seems too much for what I wanted(it's so fucking shiny when polished it's insane, pretty and well done but I didn't need a funhouse mirror near me...also I am not allergic to nickel so no worries about it seeping through if ever)

tl;dr: I got nothing handcrafted or specially made, paid overall 30bucks with shipping, it's about 3x3cms big and about the quality I expected for smth that w/out shipping would have cost me less than 20€

If you are able to splurge out the extra money for a handmade one or bigger sized one I'd go for it because it just seems like it'd be extra nice size/weight wise, but I didn't like the styles I saw (enough) to go for them

#txts #anyhow if anyone else has salt to add feel free to tell #bc i am sure i am not the only person who decided to go for a cat medallion #this is a lot of text for basically #i went for a cheap-ish option thats around p much everywhere and got what i asked for #which isnt handcrafted or insane quality but...you know...average? #its clean its shiny it got no bumps or scratches so yeah #one of the very bottom teeth is a little croocked and by little i mean #about 1.5mm at best #yes i took it out and inspected every crook to best asses it rn #i am 100%sure that the handmade ones will be better than what i brought #but i also know i'd never let myself wear or carry it around then bc...what if smth does happen to it #i am not known to wrap my things in blankets to keep them safe from everything #my glasses can attest to that (i am so sorry to them) #if we go by pictures #the olympics russian shooter Vitalina Batsarashkina i think was her name #carried a cat medallion in the last one i think #it seems about the same size as mine #scratch that it is the one i brought #the chain etc are the same #and thats one of the...generally made not handcrafted ones #so i guess thats a p good pic for seeing it irl...at the olympics #also chain wise i went w 60cms #50 seemed to small #w/ 60 i can just pull it over my head #and 70 was too long considering i dont actually wear thick leather armor underneath it #this is why i cant be a writer look at this rambling I'd never get anything done #a page turns into a book with this brain (deragatory) #the witcher #so tl;dr²: its that russian womans from the olympics one

[devildomdisaster]

Comfort spell gone wrong (the dateables)

Anonymous asked: for the lore Olympus ask but with the dateables. (Deleted this ask by accident but here it is)

Comfort spell gone wrong

Not only had the brothers been completely horrible the past few weeks but even your friends in purgatory hall and Diavolo himself had been too busy for you.

You understood that Simeon was busy helping Luke work through some things. But still, being brushed aside after the brothers had been so cruel towards you hadn’t helped your crumbling self-worth.

Solomon had heaved a big sigh and told you “They're demons Mc. It’s what they do. You’re going to have to grow a thicker skin. Besides, I don’t have time to help you with something so trivial.” Before handing you a page from a spellbook “if you really can’t deal with it yourself use this for comfort.”

You’d undeniably ruined Barbatos’s hard work when you’d tripped and tipped over the cake he’d been working on all morning. The demon had shooed you from his domain with barely concealed rage and asked you not to come back until “you can prevent yourself from causing me more work.”

Diavolo, despite always telling you you could come to him with your troubles, had snapped that Solomon seemed to be doing just fine. “So maybe you need to try harder, Mc. Rather than blaming your problems on other people.”

The spell Solomon had given you seemed simple enough. Although it was in an unfamiliar mix of Latin and Infernal. Couldn’t hurt to try though. At least not anymore than you were already hurting. You’d cast the spell, stumbling through a few words and thinking it hadn’t worked when nothing happened. Figures you couldn’t do it, you were still new to magic and just as useless at it as everyone had so kindly reminded you the last few days. It still sapped your energy though, stupid spell. You closed your eyes thinking that maybe it was better that the spell didn’t work. You’d never live down the embarrassment if anyone found out you tried to use a comfort spell.

Lucifer calls the others asking if anyone has seen you, after several days of radio silence from you. Solomon, Luke, and Simeon rush to the house of Lamentation once they hear you haven’t been seen for days. They find Lucifer and the brothers crowded around you, worriedly discussing the spell which has covered you and your room in vines. Babratos and Diavolo are already there, both looking guilty. Solomon feels his stomach drop when he recognizes the page from the spellbook.

“Lucifer, I recognize that spell, I gave it to them when-” Solomon begins

“Yes, it figures you would have your hands in this Solomon.” Lucifer glares.

It’s Simeon who steps forward to undo the spell, giving Luke’s shoulder a comforting squeeze on his way by. “Lucifer if you would,” he says gesturing to your form “this will take both our magics to undo, I believe.”

Solomon:

Shit, shit! Solomon recognizes that spell! He gave it to you.

It wasn’t supposed to do this, it was just a simple comfort spell!

But he can’t help feeling responsible for what's happened.

He feels like he should have known, should have realized something was going on when he gave you that spell.

You’d just wanted to talk, but he was so caught up in trying to find a way to make pacts with the brothers that he totally brushed you off.

He handed you a page out of a spellbook instead. And told you to deal with things yourself.

Solomon is crushed. He has always told you that if you ever need to talk to another human, he’d be there. But he wasn’t. He told you to deal with it alone.

When Simeon and Lucifer break the spell he is by your side in an instant.

Hands fluttering over your body, brushing withering plants off you. Feeling utterly useless.

The spell had gotten so convoluted and twisted in ways he’d never seen before, he hadn’t even been able to break it.

You blink your eyes open, Solomon’s distraught face coming into focus.

“Mc, I shouldn’t have given you that spell. I’m so sorry. I-I said I’d always help you if you needed me but all I did was hurt you instead.”

He wants to distance himself from you. But he knows that won’t make you feel any better. It won’t make him feel better either.

Instead, he’ll be far more careful with the magic he gives you. He’ll start teaching you more magic, so you can practice spells safely.

But he’ll also do his best to make sure you never need a comfort spell again.

He wants to be your comfort.

Solomon will plan elaborate outings and magic filled dates. He gets all these grand ideas and half of them turn into disasters but somehow he’ll make sure the two of you still have fun.

It’s easy for Solomon to forget that he needs to communicate better. But he’s trying. Instead of snapping at you again he’ll be sure to set aside time for himself. Besides, being in the Devildom is more fun with an apprentice anyways, plus teaching you magic gives him plenty of time to make sure you are happy too.

Simeon:

Simeon is shocked when he sees you.

A shiver runs down his spine when he feels the spell sucking the energy from your body.

His eyes don’t miss the botched comfort spell on the ground and he wonders why you didn’t come to him.

And then he realizes. You did. But he brushed you off to help Luke and even when you were hurting you didn’t want to burden him.

He feels like he’s failed you by making you feel like you couldn’t come to him.

When you open your eyes Simeon is the first thing you see.

He gently brushes the plants from your face and hair.

“Oh my sweet little lamb, you are never a burden to me. I am so sorry I made you feel you couldn’t come to me.”

Simeon brings you to Purgatory hall while your room is cleaned.

He gently untangles bits of plant matter from your hair, humming what must be some Celestial lullaby to you.

“Mc,” he begins once he’s removed the remaining plants from your hair and skin, and you’ve allowed yourself to relax into him. “Forgive me, Mc. I should have seen how much you were hurting.”

He is being so gentle with you. But his voice takes a stern edge as he tells you “Next time you feel like this, promise me you will come to me. If you tell me what’s going on I will always have time for you.”

Simeon makes sure to check in on you now, to make time for you. He’ll invite you to Purgatory hall for dinners and/or sleepovers. Oftentimes Luke joins you. But sometimes he’ll sneak you in so the sleepover is your little secret.

Diavolo:

Oh, Mc! He hasn’t seen a spell like this in centuries.

He knows it’s a mistake, but the power it must have taken to cast this spell is impressive.

He’s curious to know what kind of power you’ll have after you’ve been trained properly.

That not to say he isn’t concerned, it's just he knows the spell can be undone, and he finds it easier to deal with the situation if he doesn’t think about how close he came to losing you.

He’ll request that the brothers keep a closer eye on you, not that they weren’t going to anyway.

Diavolo will scoop you from the tangled vines, brushing the remaining vines from your skin as he carries you from your room.

He sits down on his throne, with you still held in his arms. For a moment you're afraid of his thunderous expression.

And then his eyes soften. “Mc,” he whispers. Emotion making his throat tighten, choking off his voice. “Why?”

“Why don’t you find a human who can do better than me Diavolo? You said so yourself, I’m a disappointment.”

“Mc, I didn’t mean! I didn’t want you to-! I didn’t”

He knows what he said. But he never meant for you to take it to heart like this. He was just stressed and he took it out on you.

“I’m sorry, Mc. I shouldn’t have taken my anger out on you. You haven’t disappointed me. I’m sorry I made you feel like you can’t rely on me. Please understand that I would do anything in my power for you.”

A frightening promise from the prince of the Devildom.

Diavolo is careful to control himself in the future. To prevent himself from letting his stress and anger get the better of him.

Careful to remind you how important you are to him, and not just because you are an exchange student, but because he cares for you.

Barbatos:

Anger. Fear. Barbatos tumbles between the two emotions.

It seems that by placing you in this timeline to protect you from Belphagor’s anger he has put you in a new kind of danger. One he didn’t see coming.

This makes him question his decision not to look into the future more than necessary.

Humans are so fragile. And this is just more proof of that fact.

Barbatos is by your side the moment you wake up.

He is lifting you to your feet and guiding you from your room.

Barbatos is a perfect gentleman as he helps you clean up. Helping you scrub the plants from your skin, wrapping you in the softest blankets.

But he remains silent the whole time.

Once you are safely tucked into bed Barbatos speaks. “Mc, I know I have made you feel useless. I should not have taken my anger out on you. I should have known better.”

For a moment you think he’s going to leave, that that’s all he is going to say.

But then he asks if he can stay with you. If the answer is yes, he’ll curl around you in your bed. Holding you to him as if you are likely to disappear.

It has been a long time since Barbatos has had something or someone he has been afraid to lose. “I’m sorry Mc. Please know you can come to me, even if I may be upset. I’d rather you make me face my shortcomings then lose you.”

Barbatos starts having you over for tea more often. He’ll take you on errands with him, if he thinks you’d find them at all interesting.

Mostly he just wants more excuses to spend time with you.

This made him realize how important you are to him and he’ll make sure you know it.

Luke:

Scared little sibling vibes.

Luke is so scared to see you like this!

You are so still and pale that he thinks you might be dead.

When you open your eyes he is so relieved.

Please don’t scare him like this again!

He’s got tears in his eyes, and he half yells half cries at you “Mc! You- you can’t just do something like this. What if- if you had died? I know these demons-” he shoots a watery glare at the demons “can make you feel sad but you’re my friend.”

He’ll ask you to stay at Purgatory hall for a while. He 100% thinks this is all the brother’s fault.

In fact he wants you to move into Purgatory hall permanently and he is so insistent that Diavolo might just let you if that's what you want.

He’ll make sure you know that he sees you as a big sibling, a friend that he could never replace “so please don’t think nobody cares Mc. I know we’re not really related but you’re like a sibling to me.”

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me x reader #obey me x mc #obey me diavolo #obey me diavolo x reader #diavolo x mc #obey me barbatos #barbatos x mc #obey me x gender neutral reader #obey me simeon #obey me simeon x reader #simeon x mc #obey me simeon x mc #obey me solomon x reader #obey me solomon #obey me solomon x mc #solomon x mc #obey me luke #obey me headcanons #obey me scenarios

[ahundredtimesover]

Hold Me Close | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader, ex Namjoon x Reader (ft. brother Jimin)

Genre/Tags: brother’s best friends au; (dash of) angst, fluff (sort of), smut

Warnings: foul language, feelings of insecurity, minor accident caused by inebriation, getting drunk, sexual content (oral, unprotected sex but be safe please!), JK has a hip tattoo and at some point has grey hair (18+)

Word count: 22k

Summary:  When Jimin hits a crisis, he enlists the help of his older sister - you - and his best friend, Jungkook, to put the pieces back again. That proves to be difficult when 1) Jimin’s a brat and a certified pain in the ass, and 2) Jungkook has grown and suddenly, you can’t keep your eyes off him.

A/N: I wanted to write something fun for a change and saw @ladyartemesia‘s brother’s best friend list and thought it would be a nice trope to explore because if there would be an ideal bratty younger brother, it would be Jimin. This was sooo much fun to write but also reminded me again of why I love my baby sister more than anyone in this world. Hope you all enjoy! 

##

Three - the number of missed calls you probably now have just in the last 5 minutes, the vibrations piercing through your pocket and onto your thigh. It might be important, but so is keeping your attention on the department Director to your right, who is complimenting the man to your left, over a proposal that you spent weeks working on. 

You force a smile because in front of your entire department isn’t really the time and place to refute and complain. It doesn’t help that Chul accepts the credit because anything to get ahead, right? 

Just another reason why you dislike this job. Perhaps your boss telling you that you’re too emotional or too soft to be in this industry has gotten to you, but then again, there’s not a bone in you that’s ambitious and competition-craved, unlike your parents. But you try, at least. It’s the least you can do for something that’s expected of their eldest child.

The Director flips a page and turns to you. “Glad you could contribute to this, Ms. Park.” 

He did assign it to you but you suppose your name just flew off his head, but you remind him anyway. 

“Thank you for the opportunity to work on it, Mr. Yoon. I’m truly learning a lot,” you fake a smile and wish for this to end.

Soon enough it does and you bow towards the managers present, one of them giving you the compliment you needed to hear, and excuse yourself before another call comes in. 

Best brother ever, the screen announces, and you curse yourself for still not changing his contact name and for having an easy-enough password to guess. 

“I swear to god, Jimin, this better be an emergency,” you cuss to the person on the other end, already boiling at the thought of him possibly calling to ask how to fix a broken toilet or what kind of oil he’s supposed to buy for frying because he’d done both too many times for you to count.

“___!” The sound of a relieved huff is what greets you, the voice familiar.

“Jungkook?”

“Yeah, hi,” he says. “Uh, we’re at the hospital.”

Your eyes widen and you scold yourself for missing the calls, but then again, you wouldn’t have known because Jimin’s wolf cries precede this moment of an actual emergency. 

“What? Why! Is my brother okay?” You cry out, hands already working on collecting your files and feet rushing towards your desk to pack up.

“Yeah,” Jungkook affirms. “He’s fine. He just—“

“I AM NOT FINE!” You hear your brother shriek in the background, sound a little soft due to distance but you don’t miss the farcical tone of his statement.

“Dude, it’s just a sprained ankle. You’ll live,” Jungkook tells him calmly, away from the phone.

You sigh in relief because Jungkook is definitely the person to believe in times like this.

“From 1 to Jimin, how dramatic is he?” You ask.

“Jimin. Times two.”

“Damn, okay. That actually seems worse than the injury itself huh?” 

Jungkook laughs in agreement. 

“I’m just packing. I’ll go to you guys right after.”

“Alright. General Hospital, emergency room. Just follow the tone of the weeping man-child.”

“I feel so empty. What am I gonna do with my life now!” You hear in the background.

You laugh at your brother’s antics because you’ve heard that exact line not long ago after his building owner told him again that he can’t have a pet in the apartment. But who knows with Jimin this time around?

“Got it. See you in a bit,” you say, then head out to hail a cab.

**

You arrive in the emergency room and follow the sound of the weeping man-child and true enough, you see your baby brother lying on the bed with his right leg nestled on pillows, ice taped on the swollen ankle.

You rush to his side and assess if there’s any other part that’s being treated. “What the hell happened to you?” You worriedly ask. “Is this because of work? God, Jimin. I told you that company overworks you! You don’t even get enough rest.”

Behind you, you could hear muffled laughter, and paired with your brother’s sheepish smile, you could already tell he got it over something silly. He’s avoiding your gaze, causing your worry to turn to frustration. 

You cross your arms and you give him a stern look. “Park Jimin, look at me and tell me what happened.”

He plays with the hem of the blanket draped over him and with a sickly sweet smile, the one he uses on you to get himself out of trouble, he says, “I may have drank and perhaps had my foot stuck in a gutter and I may also have moved about when Jungkook told me to stay still and well…” Arms laid out before him as if in presentation, “here I am!” 

He’s beaming, as if it’s something to be proud of. You know it’s his tactic but still, your brother’s ability to go from one reaction to another astounds you.

You turn to Jungkook for confirmation and he nods at the accuracy and absurdity of the situation, causing a worried feeling in the pit of your stomach because how the hell are you going to explain this to your parents? 

“You forgot the part about you screaming that you hate men and you don’t want to love anymore,” Jungkook adds. It’s classic Jimin that it actually makes you laugh. 

You, as his older sister and Jungkook, as his best friend of 15 years, should be used to this already but your brother is plucked from a classic romcom as the hot mess character and that carries with it amusement and predictability.

You're about to ask for an elaboration to put more context in the scene that’s playing in your head of a crying Jimin flailing his arms and a bemused but laughing Jungkook trying to shut him up, when the doctor comes in. 

She checks the clipboard then on Jimin. 

“Thankfully, there’s nothing broken,” she says, jotting down on a pad. She starts instructing how to properly wrap the ankle, prompting Jungkook to stand next to you and Jimin to nip at his fingernails because the brat won’t even pay attention to how to care for his own injured foot. 

After handing you the prescription, the doctor tells Jimin, “We’ll just wrap you up with a cast and give you the crutches then you can head home.”

“So I’m not staying?” He asks.

“No need,” the doctor clarifies. “It’s just sprained but it will take several weeks to properly heal and it will be sore for a while,” she states, then calls a nurse and instructs him to prepare the supplies. 

“You said you’re a dance instructor? The injury was aggravated by previous mild sprains so I require complete rest. You absolutely cannot move. Just stay in bed and follow the instructions I’ve written down.”

You and Jungkook release a sigh of relief, thankful that it’s nothing serious, the concern over what prompted his outburst temporarily at the back of your mind, until Jimin speaks up.

“But, something else feels broken.”

“What is it?” The doctor asks, suddenly worried and checks the board for anything she might’ve missed.

“My heart.”

“Yah!” You smack Jimin’s arm in embarrassment, which he returns with a smack on yours, a common sight for you both and Jungkook who’s bared witness to the violence you and your brother inflicted upon each other growing up.

The doctor rolls her eyes. “She’ll come back,” she says, then heads towards the door.

Jimin scrunches his nose in annoyance. “She’s a he, by the way!” He shouts, causing the others present to turn to him, as if such a situation is scandalous. 

“Do… you have a boyfriend I don’t know about?” You nervously ask. 

While your 3-year gap sibling relationship is rooted in violence that’s caused bruises, buckets of tears, timeouts, and your parents almost giving up on making you two get along at many points of your lives, you and Jimin have somehow grown up and have found the right balance of telling each other important things while also staying out of each other’s business. 

The “growing up” only happened midway through his college life, when he realized that even with his best friend next to him, you were still his lifeline in the big city of Seoul and the only other reminder of home. 

Because even with him knowing what it takes to make it in the competitive entertainment industry as a choreographer, in his heart, he’s still the younger child who’s used to being taken care of. That meant regularly demanding your presence in his dorm when he was still studying and then crashing your place when he’d started working. For food, mostly. The ranting about things just came naturally after.

“It’s Tae,” he shyly reveals, meeting your eyes for the first time and suddenly, he’s your little brother again, the one whose snacks you used to prepare or whose wounds you used to treat when your parents weren’t home or were too tired from work.

“Your roommate?”

“Yeah. He left today because he got this photography gig where he gets to travel the world.”

“I didn’t know you had a thing,” you say.

“We didn’t,” he huffs out in frustration. “I didn’t know I liked him until he said he booked a one-way ticket and didn’t know when he'd be coming back. And he was so excited and I was really happy for him but also felt like it was too late. Like should I have said anything? What if he felt the same way? Would he have stayed?” He sighs, looking sullen this time.

“He may have, or he would still be taking the trip. Regardless, no one should be giving up on dreams for anybody, Chim. That’s not how it’s supposed to work,” you say, not meaning to sound as if you’re reprimanding him, but the look he gives is enough to tell you that he understands. He’s heard variations of that same sentiment before, anyway. 

Jungkook feels the tension in the air and breaks it by stating that he’ll be driving everybody home.

“I’ll be staying with my sister,” Jimin announces, his annoying smile now back, and he knows you can’t say no; by obligation or by choice, you won’t tell.

“There goes my weekend,” you gripe. 

“I won’t be a nuisance, I promise,” he says then crosses his heart, like it actually means anything.

“You’re a nuisance even when you’re not injured, what more now?”

“I’m not that bad,” he defends.

“Oh, but you are.” You turn to Jungkook. “You know, I actually tried to push him back in our mom’s vagina but even her uterus didn’t want him anymore.”

“Ouch okay, I will pretend I didn’t hear that,” and you all laugh as Jimin is transferred to the wheel chair and pushed by the nurse, signaling Jungkook to go ahead and retrieve his car.

**

You arrive at your apartment with a Jimin-clad Jungkook in tow, the worry of not having cleaned up quickly dissipating because this is your brother, and he shouldn’t complain. 

Jungkook assists Jimin in the bathroom while you set up your bed by piling up pillows for his foot. 

“I don’t have clean sheets for the sofa bed in the other room,” you say, “and it’s not cleaned up, as I didn’t expect to house an injured child this weekend. Just sleep on my bed first.”

Jungkook guides Jimin to your bed and helps him settle in, with your brother looking all smug with the treatment he’s getting because he knows you don’t give up your bed that easily.

“What about you?” Jungkook asks, seemingly more worried about your inconvenience than the actual cause of it.

“I’m fine with the couch. Wouldn’t wanna sleep here with him and accidentally hit his foot. He might murder me or something.”

“Thanks, Sis. I’m very comfortable here. I think I’ll be sleeping well tonight,” Jimin states, then yawns, drowsiness kicking in from the medication.

You roll your eyes and close the door. You lead Jungkook to your kitchen and offer him a drink.  

“I’m sorry for him, Kook. Did he drag you out of work?” You ask. 

“Just had to call the tattoo parlor and reschedule my Friday appointments,” he says, downing the glass of water. “He was pretty emotional over the phone and wanted to drink at 4PM and well, you know the rest.”

“Ugh, such a pain in the ass,” you mutter, massaging your temples. “But was he serious about the whole Tae thing?”

“Seemed like it. I think it just took an abrupt change for him to realize what he felt,” he explains. “But you know him - falls fast, moves on faster. He’ll be okay. You’re here,” he continues, flashing you his bunny smile, the one that used to cause you to pinch his puffy cheeks out of cuteness. 

But that’s when he was a lanky 10-year old with his awkward front bangs. The man in front of you now sports long dark locks and a sharp jawline, tattooed arms and probably a built figure, if the way he carried your brother as if he’s a feather is any indication of his strength. His bambi eyes, usually scrunched large nose, and child-like smile are the only things that remain from that memory of him. 

“You know I can’t stand my brother for long periods of time, Kook,” you pout, earning you an amused laugh.

“He actually already invited me over the weekend, asked me to bring my PS4 so we could play.”

“That bitch has to rest, what is he talking about?” 

“Same thing I told him. I’ll just make up some reason that my player caught fire or that I dropped it while running or something.”

You give him a straight face. “The hell would he buy that? You can just not bring it.”

“I’m just gonna match his drama,” Jungkook shrugs, earning him your laugh, which for him is all tones of sweet and soothing. 

A smile forms on his face at the thought of making you laugh like this, something he secretly enjoys. This particular sound would most likely be etched in his mind, among the several others that he caused. 

There was that time when you caught him doing chubby bunny as a consequence and seeing him stuffed with marshmallows made you secretly giggle because 15-year old you didn’t want to indulge in their silly antics; Jungkook heard it though. 

There was that other time during Jimin’s 14th birthday at an arcade, Jungkook went over the basketball game’s railing to get the highest score and you alternated between scolding him and laughing your butt off. He snuck the tickets he won in your pile though so you would have enough to get the Tinkerbell tea set because he knew your obsession with fairies.

When you visited home for their high school graduation, you all cooked dinner and he overdid the glazed sweet potatoes, causing them to get stuck on the plate. You tried to hold your laugh but gave up once he started dancing; he was so embarrassed but that’s when he knew he’d willingly make a fool of himself to hear you laugh like that. 

And 3 years ago, your large group of friends went on a ski trip. He was attempting to run up the slope but kept sliding, and even from a distance, he could pick out which laughter was yours; it was probably the only remedy to an otherwise heartbreaking weekend, considering that you were there with your then-boyfriend, Namjoon. 

Reminiscing those causes his heart to feel like floating, like always, then the words “nobody dates my sister” pulls that heart down to crash into reality, like always, too, the reality being that you’re his best friend’s older sibling. 

You’ve been off-limits since Jimin threatened Jungkook and their other friends about cutting off their dicks if anybody tried to date you when they were 16, but you were probably off-limits even before that. Jungkook mentally shakes his head. 

He doesn’t like being told what to do but then again, Jimin is his best friend, the tiny feisty 10-year old who fought off the bullies who tried to take Jungkook’s snacks. It had been them against the world since then, and so far, the only person he thinks who’d ever come between them is you.

Jungkook is pulled out of his thoughts at your call of his name, prompting you to repeat what you just said.

“I said, thanks again for being there for my brother like, ever since. If it was just me I would’ve disowned him a long time ago.”

Jungkook giggles, already used to the drama that is your sibling relationship. He’d witnessed too many wrestling matches, scream fests, and pulled pranks in the last 15 years. While you’ve both gone past those, your complaints about each other is something you haven’t really outgrown yet. 

“Well, I’m glad you didn’t disown him,” Jungkook chuckles, the words ‘he’s the only link I have to you’ quickly dissipating in his mind. 

“You know he just craves your attention and riling you up is the way he does it, younger sibling and all. I would’ve done that if my brother wasn’t 7 years older. Jimin tends to be immature around you but he’s the best person I know. I wouldn’t have survived anything if it weren’t for him.”

This brings a smile to your face, their origin story warming your heart more than you care to admit. Your brother is fierce and a fighter, you’d give him that.

“Well, he’s just as lucky to have you, Kook.”

It’s the tenderness in your voice that makes him feel like he’d just won a prize, and he wishes you don’t notice the flush of his cheeks. If you do, you don’t mention it, because not long after, you say that you’ll wash up, signaling him that it’s time to go. 

Jungkook drives home that night feeling like his pre-adolescent self, the giddy feeling of when you first pinched his cheeks the same one he feels right now. It’s when he first developed his crush on you - you’d been arguing with Jimin and said you wished he was as behaved and as adorable as Jungkook, prompting your brother to point out Jungkook’s large nose, which you responded with by saying it adds to his charm. 

Petty fights, like always, but it’s when you told him to not listen to what other people say if they’re out to put him down did Jungkook realize that you and Jimin were cut from the same cloth. 

Soon after, every little moment with you, every glimpse of your life outside of being his best friend’s sister became more and more enthralling to him. The fact that you were getting prettier each year just served to solidify his affection for you. And also made it difficult to hide his hard-on every time you’d show up for breakfast in your cloth shorts when he’d sleep over your parents’ house, or when he’d see you in your pretty outfits in the bars you all frequented once he was in Seoul for college. 

He’d let himself think of you during the times he wasn’t in a relationship, and he’d slowly let go of the bit of hope he’d have every time you were in one, partly because your relationships were usually long-term, compared to his, and also because your ex-boyfriends were nothing like him, which is safe to say that he wasn’t your type. 

Maybe it was the age, the level of maturity, maybe it was the sense of security, maybe he’s just not the kind of guy who could give you what you want, although honestly he doesn’t know exactly what that is. 

But if Namjoon - your intelligent, upstanding, businessman ex-boyfriend who was also really handsome and kind - and your subsequent heartbreak are anything to go by, then Jungkook is clearly reaching for the stars with you. Not that you’re out of his league, but he’s more like in the outskirts, just lying in the edges, the border between what’s possible and what isn’t, but definitely far from the center of action. Even tonight, the most time you’d spent together in years that wasn’t in a party, was because Jimin had been hurt. 

If anything, though, his long standing admiration for you hadn’t really gone away. And he doesn’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.

**

The weekend with Jimin staying with you wasn’t that unbearable, primarily because he was rendered immobile on your bed and was usually sleepy. You were thankful that Jungkook dropped by to keep your brother company while you caught up on errands and chores. 

With another work week coming filled with meetings and events, you had Jimin stay with Jungkook first. He insisted it wasn’t a bother; his work as a freelance artist and a part-time tattooist gives him control of his time.

It’s the weekend after the incident when you hear a knock on the door, not expecting to see Jimin with his casted ankle and crunches; behind him are 3 large luggages and a few boxes. 

