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#i hope it works properly . as intended

clarissaexplainingitall · 2 years

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i just want to thank that one AO3 user who, after reading my radagon piece, went through and read + left really sweet comments on all my soulsborne fic, along with everyone else who left such fun and kind comments on the radagon fic too

I've been like extremely burnt out from the latest health catastrophe but like. this makes me want to write, and has been really helpful in getting my brain to at least finish up drafting the next couple of things I wanted to work on (remembrance is up first though) in spite of the energy limitations. still pretty sick, but took a very long weekend, so i'm hoping that tomorrow i will have some energy amidst the organ issues and the house stuff to actually put brain to keyboard and finish up that next chapter

#fueling my desire to continue chugging along honestly like some of the comments made me laugh when i really needed it #but yeah thanks everyone did not intend to take that long of a hiatus #just need working adrenal glands and also a more functional GI system which will hopefully start being treated properly soon #i have a drafted ranni and blaidd piece and also a marika fic because i have to affirm that i respect womens wrongs #but also have been fucking playing three hopes to kill time at docs and on planes to docs and that fucking game may actually do it #i swore off writing FE fic and yet. now i'm like what if i edit my old tellius shit what if i write for three hopes #medical shitshow

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cy-cyborg · 8 months

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Writing and drawing amputee characters: Not every amputee wears prosthetics (and that's ok)

Not every amputee wears prosthetics, and not doing so is not a sign that they've "given up".

It's a bit of a trope that I've noticed that when an amputee, leg amputees in particular, don't wear prosthetics in media its often used as a sign that they've given up hope/stopped trying/ are depressed etc. If/when they start feeling better, they'll start wearing their prosthetics again, usually accompanied by triumphant or inspiring music (if it's a movie). The most famous example of this is in Forest Gump, Where Dan spends most of the movie after loosing his legs wishing he'd died instead. He does eventually come around, and him finally moving from his wheelchair to prosthetics is meant to highlight this.

The thing is, it's not that it's unrealistic - in fact my last major mental health spiral was started because one of my prosthetics was being a shit and wouldn't go on properly, despite fitting perfectly at the prosthetist's the day before. I'm not going to use my legs when I'm not in a good headspace, but the problem is, this is the only time non-prosthetic using amputees ever get representation: to show how sad they are. Even if that's not what the creator/writer necessarily intended, audiences will often make that assumption on their own unless you're very careful and intentional about how you frame it, because it's what existing media has taught them to expect.

But there are lots of reasons why someone might not use prosthetics:

they might not need them: this is more common in arm amputees because of how difficult it can be to use arm prosthetic, especially above-elbow prosthetics. Most folks learn how to get on without them pretty well. In fact, most of the arm amputees I know don't have prosthetics, or only have them for specific tasks (e.g. I knew a girl who had a prosthetic hand made specifically for rowing, but that's all she used it for).

Other mobility aids just work better for them: for me, I'm faster, more manoeuvrable and can be out for longer when I'm in my wheelchair than I ever could on my prosthetics. Youtube/tik tok creator Josh Sundquist has said the same thing about his crutches, he just feels better using them than his prosthetic. This isn't the case for everyone of course, but it is for some of us. Especially people with above-knee prosthetics, in my experience.

Other disabilities make them harder to use: Some people are unable to use prosthetics due to other disabilities, or even other amputations. Yeah, as it turns out, a lot of prosthetics are only really designed for single-limb amputees. While they're usable for multi-limb amps, they're much harder to use or they might not be able to access every feature. For example, the prosthetic knee I have has the ability to monitor the walk cycle of the other leg and match it as close as possible - but that only works if you have a full leg on the other side. Likewise, my nan didn't like using her prosthetic, as she had limited movement in her shoulders that meant she physically couldn't move her arms in the right way to get her leg on without help.

Prosthetics are expensive in some parts of the world: not everyone can afford a prosthetic. My left prosthetic costs around $5,000 Australian dollars, but my right one (the above knee) cost $125,000AUD. It's the most expensive thing I own that I only got because my country pays for medical equipment for disabled folks. Some places subsidise the cost, but paying 10% of $125,000 is still $12,500. Then in some places, if you don't have insurance, you have to pay for that all by yourself. Even with insurance you still have to pay some of it depending on your cover. Arm prosthetics are even more expensive. Sure, both arms and legs do have cheaper options available, but they're often extremely difficult to use. You get what you pay for.

they aren't suitable for every type of environment: Prosthetics can be finicky and modern ones can be kind of sensitive to the elements. My home town was in a coastal lowland - this means lots of beaches and lots of swamp filled with salty/brackish water. The metals used in prosthetics don't hold up well in those conditions, and so they would rust quicker, I needed to clean them more, I needed to empty sand out of my foot ALL THE TIME (there always seemed to be more. It was like a bag of holding but it was just sand). Some prosthetics can't get wet at all. There were a few amputees who moved to the area when I was older who just didn't bother lol. It wasn't worth the extra effort needed for the maintenance.

People have allergies to the prosthetic material: This is less of a problem in the modern day, but some people are allergic to the materials their prosthetics are made from. You can usually find an alternative but depending on the type of allergy, some people are allergic to the replacements too.

Some people just don't like them.

There's nothing wrong with choosing to go without a prosthetic. There's nothing wrong with deciding they aren't for you. It doesn't make you a failure or sad or anything else. Using or not using prosthetics is a completely morally neutral thing.

Please, if you're writing amputees, consider if a prosthetic really is the best mobility aid for your character and consider having your characters go without, or at least mix it up a bit.

For example, Xari, one of the main characters in my comic, uses prosthetics unsupported and with crutches, and uses a wheelchair. They alternate between them throughout the story.

#disability #disabled #id in alt text #writing #writing disability #disability representation #authors of tumblr #write #writeblr #writers on tumblr #writerscommunity #writer #creative writing #writing tips #writing resources #writing help #writing advice #writing disability with cy cyborg

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readychilledwine · 9 days

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Pieces of You pt 3

Summary - After losing Feyre to childbirth, Rhysand finds himself leaning on one of her friends much more than he'd ever expected.

Warnings - self doubt, slight manipulation, discussion of moving forward after the death of a spouse, hurt people hurting people, HOFAS spoilers *slightly* (a lot of us had this theory to begin with and I just played with it to fit this)

A/n - It can only be uphill from here, right?.. Special thank you to @honeybeefae and @thehighladywrites for helping me think through how quickly I should let reader and Rhys move on, and for convincing me that I should continue writing this. (Ps friends - sorry I can't tag you. I evidently hit the max tag amount with my taglists.)

✨️ Pieces of You Masterlist ✨️

The 3 month milestone had changed your and Morwenna's lives forever. Rhys had finally convinced you to move into one of his homes. He was insistently whispering to you over and over that the small cabin wasn't going to work anymore, that Cassian and Azriel barely fit inside it, that once his Little Mor and sweet Nyx began to move you four would need more space.

It had been also heartbreaking, entering the home Feyre had crafted, each room so individually thought of for who it was intended to belong to. Above all else, though, it had been lonely.

It wasn't your home. It wasn't the finely crafted wooden arches your mate had assembled by hand. It wasn't the rooms you had spent hours picking colors for. It wasn't cozy. That lack of security and warmth was why you were once again up at 3am. Despite the babies now sleeping for longer chunks of time, you never did. Regardless of if it was a night Rhysand spent at your side or one he spent tucked into the room he had shared with Feyre.

You leaned your head back against the exterior of the home, looking up at the glittering sky, and it finally happened.

3 months of mourning in silence. 3 months of screaming into your pillow. 3 months of stress, of anger, of overflowing love, 3 months of feeling like a shell of the female you were, of feeling as though your body was no longer yours, it crashed into you like a tidal wave. And it swept and destroyed everything in its path.

Rhysand shot awake in bed, feeling something was off. His chest ached, begging him to get up, to move, to search. He pulled on pants, glancing at Nyx and Morwenna sleeping peacefully, but you, once again, had not come to the room. He waited for the wraith to appear, feeling her just moments after he called. “Is it y/n,” Nuala nodded to the question, moving to admire the sleeping babes. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong. She is mourning. That is her right.”

Rhys sighed, moving to your room without hesitation. He had hoped getting you out of that house would help. He had hoped the luxury he could offer you would have helped. He knocked on the door, listening for the broken come in that followed. “Why haven't you come to bed?” You were taken back by the question, taken back by him holding that perfectly tanned hand out. “Come to bed. Let me hold you until those sorrows melt away for the night.”

He knew you didn't feel it. That soft string that had made him scream, made him question all he knew about love and life. Part of him hoped you never did. Part of him hoped he would never have to explain to his family how it had taken him a miniscule 3 month period to fall in love with you and for a Mother given mating bond to snap. Part of him hoped he would never have to experience losing you, to add you to his list of things he would bury too deeply to properly mourn.

“I was unsure if I was wanted there.” That hand reached for yours, clasping it. He was so warm. Always so warm. You could bask in his warmth like he was the sun if given the chance. You shook the feeling mentally, though. “It is-”

“Our room,” he finished softly. “It is our room. Where our children are sleeping. Come to bed.”

Morning came much too soon for Rhysand. It had come much too soon for you as well. You took both of the babes, laughing as they spoke to each other in a language only they knew. They had begun taking more interest in each other, in toys, in the world. They were making life the greatest adventure, even if a lingering pain came from both of you seeing them smile so brightly.

It happened at the worst possible time. You were holding Nyx, forearm under his little tummy and letting “fly” as he worked so very hard to stretch his growing wings. Rhysand was watching you from the doorway, Morwenna on his hip as she looked up at him. Her thoughts were jumbled baby speak, all so happy. Nyx's were elated and fast. When you looked to the doorway, your wide smile fell as that string finished itself and settled deep into your chest.

Rhysand had never watched someone's mental walls fall as quickly as yours did. The silence in the room almost made the giggles of the two unknowing parties fade to background noise. “I was shocked too, darling. It's okay.”

Rhysand had dinner without you that night. He flew to the House of Wind with Nyx to eat with the Inner Circle. He wanted to give you time. He remembered the moment Azriel and Nesta came home, questioning their bonds after exploring those damned caves with the Quinlan girl and learning how the Cauldron had been corrupted. He knew you needed to process. He had too after all.

He took his seat trying to ignore the one that sat empty next to him. Everynight a plate was still sitting there. Even when you came, that chair sat empty, plate untouched. It was a screaming sign that the Inner Circle had not moved in. That they may never move on.

“It just makes the two mates theory make more sense,” Cassian and Amren were deep in a debate again. “If the Daglan, asteri, whatever the fuck we want to call them, did something to the Cauldron to ensure the mating bonds were taken over by it's creation for breeding purposes, then the existence of a Mother Blessed Bond must also be there.”

Amren sighed, “So which do you two have then?” Nesta stiffened at the question. “A Mother Blessed Bond is meant to be true love. It's who we are technically meant to find as a soul mate. A Cauldron made Bond is evidently strictly for breeding. Which do you two share?”

The table hushed. It was a valid question and point. “To continue,” Amren took a drink from her glass before setting it down with a gentle click. “If we come out and tell other courts about this, how many other fae will begin to question their bonds? Kallias and Vivienne? Tamlin and Briar? Helion and Saraya? Lucien and Elain? How do we even begin to prove which bond is which? Does it mean they love that mate less? Rhysand would not have loved Feyre less regardless of the bond type. He will never remarry. Never move on.”

Azriel flicked his eyes to Rhysand. He knew about the bond Rhysand shared with you. He had given Rhysand his blessing to move on and pursue. He had asked his brother to find happiness again. He watched the words land on Rhysand's features, watched his eyes dull.

“If Rhysand did find a new mate,” Azriel spoke softly. “We would all support him moving forward with the bond.”

Nesta scoffed from next to Cassian. “Imagine being that poor female. Living in the shoes of Feyre Cursebreaker. No one could compare.”

But you did, didn't you? Rhysand's grip on his thigh tightened before relaxing. You were just as special, as kind, as loving. You were beautiful. Gods knew you were absolutely beautiful. You were selfless.

“I wouldn't want to try to sit in her place. I would reject the bond,” Mor sipped her wine, leaned back with one arm across her stomach.

Cassian and Azriel both looked to where Rhysand was dead silent. “I need to take Nyx home. He's getting hungry. I'll be right back.”

When Rhysand came back to the House of Wind without his son, he had no intentions of coming back to you that night. So, he never did.

3 awkward weeks passed between you and Rhysand. 3 absolutely strange weeks of either heated kisses and touches or nothing. Not even a good morning. You sighed as you laid Morwenna and Nyx down in the nursery before taking the few strides to Rhysand's office.

He was avoiding you, and it hurt. It hurt knowing your mate, this beautiful unasked for second chance was avoiding you. He was hunched over his desk, reading over some papers and signing a few. “Are we going to talk about why you are avoiding me?”

“I am not avoiding you. I am busy.”

“Yes, busy avoiding me.” You sat across from him, feeling so cold and informal. It was as if you were nothing more than his employee. “Our children are asleep. We should talk about this while we can. I deserve to know if I did something wrong.”

He didn't even look up at you as he replied. “You didn't do anything wrong. As I said, I am busy.” This wasn't the voice of the male who coaxed you to sleep. The one who whispered his dreams to you. “You can go.”

The dismissal made the bond go taunt, and when he felt the first wave of your confusion and hurt, he locked it down more. “Rhys-”

“I think we should sleep in separate rooms again. Our relationship has crossed some lines.”

You blinked at him. Stunned and almost dead silent. “I don't understand where this is coming from?”

“It's the truth. I am your High Lord. You are my subject.” It killed him to say it. His own heart was screaming to stop, but that first brick wall now stood, waiting for the other 3 sides. “We cannot continue blurring that line.”

“You're my mate,” your broken whisper almost made him stop, but he dug in.

“Something we will need to discuss at a later date and time. Surely there will be away for us to reject the bond without causing a downfall and hurting your ability to nanny Nyx.” A second wall stood in place of you and his heart. He knew it was a low blow, and he watched your brows knit and mouth slightly open.