You’re just about to process the sight before you when he says, “I got sacked from the company when I said I couldn’t get back to work next week. And I can’t afford to pay rent anymore, even if I get a roommate and I…” he turns to you, almost shameful, “I have nowhere else to go.”

You sigh because really, your relationship with your brother is hinged on fights you don’t really mean, pettiness that drives you crazy, and an unconditional love that you both deny but undeniably share. So you open the door wider and laugh at his “you’re the best sister in the world” claim and your usual response of “you only have one.”

Jungkook arrives with the last box and you help bring in all the stuff that seems never-ending, making you wonder how these fit in his car and how he managed to bring everything, including your brother.

“Park Jimin, you have so much stuff! You might as well have hired a mover,” you cry out.

“Oh I did,” Jimin answers, pointing to Jungkook.

You cock an eyebrow because obviously, movers get paid. 

“I told him you said you’re gonna make us dinner.”

“Except I didn’t,” you scrunch your eyebrows and turn to Jungkook, amused at his sudden change of expression, bambi eyes widening at his innocence. 

“I swear, he seemed so convincing,” Jungkook claims, hands held up as if in surrender. He bites his lips and looks at the ground. “I can just go, really. I’ll just force him to treat me to lunch when he’s healed and I can wrestle him if he doesn’t.”

“Don’t be silly, Kook. Stay for dinner,” you crack a smile. You walk to your kitchen and take out the pork belly to thaw. “I won’t make you steak though. That’s reserved for my wine nights when I want to bask in my singleness,” you call out. 

“Also,” you turn to Jimin, “you don’t deserve my steak.”

Your brother laughs, knowing that it’s your way to mask the kindness you’re showing. 

Later that night, with dinner out of the way and your spare bedroom set up for Jimin to stay, you guide him to the sofa bed and make sure his foot is elevated, bell just within his reach that you instructed him to ring when he needs you. 

“Thanks, ___. You—”

“Are the best sister in the world, I know,” you cut him off.

“I was gonna say you should get some rest and to not worry about me. I’ll be fine,” he smiles.

You nod and head out the room, the worried look on your face not going unnoticed by Jungkook, who’d just finished wiping the dishes.

“Everything okay, ___?” 

You heave out a sigh.

“What the fuck am I gonna do with him, Kook?” You ask, the reality of your injured and now unemployed brother dawning on you. “What am I gonna tell my parents?” 

Oddly enough, it’s when you and Jimin were finally adults did your parents think to check up on you both. Perhaps living under the same roof didn’t warrant that, but with both children now living independently hundreds of miles away from them, they’ve ensured to call every week. Your conversations mostly revolve around Jimin, though, the words “take care of your brother” not having an expiration date, apparently. 

You know the weight of the words - it’s not just because you’re older but because by your parents’ standards, you’re also the more stable and financially secure one by nature of your 9-5 corporate job in a fancy building that requires you to wear corporate attires, in contrast to Jimin’s late-nights in a dance studio busting moves in sweats. 

Your parents are partial to your kind of work, given that they’ve spent more than half their lives in the same field and always wished you’d both do the same, even if you promised yourself you wouldn’t give in to the world that took so much of your parents’ time from you. 

Much as you want to believe you’re just doing your job as the older child by entering the industry, you were too much of a people-pleaser who just wanted to make her parents proud. 

Jimin, on the other hand, was smart enough to only apply to the performing arts programs of prestigious universities in Seoul and was good enough to actually land a scholarship in the same school as you; your parents were backed in a corner and couldn’t do anything. 

You’d never tell Jimin but you always admired him for that; it takes a lot to stand up to your parents without actually standing up to them. You’re just glad that between the both of you, someone was brave enough to go for what they genuinely wanted.

“Tell them the truth?” Jungkook shrugs. “I mean, what’s the worst that could happen?”

“You act like you don’t know what my parents are like.”

True, Jungkook thinks, but he also knows things have improved on their end. “Well, if anything, they’re more receptive now. They would congratulate Jimin on the choreographies they’d see those idol groups dance. They ask him about work, too.”

You smile at the thought, something your brother never mentioned, but you can imagine how happy that might’ve made him. Jimin, as you’ve found out, is a sweetheart to his friends - affectionate in all ways and very expressive - something he isn’t to you and your parents. The same can be said about you, and you soften at the thought that you and Jimin really aren’t that much different from each other. 

Jungkook picks up on the thoughts going through your head. “He probably didn’t tell you because you know him, he’d go all soft if he does, and Jimin has this persona when it comes to you. And it isn’t the soft one.”

“Goes both ways, I guess.”

“It’s not the end of the world, and he doesn’t seem to think so. He’s going to be fine.”

**

Jimin, in all sense of the word, is not fine. It took a few days until he cracked. He went from being an obedient patient who followed the doctor’s order of staying in bed, to one who constantly walked around and complained that he had nothing to do. 

Going on dating apps makes him sad, looking at job openings makes him sad, not being able to move and dance makes him sad. And your heart breaks for him, knowing what it’s like to lose your sense of direction and motivation at the loss of something or someone important. You allow him to let out his frustrations, though, listen to him when he rants, feed him his favorite food, and call Jungkook over with his PS4 that isn’t actually broken.

In fact, calling Jungkook has been your go-to, especially when you’re running out of things to say to comfort Jimin. Most times it’s really just so they could play PS4 together, prompting Jungkook to leave it at your place so Jimin could stay preoccupied and not feel too down when the job lists come up empty. He tires easily though, and it’s after he’s been tucked in bed that you usually settle for a cup of tea in the kitchen, Jungkook now the one listening to you talk.

It usually starts with the topic of Jimin, followed by some memory from your childhood that you and Jungkook get hysterical over, followed by a story about your work, and then a story about his. His stories are more interesting though. He shows you the paintings and digital pieces he makes for clients, and tells you amusing bits about his tattooing gig like amusing patterns and memorable customers. 

Hearing all this sends warmth through you because of how much he’s grown. While you’re only 3 years older, you met Jungkook when he was a shy 10 year-old, a complete opposite to you and Jimin’s naturally sociable selves. He went from smiling sheepishly to joking around and giving you high-fives in the 5 years before you went to Seoul to study.

Of course he’s grown when he followed your brother to the same university, having seen him with different girls, going to the same parties because your friends had taken a liking to him, and attending his art exhibitions. He went from greeting you under his breath to calling out to you at a bar while he’s surrounded by his peers. 

This was the kid who used to follow your brother around - even joined the dance club in high school - and would dunk his head in water if you asked him to, but now he’s forged his own path, doing what he loves, and enjoying every bit of his time that he controls. 

Personally, you’re also just happy that he can be available for your brother and for you, too, seeing that the nights you used to spend forcing yourself to sleep are now spent in good conversation with him. 

He’s also gotten way more attractive in the past few years, something you’ve only noticed now. Perhaps it has much to do with the physical closeness when you talk - your kitchen bar isn’t that long, anyway - where you’re able to pay more attention to his defined jawline, his dark eyes that anybody could get lost in, the curve of his nose, and the perfectly-placed beauty marks on his face. Come to think of it, maybe Jungkook has always been handsome, but you stop your thoughts before they go anywhere restricted.

It’s one Saturday night when you arrive home, after having drinks with your friends, to a very drunk Jimin and a tipsy Jungkook, gorging on fried chicken. Just thinking of cleaning up is already giving you a headache, which is aggravated by your brother’s drunk singing of classic yet cringey sad love songs. 

“Yah! Look at the mess you’ve made,” you smack Jimin’s arm, pointing to the chicken crumbs on the floor. “And alcohol, seriously? You can barely walk properly and now you’re drinking?”

“I’m injured, unemployed, homeless, and heartbroken. Leave me alone,” is all he says, then proceeds to belt out an insanely high note that pierces your ears and which causes Jungkook to laugh, used to this already and may have been enduring this the past hour or so. 

“He’s been like this for the past 4 hours,” Jungkook says. 

“And you let him?”

At the final high note, Jimin passes out on the couch, body limp over the empty space to his left.

“He wanted to drink his frustrations away, thought it might help,” Jungkook responds.

You sigh in annoyance but think he’s right, too. Jimin was out drinking his frustrations the night he got injured but at least now he’s doing it in the safety of your home. 

“I guess,” you shrug. “Can you take him to his room before he severs his neck?”

Jungkook laughs but follows. He carries Jimin over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and you pretend to not look hot and bothered at how easily he could carry your dead-weight brother. 

You follow to the room shortly and place an aspirin and orange juice on the side table, knowing it’s Jimin’s hangover drink. You remove the strands of hair that have stuck to his forehead and tuck him under the covers. 

Jungkook looks at you fondly; for someone who always claims you should’ve disowned her brother, you sure have a very affectionate way of showing it.

You step out of the room and take in Jungkook’s tipsy state, red cheeks and glassy eyes giving him away. 

“You should stay,” you tell him. “You drank and I doubt you’d sober up anytime soon, but try anyway.”

He nervously accepts but not for the reasons you think. He’s nervous because aside from those sleepovers at your house when you were younger, this is the first time he’s sleeping under the same roof as you, and that makes him giddy but anxious at the same time. He hopes you don’t catch him mid-dream saying your name; that would be too awkward to explain.

He goes back to the living room post-shower, a blanket and large pillow on the couch and you, tucked in the corner with a glass of juice. 

“Did you want to sleep already? I can go to my room if you are.”

“No, it’s okay. I’m not that sleepy yet, you can stay.” 

He refuses your offer of a drink. Unsure of the appropriate distance from you now that there’s space to go around, he settles on the other end of the couch. You smile at him as he sinks on the corner and he smiles back as you take baby sips from the glass. You both settle in comfortable silence, appreciating the quiet as a reprieve from the mind-numbing noise from earlier. 

You take a big gulp and he couldn’t hold the chuckle at your wide eyes hidden behind the glass. 

“So I’m guessing your hangover drink is apple juice?” He asks, not missing the similarity with your brother.

“Yeah. Jimin hates it so I’m sure he’ll never take it. He used to finish all the orange juice at home and I was mad because I wanted orange juice, too,” you say with a pout. Jungkook’s heart skips a beat at how adorable you look and goes for an ah, that’s why face because he remembers you fighting Jimin over it before.

“So you just switched to apple juice?”

“Yeah, pretty much. It’s really good. I thought he’d switch too just to annoy me but he said he really doesn’t like it.”

“Look at you two, being all civilized for once,” Jungkook teases. You throw a pillow at him and laugh at his comment, but you don’t disagree.

“Yah! We’ve always been civilized, okay?” 

“Now that is a lie. May I remind you of the time you two wrestled in front of me over a piece of pop tart. How you tackled him to the ground and he pulled your hair and the innocent treat was crushed in the process.”

“Hey, I was 15 and I called dibs on the strawberry!”

“Or that time you both wanted to watch different movies and had me choose and I felt like I was signing a death sentence either way? But it didn’t matter because you still got into a pillow fight?”

“His choices were always so boring!”

“Or that time when…”  You throw him another pillow. 

“Yeah, yeah. I get it. We weren’t always civilized,” you give up, laughing so hard with him at the memories. “You witnessed the worst parts of us, huh?”

“I didn’t really have a choice, did I?” Jungkook cocks an eyebrow. 

“Well, you were the only one who stayed. The rest of your friends would run out once Jimin and I started going at it.” 

He laughs at this because if only you knew why he always stayed. He actually liked that you’d let him referee you two, he felt wanted. 

“Hmm, it takes a lot to handle the Park siblings, I don’t blame them.”

“Wow, Jeon Jungkook. Calling out your elder. Where is this bravery coming from?” You tease.

“I drank, remember?”

“Not much though.”

He shrugs. He doesn’t know, too, but he likes seeing you look flustered. “Enough liquid courage, I guess.”

You deem his answer satisfactory but it does make you recall all those petty fights growing up. 

“Sorry you had to witness all that,” you say, giving him a shy smile. “Our personalities were always just clashing and it was harder not to fight each other.”

“I think you two are just so similar, that’s why.” 

You look at Jungkook, eyes wide at the statement you’d only ever thought to yourself. 

“He thinks the world of you, you know?” He continues, sensing your now serious demeanor. “He used to tell the mean older kids that you’re his sister and you’ll fight them if they hurt him because he just knows you’d protect him no matter what.” 

You laugh and roll your eyes but Jungkook knows you agree.

“For schoolwork, he would always write about you as his role model or the person he looks up to.” Jungkook doesn’t miss how your eyes soften at this. “He never found out that I knew but I’ve read parts, how he wanted to be strong and kind like you, to be independent and smart and hardworking like you.”

Maybe it’s the remnants of alcohol, or this apple juice is just fucking delicious but you’re getting emotional.

“And honestly, I don’t think that’s changed. He’ll always look up to you, whether he’ll say it or not.”

And there goes the water works, causing panic in Jungkook and he immediately goes to you. Noticing your non-movement, he uses the edges of his hoodie to wipe the tears that have begun flowing from your eyes. He stills for a moment but seeing how you haven’t pushed him away, he continues. 

You look up at him with watery eyes and quivering lips. Somehow you should be embarrassed but something about Jungkook having seen the worst of you and being nothing but a huge help these past few weeks, you feel safe. No judgment whatsoever, just an air of understanding and care.

“Why are you telling me this?” You ask, and Jungkook feels weak at how you look. He didn’t mean to make you sad but all he wants to do now is hug you until you feel better.

“Because you’ve been so worried and so hard on yourself, as if it’s only your burden to carry.”

You try to object but he cuts you. “Jimin’s an adult. He’s crying and drinking and sulking but that’s normal. He’ll be fine and get himself together. I know that. Even he knows that. You know why? Because it’s what he’s seen you do.” Jungkook wipes another stray tear.

“Whether it’s a breakup or a work thing, he’s seen you take hits but never back down, never let anybody walk all over you, never let them take away the best parts of you. He’s struggled before, too, but he always got back up.”

“He’s good and strong that way,” you reply softly.

“Like I said, he has a good role model,” he smiles, nudging your shoulder. 

It’s meant to be playful but it’s comforting for you, and you’re leaning on his shoulder before you know it, ignoring the way he briefly stills at your action. 

“You’re a good person, Kook. We’re lucky to have you.”

You’re so close to him and he can feel the heat radiate from you. It’s too quiet that he’s afraid you’d hear the thrumming of his heart, from your words and the affection behind your still head on his shoulder. The situation calls for it, he thinks, so he lays his hand on your back and rubs circles on it.

He’ll chalk it up to liquid courage again if you ask, but you don’t. Instead you snuggle closer, chasing his warmth. He swears he could pass out with just this, but he tortures himself more by holding you even closer and he swears, even with his thick hoodie, he could feel your smile.

**

Over a month since the gutter incident - as you like to call it - you, Jimin, and Jungkook have found a pattern of cohabitation, and yes, that includes Jungkook, seeing as how he’s become a staple in your household and your life. 

At some point, Jimin had sulked less and would spend his time watching dance videos to remind himself of the feeling, even if it was just virtual. He’d even expanded his choice of employment by checking job openings as a fitness instructor and a ballet teacher for children. 

He’d also done his regular foot exercise once the pain became bearable. Still unemployed and heartbroken though, he’s been shameless in making your place his own home, with most of his belongings now removed from their boxes, and inviting Jungkook over any time, any day. Not that you minded though, since he’s been nothing but a literal angel.

Living in a studio on his own, Jungkook usually has ramen or street food as dinner, which is why Jimin used to invite him over his shared apartment with Taehyung so that Jungkook could at least have home cooked meals every once in a while. 

It’s why he’s often over your place on weeknights he doesn’t have a shift at the tattoo parlor. That and because Jimin still wants him over to play video games. Jungkook brings food over or pays for delivery though, and you welcome the initiative. 

On weekends, you’re all busy doing your own thing in the living room together, which carries over to movie nights. The young ones pass up on their friends’ invites to a party while you, well, your friends would rather spend their weeknights with their partners instead. So your night of basking in your singleness now means doing so with your brat of a brother and his dependable best friend.

It’s a Saturday afternoon when you get home from doing errands and you find both men in your living room, with Jimin reading a book on some dancer’s biography and Jungkook busy on his laptop. Your brother’s face pops on the screen and you decide it’s not a personal matter so you plop next to Jungkook on the floor and softly rest your chin on his shoulder, something you’ve maybe done once or twice before.

“What you up to?” You ask, an impressed look on your face at the snippets of Jimin dancing, some of which you’ve never seen before. 

“I’m working on his application video,” he says, pointing to your brother. “Since he’s not able to dance when he tries for jobs, he thinks sending them a video to show his skills will help.”

“Oh, like a visual CV of some sort?”

“Yes!” Jimin states. “Want them to know what they’re missing out on, and that’s a lot.”

You roll your eyes but mentally agree; your brother is the most talented person you know. 

“Kookie’s been kind enough to work on it for me although he’s been on it for hours,” he continues, a playful smile on his face.

“Give him a break, Chim. He’s done so much for you already,” you say, getting your own laptop and setting it up on the table.

“Nah, it’s the least I can do. He’s helped me so much, ___.”

“He fought off your bullies 15 years ago…” You cock an eyebrow.

Jungkook chuckles. “Yes. And more. Helped me with school work, my confidence, my social skills…”

“Gave him tips to woo girls because he was too shy to ask them on dates,” Jimin adds.

“Hmm,” you mumble. “What you gotta be shy for? Just flash them your smile or show them your toned arms, they’ll probably jump on you right there,” you say nonchalantly, unaware of the way Jungkook’s heart stills at your comment.

“He doesn’t want them to jump on him, ___. He wants them to actually like him, or love, whatever. He’s a romantic, you know,” Jimin teases. “Would travel to the ends of the earth or fight to the death for the woman he loves, whoever she is,” he says matter-of-factly, unaware of the way Jungkook’s breath hitches because if Jimin only knew.

“Aww, Kook. That’s cute,” is all you say, smile genuine though, he wishes he could see it everyday. But cute, really? That’s it?

He chooses not to dwell on it and instead asks you what you’re up to, to which you respond that it’s a presentation you have to work on. You’re frustrated at your lack of design eye and it looks so bare; you want it to look professional but still eye-catching.

“Maybe I can help!” Jungkook states.

But of course, you think. You’ve been accommodating an actual graphic designer in your home, surely it’s fair that he help you out, right?

“Yes please, Kook. I need to blow these people away with my smarts and my non-existent creativity,” you laugh. 

Jungkook sets aside his laptop, adoringly quick to prioritize helping you, and works on your presentation. He knows just the right color and font combo, even helping out on which details to include, what visuals to add, and how to make it exactly how you want. 

You’re amused at how easily he works on it. He's meticulous, working on the size of the texts and the angles of the patterns. Jimin chides him for his perfectionism but unbeknownst to both of you, Jungkook’s laser focus is a means of distraction with how physically close you’ve been to him the past hour, eyes flicking from him to the screen.

He wants this to last but also can’t wait for it to be over because of how nervous he is, especially with your constant praises for something really basic, but which he finds so charming all the same. 

Pretty soon he finishes and returns your laptop to you and retrieves his, quick to get back to work and focus on something else, which still proves futile once you remove your sweater to reveal a camisole underneath, and tie your hair on a high bun, thus exposing more of your shoulders and neck. 

He shakes off the tingles he feels, pretends to be completely unbothered by his attraction towards you that seems to intensify day-by-day. He looks forward to seeing you, and when he doesn’t, he yearns to. He’d been used to admiring you from afar but these past weeks showed that he has all the reasons to admire you even up close. 

You’re just as brilliant, feisty, and funny; sassy too like Jimin but in a captivating way, yet so kind-hearted just the same. 

The three of you settle in a comfortable silence, each busy with your own task at hand. With your knees touching Jungkook’s, your questions on any additions you make on the presentation, and him asking for your approval on the video (which he seeks, oddly enough from you and not from Jimin), your eventual quick agreement on dinner and your teamwork in preparing it, it all feels so familiar, like it’s home.

**

The next evening, you find yourself sandwiched between Jungkook to your right and Jimin to your left, who moved from his center seat to lie down, with half of his tiny body settled comfortably on top of you and Jungkook. Your brother insisted on watching “How to Be Single” tonight, like a slap to all your faces.

It’s during one of the scenes with the protagonist’s ex when Jimin randomly asks, “___, do you regret breaking up with Namjoon?”

It may seem like a question out of left field, but with everything that’s happened, Jimin has been quite reflective lately, particularly about love. He’s had his fair share of partners but unlike you, is more a feeler than a thinker; gets out of relationships as fast as he gets into them; takes it one day at a time whereas you always have to consider the future. 

You don’t need to ponder on the question; you’ve gone through this multiple times with your best friends but never really with your brother. 

“Sometimes. But there was too much on the line and it was unfair to both of us if we carried on.” You sigh, recalling the moment you both decided it wouldn’t work. “It was something we had to do but doesn’t mean it hurt any less.”

Jimin hums, thinking back to the days he’d barge in your apartment and ask for leftovers when really, he just wanted to be near you so you had someone to cry to, just in case. That was over 2 years ago and it took you a year to finally say that you were over the relationship. He used to note your choice of words - “I’m over us,” never “I’m over him.” 

Next to you, Jungkook is picking on his nails, unsure if he should be part of the conversation. He’d heard about the break up since you had common friends. It was quite the shock, knowing how you and Namjoon were. 

You pick up this nervous habit, aware that he might not know what really happened. It wasn’t a secret but there was more to the story. 

“We just wanted different things,” you say then turning to both of them, “so you two better make sure you’re on the same page with the person you date, talk about what lies ahead, what you want, what you’re willing to compromise and what you aren’t.”

“That’s good advice, yeah Kookie?” Jimin says. 

“Why you focusing on me?” Jungkook asks. 

“You’re the one focused on the dating, not the settling. You avoid those conversations.”

“You don’t want to settle?” You ask, now curious. You’ve seen him with girlfriends but thinking back now, his relationships never really lasted.

“It’s not that,” he glares at Jimin. “I’m more of a live-in-the-moment kind of guy. Thinking about the future is great, I mean, any mature individual does that, it’s just…” 

He heaves out a sigh, hoping he’s not shooting himself in the foot with his statement. “What good is the future if you don’t take care of what you have right now? Isn’t the present more important because it’s what’s assured? The future is literally dependent on that, so the now is what I want to focus on.” 

He rests his head on the couch, nervous of your reaction. He knows you’re a planner, needs to see things far ahead to know what to do. 

There’s no one way to go about life, he acknowledges that. He just doesn’t want you to think he’s not a serious guy. With his developing feelings for you, not seeing him as a potential partner is literally the worst thing that could happen.

Jimin continues with the movie he paused but in your mind, all you could think about was what Jungkook said. If you and Namjoon hadn’t obsessed about the future, would things have been different? Would you still be together? 

The sinking feeling comes at the realization that maybe they still wouldn’t. What if your ‘present’ with him then wasn’t good enough in the first place? That the “could be” was more exciting than the “what is”? Suddenly there’s clarity, you just don’t know if it’s the good kind. 

Still, it doesn’t keep you from sinking further down the couch until you’re leaning on Jungkook’s shoulder. And like the few times that you have, there’s a comforting feeling in the act. 

“You must’ve made your ex-girlfriends really happy, huh Kook?” You ask, head shuffling near his upper arm. “Focusing on the present and the moments and all that.” 

You wish it was something you did, but Namjoon was just like you. 

“I guess you could say that,” he answers shyly. 

“But that was just it though, right Kook?” Jimin says. “Made them happy but not enough to fall in love.”

This prompts you to look at him, wide eyes full of questions. “How come?”

He turns to you and if he tried enough, Jimin right behind you would blur and there’s just you, overhead light illuminating the best parts of your face which is, well, everything. You’re absolutely breathtaking. 

And at your question - how come he never fell in love - comes his own realization. For all of his talk of living in the moment, tucked in the corner of his mind is the thought of the future he’s only ever dreamed about, the one that he’s always wanted, well, with you. 

“I - I actually don’t know.”

**

Adopting your brother, and by extension Jungkook, isn’t as bad as you expected. Sure, Jimin is still a diva and annoys you just because he wants to, but he makes you laugh more, compliments your cooking more, and encourages you to go out and have fun. Most times you do, but if you’re being honest, you’ve been enjoying time spent with him and Jungkook more.

Your movie and PS4 nights are chaotic and only egos are harmed. You and Jungkook help Jimin with job hunting, monitor his practice dancing, and watch dance videos with him. Two months since the gutter incident, you’ve gone to the park, the beach, and the river, perfected making choco-walnut cookies, and built fairy houses. 

Your days are more tiring yet satisfying, as if your apartment actually feels like a sanctuary, save for Jimin’s provocation leading to your bickering, but even that has become a welcome addition in your daily life as well.

Jungkook though is altogether a different story. You two have gone grocery shopping together more than once, had spent some mornings on a run, and some weeknights he even picks you up from work then you both grab some of Jimin’s favorite food for dinner. Those are on top of the many nights you’ve spent drinking whatever in the living room, bidding him goodnight either out the door or on your couch. You’re not exactly sure what to make of the giddiness but you shut down whatever unusual feeling there is before they start to mean anything more.

**

It started with a missed deadline, then an oversight of a risk, then your workmate Chul getting the last laugh. Sometimes, no matter how good you think things are going, all it takes is an extremely bad week, made up of extremely bad moments, to make you doubt yourself. You think some more, then you end up doubting everything else.

Am I good enough for this job? Can I really make a career here? Is this what I really want? Is this going to make me happy? Why the fuck am I still single? It’s the sudden feeling of uncertainty that overwhelms you, makes you second-guess, and suddenly you’re not as stable and secure as you thought you were. 

It’s this feeling that you carry over the day after at your friend Jin’s and his wife’s baby shower. Between their growing family, Yoongi’s hit-making record label, Hoseok’s renewed contract as a travel show host, Yuri’s PhD, and Na-eun’s engagement to her college boyfriend, you feel so… lost. Like you’re just getting by, just letting time pass until there’s something big and meaningful to look forward to again, whatever that is. 

Of course your friends would never make you feel any less; that’s really on you, which is probably worse.

The party is on full swing; gifts have been given and time has come for full-on socializing where you all get to talk about how great your individual lives are. Except for you. And maybe Eun-ha on the corner who doesn’t seem to be happy being here, but that’s not your problem. 

Somewhere near the bar is Jungkook, beer in hand and clearly enjoying himself. He’s a staple in events like this and he fits right in with everyone else - self-assured, content, in control, and may be on his way to a date, seeing as how that pretty girl hasn’t left his side all afternoon. Not that you were monitoring, though. 

For once, you’re actually hoping Jimin was here so you can whine together, but the group he used to choreograph for invited him to their concert, so there’s that. 

You’re on your third glass of champagne when you head inside Jin’s enormous house, away from the laughter and obvious put-together lives of your friends, when you see him, the man who was once your embodiment of stability, of a “good and secure life,” as your parents had said. 

He sees you, flashes his dimple-bearing smile, and walks towards you, looking extremely good in a white polo and denim jacket, brown hair slicked back. 

“___!” He greets, his arms immediately engulfing you in a tight hug, providing you the physical warmth that you haven’t felt in a while. You sigh into him, your head on his firm chest, his now sturdier frame but a reminder of the time that's passed.

You linger, prompting him to gently stroke your back like he used to after a long day at work. 

“You needed this, huh?” He observes, voice low and comforting. 

You release yourself from his hold and look up at him, his sweet smile a contrast to his commanding presence. 

“Unfortunately,” you sigh.

“Boss still not giving you due credit? Colleagues still not making it any easier? Stress still at an all-time high?” He asks, and it’s either he still reads you so well or your problems - or you - haven’t changed one bit. 

“You’re just not your usual energetic self,” he continues. “I mean, I haven’t seen your genuine smile since you arrived.”

He’s been watching you? Somehow that sends heat to your cheeks and quickens your heartbeat. 

“Just tired, is all. Plus, Jimin’s been living at home after a little accident,” you finally respond.

His face makes this charming worried expression. “House already a makeshift wrestling ring?” He laughs.

“You’d be surprised at how little damage there is in my apartment. Safe to say we’ve grown up,” you say, wide smile finally adorning your face, which he returns. You haven’t felt this light the whole week. 

“It’s nice to see you again, Joonie.”

**

You and Namjoon find a spot in the large living room, with the 2-seater couch being the only one available, the physical closeness making it difficult not to be mesmerized by his gorgeous face. His laugh is still the same, the feel of his hand under yours is still the same; the attention he gives, his thoughtful and wise words, and ability to make you feel cared for haven’t changed. 