“Rhysand.”

“High Lord,” he corrected.

“Why are you doing this?”

“The bedroom you were in previously is fine.”

“Why are you acting like this?”

“I am establishing a boundary, y/n.” He watched as you began to cry, holding in his own tears as he did. “Our relationship needs to remain appropriate.”

"Do you not want me? We are blessed with this second chance, and you are just turning your back on it. Please, is it me? I know I am not the beauty she was, I know I am not as special as she was. But I'd fight to make you happy, for our children-”

"Nyx isn't yours. Stop acting like he is.”

He watched as you crumbled inside of yourself, that last wall forming around his heart by destroying yours. He didn't mean a single word, but how else was he supposed to save you? All the Mother had ever done to Rhysand was take and take.

You recovered from the blow quickly, nodding as you aggressively wiped the tears from your face. "You have the weekend to find someone else to do what I am. Wen and I are leaving.”

"You can't just take her from me.”

"Yes I can," he knew what was coming, that new bond screaming for him to stop this all. "You aren't her father. Stop acting like it.”

You wanted to slam the door as you walked away before his act fell, before he gripped his chest and warded the room to sob. Little Mor had quickly become his everything. That dark hair, that button nose, those deep blue eyes. She looked like his sister, but you didn't know that when you threatened to take her away. Hadn't known why all three winged males so quickly became attached to her.

And now he was losing her. He was losing you. He was losing everything.

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanagers @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr @eternallyelvish @azrielsmate3 @daughterofthemoons-stuff @meritxellao @aria-chikage @hungryforbatboys @lilah-asteria

Pieces of You Taglist:

@dr4g0ngirl @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @blueeclipsepaperstudent @thisblogisaboutabook @mybestfriendmademe @novalovi @rachelnicolee @sleepylunarwolf @sidthedollface2 @acourtofbatboydreams @bunnyredgirl @fandomrejects @bookishbroadwaybish @littlestw01f @la-petite-lapin @juniperberriesaries @anuttellaa @luvmoo @mirandasidefics @soph1644 @hungryforbatboys @awkardnerd @bruxa0007 @eerievixen @youvereachedthenearest-lovergirl @ghostlyrose2 @amygdtjhddzvb @marvelouslovely-barnes @batii-skies @emma-andrea1 @buckystevelove @slut4acotar @cauldronboilmetakemetovelaris @throneofshadows @sevikas-whore @thebeautifulmysteriesoflife @why4anne @miadialila @12358 @blushingfawnsposts

✨️If you are not tagged but your name is listed, Tumblr will not allow me to tag you for some reason!✨️

#acotar #acotar x reader #rhys acotar #rhysand acotar #rhysand x you #rhysand x y/n #rhysand x reader #rhys x you #rhys x y/n #rhys x reader #rhys fic #rhysand fic

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formulaforza · 8 months

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💐 hi my wonderful birthday girl !! so i was thinking about a dress coded lewis blurb (because i was born a lewis and ts girl) where they just get drunk together and there’s teases flying and stuff. keep it as brief as u wish <333

—you can take it off

lewis hamilton x merc!reader summ. thank you stephy i love u bad <3 inspo from... ur never gonna believe it... this. hope it's up to your standards my love. 2.7k (kind of got out of hand)

You were half-asleep and half-drunk the night of the Belgium Grand Prix. The air was cool, recycled like all air seems to be in hotels, smelled of too-strong perfume and was filled with the dull noise of elevator jazz. What had begun as a before-we-go-to-bed night cap in the hotel bar with Bono had turned into a seemingly never ending addition of guests.

Valtteri was first to join—never could pass up the opportunity to give you shit, to offer you job postings at Alfa Romeo that weren’t job postings at all—and with him around, there’s no casual drinking. You don’t try to keep up, not really, because you know you don’t stand a chance, but also because he would never let you. After all these years of being just a few months younger than him, he still calls you kiddo, still promises to call your parents when you’re out after dark, and always sends you a text after a race with some… questionable strategy decisions you’re catching flack for online.

A brief appearance from Toto and Susie, just long enough for them to know they had no business trying to go drink for drink with Valtteri, and then they’re wishing all three of you a wonderful summer break and retreating to whatever room is considered prestige enough for Motorsport’s it-couple.

And then there was Lewis, the last to arrive, who never called you kid, who never viewed you as one. He sits adjacent you in the red, high back leather booth and takes up a seat and a half, the toe of his shoe brushing against the side of yours, flashing you apologetic puppy dog eyes every time he bumps against yours.

It’s somewhere between drink number five and six that Lewis gets his first, insists on a toast to the summer break that officially began… six hours and fifty-three minutes ago. For a long season this and a too-short summer break that, you lot had a mouthful of things to complain about, but a million more to be grateful for. “To not having work for a month,” Lewis proposes, clinking his glass against yours, offering a quick wink and holding it up properly over the table.

“To no racing-talk for a few weeks,” Bono adds, clinking his glass against Lewis’.

“To summer-fucking-break,” Valtteri chimes in, laughing at himself before the rest of you get the chance to match it.

“To summer fucking break,” you repeat because you know there’s no better way to sum it all up.

Unlike the other two, you slowed down when Lewis joined, wanted to give him time to catch up, to give yourself time to meet him somewhere in the middle. A glass of water and a virgin rum and coke and another water and the night is still young.

“First summer break as the big boss, kiddo,” Valtteri remarks, and you have to squint to hear him through the alcohol-induced thickening of his accent.

“That’s right!” Bono laughs. Your cheeks run hot at their mention of your title, of your promotion following James’ departure earlier in the season. Lewis smiles against the rim of his glass, bumps his foot against yours and doesn’t give you apologetic eyes. No, he raises his brows so slightly you think you’re the only one that notices, which is probably exactly the way he intended it to be. “Little miss queen of strategy is making the big money now, got any big travel plans?”

Lewis clears his throat, and your eyes dart over to his almost instinctively. “You’re staying in London, yeah?”

He’s right. Your summer-break plans consist of four weeks of trying to remember what it feels like to do nothing, failing at that task pathetically, and spending the rest of the time meticulously picking apart every call you’ve made all season and imagining the million and one things you could’ve done differently and their billion and two outcomes.

You pick apart the drink napkin, tear it into tiny little pieces. “Yeah, yeah. Just staying home, catching up with friends and family,” you clarify, try not to sound as pathetic as you feel. It’s hard not to when you’re sitting next to the guy who spends his offseason snowboarding in Antarctica with his celebrity friends and his weeks off traveling to Paris fashion week for front row seats next to supermodels. Anything you say would sound pathetic to someone who makes thirty-five million a year.

“I love it,” he nods, stares right through you and into your soul so you know he’s being genuine. “That’s awesome.”

You nod, swallow hard, purposely angle your body away from his, to the rest of the group. “What about you guys?”

Lewis laughs, soft, quiet, completely under his breath. The kind of laugh that deserves to be bottled into a jar and kept on a shelf for safe keeping. You know he’s always laughed like that, even before he knew you, but in the last few months it just feels different. Good different, like he’s laughing just for you now instead of everyone else too.

You know you’re crazy, that he’s just Lewis being Lewis and you’re just single for the first time in a long time and also drunk. Not half drunk anymore, just drunk—even if you do think you’re meeting him in the middle, you’re not. He’s just chasing after.

“Back home, too,” Bono concludes. “Take a breather, might head up to the country with the family.”

“You’ll take pictures, yeah?” Lewis asks, starts to pick up the pieces of your napkin tear pile and move them in front of him like a kid who isn’t patient enough to share or destructive enough to rip up his own. You watch in your peripheral, the way he fiddles with the wet paper, gets it stuck to his fingertips. You can’t laugh, so you don’t, but you want to. You think he knows you want to.

Bono scoffs, nods while swallowing a sip of his drink—something dark, something pungent. Not what you would have pegged him for ordering, even after knowing him as long as you have. “So I can compare with the likes of you lot and,” he turns to Lewis, leers around you to emphasize the eyeline, “your million dollar vacations or,” and then the other way, back to Valtteri, “your olympic cycling events?”

Valtteri smiles, swirls his drink—gin, you think. Expensive. “Yes.”

“No chance.”

“I’ll be sure to send you a picture of me having a meltdown when I think about our side pods from the beginning of the year,” you chime in, because it’s not like they all don’t know you well enough to know exactly what you mean by spending time with friends and family at home.

“What sidepods?” Lewis chuckles.

“Fucking exactly,” you add, mirror his mannerisms without even realizing it, all the way down to readjusting in your seat when you’ve had your laugh.

“Could be worse,” Bono offers. “Could be last year.”

Lewis nods, holds his drink up in the direction of Valtteri across the table. “We never should have let you leave.”

He smiles, weak, lips pursed. “I could have told you that.”

The night continues on, all drinks and laughs and yawns, occasional remarks that it’s about time I head up, followed by another round, another joke, another comment about this, that, or the other thing.

You’ve always liked Lewis when he’s a little tipsy. He lightens up a bit, you can actually watch the stress drip from him like sweat, all the titles and the wins and the losses, they all just fall away when he’s relaxed like this. You’ve always liked him like this. Always. Before he was king of the world and before he was the prodigal son and every moment in between.

After every joke he makes—or, after every comment he makes that he thinks could be considered a joke—you find yourself laughing, because it’s Lewis and you have a crush on him and of course you do. And, without fail, everytime you laugh, he winks, like you’re in on some inside joke even though he’s making it to the whole table, like there’s some double meaning to all of his words that are meant just for you, just for the two of you to understand.

Somewhere in it all, it comes back to Lewis, because, well, it always does. “Is your back still bothering you?” Bono asks, and you think you already know the answer. You think you know, because you can’t remember the last time you;d seen him take careful consideration of his posture when he sits. Not even now is he sitting up straight, with his legs perfectly spread a shoulder’s width apart and his feet flat on the floor. Instead, he’s taking up more room than he needs to, all relaxed and comfortable on the leather booth bench.

He swipes his thumb over the condensation of his glass, looking up from the action at you, and then to Bono. “No, no. All good there.”

“All good?” Bono prods, because he was on the receiving end of a year and a half of complaints from Lewis.

Lewis nods, clicks his tongue on the roof of his mouth. “No Paracetamol in a month.”

Across the table, Valterri chimes in. “None?”

“None for my back,” Lewis says, and the whole table laughs. You just watch him, though, because who laughs better than he does? You could wax poetic about it without a second thought, the way that his lips upturn and his cheeks round and his eyes crinkle and go soft in a way that makes you feel like you’re the funniest person in the world even when you’re not making a joke. The way that his smile is brighter than anyone’s you’ve ever seen, and the way that if you look at it for too long, you think about how it would feel to run your finger along the gap in his teeth.

“That’s what I thought,” Valtteri mutters off the end of his laugh. “You're getting old.”

“Not too old to make half a million.”

The entire table’s heads fly to him. You gasp, an embarrassingly wide smile on your face. “You didn’t!” You almost yell, smacking his upper arm with a weak hand.

He mocks your gasp, makes it somehow more dramatic and over the top and laughs sweetly, shrugging your hand off his arm and letting his hand fall to your leg, bumping your foot with his again. “I didn’t.” The table chuckles, you pout, and then you realize that his hand is on your thigh, that it’s staying there quite comfortably, and that you mind it less than he does.

“Don’t be a tease,” you sigh, take a swig of your drink. Your knees are suddenly weak, like you know you wouldn’t be able to stand up if you wanted to. It’s like he can sense your change but can’t quite read it, because then he’s moving his hand back to his own lap, interlocking it with the other and resting it there.

He nods, suddenly shy, suddenly guilty. “It’s as good as done.”

Valtteri laughs. “Yeah, I’ve heard that one before.” You hear what he says, but you’re not listening, not really. Lewis stares into you like he wants to look anywhere else—apologetic eyes and a fear he’s taken a misstep. He hasn’t, you want to tell him. You haven’t, put your hand back, please. Silently, you try to convey what shouldn’t dare be spoken. “I’ll believe it when pen is on paper.”

He snaps his eyes away from you, back to Valtteri. You don’t follow suit, stay fixed on him, on trying— hard—to get your message across. “I’m telling you, they’re announcing it after the summer break.”

“Whatever you say, Mate.”

Bono nods around a mouthful of alcohol, sets his half-empty glass down with an incidental thud. “Who’s to say we still want your geriatric ass?”

Lewis raised his interlocked hands from his lap, to the tabletop, resting his elbows on the wood grain and rattling the empty glasses when he does it. He leans in towards the center of the table, even though the only person separating him and Bono is you. “Would you tell Schumacher ‘no?’”

“What was that?” You ask, your words a convenient excuse to lean in closer, to settle into a spot that much closer to him without raising any brows. To brace for the shift, you leave your hand on his thigh with less subtly than your original movement, but it’s okay. It’s okay—only Lewis knows where your hands are, and you don’t want it to be subtle, don’t want anything to be lost in translation. “I can’t hear you over your ego,” you smile, and your fingers dance up his leg just a few, careful inches.

He drops back into his seat, drops his hands back into his lap. Under the table, he grabs yours and laughs, but it’s stifled, stunted, not quite relaxed. “Very funny,” he humors, and moves your hand back. His stays too, though, and he crosses one leg over the other under the table. His thumb moves over the fabric of your slacks in shudder-worthy circles.

“Someone’s gotta check you,” you smile, nod in the direction of your tablemates without ever looking away from him. “These two won’t.”

Bono scoffs.“Are you kidding?”

Your smile grows. “How do you want me to answer that, Peter?”

“Damn,” Lewis laughs so hard he coughs. “She Peter-ed you. That’s cold.”

“You’re the one comparing yourself to Michael fucking Schumacher,” Bono scolds.

“I didn’t say that, but,”

“But!” You interject.

“But,” Lewis laughs, threatens to continue even though all at the table know he won’t, knows that no matter how often the media and the girlfriends and the friends and the family tell him he should put himself up there with the greatest, he’ll never quite see himself in the same light. “But it’s about time I head up, I think.”

“Ah, see,” Valtteri chuckles. “Old man Hamilton can’t hang.”

“No, he can not,” Lewis remarks, pulling his phone and his hotel keycard from his pocket, setting the latter on the table and if you were feeling a little crazier than you are, you’d swear he nudges it ever so slightly out of his bubble and into yours. He types away rapidly at his phone, and you try to pay attention to the jokes Bono and Valtteri throw around, the pokes at Lewis they make, but suddenly you’re feeling like it’s a good time to head up, too. You try to shake the crazy, to leave it with your backwash in the final sip of your drink, and you do. You do.

You do, but then he’s slipping his phone back into his pocket. He’s leaving his glass just beyond his keycard and telling you to feel free to finish it. He’s saying his goodbyes while he moves out of the booth and his hotel room key is still sat on the table next to you. It stares at you—the hard, thin plastic. Stares at you in its white paper pocket with the intricate printing of the hotel label and dares you to look at him when he walks away.

You do, begrudgingly, subtly, and his eyes are already on yours. They’re expressionless, and yet, say so fucking much. You hold the remainder of his drink in his direction before downing it in a single gulp and then he winks at you. He looks at his keycard on the table, and then to you, and then he winks, and you’re sure you’re absolutely crazy.

You swallow.

“Oh, fuck,” Bono says, reaches over you to grab the keycard from the table. It’s like you were zoned out and he snapped in front of your face, the way it pulls you from Lewis to the table. “He forgot his key.”

“Oh,” you squeak, and then louder, “I can take it to him.”

“No, no, It’s okay,” Bono says, and he makes you stand up to get out of the booth. “I should be heading up anyway.”

“Really,” you half-insist, trying to convince him you can handle it without letting him in on why you’re convincing him. “It’s no problem.”

Bono pulls out his wallet, flips through the pockets of it and fiddles with his bills. “Our rooms are right by each other,” he insists, tosses his share onto the table. “I got it.”

“Okay,” you nod, accept your defeat. “Yeah, I should be heading up, too, I guess.”

932 notes · View notes

taleasnewastime · 2 years

Text

What if I love you too much?

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

Pairing: Jungkook x reader

Genre: fluff; angst; smut; single mum reader

Word count: 20.6k

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

Additional Drabbles!

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

“Ask him to mow your lawn.”

“What? Rosie, why would I –”

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

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

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

“But can you mow like him?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, thanks but no thanks.”

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

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

“He’s my neighbour –”

“Exactly.”

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

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

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

“Remind me who again?”

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

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

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

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

“Arrogant Aaron. That’s one.”

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

“James. One night, but it was good.”

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

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

“Was Ryan really after Zac?”

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

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

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

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

“Shall we play out front?”

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

“But, I wanna play with Baby Boe.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And he scores!” You cheer.

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

“What does that make it now, Zac?”

“One million!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why?”

“Because it’s not our house, is it?”

“But it’s my ball.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You enjoying the new house?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mummy.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It was nothing.”

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

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

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

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

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

Tell. Me. Everything.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I just mean I won’t be offended.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Want me to do the back too?”

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

He shrugs. “As I’m here.”

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

“I’m good. I’ll just get on with it.”

“Ok, well, thank you.”

“No problem, Y/N.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Already training for the Premier League?”

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

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

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

“Is there room for one more?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Zac obviously doesn’t feel the same.

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

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

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

“But I want to play.”

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

“He can’t play right now because –”

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

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

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

“I just want to play,” Zac mumbles.

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

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

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

“You really don’t have to do –”

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, let me help you with that.”

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

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

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

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

“You really don’t have to –”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Zac not here today?”

“His Nan is looking after him.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

“You just seem a little upset is all.”

“I’m fine.”

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

“Nothing,” you say finally looking at him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Really?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Zac’s not missing out on anything.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I wouldn’t say no to a tea.”

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

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

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

“Oh, who’s that?”

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

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

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

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

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

“He has a girlfriend?”

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

“Of course he has the hottest girlfriend.”

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

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

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

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

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

“It does?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Uh, worse, possibly.”

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

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

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

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

“What? No, don’t cancel.”

“What am I supposed to do instead?”

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

“She has book club tonight.”

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

“Away on business.”

“What about someone from work?”

“Rosie. Honestly, it’s fine.”

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

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

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

“He’s probably busy.”

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

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

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

“Ok,” you blurt to stop her.

“Ok? You want me to message him?”

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

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

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

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

Are you really doing this?

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

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

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

You’re too nervous to take much notice.

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

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

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

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

“Do I need to bring anything with me?”

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

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

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

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

“You look nice by the way.”

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

“Where’s your date?”

“Just at The Botanist.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Have you had a nice night?”

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

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

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

“It was good.”

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

“Just that it was just good.”

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

“You must know what I mean.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Here you go.”

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

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

“I’m not that drunk.”

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

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

“Wait. Don’t go.”

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

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

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

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

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

“It was no trouble.”

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

“Do you want me to pay you?”

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

“I mean for babysitting.”

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

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

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

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

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

“And the mowing our grass?”

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

“What if I want to pay you back?”

“I don’t want anything from you.”

“Nothing?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You need him. Now.

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

“What’s the rush?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

How is this happening?

You can’t believe this is happening.

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

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

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

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

It feels amazing. He feels amazing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He is fucking massive.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A ham sandwich, crisps and sausage roll.”

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

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

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

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

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

“You going to head off?” You counter.

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

“Do you want breakfast.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Jungkook?” You ask, pulling away.

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

“Zac could walk in any second.”

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s Jungkook doing here?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Neither.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We’ve got time.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mummy, why aren’t you trapping me?”

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

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

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

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

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

Your heart falls into the bottom of your stomach.

“I know what I saw Rosie.”

“Well talk me through it one more time.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You sigh, eyes flicking once again to Zac.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Surprisingly, for nearly a week, it works.

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

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

“Hey.”

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

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

“Are you shitting me right now?”

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

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

“What’s there to talk about?”

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

“And if I don’t want to talk?”

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

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

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

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

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

“You always answer the door in your pants?”

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

“And she didn’t stay the night?”

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

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

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

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

“Ok.”

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

“Yes. You’ve explained, so, ok.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jungkook: Did you get my flowers?

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

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

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

Jungkook: Let me take you out for dinner.

Y/N: I’m busy.

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

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

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

Y/N: I really am busy Jungkook.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You hate that you feel that way.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You alright?”

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

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

“Jungkook!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can we talk?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He’s not always happy and playful.”

“I think we just established that.”

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

“Where’s the downside here?”

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

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

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

“What is it?” Jungkook encourages.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ok?” He repeats, unbelieving.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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bby-deerling · 6 months

Text

sleight of hand (law x afab!reader nsfw)

this came to me in a daydream. law steals something of yours... have fun! afab!reader but no gender specified besides terms for genitals, nsfw, mdni, 18+, wc: 1.8k masterlist

cw: sex toys, humiliation, slight degradation, laws hands are sexy, misuse of authority, bit of overstimulation, edging

Your heart nearly dropped out of your chest when you heard that Law had done an impromptu room inspection this morning.

Of course, it had to be today of all days—feeling pent up, you had slept in a bit later than Ikkaku and taken care of yourself with a bit of help from your favorite toy. Afterwards, your gut dropped at the realization that you were going to be in a boat-load of trouble if your Captain noticed you weren’t up and working yet, and you hastily threw your satisfier under your top sheet, leaving your half of the room an absolute mess.

You know he’ll have noticed there’s an odd, ellipse-shaped lump in your bed, you just hope he handles the situation with tact. Hairs on the back of your neck standing, you jump and let out a squeak when he creeps up behind you while you’re working and calls your name.

“Yes, Captain?” you ask, face flushed with embarrassment, and a bit with arousal—Law was intense, brooding, and incredibly attractive, and there was no denying that the way the deep timbre of his voice rumbled saying your name affected you deeply.

So deeply that you had played with yourself this morning thinking about him.

“We need to talk about your room inspection.” he says plainly, spiking your anxiety levels as you prepare to be dressed down by him in front of Shachi and Penguin.

You open your mouth, intending to apologize preemptively for the mess, but he stops you.

“Save it. I don’t have time right now. Come see me later tonight.” he says, clicking his tongue and mumbling something under his breath as he turns and disappears down the corridor.

“You’re screwed!” Shachi hisses, causing Penguin to laugh hysterically. “You’re gonna be cleaning the bathrooms for at least a month!” You let out a deep sigh as you continue your work.

That would be the merciful option; you’d much rather scrub the men’s toilet with your own toothbrush than have to be humiliated by Law for owning a sex toy and not being careful enough to hide it better. Face still beet red, you pray he only chastises you for the mess and sends you on your way.

When you return to your room at the end of the day, you change into your pajamas and prepare to face Law, letting out a deep exhale to try to rid your body of nervous shakes. Before you leave, you go to properly hide your toy, only to throw all of the sheets off your bed, frantically search for it, and panic because it’s gone.

Law took it.

Cursing under your breath, hands shaking even more, you prepare for the most embarrassing night you’ve had yet on the Polar Tang, and perhaps in your entire life. Before you can start ruminating and spiraling too far, Ikkaku enters the room and cautiously asks you if you’re alright.

“Failed my room inspection.” you say, voice cracking. “Have to go see Captain soon.”

“Clearly,” she laughs, motioning to your sheets, scattered on the floor. “Have fun with that—wouldn’t want to be you right now!”

Letting out a shaky sigh, you wave to her as you leave the room and make your way to Law’s office. The dark, gloomy, suffocating hallways of the Polar Tang do nothing to dissuade the feeling that you’re walking straight into your own demise. As you round the last corner before your destination, you nearly run straight into Law’s chest.

He stares at you in surprise for a moment before his eyes darken with something you can’t quite place. “There you are. Thought I was going to have to come get you myself. Come with me.” he says, giving you no room to reply as he starts walking.

He notices your hesitation as you pass by his office door. “Need something from my room. We’ll walk and talk.” he says. You nod and swallow hard, trailing behind him as you both entered his room.

Despite his promise to quickly grab something before heading back to his office, he sits on the edge of his bed, legs spread far apart, and stares at you. You feel bare and exposed as his eyes size you up, and your mind tries desperately to squash all the desire blooming in your core.

“Found an oddity in your room this morning.” he says, a slight smirk pulling at his face. “Care to tell me about it?”

Your cheeks burn so hard you feel feverish as you try to collect yourself to no avail. “I-I meant to put it away properly—”

“You did? Could’ve fooled me.” he says, amused at your embarrassment. He stands and pulls open a drawer in his dresser; you stare at the ground when he pulls your toy out and returns to his spot on the bed, taunting you as he holds it up with his tattooed hands. “That’s a normal place to put that sort of thing, by the way.” he says, motioning to the dresser. Your mouth opens briefly, considering defending yourself, but you end up just letting out a heavy exhale instead.

“Even did you the favor of charging it.” he says, unable to restrain the cocky grin that spread across his face as you stare at him, biting the inside of your cheeks and trying to regain control of your breathing. You hold your hand out, feeling humiliated and turned on at the same time, but desperate to get him to quit mocking you.

He chuckles darkly. “Oh, you’re not getting this back.” he says, tossing it up in the air and catching it. “Clearly you can’t handle the responsibility, considering how late you were running this morning.”

“Law, it’s mine, you can’t just take it!” you protest, mortified at having to beg your Captain to give your toy back.

“I can and I will.” he says, crossing his arms. “You’re free to come and try to take it if you want, though.” He’s beyond entertained when you step towards him and reach for it, moving his hand up high enough to place it out of your grasp. Distracting you with the piece of stolen property, he catches you off-guard and grabs your waist, pulling you over his knee with one fluid motion.

“Now, I thought you were smarter than that.” he says, leaning into your ear as his hand runs up the back of your thigh and slips under the thin fabric of your pajama shorts to grope your ass. He clicks his tongue and shakes his head. “No underwear, I see. Maybe I’m the one getting played here after all. Here I am just giving what you want instead of punishing you.”

“Please, Law—”

“What, you want me to use the toy on you? Sure you don’t want this instead?” he asks, tracing his index finger along your wet slit, making you gasp.

“Both. I want both, please.” you rasp, glad your face was buried in his comforter so he couldn’t see the look on your face as you begged for it.

You let out a whimper as he slides the toy underneath you, lining the suctioning hole up with your clit and turns it on with his left hand. His right slips two inked fingers into your dripping pussy; you blush at the sloppy, wet sounds as his fingers sink into you, dragging along your sweet spot with each thrust.

“Someone’s needy. Dying to get fucked by your Captain, huh?” he says, groaning at the sight of you squirming in his lap. He smirks when you let out a whimper in response, knowing he’s already getting you close.

Fires of arousal licked at your entire body; you felt its lashes on your cheeks, burning red with desire, in your core where Law was overstimulating you, and on the side of your thigh where you could faintly feel his cock straining the fabric of his jeans. Desperate to quench the flames burning you alive, your hips twitch and roll into the sinful suction of the toy on your clit; you’re about to cry out when suddenly, he pulls the toy away and shuts it off.

“You didn’t think it was going to be that easy, did you?” he teases. “If I let you come at all, you’re gonna come with my cock inside you.” He squeezes your ass and pulls you onto the bed, keeping you face down as he yanks off your shorts.

Violently thumping, you hear your heartbeat in your ears as you hear him unzip his pants and your breath hitches as you feel the tip of his cock against your slit.

“So wet for me…” he muses, teasing you with his tip. “Such a little slut for your Captain.”

“Mhmm, Please, fuck me Law—" you plead, cut off as he bottoms out inside of you. He hisses at the feeling of being completely sheathed inside of you, inked fingers gripping your hips so tightly that you don’t doubt they’ll be bruised tomorrow.

His breath is hot on your ear as he grabs a fistful of your hair and fucks you hard into the mattress. “So hot. Taking it so good for me—” he growls, gasping at the way his words made you clench around him.

The way his long cock hits your sweet spot leaves you whimpering and moaning into the pillow, begging him to keep going so you can reach your release. Taking you by surprise, he slips one of his hands underneath you and turns your toy back on, making your hips snap against the sensation. He keeps his unrelenting pace as you squirm pinned underneath him, desperate to come.