You’re smiling more, eyes sparkling for sure, and you can’t help the way your body reacts the way it does - knees chasing his, hand tucking your hair behind your ear, voice going a key higher.

He’s still the same confident and self-assured man that you fell in love with, that you once saw a life with. It’s almost intoxicating, the way he speaks, sees the world, sees himself. You could easily fall into this again, into the ideal, the safe and secure, the expected, the could be. You think of the reasons why it didn’t work out, of what you chose when you decided to call it quits. His phone rings. He excuses himself but you still hear him. And you’re reminded why.

“I’m sure the gown looks beautiful, love. I’ll leave the party soon and meet you and our parents at the wedding planners’ office. See you in a bit.”

Your heart should be breaking but it’s just your pride that does. 

“I’m sorry, it was my uh—“ he says, unsure.

“Your fiancé,” you smile, as if reminding him.

“Yeah it’s… it’s pretty recent and we uh… we’re planning to have it in 3 months,” he explains, eyes turning sullen, lips curling into an apologetic smile.

“Congratulations, Namjoon. I’m so glad you’re happy,” you say, hoping he picks up the sincerity in your voice. 

He sits across from you again, hand on top of yours, his smile hopeful, and for the first time, you see him struggle with what to say. So you don’t give him a chance to.

“What are you still doing here?” You playfully nudge him. “You have somewhere else to be.”

“You’ll be okay?” 

“Of course. Don’t worry about me.”

He lingers this time. Maybe in another life you would’ve worked out, you would’ve loved each other better, you would’ve fought for each other. But not in this. 

He leans forward and places a soft kiss on your forehead and you shut your eyes, absorbing all the words he wishes he could say. I’m sorry. I will always care about you. I hope you find your happiness, too. 

Your eyes follow him as he walks out the door, out to the woman who could definitely give him what you couldn’t. From across the room, a pair of eyes follows your movement too, the way it has since you entered the party four hours ago. 

**

Whatever worry you initially had about getting drunk at your friend’s baby shower is out the window. You don’t mind anymore, not with your 5th glass of champagne and your 3 shots of vodka because of course, it’s Jin. You laugh along with your friends although you’re too dazed to process what they’re saying. 

Your jaw is sore from laughing over things you don’t understand so you decide to head inside, maybe call it a night and take the drinking back to your place; at least you’d be in your pjs and not in a tight dress and heels.

You’re pulling open a door that just won’t budge and you exert what little energy you have, causing you to trip on yourself only to be held steady by strong hands on your waist.

“That’s a sliding door, ___,” the familiar voice says, tone low but still teasing. 

You turn around and meet chocolate eyes looking down at you and you stare back even in your embarrassment.

“I… I think I’m drunk,” you stutter. 

You’re met with laughter. “No shit, ___. Think I didn’t notice that?”

“I…” You say, looking down at the hands still holding onto you. 

He quickly removes them, worry painting his face and you wave him off before he could apologize.

“Let’s go to a bar, Jungkook.”

**

You reasoned your decreased alcohol tolerance to your friends, which they didn’t buy but waved you off without much fanfare. They probably sensed you were out of it for a while. Or probably saw the exchange with Namjoon, who knows. 

But you’re now at a bar eating chicken wings and fries like you’re about to run out of food, the guy next to you chuckling and reminding you to breathe every once in a while. 

You finish your meal quickly and pout when you realize he’s barely touched his food. 

“You’re not eating,” you state the obvious.

“Sorry, too entertained,” he laughs, the child-like sound now so familiar, you’d recognize it anywhere.

He’s just smiling at you and you feel so small under his gaze. He saw you talking with Namjoon, taking shots, and almost tripping earlier. He’s probably wondering who this person is; definitely not the one who’s been semi-housing him the past few months.

You bury your face in your hands. “I’m so embarrassed,” you cry out.

“Hey now,” he says, hands gently removing yours from your face. He stops the one tear before it falls off.

“God, how many times have I cried in front of you, Kook? This is humiliating.”

“No one’s counting though,” he states. “It’s your drinks I’m counting and I’m thinking maybe you’ve had enough.”

You nod and he orders a can of soda and a glass of water. With light chatter and glasses clinking in the background, you two fall in comfortable silence. He’s quietly picking on his food, eyes roaming the bar while yours flit from him to the space between you, somehow wishing it isn’t as wide as it is right now. 

“I had a bad week,” you finally say. He nods.

“My friends are all accomplishing so many things, achieving their dreams and I’ve been stuck in the same company for 5 years.” 

He nods again.

“I’m a 28 year-old who got drunk at a baby shower and flirted with her ex only to find out he’s engaged.” 

Jungkook pretends not to be affected at the confirmation that you were indeed flirting with Namjoon but he nods just the same.

“And?” He asks.

“And? I’m in a bar with you, and I cried, and I’m acting like a baby because I had a terrible week and ended up doubting everything and now think I can’t get my life together. I mean, between my brother I can’t properly help, a job I can’t seem to stand out in no matter how hard I try…” You release a deep breath. “And a relationship I couldn’t keep because I wasn’t enough and I…”

“Hey, don’t say that,” he says angrily. “You’re none of those things.”

“I wasn’t sure if I wanted to have kids. And Namjoon always wanted to be a father,” you blurt, the words not stinging as they used to.

This stuns Jungkook. Jimin had always mentioned it was a mutual breakup but never said anything more. Jungkook didn’t think it was because of this. 

“I thought I wanted a family, too. It was so easy to fall into the idea of that kind of life with him because he was the perfect person to have it with. But then one day I just started doubting it,” you sigh, recalling how hard you used to be on yourself for suddenly wanting something different.

“Sometimes I think, what if I gave myself more time, what if eventually I’d be sure?” You take a long breath. “But the uncertainty was too much and it wasn’t fair to him,” you huff. There was no blame game; you both knew it wasn’t anyone’s fault.

“Quite the dealbreaker, huh?” Jungkook wonders.

“Yeah but looking back, the other issues were just bubbling under the surface. The future was so enticing and we talked about it all the time, it seemed much more important than well, us,” you explain. 

“It was Jimin who made me realize that I hung onto Namjoon for the relationship, the potential, what it meant. He was the epitome of stability and I was the same for him but at some point, even that wasn’t enough.”

“So, earlier. Why did you, uhm,” he starts, hoping it doesn’t come out wrong.

“Flirt with him?”

Jungkook nods.

“Being with him used to make me feel like I had it together, you know? Like I had it figured out because he did and it was silly but I don’t know, maybe I wanted to trick myself into thinking that by being close to him in any way, I had it together.”

“You don’t need to have it together all the time. You just need to have it together enough.” His whole body turns to you.

“You had one bad week, we all do. But it’s over now, isn’t it? Your friends doing well in their careers? So are you. You know what not to compromise on, what to stand up for, which battles to fight. I’ve heard enough of your stories to know that there are people at work who respect you, look up to you. The way your friends, your brother, and I look up to you.”

Your lips are quivering, forcing yourself not to cry again tonight. He just always knows what to say. “That’s really sweet, Jungkook.”

“Thanks, but I wasn’t trying to be sweet. I was just being honest. You’re a lot of good things to people, ___. Isn’t that what matters? Being a little off at work and drinking then flirting with an ex don’t make you any less of a person. Okay? You’re allowed to slip up every once in a while.”

You let this sink in.

“Look at you, Jeon Jungkook. When did you get this wise? It’s like I just blinked then you’re all of a sudden so grown up.” You tease to keep yourself from breaking down.

“Like I told you, much of what I know, I got from Jimin. And what he knows, he got from you. Maybe try listening to yourself, yeah?” He smirks.

You nod, smile creeping on your face the same way all the heat is rushing to your cheeks. You feel comfortable like this, being vulnerable and sad and doubtful but he’s holding you close without touching you, making you feel safe with just his presence. In the now noisy bar, your bodies angling towards each other, and with his tender smile, you feel a type of intimacy you’ve never felt before. It’s reassuring yet enticing at the same time. And this scares you.

You both stay for another hour until you decide it’s time to head home. Jungkook had taken a cab, too in anticipation of drinking so you both decided to walk back to your apartment, knowing the couple of blocks would be enough to sober you up.

The streets are still alive with the nightlife just starting but the noise starts to tone down once you reach your neighborhood. The long walk is soothing, as Jungkook leaves you to your thoughts, except for the times he has to steady you because, well, your vodka shots are still in your system and a walk isn’t enough to flush them down. Still, you’re calm, a feeling of acceptance overtaking you.

“Thanks for tonight, Jungkook. I hope I didn’t ruin any potential date or anything just because I couldn’t get the door open,” you laugh. 

He raises an eyebrow.

“That, uh, girl seemed really into you,” you stammer. 

He chuckles, hands in his pockets and cheeks flushed at the implication of your observation. 

“That wasn't much, we were just chatting.” He turns to you. “I could see your scrunched eyebrows from where I was and thought you needed help,” he shrugs.

You sigh. He was always helpful, ever since he was a kid. 

“You know, you were always the good guy. Jimin’s other friends were so rowdy and immature. Yugyeom was always sprawled on the couch with his feet up like he owned the place; Sejun was always finishing our ice cream, and Sunghoon was such a flirt.” 

Jungkook laughs, recalling the times you were scolding all of them for messing up the house and being so annoyingly noisy and eating your snacks.

“You were always the well-behaved and mature one. Like, you barely engaged in their pranks and stupid boy talk. You’d rather watch it all unfold until it was too much and you’d help me in the kitchen always. I remember your glazed potatoes. God, that was so hilarious.”

“That was embarrassing.”

“It was funny! And adorable. You were always so kind.”

“Thanks but uh, I wasn’t trying to be kind. Well, sort of. I wanted to impress you. And I—” He doesn’t know where this is coming from but it’s like word vomit, especially now that you’ve started to walk more slowly and are looking at him. 

“It was an opportunity to be near you. Kinda wanted a lot of that back then. Even now, actually.”

You gulp, unsure of what to feel or how to react. You thought you were imagining his lingering looks, or how his eyes shone a tad brighter and his smile was a bit wider when you were around. But he’s not saying what he’s saying, right?

“I, uh. Well, maybe you look up to me like an older—“

“Don’t say sister because I never saw you as one,” he interrupts you, frustration laced in his voice as if the word is venom. “Not when I was a teenager, not in the years after, and especially not now.”

You hesitantly turn to him, his nervous face a contrast to the offended tone of his voice just seconds ago. He nibbles on his lips, a mannerism you noticed when he was a teenager who always seemed shy around you and would only relax after you talked to him. 

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles. I didn’t mean to sound angry. I just—“ 

“That was your angry tone?” You tease, your laugh affirming him that you’re not upset one bit, just… unsure. You’re flattered, definitely; he is a very attractive man. Still your brother’s best friend, though.

This eases him, but prompts him to test the waters.

“I’m a gentle boy, what can I say? Most times, at least,” he says, and you don’t miss the playful tone of this voice, his eyes peering down at you, making your breath hitch and your hands clammy.

You wrap yourself with your arms - really to wipe the sweat off because you’re feeling nervous - but Jungkook takes this differently, as anyone would, and immediately unzips his jacket and puts it on you.

You slow on your tracks and you feel even warmer. He follows your pace but urges you to speed up once he feels a droplet on his cheek. You’re glad you opted to wear low heels today, tiring your calves only a little but allowing you to walk fast enough until you’re on the steps of your apartment in time to miss the sudden downpour.

Well, Jungkook doesn’t because as he enters, a portion of his torso is wet, his black shirt sticking on his skin to tease you of his toned abs that you definitely will be thinking about tonight. Between that, his damp hair, and soaked veiny arm, you curse your mind for the images it’s currently making up. 

All he did was indirectly tell you he has a crush on you, right? Or did he? He doesn’t seem as bothered as you expected him to be if that was the case so maybe you misinterpreted? 

You can’t stand this wet version of him so you say you’ll get him a towel but are too flustered so you hit the wall as you turn towards the bathroom, eliciting a loud “ow!” 

“You okay?” He asks worriedly.

“Yeah, still drunk I guess,” you lie. He smirks and probably knows you’re lying. 

“I’ll take care of myself, don’t worry. Go wash up and get ready for bed.” 

“Are you ordering me around?” You ask, trying your best to reestablish yourself as the one in authority because you can’t take how this man is making you feel nervous and unsettled and not in control. 

“Do you want me to?” He simpers, flustering you even more. What is with him? 

You roll your eyes and trudge to your bathroom. You’re technically sober but with Jungkook’s looks, the sudden flirty tone of his voice, and his innuendos, you might as well be drunk again. 

You open the door and seconds later he’s by your bedroom, a glass of water in one hand and apple juice in the other. The bottle of aspirin is tucked under his arm by his rib and he asks you to get it and you think he's evil for testing you but you take it, acting unbothered. He follows you to your room and you don’t stop him. 

Glasses now on your bedside, you tuck yourself in. “Thank you, Jungkook.”

“For what?”

“For staying with me? Listening to me?” You test the waters, too. “For caring for me?” And his smugness disappears. Before you is a man, all strong and tough yet his smile is the tiniest, softest you’ve ever seen on him, and even from where you are, you could see the tips of his ears turn red. 

“I really appreciate everything,” you conclude, and you mean it.

He gathers himself before he looks you in the eyes. “Don’t worry about it. Anything you need, just tell me.” You nod. 

“Sleep well, ___.”

**

You don’t sleep well. In fact, even with the rain pouring outside, you feel so hot, you end up shedding your shorts. 

The closeness with Jungkook has been gradual and if anything, it’s been comfortable. You convince yourself what he has is probably just a little crush; convincing your heart to still is a different story. 

Jungkook, on the other hand, can’t stop smiling. He was testing the waters tonight, gauging how you would react to his flirtation and teasing. It was partly the alcohol but then you’d gone all shy and flustered; he thought it was worth a shot.

He was half expecting you to scold him like you used to do with Sunghoon, or berate him like those guys at work but you did neither. You don’t seem to hate him, even with his indirect confession to you, and that’s really better than what he’d hoped. 

**

You wake up dissatisfied with your sleep and take your hangover necessities; dealing with Jungkook last night did add to your inebriation. 

You head out to the kitchen to prepare some beef bone soup to help with the headache, hands trying to remove the sleep from your eyes. You move like you’re on autopilot like most post-night out mornings and then you hear someone gasp.

“Shit, woman. Learn your manners and put some clothes on,” Jimin shouts. 

It wouldn’t have been bothersome had Jungkook not been here but of course, he is. Next to your brother, eyes wide and definitely trying not to look at your bare legs. It dawns on you that you indeed removed your shorts because of that very man and your face contorts in shock and embarrassment.

“Fuck. Jimin! Grab me my shorts on my bed, please!!!” You cry out and stand behind the counter.

He’s too scandalized to complain so he rushes to your room and you feel so hot all over. You avoid Jungkook’s face at all costs, which apparently is what he’s also doing.

Jimin throws your shorts on your face. “Get yourself together, jeez,” he scowls.

“You’re the one invading my space, okay, both of you,” you bite back. 

Jimin’s making faces like he always does when you scold him and Jungkook sits next to him, chuckling. 

“I shouldn’t have welcomed you, you brats. I’m used to walking around my apartment in my underwear so this is a lifestyle change.”

“Oh god, shut it. Nobody wants to imagine you without clothes on,” he cringes.

For some reason, your eyes find Jungkook, who visibly gulps. You glare at both men, and Jimin responds with an evil smile.

You return to what you were meant to do and start getting ingredients. Jungkook starts to feel bad and approaches you, mumbles to Jimin that he’ll just help. 

Jungkook appears next to you. “Did you mean that?”

You sigh. “I didn’t. Of course you two are welcome here.”

“I was referring to the other one,” he says with a low voice.

Your eyes widen and you smack his arm. “What is wrong with you? Stop teasing,” you loud-whisper, but he doesn’t miss the way you try to hide your laugh.

“You’re cute when you’re flustered,” he smirks, and you get flustered even more. 

You’re a 28-year old getting scandalized over playful comments by this ridiculously good-looking man and you feel so pathetic but you can’t deny that it’s exciting you. It’s been a while since you’ve had someone flirt with you and pay attention to you like this, make you all giddy and entranced as if you’re an adolescent getting her first love letter or being told by her crush that she’s pretty.

There’s playfulness there but affection, too. You see it in the way he stops the teasing and smiles to himself, then proceeds to help you cook, looks at you with fondness while you eat, then forces Jimin to clean up with him. 

This continues for the next few weeks. His lingering looks on you are more flirty now and he smirks when you look away and try to hide your flushed face. His tone of voice when Jimin is nearby is lower, as if he’s telling you a secret. 

He no longer stiffens when Jimin moves to the corner of the couch and kicks you closer to Jungkook so that your brother can make space for himself. In fact, it’s the opposite now, with Jungkook finding ways to be near you - when the three of you are on a grocery run, when you’re all on the couch for movie night, and especially when Jimin opts to sit on the floor - shuffling closer, knees grazing each other’s.

You’ve kept your head to yourself, fighting the urge to rest it on his shoulder and he definitely noticed this, so he’s started to edge you, in a way. The once lingering finger touches when he hands you something are no more, so are the “accidental” elbow brushes. 

He stands close to you just enough for you to feel the heat off him but not enough to feel him. His arm over your chair leaves his hand thisclose to your shoulder and you swear you can feel the sensation even then. 

You’d stopped smacking him after this one time he flexed his bicep and you started to imagine how good those arms must look.

You found out shortly after when he and Jimin convinced you to join them in the gym because Jungkook had a voucher to a free yoga class since a client of his is a teacher; safe to say she wasn’t happy when he popped in the studio to say you were taking his slot. Jungkook and Jimin did a workout, your brother now in a better condition.

After the session, they made you wait as they finished and Jungkook really had to remove his red jacket to reveal his stupidly gorgeous toned and tattooed arms in a black fit sleeveless top. He caught you ogling and the devil crossed his arms to fucking flex and smirk when the conversation he was having with one of the trainers didn’t even seem that amusing. 

Of course, his outfit just sent your mind into another dimension with the images of what could be underneath that black top and again, you find out one morning exactly how glorious it is. 

It’s one of those post-bar night mornings - you’ve allowed Jimin to enjoy the nightlife again as long as he had chaperones, which essentially were you and Jungkook. You’d woken up and stopped by the hallway at the sound of someone gasping and you look up from the hallway, slack jawed as you watch Jungkook pull his shirt off from the back of his neck with one hand, coffee-stained clothing lying on the counter.

His black sweatpants are hanging low on his hips and does he not have any boxers on?? His tiny waist spreads out to his muscular back, and when he turns, his sculpted chest almost blinds you; pecs just the right perk and torso so taut but not intimidating at all. It’s... beautiful. It looks so smooth and captivating; your eyes can’t help but trail down south and is that black ink that’s peeking underneath the waistband? You gulp at the thought of Jungkook having a hip tattoo because what the fuck? Is he trying to kill you? And his…

“Do you have a shirt I can borrow?” He asks, and you jerk from where you’re standing. 

Your eyes turn to the appropriate body part they should be focused on and he’s smiling like he’s an angel, as if he literally didn’t just try to murder you with his exquisite bare body. 

His smile is so sweet and you know he’s playing you because he totally caught you drooling at the sight of him. Your throat is dry and suddenly you can’t speak, which really isn’t surprising by now because he’s also taken away your ability to form coherent sentences. 

“I, uhm. I’ll get one of Jimin’s.” 

“I don’t fit in his clothes. Don’t you have large ones?”

He knows you do, and you nod, unclench the thighs you didn’t even realize had betrayed you, and retrieve one of your oversized Disney t-shirts and approach him. You stay at a safe distance because any closer you might fall into temptation and you throw him the shirt. 

He chuckles and turns to his side to slowly put it on because of course there’s a fucking dent down there that he wants to show off.

You turn and trip on your foot because god knows how dizzy you feel from the show he just put on.

“Careful,” he calls out and even with your back turned, you just know he’s smirking.

He beats you to the bathroom shortly after and he took his time. 

You decide to wait with your brother who’d been so ecstatic over an audition he landed for a fairly new and small entertainment company as a choreographer for a hip-hop group. 

They told him his contemporary dance background and versatility are just what they need and you soften at his joyful face; he says he feels like a new person again. You listen to him excitedly and give encouragement.

You perk at the sound of the bathroom door opening because you really need to clean the wetness down there and you trudge out of the room so you could finally shower, slightly upset at Jungkook’s clothed form. 

You groan. “Ugh that was so long,” you mindlessly say.

“Oh it is.” His smirk is back and you are pissed. You bang the door and pull your hair out of frustration. 

He doesn’t even need to touch you for you to be a whimpering mess. He knows it. And you’re in trouble.

**

Jungkook is busy for the next two weeks, having shared that he has a couple of on-site art installations outside of the city and a tattoo piece that will need more than one 5-hour shift. You tried not to seem affected when Jimin teased him since it was going to be on a woman’s breast this time. 

“This the same one who had her vagina tattooed? The one who asked you out after?” Jimin asked.

Your eyes were burning your phone screen because you absolutely cannot be affected. 

“Yeah,” Jungkook laughed. “That was fun.”

Jin calling you was your saving grace and you spent the next half hour in your room, talking to him over nursery room ideas because Hoseok couldn’t make up his mind over a neon green or a fuschia pink wall and Yoongi wanted dark grey because “babies can’t even identify colors,” which is true but Jin needed you as the one with a more palatable taste.

Jungkook had knocked to say goodbye, which is more than his usual yelling, and you noticed him linger before you heard the steps away from your door. 

**

It was day 5 when you realized why you’d been so grumpy and you hated the moment you did - you miss Jungkook. You’d gotten so used to seeing him every few days - picking you up from work, playing rock-paper-scissors to determine who’ll choose dinner, laughing at his high-pitched child-like laughter, talking to him about work and other things… you even miss his flirting and teasing. 

He’d been such a staple in your life the past months, and not just to referee between you and Jimin. Jungkook, with his listening ear, his heartwarming passion for his work, and ability to soothe and comfort you in the silence, just feels so stable. And not in the way you used to think. He’s so laid-back and just there, always dependable, like you’re sure whatever it is you’re feeling, he’ll know what to do and say. 

Jimin used to say that Jungkook was always the person he needed for anything and now you understand why. He emits a certain calmness, joy, and consistency, like whether you’re flying or drowning, he’s the pillar grounding you or keeping you afloat. 

You’re always tempted to send him a message but you two don’t text and it’d be weird to just start now, although it doesn’t help that he doesn’t text you, too. You shrug it off and convince yourself that it really might just be a silly crush, one he acts on when he’s around you but probably forgets when he isn’t. Or maybe he went out with that girl, who knows?

On the day that he arrives, he's set to drive Jimin to the audition and watch him, too, while you’re just happy to be able to do errands and clean the house on your own. 

The doorbell rings and Jimin, whom you’ve reminded to shower so he won’t be late, answers the door and you try not to look intrigued when you hear him rambling about how good Jungkook apparently looks because how else can he look better?

With ash-grey hair, that’s how. You couldn’t help it. You peeked and turned your head before he could turn to look at you.

You’re currently by the kitchen counter, tiptoeing to try to get the cereal box on the top shelf to check if you need to buy another or if it would suffice. Or if it’s even still edible. You’ll be off for a quick grocery run if only you can get this stupid box out.

Then a large hand is touching your lower back and the fresh scent of detergent fills your nose. You stiffen as an arm is raised to easily grab the cereal box you’ve spent the past 5 minutes trying to get and fuck do you miss his touch, his scent that you realize is just as comforting as his soft sweatshirts, and the way you feel a jolt of electricity even at the slightest brush of his body on yours.

He places the box on the counter. “You should’ve asked,” he says, voice low.

“I can do it,” you respond, gaining the courage to look at him and your lips betray you at how they part because he looks so good with his new hair. 

“I know. I just like it when you ask.” He tries to keep his eyes on you but they keep falling to your lips, the one he’d been imagining the feel and taste of. But your eyes lock on his, letting yourself be hypnotized. 

You feel his touch drift away from you and you stop him, as your hand finds his and keeps it on your waist, and it signals him to grip tighter and pull you closer. And you let him. You angle yourself so you’re standing chest to chest, you could almost feel his heart beat just as fast as yours.

“What else?” You indulge yourself because you just wanna know. You've missed him and you can’t reconcile the flirting with his recent silence.

Jungkook bites his lip, knowing it’s his signal to tell you how he feels.

“I like it when you say my name, when you listen to me talk and take me seriously. When you don’t make me feel bad about the things I do, the things I choose.”

His hand that isn’t on your waist glides through your arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake. It settles on your cheek and you hope he doesn’t notice just how hot it is.

“I like it when you pout and when you smile with your eyes,” he continues. “And I like it when you need me because then I know I’m not the only one, because fuck do I need you,” he continues, both hands pulling you closer to him until his breath grazes your mouth. 

“Want you so much,” he mumbles, before he eliminates the distance and you feel his soft lips on yours, moving tenderly, carefully, as if the purpose is to seek validation that you feel the same way, to ask your acceptance of the overwhelming affection he has for you. 

Your lips move gently like his, languid yet electrifying and euphoric and you hold onto him for support, just so you won’t lose yourself even more than you already are.

This now feels surreal. You’re not thinking about anything else - not the before or the after - just the feel of him at this very moment and how it’s making you feel alive, carefree, unbound. And you wonder if all your other kisses had felt this good before. Or maybe just different. 

You and Jungkook keep your steady pace, focusing on the soothing feel of each other’s lips, of the sensation of something sensuous and tender.

The aggressive pull of the bathroom door jolts you awake from a dream it seems, and you’re ducking down and crouching on the floor behind the counter before your brother notices anything amiss. Jungkook’s surprised but holds his laugh at how scared you look, the first time he’d seen you be afraid of your brother.

“Kook, has my sister left for the grocery?” He calls out from his open room, probably dressing as he speaks.

Jungkook looks up to check on Jimin. “Yeah, she just left,” he answers after deciphering your hand gestures from underneath him.

“Ugh, I forgot to tell her to buy my cereal. I think the one on the top shelf isn’t edible anymore.”

Jungkook smirks, thanking the heavens that Jimin didn’t tell you, otherwise Jungkook wouldn’t have had the best kiss of his life. He felt you; you moved with him, you felt him. And he can’t be happier.

He has a chance with you. He really has a chance with you, and even at the risk of being caught, he’d do this with you over and over again.

“Let’s go,” Jimin calls out. “I’ll just text her.”

“I’m sure she knows,” Jungkook smirks then heads out, leaving you with a dazed feeling and a heart that won’t slow its beating. 

**

Your time alone with your thoughts only served to confuse you even more. It felt nice. He felt nice. You’d never really considered Jungkook as anything more than, well, your brother’s best friend, even if he’d been the one you preferred out of all of Jimin’s friends dating back to middle school. 

His well-behaved nature and boyish charms were always endearing to you and even when he grew up, his confidence and compassion just amazed you. But it was always from afar. You think it’s the same with him; his affection may just be a little infatuation borne out of his idea of you growing up. You’ve learned enough that the idea of a person, of a relationship, of a could be isn’t always enough.

Another thing you think about is that Jimin is very protective of his friendships. You know that more than anyone, when you dated Taemin in high school. 

You were both seniors and had gotten close because he was Jimin’s dance captain and mentor, someone whom your brother looked up to and admired. Your relationship ended during your first year of college, with both of you saying things you eventually regretted. Safe to say it was your first heartbreak, one that resulted to Jimin’s as well, as his friendship with your ex was also affected.

You and Jimin barely talked about it, seeing his own disappointment because of the resulting strained relationship with Taemin. You thought that the elder would at least maintain a friendship, but he didn’t. 

The most Jimin said about it was when he told you, eyes downcast but tone quite angry, to “keep off my friends and don’t date any of them, please.” You were home for a break and he stormed out of your room before you could apologize. You realized later on that his heartbreak was worse than yours; you told yourself you don’t want to be the cause of that pained look on his face ever again.

His friends are off-limits, he made it pretty clear. Taemin was a mentor but one Jimin eventually did without. But Jungkook is his best friend, his brother. They’ve looked out for each other for more than half of their lives; you can’t even imagine what would happen if you and Jungkook get together and then fight, or break up. 

You wouldn’t want Jimin to have to give up a friendship that means more to him than anything. Or more accurately, you wouldn’t want to lose Jimin over something that might not mean as much anyway. 