“Close?” he rasps in your ear, holding back a moan as he grips your hair tighter. The vibration of his deep voice traveling down the shell of your ear is enough to send you over the edge. As you come, he mumbles something in your ear about how much of a slut you are for unraveling this easily for him, but all you can focus on are the waves of pleasure rocking through your body until he pulls the toy away.

Law doesn’t give you a break, removing his hand from your hair and placing it on your back as he props himself up and pushes you deeper into the mattress. His other hand massages your ass, and he admires the way his tattooed hands look splayed across your unmarked body. He wishes he had a mirror—or a camera—to show you how unbelievably hot you looked as he fucked you like this, but that would have to wait for another time; right now, he was close.

He curses as he pulls out of you and cums on your lower back, making you gasp at the sensation of his hot seed splattering over your skin. After he catches his breath, he ruffles your hair before grabbing a few tissues from his nightstand to clean up his mess with.

“Whenever you want to use that toy from now on, you come to me, got it?” he mumbles as he flops on the bed next to you, pulling you into his chest.

“Aye aye, Captain.” you reply with a mocking salute, grinning when he rolls his eyes and sighs in response.

#one piece x reader #x reader #trafalgar law x reader #law x reader #trafalgar law x you #trafalgar law x y/n #law x y/n #mdni #one piece smut

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pursuitseternal · 6 months

Note

Ok, ok, this is totally self indulgent.. but, could you maybe do a petite/curvy f! Reader and Astarion appreciating her in the most NSFW way? Ty!

Oh sweet Anon… Here you go, darling:

“I can be quick…”

CW: quick, rough sex, body worship, breast play, tittyfucking, more NSFW, just a hint of praise and dirty talk with your Vampire Rogue

Rogue Astarion x curvy female reader | Explicit | 1.3K of worship sex

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“Tch,” Astarion sucks his teeth at you, that sweet little smirk as you trudge up the path. It’s been a long day of walking, and the height of the mountain is wearing on you. “Want me to carry you?” he offers, a teasing lilt in his silken voice.

“Don’t make offers you don’t intend to keep,” you huff, wiping the sweat off your brow. “Being cradled in your powerful arms sounds much nicer that hiking any longer you know…”

Before you even finish your words, he’s grabbed you by your middle and heaved you over his shoulder. “Come now, darling,” he giggles at you over his shoulder, “you know I’m good for any excuse to hold your warm, supple flesh against me…” He climbs as you sway, his hands slowly, distinctively, sliding up the soft buckskin of your breeches, exploring higher up your thighs.

Sometimes, you forget just how strong he is, your well-fed vampire rogue. How he can crush your enemies with a single arm, or evicerate them without blinking. Carrying you doesn’t even bring a sweat to his brow. No, he’s striding even faster… swaying and whistling as he’s gaining on the rest of your party, who are nearly half a mile ahead.

But then, he curves off the path. A small grassy grove. The true destination for his haste. “You know, I am rather self indulgent, and I just don’t think I’ll make up the mountain without a little… respite. And besides, the way your breasts keep swinging over my shoulder, well…”

He sets you down on the mossy ground, slowly, he crawls on top of you, so much taller, leaner, wiry and demanding as he presses his weight into your frame. You feel it then, as he presses his hips hard between your thighs. “You’ve made me so hard for you, darling, and I think one favor deserves another, don’t you?”

“That’s your idea of respite, is it?” you giggle, his hands tracing up and down the curves of your body, clawing into the top of your breeches already shimmying them down your hips.

“Seems only fair. Besides, we’re so far behind already, I’m sure they won’t even notice. And… I can be quick,” he growls above you, “after holding you so close already, I doubt I could last long even if I wanted to…” he runs his tongue up the side of your neck, lips caressing your ear as he rasps, “which I don’t at any rate.”

He exhales heavily, his hand tugging the last of your buckskin breeches to your ankles. “Gods, you smell beyond enticing, darling, but first, I’ll need you completely bared for me to properly worship every inch of your feminine figure.”

Your fingers already tug at the laces of your tunic, hoping he isn’t in so much a hurry that he tears it to shreds. But by the lustful glow in his crimson eyes, the way he’s licking his lips and nearly snarling his fangs at you, you’re not sure how much longer he will wait.

He leans off you, pulling his own shirt off, unlacing his own breeches just enough to let that protruding length spring free. Gods, you’re glad you’ve made quick work of your own clothing, craving that wiry muscle and hard body of his crushing you. The instant your breasts are freed, he bears down on you, lips and tongue feasting on their fullness. Teasing your nipple until it aches from being drawn to straining hardness. His hand massages the other, his cold, strong fingers tweaking that nipple to equally exhilarating pain.

You gasp, arching under his body, kicking off the rest of your boots, your breeches, aching to wrap your thighs around him completely. He just laughs, low and deep in his chuckle, letting the reverberations tickle your breast as he switches to suck on the other. “So eager, so impatient, I suppose I am too, eager to give every one of your sweet curves a good fuck,” he growls into the pillow flesh beneath his mouth.

“Then do it,” you moan, mewling as he takes your hands from the grass to have you press the fullness of your breasts together. You laugh, aching and uneasy, as he shifts above you. Hand on his cock, he pushes it into your ample bosom, that seeping head brushing against your lips. Gods, he’s so big, so naughty, and you lick him as he thrusts again, his groan as you sweep your tongue over that bitter cum makes you giggle.

“You filthy, brilliant darling,” he growls, thrusting all the way until his balls smack into your breasts. Making that length push far into your mouth. You suck, hard, making your lips pop as he withdraws only to thrust harder and faster. He groans with each shove into you, as if he’s been envisioning this for hours. You catch him in your mouth each time, little sucks and swirls of your tongue stoking him into a frenzy. You can feel it by how his cock twitches, how it thickens as he grows closer to coming, at how he just can’t slow himself. So you suck him hard and long each time.

“Gods, I’ll come if you keep that up…” he groans. And, with a mischievous laugh, you let your teeth drag softly all along him as he shoves through your bosom.

He snarls, clambering off you, pulling you by your hands to roll with him into the grass until he’s laid flat on his back. He clutches you to his chest, letting you sprawl and straddle on top of him, hands and fingers and nails clawing into the crests of your hips. “Fuck me, little darling,” he groans, taking his cock in one hand, the other runs two long fingers into the heated slick that pools between your thighs.

You sink onto that long, cool shaft, letting your whole body accept him until he fills you to bursting. You can feel him, already so close, hands running up and down, worshiping the curve of your hips, the crest of your belly, before he slinks a single finger into your folds. Catching your clit just right. His eyes watch where you join, licking his lips at the sight of how he spears into you. And he returns the ardor with the circling sweeps of his finger. You tremble, you shake.

Gods, all this because he carried you, because he couldn’t get close enough to you until he was buried so deep, there was no more room for him. You splay your hands on his chest, riding him, wriggling as he keeps that finger crooked just right to pleasure you. He’s insistent, chasing his climax with every clench of his body, every scrape of his fingers on your skin. Your hips buck unsteady, riding how he thrusts up into your tight channel with each sink and slap of your thighs on his.

His hand grips hard into you, forcing you to ride faster, his voice a snarling groan as he pushes hard into you. You slam hard on his cock, crying as you come too, the pulsing of his head against the end of your channel making you shake. Making you collapse against his chest. Making you pant against the cool, hard caress of his skin on your hot and flushing cheek.

Both of you pant, catching your breath, as he places a kiss against the top of your head. He chuckles, “Are you still going to need me to carry you, darling?”

You lift your head, throwing him a sated, but lustful smirk, “Most definitely, my rogue. Most definitely.”

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💌always happy to have the requests ❤️

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lanawinterscigarettes · 5 months

Note

Hi there ! Can I request Natasha Romanoff x reader smut? I thought maybe Natasha x virgin!reader first time OR it can just be Nat’s and reader’s first time. (Please make it super soft🥺🥺)

Okay but anon that idea is literally so cute wtf 😖💗 this is shorter than I intended it to be but I hope you enjoy it regardless

Sidenote: mалыш means baby in Russian (to the best of my knowledge)

Taking It Slow (Natasha Romanoff x reader)

Warnings: SMUT, afab reader, reader is a virgin, oral sex (reader receiving), mention of a safeword (although it's never used), soft top Natasha, bottom reader

"Are you sure you're ready for this?"

Natasha's brow was furrowed with concern as she leaned over you on the bed, gently brushing your hair from your face.

"Yeah, I'm sure." You looked up into her loving eyes, knowing she would take care of you. "Just...take it slow, okay?"

"Of course, mалыш." She pressed a soft and loving kiss to your lips before working her way down the rest of your body. Your jawline, neck, collarbone, none of it went untouched. She kept going until she got down to your thighs, where she settled herself between them.

"If at anytime you want me to stop, just let me know, okay? Do you remember our safeword?"

You nodded your head yes, to which Natasha clicked her tongue at you. "Honey, I need verbal confirmation if you want this to happen."

"Yeah, I remember it," you said, anticipation building.

"Good. Use it whenever you want to stop, okay? I don't want your first experience to be an uncomfortable one."

"Okay, I will."

Satisfied with your response, she began leaving kisses on the inside of your thigh. Occasionally you felt her nip at your skin, a sign that she was gently marking you up, leaving hickeys wherever her mouth would go.

You sighed contentedly before letting out a series of soft moans as she moved her mouth from your thighs to your glistening pussy. She pressed gentle kisses on the sensitive area, and you could feel her smirk against your skin when you let out a sudden gasp at her lips moving up to your clit.

She was toying with you, and you knew it; but you loved it regardless.

You felt as she pressed feather light kisses to your clit, giving you just enough friction to feel it but not nearly enough to be able to properly get you off.

As much as you wanted to grind up against her face, you knew you had to remain patient if you wanted to be able to truly enjoy this. You had waited this long, surely you could wait a little bit longer. Still, Natasha no longer teasing you and just getting on with it would certainly be nice.

"Nat, please." You whined, your hand going to rest on her head lightly.

"Oh, sweetheart." She peered up at you from between your legs, a visible smirk on her face. "I suppose I have been teasing you a little too much, huh? Let me fix that."

Before you could ask her what she meant by that, you felt her move her tongue along your already wet folds, eliciting a moan from you so loud your neighbors could definitely hear it.

At least she wasn't teasing you anymore, but that still meant you had a long night ahead of you.

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#marvel #marvel imagines #marvel imagine #marvel x reader #marvel fic #mcu #mcu imagines #mcu imagine #mcu x reader #mcu fic #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff imagines #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff fic #marvel smut #mcu smut #natasha romanoff smut #afab reader

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redamancyys · 1 year

Text

All Around Me - Kaz Brekker

WARNING(S) ◆ smut, piv sex, oral (fem recieving), cursing, unedited.

WORDS ◆ 3.7k

REQUEST(S) ◆ based off of this request, though i did stray a little. basically kaz and the reader have sex for the first time!

AUTHOR'S NOTE ◆ sooooo this ended up being a lot steamy-er than i intended, but i hope that you enjoy it, because i definitely liked writing this one!

To say that the desire was eating you both up from the inside was an understatement.

Kaz had never wanted a person the way that he wanted you. It was a raw, carnal desire that came from deep within him. He had never been a person who ached for touch until he met you, he wished that he was able to be the man that could grab you by your hips without spiraling into a panic, or could kiss you for as long as you wanted without having to take a break because his internal thoughts were becoming too much to handle.

You would always explain to him that it wasn’t his fault.

Hushed whispers, your hands placed ever so carefully on his clothed body, trying to keep him grounded whenever the aversion got too bad. You had seen him at his worst, where he had to put his head in between his knees in order to stop the flashbacks from coming back to him. Though sometimes no matter how hard you tried, Kaz would morph back into that little boy again, feeling his brother's dead motionless flesh against his own as he floated back ashore. He would feel alone, no matter how much you tried to explain that you were here, he didn’t have to worry, he wasn’t there, he was safe.

And what was even worse, he felt like he was somehow disappointing you. He was with you, but you couldn’t even touch his bare skin without him spiraling into a mess. No matter how many times you explained that you were there for him, that you were always going to make sure that he was okay, there was still a piece of him that wished he was different. But Kaz’s wishes never came true, it would never magically go away. He had to face this head on if he was ever going to be able to properly love you, and for you, he was willing to try anything.

That had been a few months ago, and since then the two of you had worked very hard to overcome his aversion. You went slow, placing bare hands against each other, small kisses, anything that you could think of that would be enough to help but also just enough to not make Kaz feel uncomfortable. It had gotten to the point where you two were able to cuddle with one another, his hands could go up and down your spine and paint small drawings on the skin of your arm and legs. And you could do the same towards him. After a while, you both were able to take your tops off, explore those parts of your bodies, and every time you went farther, the desire began to creep its way into both of your chests. Both of you were aware what the next step was, you both weren’t dumb, but neither of you had the inclination to talk about it. It was like the two of you were dancing around the conversation, doing everything that you could to not bring it up.

Wylan and Jesper were always talking about it. Well, that was a lie, Jesper was usually the one that would talk about it with you. He always talked about the pining, the excitement of getting to explore your lover's body . . . it was something that you wanted but had never experienced before and before you knew it, you were sitting on your shared bed with Kaz, trying to concentrate on a book while he did his paperwork at his desk. You took a moment to stare at him, watching as his hands pressed against the paper, quill etching sounds into the silence between the both of you. You took your bottom lip into your teeth, sucking in a harsh breath. You could do this.

“Kaz, I wanted to talk to you about something.”

You could’ve gone about it a different way, because the moment Kaz stopped what he was doing and turned to face you, there was a hint of worry in his expression. Most of the time when a person told another that they had to talk to them about something, it was bad news, and you were quick to assure him that it was nothing of the sort. “Nothing bad, I promise. I just wanted to bring an idea up to you.” His face immediately softened, one that you knew he didn’t share with many. You took a moment to study his expressive eyes, your own going from them to his lips, the ones that you wished were kissing the delicate skin on your body. Giving him a tiny smile, you said, “I wanted to see what you . . . thought about having sex with me? We’ve been getting to that point for a while now and I just thought that it wouldn’t hurt to ask if you wanted to go all the way?”