You stick to the latter thought, especially when both men arrive home and Jimin is beaming, his smile something you’d never admit actually makes your heart feel all sorts of fuzziness and pride. He’s so excited and you feel it, too, moreso because he informs you that he got the job.

“They really liked me! They said I can really mentor the group and their team is so creative and passionate…” Jimin goes on, narrating every single thing that happened right as he entered the studio. You’ve never seen him this elated, not even with his previous company that was at the top of their game. 

“And they said I don’t have to work right away! They’ll wait for my doctor’s clearance but I can go to work to observe and get to know them more.”

Your eyes moisten because not long ago, you saw the joy in your brother wither away, his passion deteriorate, and his plans go on a standstill. But now, it’s like he didn’t go through a slump or moments of weakness, like he didn’t go through a depressive mode when he thought he’d lost everything. He’s really a fighter, and you truly look up to him. 

“I wouldn’t have made it if it wasn’t for you two,” Jimin continues, pulling both of you in a three-way hug because of course your brother wouldn’t hug just you.

This prompts Jungkook to wrap his arm around you, hand gripping your waist while yours settles for mere pats on his lower back. He tries not to dwell on this minimal contact, or on the way you purposely avoid his gaze. He tries not to think too much when you actively lean towards your brother more during your dinner out, or how you jerk away when any of Jungkook’s body parts comes in close contact with yours.

He’s thinking maybe you’re not in the mood for his playful antics or maybe, he really pushed too far with the kiss from earlier, and it sends him in an internal panic mode because just as his hope of starting something more with you was blooming, it quickly gets shot down just like that. 

It’s when you pass up on games and drinks in your living room when you get back so you could just stay in your room did Jungkook think that he may really have blown his chance.

**

You try to be subtle in your avoidance of Jungkook but it’s harder than expected, especially since Jimin still invites him over. With the excitement of the new job now steadying, Jimin announces his checklist for getting through a crisis - healed foot, check; new job, check. That’s pretty much it, really. “But I still need you two,” he says.

Jungkook comes over and at the start, you notice how he still tries. He attempts to catch your gaze, goes near you, engages you in conversation, makes jokes, lingers before leaving… only to be met with eyes that don’t seek him, short answers, forced laughter, and cold goodbyes. And you absolutely hate it. 

He’s around yet you miss him even more than when he was away, but you can’t fall into the things that made you feel something for him in the first place. 

Living with Jimin made you appreciate him so much more, and you’re glad you get to be this close with him for the first time, and you don’t want to jeopardize that. 

Jungkook had much to do with the newfound attachment with your brother, yet it’s exactly why you’re hesitant to give Jungkook a chance. Their relationship is sacred, similar to how yours with Jimin is. What you and Jungkook have is a by-product of those, and it’s not the priority. Somehow you think all three can’t coexist; you can’t have it all, really.

Whenever Jungkook makes an effort, Jimin’s plea to keep off his friends rings in your head. You know, too, that Jimin gave his friends an ultimatum - date my sister or keep your dicks, something like that. It was funny when you heard of it, but it’s definitely not a laughing matter now. 

Those words were said years ago yet they still hang above your head. You wish Jungkook would just make it easier for you, but why is it that when he stopped trying did you feel your heart break, as if you’re losing something you never had in the first place?

**

It’s easy to reason you feel sick and tired; you’ve been spending later hours at work so spending more time in your room and asking the boys to make dinner instead seem reasonable. But tonight, Jimin isn’t having it.

“We’re celebrating, stay here,” he says, pulling you to the couch next to him. Jungkook is on his right, his once tendency to stiffen around you back again, and you sadden at the thought because he looks so uncomfortable.

“Celebrating what?” You ask, grabbing the beer being handed to you. 

“I’ve been working for 2 weeks and I haven’t reinjured my foot,” he says, his smile blinding you.

Normally you’d roll your eyes at his shallowness but you just agree and mindlessly sip the beer, eyes veering off in the distance.

“Is it a guy?” Jimin asks out of nowhere and you try not to choke. “You only ever get this sulky when it’s about a guy. Is it someone from work?” Jimin states with furrowed eyebrows. 

“Oh! Is it one of the managers who’s been trying to ask you out but he’s the ex of your close friend?” 

You try to remember when you told him that but it was definitely a months-ago issue. 

“Or did you have an epiphany and realized you actually like Yoongi? Or Hoseok? Or maybe Jin but he’s married?”

���What the hell, Jimin!” You say, smacking his arm. Your eyes flit to Jungkook who’s focused on the TV.

“The first one,” you lie to satisfy your brother. 

“It’s kind of a code, you know? He’s Yuri’s ex and she really loved him and I don’t want to ruin my friendship over something I’m not sure is worth it anyway.” And with that, you see Jungkook’s jaw clench. He knows about Yuri and the manager; they were merely a fling, so he knows you’re lying.

“How do you know it’s not worth it if you haven’t even tried?” Jimin asks, incredulous.

“I don’t know, it’s just… Yuri’s my friend and I don’t wanna mess up a friendship.”

“Seems like you don’t trust your friendship with Yuri enough, then,” Jimin states like it’s a fact. This hits your more than it should. Do you really not trust in your relationship with your own brother? Surely you have a basis to be hesitant, but if it only it were that simple.

Jimin picks up on your silence and asks again. “How are you and the guy like? Do you have moments with him?”

“Lots of them,” you say, your eyes finding Jungkook just on the other side of the couch and he’s never felt farther away. 

“And for the first time it’s like I get to savor them. Whether it’s something sweet that he does, or if we’re just together in silence, or when he’s being flirty,” and you don’t see it but Jungkook catches you smiling at the thought and god does he wish you’re lying about this one unless it’s about him. He wishes it is.

“Sounds like a keeper if he gets you to enjoy moments, don’t you think? For someone like you?” Jimin says, cocking an eyebrow.

“Like me?”

“You think too much, you know? You plan, you analyze, you manage risks… I mean, yeah sure they help I guess but this isn’t a job, ___. There’s no profit to be earned here, no losses,” he points out. 

“The only loss is you missing out on something good because you’re too focused on what could happen, and not what’s actually happening, right now.” He's told you a variation of this before, but somehow this hits differently, and more than it should.

“Did you teach that to Jungkook, too?” You ask, a smile creeping up and you digress because you need anything to stop you from walking to Jungkook and holding him close to you.

“No, he taught me that,” Jimin states. “I know it seems like I teach him a lot - well, all I really told him was to never let anybody dictate what he wants and deserves in life, and I stand by that, but to be clear,” Jimin turns to you, “I learn just as much from him. He’s his own self; nobody tells him what to do.”

It’s all meant to be assuring, comforting even, if only Jimin knew. And if only it were that simple. The tension is suffocating but your brother breathes easy. You love him more than you can ever say and his happiness has meant more to you than you ever imagined. You just wish your own didn’t come at a cost.

**

A few days later, Jungkook is back at your place and you had quite the reflective week and opted to stay in your room. 

Some days you just want to bask in your own thoughts; absorbing yourself in your own emotions helps in figuring out what to do, you’ve realized. You’re still a thinker and a planner - that’s probably never gonna change - but you’re starting to at least let yourself feel and enjoy the now, or something like it. You just wish the person you want to spend your now with hasn’t changed his mind.

It’s almost midnight when you decide to head out, your early dinner long digested and you feel hunger creeping in.

You exit your room and stop in your tracks at the sight of Jungkook in your kitchen, all alone. You definitely weren’t ready for this.

“Oh, I didn’t know you were still here,” and you regret it immediately, not wanting to sound disappointed.

He looks up, alarmed at your presence because he wasn’t expecting this, too.

“Jimin fell asleep on me but don’t worry, I was just about to leave,” he responds, eyes not meeting yours. 

“He’s also gonna be coming over my place now since he’s able. Don’t want you to feel like a prisoner in your own home,” he says, motioning to your room where you’ve been hiding recently. 

“Since you’re avoiding me and all,” he continues, and you don’t miss the hurt look on his face. 

You mentally give yourself a pep talk because you definitely want him to still come around and you’re definitely being stupid. 

“I… I wasn’t avoiding you,” you say, blocking his way by the couch as he’s about to reach for his jacket.

He stops in front of you, ensuring some distance. “Yeah, I guess. I mean, you were just not minding me and making sure you stayed as far away from me as possible.” He’s trying to sound bitter but you’re his weakness and he will always go soft on you because his tender eyes are definitely not a match to his bitter words.

“I just didn’t know what to do. You didn’t exactly say what you felt and—“

“I kissed you, ___,” he says, tone suppressing frustration.

“I told you I needed you, wanted you. And you kissed me back. The way you looked at me that day, the way you held me… it meant more, I could feel it. So I don’t know how you could just act like none of that happened, like it didn’t matter,” he continues.

“Jungkook… you’re my brother’s bestest friend. And he’s very protective of his friends, of you.” 

And it’s ironic, Jungkook thinks, how Jimin is the reason why you two had met, got close; how Jimin’s what got you together but is also who’s keeping you apart.

“He’s also the one who constantly reminds me to go for what I want, to never let anybody tell me what to do,” Jungkook says.

“Yeah but this is different. I don’t want anything to come in between you two, the same way I don’t want anything to come in between him and me.”

“So it’s okay for him to come in between us? You really think he’d be okay with that? That he’d keep the two people he loves the most from being together? From being happy?”

And you hate that he’s right.

“What Jimin is to us is out of our control,” he states. “But that shouldn’t be why we can’t try, right? Because god I’ve wanted you since I was 15 and and I’ve waited too long for this and I’d either fight for us or keep us a secret, I don’t care. Just don’t lie to me, please.”

By now he’s standing in front of you and he could pin you against the armrest if he wanted to but he’s keeping his hands to himself, fists clenched at the control he’s trying to maintain because of his intense feelings for you. He’d make you feel it all too, if you just let him.

You can move away if you wanted; there’s space for it. But you don’t. Jungkook bared everything to you, braving through just to be with you; the least you could do is be honest. So with your own strength, you look up at him. 

“You made me fall for the moments, Jungkook. You made me fall for you, and there were so many things to consider and I—“

Your rear hits the armrest, as you’d reflexively walked back as he started to move towards you, slowly eliminating the distance. His arms, sandwiching you, are propped on the couch to support his spread out frame, his face now level with yours. You’re burning with how he’s looking at you with so much hope and yearning.

“Go on,” he says, voice low, his eyes wandering all over your face and you feel your heat dampen with just his gaze. 

“I didn’t know what to do with what I’d started to feel for you because you were off-limits but that didn’t keep me from wanting you and—“

His lips graze the side of your neck and with your breath hitching, he proceeds. Open-mouth kisses trail your neck, with just enough wetness and just enough heat to leave you wanting more. You angle your neck for more access and he smirks at this. 

“And what?” He urges you, mouth focusing on the other side of your neck now, head nudging yours to adjust. 

“And I avoided you because—“ 

You grip the couch for support, as you unravel with his hot breath on your skin.

“That seemed easier than to keep at what we were doing knowing that—“ 

He licks a sensitive part by your ear and your strangled moan spurs him on. 

“I couldn’t have you the way I wanted to.” 

At this, he stops. 

He focuses his gaze on you again. Jungkook holds onto the tiniest shred of self-control he has left just so he can savor you like this, emotions unraveling and your body falling apart before him. 

“How exactly do you want me?”

You steady your breath and as much as you want to give in to your carnal desire and attack his lips, you want him to know how much this means to you. You’re still scared but being with Jungkook steadies you, makes it all feel worth it.

You’re crossing this line now, and you’ll stick with him whether you’ll both come clean or keep it a secret. He wants you enough right now; you’ll figure out what to do eventually. 

Your hand finds his face and fingers trace the scar on his cheek. You let yourself drown in his beautiful eyes, knowing on clear nights you could see galaxies like this. 

“I want you close, Jungkook. I want you to hold me, when I’m sad, happy, confused. I want to hold you that way, too. I want to savor every moment, let you know everyday what you mean to me.”

Your featherlight touches on his jaw send shivers all over his body and he hums at the sensation. You caress his lips before he could bite them again, palming him with your thumb and feeling its softness.

“I want you to fall apart under my touch, want to make you feel good, kiss you like it’s always the last time.”

Jungkook thinks he deserves a prize for how well he’s keeping himself together and not yet taking you on this couch like his dick is telling him to. But he needed to hear all that, needed to look in your eyes while you said them.

Then you smile at him, eyes filled with desire, and that’s all it takes for him to lose his resolve and plunge into you, your plush lips against his soft ones, melding together again like a literal dream. He straightens his stance so his hands can cup your face and he feels you smile in the kiss, relishing in the care and attention he’s giving.

It starts tenderly then quickly turns heated, his eager hands trailing down your arms and waist, and your own entangling his hair, pulling the strands as he nips your lips, prompting them to open. 

Your tongues explore each other’s mouths, his lingering taste of rootbeer somehow making him more addictive. You swallow each other’s sounds, both of you still having half a mind to tone down, knowing that only a wall separates your wanton moans and your sleeping brother.

His grip around you tightens and you pull him closer, your hands now around his neck, fingers thumbing his cheeks and you’re losing yourself to him, as the past few months of undeniable attraction and sexual tension climaxing at this moment where you finally give in to what you’ve been trying to suppress.

Jungkook, on the other hand, feels a sense of calm even with his hard dick and his thumping heart because he’s dreamed of this, dreamed of you, and you’re here wanting him, too. All the memories of watching you from afar, blushing at how beautiful you are, missing you when you were away, heart breaking at how happy you were with someone else, fly by him like a movie because he’s got his ending - you. 

He’s lived for moments most of his life and always knew to savor them, to bask in them because he doesn’t know when he’ll get to have those again. But nothing comes close to right now with you and he decides to make sure he’ll have you like this everyday. 

Both your actions continue, hands stationary but mouths eagerly moving against each other, stopping momentarily for air but smiling, laughing in the kiss.

You give in first, fingers slowly trailing down to graze at his chest and he shivers, curses mid-kiss and you giggle, and he’s on cloud 9 again, realizing he can hear the beautiful sound that is your laughter everyday. 

Suddenly it’s all thoughts of what’s ahead for both of you, imagining what that would be like - feeling, holding, touching each other. You’re both so lost in your little world, minds traveling from now to tomorrow and it’s exciting, so incredibly alluring to be savoring this moment but also thinking about the next. 

You’re light-headed now because kissing him is like a drug, soothing yet exhilarating at the same time and you’re aching to feel him. “Jungkook…” You whine. 

And then.

“HOLY SHIT,” you hear a gasp.

Your eyes burst open and you feel Jungkook stiffen before you try to push him away. You both stull, looking at each other, some distance now between you, and you can hear a pin drop with how quiet it is, the tension so thick that you’re afraid to move. 

You knew at one point you’re gonna have to tell Jimin but not now and definitely not in the middle of a fucking make-out session.

“Is this a hookup or are you both finally out of your asses and would actually like to properly date because god knows it’s about time?”

You and Jungkook slowly turn to the side, eyes wide at your brother who’s leaning by the wall, checking his nails as if he didn’t just give you a heart attack.

“WHAT?” You ask.

“Jungkook’s been into you since forever but never had the fucking guts to do anything.” Jimin sighs and rolls his eyes at the man. “You’re not exactly subtle with your staring.”

Jungkook can’t seem to wrap his head around what's happening because his mouth keeps moving but no sound comes out.

“Neither are you,” Jimin eyes you this time. “You forget I’m good with reading people. And also, I���m friends with Yuri. She doesn’t even remember that guy,” he laughs because of course they’re friends. You feel so stupid; you should’ve known he was trying to catch you in a lie when he asked if your sulking was because of a “guy.”

“So you’ve always known?” Jungkook finally finds his voice.

“About you, duh. She’s recent,” Jimin points to you. “It’s like, one moment you’re friendly then you’re flirty then it’s like you can’t stand each other. Get your shit together, people. I’m literally right here.”

God, you and Jungkook were definitely not subtle. And underestimated your brother, too.

“So you’re not mad?” You confirm.

“No.”

“But… you said you were gonna cut my dick off,” Jungkook stammers.

“And you told me to keep off your friends because of Taemin,” you add. “You stopped being friends because of me,” you remind him, voice almost a whisper.

Jimin takes a deep breath because now he has to come clean.

“We stopped being friends because of him. He hurt you, ___, and you didn’t deserve that,” he admits, avoiding your questioning gaze. “I heard you crying to Jin about what happened and I got angry and wanted you to stay away from my friends because they were all assholes.” He continues, jaw clenched at the memory. “Well, except for him,” he cocks his head towards Jungkook. 

“He was the only good guy. I never really minded if he went for you because... iknowhe’lltreatyouwellandyoudeservethat,” Jimin says.

And you’re not gonna lie, you feel like crying. Jimin’s been trying to protect you all this time. 

Jungkook, on the other hand, isn’t taking this all too well.

“You said you were gonna cut my dick off…” He says again, tone low and unbelieving.

“That didn’t stop you, did it?” Jimin counters, earning him a sigh of defeat because he has a point. 

“I just wanted it to happen naturally,” he explains. “I mean, I didn’t plan on getting heartbroken, injured, unemployed, then homeless all at once but it happened and you both helped me and that unintentionally brought you together and I…” 

He turns to you both. “I realized how good you are together. Not just in taking care of me but in taking care of each other, too.”

By this time, Jungkook has found his feet and is back to standing in front of you, his hand intertwining with yours. You let out a laugh because this whole time, Jimin wasn’t in the dark. But then again, he’s a smart ass too and would’ve figured it out.

And would also push it. “I actually got over Taehyung months ago so like, I’ve been okay for a while,” he shrugs.

And just like that, he gets on your nerves again because that’s how he’s been getting his way, by reminding you of his “broken heart that’s still hurting.” 

“You little bitch! Do you also have a new apartment now and you’re not telling me?!” You shriek, and Jungkook next to you is finally laughing. 

“Oh no,” Jimin responds. “I’m really still homeless.”

And he smiles his sickly sweet smile and you can’t help but mirror it. Your brother is really something, and you don’t know what you’d do without him.

Some seconds pass and you’re just all basking in this moment because for the first time in months, it really feels like things are looking out for all of you.

“So in that case,” Jungkook turns to you. “Would you like to go on a date with me?” Hopeful eyes staring at you, a weight off his shoulder now that he doesn’t need to hide anything from his best friend. He can just focus on falling in love with you and making you do the same. 

“Yes,” you excitedly reply, hand trailing down his chest again. “And in that case, would you like to continue this in my bedroom?”

Jungkook feels his dick twitch. “Fuck, yes.”

“Guess I’m gonna have to sleep on the couch now,” Jimin groans, but you don’t miss his playful tone. “You’re both welcome, idiots.”

**

You’re pushed to the wall right as the door closes and Jungkook’s lips meet yours immediately. It tastes much sweeter knowing there’s no need to hide, to be careful. It’s liberating and it’s making you feel more.

He kisses you harshly as his hands make quick work of your shirt, pulling them off then slowly kneeling down in tandem with his mouth sucking, licking, and kissing down to your breasts, then your torso, causing your chest to heave at the pleasure from just his mouth.

His hands aggressively pull down your bottoms and his tongue finds your clit before you can even process his action. He’s nibbling your bud and laving at your lips and pumping his fingers in you all at once, you don’t know where to focus. 

You feel the desperation and intensity with every move, the sensation overwhelming and eliciting lewd sounds from you. He alternates between moaning and cursing on your cunt and that just adds to the pleasure.

“Eager, aren’t we?” You ask with a smirk.

“You have no idea,” he responds, head buried between your thighs, one of which is currently resting on his shoulder. “Some of my wet dreams may have been because of you.”

“What the fuck Jungkook!”

“I was a growing boy with raging teen hormones!” He says in between breaths. But he doesn’t relent. Fingers curling in your hole, tongue swirling on your clit, and hand squeezing your ass, he’s determined to make you cum now, and with a hard suck, you do. 

You jerk away at the oversensitivity with his mouth still on you and you pull him up to give him a kiss, tasting yourself on him.

At the sight of you bare, eyes half-lidded and steadying breath, he stills.

“Is everything okay?” You ask.

“Yeah I just…” He starts, stepping back a bit, and his eyes roam your body, smile creeping up his face. “I never thought I’d get to have you like this. I always admired you from afar and you always felt so out of reach and I…”

“Jungkook,” you stop him. 

“I’m here with you right now, barely any distance. I’m not your best friend’s sister, okay?” Your hand reaches out to him and he takes it, let’s you pull him closer. “I’m the girl you like whom you’ll take out on a date after you fuck her senseless. Got it?”

“Y-yeah,” he stammers, a shy laugh escaping him. 

You kiss him softly. “No need to admire me from a distance anymore. You have me, right here.”

“Okay.”

And before he can attack you again, you lead him towards your bed. Your fingers pull the waistband of his sweats as you sit on the edge and look up at him, wide eyes eager for something.

“Shirt off,” you say, and he follows.

Your eyes meet your hands that are slowly ridding him of his remaining clothing and you swear you could come again at the sight of the tiger lily tattoo resting on his hip. It curves with his semi-defined v-line, the stem trailing downward, like some pathway to his throbbing dick that’s leaking with some pre-cum.

You take him in your hands and he bucks at the feel of your soft skin around his length that’s aching to be inside you. Your eyes stay on the tattoo; something about it is so hot and you kiss it, lips then exploring the expanse of his hip and up to the part of his torso that you can reach, feeling the ridges of his definitely smooth abs, now tensing at the sensation. 

All the while, your hand is stroking his member, up and down as you continue kissing and licking his pelvis and just like this, he already tastes so good. He grunts with your ministrations, head falling back at the intense pleasure. His hands fall to your hair as you take him in, tongue traversing his dick and your heat clenches at the salty taste of cum and the feel of his veins as his shaft twitches in your mouth.

At the vibration caused by your moan, he stops you, removes himself from you and then lays half your body down on the edge of the bed. 

“My turn,” he says smugly.

You’re about to protest but he swirls his tongue all over your cunt again, the pad of his thumb flicking your nub and you moan his name instead. You haven’t fully recovered from your first orgasm yet but he seems determined to give you another one. He’s eating you like a man starved, as if he plans to slurp you dry.

“More, Jungkook,” you breathe out, then he’s pumping his dick and thrusting into you, the stretch just a tad bit painful but so, so good. 

He quickly adjusts, spreads your legs open for his easy access and the view, and he growls at the supple flesh that's taking him so well. It’s so erotic, watching himself go in and out of you like this, then hearing your deliciously hypnotic moans louden as his hands start kneading your breasts like it’s some dough he’s molding to his liking, his fingers flicking the hardened nipples.

“You feel so fucking heavenly, ___,” he pants. “Fuck, fuck. Can’t believe you’re mine.”

“All yours, Kook,” you respond, delirious now because his movements are really sending you to another dimension. “Fuck me harder,” you beg, and he follows. 

He adjusts again, flushing your legs against you and the angle in which his dick hits your sweet spot causes your eyes to roll to the back of your head. 

You’re screaming expletives and it’s just urging him to go harder, deeper, faster, his sweat trickling down his temples and forming on his chest.

“Cum for me, baby. I need to feel you,” he huffs. 

He’s in a frenzied state and he’s losing himself in you, his mouth now parted and he joins your filthy wails, which are in tune with the sound of skin slapping on skin. 

You feel your body spasm and you call out his name before you give in, heart stopping for a moment and he feels the stream of your cum coat his dick that’s just savoring this a bit more.

But you clench and it’s all it takes, his own seed spurting in you and your back arches as he comes down from his high by languidly kissing your breasts, one hand around your lifted waist and the other, intertwining your hand. 

“Fuck, you feel so good. So much better than I imagined,” he utters, sounding so winded at the intensity of his orgasm.

He’s too tired to even move, body now resting on top of you, chest heaving and bated breaths escaping him. You massage his head and he moans even at that and you laugh but soften at the intimacy of it all.

He finally gets himself off you and you chuckle as he sneakily opens the door and tiptoes to the bathroom, careful not to be caught naked by your brother. He returns with a wet towel, wipes you, then lays next to you, his arm secured around your waist.

He’s smiling so fondly, lips now peppering kisses all over your face. “You’re stuck with me,” he states.

“Nowhere I'd rather be,” you reply, your own soft kiss now turning greedy again, and you think it’s gonna be a long night.

**

You wake up tired but you’re not complaining. It was quite the evening, after all, and you’re reminded by the fluff of grey hair adorning your chest. Jungkook likes to cuddle, you’ve learned, and he couldn’t sleep without a part of his body touching you. 

You release from his hold and head to the kitchen after washing up, not expecting your brother to already be eating his cereal.

“Oh my god, can you wear shorts?” He huffs. 

“Bitch, you’re in my apartment,” you bite back, laughing at the face he makes. 

Your front is to the counter when Jungkook approaches and unlike before, heads to you, arms wrapped around your waist from behind and places a kiss on your cheek. “Good morning.”

His voice is hoarse and you hold back a moan because it just brings you back to last night when after you came the second time, he fucked you softly for your third, then fucked you hard for your fourth, then softly again this morning for your (extended) fifth. God, this man will be the death of you. 

He nuzzles your neck and you giggle.

“Manners, you two. You’re like teenagers,” Jimin scowls.

“Well, I am living my teenage dream,” Jungkook announces. 

Jimin grimaces but softens at the look of his two favorite people looking so happy. “Okay, this is gonna take some getting used to.”

You and Jungkook playfully nod in agreement.

“Also,” he turns to Jungkook who’s now managed to tear away from you. “Are you gonna be here again tonight because you know, I kinda wanna sleep on a bed and all. Couch is great but like, no.”

“You better find your own place soon if you don’t want to keep sleeping there every night,” you reply smugly.

“Okay, now gross!” Jimin, dramatic as always, pretend-gags at the implication. “I’m gonna look for places. Jungkook, you’re still my best friend. We’re going apartment hunting tomorrow.”

“But…” You start.

“No. Nuh-uh. You had him last night and you’re going out on a date today. You need to share my best friend.”

And you all laugh at him throwing a tantrum. He and Jungkook start to bicker and you walk towards your room to grab shorts because it really is awkward when your brother is there. 

The doorbell rings as you’re about to walk back and you open the door, a surprised look on your face.

“Hi, is Jimin there?” The person asks.

**

You head back to the kitchen, your guest in tow and you call out to your brother.

“Chim, someone’s looking for you.”

Jimin looks up and almost falls off the chair.

“Taehyung?” He says, trying to mask the nervous tone of his voice. “I…”

“I have something to confess,” Taehyung cuts him off, eyes nervous but hopeful. “Can we, uhm, maybe talk somewhere else?” 

Jimin nods and quickly follows him out.

You walk back to Jungkook and he tugs you close, hands back to your waist. “What’s that about?” 

You bite back an excited squeal as you think back to what Taehyung told you at the door. 

“Let’s just say, you might not need to help Jimin look for an apartment anymore,” you respond. 

Jungkook smiles and pulls you in for a hug, reveling in this absolutely perfect moment. 

“You Park siblings drive me crazy, you know that? And you two make me so damn happy.”

##

masterlist

#jungkook #jungkook fic #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #brother's best friend #hold me close #oneshot #mine

[nifolution]

Good Girl 2

Pairing: Robert Pronge & Reader

Summary: Mr. Freezy’s new client has an interesting request.

Warnings: Dark fic, Violence, smut, noncon/dubcon, angst, humiliation, death, manipulation, gaslighting, kidnapping, betrayal, mentions of torture, vengeance

A/N: This is a revised copy of my oc fic. It is still written in 3rd person. 18+ only due to smut and noncon/dubcon situations. No stealing, no reposts, no translations, no feeding to AIs. Comments, reblogs and likes are always welcome and appreciated.

Chapter 1 Series Masterlist Main Masterlist

Chapter 2

“Y/N! Oh my god, Y/N, darling what happened?”

Y/N opened her eyes as the bag was pulled off her head. Her dad was crouched in front of her, looking horrified. Relief washed over her, she was safe. “Daddy,” she sobbed, burying her head into his chest.

“Okay, it’s going to be okay. I’ve got you.” He helped her to her feet and walked her inside. Pulling a pocket knife out, he cut her hands free.

He sat her on the couch and wrapped her in a blanket. His hands grasping her trembling ones tightly. “Can you tell me what happened? It’s okay, no one’s going to hurt you anymore, just tell me what happened.”

Y/N took deep shaking breaths, trying to get a hold of herself. She couldn’t look her dad in the eyes as she told him what happened after she left Perry’s house. About the man that kidnapped and violated her. She left out a few details, she had to. She couldn’t admit them to herself let alone her father.

He listened intently to her words, squeezing her hands tighter for the parts that were difficult for her to articulate. “It will be okay, Y/N. You got through it. You’re home. Nothing bad will ever happen to you so long as I am here. I promise you.”

She hugged him tight. “Thank you, Daddy… Should we call the police now?”

“Oh Y/N, I’m not sure what good going to the cops will do.” He sighed as she moved away from him. “They won’t believe you, darling. Trust me on this. Something like this happened to a childhood friend of mine, and no one believed her. She was humiliated.”

“I didn’t do this to myself. I’m not lying. You’ve got to believe me,” she pleaded.

“I do, but they won’t… You say you never saw the man who did this to you. Can’t identify him or the car. Only that he smelled like cigarettes and you sat on something cold. That isn’t enough information to do anything with. They are going to think you aren’t telling the truth. I’ve known you since you were born, you’re my good girl. I know you wouldn’t make something like this up. Not even to cover your shame.” He turned her face to look at him. “I believe you, Y/N. And I’m here for you. I only have your best interest at heart.”

Her dad had a point, but she had to do something. She couldn’t just sit here. “I want to go to the hospital?”

“What for, darling? You don’t appear to need medical attention. Are you bleeding,” he asked, concerned.

Y/N curled in on herself, “No, but they may be able to do something, have someone I can talk to.”

Her father scoffed, “What, like a shrink? No, no. Do you want to be labeled insane, damaged? Do you really want to keep reliving what happened by talking about it with complete strangers? Having to go over every detail over and over while they sit there judging you, blaming you, thinking you’re a slut. Those clothes you wear Y/N… I don’t want people thinking those things about my good girl.” He stood up and moved in front of her.

“But…”

He gripped her face, “I am telling you this for your own good, darling. It would be better to forget it ever happened. To never tell another soul. You have me if you need someone to talk to, okay?”

She nodded, accepting her father’s wisdom. Didn’t protest when he told her to go wash up and get in bed. There was nothing left to do but forget.

Her father walked into her room to tuck her into bed. Look at her, his poor girl. Tonight must have been so traumatizing for her. Well, hopefully she has learned her lesson.

He approached her bed slowly, “There darling, now don’t you feel better? Clean pajamas, warm in your own bed, about to get a good night’s sleep.” He looked down at her thin nightgown, wishing he could see something, anything. That asshole better get him those pictures ASAP.

“Daddy, how did he know where I lived?” Y/N asked timidly.

“Excuse me?” Her father asked, confused.

“He left me on our porch. How did he know our address? My purse was in my car.”

“Oh, yes. I have a theory about that.” He sat down on her bed to break the news. “I think that boyfriend of yours, Perry, may have been involved.”

Y/N shook her head, “No, he loves me, he would never want to hurt me.”

“I keep telling you he isn’t a good kid, Y/N. Just look where he lives, look at his friends. It was probably one of them that did this to you. I’d bet that he’s laughing with them about it right now. He is poison, darling. You need to leave that sack of shit, pronto. Before he hurts you again.”

He had to keep himself from smiling when Y/N lowered her head and nodded. “You need to stick with me from now on, darling. I will protect you. You’re my good girl.”

---------------

Pronge stood in his darkroom, developing the two rolls of film. Sweets really did make a wonderful model. Hanging the washed prints up to dry, he was glad to see that you couldn’t see more of him than his dick, hands and mouth. It’d been four days since that night and he could still taste her on his tongue. Enjoying the memory, he rubbed himself through his pants. Definitely going to keep the negatives for himself.

The next morning he was scheduled to meet the guy that hired him. He wasn’t looking forward to dealing with that squirrely man again. He sealed the photos in a manila envelope. The asshole had better have the rest of his fee. If not, then he’d get his own lesson, of the point-blank kind.

Pronge waited on the sidewalk by his truck. Having a smoke, waiting for the guy to show. He was already 20 minutes late. Maybe he chickened out, figures.

Just as he was about to leave, the man arrived. Looking just as paranoid and twitchy as he remembered him. “You’re late.”

The man had the nerve to look offended. “Yes well some of us have responsibilities that take precedence over this unpleasant under the table transaction. Do you have what I asked for?”

“I do, but it’s going to cost you an extra $500 for being late… and rude.” Pronge opened his jacket to give the man a flash of his pistol. Just in case he tried to argue.

The fidgety man’s face turned bright red. He stumbled over his words before giving up and handing over a smaller envelope. “Here’s the nine grand we agreed on.” He pulled out his wallet, but paused before opening it. “Did she struggle?”

“Barely.”

The man nodded. “I was hoping she would have put up more of a fight… What, ah, what kind of sounds did she make? Did she cry? Did she beg? Scream, whimper, moan?”

Pronge didn’t reply. Just looked the man up and down, disgusted by the invasive questioning.

“Don’t give me that fucking look. I’m trying to get my money’s worth… Tell me, how did she feel? Was she soft? Did she get, you know, wet? What did she taste like? I want every detail.” The man licked his lips, expectantly.

Pronge stared at him, “This how you get your kicks? You didn’t want to see me in the shots so you could pretend it’s you fucking her. I doubt your dick is half as big. Dare to dream I guess.”

“How dare you…” The man puffed out his chest, trying to appear tougher.

Pronge snatched the wallet from the man’s hand. He opened it and scanned the license, noting the last name and address. His jaw involuntarily clenched, “George Y/L/N… Family friend, huh.“ He removed all the cash and threw the wallet back, "You her dad?”

George pocketed his wallet, nostrils flaring. “It is none of your business what I am.”

Pronge sucked his teeth, “You’re a goddamn perv is what you are.” He reluctantly handed over the envelope. He’s done a lot of horrible things in his life, but this just did not sit right with him. He walked back to his truck, thinking what to do about this nagging feeling.

---------------

Two months later Pronge found himself sitting in front of the two-story ranch. All the lights were off, they must be sleeping. He’s been watching them for a few weeks. Seems only his sweetness and the perv lived there. George would leave for work each day, but Y/N never came out of the house unless her father was with her. He was certain that was deliberate

Pronge was a fan of punishment. In his line of work, he often dealt the final punishment to thieves, rats and general nuisances. This man was no different. For betraying his sweets in such a manner, George needed to cease breathing. And he wasn’t going to make it quick.

Picking the lock was child’s play. He silently slid into the home, keeping his eyes peeled for any sign of movement. Pronge made his way to the right. Off of the hallway there was one bedroom to the right, empty. And in the bedroom to the left, he found her. His sweets was fast asleep, cocooned in a pink comforter. He backed out, carefully shutting her door.

Walking back into the family room, he passed through the kitchen into another hallway. To the right was the master bedroom, empty. Hmm, where was that asshole? At the end of the hall was another door. Opening it, he found stairs leading down to the basement. The light was on. He removed the pistol from his pocket. The extra weight of the silencer would be worth it.

Pronge creeped down the stairs, gun at the ready, he found himself in a rec room. Asshole even had a pool table. No one around. He could see a room to his right, even with the light off, it was clearly a gym. Walking further into the rec room, he spotted another door in the far left corner. The door was open a crack and he could see a light on.

He peered in, winner winner chicken dinner. There was the asshole, pants around his ankles, tugging himself. Spread on the desk before him were the photos Pronge took. They guy picked up a few at a time for a closer look. What fortunate timing. He returned the gun and pulled his camera out. Slowly opening the door and sneaking in, he took a picture of the pervert.

He laughed as the guy whipped around, confused by the flash. “Now ya see, George, if it was on film, you could be jerking off with both hands.

The guy’s eyes were as big as saucers, his face red with both anger and embarrassment. “Well you’re a shit photographer anyway. You didn’t even get any with her eyes open.”

As the guy turned back around to pull up his pants, Pronge exchanged the camera for the gun. “I was protecting my identity. I thought you understood that.”

George scoffed. “What the fuck are you doing in my house anyway. Trying to shake me down for more money?” He stood, turned around and paused at seeing the pistol in Pronge’s hand.

“Not after your money, just trying to right a wrong.” Pronge smiled and sauntered over to him, picking up a nearby shirt and stuffing it in the guy’s mouth. Ignoring the asshole’s muffled words, he shot him in the leg.

He watched him fall to the floor, screaming and crying like a baby. “Oh don’t make such a fuss. It’s just part of the lesson. Now get up, we have somewhere to be.” He dragged the man to his feet. Pronge took care to collect every photo and put them back in the envelope. Then he led the man out the garage door and to his truck.

Chapter 3

A/N: Who knew Freezy had a line. He wants to make it right... in his own twisted way.

#robert pronge x reader #mr freezy x reader #mr. freezy x reader #robert pronge x you #robert pronge x y/n

[warmblanketwhump]

safe enough to fall

a little university-themed thing I wrote using @sicktember prompts: comfort item, sneaky temperature check, medicine, unlikely caregiver, and lightly inspired by these prompts

the grip of the winter’s cold was their constant, unrelenting companion - but sometimes, B just wished it would be a little less faithful.

It doesn’t ease in the morning, when B wakes up coughing with a cold nose and stiff limbs. It stays as B shivers through the lukewarm shower and the hurried layering of clothes over damp, goosebumped skin. It sticks to them like cling wrap on the bus, in the lecture hall, the windy walk to their next class, makes them tense their rattling jaw, and leaves them hunched over and huddled up, desperate to conserve any scrap of heat.

This was a fact of their university existence - that after the pleasant crispness of fall, their poor, scholarship-funded body was plunged into four months of frozen hell. They didn’t like to complain - after all, they were getting a free education. But no one told them how brutal their university’s winters would be, nor that dorm heating was little more than a few puffs of warm air every hour, or that regardless of how many layers they pulled on, they’d be chilled to the bone until late March.

Their final class of the week is in a drafty science lab, and they hold back a groan. The cold's not the only source of their dread - it was the thought of spending 90 minutes with their perky, overly friendly lab partner, A.

A, whose parents were well-off, well-known benefactors of their university. A, who lived in a nice house with proper heating and had the money for a warm winter coat. A, who obliviously chattered on about anything and everything. Besides that, they were just so...happy. All the time.

The can afford to be, B thought miserably. There was no way all that sunshine could be real.

B really tried to tamp down their bitterness, but it was hard to listen to someone gush on about their amazing weekend their family spent on some tropical island when B spent the same weekend wrapped up in blankets, trying to stay warm enough to study their nomenclature notes.

Two minutes before class, A bounds into the lab like a freed golden retriever and begins their usual volley of caffeinated questions, which B responds to in short, clipped answers. Suddenly, the questions stop and A’s brows furrow.

“You look cold. Are you okay?”

B shifts on their stool and tucks their fingers into the sleeves of their worn secondhand coat, pulling it tighter with a shudder. “I am cold. It’s winter.” They cough weakly into their elbow - the nagging cough has gripped them for weeks now.

“Are you sick?”

Direct, then. That was new. “No. At least, I don’t think so. I don’t have a fever or anything.” In truth, they had been feeling a little lower than usual the past couple of days, the chill a little deeper, the aches more pronounced, the cough a bit more painful. But in their book, that was hardly enough call themselves sick. B sniffles and A opens their mouth to comment further, but the professor calls the class to attention, and the moment is gone.

90 minutes later, they’ve got their work cut out for them - a ten-page lab report that’s going to count for nearly a quarter of their final grade. And as luck would have it, it was a partner project, which meant B got to spend more time with the equivalent of human rocket fuel.

“So...do you want to just knock this out tonight?” A's eyes dart around nervously.

B frowns - it’s almost the weekend, and they figured A would have plans with friends this evening. But B sure doesn’t have anything going on., so they don’t protest. “No… I s’pose we should get as much done as possible while it’s still fresh. Want to go to the library?”

“Ugh." A cringes. "Do we have to? That place is like a tomb.”

B huffs indignantly. “It's not that bad," they mumble in a weak defense of their favorite study spot. A shoots them a glare, and B rolls their eyes. "Do you have somewhere better? It's Friday, so most places are closing up.”

“Well, my parents decided to go on some last-minute ski trip to the Alps again, so my place is free," A says as they step out into the biting wind. "Plus, I have a ton of food and it's actually warm in there, unlike these buildings.”

The promise of decent heating and food that wasn't from the dining hall was enough for B. "Fine. Your place." The pair trudge through the bitter wind as the sun begins to set, and soon they arrive at A's parents’ home - a beautiful, winding estate just a couple minutes away from campus. B has to bite their lip to keep their jaw off the ground - in the blustering snow, this place looks straight out of a Christmas card. Another reminder of how they don’t fit in this world.

Will you stop? B chastises themselves. A having money isn't a personal attack on you. Just enjoy the free food, finish the assignment and get over it.

Despite the towering exterior, B's house was quite cozy, colored in warm neutrals and filled with soft, comfortable furniture. Just past the mudroom, they spot a big living room filled with with an enormous overstuffed couch, squashy-looking pillows, and soft throw blankets. Everything about this place screams warm. A rubs their arms, suddenly aware of how cold they are. The heat nearly makes them dizzy, and they can feel the temperature difference as it seeps into their cold skin.

"Want some cocoa?" A tosses their bag into the corner and heads for an electric kettle in the kitchen, and B follows. "It always helps me warm up." B nods. A couple minutes later, A pushes over a steaming mug with the top entirely covered in marshmallows.

B wraps their chilled fingers around the mug and takes a sip, and the warm, rich liquid feels like heaven to their cold body. "That's amazing."

A smiles. "It's the good stuff." They sip in a surprising silence for a few moments, before A sighs in resignation. "As much as I wish this was just a social call, this report isn't gonna write itself." They grab a bag of popcorn and nod their head toward the living room, and B follows dutifully. A flicks on the gas fireplace and tosses B a throw blanket, and the pair gets to work.

------------------------------

After a couple hours of studying, three instances of indignantly thrown popcorn, and a dramatic reading of the periodic table, B realized that they may have misjudged A. Deep down, under the bubbly exterior, A was a genuinely kind, sweet person. It wasn't an act - they just were human sunshine. And the longer they spent time with them, the more B realized they didn't mind their company at all.

"Alright." A drops their pencil and rubs their eyes. "If I have to balance one more equation, my brain's gonna explode. Study break time." A flips on the TV and puts the volume on low.

B leans their head back on the couch and pulls their throw blanket to their chin, trying to ward off the shivery feeling in their core. Despite the heat of the fire, the mug of hot chocolate, and the thick blanket, they just can’t seem to get warm.

Their face feels hot, but their blood feels chilled and heavy, the weight of it making them ache deep down in their bones. B wraps their arms around their knees, trying to rub away the throbbing pain and get some warmth into their skin. They glance out the picture window at the now-blowing snow. It's gonna be a miserable walk home.

"B, you're shivering." A's turning to look at them now.

B startles. "It's-It's nothing. Just a chill." The concern in A's voice triggers their flight response. "I....I should probably get back to the dorms. It’s late–" They're cut off with a hacking cough that leaves them breathless and they wince at the ache in their chest.

"B, it's snowing, and you haven't even had dinner-"

"Where's my jacket?" They push themselves up and toss the throw blanket off, instantly regretting it as the air invades their pocket of hard fought warmth. They’re trembling and dizzy and desperately freezing, but they cannot stay here. Then, the world tilts and they fall back on to the couch. For a moment, they're just laying in an icy, spinning world, trying to catch their breath, when warmth suddenly envelops them.

A's tucking the same thick grey blanket around their shivering form. As they pull away, their hand lightly brushes over B's neck, then freezes. B twists away from the gentle touch, but it’s too late. Realization floods over A's face. Caught. "You lied. You are sick."

B groans, even as their fingers weave into the chunky knit and pull the warm layer closer. "A, please. Just let me go home. I'm probably contagious. You don't want me here."

"B, you look like death warmed over. I'm not sending you out in a blizzard when you're feverish like this. I won't do it." There's a spark in their eyes and a set to A's jaw that dares B to challenge them.

B leans back, defeated. Even though they want nothing more than to run out of this room, they're too weak to stand and too cold to move. So here they'll stay.

It's okay. Someone's here. You can give in now.

No. I can't. I can't let them see me like this.

What choice do you have? You already look awful. Let them help you.

A covers them with another blanket and places a gentle hand on their back, rubbing slowly. The firelight flickers, casting light and shadow across their solemn face. “B. Tell me what you're feeling, and I'll get you what you need.”

B swallows down the rising panic, the helpless vulnerability they feel, and takes a shallow, shaky breath. “I…I guess I just feel….not right. I’m always cold...but it's...worse.” They sniffle weakly, trying to still and order their swirling thoughts. “Chills, fever, cough, sore throat, kinda stuffed up. And it just hurts everywhere.”

A nods slowly, then leaves the room. They return in a few minutes with a few small bottles, carefully scanning the labels and holding them up for B to see.

“Can you take this? Any problems with this one?” B had to take a moment and match the brand names with their usual knockoff brands, but soon they had a couple over the counter medicines picked out, along with something for their cough.

A glances at the medicine labels once more. "This one says to take with food. I've got some leftover chicken and dumpling soup I can heat up - does that sound okay?"

B nods almost imperceptibly. "Sounds wonderful." A gets up to heat the soup, and B feels the anxiety rising in their stomach when they're not in the room with them. A returns with a mug and manages to gently spoon a few sips of broth into B's mouth before B starts falling asleep, clutching the grey blanket even tighter to their shoulders.

A smiles sadly. “That blanket's my favorite whenever I'm not feeling good. It's the best thing you could have to fight off what you’ve got. Trust me.”

B curls into the soft fabric. It was as if the warm environment of the apartment and the comfort of the blanket had been a signal that it was safe to leave survival mode, rest for a moment, open the floodgates that had been holding back whatever had been ailing them for weeks.

After B takes their medicine, A’s eyes shift awkwardly around the room. “So….when you’re sick, do you like having someone with you? Or do you want to be by yourself?”

A sudden rush of emotion crashes over B. They’d so rarely had the choice. It takes all they’ve got not to throw themselves around A and beg them not to leave. “Stay, please,” they ask in a small, trembling voice. “If it’s not too much trouble.”

A smiles halfway and gently pats B’s leg. “Seeing as how I live here, I don’t think that’ll be a problem.” They take their spot at the end of the couch and pull B’s legs over their own, flicking the TV to a familiar movie. B tries to keep up with the plot, but they keep falling in and out of a fitful, restless sleep, tossing, turning, unable to get comfortable enough.

When B’s about ready to cry from exhaustion, A’s there, covering them up with another blanket, bringing them a glass of water, gently stroking the damp hair off their forehead before laying a cold cloth over it. They flinch at first, but the cool dampness eases the fire of their fever, even for just a moment. The last thing B remembers before falling unconscious is a gentle hand squeezing theirs.

It could be minutes or hours later when they jolt awake from a fever dream in a cold sweat, choking and coughing. They’ve kicked off their blankets and the cloth is nowhere to be found, but the chills are back in full force. A appears in B’s blurred vision, hand held to B’s forehead. “Poor thing. Your fever’s worse,” they murmur.

B’s still gasping for breath, curled up in the fetal position, body wracked by the shakes as they try force the words through their chattering teeth. “A...It's so cold. I’m so scared.”

If B was more lucid, they’d see something in A’s eyes crack wide open at their weak, fearful cries. A pulls the trusted grey blanket from the floor and wraps it back around B, rubbing their arms to try and make them feel warmer. There's something in the tenderness of the gesture, and B’s panicked gasps turn into soft, quiet sobs. They try and cover their face with one hand, but A’s hand is there, catching their wrist and wiping the tears away with their thumb.

“Hey. You’re gonna be okay. We just gotta get through tonight, alright?” A’s voice matches their usual cheery demeanor, but B can see the fear in their own eyes. They don’t know what they’re doing either.

“Why are you helping me?” B whispers in a tear-roughened voice.

A shrugs. "You're sick. You need help. Is it that so surprising?"

B's eyes flash a delirious spark. "You don't get it. I'm a broke scholarship student. I'm nothing like you. I'm not fun, or bubbly, or rich, or any of those things you are, and I don't fit in here. So why?"

B can't stop the words now, every single insecurity laid bare. "Why do you try to talk to me when I'm nothing but rude to you? Why'd you invite me here? Am I just a project to you? Why are you helping me? I'm not worth it!" The words spill out before B can stop them, and the raw hurt in A's eyes nearly rips B's heart out of their chest.

B claps their hand over their mouth, tears flooding their eyes. Now they've done it. They've laid it all out there. A's gonna kick them to the curb. And B won't blame them one bit.

But instead, A just looks at them, and pulls B into a hug. Their voice wavers only a bit as they whisper in B's ear: "You're not a project. You are completely worth being cared for. And you’re not the only one who knows what it feels like to not fit somewhere. Trust me.”

Alone. In a big, empty house. Studying on a Friday night. No plans of their own.

A, are you lonely, too?

Their words are so simple.

And yet they're everything B didn't know they needed to hear. A's got one arm around their shoulders, and one hand threaded through their sweaty, fever-damp hair, and they're cradling B so tightly it’s like they're the one who needs to be held.

B can't find the words to apologize or comfort them back. They're too tired for that. But they wrap their other arm around A and let their head rest on their shoulder. They stay like that for ages until their head begins to drop, and A shifts so they’re both laying down, B curled against A, A’s arm wrapped around their shoulders as they tuck a blanket around them both.

And finally, finally, B lets go. It's safe to fall, this time around. Because for the first time, there's someone there to catch them.

#sickfic #whump #sickfic prompt #whump prompt #cold whump #lol i rewrote this four times #can i just be chill about whump #no #no i cannot #also it’s cooler today #fall means whump weather #I don’t make the rules

[chubbybuckydumpling]

Royally Screwed

words: 4.2k

pairing: chubby!stableboy!bucky x royal!female!reader

warnings: arguing, period (probably not) accurate problems, smut, fluff, oral (f and m receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, power dynamics

A/n: dear anon, I’m sorry it took me 2 months to write this, I hope you’re not too upset. I changed the original prompt a little, I hope you still like it! Dividers by @firefly-graphics

My Masterlist

The wind is blowing through your hair, a cool breeze that relieves you from the hot summer sun. Your horse is galloping under you, his strong legs taking you over the loose ground. The rays warm your face, a welcome sensation. You missed this, riding through the afternoon, taking time to just live, all troubles and worries forgotten.

Admiral has always been close to you, your first horse and best friend since you were twelve years old, merely a child. The Arabian Stallion slows down to a trot on your command, the high grass tickling his side. You let your hands roam over his dark mane, feeling the sturdy hair under your fingers.

A single bumblebee flies ahead of you, its loud buzz making you smile. The scene around you makes your heart feel lighter, a warm feeling that floats through your chest. You let Admiral come to a halt and slide down from your saddle.

You trail your hand over the horse’s muscles, the short hair caressing your palm. His strong snout nudges your arm and he neighs, causing you to giggle, “You did so well, boy” You wrap your arms around Admiral’s muscular throat.

His scent fills your nose, it’s familiarity never fails to bring you comfort. The animal scratches over the earthy ground as the sound of hooves hitting the floor ripples through the air. You whip around, parting yourself from your companion. A little further away, you see two of the guards coming your way. Their horses are quick and strong, but they have nothing on your Admiral.

“Lady Y/n”, they yell out and you can’t help but roll your eyes. The men reach you quickly, panic in their eyes, “Your highness, you must remain in close proximity for us to successfully protect you at any time”, one of them states, trying to deepen his voice.

“Of course”, you smile at them, “it wasn’t my intention” A lie. You purposely mislead them to have a moment of your own, some quiet minutes of peace. The guards exchange glances until one of them shrugs. “We see. Now, it is of utmost importance to immediately escort you home. We shall keep you as safe as possible, your highness”

You sigh internally, but follow the mens’ orders without argument. Admiral snorts stubbornly, but reluctantly follows your lead.

The sound of birds singing and insects chirping brings you great joy as you gently rock back and forth with the steady trot of your horse. Unknowingly, these were the last moments you would spend outside of the castle for quite some time.

The guards at the gate salute as you pass them. The warm sun has kept you comfortable in the open where the wind was stronger, but you quickly start to heat up inside the walls of your father’s estate. Admiral soon comes to a halt in front of your mother. The woman is fuming as she approaches you, her face twisted into an angry grimace.

“Your father and I need to talk to you, young lady! You are in serious trouble”, her malicious voice hisses as you jump off of Admiral’s back. Your mother’s fingers wrap around your arm to pull you towards her, but a warm smile is on her face. A muscle in her jaw twitches and exposes her true anger. She speaks to one of your guards, but you can’t be bothered to listen for something has caught your attention.

A man has walked up to your horse to pet his head. He is gentle with Admiral, careful and loving even. You let your eyes rake over the man. The typical stable boy clothes are obscuring your view, but you can make out the bulge of his tummy, his big arms and thick thighs. His long brown hair falls over his face, some strands are stuck to his forehead as the sweat glistens over his face. This man looks like an absolute dream and you can feel your lips twitching up.

You begin to walk towards him, a giddy feeling brewing up in your stomach, but your mother pulls you back, “Oh no, you are not getting out of this one. Follow me, now” She drags you behind her and you wish to struggle against her grasps, but won’t dare to resist her. Not at that time at least. You take one last glance in his direction, hoping to see his face, more of him. You find his gaze, stare into the warm blue of his eyes before your mother pulls you out of his view.

A sad sigh escapes your lips, but you promise yourself to go and find him as soon as possible. The way he looked at you, sweet and shy, is replaying in your head, his sweaty form a picture in your mind. Whoever that man is, he makes your insides throb with desire.

Your father’s yelling rips you out of your trance and you look up to meet his vicious glare. He takes a deep breath with closed eyes and when he meets your eyes again he looks calmer. His hand reaches out to your face, cupping your cheek.

“My daughter, what am I going to do with you?”, his voice suddenly sounds sad, “Y/n, you know that you need to enter a marriage soon. I need you to be on your best behaviour, this is about your future. I only want good things for you” You rest your palm over your father’s, “I know, father” He brushes his thumb over the apple of your cheek, “You’re so beautiful, my only daughter. I know this isn’t what you want, but at least let me make it as pleasant as possible for you”

You sigh and stare right past your father, “I already gave my word to marry whomever you choose, father” His hand falls from your face and wraps around your fingers, “I don’t want to hand you to anyone, don’t you understand? I want someone that cares about you” He squeezes your hand, “But you need to behave,Y/n. The men of higher status, they won’t accept an ill-mannered, rebellious women”

Enraged, you rip away from his touch, “I am not ill-mannered” Your mother gasps at your outburst, but your father smiles at you. He steps forward and grabs you by the shoulders, “I know that. Believe me, I do. But these other men don’t” A sigh escapes your lips, but you nod nevertheless, “Okay, father. I will do my best” He grins and it jumps right over to you.

Your father pulls you into a warm hug and whispers to you, barely audible, “I could not be prouder of you, my child” A warm, comforting feeling spreads through your chest and you feel like a little girl, no worries or problems, just love and happiness on your mind. You pull away from the hug and watch your father’s eyes crinkle.

Your mother forces a cough and directs a pointed glare at her husband. He sighs and turns to you, “However, your mother and I have decided to ground you for the next few days. We cannot let your temperament ruin your future. We ask you to stay on the estate’s grounds” This is obviously your mother’s doing. She always cared more about your standing and reputation, but you’ve learned to just accept her orders.

“Yes, father”, you nod at them, “Mother” A satisfied look settles on the woman’s face, hands clasped tightly. “You are excused”, your father rasps and you leave the room, a sour look sneaking onto your lips. Stupid marriages. All of your life, the fact that you will be married off as soon as someone worthy shows interest, has been hovering over you, a subconscious thought that drained your energy, leaving you exhausted and numb. You can’t believe that this dreaded day is moving closer so fast.

You enter your room and sit down on your bed. The mattress gives out under your weight and perfectly molds into a comfortable shape. You let yourself fall until you’re lying flat on your back and close your eyes. Slowly, the darkness and exhaustion consumes you ,hugging you like a warm blanket.

The shine of the moonlight dancing through the window rouses you from your sleep. The light has a slight pink tint and colours the dim room in a nice shimmer. A yawn escapes your mouth and you sit up. The cool air makes goosebumps appear on your skin, yet you feel drawn to it. Suddenly, an idea pops into your mind. Surely, nobody would notice if you left for a little to see Admiral.