This was definitely something that he wasn’t expecting to come out of his mouth, especially because of the unspoken barrier between the both of you when it came to talking about these types of things. Of course he wanted to, saints, if he could he would take you right then and there but you and him knew that it would take a lot more mental preparation on his end for this to happen. And perhaps for a moment you thought that you had struck a nerve with him, that he would dismiss the idea and you would leave to compose yourself, but that was far from the truth. Instead he set down the quill and turned to face you completely, his gloved hands playing with one another as an attempt to ground. You didn’t move, eyes attentively staring, waiting for him to say something. Kaz eventually opened his mouth to say, “Of course I want to have sex with you.” He said it as though you were dumb thinking that he wasn’t, but you knew that this was his way of trying to guard himself from the actual thoughts that came into his head. “I think I just need a little time to prepare first-” “Yes! I know, I just wanted to make sure you were comfortable first,” You cut him off, not wanting him to think that you were going to pressure him.

Soon enough you two were discussing the logistics, almost as if you were scheduling a business meeting of a sort. It made you chuckle at first, but as the days went by, closer to the date that the two of you planned to finally go the final step, your nerves began to jumble up.

You sat down at the edge of his bed, very reminiscent of a few days ago when you popped the question, but instead of Kaz sitting at his desk, he was sitting beside you. His breathing was slightly rigid, he was nervous which you completely understood. In order to comfort him, you placed your hand on his gloved one, looking at him with a look of kindness in an attempt to show him that you were nervous too.

“I love you,” You said to him.

“I love you too, Y/N.”

One finger at a time, you began to pull his gloves off of his hand, and then the other one, setting the pair onto the bedside table. You held one of his hands with yours while the other one made its way to the back of his neck, pressing soft kisses to his lips. Kaz responded by putting his hand on your waist, eagerly kissing you back. He pulled you closer to him, until you got the idea of straddling his waist, legs on either side of him as you sat on his lap. This kissing went on for a while, semi for comfort but also for pleasure, as you knew that you would never get tired of kissing Kaz Brekker. His lips tasted like honeyed tea and you relished in the notion that you would be the only one who ever got to taste such a sweet thing.

You were still sitting on his thighs and you needed him more than ever now. That familiar feeling that bubbled up inside of you whenever you two got this far began to resurface, causing the kissing to become even more fast paced, filled with want and need. Though the most enjoyable part was that the two of you were having fun, taking moments to stop and admire one another. For a moment a sly smile came across his lips and you wiped it away with a kiss, going back to the fast pace that had been set before. Your hands came and tentatively went under his shirt, feeling the taut skin of his chest with calm and courteous fingers, not wanting to upset him, though clearly beginning to fog up the idea of being gentle. The thought of him above you with a body like that? It made you falter in your movements. He was beautiful, and you were sure that you would never allow him to forget it.

Using the break in your concentration to his advantage, Kaz began mouthing along your skin, knowing that your neck was sensitive in a multitude of places and skimming your skin with his teeth ever so gently, hands pulling up your shirt above your head. His eyes scanned your body, raising an eyebrow. “No bra?” He asked, making you shy away and look anywhere but at his face. You didn’t reply, but he seemed to not like that. His hand came and grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him. You gave a small smile, “I wanted to be comfy.” He hummed, somewhat disappointed in your answer but not disappointed at how compliant you seemed to be with him. Kaz went back to kissing your neck, teeth grazing along your soft skin, making you jump whenever he bit down on a particular spot.

You were beginning to grow impatient. Perhaps it was with the way that he was worshiping you, wanting to kiss every single inch of you and make you keel into his touch over and over again. Or maybe it was because no one had ever made you feel this way before. You hadn’t been with others before, never trying to get this far with the men of Ketterdam for fear of ruin or awkwardness in the morning. You had only longed for Kaz before.

His hands found your breasts, squeezing them and kneading them together, fingers coming to pinch your nipples. Your back arched into him and you almost fell over on top of him, using your hands on his muscles to stop you. You reached and decided you wanted to please him, to show him how much you wanted him. You trailed your hands under his shirt and came to the band of his pants, pushing your fingers past it and making your way down. Before you could hit his obvious hard on, one of his own hands came and grasped your wrists, pulling your hand away. You looked up, thinking that you did something wrong. Tilting your head, you gave him a silent what? Maybe you had made him uncomfortable, and he was trying to come up with a way to tell you off.

Though that didn’t seem to be the case when Kaz’s lips offered a smirk.

“I’m not done with you yet,” Kaz explained. In one movement he put his hands to your back and flipped you two over, him now on top of you. Your head hit the mattress with a small humph and wondered what he had in store for you.

You worked with him to shimmy your pants and panties off, throwing them to some side of the room. His hands splayed against your thighs and you watched with an open mouth to see what he was going to do. He gave you a look, a familiar one that reminded you that you were actually here with him, no one else, the two of you were doing this amazing thing together. Your heart swelled with adoration as you thought that this was the man that you loved, the one that you trusted more than anyone else in the entire world. You were also well aware of the slick that was beginning to coat your thighs, body betraying you and showing him how much you wanted him, how you ached for him. Kaz seemed to like it though, bringing his flesh hand to your slit and scooping some of it up. When he brought his hand back up, you could see the way that it glistened on his skin, popping a finger into his mouth and humming sinfully at the taste. He did it again and again, humming every single time your arousal hit his tongue. You looked down with heated cheeks, feeling a little embarrassed that you were getting so worked up over something so small. “You taste . . .” He trailed off, bringing his tongue to your folds and swiping up from your hole to your clit. “Amazing.”

“It’s all for you,” You said, wiggling your hips and urging him to pleasure you again. Kaz smirked, feeling a sense of pride wash over him at your words. He brought a finger to you and pushed it in, watching your mouth open into a wide ‘O’ at the feeling. He curled it up, making your muscles tighten around him. Kaz built a steady pace and he came back up to your face, pressing a kiss to your cheek sweetly as if he couldn’t hear the lewd sounds that were being created when he added a second finger in.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do this,” He said, towering over you. His thumb rubbed against your clit while his fingers fucked into you. “To see you under me like this.” The both of you seemed to have this desire for each other for the longest time.

You moaned out at his words, thighs clenching around his hand to keep him there. You couldn’t respond, too busy thinking about the steady fire that was building in you. You reached to climb higher, hoping he would grant you some kind of release. He didn’t give it to you though. Instead, whenever you were getting to that tipping point, he would stop all of his movements altogether until you stopped shaking, then repeat the process over and over again. It was making you go crazy, how he had the power to push you towards release but he just wouldn’t do it.

You opened your mouth to speak but you couldn’t. As if to test you further, he pushed a third finger into you, making you moan out his name loud and roll your eyes to the back of your skull. His thumb kept rubbing languid circles on your clit. You thought if you stayed quiet you could sneak an orgasm, cut him off guard. But as if he heard your thoughts, his movements stalled and he put his other hand firmly on your hips so you couldn’t even move against his statue-like hand. His dark eyes bore into your own and you squeezed around his fingers. “You make me feel so good, Kaz.” The praise fell from your lips with ease, lava pooling in your stomach as if threatening to burst at any moment. If only he would just rub a little bit more . . .

He pulled his hand away from you. Kaz didn’t even respond to your statement and you wondered if you said something wrong, if he had enough. And he had enough all right, but not enough of you. He wanted to see you cum, just around his cock and not his fingers. But you couldn’t hear what he was thinking, which made you whimper when he pulled himself away fully, standing at the edge of the bed. You opened your legs up to him, the farthest that you could go without hurting yourself and hoping that it would make him come back to you quickly. Your clit was aching from several denied orgasms, almost thinking about pulling your hand down to finish yourself off, though deciding against it when knowing Kaz would never allow something like that. He liked seeing you writhing like this.

Kaz’s hands shed all his clothing. He wasn’t exactly putting on a show for you but you marveled anyways, watching the way that his muscles flexed when his shirt came off and how you wanted to lick all around his abdominal region and make your way all down to his cock, which was pressed against his stomach and slightly glistening with precum. It was big and felt your insides clench just thinking about it sliding into you. Once he was satisfied with his clothing off, he came back down to the bed and kneeled between your spread legs.

“Kaz,” You whispered. “Please.”

There was a hint of mischief in his eyes and it took all of your strength to not roll your eyes. “What do you want me to do to you?” Of course he wanted to hear you say it, to announce what he was inevitably going to do. You couldn’t ignore the way you loved how controlling he was with you, how he ordered you to do some things. And as much as you hated that he didn’t let you cum, you also loved how he would make you cum when he wanted you to, not you. He took his cock into his hands and rubbed the tip against your glistening folds, teasing you in the most sinful way possible.

“Please . . . Fuck me Kaz. Make me cum, I can’t take it anymore.” You just wanted him inside of you so badly, you were going to scream if this went on for any longer. He was right there, denying you both the pleasure. With a nod of his head, he pushed into you in one fluid motion. The feeling of him bottoming out inside of you made you grip onto his bicep, pulling him close so his warm chest was against your own again. He wasted no time moving, the sound of it deliciously sweet in your ears. Kaz took your legs and pushed them upwards, your feet hanging off of his shoulders and pressing your thighs further up until they were almost hitting the mattress. The change in position had you crying out, feeling him hit deeper inside of you.

You could feel every single scrape of his cock against your walls, increasing that fire in your stomach until you were sure you were about to cum. He kept at it with such loyalty and vigor, his motivation to make you feel the best you ever had fuelling him to a tenfold. He was such a devoted man to begin with, so you should’ve known that he would handle things the same way in bed.

You squeezed around him. “Please,” You whimpered.

“Go ahead.” Those two words were all you needed, allowing yourself to scream out as your orgasm ripped through you, built up again and again and now it was finally here and it was amazing. It rippled through you like shockwaves, and made you go limp under him, legs completely boneless. Kaz didn’t let up as he rode through your orgasm, keeping the same pace with you. He was unforgiving, not giving you time to adjust and instantly making you feel the feeling of overstimulation. You were so sensitive to his cock ramming in and out of you that you could feel a second orgasm already building up. The tip of him hit a particularly nice spot in you and you yelled, curling your toes and your hands came to tangle and grip in his hair. You almost stopped for a moment thinking that you were hurting him, but when you looked at his face, you saw only fucked out bliss, white incisors showing in a ravenous grin. His eyes opened and they were almost fully dark, making you shiver.

“You feel so good,” He mumbled, as though he was talking to himself. He was completely thrown into the pleasure that you were giving him, hot and warm and just perfect , like you were made for his cock to be rammed into over and over again. “Made for me, all for me.” He used your past words, them never losing their meaning no matter how many times he muttered under his breath.

Time seemed to slow and grow faster at the same time, the whole room disappearing as both of you focused on only each other. You weren’t sure how many times he had made you cum at this point, you took whatever he gave you and took it well. When you got enough strength to crane your neck down, you watched as your hole enveloped his cock, it coming back out slicked with the remnants of your past orgasms. Kaz saw where your eyesight was and a sense of pride washed over him again. “Do you like watching that? Seeing how well you take me?” He asked, egging you on. His hand went to grab your own and placed it on your lower abdomen, and you could feel the skin slightly raising up every time he went into you. You could see it too, sliding in and out. Though, even if he didn’t want to admit it to himself, his movements were beginning to falter. He was becoming more sloppy with his hips and you knew he was about to cum. So, to give him what he had worked for, you wiggled your hips up, matching his hips. Your oversensitive clit rubbed against the base of his cock and you were clenching around him, and as if on cue, you were cumming again, feeling weak under him. Kaz wrapped his arms around you and pulled you up, his cock splitting you open until he was spilling inside of you.

The moans that left his mouth were probably the hottest things you had ever felt in your life. You could feel his cum dripping down his cock, coating your thighs and dripping onto the soiled sheets. He put you down on the bed and followed you, eyes watching your own and kissing your sweaty forehead. He finally stopped moving and stilled inside, not wanting to leave you. He didn’t want to leave this moment and neither did you.

#kaz brekker smut #kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker fanfiction #kaz brekker #six of crows fanfiction #six of crows fanfic #six of crows #netflix shadow and bone #shadow and bone fanfiction #shadow and bone #kaz brekker angst #grishaverse fanfiction #grishaverse

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babyleostuff · 7 months

Note

Hi! I was wondering if you could do a Seungkwan version of Cheol and Hannie's calling you clingy in front of the boys?

say you love me | boo seungkwan

genre | angst & fluff

word count | 1.6k

pairing | seungkwan x reader

author's note | this was actually so hard to write, cuz boo is the fluffiest fluff to ever fluff

“It’s your turn Seungkwan.”

After weeks of busy schedules, restless nights and days spent locked up in a studio, your boyfriend and his bandmates got a few days off, getting the time to properly rest before going back to even crazier schedules due to their upcoming comeback.

You almost squealed when Seungkwan told you that he was going to have a short break, because you couldn’t remember the last time you got to wake up next to him, or even find the time to give him a goodbye kiss before going to work.

Despite your obvious excitement, your boyfriend on the other hand, didn’t seem as happy as you were.

At first you brushed it off - of course he must've been very stressed and overwhelmed, so his mind must’ve surely been cluttered about thoughts of work, but you figured that this break was going to be the perfect time to spend some quality time, maybe you could even manage to go on a trip somewhere.

But as you were sitting in his and Jeonghan’s apartment, the boys’ loud laughs echoing through the living room as they played a board game, Seungkwan still looked like something was bothering him.

“Seungwkan,” Seungcheol repeated, trying to get the younger man's attention. “Sorry. Got a little distracted,” he could bullshit everyone around him, but all of the boys and you knew that he wasn’t just “a little distracted”.

For the past three hours he had been unusually silent, which was the first red flag, because Seungkwan was never silent.