A grin sneaks on your lips as you wipe the nasty crumbs from your eyes. Quickly, but careful to remain silent, you dress in your warmer riding clothes, the training ones, not the dresses. Thick, warm leggings and a nice, comfortable pullover. On your way out, you grab a wooly hat to cover your ears, smiling mischievously.

Skipping, you make your way through the halls. A giddy sensation rumbles in your belly, the excitement of knowing you’re about to go on a ride. The door knob feels cool under your skin as you turn it to open it. The freezing air seeps into the kitchen, swirling around your body. Adrenaline shoots through your veins and your legs begin to move on their own, moving faster and faster until you’re running, your feet carrying you over the well known path.

You come to an abrupt stop when you see a small light in the stables, most likely a lit candle. Nervously, you sneak closer to peek around the corner. In the dim shine you manage to make out the features of the beautiful stable boy from earlier that day. His hair is falling free, framing his chubby face so beautifully.

A long sleeved linen shirt layered with a dark vest and brown trousers clad his thick form in such a delicious way. For some reason, this man made you feel things. To your surprise however, he is standing next to Admiral, gently stroking the horse’s strong, defined face. Weird, you find yourself thinking, Admiral usually does not tolerate close proximity with anyone but yourself.

That fact is seriously arousing. This beautiful man being so gentle to your hot headed horse is insanely attractive. Your heart fills with warmth the longer you watch him. He whispers into his fur, smiling adoringly at him. The stable boy’s big hands look so soft against Admiral’s fur, his thick, long digits massaging the strong muscles. You bite down on your lower lip, a sly smirk forming. This beautiful sight almost made you forget about the cold.

Your lungs fill with air as you take a breath of encouragement before you move out of the hiding spot. Making sure to move your hips extra seductively, you wander closer to the man of your desire. It’s easy to pinpoint the moment he notices you by the way his eyes double in size and his entire body freezes. The look of fear in his eyes tugs at your heartstrings.

Gently, you take a step closer to him, but he shies away from you, like a baby deer, scared and vulnerable. “Lady Y/n, I beg your pardon. I didn't mean to intrude”, he stumbles through the words, clearly afraid he upset you. You smile in hope of looking safe and not angry. “You’re fine”, your voice is gentle, almost like you’re talking to a child, “It’s impressive. Admiral really seems to like you”

He shyly looks up to you to gauge your reaction, nervously playing with his fingers. “He’s very beautiful”, the man whispers and tucks some of his loose strands of hair behind his ear. You grin, taking another step forward, “He is”, you reach out to scratch Admiral’s neck, “So are you”

A deep blush rises on his cheeks, warming his skin. You continue talking, eyes trained on the stable boy’s chubby face, smiling warmly at him, “So, what’s your name, pretty boy?” Nerves cloud his eyes, his chest rising and falling quickly, “James, b- but people call me Bucky”

“That’s a real pretty name”, you purr, “Bucky”, testing out how the word feels rolling off your tongue. Lower lip between your teeth, you reach out to touch his biceps. His strong muscles flex under your touch, but it feels soft beneath your skin. Your fingertips squeeze around him as a surge of want ripples through your body.

“I saw you with Admiral this afternoon and I could not stop thinking about you. You’re so good with him, it’s very”, you smirk and lean closer to him, lips right next to his ear, “arousing”. The whispered word makes him gulp and he feels himself twitching in his loose pants. He can’t deny he feels attracted to you, especially in these casual clothes that you’re wearing right now.

He’s been eying you for months now, always hidden away in the shadows or behind corners. He heard so much gossip, so many rumours that intrigued him, but your bond with Admiral really did him in. To see how caring and tender you were with the horse made him crave the same attention from you. He wanted your affections and love, almost like he needed them, but he knew better than to approach you. His family depends on his earnings, he would not challenge that security he could provide. But now it seemed like maybe he could have both.

The close proximity makes his heart race, your breath tickling his sensitive skin. You feel his nerves, so you move even closer, pressing your body against his. He tenses up, but shyly reaches for your waist. “I really want you right now, Bucky”, you whimper, pushing your breasts forward and up against his chest. His breath catches in his throat, but he somehow finds the energy to tighten his grip on you.

The feeling of your body against his further arouses him, a shiver running down his spine. With all the courage he could muster, he looks up at you, “I really want you too” Your hands run over his chest and grip onto the edges of his vest, “Then take me”

Pulling on the leather, your mouths crash together. His rough, chapped lips fit right onto your own soft lips, a result of your maid’s tending. The smacking sound immediately helps you relax into Bucky’s frame, letting out a little sigh. With newfound confidence, he traces your lower lip with his warm tongue, leaving you yearning for a taste.

You open up for him, letting him explore your mouth. He moans at the feeling, licking into you greedily. Little glimmers of want spark in your belly, nipples hardening as the simmering pleasure begins to grow. Your saliva mixes with his, tongues dancing together in an aroused display of want.

Just as you were about to shrug off his leather vest, Admiral neighs right next to you. Bucky shrieks, jumping away from you. You stare at him, a slight fear of being caught running through you before a grin etches on your lips, laughter bubbling in your chest. Bucky mimics your giggling, his eyes crinkling adorably, lips swollen.

Grinning you pet your horse once, but turn to the chubby stable boy to pull him after you. The back of the stable is dark, only Bucky’s candle serving as a source of light. You turn around, coming face to face with the pretty boy. The golden glow makes him look so beautiful, the breath stuck in your throat. It’s completely silent, only the sounds of your breathing audible.

You gulp, stepping even closer to him. Carefully, you take his candle and place it on the floor, close to a pile of hay. “Bucky”, you whisper, “please” He takes a deep breath, but closes the distance between you two, once again connecting your mouths. Gently, he grabs you by your waist, both hands feeling warm and powerful on your body. Your own fingers wrap around his neck, playing with his beautiful hair.

With tongues intertwined, Bucky closes his arms around you to lead you towards the hay, supporting your weight. “Wait”, he mumbles against your lips, reluctantly pulling out of the embrace, “Let me just…” With care, he shrugs off his vest and places it over the hay. A soft smile spreads over your face, a funny feeling whirling in your belly. You take the chance to take off your hat.

“Well then, gentleman”, a purring sound fills the air, “I could use some help undressing” He gulps, eyes widening in arousal. Slowly his hands find your hips, fingers sliding under your shirt. The immediate warmth that seeps into your skin makes you gasp, moaning lightly at the feeling. His digits trace your skin, gently lifting up your shirt so you can take it off.

His hands roam your exposed skin, exploring your body to his full extinct, feeling every curve and uneven spot. You reach behind your back, unclasping your sturdy bra. Bucky gasps at the sight, eyes trained on your exposed breasts. Your nipples harden, once more, under his fiery gaze and you gently push his hands towards the, your body burning for his touch.

The moment his palm cups you, a needy moan escapes you which spurs Bucky on to massage your breasts with more enthusiasm, toying with your nipples. Greedily you let your hands wander under his linen shirt, reveling in the feeling of his soft skin. The chubby rolls feel delicious under your touch, gending to your wishes. You hastily free him from the offending clothing, pressing your body against his.

Arousal and need is flaming inside you and you desperately press your lips together into a hungry kiss, teeth crashing against each other. “Please, I need you so much” He nods, breathless, and gently lays you down on his vest. You catch a glimpse of his tented trousers, saliva running in your mouth, the sight so delicious, especially paired with his big thighs.

Bucky’s chubby fingers work your fuzzy leggins down your legs. The cold air causes goosebumps to raise on your skin. You hear him gasp when he looks at your exposed heat,dilated eyes transforming into a hungry stare. “You’re beautiful”, he groans, his hand cautiously travelling up your thighs. You nod as confirmation and Bucky runs two of his digits up your heat.

He traces your outer lips, your anticipation rising. You hold your breath, hands running through the hay that the vest doesn’t cover. Finally, he leans up and spits on your core, further lubricating you. He finds your clit and begins to rub gentle circles into it, a stuttered breath leaving your mouth.

Bucky trails down to your opening, carefully inserting two of his fingers into you. “Fuck”, he groans, pushing in further, “you’re so tight and wet” He starts to fuck you with them, slowly at first, then faster, his gaze set on you. The squelching noises fill the air, soon joined by your moans. Suddenly he hits a special spot and you arch your back, pressing into him as a loud, guttural groan leaves you.

Your gaze meets Bucky’s and you begin to move your hips on your own, “Please do it again, do it again” Your begging eggs him on and he adds another finger, his strong thrusts leaving you breathless. Your eyes roll into the back of your head, pleasure building up in your lower belly.

All of a sudden you feel something wet around you, followed by a suction right around your sensitive nub. You moan loudly, hands flying into his hair. His penetrating gaze meets your eyes and with an especially hard suck the coil in your tummy snaps and you cum around his fingers, your core grabbing him tightly. You feel him moan against you, but he keeps fucking you through your orgasm, prolonging the addictive high.

Finally, you regain your senses and push him away from you, too sensitive for any further stimulation. You look at him. He sits in front of you, his chin wet with your slick, chubby belly rolls folding into each other deliciously, his trousers tented with his obvious want. A smile plays over your lips, “You look so beautiful like this, James”

He perks up when you mention his name, a shy, but aroused glint in his eyes. “You really think so?”, he sounds so little your heart starts aching for him. “I’ve never seen someone as stunning as you”, you crawl up to him, hands on his cute little cheeks. You feel his breath graze your lips and lunge forward, mouth against his, tongues tangling.

One of your hands drops lower to cup him. He feels heavy in your palm and so nice. A craving awakes inside you and you squeeze him through his trousers, a lovely moan ringing in your ears. Your fingertips hook around the waistband and you pull all the bothersome clothing off of him. His cock jumps free. It looks delicious, hard and slightly curved to the side, thick veins running along the length of it. The bulbous head is covered with his foreskin, a trail of precum has made its way down some of it.

The sight of him is so beautiful, his thick thighs making you bite down on your lip. You bow down, one hand gripping his leg, the other slowly fisting his cock. You watch as the foreskin pulls back to show his wet, sensitive head. With one last look into his face, which is contorted in pleasure, you take him in your mouth, slowly sinking down on him.

He moans, hands cupping the back of your head. You suck on him, yearning for his cum, his taste .Fondling his balls, you become even more hungry for him. He smells so husky, so good, mouthwatering even. Slowly, you take him even deeper, your nose buried in the curly pubic hair. His hips stutter, pressing his length even further into your throat, a hearty groan leaving him. You splutter around him, your gag reflex kicking in.

Pulling off, you take deep breaths, spit running down your chin. “‘m sorry”, Bucky mutters, his own hand now wrapped around himself, fisting his wet cock, “It just feels so good” Your pussy clenches at his words and you lay back down, spreading your legs. “I bet this will feel even better”

Bucky groans at the sight and shuffles closer. He runs his thick head along your slit, coating it in your wetness. Managing to hit your sensitive clit with his cock, he groans, twitching in want. Gently, Bucky positions himself at your stretched hole and begins to push in. He moans, steadily spreading you over his cock until he bottoms out.

Sweat runs down Bucky’s face, pleasure and desperation filling him. He tries to refrain himself, but when you begin to whimper and grab onto his thick arms he crumbles. Bottoming out, his fat balls slap against your bum. Slowly he pulls out again, just to thrust right back into you. His cock is so hard and curved perfectly, he fits inside you so well.

The sounds of skin slapping and moaning is the only thing you can hear, sweaty bodies moving in unison, a play of mutual pleasure, need and adoration. Bucky’s chubby belly feels so good against you, especially paired with the delicious feeling of him hitting your spongy g-spot over and over again.

His hands are all over your body, grabbing handfuls of your breasts, playing with your nipples, holding your thighs and squeezing your waist. His moans and whimpers sound so delicate and sexy, almost serene and calming, but so arousing. The squelching of where your core envelopes him makes you arch into him, his chub so soft against you, yet his obvious strength makes you clench.

His length fills you so good, his hard, quick thrusts turning you on enormously. His fattened up cock makes you mewl, all the sensations adding up into one big coil of pleasure.

Bucky’s sounds grow louder, his hard thrusts faster, more irregular. His cock begins to pulse in you when he drops a hand to your sensitive nub, drawing quick, strong circles on it. Your body is on fire, spasming under the stable boy, your hips meeting his thrusts. You feel so close to the edge and when Bucky grunts, “You’re so good for me, you’re gonna make me cum” you fall over.

Your body shakes, yet you feel like you’re floating. A warm, fuzzy sensation enveloping you, like a soft blanket hugging you close. You feel Bucky’s naked skin against you, his fingers on your skin and his breathing against your neck, but you can’t open your eyes. He grunts loudly and pulls out, but you’re so blissed you don’t find the energy to do anything but whimper.

“Thank you”, he mumbles, his soft lips resting near your collarbone, some spare hairs tickling you nicely.

Slowly, you become more conscious and manage to blink, opening your eyes. Bucky is cuddled against your side, laying on the hay. His arm is wrapped over your waist. You spot his white cum on your tummy; It looks slightly dried and feels a little itchy.

You turn to look at him, a soft smile forming at his beautiful face. His long hair frames him so well, a delicate sight that makes your fingers itch to draw. Instead, you cuddle closer to him and close your eyes. You know you’ll have to get up soon, nobody can find out about this, but for now you want to enjoy this moment of peace and serenity for a little while longer.

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[kamotoshi]

safe [chōsō x reader]

pairing: chōsō x fem sorcerer! reader

genre: fluff with (seriously faint) hints of angst

warning(s): contains manga spoilers for chapter 62!

word count: 2.3k

overview: after spending many years as a sorcerer, you’ve believed certain things to be true. but a chance meeting with a curse that’s developed into a deeper relationship changes your perspective.

notes: want some listening music? here are two songs that helped me write this: summer fling by kang + effervescent by toonorth

A quiet, but gasping breath fills your lungs with a pocket of cold air when you wake from a dead sleep with a start. Instinctively, your hand flies in front of you, directed towards the doorway to obliterate whatever intruder you automatically assume has roused you from your deep slumber. However, much to your surprise, you’re completely alone. Rubbing your eyes, you turn your head towards the alarm clock on your bedside table to check the hour.

Ah, it’s that time again.

With a gentle sigh, you slide out from beneath the warm covers, causing your skin to break out in a wave of goosebumps at the chill in your room that you throw on a sweater and pants to combat before heading to the kitchen of your small but cozy living quarters. Sleep refuses to relinquish its grip, and you ungracefully bump into a few surfaces in the process of preparing two, hot cups of tea and finding a blanket to drape around your shoulders.

The rush of crisp air that greets you when you finally make your way outside of your abode livens you up a bit, though, and you wrap your arms around yourself to retain as much warmth as you can. Following the stone path decorated with glowing lanterns brings you to the front gates of your school—a place you know to visit whenever you wake up with such a start in the dead of the night. The drinks in your hands radiate heat that staves off the bite of the cold as another gust of wind howls past you.

In the darkness of the night, only lit ever so faintly by the twinkling stars in the sky and the waning moon, your eyes search for the visitor who seems to have fallen into a habit of making their presence known around the same time on every odd evening. Sure enough, the thumping of heavy boots against the stone walkway winding near and through Jujutsu High’s campus draws your attention to a tall figure wandering around nearby. The baggy cream clothes draped over his body beneath a vest the hue of blood instantly give away his identity, along with the dark, spiked hair gathered neatly atop both halves of his head.

Before his name can leave your mouth, he turns around to face you, as if he senses your presence the same way you sense his on the nights that he chooses to visit. It’s almost as if he uses some unseen force to disturb you from your sleep so he can steal away anywhere from a few minutes to hours of your time. Of course, this possibility would seem at least the slightest bit insane to an average person, but, for you—a jujutsu sorcerer—it cannot be discounted for the sole reason of what your visitor is: a special grade curse.

Wordlessly, the man you’ve come to know as Chōsō after a twisted event that led to many more spontaneous encounters such as this approaches you. His dark gaze skims over your figure before settling on your own, making your heart thud gently in your chest. Placing his hands in his pockets, he glances at the drinks you’re holding and asks, “Will you come on a walk with me?”

As a sorcerer, it should be second nature to meet the request of a cursed spirit with a no followed by a prompt exorcism. However, in all the times that he’d come to visit, he hadn’t appeared to do so out of ill will or inclination to get some sort of revenge. He’d always sat on the outskirts of the campus or walked around the lush forest surrounding it with you, making as much or as little conversation as you’d liked. In spite of how powerful you knew he was and the nature of his being, you didn’t feel particularly put off by him. In fact, you often found yourself thinking about him and when he’d stop by next more than you probably should.

Slowly, you nod, passing him one of your mugs so the two of you can be on your way. “Thanks.”

The sky above is surprisingly clear, given the school’s location in Tokyo, aside from a few, lingering clouds that float past the moon on their way around the part of the world you call home. It’s oddly peaceful considering your company for the evening. But you’d never really felt uneasy in his presence to begin with. And you certainly don’t feel threatened now, with the way he only seems focused on trying not to spill any of the tea you’d so kindly prepared for him as the two of you traverse a dirt path near the school’s grounds.

It's also a bit ironic, you think, that the route you seem to have fallen into the habit of taking leads you near one of the many, small shrines—gems hidden amongst the forest’s depths—but he appears to have just as much of an affinity to the location since he never suggests going elsewhere.

Beneath the gentle, pale glow from above filtered through leafy branches extending over you, Chōsō’s features take on a soft, almost peaceful appearance. He seems to bask in the symphony of crickets singing as he takes a deep breath and sits down on the grassy hill directly beside you. His dark eyes dipping down to the lip of the mug in his hands before shifting over to meet yours catches you off-guard since you hadn’t realized you’d been watching him so attentively.

“Hmm?” he wonders and takes another sip of his tea. His voice and your own pounding heartbeat are the only things you can hear above the sea of noise.

Inquisitively, you ask him a question you’re sure he’s used to hearing: “Why do you keep coming here?”

He sighs and glances at the grass beneath the two of you before answering, “I get overwhelmed.”

“Overwhelmed?” you echo.

His head bobs in a slow nod as he tilts it up towards the sky once more, making his dark eyes twinkle in spite of the hint of sadness that seems to be lingering behind his gaze. “I’m always expected to do things. To pay the price of being granted my life here. And sometimes, all I wanna do is just sit and look at the sky.” There’s a small, but undeniable ache of empathy in your chest as you allow your eyes to flit over every feature of his face, searching for the words he’s not saying. But with his straightforward, unabashedly honest manner of speaking, it’s unlikely for him to leave you wondering.

After taking a drink to fight off the chilliness, another question leaves your lips. “You could go anywhere to cloud watch or stargaze, though. Why come all the way here?”

“I want to.”

Your fingers tap against the ceramic of your mug. “But being here puts you in a lot of danger. Why would you want to go somewhere like this to escape?”

Without a hint of hesitation, his dark eyes find your own once more as he states, “Because you’re here.” A moment of silence passes between the two of you filled with the ceaseless chirps of crickets during which you attempt to mask any effects of your racing heart and the heat crawling up your neck at his confession. However, the shock that strikes you like lightning must be written on your face, since his eyebrows furrow slightly with confusion at your reaction, and he adds, “I thought I made it clear I come here to spend time with you.”

For a few seconds, your lips make quivering, unsuccessful attempts at forming words your vocal cords won’t allow you to voice before you direct your attention to the mug in your hands filled with tea, instead, and try to regain your composure enough to speak. “W-Well, I knew that, but why?” is all you can inquire with a quiet murmur.

His chest rises and falls in a deep, shuddering breath as a cool gust of wind whistles through the trees. At first, you wonder, with the slight glossiness to his eyes and his sudden inability to meet your gaze, if his emotions are the source of the tremors you notice in his jaw. However, the realization that he’s cold soon reaches you at the sight of his arms folding across his chest. Wordlessly and without thinking, you close the little distance between your bodies and drape part of your blanket around his broad shoulders.

“Thanks,” he mumbles, uncrossing his arms so one of his hands can hold the side of the blanket you’ve given him while the other plants itself on the grass behind you. The unexpected warmth radiating from him that seems to engulf you in the tight space you’re now sharing makes it hard to resist the temptation of resting your head on his shoulder.

“I miss my brothers,” is the gently spoken truth that leaves his lips, “I wanted to give them a better life. My failure to fulfill my role as their older brother is something that weighs heavily on me, even though I know they’d tell me they forgave me if I had been there in their final moments.”

Following his moment of vulnerability, the two of you find enough courage to make eye contact, and you struggle not to lose yourself in the seemingly endless depths of his midnight-colored irises. With your faces mere inches away, you’re granted a closer look at him than you’ve ever had before, and it seems, from the way he’s watching you so intently, that you’re not the only one enjoying the unexpected intimacy of the moment.

The muscles in his neck tense with a thick swallow before he continues, “But when I’m here with you, I feel like it’s okay that I’m still alive even though they’ve passed. You don’t look at me with hatred in your eyes or expect anything from me in exchange for my existence. You accept me as I am.” Another gentle breeze dislodges a few strands of hair tucked behind his ear that you naturally move back into place for him before your hand warm from the drink you’d been holding comes to rest against his cheek. “Why?”

His fingertips ghosting along your own neck and cheek leave sparks of electricity on your skin in their wake. But you manage to organize the thoughts threatening to escape your mind at the tenderness of his touch enough to whisper, “When you fought with me instead of against me, I realized that maybe the way I’ve been taught to view the world we live in isn’t entirely accurate. You risked your life to save mine. You defied the rules about the world I once thought were true. And because you showed me that you cared about my life, I want to do the same for you.” A hint of a smile playing at his lips brings a warmth to you that you don’t think even the heaviest of blankets could provide. Taking a deep breath to slow your heart—which had been racing since he’d locked eyes with you—you ask, “Is that why you want to come here?”

“Hmm?”

“Because you care about me?”

He nods earnestly as his thumb skims over your cheekbones, and the adoration glimmering in his eyes like the stars in the night sky above brings your face closer to his. With a timidness you wouldn’t have expected from him, his lips meet with yours in a short, fleeting kiss, as if he’s testing the waters. The way you chase his after they separate, though, serves as a silent confirmation and has him deepening the kisses your lips return to his to share. Given his relatively blunt yet quiet personality, you’re pleasantly surprised by the slow, sensual manner with which his lips move against yours. You’re sure the two of you could remain in this secluded part of the woods forever, under the cover of the shadows masking you from the pale moonlight as you lose yourselves in the moment, but the reality of the situation marks its painful return when you pull away.

“I care about you a lot, and I want to see you more often,” he breathes, “But the last thing I want is to put you in danger. That’s why I’ve been visiting every once in a while and in the middle of the night.”

Moving your hand to his shoulder to rub it gently, you murmur, “I know; I want to see you too, Chōsō.” In an instant, his arms are around you, pulling your body flush against his, and the action fills you with a bittersweet feeling, since this is only the first time you’ve been so close to him, yet you’re unsure of when you’ll get to share more affectionate moments with him like this one. “We’ll find a way to make it work,” is the promise you whisper into his neck while he nestles his face in yours.

After a few, long moments of silence have passed during which your mind exhausts itself by tirelessly attempting to form solutions to an issue you never could’ve imagined you’d have in your lifetime, you start to relinquish your grip around Chōsō. He, however, isn’t ready to do the same, and refuses to budge.

Instead, he answers your curious hum with, “I’ll let you go back to bed soon, but is it okay if I hold you for a little longer?” Even though fatigue is starting to settle in, you consent and wrap your arms around him once more, resting your head against the side of his and nestling your face in his hair as you let your heavy eyelids close. “I’ve just never felt this way before.”

“Which is…?”

Your heart flutters against his chest in cadence with his own against yours at his answer.

“Safe.”

#jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk spoilers #choso x reader #chōsō x reader

[seita]

— you love too easy | hitoshi shinsou (m.)

pairing: hitoshi shinsou/f!reader

genre: angst, fluff, smut

wordcount: 𝟾𝟹𝟾𝟶

cw: childhood friends!au, roommate!au

tags: unrequited love, pining, toxic relationship (oc x shinsou), brief kaminari x reader, cunnilignus, dirty talk, pet names, praise kink, fingering, size kink, loss of virginity, light virgin kink, creampie, squirting, angst with a happy ending

note: sorry if u like kaminari. i made him a huge douchebag in this. i swear i like him i just needed a character to be,,,,well, a douchebag.

— all your life you'd been by his side. you've loved him since you could remember. you've always been by his side so why did he give his heart away to everyone but you; the one who would treat it right?

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© all content belongs to seita 2020. do not modify or repost.  

He fell in love too easily. You knew that your entire life. He’d give his heart away to anyone and everyone, fully and with everything he had. He loved with every fiber of his being. And it always ended in disaster. 

You couldn’t count how many nights you’d spent by his side rubbing his back as he cried because his girlfriend lied to him, comforting him as he hunched over a toilet after crying himself sick because his girlfriend cheated on him, or forcing him to eat because he got so depressed after she ignored him. 

It was an endless cycle. 

Yet you were always there to build him back up -- to pick up the pieces. 

Ever since the first girlfriend he had in Kindergarten that lasted for 2 days and ended in his tears up to the girl he dated in senior year of highschool who cheated on him with her ex...you were the one to fix him. 

Yes, Hitoshi Shinsou fell in love far too easily and way too hard.

The thought that kept you awake every night, however, was why couldn’t it be you? You were the one who took the best care of his heart -- being the one to piece it back together every time it was broken. He didn’t need to love anyone else. If he just loved you, he would never have to worry if he just gave his heart to you. 

But he never would. 

Because he didn’t love you like you loved him. 

You’d known him since you were babies -- your parents were friends in highschool and it went on well into adulthood. 

Naturally, the two of you grew close -- it was inevitable. Your crush on him developed in childhood -- you two got lost in the mall after you strayed away and he kept you safe and calm until you found your parents, his hand clasped tightly around yours as he let you cling to him. That was the first time you realized he made your cheeks feel warm and your tummy fluttery.

Your parents always joked that the two of you would fall in love and get married. It was nearly impossible for that idea not to be imprinted in your mind. 

Except, it was never an idea he entertained. 

Part of you felt foolish. You were a grown adult with a crush that you’d harbored since childhood -- pathetic, one-sided crush at that. 

The thing was, unlike Shinsou, you’d never dated before. It was never something you desired. Sure, you had confessions and love letters but you’d never once accepted them. You just couldn’t see yourself being with anyone but him.

Upon graduating, the two of you realized how terrible it was to be 18 trying to make it in the adult world. After a few years of fumbling and nearly getting kicked out by not making your rent payments on time, you decided that rooming together would be the best idea. 

It was a foolproof plan; you’d known each other for your whole lives so it wasn’t like you’d suddenly hate each other, you knew he was responsible with his money and you were too, and he was a quiet, chill guy so there wouldn’t be any obnoxious ruckus. 

What you didn’t think about, however, was him bringing girls home. 

“This is Aoi,” he introduced, motioning to the smiling girl beside him, “Aoi, this is _____...she’s my best friend.”

“And his roommate,” you added, holding your hand out politely.

“Oh you...live together?” you didn’t miss the distaste in her tone as she reached out to give you a weak handshake, pulling away as quickly as she could. She immediately wrapped her arms around his and he leaned how to press a kiss to the top of her head. 

Ouch. That made your heart hurt. 

Of course, it was nothing new. This was something you’d been through time and time again. 

What you hadn’t accounted for, was her dislike of you. Naturally, his past girlfriends hadn’t always been fond of you -- after all, you were a big part of their boyfriend’s life. And jealousy was a fickle disease. 

But Aoi’s dislike bordered on hatred and disgust over you. Every chance she got, she was pulling Shinsou away from you with some thinly veiled excuse. It seemed your best friend was none the wiser as well. 

You couldn’t blame him -- he was in love. Unfortunately. 

Aoi’s glares were ice cold, often sending shivers down your spine when she set it upon you. It was uncomfortable to say the least. She was at your place often enough for you to take up the art of avoiding her.

That is until one day when things seemed to come to a head for her. You weren’t sure what  you did but you found yourself cornered in the kitchen one evening while Shinsou was taking a shower -- leaving just the two of you alone. 

“Listen to me,” Aoi spat, arms crossed over her chest, making her look petulant, “You need to back off of Toshi.”

“Uhh...what?” you grunted, looking up from the glass of chocolate milk you were pouring.

“Stay away from him!” she spat.

“We literally live together,” you rolled your eyes, capping the pint of milk, “I can’t stay away from him.”

“You know what I mean,” she hissed, clearly pissed off by your sarcasm. She marched up to you, grabbing your upper arm in a vice grip, her acrylic nails pinching your skin, “I see the way you look at him. I know that look in your eye. You love him.”