With a look full of worry, you scooted closer to him, until your thighs were touching. “You sure everything is alright, baby?” You asked quietly, wrapping your hand around his bicep, gently stroking it with your thumb.

You leaned in to place a kiss on his shoulder, when he shifted away from you, reaching for a water bottle.

Your brows furrowed in confusion, because Seungkwan never dismissed your affection, especially physical, and he was definitely doing it now.

“Boo, please tell me what’s wrong,” you said in a hushed tone, noticing how his hands were shaking as he was holding the bottle. You covered one of them with your own in hopes that it would bring him some kind of comfort, because you couldn’t stand seeing him so obviously anxious.

“Could you stop nagging me, and find something else to do?” His voice was much louder than yours, drawing the attention of the rest of the boys to you. “It’s really overwhelming how you’re just clinging to me.” Seungkwan said, without even looking at you.

The place went silent, as Seungcheol and Jeonghan exchanged worried expressions, not knowing whether they should say something or not. It wasn’t often that Seungkwan would snap like this, especially at you.

“No need to be so rude Seungkwan,” his full name felt like poison on your tongue. “You could’ve just let me know if I was making you feel uncomfortable,” you said, letting go of his arm.

Without sparing a second glance, you walked out of the apartment, pulling Seungkwan’s sweater tighter around yourself as you were met with the cold breeze. You didn’t realise when it had started raining, the droplets of water hitting your face one after another, sending a shiver down your spine.

You’d think this would be the worst situation to be stuck in - walking in the rain without an umbrella and no phone to use, because you stormed out of the place without bringing it with you. There was no way for you to call any of your friends, and you did not intend to go back to Seungkwan after he treated you like that.

But the way he snapped at you was so much worse for you. It didn’t help that he had never been so mean to you before, you knew that his teasing and “bullying” were just jokes.

This certainly wasn’t one.

“Fuck,” you muttered, as a passing car totally drenched you in water from the puddle on the street. You tried to pull the material of his sweater even closer to your body, but there was no use in that. You were a shaking mess, and if you didn’t change into something dry, you’d surely end up sick.

Cursing under your breath, you sat at a wet bench - it’s not like you could get any wetter. You closed your eyes for a second, before looking up at the sky, that was just as grey and sad as you were.

“Baby, what are you doing? You’re going to be sick,” all of a sudden a familiar voice pulled you out of your miserable thoughts. Turning your head towards the source of it, you noticed Seungkwan, who was just as drenched as you, his hair sticking to his forehead and the shirt he was wearing totally soaked by the rain.

It broke you, seeing his slumped shoulders and tired eyes, probably because of the numerous sleepless nights and days full of hard work, and you had to force yourself not to rush towards him and tell him that everything would be alright.

Instead you dropped your head, looking away toward the busy street, forcing yourself not to let the tears fall, even though they would most likely be covered by the rain hitting your face.

“I’m really sorry,” he said, cautiously stepping towards you, almost as if he was scared that you’d run away if he came any closer. “I know that there is no excuse for my behaviour,” his voice was shaky, just as his hands were before, and you knew that if you’d look at him, you’d burst into tears.

So you turned your head even more away from him, squeezing your eyes shut.

“I should have never snapped at you like that, and I’m really sorry,” you knew that what he was saying was true, you could hear it, but it didn’t mean it made you feel any better. “You really hurt me Seungkwan,” your voice was merely a whisper, drowning in the loud noises of the cars and the rain.

“I know. And I hate myself so much for treating you like that,” you could hear he was getting closer, and at that point the only thing you wanted to fall into his arms and forget that any of this had ever happened.

“I know that no matter what I say it won’t change what I did, and I don’t need you to forgive me,” you couldn’t stop the tears from falling onto your cheeks. You were so torn between forgiving him immediately, and screaming at him.

“But I just want you to know how fucking sorry I am, you didn’t deserve any of that. You always stick by my side no matter how hard it gets, and I took that for granted and pushed you away. I should have just talked to you, maybe try to explain how I’m feeling, but instead I treated you in the worst way possible,” even though you weren’t looking at him, you knew he was crying as well. “I pushed away the most important person in my life.”

Yes, maybe you were weak, maybe you were wrong for feeling bad for him, but love makes you do stupid things. You knew you should’ve been harder on him for snapping at you like that, for calling you clingy for god’s sake, but you couldn’t sit like that anymore.

“Please just tell me the next time you feel overwhelmed like that, and need some time alone,” you spoke up, glancing at him for the first time since he came. “I understand how burdened you are, and that you worry about a lot of stuff, but I don’t think I’ll be able t-.”

“No, please I promise I’ll never do something like that ever again,” he pleaded, kneeling in front of you, and taking your hands in his. “You can’t know that Seungkwan. But I want you to talk to me,” you squeezed his cold hands. “Just tell me when you need some time for yourself, I promise I understand that sometimes you just need to be alone.”

“I know, baby, and I was so stupid for not doing that immediately,” he lowered his head, placing it on your knees, as his body shook with his sobs. You snaked your hand around the back of his head, gently pulling at the strands of his wet hair. “You’re not stupid Boo, and don’t hate yourself for doing that. I may not forgive you right now, but don’t think about yourself like that, ever.”

He slowly lifted his head, his blood shot eyes looking straight into yours. You smiled at him, and cupped his cheek, stroking it with your thumb.

“Please, tell me that you still love me.”

Your heart broke, the way he sounded so concerned, made you want to wrap him in all of the blankets you had at home, and kiss him all night long. It hurt you so much that he’d think you didn’t love him anymore.

“Of course I still love you, baby. I guess thighs like that happen in relationships, and I would never stop loving you because of that. I’m happy that you see what you did wrong, and I know that you’ll know better now.”

“I never meant what I said. You could never be clingy.” he said, nuzzling his head further into your hand. “I know. Now let’s go, or we’ll get sick,” you said, standing up, and pulling him with you.

“Mingyu lost by the way,” Seungkwan smirked, pulling you closer to his body.

“I knew it.”

taglist (if you want to be added, check my masterlist): @weird-bookworm @sea-moon-star @hanniehaee @wonwooz1 @byprettymar @edgaralienpoe @staranghae @eightlightstar @itza-meee @immabecreepin @hyneyedfiz @honestlydopetree @dkswife

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chatsukimi · 7 days

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POV. STREATRACER!TOJI asks to borrow your last name.

.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･

“What do you mean you don’t want your last name printed on your uniform?”

Toji, your trust fund racer and favourite bet, shrugs. “Already said, I won’t race with the name Zen’in.”

You sit down at your desk. It’s after school, and you and the spoiled soon-to-be college reject are sitting in the classroom.

You throw your hands up. “But why? What’s bad about Zen’in?”

“Everything,” he deadpans.

Staring at the guy for a flat five seconds, you realise he won’t change his mind, or explain himself, which you should have expected from a guy going broke despite his millionaire family.

Toji props himself up on the desk beside yours, leaning on his knees as though thinking. A few seconds pass.

He offers, “why don’t I use yours?”

“My what?”

“Your last name,” he suggests, breezing through the prospect at horrifying speed. “It works. You’re sponsoring me anyways.”

You blink twice. Delayed reaction.

“What?!” you squeak out.

Toji smirks, leaning on his palm watching you. “What?” he repeats, playing innocent. He sports a smug look in his green eyes and even bothers to scan your notebook splayed out on your desk, reading your last name out loud to himself. “Nice.”

No. Not nice. They’ll assume you're- you're- your cheeks heat up.

He looks at you, bearing a smile that's all teeth. 'We could be cousins.'

The guy even dares to pat you on the shoulder at that. You shake him off. No one at the race would believe you two are related.

"No."

'No?' he echoes, cocking his head, tempting you to speak. 'What could we be then?'

"We can be... can be..." you think to yourself, before noticing his hands landing on your shoulder, massaging them like a habit. He's sauntered over from his chair.

Comforting, but still...

Bad habit.

Your heart stutters.

Baaad habit.

"Hm?" He chuckles when he sees you realise. "What would we be?"

You swallow, the small proximity between the two of you taking your mind on a field trip; him standing behind your seat and you, fidgeting your hands under the desk like crazy.

"Nothing."

He raises an eyebrow.

"I don't think taking your last name means nothing," he presses, serious.

How is he saying this with such a straight face? You're looking anywhere in the classroom but Toji, hoping he might just drop the subject. What's wrong with his last name anyways? What is he even insinuating? Does he really-

"I don't think I'll get tired of that face in ten years' time," he states.

Toji Zen'in is a blunt guy. When he said he hates his last name, he meant it. When he says he wants yours, well, no one's calling this guy a liar, are they?

It's been a while since you started sponsoring his races, and he's grown accustomed to your face in the stands. Always too far away, though. You always have on that dispassionate expression as a gambler, as though he's one of the rest.

For once, he cannot be just one of the rest.

“I'm... not sure what you mean." Your eyes move to the sunset outside, ignoring the way you bite your lip.

He studies your face for a minute before smirking again. "You're dabbling in illegal motorsports and can't look me in the eye."

You wince.

You murmur, "well then maybe you should say directly what you mean then."

You're so cute like this, pretending you don't like him too.

He walks around the table to face you properly. All of a sudden you can imagine your name on his back as he gets into the vehicle to race, as the stands to hear the cheers of the crowd. He'd wear it well. He coughs to get your attention.

“I’m saying.” He places his hands on his hips, shrugging as he goes. “Maybe let's be married. Just one day.”

Only, he doesn't intend for it to be one day. He wants you to remember your last name on him, keep the moment in your head; he'll wear it better than anyone else.

…

It is at that moment when the times come out and the trophies are awarded that he drapes his arm around your waist. The wink he throws your way, accomplice. Spectators ask what's his name.

And this is the moment you become more than his financier or the bets you place on him to win.

He speaks it into the microphone, proud for the stadium, the world. to hear.

And this is the moment you glance up at him with more than just a shallow smile, saying 'congrats'.

The word reverberates over the race track in a powerful wave.

He spoke into the microphone and the name is yours.

pt. 1

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen x reader #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #toji #toji fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk headcanons #toji dr #toji drabbles #toji headcanons #anime #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fanfic

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sinning-23 · 5 months

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Fishbowl (Buggy x Siren!Reader)

I hope you guysss like this one lol it’s been in the works for a minute and is one of the last in the siren/mermaid series! Also sorry for any spelling errors! This one with be a two part red and definitely some angst? Or at least I’ll try lol angst isn’t exactly my specialty!

Anyway, ENJOY!

Your nails claw at the glass, leaving scrapes and indents in their wake. After being captured by these pirates, you were transported to a large glass dome on wheels. You were panicking, the screeching from your echolocation making passerby’s of the crew cover their ears and double over.

Why you? You hadn't even been by the ship...they just pulled up to the shore of your home island firing cannons as your sisters swam for cover. You directed them, helping them escape only to be grabbed by the hair an dragged to the shore before you could make your escape.

Any mermaid knew what happened when they were captured.... fin scales used for jewelry, the rich meat of your tails used in rare dishes. The your teeth would be grinder down to pearl like where’s, drilled for necklaces. Nausea builds in the pit of your stomach. This was it.

He approached you, lifting you by your hair as your gills opens and close at the side of your neck, an unpleasant, wet sounding “gasp” filling the silence.

“What a treat. My audience is gonna love you.”

You swallow hard, native tongue sliding off with venom. He sneers at this.

“Too bad I can’t understand you sweets.” Buggy chuckles.

He’s got your arm in an uncomfortable grip as he drags you across the sand and flings you into another crewmate. I’m some kind of silent agreement the carry you across the sandy beach to the temporary tank. Your stomach turns, glittery tears falling down your cheeks.

Currently, you keep clawing, scratching, and screeching, and the glass begins to crack at this latest noise. You needed to get out. But before you can fix your voice to scream again, he enters.

"Please shut your mouth sweetheart. You're not going anywhere.” He explains with a roll of his eyes.

You speak again, and of course, he can understand but it’s something along the lines of,

“I’ll kill you when I get out of here.”

_____4 months______

You scratched a tally for each day you were there, the fishbowl now adorned with a stand and a pretty label in fancy blue ribbon and gold paint. He forced you to act in his shows, putting your gifted set of pipes “to good use”. Even though your siren song was powerful, its intended purpose seemed to fade away.

Every song you sang, the sorrow of being captured poured into your notes, making the audience ever more mournful than they already were. Your songs and performances almost always ended in tears now, Buggy’s crew opting to wear earplugs in fear they’d end their lives then and there if they heard one more melancholic tune.

Buggy, on the other hand, was beginning to grow ever impatient. The first two months of shows had gone just fine! His crew and audience were so enamored by your beauty and sound. Now it was just pitiful. But even though it pissed him off his own decisions led to failure, he couldn’t help but want your gorgeous set of pipes to himself.

Often, he’s caught himself in a daze, wondering what it feels like to have you sing him to sleep, your hands caressing his face with a smile and he pulls into a sense of security. Fat chance though…

Besides, you hadn’t even really been properly introduced since that day he surprise adopted you(kidnapped). Perhaps he should make conversation? He shakes his head at the thought, sitting in his designated chair, just watching.

Your scales flash and flicker sparkles of light in the empty tent. Maybe that’s why he captured you in the first place? You were beautiful. And his did he love seeing those pretty glittery tears roll down your cheeks when you’d first met.

A smile plays over his lips when you catch him staring, your eyes narrowing for a moment before you press against the glass, blowing bubbles at him from under the water. You say something he can’t quite hear.

In a curious haze, he stands, walking up to your fishbowl, looking at each tally you’d engraved into the glass.

“Why won’t you let me go?” You hum, the water making your voice somehow sound prettier that ever, the slight muffle making him hum.

“Because I like sad songs.” He jokes, circling your glass prison.

How typical of him, to joke in a serious situation like this, well serious to you at least. He really takes time to observe you, the way your scales seem to be some sort of opalescent chrome.

How your hair floats around your face, your gills opening and closing ever so slightly. He admires the smaller fins adorning your spine and forearms. He wonders if you’re insecure about them.

“Sing for me.”