Your mind blanked, mouth opening but failing to produce any words. She smirked smugly, stepping back and crossing her arms again.

“I…” your brows came together as you shook your head, finally putting the milk away.

“I knew it,” she huffed, “You can’t take him from me. Toshi is mine so you better remember that. You have no idea what I can do to you.”

With that parting threat, she stormed out of the kitchen back to Shinsou’s bedroom. You felt tears sting your eyes, feeling utterly humiliated by her. 

Another thing about Hitoshi Shinsou is he’s terribly dense sometimes. You had no idea how he managed to miss the horrifying tension between you and Aoi. But he somehow did. 

The three of you sat in the living room -- the two of them cuddled on the couch while you curled up under a throw blanket with your phone open to Twitter on the loveseat. They were watching some movie Aoi picked out that you knew Shinsou hated, but he watched it anyway. The thought made you bitter.

You’d never make him watch movies he hated. That’s just selfish. 

You let out a sigh, catching your best friend’s attention immediately.

“What is it, darlin’?” he asked, the usual pet name he used for you making your stomach flutter. Aoi’s eyes narrowed in distaste at it but he paid her no mind.

“Oh, I’ve just got a bit of a headache,” you mumbled, locking your phone to look over at him.

He frowned, concerned, pulling his arm from around his girlfriend’s shoulders. She whined at the loss, attempting to pull him back but he paid her no mind.

He disappeared from the living room to the kitchen. You could hear the refrigerator open before he began shuffling around the cabinets.

“You’re not slick,” Aoi hissed, keeping her voice low, “Why don’t you just go away. Don’t you think he’d prefer to be alone with his girlfriend? You’re just a third wheel.”

You didn’t get to reply before Shinsou returned, holding a glass of your chocolate milk and a couple pills. He smiled, handing everything to you before taking a seat with Aoi again. She immediately clung to him with a whine.

“Thank you Toshi,” you smiled, popping the pills in your mouth before taking a quick gulp of the milk. 

“Anytime, darlin’” he smiled, turning his attention back to the movie he hated. 

Part of you felt prideful that he was willing to pull himself away from his girlfriend to take care of you. She clearly saw you as competition and you couldn’t deny the giddy feeling it gave you when you proved to her that you meant something to Shinsou. 

You noticed very quickly when Shinsou stopped calling you by his nickname. It baffled you and you didn’t hesitate to bring it up to him.

“Ah, Aoi mentioned she doesn’t like it when I call other girls pet names,” he rubbed the back of his neck in that familiarly anxious way of him. He was avoiding your gaze, further ticking you off.

“I’m not other girls, Hitoshi,” he visibly cringed at hearing his full name, “I’m your best friend. You’ve always called me that.”

He sighed, biting his lip, clearly torn, “Sorry _____,” you frowned at the sound of your name. It seemed so foreign hearing it where he’d usually call you ‘darlin’’, “She is my girlfriend and it’d be shitty of me to neglect her wishes. I want this to work, you know?”

You rolled your eyes, arms crossing over your chest, “This is stupid Hitoshi.”

He sighed, clearly growing annoyed as well, “Look, you’re just my friend, alright? So back off.”

Your jaw fell open at those words, tears already starting to sting at your eyes, “Just your friend? That’s low, Hitoshi. I am not just your friend and you know it.”

He groaned, running a hand through his already messy hair, “You’re starting to sound jealous and clingy, _____. It’s not a good look.”

Feeling that the tears were going to spill any moment, you shook your head and stormed past him, “Screw you Shinsou.”

You slammed your bedroom door, missing the sight of him burying his face in his hands. Hearing you address him by his last name was even worse than hearing his first. 

Things remained tense between the two of you for a week. You had really been hurt by his words. You always thought you meant a lot to him -- that you’d never be the person who was pushed aside for a relationship. You never thought Shinsou would do that. 

As a result, you made no effort to even speak to him. Sometimes you’d pass him while he sat on the couch, Aoi snuggled up to him. Whenever you made eye contact with you, she held this smug, superior look that made you want to clock her. 

You’d never hated a girlfriend of his more.

Finally, Shinsou gave in. He couldn’t stand not having you to talk to. There was this heavy feeling lingering on his shoulders every time he thought about the cold way you called him by his last name. He never wanted to be addressed like that by you. 

There were a series of knocks on your door and you paused, debating on ignoring him. He knocked again when you took too long to answer.

“Come in,” you groaned, putting your laptop aside to give him your attention.

“Hey,” he smiled half-heartedly as he slipped into your room, closing the door behind him. 

“What do you want?” you asked, no bite in your voice.

He sighed, taking a seat beside you on the bed, “I want to apologize for what I said. I know that hurt your feelings so I’m sorry.”

You were quiet for a moment before you sat up straighter, “Hitoshi...I don’t want you to become a different person because of a girl.”

“What do you mean?” he frowned. 

You sighed, “I think she’s a bad influence on you, Toshi.”

He softened briefly at your use of his nickname but it was quickly replaced by a cold stare that sent shivers down your spine, “A-A bad influence? I’m not a kid, _____.”

You frowned, “You don’t have to be a kid to be negatively influenced by another person's toxicity, Hitoshi.”

“You think she’s toxic?” he scoffed, standing up, “You don’t even know her. You’ve barely even spoken to her.”

“Well the bit that I have spoken to her was not pleasant,” you spat, moving to sit at the edge of the bed with your feet on the floor, “I don’t think she’s good for you.”

“What are you, my mother now?” he growled, spinning around to glare at you, “Maybe I was wrong...maybe you are just jealous.”

“How am I acting jealous?” you cried, growing frustrated, “Caring about your wellbeing is jealousy now?”

“Oh get off it,” he groaned, “What’s she done then, huh? Tell me.”

You paused, remembering her threat. But you were so pissed off you couldn’t keep it in anymore, “She’s threatened me to stay away from you. She’s so insecure about our friendship she threatened me over it! Said you were hers and I better remember that. She’s crazy!”

“She didn’t say that,” he argued, eyes narrowed maliciously, “You’re just making shit up to make her look bad now. That’s really low, _____.”

“You asked me to tell you what she did and then you just don’t believe me?!” you screeched, tossing your hands up in exasperation.

“I thought you’d tell me the truth, not make up some pathetic lie!” he shouted, making you flinch. 

“Pathetic?” you breathed, shoulders sagging, “Is that what you think of me?”

He was quiet for a moment, jaw set. He seemed to be thinking his words carefully, which made his next even more painful, “Yeah. I do. This jealousy and lying of yours is pathetic. I get if you don’t like her but don’t make up shit about her,” he made way for the door, yanking it open, “Grow the fuck up, ______.”

You didn’t get a chance to reply before he was slamming your door shut. All at once, your emotions came crashing down and you buried your face in your pillow to silence your sobs. 

Your eyes fluttered open and you groaned, feeling your head pound. A glance out the window showed that it was nighttime. You had fallen asleep. 

You climbed out of bed to your desk to find your packet of headache pills. You let out a sigh of relief as you swallowed them down with the bottle of water sat on your nightstand. Flopping back into bed, you closed your eyes and attempted to relax your body. 

Just as it seemed that you were going to fall back asleep, there was a loud noise from past your door. You frowned, your eyes fluttering open in confusion. 

It came again and it took you a moment to realize what it was. A woman’s moan. 

“Toshi!” you heard her squeal, making you flinch.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” you hissed, feeling those tears come burning their way back. 

“That feel good, baby? Let me hear you,” he growled and your hands flew up to cover your ears to muffle the sounds of her pleasure. 

This was low for Shinsou. Sure, he’d had sex with girlfriends before but he always made sure to keep it down for your sake. Now he was just doing it to dig at you. 

He wasn’t wrong about your jealousy but you knew he thought you were jealous over his attention being taken away. But that wasn’t the case at all. It was because you were in love with him. 

Now he was forcing you to listen to him fuck the girlfriend you literally had a fight over. This wasn’t like Shinsou at all. 

She really was just a terrible influence on him but he was too in love to see it. She was making him into a different person and you hated it. It was happening so quickly. 

As you laid in bed, tears wetting your bed as you hid your head under your pillow, you couldn’t help but think.

The stupid fool really fell in love way too easily. 

Things went from bad to worse astonishingly fast. Aoi was over more often than she had been before. The snotty comments and humiliating words from her every time you saw her and the cold, deadly glare Shinsou set on you whenever you came anywhere near his girlfriend was wearing on you. 

You were unhappy. It was an emotion you rarely ever felt around him -- Shinsou was always the one to pick you up, not put you down. It got to the point where he wouldn’t even respond to your greetings or questions, giving you the complete silent treatment. 

It hurt. 

To escape the suffocating negativity of your apartment, you picked up even more shifts at work. The video game shop became a place you found solace in. 

If Shinsou noticed your absence, he didn’t make it known to you. 

“Will that be all for you today?” you asked, plastering on a fake, customer service smile onto your face.

“Yeah, I guess,” he mumbled, slapping down a few bills to cover the charge, “But I think I’d like to add your number to my receipt.”

You took a moment to look at him. He had blonde hair with a lightning bolt of black through it. He was dressed in black jeans, a t-shirt, and a leather jacket. He was cute, you’d give him that.

“Is that the best you could come up with?” you asked, opening the register with a brow raised.

He giggled, making you smile despite yourself, “I was on a time crunch I didn’t want to miss my chance.”

“Who said you had a chance to begin with?” you asked, passing him his change, “3.14 is your change.”

“Well, I was hoping you’d give one to me,” he shrugged, stuffing the change into  his pocket before grabbing the bagged video game he’d purchased. 

You gazed at him for a moment. He was charismatic and cute. He liked video games just like you. And he’d be a great distraction.

“Sure, why not?” you mused, watching his eyes go wide.

“Wait really?” he gasped, a grin stretching across his face.

“Did you think I’d say no?” you asked. 

“U-Usually I get rejected so…” he shrugged, scratching the back of his head with a cute blush reaching his ears, “Anyway, when’s your shift end?”

“Um...closing time, so about 8:30,” you replied, glancing at the clock. 5 hours left. 

“Sweet, I’ll pick you up!” he grinned.

“I-I’ll have to change though!” you complained, making him pause and shake his head.

“Don’t worry about it!” with those parting words, he bolted out the door, the bell chiming to signal his departure. 

As he disappeared from view, you realized you didn’t even know his name. 

You would come to find he was Denki Kaminari; a college student majoring in graphic design. He had a friend named Katsuki Bakugou who was as loud as he was angry. Eijirou Kirishima was a kind, chill guy who mellowed out the explosive Bakugou well. Mina and Sato, two friends-turned-lovers, were a common source of laughter for the group. 

You were together for a little over a month and a half when he finally asked to meet your friends. Truth be told, the only person you could consider a friend would be Shinsou. You had acquaintances and those you hung real casually with but Shinsou was the only person you’d consider a friend.

Well, you weren’t sure if he could even be called that anymore. 

Eventually, you gave in and decided to bring Kaminari to your apartment. 

“Whoa, nice place,” he mumbled, looking around. 

“You think so? Thanks,” you smiled, leading him towards the living room, “Like I said...things are...tense between me and Hitoshi so…”

“Who’re you?” a familiar voice came from the entry of the hallway. 

Shinsou stood there, messy hair and tired eyed wearing basketball shorts and an oversized t-shirt. His eyes burned holes into Kaminari, who visibly shrunk beneath the heated glare. You took note of how Shinsou didn’t even look at you. 

That still hurt.

“I’m Denki Kaminari,” the blonde replied, approaching Shinsou to shake his hand, “I’m _____’s boyfriend!”

You didn’t miss the shift in Shinsou’s look, his eyebrows perking up ever so slightly. His gaze finally shifted to you before he scoffed from his nose, making you wince. 

“Alright,” Shinsou mumbled, shoving his hands into his pockets before turning his back to the both of you, stalking back to his room with a slam of the door. 

Kaminari winced, “Boy, you weren’t kidding.”

“Yeah,” you sighed, motioning him to follow you, “Let’s head to my room. I don’t know if Aoi is here or not and I don’t care to find out.”

“I kinda wanna meet her too,” your boyfriend whispered, lowering his voice so it didn’t carry to Shinsou.

“No you don’t,” you chuckled, shutting your bedroom door once the two of you were safely inside. 

You sat beside him on the bed, reaching for your remote to click the TV on for background noise. He cuddled in beside you, commenting on how soft your bed was. 

“You smell really good,” he suddenly whispered, nosing at your neck. 

You blinked in surprise, moving your head so he could get a better angle, “Th-Thanks…”

He hummed as you shivered once he pressed a few soft kisses against your neck. It tickled a bit but also sent a strange tingle down your spine the more he kissed. Your heart hammered in your chest and you briefly wondered if Denki could hear it. 

He cupped your jaw, pulling you into a deep kiss. His tongue met your bottom lip, making you sigh against his lips. 

You barely noticed his hand crawling up your shirt until it snuck beneath the band of your bra. The unfamiliar feeling of someone cupping your breast had you pulled away, tugging on Kaminari’s hand to pull him away. 

“W-We shouldn’t…” you whispered, unsure of how to reject him, “W-With Shinsou the way he is…”

Kaminari looked skeptical for a second before nodding his head, “Got it.”

And that was that. 

At least you thought until he began trying more and more. It became common for you to find his hand up your shirt. The feeling made you uneasy, making you realize you really weren’t ready to have sex. Kaminari was your first boyfriend and you weren’t willing to give everything up to him like that.

“Why do you always stop me?” Kaminari asked one day, voice soft and reassuring.

“I just…” you cleared your throat, biting your lip, “I don’t want to go that far yet.”

He was quiet for a moment before smiling and nodding his head, pulling you closer to him with a kiss to your forehead. Your body relaxed, thankful that he wasn’t angry with you like you had feared he would be. 

He began following your wishes, no longer attempting to go past kissing. You were thankful. 

Unfortunately, your bliss didn’t last long because next thing you knew, he was dumping you. Over text. 

You had just got home from work, your feet aching and dread pooling in your stomach at the idea of being home. You were so tired of being scared to come home, it was exhausting. Shinsou was sitting on the couch, eating something he’d made himself for dinner with his back to you. He didn’t even show any signs that he knew you were home. 

Lingering by the door, you pulled your phone out to check your notifications. 

One from Denki made your heart stop -- the preview text already displaying what you feared. Your fingers were trembling as you unlocked your phone to look at the message. 

As you read it, the words grew blurrier until tears began to drip onto your screen -- further obscuring the words there. 

A small whimper escaped your throat, despite the way you tried to choke down any sounds. You quickly scurried to get to your bedroom when a strong hand snagged your wrist. Wide eyed, you were spun around to find Shinsou wearing a frown and furrowed brows. 

“Why are you crying?” he asked, voice stern with concern. 

You shook your head, feeling pathetic. You didn’t like Kaminari that much. Truthfully, you were mostly dating him to get away from Shinsou. But the idea that you were dumped because you wouldn’t have sex was utterly humiliating. Your first real boyfriend dumped you because you wouldn’t put out. 

“You were right,” you sniffled, unable to hold back the sob that tore through your chest, “I am pathetic.”

He didn’t have the chance to even think of a reply before you were escaping his hold to hide away in your bedroom. You haphazardly stripped and changed into your softest set of clothes, deciding you were going to wallow in your own self pity for the night. 

Your humiliation overshadowed the fact Shinsou had shown you the first sign of care in weeks. He had reacted to your crying just as he always had and instinctively moved to comfort you. 

You could hear muffled voices from the hallway, one male and one female. The fact he brought her over after you just had a near meltdown in front of him irked you and only brought more tears forth. 

A sense of anger rushed over you -- you didn’t want her there. This was your house and you didn’t want her there while you were going through it. You had half a mind to go out there and kick her out, maybe Shinsou would let it slide since you were clearly having a tough time. 

What you didn’t expect were the shouts coming from them. You frowned and walked towards your door, cracking it open to listen to their shouting from the living room.

“You’re kicking me out?!” Aoi cried. 

“I’m not kicking you out,” Shinsou sighed, “You don’t live here. I’m just asking you to go home for the night, Aoi.”

“Why should I?” Aoi argued, “Because she’s upset? Who cares!”

“I care!” Shinsou snapped.

Aoi scoffed, “Oh yeah, since when? Last I checked you picked me over her!”

“I didn’t pick anyone over anyone,” Shinsou huffed.

“Really?” Aoi’s tone was dripping in sarcasm, “You haven’t paid her a second of attention since your little fight. I doubt you even noticed how she’s been working full-time instead of part-time. Why do you think that is? To get away from you! Not that I give a shit, but you have been treating her like dirt. So don’t even try and pretend you give a shit, I know you don’t. You only feel bad because she’s crying. Once she gets over it you’ll just come back to me in the end. So just let her sulk by herself, she’s a big girl.”

Shinsou was quiet after that. You were sure he wasn’t even going to respond but you continued to stand there and listen. The apartment was silent, you could even hear the ticking of the decorative clock Shinsou’s mother had given you both. 

“She was right, huh?” he finally whispered.

“Huh?” Aoi replied, clearly annoyed.

“I really did let you turn me into someone else,” he sighed, “God, I’m so stupid.”

“What the hell are you talking about, Hitoshi?” she snapped, growing impatient over the argument. 

“You should leave,” Shinsou said, voice strong once again, “You and I are done.”

“What?!” Aoi shrieked, stomping her foot, “You can’t dump me! Not for her!”

“Get out, Aoi,” Shinsou growled, yanking the front door open.

She scoffed, “Don’t come crawling back to me when you learn she isn’t worth it.”

The slam of the door signalled the end. Silence ensued and you slipped back into your room, letting your door shut silently. 

Just as you expected, there were a few soft knocks on your door. You didn’t reply but he opened up anyway, peeking in to find you sitting on the bed with your head hung.

“I assume you heard all that,” he said, cupping the back of his neck nervously. 

“Yeah, kind of hard to miss,” you mumbled, feeling awkward about sharing this moment with him.

You didn’t look up when he sat down beside you. With a sudden tug, you found yourself wrapped up in a sweet embrace. 

“Why were you crying? Did something happen with that Kaminari dude? Did he hurt you?” his concern brought forth a new flood of tears that you let go. 

“He dumped me,” you whined, clinging to the front of his shirt.

“Why?” he asked, petting your hair softly.

You scoffed, shame building up inside you, “Because I didn’t want to have sex with him.”

Immediately he pushed you back by your shoulders to look at your face, “He dumped you ‘cause you wouldn’t fuck him?”

“Yeah,” you mumbled, avoiding his gaze, “He said he had needs and he wasn’t willing to wait for me to put out.”

“Jesus,” Shinsou scoffed, shaking his head, “What a prick,” he pulled you into his chest again with a sigh, “It’s good you didn’t sleep with him then. He wouldn’t have been worth it.”

“Yeah, I would have regretted it,” you nodded, “I’m not even sad he broke up with me. I just feel like shit that it was over sex. He was my first boyfriend and I got dumped because I wasn’t ready...that sort of feels shitty, you know?”

Shinsou nodded, resting his cheek atop your head, “I understand. It’s like a blow to your self-esteem, yeah?”

“Exactly,” you sniffled, your tears finally coming to a stop as he held you and let you talk, “I didn’t like him enough to sleep with him anyway. Even if I was ready.”

Shinsou chuckled, “Well, I’m glad you’re not heartbroken over it.”

You were quiet for a long moment before you pulled away from him, “How are you? I know you liked Aoi.”

Shinsou frowned, looking at his hands in his lap before shrugging, “I actually don’t really feel anything.”

“Really?” you asked, surprised. Usually he would be in tears by now. But he was right, there wasn’t even an ounce of sadness in his eyes.

He nodded, “All I really cared about was you. I guess realizing what she really was wiped out anything I felt for her. Truthfully, it was probably going to be over soon anyway.”

“Why do you say that?” you asked.

“We just didn’t have good chemistry, I suppose. The sex was great but beyond that we didn’t really share any common interests,” he explained, leaning back on his hands with a sigh.

You cringed at the mention of sex -- remembering the night you sobbed as you were forced to listen to them go at it. Shinsou seemed to notice your discomfort, leaning up straight once more to take your hands in his. 

“I’m sorry, ______,” he breathed, making you look up at him, “I was such a fuckin’ asshole to you. You didn’t deserve that and if you chose to never forgive me I would understand. But I promise I will never let a girl come first again. You’re my best friend, you’re the entire world to me and you will always be here when all the girls leave, I know that. No one can ever replace you.”

His words caused a flood of tears to flood down your cheeks again. You threw your arms around his shoulders, tugging him into a desperate hug. He wrapped his arms around your waist, fisting the back of your shirt with his face buried in your neck. 

“I will always be here, Toshi,” you hiccuped, “I really will. It doesn’t matter if you choose the next 50 girls over me, I would never let you go. I would rather live with you ignoring me and making me cry over not having you at all.”

He sighed, tears of his own falling from his eyes and wetting your skin but you didn’t mind, “I would never ask that of you.”

“You don’t have to,” you whispered, voice trembling. You couldn’t stop the next words from coming, you didn’t even try, “That’s how strong my love is for you, Toshi. I would do anything for your happiness. I’ll let you cry on my shoulder when girl after girl breaks your heart, even though it hurts so damn much because I know I would never, ever let you down like that. I’ll sit with you in the living room while another girl is wrapped in your arms, desperately wishing it was me, because you want me and her to be friends. You don’t even know it but you have every bit of me,” your voice broke as you let out a sob, taking a stuttering breath before continuing, “I never dated because I only ever loved you. You’re the only one I ever want to love. I don’t even care if you don’t feel the same, Toshi, I just needed you to know...I have loved you since we were kids. Whenever your mom joked that we would get married, I used to go to sleep hoping it would come true one day. You’re it for me, you know?”

Shinsou was still, every muscle in his body tense against you. You remained relaxed, relishing in being held in his arms even though it very well may be the last time you would ever experience it. His tears had stopped and you could feel his hands trembling against your back from where he was still holding your shirt in tight fists. 

Finally, slowly, he pulled away. You avoided his gaze, scared of what you may find there. With trembling fingers, he lifted your chin until you were finally forced to meet his gaze.

“______…” he whispered, your voice like honey on his lips, “Is that true? Since we were kids?”

You chuckled through your still falling tears, “Remember that time at the summer festival when I wandered off and you had to chase me? And I got scared because I couldn’t find our parents? When you let me hold onto you and you kept reassuring me that everything was okay…” you shrugged, your voice cracking as you uttered, “I knew I loved you then. And I love you to this day.”

His wide eyes were glassy as he stared at you, mouth agape in his shock. It was so much for him to take in. 

Before you knew what was happening, he was leaning in and pressing his lips against yours. Your vision went white for a second in shock at the feeling. 

His lips were soft and as you began to kiss back, you tasted coffee on his lips. Typical of Shinsou, it was late at night and he was still drinking coffee. The thought made you smile and you wrapped your arms around his neck to deepen the kiss. He cupped the back of your head, a soft sigh escaping him as he moved his lips expertly until you were breathless.

After a long moment, he pulled away. The both of you were panting, eyes lidded as you processed what just happened.

“Toshi…” you whispered, feeling euphoric after kissing him, “I don’t understand.”

He shook his head, cupping your cheek, “All you need to know...is that I love you too.”

You gaped at those words coming from his lips. Surging forward, you pressed your lips against his again. He smiled into the kiss, leaning further against you until you were forced to lay back against the mattress. His body was hovering above yours, held up by his elbows on either side of your head.

He wasted no time in touching your body, years of desperation finally culminating into this one moment. His hand slid beneath your shirt, pushing the hem up to expose the soft skin of your belly.  He paused at your ribs, unsure if you were okay with him going any further. But when you gripped his wrist and urged his hand up to cup your breast, he threw away those inhibitions. 

Thumbing your sensitive nipple, you keened as they hardened beneath his touch. He leaned down a bit more to press his lips against yours. 

You lost yourself against his lips, whimpering and grinding against nothing. Just the fact the man you’d loved for so long was there touching you after years of craving it had your panties soaked. 

“You’re so pretty,” he whispered, breaking from the kiss to kiss down your body. 

You trembled beneath him, watching him with rapt attention as he kissed the exposed skin of your stomach and ribs. Sighing, you let him push your shirt over your head to discard off the side of the bed. He leaned forward, enveloping one of the pert buds in his hot mouth, tonguing at it until you were whining and begging him to give attention to the other one. He did so eagerly, providing a stimulating suck before finally pulling away. His lips were swollen and his cheeks were flushed, the very fact you made him that way was dizzying. 

“Wanna taste that perfect cunt too, baby,” he growled, voice losing the soft, sweetness it once held. 

“O-Okay,” you agreed easily, raising your hips so he could tug the last remaining articles off of your body. 

The second you were bare, his hands were pinning your thighs open. His eyes examined every inch of your pussy -- taking in the juices dripping from your clenching hole. 

“You’re so fucking wet,” he groaned, using his thumbs to spread your folds apart, “so pretty too, god. Look at you...you’re perfect. Bet you’re so sweet…”

“Please Toshi…” you whimper, reaching down to tangle your fingers into his hair.

His eyes fluttered at the feeling, allowing you to pull him to your pussy where he eagerly ran his tongue flat between your spread folds. You gasped, eyes slamming shut as he paused to wrap his lips around your clit for just a split second. The teasing touch was addictive and you suddenly wanted more. 

Shinsou understood what it is you wanted and quickly dove back in for more. Circling his tongue around your clit, your back arched. You wanted to close your thighs against the stimulation but his strong hands kept your legs pinned open. 

He swirled his tongue quickly, moaning before enveloping the bud in his hot mouth. You tugged his hair, crying out his name as you felt a high approaching rapidly. He looked so good between your thighs, eating your cunt like you’d dreamed of for ages. 

Suddenly, he pulled away, licking his lips before sitting up.

“Fuck, tell me babygirl,” he breathed, “You gonna let me fuck this pretty cunt?” you nodded, reaching to push his shit up but he stopped you, looking you in the eyes, “Use your words. Tell me.”

“Yes, please fuck me Shinsou!” you begged.

He grinned, pressing a kiss against your lips before stripping himself of his clothes. 

You almost gasped at the sight of his cock. He was big; long and thick. Subconsciously, you clenched your thighs together in anticipation. 

“You ready?” he asked, scooting to sit between your spread legs. 

You tensed up as he prodded your entrance with the fat head of his cock. He realized how tense you were and ran his hand along your thigh to soothe you, “You good? You can back out anytime, darlin’.”

You swallowed thickly, feeling your cheeks heat up as you looked at him through your lashes, “I-It’s just...go slow?”

He frowned, brows drawn together before he backed away from you a bit, “Is this your first time, sweetheart?”

Licking your lips, you hesitated before nodding. Shinsou sighed, hanging his head to rest against your collarbone. You frowned, “I-Is that bad?” you asked. 

Truth was, you never wanted anyone but him. You never had a desire to have sex with anyone but him. You knew he was the one person you’d never regret being with. 

“No!” he sat up, eyes wide before wrapping his hand around the nape of his neck nervously, “I just wish you would have told me sooner...that was almost bad.”

“Why?” you asked,making him chuckle. He shook his head and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“Well…” clearing his throat, he looked off to the side bashfully, “My dick’s not exactly the smallest around and since you’re a virgin you could do with...a lot more preparation, you know?”

Your cheeks were ablaze from the bluntness of his words. He didn’t waste another second in bringing his hand to your still wet pussy. 

He sighed, a smile lingering on his lips as he worked his middle finger into your tight hole. Humming, he bit his lip as he slipped his ring finger alongside it. You sighed, eyes fluttering at the mild stretch that came along with it. 

“Feel okay?” he asked softly, working the two fingers in and out of your hole. 

You nodded, “Feels good,” you breathed. 

Your eyes fell closed as he crooked his fingers upwards to touch that sweet spot on top. Your hips jumped at the sensation, ripping a moan from your swollen lips. He smirked, burying the digits deep, licking his lips at the way your juices gushed out from around them. 

With his other hand, he found your clit, circling the bud with his thumb as he worked his index finger into the mix. The added stimulation to your clit made your wall clench tightly and he grunted, imagining what it would feel like around his cock. 

“Please Toshi,” you begged, “I want you already.”

“Thank you’re ready?” he asked, although he already knew the answer. 

And he was right when you whimpered out a pathetic little, “Yes!”

He resumed the position from earlier, his tip pressed against your entrance. It was opened a bit from his three fingers but he knew it was still going to be a tight fit. 