It’s a demand, and before you can protest, he’s already back in his chair, watching, resting his head against his closed fist.

Even though you feel obligated, your voice and song feel softer now. Almost as if the small interaction with the captain had only slightly lifted your spirit.

And somehow your hymn didn’t seem so dismal.

#x reader #reader is a siren #i don't care he's hot #one piece live action #one piece #opla buggy #opla buggy x reader #buggy x reader #one piece buggy #one piece x reader #buggy the clown #op buggy #buggy the clown x reader #angst?

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cordeliawhohung · 1 month

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Soft Spot - Part 1

Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!Reader - part thirteen of "soft spot"

taglist

someone's opening old wounds

warnings: mentions of misogynistic views against pregnant women, crude language, pretty chill overall.

wc: 5.3

There was a song Simon’s mother used to sing to him as a kid when he couldn’t sleep.

The words had gotten lost in his mind over the years, but the tune still stuck with him like it was imbued in his DNA. The notes were certainly intended to be sung by someone with a wider range than him, but the deep baritone of his humming still carried it well enough. A special kind of comforting somberness permeated the tune in a way he wasn’t sure he would ever be able to convey to anyone. Not properly, anyway. It was the bittersweet nostalgia of his childhood, full of an inexplicable pain and grief, yet still brimming with longing.

However, like most days, Simon didn’t have the necessary time to dwell on the past, no matter how much that tune haunted him. If he got distracted and overcooked the eggs again, he knew he’d be paying for it later at work when you’d eventually bombard him with text after text requesting that he bring you something actually palatable. Really, he didn’t mind doting on you, even if he had to secretly do it at work, and he knew Johnny didn’t mind being his errand boy. But being away from you, even for a short period of time, made his skin crawl, like he was only ever at ease when you were within sight.

A part of him had always been that way; attached to you in some anxious and unhealthy way. It just grew more as your due date grew closer.

“You’re humming again.”

Simon brought his attention away from cooking in order to glance over his shoulder at you. Countless months had passed since the day you found out you were pregnant, since the day you both got a first look at the life that grew inside of you. That little blip on the screen was completely unrecognizable compared to the near full grown baby boy that had your stomach swelling like a water balloon. He would come any day by that point, which only concerned Simon further that you still chose to go to work despite it. Though, he knew it was pointless to try and convince you otherwise.

“You’re awake,” Simon countered, refusing to acknowledge his less than melodic humming.

“Hard not to be when your son is playing football with my bladder,” you chuckled.

With a hand on your stomach, you slowly crept into the living room where you plopped on the couch. Any sort of movement completely exhausted you those days. Standing, sitting, walking; it had all become a chore after your front had suddenly become so much heavier than the rest of your body. The prospect of birthing your son was nice when you thought about not having to carry around that extra weight anymore, yet it was terrifying when you fully remembered you would actually have to have him.

“We’ll sign him up for the little tykes when he’s old enough,” Simon humored as he turned the stove off.

“Good,” you hummed, “he’s gotta burn off all this energy somehow.”

With a plate in each hand, Simon sauntered off to the living room where he handed you your breakfast before sitting down next to you. Forks scraped against china as you both devoured your meals in the quiet stillness of the morning. The eggs went down easy, perfectly cooked just how you liked them, but once you got to the sausage and bacon, you took one sniff and nearly spewed.

“Christ,” you muttered as you scraped them onto Simon’s plate.

“Still?” he questioned.

“I guess,” you replied sourly.

In exchange, Simon gave you half of his remaining eggs, and only chuckled a little when you ate those like you were starved. Even though the room in your stomach grew smaller, your appetite only increased. Though you hoped otherwise, you knew it was just an omen for what your son would be like when he was older. If he would turn out anything like his dad, your fridge and pantry would be empty within days of going to the market.

“You don’t have to keep comin’ into work,” Simon suddenly piped up.

Smirking, you glanced at your husband before continuing to peck away at your breakfast. “Are you saying that because you think it’ll be good for me to get some bed rest, or because you’re tired of the way Sallow and the others keep looking at me in the halls?”

“Both,” he deadpanned.

“Ah.” A breathy sigh escaped you as you placed your empty plate on your lap and leaned back against the couch. If you stayed like that much longer, you were certain you’d melt into the cushions. “I’ve only got one more day. Just a few more things to sort out, and then I won’t have to see Sallow, or any of the others, for a long time. I think I can manage.”

“Or they can get fucked and handle it without you,” he shrugged.

“There’s that, too,” you chuckled.

Once Simon finished his plate, he slipped yours out of your lap before quickly slinking back into the kitchen to wash them. With an overdramatic grunt, you pushed yourself up from the couch. Everything spun for a short moment before you steadied yourself and wandered into the kitchen behind Simon. Had your stomach not been as large and stretched as it was, you would have snuck up behind him to embrace him from his back. Instead, you opted to lean against the counter next to him.

“It’s okay to be nervous,” you assured him.

“Not nervous. Just preparing,” he excused.

“Nervously preparing?” you teased.

He gave you a look that forced you to pause, and your expression softened as he turned the water off. A gentle hand reached for his arm where you gave him a good squeeze to catch his attention once more. Brown eyes locked onto yours as his hands absentmindedly wandered to your stomach. Your son was always restless in the mornings, and the slight smile that pulled at the corner of Simon’s lips at his kicks was unmistakable.

“We’ve done all we can for now,” you said as you rested your hands over his. “We’ve got the nursery set up, and we’ve got him clothes, diapers, bottles… All there’s left to do is wait. Besides, I don’t think either of us will ever fully be ready for something like this.”

“I know,” he replied softly. “Just worried ‘bout you. You’re the one who has to do the hard work.”

Chuckling, you gave his hands a small squeeze. “I’ll be alright. Promise.”

There wasn’t much time left that morning to dwell on the intimidating prospect of the near future, no matter how much you wished you could have stood in that kitchen forever. Instead, you had to shove your growing body into the uncomfortable maternity wear that your stomach seemed to grow out of weekly. A part of you was excited to give birth just so your clothes wouldn’t feel constricting any longer, yet of course there was the obvious obstacle of actually having your son. That realization hit you about twenty times a day, if not more.

Like you had told Simon earlier, there was no use in stressing over what would come anyway, and eventually you were too busy to even think about it at all. Despite your best efforts throughout the week, there were countless stacks of paperwork for you to sort through and file, and you were almost certain someone did this to you on purpose. Someone out there was certainly attempting to keep you chained there longer than you wanted to be, and you were half tempted to take Simon’s advice of fuck it and let them deal with it.

When noon rolled around and your stomach started growling, you were approached by your guardian angel. Or, at least that’s what you started calling Johnny those days. Apparently he had learned about your pregnancy pretty early on, not that you really minded. Johnny proved time and time again that he was worth keeping around, as you weren’t quick to forget the days during Simon’s time as prisoner. You weren’t sure you would have survived long enough if it wasn’t for him, and that was a debt you were certain you wouldn’t be able to repay anytime soon.

Once Johnny approached your desk, he looked down at you with a grin as he placed a takeout box in front of you, accompanied by the largest bottled water you had ever seen in your life. Its mouthwatering scent wafted over to you, and you wasted no time sliding the box closer to you with unapologetic hunger.

“Got sent on another errand?” you teased.

“Nah, I did this of my own volition this time,” Johnny smiled.

Flipping open the takeout box, you were met with one of the most greasy meals you had ever laid your eyes on. Certainly not at all the healthiest thing for you to eat, but those days you craved anything high in calories. You were certain you could have the meal finished in a few minutes tops, and if you were lucky you wouldn’t even get heartburn afterwards.

“Figured I’d get you a treat since it’s your last day and all,” Johnny admitted as you began to dig in.

“You make it sound like you’re never going to see me again,” you joked.

“Well, I’m sure you’ll have your hands plenty full,” he said as his eyes flickered to your stomach.

“Not busy enough to where the little guy won’t be able to see his favorite uncle.”

Johnny’s grin grew wider at your comment, if that was even possible. Though he had been rather quiet about his excitement for your child, it was still obvious. The way he never seemed afraid to dote on you, always helping you at work where Simon couldn’t afford to; really, he was the closest thing to family you were able to get, and there wasn’t a day that went by that you weren’t grateful for him.

“Favorite?” he prompted as if urging you to go on about how great he was.

“Well, of course. You’ll be his only uncle, so it’s not like there’s much competition,” you teased.

Johnny raised a hand up to his chest as if you had wounded him, which only got you to giggle. Shaking your head, you quickly shoved another bite of food into your mouth before chastising him.

“Get back to work, MacTavish.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Really, there wasn’t much work for him to do that day. There never was. He wasn’t an officer, yet he still was higher rank than a majority of the soldiers that spent their workday there. More often than not, he would give Troopers busy work, help with training sessions, and on the very rare occasion, give lectures.

He had a love-hate relationship with his rank. Most would call him an extrovert, which wasn’t exactly incorrect. He enjoyed his conversation and banter just as much as the next man did. It was easier to be a part of more laid back conversation with others when he wasn’t their direct superior. However, he was never allowed to deal out punishment how he saw fit, and that was more frustrating than anything else. People being able to get away with bad things, people being able to walk around freely without a care in the world.

And there were plenty of people who needed punishment.

“Soap?”

A majority of Johnny’s day had gone by in a blur, and though he probably could have snuck off base, he had decided to stick around to work on the Sudoku puzzle in that day's paper. That was, until Loughty decided to interrupt him. Though, he had to give credit where credit was due. He had been trying to get the man to call him by his nickname for ages rather than use that Sergeant MacTavish bullshit, and it seemed like all his prompting had finally gotten through that thick skull of his.

Looking up from the puzzle, Johnny was quick to take in the man’s appearance. Loughty always dressed as if he was going to be inspected at any moment, and truly was a man who followed every rule like he would be shot on sight if not. No amount of sharp looks could hide the fact that there was an aura of pure anxiety that always seemed to exude from the guy. Perhaps that was why he was the rule follower that he was.

“What is it?” he asked as he tapped his pencil against his thigh.

The lump in Loughty’s throat was visible, and though he did his best to swallow it, the pure worry was evident on his face. Still, he steadied his hands and straightened his back before speaking.

“I think Arlo might be getting himself into trouble,” he finally admitted.

Unphased, Johnny had to hold himself back from laughing at the man as he tossed the newspaper onto the side table next to him. “When is he not?”

“No, I mean real trouble,” Loughty insisted. “As in, I think this could get him discharged, or worse.”

Somehow that didn’t surprise Johnny either. Despite Loughty’s apparent anxiety and a need to follow the rules, he had certainly made a friend that was the complete opposite of him. Still, despite his personal reservations about the man, Sallow was an annoyingly good soldier. Wicked smart, he passed every test with flying colors. His only downfall would be his own hubris.

“What’s he done now?” Johnny asked.

“We were assigned to sort away some paperwork in the archives. I think Sergeant Callaghan was just trying to get us out of his hair,” Loughty said, attempting some tone of humor. Once he realized that his words fell flat, his face hardened to something more serious. “He started going through bins that he shouldn’t, even though Callaghan told us to keep our hands off of anything but the Urzikstan archives. I guess the point is, while I was actually doing my job, he started going through the bins one by one until he came across some files marked with the location Salthouse and I guess found something about Mrs. Riley and-”

“Where is he?” Johnny cut him off.

Salthouse. Fucking Salthouse. Of course. Johnny could still recall the events of that day all too well. Everything they went through to save you. How they had to rush you off for medical after you had been shot. Then there was the utter torture that was healing. What had really haunted him the most was the pictures of you; the ones Simon had shredded. He was glad that those pictures were gone, because if Sallow had gotten his hands on them, had even gotten a glimpse of them, he wasn’t sure he would be able to hold himself back.

“That’s the problem. I’m pretty sure he’s trying to talk to Mrs. Riley about it.”

Five o’clock was so close you could nearly taste it. Your entire day was spent working double time in order to get everything prepared for your leave, and the many times you had to use the restroom didn’t help expedite things either. The dying drone of your computer shutting down was like music to your ears, and as you stood from your desk you made sure to do a quick glance over it. Everything was tidy, neat and hidden away. All that was left to do was go home.

Except it was never that easy, and really, you should have known better. That giddy smile on your face quickly vanished the moment your eyes landed on Arlo Sallow. The expression on his face was the same as it had been for the last few months as your pregnancy grew more noticeable. Some poorly hidden disdain, yet a sick humor, like he was in on a joke that you weren’t.

Over your pregnancy, you had learned something terribly heart wrenching and frustrating about being a woman; you were less than human, and especially while pregnant. Your body had changed and spent so much energy to grow your son, and yet still you were seen as nothing but a trope. An annoyance. People looked at you as if you were a freak of nature. And of course you could not talk about how excited you were to have your son lest someone complain about how they could never have kids, but if you didn’t seem enthusiastic enough then you were a bad mother before your child was even born. The double standard of it all had a dull rage bubble in the back of your skull, and it was only worse when Arlo fucking Sallow of all people had the audacity to stare at you like that, too.

“Mrs. Riley,” he greeted you with a suave he didn’t deserve to hold.

“Sallow,” you replied, your voice less than enthusiastic. “If you have any more paperwork, I suggest handing it off to someone else. Unless you don’t want it to get filed for another year or so.”

“Oh, I’m well aware of your maternity leave starting today, don’t worry,” he dismissed. “I just figured I’d stop by with the hopes you could answer a question for me.”

It took everything in you to hold back the urge to roll your eyes. There was always something so infuriatingly proper about Sallow. How he would speak so kindly and yet his words were laced with such malice you nearly choked on them.

“Shoot,” you said, already bored with whatever game he tried to play.

“I was wondering if you could tell me a little about Salthouse?”

Everything around you melted away at his words, asked so nonchalantly yet with insidious intent at the same time. Your skin ran cold, and you could feel your blood pressure skyrocket as you assessed him, trying to figure out how he could have found out about something like that. It had been ages since you had last even thought of Salthouse and everything that happened there. Why was Sallow of all people trying to dig that up?

“What the hell are you getting at?” you questioned, your voice low but sharp. You were still in the office with plenty of prying eyes. You couldn’t afford to get emotional.

“Well you see. MacTavish was going on a while ago about how you used to be some sort of intelligence agent once upon a time. Got yourself captured by Mark Sizov after helping to rescue Ghost, or whatever. But, you see, I came across some files in the archives that said differently,” he explained coolly. He quickly glanced over his shoulder as if to assess the room behind him before turning back to face you once more. “Apparently, you weren’t ever an intelligence agent, or anything of the sort. Just a regular civilian. I’m just curious as to why the Sergeant would lie about something like that.”

Sallow’s admittance of hearing Johnny’s fabricated story didn’t come as a surprise to you. The man made sure to tell you as soon as he was able to, and explained he did it in order to throw him off of your and Simon’s tail. What did concern you though, was how he managed to get that new information.

“If you’re so curious, you should probably bring it up with your CO. I don’t think I’m exactly at liberty to share classified information,” you said in an attempt to dissuade him from pushing any further.

“I figured I’d give you the chance to answer me first, actually,” he replied. “The reports I read through mentioned some… interesting photos that didn’t seem to be present with the rest of the files. Seems like someone had tampered with evidence, which would certainly get them court martialed. Or worse.”

Oh. So that’s what this was. A threat. Or more accurately, an ultimatum. You weren’t quite sure who exactly got rid of those photos of you, but if you had to guess it was almost certainly Simon, and by the look in Sallow’s eyes, he probably deduced the same thing. What he was really trying to tell you was that you would either re-live everything that happened to you in Salthouse for whatever demented joy he would get out of it, or he would formally report Simon for tampering with classified evidence.

“Would you not also get in trouble for sleuthing through files you shouldn’t have?” you countered.

“I think we can both agree that one of these transgressions is certainly worse than the other,” Sallow shrugged.

You hummed as if you actually considered his words, when really you wanted to rip him a new one. There was something so intrusive about everything he had said, and you were nearly proud of yourself for holding everything together. All it was, was another game. You were so sick and tired of playing games.

God, he really was just like Bukin.

“What do you get out of this? Truly? Does it bring you some sort of sick joy to toy with people the way you do? Because I’ll be the first to say I think everyone’s getting a little tired of your pompous attitude,” you said, teeth grinding.

“I don’t see it as toying as much as… putting people in their place,” he explained.

“Oh?” you prompted.

“It’s a good reminder that people shouldn’t get too comfortable. You obviously got too comfortable with a certain member of Task Force 141. Had you just realized you should have stayed the stupid civilian rather than some soldier’s bitch, you probably never would have found yourself in Salthouse in the first place, right? At least, that’s what it sounds like. And Ghost’s authority is a farce at best. He struts around the place like he owns everything, and everyone just gives into his bullshit as if they’re too scared to challenge him. If only they knew how he failed.”

Your teeth gritted so hard you swore one was about to shatter, yet you attempted to calm yourself by glancing away from him and gathering your thoughts. You were so fucking tired of games. Of people trying to force you to be a player when all you wanted was to be left alone.

“So you’re… running around like an angry child because you have a problem with authority?” you concluded. “Listen, Sallow, I don’t like you, and never did, but believe me when I say I’m doing you a favor right now. Drop this. Whatever crusade you’re trying to go on? You’re not ranked nearly high enough to get off scot free. I don’t think you want to see just how far Ghost’s authority stretches.”

A heavy smirk crossed Sallow’s face as he leaned forward. You didn’t realize how close the two of you had gotten to one another during your argument until you smelled his breath. It was annoyingly minty, like he kept a pack of gum hidden somewhere in his uniform.

“You don’t scare me,” he claimed.

Tilting your head to the side, you slowly blinked at him. “That’s fine. The last man who wasn’t afraid of me is dead in an orchard. Bravery doesn’t save you from consequences.”

“Sallow!”

Johnny’s voice boomed like dynamite throughout the open office, and everyone’s head perked up in a single, strong wave. You had never seen him look so angry before with eyes brimming with fire and a glare so sharp you were surprised Sallow wasn’t keeled over dead on the ground. Not even in Salthouse did he harbor such fury, as most of his expression had been saturated with concern. But not that time. That time the only expression you could read off of him was the insatiable urge to throttle Arlo Sallow.

The look of confusion that the other office workers wore quickly grew into concern the moment Johnny and Sallow started to get into it. Though you could have stayed and watched the show, an odd wave of exhaustion clung to your body. Your lovely conversation with Sallow had taken more out of you mentally and emotionally than you cared to admit, and your thoughts began to wander to slinking off back home where you could rot away in bed for the rest of the night.

While the men were distracted with their arguing — which couldn’t seem to quite reach your ears — you slipped out of the office before exiting the building. The promise of rain loomed over your head as you began your trip home. Whatever old wounds Sallow attempted to open, the memories he tried to pry from the shadowy depths of your brain, you refused to let them take you again.

Grounding yourself was easier than ever those days. Perhaps you had the months — no, years — of intensive therapy to thank for that. Or maybe it was just the bed. A mixture of fresh linen and the smell of Simon imbued in the bedsheets calmed your mind as you curled on your side and breathed the scent in. Your son began to stir with restless feet against nearly every major organ inside of your body, and even in the emptiness of the apartment you couldn’t help but laugh. Not even born yet and he was already so much like Simon; such a restless fighter.

Simon arrived home earlier than he normally did. It didn’t take him very long to find you either, as your resting form wasn’t exactly inconspicuous underneath the comforter. His body weighed down your side of the bed as he sat next to you where his hand instinctively made its way to your stomach. His hand always seemed to end up there eventually.

“You alright, sweetheart?” he asked, gently prompting you awake.

Blinking the sleep from your eyes, you sighed while you adjusted yourself in order to better look up at him. A smile flitted across your lips as you took his hand in yours where you reveled in the touch of his skin with a hum. His clothes were damp, and you could hear the faint sound of water tapping against the window.

“Right as rain,” you teased.

But Simon didn’t smile. His worry for you was nothing if not obvious, and his eyes assessed you as if he feared your body had sustained physical wounds with your argument with Sallow.

“Johnny told me about everything. Said you ran off before he was able to check on you,” he said.

“I didn’t run off,” you chuckled. “It was past five, and I wanted to go home. I certainly don’t get paid enough to listen to Sallow spew out that bullshit.”

Simon paused for a moment before tenderly asking, “What did he say to you?”

A laugh nearly escaped your throat when you thought back to everything that transpired between the two of you. Instead, you gently sat up in bed before adjusting your pillows so that you could lean against the headboard.

“He basically admitted to snooping through files he shouldn’t have. Found the archives about Salthouse, which I’d like to mention for the record, I didn’t know those existed until he brought it up. Either way, he basically made it seem like I was a meddling bitch for getting involved with you, and you’re just some power hungry officer and that both of us needed to be put in our place. He also insinuated that you had destroyed those pictures of me and that he’d try to get you court martialed for it.”

He paused. “I did destroy those pictures.”

“I figured as much,” you chuckled. “But really, I’m fine. It was more of a nuisance than anything else. When Johnny showed up I didn’t really care enough to stick around.”

Simon’s thumb brushed against the wave of your knuckles as a gentle rumble of thunder reverberated overhead. Being on the top floor of the apartment complex was nice because you didn’t have to worry about the noise anyone would make above you, but it always meant the wind and storms hit twice as hard than usual.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that. Cunt shouldn’t have had access to the archives in the first place,” he muttered.

“It’s fine. I won’t have to deal with him for a year or so anyway,” you said as you squeezed his hand.

“You won’t have to deal with him ever,” Simon corrected. “His verbal altercation with Johnny became physical. Swung at him in front of the entire front office. Cunt will probably be dishonorably discharged by the end of the week if he’s not locked up first.”

“Seriously?” you questioned. “Johnny’s not hurt, is he?”

“‘Course not.”

Still, there was something terribly satisfying about that news. As far as you could remember, that was the first time someone had wronged you and they had received justice without you or anyone else you cared about getting hurt in the process. Well, terribly hurt anyway, but you were sure Johnny didn’t mind taking a punch or two for you. The terrible nuisance that was Arlo Sallow would finally be snuffed out.

“Good,” you smiled.

“You sure you’re alright?” Simon pressed again.

Huffing, you playfully rolled your eyes. “Baby, I’m fine. Just tired. Worked my ass off filing the remainder of that bullshit paperwork.”

Your playful and lighthearted attitude seemed to finally convince him that you really were alright, and he stood from the bed with a sigh. As he stripped off his wet layers of clothing, he insisted that you lay back down for a nap before he slid into bed next to you, pulling your back close to his chest.

Another wave of thunder rattled the room as you settled into the mattress, and as usual, Simon’s hand rested on your stomach. Your child rested with you, but only for a short while before he was right back at it again using your bladder as a trampoline.

“Christ, kid, I just got comfortable,” you chuckled, though you made no attempt at getting out of bed.

“Think he can feel the thunder?” Simon wondered.

“Maybe. He’s probably trying to fight it off,” you joked.

A small chuckle left Simon, and you could feel his grin form against the back of your neck. “Atta boy.”

Soft pitter patters of rain drowned the silence of the room as the two of you laid there enjoying one another's presence. Even after everything that had happened that day, you felt remarkably fine. More than that, you felt great. You were free from work, at home with your husband, cuddling in bed without a care in the world. It was the domestic life you had always craved. The one your mother had always wished for you.

“I’m taking my paternal leave early,” Simon suddenly admitted.

You made a poor attempt at trying to look at Simon from over your shoulder, only to fail terribly and plop your head back on your pillow. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Best if I don’t stick around while Sallow gets investigated. Don’t really wanna leave you alone, either,” he explained.

You would have been fine alone for another few weeks until your due date, and though you could have laid there and explained that to Simon, you knew it was pointless. He had become your shadow, never wanting to leave you alone, always sewed to your side. It wasn’t like you could pretend to fully enjoy your time if he wasn’t there with you, anyways.

“You’re not worried about anyone putting any pieces together?” you asked.

He shrugged. “Don’t care about what they think. Just care about you.”

Smirking, you snuggled back into his chest. “Are you gonna thank Sallow for giving you a good excuse to stay home?”

Simon chuckled sourly behind you, his breath hot on your neck. His laugh was infectious, and you crooned as he squeezed you tight.

“Never in a million fuckin’ years.”

#simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #soft spot #f!reader

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the-fandom-is-now-my-life · 15 days

Text

The creator had a child but refuses to speak:

Just between Us

There is more than 1 person with star pupils in teyvat, tsaritsa. You work with one of them too...

Read also: Kaeya gets blamed for dainsleif's baby

Wc: 700

Giving birth is supposed to be a happy experience, maybe that is why you chose mondstadt, whenever you thought about the land that welcomed you it brought a smile to your face.

It was supposed to go smoothly in the cathedral overseen by Barbara and nurses, then next morning the archons would visit one by one and share a meal while planning how the next years would go. But seemingly a remark like ‘such odd pupils, like stars in the sky’ and an unfortunate passerby had you running to avoid a murder.

“Tsaritsa, let Kaeya go” you yelp as you run out of the cathedral and push the multitude of people circling them.

There were some knights pushing people away, just in case a slash of her sword would reach far enough towards the crowd to hurt civilians, some others trying to defuse the situation that came seemingly out of the blue, and seeing how the long haired woman didn't stop her slashes some people started dragging children away, already expecting a public execution.

Hearing your voice, people started moving away. Hoping for you to be able to save their beloved captain.

Some eyes started to wander to the cathedral door when a short blonde girl came out but stood by the arch, a newborn in her arms. The older adults would fawn over him on any other occasion.

A beautiful baby. A beautiful wide eyed baby. A star eyed baby.

Running up to her you grab her right arm, high in the sky and ready to strike down with a slash. Pulling her arm away gives kaeya enough time from the blows and slashes to properly stand up and put some space between them.

Now the few people who noticed started whispering and gossiping as they just now found the reason for her wrath. For both of them to have blue eyes would be a coincidence, maybe even his dark blue hair too, but his star pupils? That is almost a confirmation for anyone with eyes.

“Stop this I said!” Your voice comes hoarse enough that you can feel the itch in your throat, not used to you raising your voice to any degree tsaritsa's hold on her sword faltered enough for you to push it away.

“How could I! When he dishonored you and never dared to step up until proof was on his face” now without her weapon the only sharp thing she could throw at him were hurtful words.

“FIRST OF ALL, I was not ‘dishonored’ whatever happened I fully intended for and second how would you feel now if I told you he is not the father”

Her eyes widen and face pales to match snow as she asks, dread pooling in her eyes “was it…”

“No. It wasn't Pierro either” she sighs slightly calmer after getting assurance, some part of her never stopped doubting that meeting where she left you two alone for some hours. “But then… who?”

“Who it was doesn't matter. This child is mine foremost. Will you go inside and meet us for breakfast or do you want to keep up this fruitless manhunt?” you hold her hand, trying to reach her.

“My apologies, your grace… ” she closes her eyes and turns to the cathedral, the rest of the archons looking at her.

Now that you are sure she would go there you turn to Kaeya, a long but superficial slash going across from his ribs to his shoulder plus some dark spots where she digged her heels that would surely bruise badly tomorrow.

“Didn't expect such a workout this early”

“I am so sorry, I wouldn't have thought she would go hunting people down so soon”

He laughs a bit but shakes his head “it isn't like you told her to do it” but after he finishes speaking he looks into your eyes “so… star eyes”

“Yes, if you want you could meet him later… when the tsaritsa leaves” you joke making him laugh and he leaves to change clothes, his shirt almost slit out of his body.

Before you turn back to the cathedral you catch a blond head peeking from behind one of the pillars, familiar blue eyes making you smile.

Tonight you would leave a window open so someone could meet their child.

"Did you get tired already or do you have to burn any more energy?"

"shut it, don't act like you didn't want to kill him at first"

"I was about to do the same but you were already grabbing your sword"

#genshin impact #gi #sagau #self aware genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin dainsleif #dainsleif x reader

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