He took your hand in his, lacing your fingers together as he began to sink into your cunt. You whimpered as your walls stretched around him, squeezing his hand. He bottomed out quickly, stilling to let you adjust to being stuffed so full of his thick cock. 

“Does it hurt?” he asked, pressing a kiss to your lips. 

“N-No…” you mumbled, “Just...feels weird.”

He chuckled, kissing your lips again. He could feel you squeezing around him, your cunt unused to having such a big cock inside. The fact he was your first, the one taking your virginity -- tainting your pure body was turning him on more than he ever thought it would. 

He couldn’t even lie and say he’d never taken a cherry before but with you it was different. He felt a sense of pride and possessiveness wash over him; you were his completely. You had given him your heart and your body. 

Burying his face in your neck, he pressed kisses against the sweet spot he easily found there. Grinding his hips against yours, he stirred your insides with his thick length until you were arching your hips to get more of the addictive pleasure only he could bring you. 

He pulled out halfway, slowly sinking his cock back inside with a groan.

“That’s a good girl,” he praised, eyes glued to where your cunt was stretched around him, “Taking me so well, look at that.”

“Feels so good,” you whimpered, clutching the sheets beneath you in your fists.

“Yeah?” he grinned, pulling out so the tip remained only to surge forward and sink his cock into you in one long thrust. Immediately, your back arched and you let out an erotic moan that had his cock throbbing against your walls, “Fuck, my cocks almost too much for you but you’re bein’ such a good girl for me, aren’t you? Taking what I give you...fuck…”

His praise and dirty words went straight to your core. He set a steady pace, making sure to angle his hips up so he could hit your g-spot. The pleasure had your eyes rolling back and you cried out his name every so often, making his heart race. 

“Sound so pretty sayin’ my name…” he groaned, cupping your breasts in his hands as he fucked you, “Pussy’s so tight and wet...I can feel you dripping, you know that? Who would have thought such a pretty cunt could get so messy. But you only get this messy for me, right darlin’?”

“Only you!” you babbled, wrapping your arms around his neck to press your lips against his. He moaned into your mouth, reaching between your bodies to circle your clit, “Fuck! Toshi, y-you’re gonna make me cum!”

“Fuck,” he groaned, “Do it then, sweetheart. Go on, cum on my fucking cock.”

A few more thrusts and circles over your swollen bud had you falling over the edge. Your body trembled and arched beneath him, cunt spasming around him as he worked you dutifully through your orgasm. 

Once you came down, he pulled his hand from your clit and pulled out. You were panting, body limp and relaxed as you let him move you onto your hands and knees. Keeping your face buried in the pillow, you allowed him to maneuver you into the proper position. 

He pressed his hand down on the small of your back, “Arch your back for me, good girl.”

“Th-This is embarrassing, Toshi…” you whispered into the pillow. 

He hummed, gripping his cock to direct himself back into the sweet vice of your cunt, “No reason to be embarrassed, kitten. It’s just me...you can trust me.”

“I-I know...but still…” you whimpered, eyes fluttering as he sunk his cock deep inside. The position allowed him to reach a new depth. 

“Do you want to stop?” he asked softly, running his hand along your spin. 

You hesitated for a second, focusing on the pleasurable sensation of being filled so completely before shaking your head. He grinned, leaning down to kiss your shoulder blade, “Good girl.”

The praise went to your head and you suddenly had a desire to receive more. You wanted to be good for him -- be his good girl. 

You lifted your head from the pillow and cried out his name, fucking yourself back against his cock. He grinned, slapping your ass lighter than he usually would do it -- he wasn’t sure how you would take to it. When he felt you clench around him in response, he grinned. That was something worth looking into it seemed. 

“Toshi…” you whined, reaching back to grip at his hip.

He hummed, slowing ever so slightly, “What is it, kitten?”

“Please…” you whined, feeling your cheeks flush with embarrassment over what you desperately wanted to ask him.

“Please what?” he whispered, kissing your shoulder blade again, “Tell me what you need, baby.”

“C-Call me...y-your goog girl again…” you whispered, immediately burying your face in your pillow. 

He paused, eyes wide before another grin grew across his face. Wrapping his arm around your waist, he pulled you up until your back was pressed against his chest. You cried out, his cock stilling inside you as he pressed his lips against your ear.

“You like being praised huh?” he asked, chuckling when you nodded, leaning your head back to rest on his shoulder. He enjoyed the fucked out look on your face, “Like being my good girl, hm? Such a pretty, sweet girl for me…”

You whimpered, walls clenching around his still cock, “I-I love you Toshi…”

He hummed, reaching down to find your clit. Circling over the bud, you keened, eyes fluttering as your cunt clenched tight around him, “I know you do, sweetheart.”

Suddenly, your walls squeezed, clamping down tight. He groaned, cursing under his breath as he felt your body seize up in your orgasm, trembling and gushing around his cock. He pressed his lips against your shoulder, looking down to where his length was buried completely inside. 

You began to rock yourself along his cock, your orgasm flying to new heights as he never stopped playing with your sensitive bud. 

Suddenly, he watched with wide eyes as your cum squirted out, soaking the bed and your thighs. 

“Shit,” he growled, providing a few quick slaps against your clit, making you squirt just a few more times, “What a good fucking girl you are. Look at the mess you made. You’re so perfect, I love you so much.”

Those words had you clenching once again. That finally sent him over the edge himself. He rocked into you, holding you tight against him. His cock throbbed, spitting hot cum into your sensitive cunt. 

He cupped your breasts, groaning in the throes of his orgasm as he pressed kisses against your shoulder, neck, and cheek. 

When he finally came down, he gently laid you on the bed, pulling his cock out. His cum gushed from your hole without his length to stop it. You cringed, the feeling unpleasant to say the least. 

He got out of bed to go to the bathroom intending to get a cloth to clean you with. 

When he was gone, you found yourself thinking about what just happened. One particular thought was on your mind and when he returned, you didn’t hesitate to voice it.

“W-We didn’t use a condom…” you mumbled. 

He hummed, “Were we supposed to? I thought you were on birth control.”

“I am...it’s just…” you frowned, clearing your throat as you watched him wiped your thighs and sensitive folds free of your mixed cum.

“What?” he sat beside you, fixing you with a steady gaze, urging you to confess your thoughts to him. 

“You were just...dating, you know...Aoi and…” you sighed, averting your gaze from him, “Other girls before.”

He chuckled, laying beside you, “What, you’re concerned I have something?”

“Well no...not necessarily…” you frowned as he cupped your cheek, making you look at him.

“If you must know…” he shrugged before continuing, “I always used a condom with them.”

“Really?” he nodded at your question, “Then...why with me?”

“Because you’re you,” he smiled, kissing your lips, pulling you to lay against his chest, “You’re the one for me, kitten. That’s all you need to worry about.”

Yes, Hitoshi Shinsou fell in love easily. But he never gave those girls his heart. He cried because he thought he could never have you. The truth was, you had always owned his heart. It had always been in your hands. 

#bnha x reader #shinsou x reader #bnha smut #shinsou smut #hitoshi shinsou x reader #shinsou hitoshi x reader #mha x reader #bnha imagines #mha imagines #mha smut #afton.writes

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Bound Blood (Cassandra Dimitrescu/Reader, Soulmate AU) Pt. 3

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T+ for language and violence Warnings: Choking (kinda) Summary: Local feral human makes a friend, tries to sleep next to local mean vampire, then gets a taste of their own medicine Previous Chapters: 1: Sharing Is (Not) Caring; 2: Bloodbath, Baby!

3: Haunt Me Dearly

What a lovely crimson mess I’ve made, you think, watching as the last of the bloody water drained from the bathtub. There were still several splashes of red along the sides, where you had leaned on or otherwise touched. Frowning, you considered whether or not to clean up after yourself. Surely it wouldn’t be one of your captors doing the cleaning? In that case, you think, I don’t want to make any enemies out of the servants. First you had to finish binding your wounds. Wouldn’t want to risk getting them dirty so soon after washing them, after all. Except you weren’t even sure that you could properly wrap them on your own, considering the positioning of your injuries.

“Ah, fucking hell…” You muttered, scowling a little. Then you remembered that Cassandra had sent a maid to wait outside the bathroom for you. Maybe they could help? Nodding to yourself, you threw on your new undergarments and pair of trousers, deciding to save the shoes for later. Once you were ‘decent’, you slowly opened the door, peeking out from behind it. Before long you were making eye contact with an unfamiliar woman, who looked very confused. “Any chance you could help me bandage my shoulder? I can’t do it without help, and something tells me Cassandra’s not going to lend me a hand.” With that said, you gave her a friendly smile, hoping to make up for the awkwardness of the situation.

“Of course! It is my honor to serve a guest of my Lady,” the maid- servant, maybe- said, giving a short curtsy. Admittedly you’re a little confused by her response. Still, you gladly welcome her assistance, moving back into the bathroom to grab the gauze. Although you intend to do as much as you can on your own, the woman is quick to take over completely. “Please, allow me,” she continued, carefully beginning to wrap your wounds.

“Are all the workers here so polite? I can’t imagine anyone actually enjoys working here, all things considered,” you mused, squinting at the middle distance. At that, the servant tenses up, clearly not expecting you to speak ill of her employers. Well, she had called you a guest. “Don’t be surprised, friend. Less than an hour ago I was fit to be consumed by ‘your Lady Cassandra’. Only reason I’m not dead right now is because of a stupid blood bond,” you explained, tone dripping with irritation. This time the servant doesn’t flinch at all, instead nodding slowly, taking a moment to let your words sink in. During this pause, you decide to introduce yourself, just in case the two of you might see each other frequently.

“I… see. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, no matter the circumstances of your presence here. You can call me Daphne, though I must warn you that I am not one for, ahem, gossip about my masters,” she replied, finishing her binding of your shoulder wound. Next she searched through the cabinet by the sink, looking for a medicinal salve of some sort. Once she found it she was right back to work. The substance stung a tad on your skin, but you could hardly complain, seeing as it would help fight off possible infections.

“You sure about no gossip? What if we call it ‘helping me get acclimated to my new situation’? I’m a fish outta water here, Daphne,” you suggested, turning your head to look her in the eyes. At first she ignored you, focusing on rubbing the medicine into your skin. Eventually she meets your gaze, briefly, and releases a quiet sigh.

“You are free to ask questions-” you start to celebrate, though not for long- “just as I am free to withhold answers. Though I may be more responsive if you can tell me one thing… Why was Lady Cassandra’s dress wet?” Daphne asked, making you freeze in place. Of course she wanted the one answer you didn’t feel confident about giving. She’s quick to notice this, though, and laughs to herself. “Well, I suppose some things must remain a mystery. Now let’s get your face cleaned up…”

-------------------------------

By the time you make it to Cassandra’s room, the sun is starting to rise, leaking in through the castle windows. Exhaustion weighs you down, making you want to fall immediately into the nearest bed. As it stands, that was none other than your soulmate’s, though it was currently occupied. For a moment you hover in her doorway, contemplating whether or not you should steal her blanket. Floor can’t be too bad, you think, right? Before you can decide you notice Cassandra stirring from her sleep.

“What took you so fucking long?” She asked groggily. Now she’s sitting up, blanket clinging loosely to her body, and you realize that she’s not wearing a shirt. Though a blush rishes up your cheeks, you’re certain it’s too dark for Cassandra to notice. Or at least you hope so. Wanting to think about something other than what she was (or was not) wearing, you focus your energy on responding.

“Isn’t it obvious? I got invited to a sick orgy on the way back, and I wasn’t about to turn that down, so…” You trailed off, gesturing idly with your hands. The movement stretches your shoulder more than you’d like, resulting in an ache that lasts several seconds. It distracts you to the point where you almost can’t catch the object Cassandra promptly throws at you. “What the hell…?” It’s a shoe, as far as you can tell, that definitely would have hurt, had it hit its intended target. “Such a lovely gift, babe. I will treasure it for the rest of my days, forever keeping it as a reminder that you-” your tone shifts from a false joy to deadpan- “are a piece of shit. Now, seriously, where am I supposed to sleep? Is there a walk-in closet I can camp in? Or do I get the bed, while you sleep in a fucking coffin or something?”

Before Cassandra has a chance to respond, you’re walking further into her room, wanting to take a quick look around. There’s a large dresser that you quickly toss her shoe inside, as well as a window sill with a built-in reading nook. Trading your tiredness for sheer dickery, you throw open the curtains, letting the light pour in (and nearly blind you in the process). Half of you expects your soulmate to screech in response. Maybe even turn to ash. Instead, you hear her moving, and you turn to find her laying back down, facing away from you.

“When you’re done fucking around, come over here and sleep. I will knock you out if I have to,” Cassandra muttered, still sounding half asleep. As much as you wanted to know if she’d go through with her threat, you are exhausted. Begrudgingly you approach the bed. It’s certainly large enough for two people, even having enough room for you to be completely separate from each other. When you start to climb in, you find yourself overwhelmed for a moment, surprised at the quality of the sheet fabric. Exactly how rich were these vampiric assholes? This room alone seemed to be worth more than you had ever known.

This was, perhaps, the one bright side to your situation: A comfortable state of existence. Well, as comfortable as one could get in a place like this. So lovely on the outside, a muse worthy of a thousand artists, yet hiding far darker horrors within… much like the woman you now found yourself laying beside. Why me? Why her? What could possibly bring the two of us together, you think, other than a cruel fate? There’s a pain in your chest, dishearteningly similar to heartache. Damning the universe, and your blood bond, and yourself, you think ‘fuck it’ before sliding closer to Cassandra. One arm drapes itself over her waist, while you slowly lean your head against her back.

In an instant she’s tense, not even breathing, waiting for you to reveal whatever trick hid up your sleeve. But no trick comes, just your hand meeting hers, squeezing softly. Suddenly the tension is gone. None remains, not even lingering in the air, and the two of you soon drift off to sleep...

-------------------------------

Shaking, body made a wreck through tremors, tears staining her cheeks. Breathing comes hard, each shift of her lungs bringing with it a mighty ache. Someone’s holding her, whispering sweet nothings in her ear, fingers tracing circles against her back. But she’s lost in her dream, eyes clenched shut. Visions flash before her gaze like lightning in a storm. There’s no time to process, no opportunity to prepare for the thunder that follows. Every strike is a punch to the gut she can’t ignore. When release finally comes, it is not a gentle kiss to her forehead, or a reassuring hand on her own, but rather an intense surge of pain that jolts her awake.

Cassandra nearly screams as she sits up, hands reflexively going to hold her head. One of them stings, bad, and she notices what look like bite marks on the side. For a moment her confusion acts as a welcome distraction. Then she’s looking next to her, and the puzzle practically puts itself together. There you are, one hand in your mouth, an eyebrow raised as you stare at her. Ignoring the lingering memories of her dream, she turns all of her rage towards you. Quickly she grabs ahold of your arm, forcefully yanking your hand out of your mouth, even though it makes your teeth dig in a little deeper. It takes more willpower than she wants to admit to stop herself from strangling you right then and there.

“I didn’t know monsters could even have nightmares,” you taunted. Before you know what’s happening, Cassandra is lunging towards you, pressing her forearm against your throat. There’s just enough pressure to make talking difficult. Both of her yellow eyes are filled with hatred, aimed right at you, but you can’t help but laugh. “Ya know, I did try to wake you up nicely. I should have known you only respond to violence. Next time, though, I’ll remember to stay a safe distance away.”

“You don’t know anything, dipshit. Anyone else would know better than to spout so much fucking ignorance, but nobody taught you how to behave, huh?” Cassandra growled, applying more pressure with her arm, leaving you unable to reply (for once). “You’re a goddamn mutt, aren’t you? Thrown to the street like the garbage you are, left to live in the gutter, feeding off of trash like a fucking cannibal. You should be honored to be allowed anywhere near me. You should be worshiping me, for fuck’s sake!” Black dots form in your vision, a dark halo edging into the corners of your eyes, as your lungs beg for air. But you’re grinning. You’re showing your teeth, bright and proud, knowing full well that you have won this round. As soon as realization dawns on Cassandra’s face she’s pulling herself off of you.

Still, you are left gasping, clutching at your neck as she hurriedly gets dressed for the day. By the time you can see properly again, she’s left without another word. Even as she stalks down the corridor, eagerly rushing away from you, she hears your laughter howling through the castle. It digs into her brain, taunting her. Soon enough you’ll stop, light headed, but she will still hear it echoing inside her mind. You’ll haunt her just as much as her wicked dreams. Hopefully more.

#cassandra dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu x reader #resident evil: village #re8 village #blunt teeth sharp tongue #cassandra gets a turn to be a dick #>=3

[midgardianweasley]

Movie Night

Movie night

Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: It’s friday night, or more commonly known as movie night for the Avengers. A horror movie was put on and Y/N isn’t feeling so brave, luckily she’s got a Romanoff nearby.

Warnings: coulrophobia (fear of clowns), mentions of the IT movie and pennywise.

Word Count: 2.5k

Идиоты. - ‘Idiots.’

Requests are open!

“I vote action movie”

“We watched an Action movie last week, Sam.” Steve pinched the bridge of his nose, briefly looking up and meeting my eyes, earning a small smile in return, attempting to provide some sanity for the man.

“Plus, do you not think we’ve had enough action for one week?” Bucky grumbled, this week having taken a toll on everyone. We were all exhausted from our missions, some more than others, the soldier being one of them.

“Okay okay, no action, damn” Sam put his hands up in defeat, accepting that he wasn’t going to win this one. A few more options had been suggested, Bruce suggested rom-com, Thor suggested comedy, Vision proposed a documentary, all of which were shut down with groans and sounds of protest.

I turned to my assassin girlfriend who had been sitting beside me watching the scene unfold with an amused smirk on her face, her green eyes darting around the room whenever someone else spoke and taking sips of the drink she had in her hand. I nudged her slightly to get her attention

“Hey.”

“Hi”

“If it was up to you, what would you choose for movie night?” I asked. She morphed her face into a thoughtful one, still with a slight smile on her face, taking time to make her decision.

“If it was completely up to me? I would-”

“Aha!” Tony interrupted with a loud snap of his fingers. “I know, we haven’t watched a horror movie in a while, and the new IT movie just came out, we can watch that” He smirked, proud of his contribution to the discussion at hand. I looked around the room, praying that they would pick anything else, literally anything, even Vision’s documentary.

Unfortunately, everyone seemed to be really into it as they all shared nod’s and “yeah” “sounds good” before splitting up to go and get their snacks and blankets to bring back to the large sofa.

Although I wouldn't admit it to the rest of the group, I was absolutely terrified of clowns and have been since I was a child. If there was a clown at a birthday party or an event, I’d pretend I was sick so that my mum wouldn’t make me go. She soon noticed a pattern in my behaviour, putting the pieces together and realising that I hadn't come down with the flu three times that month, I was avoiding the ‘entertainment’ of the parties.

She tried explaining that it was just a guy in makeup and a funny suit, showing off fun tricks and jokes. However, 9 year old me still refused to attend, faking a sneeze and hiding under the blanket.

“Woah, Y/L/N, you good over there?” Tony furrowed his brows, concern written all over his face. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

I wish it was a ghost.

I regained my composure, nodding and sending a firm smile his way, hoping that would be enough to prevent any further questioning. With a shrug, he made his way out of the room and caught up with Thor to explain what ‘IT’ was.

“You don’t look so good, sure you’re okay?” Nat placed her hand on my back, rubbing small, reassuring circles with her palm. I wanted to put on a brave face and tell her I was fine, that there wasn’t a problem and my heart wasn’t racing with fear, but the look on her face, while caring and concerned, was also warning me not to lie to her. Not that i’d manage anyway, she always had ways of finding out the truth eventually.

I shook my head, letting out a small sigh and turning in my seat to address her. My eyes met hers and I felt my heart settle slightly just by looking at her, she always made me feel safe.

“What’s wrong sweetheart?” She whispered, her hand coming up to rest on my cheek, her thumb stroking my cheekbone in small movements.

“It’s so silly, really.”

“Nothing is silly if it’s upsetting you Detka. Tell me.”

“It’s this movie.”

The confusion was obvious on her face, yet she stayed quiet, allowing me to elaborate.

“I just, I’ve never been the best with clowns. Ever since I was a child, I’ve had this fear of them. If I saw one, I’d run in the opposite direction, which was more often than one would think. I mean, seriously, who wants one of those things at a party? What happened to princess parties? Or tea parties!” I exclaimed, my tone becoming more intense as I spoke.

Natasha nodded, I could almost see the cogs turning in her head, figuring out how to approach the situation. After a minute or two, she focused her eyes back on me and her hands had trailed down to meet with mine, interlocking them in the process.

“Do you want to skip it tonight?” She suggested.

“No, no, I don’t want to cause a fuss. Plus, I kinda don’t want the others knowing.”

“Are you absolutely sure? I’m sure we can pull a sickie for one night.”

“I’m sure. Just, can you stay next to me? And let me hide if it gets really bad?”

“Of course you can. I’ll be next to you the whole time.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

___________________

We were at the haunted house scene in the movie. There had already been jumpscares that I'd managed to avoid for the most part, but I don’t think I've moved past Georgie’s death yet, let alone have time to process the psycho killer clown on the screen.

Eddie was in a room alone, he was staring at this dirty, old fridge and a white hand had appeared, curling itself around and tapping on the side so you could only see it’s fingers. I tugged the blanket that was laid across Natasha and i’s laps and pulled it up to my nose, eyes still on the screen, but prepared to take cover. It appears as though nothing has changed from all those years ago.

As the fridge door creaked open, my blanket had raised higher and higher, my grip tightening by the second while the hand reappeared, this time, you could see it’s entire body contorted into this small space.

“Nope. No, absolutely fucking not. No.” I mumbled, covering my eyes with my fluffy shield. Luckily, Nat had stolen the sofa at the back, meaning I could skip the scary parts without anyone taking much notice, them being too entranced by the movie. Weirdo’s.

In my safety bubble I'd created, I felt my girlfriend’s hand on my thigh, rubbing small circles to reassure me that I was okay, and that she was here. I shuffled a little so I was closer to her, if that was even possible, her then adjusting so that her hand was still on my thigh, but another arm was wrapped securely around me, pulling me into her side a little more.

I assumed we would stay like that for a bit, until she started to shift more noticeably and lifted the part of the blanket closest to her, and put it over her own head, taking me by surprise, a faint gasp leaving my lips when seeing that she’d joined me.

“You doing okay under here?” She spoke softly, a hint of amusement playing on her face as she looked at me folded up into a ball.

“I am. This blanket protects me from all.”

“Of course it does, the fluffier it is, the more protection, right?” She quoted words i’d spoken earlier on when bringing in the blanket for us.

“Are you sure you’re not going to boil under there?”

“Nope. And even if I do, the fluffier the blanket, the more protection from cannibal clowns.” I’d explained proudly. Yes, I'm an Avenger that fights extraterrestrials and demigods and still runs to a blanket for safety, leave me alone.

We stayed under there for a minute or two, holding hands and sharing small kisses while the movie continued and we hid in our little bubble.

“C’mon lovebirds, the movie isn’t over yet, you can continue that when we’ve gone to bed if you must.” Stark called out, causing Natasha to roll her eyes and retreat back to her previous position.

I don’t know what ran through my mind, I clearly didn’t think twice about the situation I was in, my default being to follow Natasha and pull the blanket down and off my head. Upon resurfacing from my cocoon, I looked towards the Television. Bad idea. With a shriek that I'm almost certain could be heard from Asgard, I flew under the blanket again after seeing Pennywise with all of his teeth on show, edging towards Eddie to eat him.

Natasha’s arms wound their way around me again, slightly shaking now from the fright. Even though the blanket tended to muffle sounds, I could hear the room fill with laughter and comments from the Avengers.

“I didn’t know your voice could go that high Y/L/N”

“Pennywise! You scared Y/N!”

“Y/N, it’s literally-”

“How about you guys shut up and watch the movie? Otherwise I swear to god Thor, I’ll bring snakes in here and Sam, I’ll cut the wings off of your suit.” I heard the redhead next to me threaten, alongside some more punishments to the others who laughed, immediately silencing them, all of them knowing that she wasn’t one for an empty threat.

Even though the laughter died down and no more words were spoken, tears still built up in my eyes and were daring to fall down my cheeks. I feel so embarrassed. A room full of superheroes and I was scared to death over a fictional clown in front of all of them.

I tried to keep my sniffles to a minimum and at a level where no one could hear me, however, they seemed to have caught Nat’s attention as she whispered to me, loud enough for me to hear, but quietly so that it was only me that could hear.

“Mind if I come in?”

I chose not to verbally respond, instead, I pulled the edge of the blanket up, allowing her to bend down and make her way underneath. After making herself comfortable, she turned to me and did, what felt like study, my face before tutting under her breath.

“Идиоты. Are you okay?” I smiled at her speaking Russian. She often switched between the two, interchanging within sentences. I’d been around her enough to pick up on some of the terms, funnily enough she’d said that word so often, my understanding was immediate.

“Feeling a bit humiliated” My voice came out weak and slightly gravelly from the crying, her thumb immediately wiped the tears off of my cheeks, lingering afterwards.

“Don’t be. Everyone has their fears, you shouldn’t be embarrassed by having them. Okay? It just means you're human.” She patiently explained, sparking a question to leave my lips before realising.

“Do you have a fear?”

She smiled “mhm”

“Can I know what it is?”

She leaned in closer to me, lips hovering beside my ear so I could feel and hear her breathing quietly.

“Идиоты” She whispered, resulting in me clamping my hand over my mouth to limit the noise my laughter was making.

“There’s that smile I love.” She took my chin in her index finger and her thumb, her face once again, coming closer towards mine before our lips met in the middle, sharing a soft, quick kiss, distracting me from any embarrassment i’d previously felt.

________________

The movie had just finished, everyone was getting up and starting to clear up any mess they’d made, mainly popcorn that had fallen everywhere, Wanda and Vision being the main culprit, jumping at the scary parts had caused a popcorn avalanche near their seats.

Nat and I gathered our blankets and snacks we’d brought in, trying to ignore the slight tension hanging in the air, and just as we were about to walk to our bedroom, I felt a tap on my shoulder. It was Peter.

Rocking back and forth on his heels and fidgeting with his hands, he smiled.

“Hey, uh- miss Y/L/N. Miss Romanoff, sorry, I just wanted to come and make sure you were okay.” He rushed, clearly anxious to approach us considering the telling off Natasha gave everyone earlier.

“I’m okay, thank you Peter. You can call me Y/N by the way, ‘miss’ makes me feel old.” I chuckled, visibly seeing his shoulders relax at my response, he was really sweet, never wanting to get on anyone’s bad side. He’s a good kid.

“Sorry mi-,Y/N, sorry, I’ll remember for next time. That movie was pretty freaky, if there’s anything I can do to help, let me know.”

“I will, thank you.”

Feeling more relaxed, I made a slow but steady beeline for the bedroom, wanting to have cuddles with Nat and go to sleep, hopefully forget the movie ever happened. Soon enough, we were both changed into a vest top, I wore a pair of shorts and Nat wore a pair of sweats and we were in bed, facing each other with our legs tangled together, our noses bumping every so often.

“I love you” I mumbled in between kisses, eyes opening briefly to be met by her green orbs looking back at me.

“I love you more, Detka.”

A silence then overtook the room, only being able to hear the breeze outside and a slight whistle from where it was flying through the trees. I’d usually adore this, finding peace in the wind and the darkness, tonight however, it felt unsettling. All I could hear in my head was the soundtrack to the movie, picturing the bloody teeth and that creepy smile from earlier in my head.

“Love?” I nudged my girlfriend’s nose gently, hoping she was still somewhat awake.

“Mhmm?”

“Can you, can you possibly sing to me?” Her eyes fluttered open, a sleepy smile on her face, wrapping her arms tightly around me before humming a quiet melody, sending me into a blissful sleep.

By noon the next day, I had received apologies from everyone in the compound, a couple of bone crushing hugs from Thor and some complementary pancakes that Wanda had made with some help from Bruce, aprons on and covered in flour. Everyone tucked into their individual stacks, enjoying some lighthearted conversation, Nat taking the opportunity to press a small kiss to the back of my hand, I quickly returned the gesture. It was lovely.

Movie night was a rollercoaster, but at the end of the day, I was surrounded by the best people, and nothing would change that, not even the fear of clowns.

Though they’re still really fucking scary.

taglist: @the-dumbass-that-throws-knives

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